#fire arrows are not to be trifled with

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 9: Derailed

Summary: The day is derailed even further, but that might be for the best.

Rating: 16+ for violence and gore. Kissing, making out.

Warnings: This chapter contains detailed descriptions of violence and gore, specifically arrow removal.

Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 8. Read from the beginning.

Morale plummets in the wake of Lae’Zel’s departure. The rest of the morning is spent in silence as everyone finishes preparing for the day ahead. Even Shadowheart’s smug superiority at finally ousting Lae’Zel fades to a grim determination. Already, the hole Lae’Zel has left feels palpable.

Astarion is sure Lae’Zel will be fine out there. She is a warrior through and through. But an additional prickle of fear ripples through him at the idea that the others may leave him too. He cannot do this alone, he needs every ally he can get. 

He knew this was coming, he reminds himself. He knew Lae’Zel was always going to leave. It’s just happening earlier than expected. This is a good thing, actually. He has less competition now. And less opposition to the illithid powers. He cannot compromise that.

He had never really minded Lae’Zel’s condescension or rudeness, even when it was directed at him. Cazador had been much crueler. At least Lae'Zel was almost funny. And her passion for bloodshed had always been inspiring. He supposed he was just disappointed to see a strong ally leave over such a trifle.

Perhaps there was a tinge of worry for her as well. 

At least he knows that Tav won’t leave. Certainly not with the promise of tonight hanging between them like luscious, unpicked fruit.

Tav, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion all trudge through the forest in silence, doggedly following the billowing smoke plume that Lae’Zel had spotted earlier. Along the way Tav and Shadowheart stop to forage, gathering berries, mushrooms, and eggs from bird nests. They even find a big, juicy honeycomb. All treats Astarion can’t truly enjoy.

“Are you sure about the tadpoles, Fangs?” Karlach asks him when they are finally alone. Tav and Shadowheart are far ahead at this point, digging up what appears to be a buried chest.

“Of course I am,” Astarion insists. The tadpole set him free. He has to follow this thread. 

“Even if it means you’ll become a Mindflayer?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“But what if it does?”

He briefly imagines the pain and horror of his bones turning into jelly, his handsome face sprouting tentacles, his personality and memories siphoned away to feed the gluttonous parasite. It’s too grotesque, too unimaginable to feel like a real possibility. 

But he can imagine Cazador placing his favorite knife against the coals of a blazing fire, the searing heat guaranteeing that its blade will be horrifically painful. He can imagine Godey behind him with the pliers, laughing a deep, clacking chuckle.  

“As I have said repeatedly, that is not going to happen.”

Karlach just sighs. “Well. If you’re sure, then.”

Silence resumes. The smoke cloud looms ever larger above them. Astarion thinks he hears a Worg howl.

“I’m just asking you to be careful. Your actions affect the rest of us too. If you begin to transform-"

“I won’t transform!” he yells at her. Up ahead, Tav and Shadowheart try to look busy. “I won’t let it get that far. The idea is to control the tadpole, not become it.”

“But we don’t know if that’s even possible,” she responds. 

“But what if it is? We have to inv-” There’s something up ahead. 

Tav’s message throbs through all their minds, rife with concern. Immediately everyone reaches for their weapons.

“Finally, some action,” Karlach growls, grabbing her sword.

“Finally, I agree with you,” Astarion replies, unsheathing his daggers. 

Let’s carefully approach-

Karlach charges ahead, bursting through the underbrush. She streaks ahead of them through the forest, a comet made flesh. They all race to catch up to her, nimbly dodging rocks, branches, roots, and all manner of forest debris as they hurtle towards danger. Soon they begin to hear the clangs of swords, the twangs of bowstrings, and they feel the unmistakable thrum of the Weave. There’s fighting up ahead, in the town square of the abandoned village.

What remains of a band of goblin marauders have cornered something against a wall. Whatever it is has put up quite a fight: goblin carcasses litter the ground in pools of dark, sticky blood. Astarion reflexively licks his lips. 

“Kill it!” a goblin booyahg cackles as she conjures a poisonous green cloud. She unleashes the magic on her target, which doubles over in a fit of hacking coughs. “Skva!” Lae’Zel barks between wheezes. A worg leaps at her, sinking its jaws into the hard muscle of her thigh. Lae’Zel snarls in pain, rapping its head with the pommel of her sword. The beast releases her, dazed, its jowls dripping blood. As Lae’Zel shifts into a new stance to compensate for her injured leg an arrow strikes her thigh, missing her plate by centimeters and embedding itself into her other leg. She screams in Githyanki, but somehow finds the force to keep standing. Multiple arrows have pierced her, jutting out of her flesh like pins in a horrifying pincushion. Blood drips from a cut on her brow, where a rock had struck her face, pooling in her eyes. 

“Oi! Meatheads!” Tav roars, her mockery grabbing their attention.  “The frog is ours! Back off, or you’ll be joining it!” one of the goblins yells. Lae’Zel uses the distraction to strike, knocking the nearest goblin prone. 

All hells break loose. Karlach jumps into the fray, cleaving the worg in half with her sword. Astarion shimmies up a decaying roof, crouching low as he surveys the fight. He silently looses arrow after arrow, picking off goblins from his vantage point. There’s another booyahg perched on a nearby gable and Astarion quickly dispatches him with a clean shot to the neck, sending him plummeting to the stones below with a sickening thud. A goblin slashes at Lae’Zel but Tav grasps her with Hold Person, freezing her in place. Lae’Zel seizes the moment, chopping off her head with a clean sweep of her blade. The goblin band is no match for all of them, together. 

“Lae’Zel! Are you alright?” Tav calls out to her as the last goblin falls.

Lae’Zel does not answer. She briefly wobbles for a moment, blinking blood out of her golden eyes.  Then she swoons, hard. Karlach dives to catch her but Lae’Zel’s head strikes the cobblestones, knocking her out cold. Shadowheart rushes forward, her blue healing magic flickering at her fingertips. They all stand back as Shadowheart works to save Lae’Zel, watching as she feverishly casts her magic. They may hate each other, but that doesn’t mean that Shadowheart would let Lae’Zel die like this. 

“Lae’Zel better live through this,” Karlach murmurs. She has given Shadowheart the most space, ever conscious of her burning engine.

“She’ll be fine, darling. She’s too tough to let a couple of goblins get to her,” Astarion hand-waves. She won’t die. She can’t die.

“Tav!” Shadowheart calls frantically over her shoulder. Tav rushes over, her hands starting to glow with her own lesser healing magic. The two begin working in tandem: Tav props Lae’Zel’s head up so Shadowheart can carefully pour a healing potion down her throat. Lae’Zel groans, her eyes flickering open in a haze of pain. 

“Astarion!” Tav cries. Astarion dashes over, crouching at her side. “You have the best dexterity. We need you to help excise these arrows,” she explains. “I’ll walk you through it. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine,” Shadowheart assures him. “I can push this one through. But these two are pretty shallow, you will need to rip them out of her. I can’t finish healing her until they’ve been removed,” Shadowheart instructs. 

“That will make it worse!” Astarion frets.

“Not with goblin arrows. They’re just simple metal spikes, they don’t have the fancy head. You’ll still need to be quick though, so they can heal her before she bleeds out,” Karlach explains. “Please Astarion, just do it,” Tav pleads.

Tav gently supports the arrow shaft, holding it still. The shaft wiggles, which is a good sign. It hasn’t struck bone. He surveys Lae’Zel’s thigh, making note of the two arrows he will need to remove in rapid succession. Delicately but firmly, he grasps the shaft near the root. Lae’Zel swears thickly but Tav quietly soothes her, casting Calm Emotions. Blood bubbles forth from her flesh as he quickly rips the arrow out. The urge to bite almost overwhelms him, but Tav swoops in with a rag to staunch the bleeding before he can lose himself. Lae’Zel writhes in pain but Shadowheart does her best to hold her down. Karlach hovers over them, burning too fiercely to safely help.

They repeat the grisly process, removing all the arrows from Lae’Zel’s body. Lae’Zel screams, she swears, she twists in pain, but she does not complain. The last one is too deep, so Shadowheart snaps the shaft and swiftly pushes the arrow through her thigh, forcing it out the other side. When the horrible work is done, Karlach passes Shadowheart a Greater Healing potion, which Lae’Zel gulps down. Shadowheart stands up, wiping the sweat from her brow. Tav stays crouched, casting Prestidigitation to clean the blood and viscera from Lae’Zel’s prone form. Lae’Zel tries to stand but Karlach moves over her. “Hold it, soldier. Your wounds are closed but you are not fit to move,” she says. Lae’Zel chks.  “She’ll live, but she needs to rest.” Shadowheart declares. “And so do I. I’m almost completely out of magic now.”  Tav swears under her breath.

“I could still accompany you to the goblin camp, but I’ll only have my cantrips,” Shadowheart adds. Tav stands slowly so as to not disturb Lae’Zel, then kicks angrily at a nearby tuft of grass. “As much as I’d like to kick some goblin butt, I’m not going into enemy territory without another healer,” Karlach insists.

“Nor I,” Tav agrees. “Not if there’s as many goblins as I suspect.” They all glance up at the billowing smoke cloud. Lae’Zel was right, the camp is just beyond the ridge.

“Well, at least this was fun,” Astarion says. Karlach wraps Lae’Zel in a blanket from her pack, then hoists her up into her arms, gently cradling her. 

“Let’s get this one back to camp, yeah?” Karlach suggests. 

“Put me down this instant,” Lae’Zel demands. She squirms indignantly. “I am Lae’Zel of K’liir, not some hatchling.”

“And right now you are recovering from some serious injuries,” Tav says. “We’re going back to camp so we can all re-coup.”

“You tell me if it gets too hot, ok?” Karlach says. Lae’Zel grunts. 

“Were you anyone else I would strike you down for such disrespect,” she grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, we can fight about it after you rest,” Karlach teases.

“As fierce as you are, darling, you shouldn’t run off like that. We were quite worried about you,” Astarion gently scolds her. Lae'Zel glowers at him but she does not rebuff his chastisement. Perhaps they really are growing on her after all.

As they walk, Lae'Zel eventually settles into Karlach's strong arms. If Astarion didn't know better, she almost seems content there.

Tav falls into step beside him. “Good job today,” she says. She gives his arm a quick, affectionate squeeze. The contact sends a jolt of something through him. He isn’t sure if it’s pleasant or not, but he does know that he loves the compliment.

“Why thank you, darling. What can I say, I’m quite skilled with my hands.”

Tav giggles at him. He leans in close to her, so the others won’t hear. “You’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” he promises. Tav playfully pushes him away, pantomiming annoyance, but once she’s done she shoots him a heated look that belies her true feelings. Astarion smirks back at her.

Tonight is the night.

~

There’s a dog waiting for them when they return. Apparently Wyll and Gale had found it wandering around the woods. It had not wanted to leave the body of its dead master, but Wyll had given it his scent anyway. According to the collar, the dog’s name was “Scratch.” Karlach and Shadowheart are delighted, but Astarion isn’t impressed. But he supposes he can live with the dog, so long as it doesn’t slobber all over his pillow.

Somehow, Wyll and Gale had also found the time to trek back to the Grove, trade for more potions and alchemy supplies, forage for food, and discover an owlbear cave. They had certainly been busy bees while they were gone. 

They all help pitch Lae’Zel’s tent, then Karlach lays Lae’Zel down gently in her bedroll, where she quickly falls asleep. They all mostly agree: if Lae’Zel wants to rejoin their group then she is welcome to stay. Shadowheart loudly objects, but she is overruled by Tav, Wyll, and Karlach. Everyone is welcome here so long as they are willing to cooperate with the group. 

Astarion knew he had bet correctly on Tav. 

They all take turns checking on Lae’Zel, even Astarion. When at last she stirs, Gale hands her a bowl of stew and Tav flits into her tent to talk. They all quietly gather nearby to eavesdrop, Gale included this time. 

Lae’Zel doesn’t apologize. She is still adamantly against using the tadpole, but she does agree to stay. Astarion intuitively understands that this is Githyanki for “thank you for saving my life.” Tav concedes that they are taking an enormous risk and agrees that if they begin to transform, Lae’Zel should kill them. Lae’Zel swears that she will see it so. Astarion frowns to himself. Even though he is confident that they can eventually control the tadpole, he still doesn’t appreciate that Tav has essentially forfeited their lives. But this seems to be an acceptable enough compromise for now.

Tav gives them all a knowing look as she exits Lae’Zel’s tent. No one tries to hide the fact that they were listening in. 

The sun is already beginning to set, so Astarion settles in and begins his grooming regimen. Tav will be expecting him soon. 

“Astarion! Can I trouble you for some help chopping these vegetables?” Gale calls to him from the makeshift kitchen he has staged by the fire. 

“I’m afraid I’m a bit busy, my dear,” he calls over. Astarion doesn’t have nail scissors or clippers, but he’s skilled enough with a knife to make do.

“Very well, then I shall come to you,” Gale announces, laying down his own knife and making his way over. As Gale approaches, Astarion wonders what he has done to deserve this. 

“I’d like to speak to you in private, if I may. About this morning,” Gale says. Astarion raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know we had more to say to each other,” Astarion says icily. “You already made your point quite clearly.”

“I actually don’t think I have,” Gale says. Oh good, more lecturing. 

“I spoke in anger and in haste this morning, and I wanted to offer my apologies. Although we have only known each other briefly, I meant what I said. I would stand at your side again, tadpole or no.”

“What?” Astarion says flatly. 

“I spoke in anger and in haste-"

“I heard you!” Astarion snaps.

“It occurred to me that you and I are not so different, in our ways,” Gale continues. “To be at the beck and call of a supernatural hunger has been challenging, even for a wizard of my acclaim.”

“That has certainly been true in my own experience,” Astarion offers slowly. 

"I know we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances and we have all been relatively slow to confide in one another. But now that we have a tad more trust and understanding, I hope that we can move forward towards curing our mutual infection,” Gale says.

“Do we have more trust in each other?” Astarion cuts in, ignoring Gale's mention of the parasite. “Because right now it seems as though the one waxing poetic about trust is keeping a pretty important secret from all of us.”

Gale sighs. “You are right, Astarion. I am asking a lot of all of you. But I assure you, now is not the right time. I promise that when the time is right, I will tell you everything,” Gale pledges.

Astarion looks him up and down, warily. “I suppose I understand better than most the need to keep a secret until the right time,” Astarion concedes.

“You’ve got to get the timing just right, I’m afraid.” Gale sighs again. “And as powerful as I am, I can't say I've been at my level best this past week. This whole adventure has been rather exhausting, if I’m being honest.”

“I quite agree,” Astarion replies.

“If also a bit invigorating,” Gale continues, conspiratorially. Astarion’s lips twitch.

“I quite agree,” Astarion smirks. 

“So! Shall we put this spat behind us?” Gale offers his hand for a gentlemanly shake.

Astarion eyes Gale’s outstretched hand. He briefly considers asking the wizard about his intentions with Tav. But his brief glimpse inside Gale’s tent lends credence to Astarion’s hunch that nothing of significance is going on between them. Wyll and Shadowheart are wrong.

Besides, they have almost no chemistry. If Tav would have rather bunked in Gale’s tent, she would be in Gale’s tent. Instead she’s promised herself to him.

“I suppose I can forgive you,” Astarion says, clasping Gale’s hand in his and giving it a firm shake. “Your words are…appreciated.”

“And is there anything that you would like to say to me?” Gale says hopefully. Astarion pauses. The cheek of this wizard.

“I suppose I can also make an effort to be more forthcoming in the future. Within reason. I do have an image to maintain, after all.”

“I can content myself with ‘an effort’ so long as it is a genuine one,” Gale chides him. “Although I hope I prove a worthy confidant,” he adds, smiling.

As Gale retreats towards Shadowheart’s tent, ostensibly on his apology tour, Astarion admits that Gale can be charming, on occasion. 

It occurs to Astarion that he hasn’t received a genuine apology like that in decades. 

~

Freshly bathed, trimmed, and coiffed, Astarion swaggers over to Tav’s tent, tapping on the flap by way of greeting. Tav beckons him in.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, my darling,” he asks, sliding inside. Although, he wouldn’t have cared even if he was disturbing her.

“Not at all,” she reassures him. Tav sits on a stool, applying mascara to her eyelashes with the help of a hand mirror.

“We finally have a quiet evening,” he observes lightly, coming around beside her. 

“As quiet as it can be around here, anyway,” she retorts. She screws the tube of mascara shut, slipping it into a little pouch. She then produces a small tin of salve, which she opens with a small click.

“A perfect night for two souls who would like to take some time to themselves,” he hints flirtatiously. “If you catch my meaning.”

“Hm, I don’t think I do,” Tav replies, swiping a fat dollop over her lips.  

“No?” Astarion questions, his tone playfully patronizing. 

“No,” she teases, rubbing the balm between her lips. “You’ll have to be more explicit,” she says, the challenge clear in her voice. Her lips look so pretty and glossy, a tempting target.

“Well then, since you apparently need it spelled out for you-“ Astarion leans down and kisses her, ruining the immaculate shine of her lips with a single press of his own. He lingers against her, enjoying the cloying scent of lavender and honey, the soft pillow of her lips against his own. It must be a beeswax of some kind. Tav opens her mouth to deepen the kiss, but Astarion pulls away.

“Not here,” he says, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s a clearing just over the hill. Once the others have gone to sleep, come find me there. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I will,” she promises. Already she’s rosy-cheeked and breathless. 

He’s going to positively wreck her. ~ Chapter 10: Want❤️‍🔥

[xxlordalexanderxx]

《Reign of Fire》 « Part One »

He stayed with H all night and made sure they would be alright and as comfortable as possible, all the while his mind simply lashed out. He entertained so many vile thoughts as to what he would do to the hobgoblin clan that lived deep down in the rocky clearing beyond the xandorian forests. It did not matter why H was out and about alone because the entirety of Xandora should know that they were his, and not to be trifled with, let alone hunting in his territory.

Winter had made its way in the kingdom, food was growing thin, this he understood. But rules were rules, these were his lands, and this was his mate, and he would take vengeance for what they did to them. Clearly these creatures warped the king’s law and twisted it. He wasn’t sure if this was an act of defiance, but he was tired.

And he was going to make a point today.

Rather than wait for nightfall, Alexander was up before the sun was, its blood red light just beginning to peak over the tree line. It was deathly cold, but he was so enraged that his body was over-clocking with heat that wafted off his person like steam. It kept him warm, and the adrenaline rush he was feeling made him care not for the chill in the air. It did not bother him at all. The thin layer of frost he would tread on simply melted and began to boil.

Alexander stood amongst a tall cliff, his figure imposing and eerie as he watched the Hobgoblin camp from above, its smoke rising high into the air. His guard had found it and one stood next to him pointing out all the entrances and explaining the entire structure of the camp. The king nodded silently, steam billowing from his breath as he signaled for a small group of knights and bishops to guard all the entrances.

No one leaves. Not until he made an impression.

The images of H’s torn thigh kept flashing in his mind, all he could see was red. He was blinded by rage. Once his guard was in position, he was given the go ahead via hivemind.

Alexander unleashed and loud devastating roar, loud enough to be heard even beyond Xandora, before he leapt from the cliff. He fell till he nearly reached the ground, and shot back up into the air with two massive black wings sprouted from his back; completly replacing his cape.

It took him no time to reach the camp, where it seemed the inhabitants were already in a frenzy upon his arrival. Alexander never thought he’d have to go about things like this again, but he was beyond reason. The draconian launched a powerful and unrelenting torrent of flame towards the Hobgoblin outpost, his flames consuming dens and huts and any structures they had put together. He was not aiming for them, just what they’ve built.

One took to arms and shot at Alexander with a crossbow, the arrow sinking into his chest, the king seethed and dived bomb straight for the assailant. He landed right on top of them, crushing it them like an egg. Alexander ripped the arrow from his breast and began screaming again, his guard flooding the entire campsite.

“Round them up, seize them all. No one leaves.” He barked, taking out more structures with a devastating blast of fire yet again.

“I LET YOU INTO MY HOME, GIVE YOU LAND, LET YOU HUNT, AND THIS IS HOW I’M REPAID. YOU MAULING MY MATE?

NO HUMAN WHO SETS FOOT IN MY CASTLE IS TO BE HARMED, I’VE WENT OVER THIS WITH YOU ALL, WITH EVERYONE IN THIS BLOODY COUNTRY.”

***

When all was said and done, the space was devastated and dilapidated beyond repair, small fires still eating at whatever debris were left. Alexander had his guards surround the entire colony, swords, crossbows, and spears drawn.

Alexander, still red-eyed took out a fang he had recovered from H’s wound and held it up.

“Who does this belong to, give them to me. Now.”

[foggystorywriter]

The Wizard's Tower

The city of Arathia was in chaos. For weeks, strange things had been happening: crops had withered, animals had gone mad, and people had disappeared without a trace. The cause of the trouble was a powerful wizard named Zoltar, who had set up shop in a tower on the outskirts of the city.

The king had put out a call for adventurers to deal with the wizard, and a group had answered: Arin the dwarf, Malia the elf, and Kael the human.

The three companions made their way through the winding streets of Arathia, drawing strange looks from the locals as they passed. Finally, they arrived at the wizard's tower, a spire that rose high into the sky, surrounded by a moat of shimmering blue water.

Arin approached the drawbridge cautiously, his axe at the ready. As he stepped onto the bridge, the water of the moat surged up, forming into a massive wave that crashed down on him.

Malia and Kael rushed to help him, but before they could reach him, Arin had disappeared into the water.

Malia cursed and Kael drew his sword, preparing to charge across the bridge, but then a voice spoke in their minds. It was Zoltar.

"Welcome, adventurers. I see you've come to challenge me. But I warn you, I am not to be trifled with."

Malia drew her bow and fired an arrow at the tower, but it bounced harmlessly off the stone.

Kael charged across the bridge, his sword flashing in the sunlight. But as he reached the tower, he was struck by a bolt of lightning, knocking him to the ground.

Malia rushed to his side, but then Zoltar spoke again.

"Enough! I tire of this game. Come, enter my tower, and we will settle this face to face."

Malia and Kael exchanged glances, then cautiously made their way across the drawbridge.

Inside the tower, they climbed winding staircases and navigated traps, encountering Zoltar's minions at every turn. But finally, they reached the top, where Zoltar was waiting.

The wizard was an imposing figure, his robe flowing around him, his eyes glowing with power.

"So," he said. "You've come to challenge me. Very well. Let us see what you're made of."

And with a flick of his wrist, Zoltar unleashed a barrage of spells, lightning and fire filling the room.

Malia and Kael fought bravely, dodging the spells and striking back with their weapons. And then, just as they were about to deliver the final blow, Zoltar disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

The tower shook, and the companions realized that the wizard had set off a massive explosion, destroying his own tower and killing himself in the process.

As they made their way back to the city, the people of Arathia cheered and hailed them as heroes. The curse that had plagued the city was lifted, and the companions were hailed as saviors.

And though they knew that there would be other dangers in the future, they felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that they had saved a city and defeated a powerful wizard.

[linklewinklewoman]

Open AI wrote a scene where Linkle uses her Noble Phantasm

(Scene Setting: The Holy Grail War is in full swing, and Linkle, the brave and determined Archer-class Servant, finds herself facing off against a formidable opponent in a ruined city. The enemy Servant, a powerful Lancer, lunges forward with a deadly strike towards Linkle.)

Linkle: (Determined) "You won't lay a finger on my Master! It's time to call in some special reinforcements!"

(She raises her dual crossbows high into the air, and with a resolute shout, activates her Noble Phantasm.)

Linkle: "O Cucco, guardians of courage and clucks, From skies above, descend upon my foes! With magic and might, protect me from harm, In feathered fury, unleash your throes!

Cucco Stampede - Cluckin' Calamity Carnival!"

(A radiant burst of light surrounds Linkle, and from the skies above, a portal opens, releasing a swarm of magical cuccos. These cuccos are larger and more vibrant than their normal counterparts, shimmering with magical energy.)

Lancer: (Confused) "What is this madness? Chickens? Ha! Do you take me for a fool?"

(Linkle smiles confidently as the cuccos envelop her, forming a protective barrier.)

Linkle: "Don't underestimate them! These aren't your ordinary cuccos!"

(The Lancer scoffs and attempts to strike Linkle with their lance. However, as soon as the weapon nears her, the cuccos spring into action.)

Cuccos: (Angry squawks) "Cluck, cluck, cluck!"

(The cuccos swarm around the Lancer, pecking and flapping their wings with surprising force.)

Lancer: (Taken aback) "Argh! Get these foul creatures off me!"

(But the more the Lancer tries to fight back, the more cuccos emerge from the portal, surrounding the area in a whirlwind of feathers and squawking.)

Linkle: "Haha! Now you see the true power of my Cucco Carnival! They won't back down until you do!"

(The Lancer, now completely engulfed in a flurry of cuccos, struggles to maintain their balance, their attacks becoming more and more erratic.)

Lancer: (Frantic) "This is ridiculous! I can't even land a hit!"

(Despite their best efforts, the Lancer finds it impossible to focus on Linkle as the cuccos relentlessly defend her.)

Linkle: "You've underestimated the power of these adorable creatures! But they're not to be trifled with!"

(With a triumphant laugh, Linkle seizes the opportunity and fires a volley of arrows at the Lancer, each shot guided with uncanny precision thanks to the cuccos' protection.)

Lancer: (Defeated) "Enough! I yield!"

(The Lancer raises a white flag, signaling their surrender. The cuccos, upon sensing the end of the threat, return to their portal, disappearing as quickly as they arrived.)

Linkle: (With a grin) "A wise choice. Remember, never underestimate the cluck of courage!"

(The battle ends with Linkle emerging victorious, her Cucco Stampede - Cluckin' Calamity Carnival proving to be a humorous yet effective Noble Phantasm in protecting her and turning the tide of battle in her favor.)

[valkyrie-of-the-rising-sun]

My turn! How could Hauyne react to the reborn trio and how would Orion react to the rejuv trio!

The ask game in question

Hoo boy, this is gonna be a long post. More under the cut!

I’ll start with the reborn trio :D

If Hauyne were to meet Reborn!Leo, she isn’t going to think very highly of him (sorry Leo!). She’d be rather put off by his overall demeanour and would probably assume he’s one of those stereotypical bratty rich kids. If she’s feeling particularly sharp-tongued, she might refer to him as a fù èr dài in private... which is Mandarin for spoiled rich kids (often used in a derogatory manner, especially to mock their materialistic attitudes and lavish, overindulgent lifestyles).

Over time, I’d think she’ll warm up to him, especially after finding out that Leo is aware of his shortcomings and genuinely wants to better himself. That’s something Hauyne respects, and would most likely try to help him in his endeavours in whatever ways she could. I also think they would become unlikely friends, particularly for Future!Leo, though it’s going to take quite a while to get there considering how intimidated Leo is of her presence. (And who doesn’t like having a pseudo-younger sister play wingman? XD)

Next is Suraya... hm. I think Hauyne admires her, at least the way how she carries herself with utmost confidence and purpose. She probably won’t appreciate the myriad tests and trials Suraya will subject her to, especially after she discovers that it was meant to gauge her capabilities as an Aura Wielder. But overall, she might look up to her as a role model and perhaps even an older sister figure.

Blair... well. This is going to be a tough one. Like Orion, Hauyne can sense that xe has killed quite a number of people in cold blood, therefore she could deduce really quickly that xe is someone extremely dangerous and not to be trifled with upon their first meeting. As a result, she’ll keep her guard up around xem, closely watching xyr every move so that she could respond accordingly if xe tried anything (not that xe wants nor plans on harming her, but Hauyne doesn’t know that). I’m not sure how Blair would feel about this lol, since both siblings are like keeping their distance from xem out of uneasiness/wariness but also trying not to make it look too obvious.

She, like Blair, will be not be amused about the “long lost cousin” joke. At one point, Hauyne got really fed up with the jokes and threatens to set the next person who brings it up on fire. Though a part of her does wish that there’s a relative from her mother’s side of the family alive out there...

Okay, with the reborn trio done, let’s move on to the rejuv trio!

I think Orion would get along really well with Imani, considering their similar personalities. They’d indulge her in a battle if she asks, though she’s probably gonna get her shit wrecked (though if it were Reborn!Orion, she might be able to put up more of a fight before losing XD). I’m not sure if they’ll take Imani under their wing, but something tells me they definitely would lol. It’s an open secret in the Reborn League that their champion has a bad habit of “picking up strays”, the strays in question being their juniors.

For Flynn... I think they’ll be rather close with her, since Flynn’s shy and meek personality reminds them of their own sister when she was much younger. I have a feeling that Orion is going to act as something like a mentor of sorts for her, especially if its Future!Orion we’re talking about here. I’m not sure what Flynn would think of this lol, but I hope she’s receptive to this XD

As for Arrow, the two are definitely going to hit it off with how much they have in common! I have a feeling that Orion thinks Arrow is really cool and generally a nice friend to talk to, from geeking over their shared hobbies to sharing their insecurities/experiences as an older sibling. Though they’d be quite aghast to hear that Arrow feels right at home in the sweltering hot desert (the Tourmaline Desert was their least favourite place on Reborn for this reason). 

[libidomechanica]

Blow him not

A rispetto sequence

               I

Which the honeysuckle crowded round him with thirst for fire! For it will sourly leave them on the glen sae bushy, O, aboon they do

so that wanted. Does not the grove appear’d, and compromise, all. Blow him not. Trifling his loving hand or troubled might: for in his face.

               II

What we seldom hear it. Tone to hail her sensibility, a thing repels the ethereal station upon their Principles

of Leutha’s flower O Sorrow, wind of the day then press’d, his very good a King: the white lake-blossom fell in silver cymbals’ ring!

               III

Live with her desire no beauteous regions wild rapt in all his kin! Stiff in Opinions; make my Power employ, with song and tears:

all of you. That would love. And arbour, no darkness. Smears with portly paced along a scale of awful footsteps and live! The common wood.

               IV

Foresee, make suddenly transformed. Yes, moonlight Emperor! With wide- arched brows, within the dames heroic and chicken feathers, are in

slumber did the habits of thunder cloudy seas. Of Arbitrary black. Men and the brain begins his solemn as unpleasant fields!

               V

Each, which the Father comforts on the most true image. Whom within the altar stand, a shadowy Hours; while to his Overthrow. And

honeysuckles fully expected, there was not my own soul conspired, snail-paced lives, as well know than Hybla drops, that motto drew.

               VI

Besides a cold something New to wish they who wish the sable frock and for his story of Civil Wars. Sudden blow bundle of creame

vncrudded, her place is said, is Juster to thy though her. Were some small hands, your voice hiss. Fondly, and songs never chart, a key … Even then!

               VII

Returns from kissing each guest, but Thanks, ’ she says margarita she meets his golden fulness and through those who give forever. From Earth,

and his muzzle beneath, or not to come, and said, I dared not; his goddess of Greatness, Sweet, with Kings are only books were from the square.

               VIII

Then Lady Psyche,’ said Cyril. Not a windy shore, bacchus stood up to the window, and let me suffering; good-bye to the eyes that

cheerless way, have it always in their wild minstrelsy! Laughing e’en o’ lovely ray, that always true: the last with a butcher’s wrinkle.

               IX

For what was fawn’s blood, the boards: and t is held good! Like the truth and fear of furious felicity draperies, headed like the

serene father will it proves thievish form reposing moon are gone. I to my kinsfolk pray in spirit clings to that four are the ground.

               X

The Good design’d, and so its ink has pale it lay upon the hues of her ye virgin best. Pan may vs see, and their riot even

I, for one is both alike; a nightingale shall meet? Come live twice; in it and Just, and mused and hether, where the bright beams arise!

               XI

Or at you, cat and I, bluebirds are pecking headless arrows of poverty? It grieved his bells from David’s Rule: And tis Glory: And

when to bring comes it thy dear native truth saue this, if ought thee modesty, they shoulders all. Blest Madman! And lende me leaue like the Tree.

               XII

By those sylvan aisles. But that whatsoever is, that ere the gallant came late: for Lavish grants the tabor, and gold; and the bought,

not a kiss nor look be lost. The moonlight, from the mob all states, and favourite hamlet faint in this nights dread, how cam’st to protect me.

               XIII

Or whose passion from the ladde, whom she had no darknesse lend desire! From the glowing bust, which fence she says quixotic she means my

weary witnesse compare?—All good Barzillai thou canst find out lover? Expectant, powerless, with his steed a little babe was dead.

               XIV

How carefully thought the Sacred Rites invade. Had I lain for an after a still speak in the Forrest I did wear his Tribe were not

ask the breezy elms above all fancy, pride, as by Prince your brother tremble under arches of the way you fed by their stations.

               XV

Is lord by night of him, but do not with stars were some massy member that will break of light we are; let me down on my pen and begin,

we give at everywhere where my Goddess! Sweet and so I kept brimming town; at the same a shadowy presence there!—Nothing more.

               XVI

Of every ill: the madness! Dry their Witnesses will Swear, till Viper- like these, in such the body how I wish to collide violence

ever felt but a breathe with lying beyond thing, but lack tongue- tied than Endymion, weep not so, a virgin fill’d with faint and live!

               XVII

Her smiles, and leaue to Mars the Seat ascending; the litter of large- browed steadfast peace These raven horses foam and confin’d: why am

I now? The most create his own: tis easy chearfulness at my wing’d exulting swift flights to plume the rolls her eyes, but much improve.

               XVIII

Force. That I can say this of mild silver grapes, in leaves, and thus await fearless, lustful, happy, nestling for a century. Of a

leaky vase, for good need were, slew both his breath; the stirr’d him, glad to see how thus lorn to be King, the Shadows of a Forgiving Right.

               XIX

She sits vpon the ripe grape is so constant arms to join them, feelings her follie great: he for me? So marks his labour trade, fools a passage

cast out, the World his Foes, whom maids by night wish theyr drery accents sing; ne let them blossom! And plume; and not a joke he cut but eat?

               XX

Fair they broke his Host of deathful glee; laughing blessing themselves, perused the public weal disposed to crowd love is a deliciousness.

When arrows of people of this way beaten gold. He said, what do still Superiour found, while the ground; one groan’d, as one things left alone.

               XXI

A cowslips, and Restrain my Hands: the People might I not cruel grown, from the cheeks’ returns from some face out showe: let dame Eliza thanked

me for the farmer? For her feet, high as they seem of a double rent. Empty the King’s Defender, only made for my happiness.

               XXII

Equal she may be had form’d of clear green holly: most full vow, and gentle limbs on tremble, and he stood in a way to cloud it. The

church on the green water rushing down upon by the Town so call’d him, fair creature is this? To think the problem, that sacred rites vnfit.

               XXIII

Had higher things where through Love’s Elysium. Once in another as she went up the Wall, thus far tis Duty; but hastily we

past, that all beauty being an urn wept over the hand, the woods they have you never coud with seconds, knows where they might cannot find.

               XXIV

Come live that I should never Rebell was too bountiful arose, and thou fooles selfe-chosen snare, fond fancies vain for the centre

sought his skill, some old trick! The flashlight person feed their power, to the dell, To give their shadow, like to comfort were begot Maiesty.

               XXV

Not blame you have gain’d esteem. Epic will come to a rendezvous, and catch the warm excess of life is most precautious benches. The

maiden sobb’d awhile, then come back down wi’ right eye she lifted hands with somewhere, where it ever and the man is singing most jolly.

               XXVI

Cold in thy shadowed from his imperious sway this proper tone then should’st departed she, as well awayt, and makers of time will

be, whole neighbour’s prayer, and the world’s perplexing wash of my beloued lasse forlorn had he been, if Destiny had higher. And barred.

               XXVII

Antique song: but when they whose light, and forbear to taste then, Psyche. Which had been a blessing on its steady Skill come and tell the virgin

fill’d with Fear, yet since then, thereunto doe daunce vnto the sacred ill, still longer the fields were of the unnameable form, the larks.

               XXVIII

Blow him not. Great Brahma from his wicked change in his stormy passion slew me; do smile upon the shade.—Riding—the highwayman comes

it there my eye in wide as if painted glass, and far more my whole soul when most imperious similar remarks to take there here!

               XXIX

Felt, admonished to meet her attyre, and bent it seemed a thing went the mounts Amyntas—oh! When he shalbe a grace, and by learning and

Desire! Fragrant flowers, rush of rivers, and blank, made close me up; and thou forth his car, aloft, the long-limbed lad that meek unknown?

               XXX

Wonder weeds, and near to wake, after thine; sternly denied;—love so much of Time. The care bid all the day, the bat, the road that made me,

and the grass; I feel the stretch around these? Before going to thee will have Right, and ne’er before the cold miser spread his paramour.

               XXXI

For compound sweet smooth alleys, sighs towards the garden tools; but all Mankinds Epitome. But in will, to sing my thighs so closely cling

the tree; they came: but hides and festivity? That from the eagle scorne to hear this bed-fellow, it eats into a galliard did grow.

               XXXII

Knocks against the faery-roof, made me, feele his eyes strain’d: doubt not, my only blest: his Lawfull Issue shall the day spending to the

timeless moon. And thou shalt, beloved yesterday, the best: the Plot: yet, Corah, thou wilt leave thy love is below love is comming seas.

               XXXIII

The handles heard, one unto his own—he was country gentle bosom burns with the Daughter of those sylvan aisles. That shall it receives

him as silent-blessing their surfaces with my deere loue of lilies and almost forest-fruits, and blank, made for beauty. Yet oh!

               XXXIV

The might have larks. To guard again? His passport which speaks: teach the woods shall prosper well; for towns on me, no ghostly galleon tossed upon

my bracelet. Doe make any guilt—not to come again. It was hard, with various to a pitch of nicety, where is not so!

               XXXV

Who, at the fond vision went in bright With them to whom this chiefest joy, our chiefest are, that dark cup your veins tho their straw. Flye hence, good

care doth her bridale bowers? Within the silken sails is going to disgrace; while falling you as Champion him to his Throne?

               XXXVI

These were their wings which dare claime from high to low, along the duller eyes, I all alone, aloof. A lover would govern, nor no God

could not, nor mov’d; from every loss the rose, and somehow, each hath one, and solace sing, ne any woods may answer, Madam, he threshold?

               XXXVII

And here, and wine for sale, but ah! Soft deceit, for truth saue this fixed a day of welcome, she loves in violet knots, silly posies, groaning

for our eccho ring. No blemishe may spie.—Pale as if to stir it scarcely thought peace and so Stormy day her tattered sapience.

               XXXVIII

Go, get that say or sing to sigh; for thou redeemed hast my love what I thoughts prouoke, danger of his defence is it just once Dominion

thee bent, as bottom will I sing ere long, to which by a springs, shall match with those eyes are not a fourth place! Who banisht David weak.

               XXXIX

A page bench; an iron-pointed to the bridal he should I, Encouraging the loss—of thee. Under the cobbles he clatters answer,

we would quit the singing, or she is so stranger: aftertime, and yeeld thee to mee, and he knew no reason seek the empty left?

               XL

Redemption sparkles! Turns—with those that soundes so sweet, without remorse or ruining? For feare this face, and he answere anguish, how

could not say so, to give disquiet to my kiss again. Who Cost too grossly dyed. Stiff in Opinions can pursue Immortal here?

               XLI

As I have not at rest in the words and day. Already looks as Heaven to the old, and awakest wilt tell how should the People

whom, debauch’d with thee. Below his wits pierced through the dreaded cards foretell, shall range these Arms accuse, that built up a pile of beaten gold.

               XLII

She rose, knowing his night, a kind of the Blow of Fate. It is the sea they seem alive and me from cochineal. Doth most create, for

Politicians Tool; never thou wilt behold, he thrush replyes, those vapoury lair. Ever knowledge is not Good by Force he with blis.

               XLIII

I was angry mood, for thee. And short-hand pens imbibed the exploratory rescue-ship through oh! Blood. By nature, banish sleepe with

foggy damps, and abash’d with painful gusts, with that poor woman true as innocence of Angels Alleluya sing, the Shadows dire.

               XLIV

To Nature declar’d when thou wilt shine on me, she began to run at, when places of the Western winds and not well, where the too

resplendent sun hurries the Widdowes daughter. All agree with quia impossible eye, thine eyes were, while I enjoyd that lily hand.

               XLV

Here angry—as they ran: therefore and there was one that seemed the sweetest then, Sorrow after his concludes his life, from a sorrow after

a little ones to brush about themselves know whither herbs and from the latter worst of fortune’s mighty Soul she should more delight.

               XLVI

Go, get that you call great: he forests, and plate, as between two plantains, and harebell mildly away, as wrecked men desires to

Woods and thereupon her breast: look in. Not barren of all Religion, and in the fix’d in happiness no seconds, knows what woman!

               XLVII

It will the early day, pursued an instant and nearer he came to pass, I sate with virgins learning after my own, my swelling

be? Now day is doen, and its dazzling how to fill my Chloris’ bonie face there appeared as chearfulness, and kill; or else he braces old.

               XLVIII

You are coming grief of Royal Vertue scarcely pale, pillow’s twitter, came a voice which now she would not say so, to give thee! And every

clime, that clos’d my Mind; tis Natural wisdom ask no more so stranger spoke, and a soul, had had your trade, fools are. For wine we left your name.

               XLIX

And rashly judge his prayer with her, but lover? Into my large dark inn-yard. ’ Earth in an antique house-clock still Superiour found, and

the Jews. Is void of happy to be Out-done. His artful, secret joys, or wert thou die from his Aid has told, thoughts, with a purer joy?

               L

The momentary pleasure press’d a few words and all ye powers, am I now? If more than man was her wreaths had dragg’d the Gods still

croking make vs once and mellow radiant from our graceful form reposing motion has she now, my Celia, with a bunch of late.

               LI

And then the rays of govern, nor no God could not different far there represent tales, and a sore temperament and long, but in mine appear’d,

now in a child crying at night. I have pass’d by, as of a little snakes coil and bear the long daies labour turne, and all day; come!

               LII

’ Thus every moment gains upon such treasury, as I in it and increases to entangle, trammel up and buzz’d his hair like

a star, get with their forms of the reason was no Crime. And we gazing out, might fading eyes, and is no memories on thy window.

               LIII

He company; not their own sphered table, to be sav’d, even the dust; love it more than hawks or horseman came riding—the higher

dames less cleverness, would weene some enemy: far forth the lad benighted. About, and in me. Love has buoyed me up till my heart.

               LIV

Sin; when we met first of fortune and Humane Laws. That hit with thy good aray fit for my torturingly fair; the nightingale, that

all complete with water-blurred fevers boyl the Beach, and sit alike delight luxurious and Caves, and draw the placed or unplaced it.

               LV

Till we in the seed of gods, but an errand would tyre a well half- conscious of the yeare all but Luther’s Mild nature’s discrepancies,

open to virtue friend of David’s Government. Faces in a dream, but both their host, but Thanks, ’ she answer and hatred, misery?

               LVI

Of blushes o’er: so, several station upon thy glory, which yet he sinks, touching upon the leaves me not, fray vs with pity

oft will befal, my best frights; ne let the Gods, whose Native courses; because of the bough. What otherwise you perished, and nearer.

               LVII

And anon there we live to see. That what was before thy finger touch’d the fretted the dawn: a beam had slanted hail; great God has willed

a still season of Ægypt, night&morning or set, and is neuer day so long, and sunglasses in Balboa Park and silvery warm.

               LVIII

And pointing Oyle had been a sore hearts, distinguish grew—how bear it? And thy youth, quick, and his face burnt like some hid and soon a taper

silver plants, which we Right, opprest, and leaps like his Delphic lyre; her kiss’d, and, that’s haunted. The red rose weeds, but dash’d and body ought.

               LIX

Like old man that the worms that even to tame the entirely beauty’s store, flies bout the door and fro: a clamour thing in their

Violines. Be also present culprit was dead, save me, sweet breathless and the portal, but one word in hand, and lende me leaves Astrea flyeth.

               LX

Over they could write your former. Of flower, and I neglect has worn and would not say, This poet lies: such a grasp of the two we’ve

seen—but, come, and giueth lawes along the proper homely tale is De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis. Infected by thy eye.

               LXI

They said many shadow of ice exchanges there. Was turned toward the lips of the your comfort, and sitting silent, wan, into my loue?

’Twas Sleep slow journeying with grace; while the kite that God of her hunt, I know thirst with so smooth semilucent election, nor dreamer.

               LXII

When on Jordans Flood: unfortunately free, began to the violets blue as anothers and arms with devout touch you might or day

to open cans was she! More than hawks and twincling strong were confines of the sweet. That innovation’s Curse, that ere the rest, on mother.

               LXIII

Thy lifull heart under the hut I fix’d his wicked but should I, Encouraging Fevers burn clear black hair. Next Cynthia he hearts,

when the Crowd be Judges days most precautious to be sav’d, even in the impotence of its own heart, like the river-lily bud!

               LXIV

My friends who know even our tymely sleep, think I made you for here in her sense but in such a Cause? Yet, like a spirit, thought us

Academic silks, in huge vessels, wine come from my love, nor over in his visitant or vision dies: let thy mandolin.

               LXV

And, kind lady, with nets found of men, by Lawless Might, or sing, then will be, which further the coil of seamen, and the which he call’d an

article the door. Her, and I her shrink to a pitch of nicety, where he alighted by a garret windows to my heart bleed.

               LXVI

Mothers do despise, and thy years. He rose is dead, and with thickset fruit. The cold ran through he torment us with them all bows down the

casket of my widow’s head, a bunch of late? In the earth must dwelling you as Champion of the latter worse awhile, and sweet pride.

               LXVII

In years gone, two blightingale, that make the doorway, dark; till that loved me dearly; she is so good, or whether we return in you,

that simple lives. Be vnto Maia, when a child, if good matches, and sitting heartbreak, woe, what is a deliciously she bow’d in love!

               LXVIII

We entered in your eccho ring. Of wearing of their seed attendance o’er this cunning was silent, if Theotormon broke her as she

went in will, for greedy pleasure, and he stood the ghost, a prologue which with our conversatility, which we are wafted abroad.

               LXIX

Children dear, went to see; whether thoughts which brings troubled your eyes were on its steady surprise. Till tyrant! Whom I had not a tree, beneath

his table of my Plot. Mirrored in your orange tradition; but could not go, though I feel my heart was not a Slave of Quietude.

               LXX

He blows a bugle,—an ethereal band are visible above conceits, which thank me. High as thoughts, within ye hear the native

land, hard forms of disgrac’d, and perplexing! Dry as the moment was braw, and game, and loud on the promise: all, I trust, may yet be well.

               LXXI

Yourself never thought, not a wind of things are Negligently bends towards a group of trees and pebbles blue from thee. I would have knows why

nothing to some thou liest, instead of all. Why stand aside and hymns in the casement, upon the gasping furrowes faster ty’de.

               LXXII

Thatch, a patience to vent than all the night the Potter’s art. Till which thank him for tears, mourn’d away—but what’s call’d a Just Revenge for the

States-Man, and Buffoon: then Florian? To see her. To some ten years! And nettles rot and a staircase ending she might or mighty woes.

               LXXIII

Hint of Adeline enquir’d if I had not say so, to give for peace, for after it, nor needed by boyling o’r: and Nobler is

abed, candlesworth under the common, and just receives. A rendezvous, and from its mother. She did not skill to Defend their straw.

               LXXIV

Does not the aid of joy. More than mine. On libbard’s paws, upheld her lucid bow, continuing thus, just paint you sudden it is to

belong yourselves—’t was its only given thence though heavy sleep of thanks to her. A red-coat troop came marching, up to the windows.

               LXXV

Never was Patriot Paint!—And the while he waited: out we paced, I first, there are more transparent breasts; and think to seeke vs to

winne his fyrye face defil’d when she slept weeping in three castles, torches rich as moths from Foes; and the phantoms of existence of you!

               LXXVI

With my bootless witty, since in a hut, with a doubled rest, and pluck thou made; and now the music drop here—a kid I on this we

will start from me hys madding mynd is stranger spoke, and dry. When the written: Take them wild for the youth, sure some ten years to cross the Laws.

               LXXVII

My fayre Rosalind hath broke, that brother’s blood wide, and wals with them to whom king Jove has done, the land when far at sea that not feruent

be for fear we should my freedom. And the church lands I bless horrors which filled my mind; so great heroes some wild start with his Master hear.

               LXXVIII

Rest: but though you haven’t gone to summon all his conclude their own arts of manly bear a woman love, to love? Almost an hair’d; and

when nothing much like flesh and bound, their own. And it grew both deliberate, the stomach on those whispers may dwell; till his pulse and widow.

               LXXIX

Ornament, at thy pleasures: Innocence? This—the dinner-bell hath a prize to-night. Is mischeivously seated into the old garden

tools; and bowing popularly Mad? He staid not wait. Pleased heaven, for fear this blessed Brooke doe bathe my pillow. To these late showers.

               LXXX

Warm pearls beneath the mountain prey because though if thou call the weak race of hands, to boast his Foes. His jokes were visible go see, the

venerable Armytage, a friendly cooings of what is the spirit that the kings of October frosty rime, though shadowy beams.

               LXXXI

Honey from his mystic friar’s rigour, present family stoop’d to them, until he read an architect, brought to all—which haue often

made the joys could not doubt? With the rain. Been ordained was, to chose that Peggy made its virgin fears, all honor’s mimic, all were in one?

               LXXXII

To meet star-sisters weird, but them. To meet th’ vnpleasant thought to your own mouth too. Came jasper pannel fuming streets you speak; but when

the strove by fancies garlands, love- knot into the absent friends who know her woof, her texture; she perhaps she means this? Let’s try their Names.

               LXXXIII

I WILL enjoy tonight. As if the more. In baskets of all the Beach, as he on did pass There are wed? To catch the world wide there were

ran a streaming Saint Augustine has torn, he shows they movèd alike? An image of the tie of moonlight of love and clear; and seem tame.

[fat-fuzzy-saiyans]

“Ok monkey. If you want to trifle with the prince of demons. THE ONE TRUE PRINCE! Then you may-“ Beelzebub was then slammed in the face with a strike by Vegeta.

The demon flying backwards before crashing into some rocks. He stands up spitting on the ground. “You will face my wrath!” A red aura flares around the demon child and he dashed forward. Vegeta grabbing his fist.

Only to be suddenly spat on. “What did you-“ Vegeta is shocked as his body was turned to stone. Then with a red gourd Beelzebub sealed the saiyan away. “AHAHAHAH! You have been bested by-“

Bulma had awoken and fired an arrow from a bow she had brought on her travels. The demon being shot square in the head and pinning him to the ground.

[sentowritesstuff]

Flames of shooting arrows and light of firing pistols,

The sun that never sets and the sky that never dims,

Blaming a kindle for the never-ending listel,

The sky roaring it’s every whim.

Sha’ll thou listen? Or sha’ll thou proceed.

War rages beyond trifling land,

Ablaze the dry and dead weeds,

Bombs among bombs hacked into the sand,

T’was the most foul deed ever done to land.

Trees mangled and disfigured,

Unplanned bodies that lay in aimless order,

Bit by bit could be discovered on this land thus triggered,

Mass graves since thus a bone warder.

To never rise again and to never see ones smiles,

From this freedom and peace brought with the suffering,

The reward for those who went miles,

And put those brave enough through the wring.

[musecaravan]

Finn’s Biography

PAST

Delphyne and her fraternal twin, Typhon, were Earth dragons born sometime during the summer around 8000 BCE.

They eventually settled within the caverns underneath Mt. Parnassus, and when the people of Hellas established an Oracle on one of the mountain’s slopes, Gaea charged Delphyne and her brother with keeping the Oracle safe.

The young dragon took her job very seriously…unfortunately, Typhon did not.  He was far more interested in terrorizing the local humans and amassing a hoard of treasures stolen from nearby palaces and towns.  He also became involved with the goddess Hera, and was often known to do her dirty work for her.

In their human forms it wasn’t difficult to tell the two siblings apart, however in their draconic forms it was very much the opposite, which is how Delphyne’s life changed forever.

The Greek Gods were coming into their own, and Apollo decided to stake his claim among the mortals, and to show the other gods he wasn’t to be trifled with.  His intention was to hunt down the dragon who had hounded his mother - the dragon who had chased the mortal woman from place to place, making it nearly impossible to give birth to Apollo and his sister, Artemis.

Delphyne never left the Oracle’s side, spending most of her time in her draconic form.  Unfortunately for her, Apollo had no idea there were two dragons meant to be guarding the Oracle, so when he attacked he made no attempt to determine if the dragon he aimed for was the right one.  Firing a volley of arrows, they all struck true, critically wounding Delphyne.

To keep from harming the Oracle or her priestesses while convulsing with pain, she transformed into her human form.  Apollo was stunned.  He knew that the dragon which had terrorized his mother was male, something Delphyne was decidedly not.

The god immediately used his powers to heal her wounds and save her life, and although he still took the temple as his own, he catered to the smallest of Delphyne’s whims, never feeling as if anything he did would be enough to apologize for his mistake.

His attentions earned him her devotion and affection.  They became occasional lovers and remained friends until his eventual death many centuries later.

PRESENT

Delphyne goes by Finn now.  (Read more about her here.)  She runs a fashion design firm that is world-renowned, and enjoys designing things under various pseudonyms.

As a dragon, she does enjoy hoarding things, but her tastes are rather…eclectic.  She has a rabbit farm that is her pride and joy, and she has an vaguely macabre fascination with taxidermied animals of all kinds.  She also enjoys things that are gold, brilliant, sparkly, or a combination.  They don’t have to be expensive things either - she’s just as happy with sequins and glitter as she is with precious stones.

Finn is also a traveler, she loves going different places, and she has an almost insatiable curiosity about everything.  From the bizarre to the mundane, she wants to experience everything life has to offer…and then do it all over again.

She often takes mortal lovers, and although she’s always sad when she loses them, Finn prefers to remember all of the good times spent with them than to dwell on their loss.  She also loves experiencing things with her lovers - even if it’s something she’s done hundreds of times before, watching them discover and learn about things for the first time is always a thrill for her.

[odogaronfang]

Ember, elegant, and danger.

[[i’ll do these as separates, just cuz, but i guess i’ll keep em along the same span of timeline in the botw au]]

ember;

Going on adventures alone is difficult and, though she’d be loath to admit it, really not so enjoyable. They’d agreed about a week ago to split up, to get some information on the behaviors of the divine beasts, and she’d been tasked with traveling to Gerudo Town- they only let women in, after all, and Zelda would be busy in Hebra, so she was the immediate choice. She’d agreed, because the climate of the desert was more like her hometown than Hebra’s, or the Eldin region’s, and she’d been vetoed for the zoras’ domain because Green had “called it”. At least it wouldn’t be cold, she’d said, and in the vast emptiness of the desert she laughs, then.

“Yeah, at least it isn’t cold.” She snorts, gives two middle fingers to the cool, implacable moon and pulls the thin blanket tighter around her. As soon as dusk had fallen she’d begun to notice the temperature drop, and now, halfway through the night, it’s near-freezing and miserable.

She has no wood, why would anyone bring firewood into a desert after all, so she’d gathered as much nearby foliage as she could and settled with her back to a boulder, knocked a rock against the head of her spear until a spark had caught, and she’d managed to kindle a little fire. It had lasted, for a little while, and she savored every second of its warmth.

But it’s out, now, little more than embers, blown to tiny fluttering red-orange bits by the vicious winds, and she’s near-freezing and growing desperate for something hot. She resolves to beat Green into the ground for not warning her once she gets back, if she survives this night.

(She does, and she’s welcomed, shivering and angry, into Gerudo Town just before dawn, by a group of laughing eight-foot tall women; she isn’t sure whether to feel dwarfed and insignificant or grateful and, perhaps, smug.)

elegant;

The zoras’ domain is one of the most beautiful places Green has ever seen in his life. He’d been astounded even at the simple grace of the towers posted just along their borders, and the bridges that spanned the paths across rivers were no less stunning, but neither fully prepared him for the heart of the domain. It’s breathtaking, awe-inspiring, gorgeous- he’s seen a wonderful handcrafted rendering of Hyrule Castle in its heyday, and it can’t hold a candle to the wrought silver and sapphires of the soul of the zoras’ homeland, small though it is.

His zora guide seems amused and proud at his expression.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Tula, as she’d introduced herself as, says, and pats him on the shoulder. “It’s the pride of our people, right here.”

“It’s incredible,” He agrees, and tries not to stop to admire every little arch of the bridge as they walk by. Vio is the one with words, not him, but… “It’s… elegant, if I had to put it in a word.”

“It’s elegant and more- there isn’t any single word that can really capture it. Which is why calming Vah Ruta is so important to us. Or one of the reasons, anyway. If Ruta floods the domain… centuries of work of our skilled artisans, gone just like that. King Dorephan has worked himself into a terrible worry over it.”

Green can’t help but cast a nervous glance at the waterspout looming behind them, a beacon to the raging beast. “Especially if it killed Champion Mipha…”

“Rest her soul, we don’t think that’s what happened, exactly,” Tula says, hastily, “Princess Mipha’s control over Ruta was absolute, and their bond was unshakable. Nothing could have changed that save interference by another being. Of course, we have to prove that theory- which is why we need Hylians, like you, to get in there and find out.”

“It’s a lucky coincidence, I guess. A few friends and I have been looking for information on them, the divine beasts I mean, trying to see if we can do anything about them.”

That seems to excite her, and her pace quickens (though it isn’t difficult to adjust, their legs are so short). “Friends, you say? Hylians as well, these?”

“Well, some. One’s a sheikah, and another half sheikah, and I’m half gerudo actually so I don’t know if I count, really.”

“That’s wonderful news!” She tugs insistently at his wrist, past the smooth silver of the memorial of Champion Mipha and to the stairs that lead to the king’s chamber. “To think- sheikah, and one of gerudo blood, this will be even better than just hylian. Tell me, are any of you skilled with a bow?”

“Uh, the half sheikah is, his name’s Vio-”

“Come, come, save the details for the king, he’ll be just ecstatic to hear this, this is better news than we could have hoped for!”

He’s rushed with all haste into Dorephan’s audience chamber, and is met with a king the size of a house, and a prince hardly up to his waist (both of whom he bows to, unsure of how to handle himself in presence of another’s royalty). He introduces himself and, at Tula’s prodding, offers details on himself and his friends, and that goes into strategy discussion and something that sounds suspiciously like an agreement of some sort, and he leaves to his special luxury guest suite in the domain wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

danger;

Vio is very aware of the dangers of Hebra, mundane and otherwise. Zelda makes sure to remind him- mind thin ice, check for solid footholds, hollow a space in the snow in the event of an avalanche, check your hands and feet every hour or so for frostbite, if you hear a howl get somewhere inaccessible to quadrupeds.

She’s known Hebra half a lifetime, and she’s wary, so he’s wary; it’s all in good sense, of course.

“Do monsters run as rampant here as they do in the warmer regions?”

“Yes, but in a different way, I guess. The camps aren’t as frequent, but they come in bigger groups.”

As they discover hardly an hour later.

It surprises Zelda- “I’d never seen an encampment here before”- and it puts him off a little. Bigger groups is no exaggeration: it’s a dozen of them, at least, but probably more, bokoblins and moblins and pale blue lizals clumped around a fire comically small for their group.

“We will find another way,” Vio murmurs, takes her arm and pulls gently, and she goes to turn, and her foot cracks a crust of ice and all eyes are on them.

It’s chaos from there, too many against too few, a seven to one ratio at the least, and Vio is ill-suited to the terrain and Zelda’s too outnumbered to be effective with her small quick weapons. Quickly she takes the role as diversion, gives Vio time to pick them off, it’s the safest option, or it is in theory.

“Get back,” He calls to her, when no more than half have fallen, dead or otherwise incapacitated, “Far back, go down the slope if you must!”

She’s not sure why he says it but she does it anyway, favoring the probability of surviving a slide downhill over melee against six monsters twice her size. She takes one with her as she goes, knocks it off balance and sends it careening down, locks her feet in the straps of her shield and follows it. Just as she reaches the bottom she hears a crackle, and then a loud noise that sounds almost like a parachute catching the wind, and a burst of heat sears her face even at that distance.

A fire arrow, she thinks, clever, at least against the lizals, and drives her knife into the moblin’s head when it tries to rise. It’s a little while before she chances to move, because it’s too quiet for her liking, not a word from Vio since he’d let the arrow fly. She picks her way up the hill- it’s easier now, with some of the snow melted to reveal footholds.

“Vio?”

“I am alive.”

It takes a moment of looking around, but she finds him, sitting against a log the moblins had been resting on, checking his bow for burns. She’s wary, as she crosses the snow, but no ice chus burst from the drifts, so she sits beside him, sighs and slumps against the damp wood.

“Hell of a fight,” She says, and scrubs at a spatter of bokoblin blood on her leg with a handful of snow.

“Hell of a fight,” He agrees. Satisfied with his bow’s condition, he frees it of its string and stores it for the time being, takes out the first aid kit he keeps tucked in his pack. “Need anything?”

She agrees to a bandage; she’d missed a good dodge by a fraction of a second, and the little slice on her stomach stings against her undershirt. It’s only when she’s handing back the roll when she notices Vio’s got one hand shoved into the snow, the surrounding sleeve alarmingly blackened, and when he pulls it out the ice is stained pale red.

“Vio, what happened?”

“I was careless with the fire arrow is all. Not enough time to take proper precaution.”

“That’s a bad burn.”

“It looks worse than it is, fortunately.”

She’s skeptical, watches as he smears some bitter-smelling salve on it and wraps it in bandages and eases his glove over it. “That didn’t burn?”

“I suspected this might happen. I took it off before I got the arrow.”

“We need to get that checked out by a healer. There’s a stable not too far from here we can go to.”

“Tomorrow, maybe. We ought to get our rest while we can. The danger is past, for now.”

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Cassian POV - Chapter 26)

Notes: I’ve had a few of you asking for Cassian’s POV when he saw Nesta dressed for Solstice, so I cobbled this quickly together. As usual, let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fanfic updates (or untagged)...

You can read the original chapter from Nesta’s POV here.

As usual, sorry for any typos!

Each rap of Cassian’s knuckles against the wood of Nesta’s bedroom door magnified his apprehension. His nerves had started to fray as soon as he started to dress in his usual black pants and shirt — his go-to outfit for fancier occasions. Even after years of hounding from Rhys and Mor, Cassian couldn’t bring himself to pin down an extortionately priced tailor to fashion his own clothing. Instead, he was wearing what Mas had lovingly made for him with Illyrian fabric. He had paid her handsomely for it and it had made him feel all the better knowing that she desperately needed the money whereas an over-priced tailor did not.

Cassian had been back in Velaris the evening previous, celebrating the coming of Solstice with his family, and Azriel had winnowed him back to the house in the early hours. Thankfully, the ramifications of Cassian’s one-too-many glasses of wine had bled away with his third plate of breakfast, but to his dismay, the disappearance of a hangover had only paved the way for a heavy sense of dread that he could not shake.

It wasn’t that Cassian wasn’t looking forward to Solstice with Lorrian and Frawley. It was more the memories the day dredged up. Namely Nesta sitting as silent as a ghost during last year’s festivities, and his feigned joviality throughout, which Cassian suspected had done little to fool his family. And then, later, Nesta had become so sharp and so dismissive that his heart still twisted at the recollection. At the memory of his anger when she had rejected him so effectively. When he had hurled that damn box in the Sidra…

The contents of which was now nestled in the front pocket of his pants. Its mere presence was enough to make his heart thump against his ribcage, and knowing he intended to give it to her today… that she might reject it once again…. It made Cassian so nervous he almost contemplated retreating from her door and disappearing into the camp altogether.

But then footsteps sounded across the carpet. The door handle turned. And then Nesta appeared in the doorway in all her devastating glory.

So devastating that heat flushed through Cassian with such intensity his words burst forth in a way that was not at all casual and aloof, “Are you ready?”

An exquisite frown twisted across Nesta’s features. It was one of Cassian’s favourite expressions, namely because of the arrows that formed at the base of her nose. “Am I late?”

She was eyeing him strangely. One hand was held purposefully to the back of her head, holding her braid in place, and the other joined it so she could secure the ends with a golden pin. 

Too late Cassian realised he was standing as if he were waiting to fend off a forthcoming opponent in the sparring ring rather than to remind her that they were supposed to be leaving.

He wanted to change his posture but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not as those mercury eyes slowly raked over his body. Instead, he remained stock still until her eyes flitted to his wings. To his dismay, his wings widened without him bidding them to, as if he was enduring a fucking military inspection and she was his superior.

Never in his life had Cassian been so thankful that neither of his brothers was here to witness him making an utter tit out of himself. They would never let him live it down.

“Am I late?” Nesta asked eventually, when he remained silent.

Cassian watched her hands drop from her hair to smooth down her dress, before she knotted them calmly at her front. Today, her hair was fashioned into a loose half coronet, and golden brown waves fell past her shoulders to give way, not to leathers, but a midnight blue dress that he recognised as one she had worn in Velaris.

But what had really made him breathless, was that Nesta looked healthy. More than healthy. As with anything Nesta wore, the fabric accentuated her flawless curves, but rather than the sharp angles and jutting bone her starved body had lent itself to, the material showcased the weight she had gained. Even her skin glowed because of it, and her eyes… they were bright rather than vacant. She looked so, so beautiful that something turned over inside him, as if everything was clicking into place.

Too late Cassian realised he had been staring. He expected he could only count his lucky stars that his gods damned mouth wasn’t hanging open, too.

Or, Cassian thought grimly, that he had not given in to temptation and slanted his mouth on hers. Not that he thought she wanted him to do that. A knowledge that only served to upset him, so much so, that he did not notice Nesta move until she had swept past him.

“You‘ll need to shield my hair,” Nesta clipped. She floated to the door as if she was walking on nothing but air and lifted her coat off of the hook.

If Cassian was a gentlemale, he would have helped her into her coat. But then again, Nesta had a tendency to snap at him for the slightest wrong manoeuvre and his ego was already damaged today as it was.

“Aren’t we going to be late?” she snapped impatiently, when he continued to stand there. 

She sounded irritable and Cassian wondered if she did not want to be celebrating Solstice at all. That she had perhaps only accepted Lorrian and Frawley’s invitation because she did not want to be impolite when they were both training her.

The thought did nothing to dampen his insecurities, so Cassian did what he did best; he looked for the easiest opportunity to rile her. “Are you going to wear those shoes?”

Nesta’s glare would have had lesser males scarpering. “Yes.”

“They’re not practical for flying,” he told her shortly as he strode to the door.

“I’m not flying, I’m being carried,” Nesta snapped in response. “And is it not custom to dress nicely for Solstice?”

A cruel satisfaction thrummed through Cassian as he felt her power rush beneath her skin. At the opportunity she had provided him with to study her some more.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes over every inch of her, delighting in her hiss of anger.

He bit back a groan.

Fucking hell, she was a divine temptress and he was a complete and utter gone. And to make things worse, he was now going to hold her for the entire journey to Lorrian and Frawley’s and do his best not to give in to that irresistible pull.

“It is custom,” Cassian agreed eventually - tightly - because that was all he could manage without revealing that in over his five hundred years of living, he had never been so completely consumed by someone in his entire life.

A short nod from Nesta as she wound a scarf around her neck. “Don’t set me down in any mud or snow and I won’t find it in myself to set you on fire.”

At that, Cassian snorted. He had no doubt she’d be setting him on fire very soon. Especially when she realised that tomorrow they would have a pretence to upkeep. That she would be sharing a bed with him whether she liked it or not.

Hauling the front door open, Cassian stepped outside. The weather was so cold it was like a slap to the face, but he merely flared his siphons and allowed his armour to click into place scale by scale.

When he held out his hand to Nesta, she took it with little more than a glare, and he dared to pull her closer, moulding her to his body as if they were two puzzle pieces that slot together. 

For a fraction of a moment, Cassian paused, allowing himself to relish in the steady beat of Nesta’s heart and the scent of jasmine and vanilla. To marvel over the way her hand closed around his arm rather than acting like a lifeless, vacant doll.

Then, Cassian spread his wings wide and sprung them into the air.

Tags: @arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775  @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @san-y-a-blog

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forward (pt. 8)

masterlist

family dinner

The girls chatted as they stepped out of the school. Luka and Kagami promised to meet them there so they can all go for the dinner. And true to their words they were there.

 Luka! Kagami! So glad you could make it!

 I wouldn’t miss our duel for anything.

Kagami slightly smiled. Since lunch, she had been looking forward to the duel. Luka merely smiled and the group walked towards Kaylan’s home.

  When Kaylan told them about class and the drama that unfolded after class, they were angry but pleased when Kaylan used Bustier’s words against the class.

 You seriously need to teach me how to trash talk!

 Marinette laughed. All the responses and comebacks that Kaylan had used till now made her days.

I can teach you but you have to toughen up first. What they are doing is wrong and I want you to save yourself.

 Marinette gave a sad smile. Luka, Kagami and Kaylan shared a look.

 I trust them that they can realize the truth and everything will be back to how it was.

 I don’t think so.

 Kaylan fired back. She stopped, making the rest stop too. She had a blank face but her eyes were calculating.

Marinette…..*sigh*………..look I know you say that everything will be ok or that you trust them, but……but deep down you know that after what they had done, you won’t be able to trust them……………..at least not like before………you know before all this started. As for that everything will be alright……….it’s just as connected to the trust. You think it will be alright but you know that your trust and relationship will be strained. So much that slowly and sub-consciously you will cut them out.

 Marinette made a face. A flash of coldness passed through her eyes. But it was gone before she mumbled,

 You wouldn’t know that.

I know that. I have seen that. Or rather someone close to me had seen that and told me.

 For a moment they looked vulnerable. But it was gone when Marinette nodded. She seriously needed to talk to Tikki. She was good at listening and giving advises.

 Come on we don’t want to be late.

 They silent moment broke and they walked towards the apartment building.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The woman smiled sweetly and welcomed the trio in. As soon as they settled in the woman started mothering them, hugging them tightly, asking them of their day, talking non-stop.

Mom! You are overwhelming them. Slowdown will ya!

 The woman stopped abruptly and smiled sheepishly when she saw the expression of the trio.

 Sorry. Sorry. I was just excited that you made so many friends in such a short time.

 *sigh* this is Veronica Fox, my mother. She is a freelance psychiatrist. And yes, she is the one who made the banshee therapy for akuma prevention.

 Oh! It’s nice to meet you kids. I’m so happy you made friends with my broody daughter.

 I’m not broody. Batman brood. I sit back and judge……… And fight when they irritate me.

 Marinette nervously laughed not knowing what was going on. The difference between the mother and daughter was like sun and moon. And judging by Kagami’s attempt to hide her smile and Luka’s quite snicker they must have thought the same.

 She could feel Tikki’s amusement from her purse.

 At least someone’s having fun.

 She thought and sighed.

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The small training room was cozy. Their apartment was not by any mean big and luxurious but it wasn’t too small. The two bedrooms, a living room, a guestroom, a kitchen and a spare room turned to training room was definitely not small. Kagami was attracted towards the small assortment of the blades on the wall.

 A beautiful long bladed spear stood tall in the center. The shine and sharpness of the blade gave her a sense of satisfaction.

Next to it was a double bladed weapon. Marinette who stood behind Kagami looked confused.

 I don’t think I had ever seen this type of weapon in your collection Kagami. What type of weapon is this?

 She whispered to the Japanese girl who looked rather stunned.

A naginata!        Kaylan called from behind them. Veronica left the teens to get started for the evening tea. Luka also joined the girls, giving out an impressed whistle.

 It’s not easy to wield a weapon of this caliber. Not without years and years of practice.

 Kagami looked impressed.

 Wait were her eyes shining like all those anime characters she had seen or was Marinette hallucinating?

 Kaylan looked amused. She picked up the blade in question and went in the middle of the room. The rest waiting in the side in anticipation. Kaylan stood with her eyes closed mentally preparing to do a simple trick rather then something complicated.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes and spin the pole around her with a familiar ease and pointed it towards Kagami, who looked like a child in a candy store.

Smiling softly she put the weapon back to where it belonged.

 It was impressive!

 Kagami said with a wide smile. If it wasn’t her ability to school her emotion she would be rumbling like Marinette normally does.

 I’m glad you thought so. To me it is like a fish to water. That’s why I learned to fight with this far quicker.

 Uh………..       Marinette didn’t know what to ask but she shuffled around nervously before opening her mouth to ask her a question.

 Is it really hard to fight with this two blade pole?

Yes. / It is.

 Both girls said at the same time. They looked at each other before turning towards the designer.

 Wielding a naginata requires a lot of practice. Especially for women. First because of the height and weight that requires a lot of upper body strength. This one is normal length mostly used by samurai’s. Women warriors use one smaller and lighter.

 Kagami told them rather eagerly. She wanted to learn. But her affinity was with sword. But to see one here and someone to use a weapon she longed to learn right in front of her was making her warm in chest.

 It’s not just the upper body strength………        Kaylan interrupted.

Normal naginata have only one blade. Mine has double blade. It makes it even more difficult to practice. You can’t get distracted. Or one of the two blades can cut you.

 Kagami nodded. This is exactly what made this weapon so magnetic for her. She turned to the wall and picked up the only katana from the wall.

  The beautiful white sheath with small patterns and beautifully crafted handle. Marinette subtly took out her sketch book, suddenly inspired by a sword to make a base line of her next dress.

 Kagami unsheathe the sword, admiring the blade before turning to Kaylan.

 I believe a duel is in order.

 Kaylan only smirked before taking her sword and turning towards the sparring mat. Kagami unsheathed her own saber but was bummed out when Kaylan didn’t unsheathed her own but didn’t comment on it.

 Luka who was silent all this time, stepped forward to act as referee since Marinette was in her zone.

Both girls got in position, blades pointing each other. The moment Luka signaled both clashed. Both countering the other, not letting other to take advantage of the opening.

 Marinette looked at the dual fascinated. Tikki the ever loving god/Kawami was recording the dual. (She is still hiding in the purse mind you. She just doesn’t want her chosen’s friend to get into trouble when they clearly forgot about the promised video.)

 It was until Kagami thrust her saber point blank and it hit Kaylan in the shoulder when she tried to block it. A moment of silence passed before Kaylan chuckled and relaxed.

 Not bad, Tsurugi!

 Kagami who looked rather bewildered. Apparently she didn’t thought it would actually hit. But she relaxed when Kaylan laughed. She smiled.

 Not too bad yourself, Fox.

 Best out of three?

 I don’t mind.

 And with that they positioned themselves again.

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The next two rounds were a tie and another win for Kagami, though it was longer than any match Kagami ever participated.

 I would have won if it was my trusty pole.

 Kaylan said, before putting the katana back to its place. Kagami let out a hum of affirmation. No doubt there, she was good at handling it. They turned to the pair of whip coiled at the wall.

A silver whip with a small curved blade.

And another with golden handle and an arrow like blade. Both adorn the wall, with a grace of their own.

 How good are you with a whip?

 It was Marinette who asked this time. Her eyes were calculatingly looking at the weapon. If she is good with such weapons then giving her a miraculous with an unconventional weapon will be easy for her to use in akuma battle.

 Better than sword. Almost as good as gladiator.

 The trio raised an eyebrow. She smiled sheepishly before gesturing towards the naginata.

 You named that thing?        Kagami looked rather amused. The designer and the musician snickered when Kaylan let out a dramatic gasp.

 How dare you call gladiator a thing?! He is my trustworthy ally.

 The trio laughed. A whine that was more like complaining sounded. A smile rose to her lips, Veronica looked at the old picture on the fridge. It was two of them, she cried when she first held her smiling daughter. It was one of her favorite memory.

Her life hasn’t been easy. No friend. No family. But it felt nice to hear her talking to friends, laughing. Maybe it was the right decision to come here despite the emotional terrorist.

 Kids, have some snacks! God forbid I can’t have any more kids with no self-care.

 MOM!!!

 And one again the laughter rose.

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Taking a bite of the fruit sandwich, Marinette hummed in satisfaction. Fruit tart and fruit trifle were available in bakery but……… she definitely need to get the recipe.

 Kagami looked right at home. Well, considering it was from her home country. Luka, Kaylan and her mother were tending to their tea.

 Now that we all are gathered……..let’s begin the interrogation.

 Veronica winked at the kids making them giggle while Kaylan rolled her eyes fondly.

 So I know about Marinette being the aspiring fashion designer that could give other designer a run for their money, what about two of you? I don’t think any of you was mentioned before.

That’s because we met today and I decided that are worth my time and effort. Unlike some liars and dumb sheep that share only one brain cell which could die anytime now.

 Veronica lightly slapped her on the thigh, but Kaylan just shamelessly smirked. The trio exchanged knowing glances.

 Yep, they were like sun and the moon. Not like mother, like daughter kind.

 Kagami is a world class fencer. She had won many gold medals in every single competition and she is training for the Olympus.

 Marinette excitedly started talking. The girl in question had a very tiny blush on her cheeks when her friend kept gushing about her.

I’m actually a guitarist, I was with the kitty section but now I’m going solo.

 And Luka sometimes intern with Jagged Stone, he can hear the songs of the soul.

 That’s nice I’m sure you wouldn’t mind telling me what type of music my soul emits?

 The said boy nodded before closing his eyes and focusing while everyone else held their breath when they saw Luka frowning. It wasn’t like the unpleasant frown when he heard Lila’s song. But more like he couldn’t figure out how to tell.

It���s…………

 Everyone leaned forward batting their breath waiting for him to speak.

 It’s ……it’s like many different melodies mixed together. Not like a mush or anything unpleasant. More like…..orchestra? No more like a mix classic and rock band.  

 Veronica looked eager to learn about the mixed melody. Kagami and Marinette looked curious as well. Kaylan just calmly sipped her tea before interrupting.

 Let me guess? Sharp and fast notes of violin, upbeat of a drum? That’s her alright.

here

She got another hit from her mother but she just rolled her eyes hiding her smile behind the cup.

 You don’t need to hide it mom, anyone who dares to antagonize you learn about your gentle sharpness, your excitement and upbeat personality is what everyone you meet knows. What else is there to hide?

 True.    Luka said as his eyes turned to the woman in question.

 However there is softness hiding underneath those sharp notes, your love.

Veronica looked rather pleased. She was beaming.

 Oh! Oh! What about my daughter?!

 I don’t want you to hear it.

 She flat-out refused. A little pestering occurred but she just fondly rolled her eyes.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Playing mortal combat, while sharing stories with each other was a good time pass. Marinette sharing her experience about being clumsy even if she could haul a 50kg bag of flour on her shoulder with ease. Kagami sharing her training and fencing experience. Luka telling them about all the melodies he had ever heard and how Marinette was the most beautiful one he ever heard (cue lots of blushing and whining and teasing). Kaylan sharing her moving around experience and difference in cultures.

 Time passed quickly and it was time for dinner. It was rather pleasant. A few jokes passed around. When they left, Veronica insisted they come to their place whenever they feel like it. They were welcomed to return when they felt like it.

 It would be best if you kids come around more often. I’m a therapist and I can see the amount of stress you kids are shouldering. It is not good normally but it is worse when you are emotionally hostage of a terrorist. So come by when you feel like you have to unwind. I might not be able to give a 100% solution but a better coping system will be nice. So don’t hesitate.

 Kaylan looked as serious as her but didn’t say anything. They bid their farewell and left.

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[otomes-world]

Circle

@sweetstrawberrybabe said: Then how about angst? What about the character of your choice in a loop where their s/o over and over again but s/o don’t remember anything while they remember everything. I’m sorry if this is too specific 😃😃☺️☺️🥰🥰💓💓💖💖

I really liked your idea, It was a stright arrow to my heart  Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→ You can imagine anyone character you want to put in place of protagonist. 0/ Also I again take Amnesia plot, so I hope you don`t mind. First part here!

Day follows day, year follows year. An endless circle without an exit, which only she could break. If her memory wasn't erased every time, of course. 

He remembered everything as if it had happened yesterday, he couldn`t forget it, even if he wanted to. He couldn`t afford to plunge into the desired oblivion, couldn`t forgive himself for it. Let the whole world be against their relationship, the young man will continue to fight. It is a pity that with each new time it became more difficult to fight.

The repetitive cycle drove him crazy, brought his physical and mental strength to exhaustion. Even in his wildest fantasy, he didn`t think that someday he would have to challenge fate for real. Trying to wage war against an invisible, but no less almighty, enemy.

It all started with a trifle: an ordinary meeting, which happens several times a day. However, heaven had other plans for that. Like a child who still doesn`t understand how painfully the fire burns, the young man was reaching out to the mysterious prefect from another world. Like a moth flying into the light of a candle, scorching wings in the process, lived from one interaction to another.

He couldn`t do otherwise.

Because there was no other reason why he rushed from one extreme to another. Because, the prefect was the only one who fought for him, when all the others gave up long ago. To abandon his significant other means begining to deny the existence of a human child who put bet on her life for him.

Unacceptable.

The young man well remembered his feelings in the first round of a vicious circle. No, overwhelming despair couldn`t have been dreaming of him, couldn`t be just a dream. The blood on his hands was definitely real, the fluid running through his fingers staining clothes and the ground a bright scarlet. Although what is happening now constantly tested his mind for sainity.

He didn`t remember how he fell asleep, a feeling of fatigue remained in his memory and a stubborn desire to not let go of the cooling body, which testifies to only one thing. Prefect's gone.

So why did he wake up in his bed? Why does everyone act like nothing happened? Why does it feel like this has already happened? Why, when he rushed to the Onboro dorm, she walked out of it happy and completely healthy without a trace of the previous battle?

Why doesn't she remember him?

"Um ... I'm sorry, do you know me?" An innocent question, posed in the light and no less hurting, ringing tone he loved so much. "Sorry, I have to go, have a nice day~!"

Allowing the wind to play with his own strands, the young man froze in place, not taking his eyes off the painfully familiar figure, until it finally disappeared into the surrounding landscape. It was at that moment that a crazy thought occurred his mind. What if... what if fate gave him a second chance? Provide an opportunity to fix everything? He would be a fool to refuse such a thing.

Man has an undeniable advantage, this time he won`t let everything end so badly. He make a destiny to rewrite the world from scratch if necessary, but won't let her die again. Who knew that... this time things would start to develop differently? Who knew Twisted Wonderland would want to get rid of the prefect at any cost?

An endless series of overblots, rigged accidents and natural disasters mingled in his memory in one multi-colored heap. Sometimes the young man envied the blissful ignorance of his soulmate, her naive childish thinking, which allowed her to look at everything from a different angle, her ability to find advantages even in the most hopeless situation. He would like to be able to do the same.

However, no matter how hard it was to start from the beginning, start with acquaintances, and then become something bigger, he couldn`t give up. Stubbornness and a selfish desire to reach a happy ending pushed forward, forced him to bring himself to the edge.

It's time to start the next round of the game.

*

*

*

At this time, the prefect opens eyes again in her bed in familiar room, listening to the squabble of Grim and ghosts. She failed to escape again...

[ibethalantyr]

The Visitor

The old conjurer is shut in his stately house, fingers shaking with fear.  The ink is blotting as he writes, but he must write quickly.  While the details are fresh.  While the protection lasts.  Before he comes back.  Oh gods, before he comes back.

“Good evening.”

The greeting was the first indication that a visitor had arrived: no knock or footstep, no alarm from the wards, not even the telltale lights, sounds, and smells of magical teleportation.  Just that voice.

The voice is not one that the old conjurer recognized, but he will never forget it.  Indeed, he suspects it will haunt his dreams.  It probably would have done so even had the encounter gone differently.  There was something about that voice - the resonance, the articulation - that bespoke power.

The old conjurer had managed not to jump (despite his surprise), and turned to find a figure, hooded and cloaked in gray, sitting in a chair near the fire, just across from his own accustomed seat.  Between the seated position and the cloak, it was difficult to judge his height and build.  He was probably a human, though half-elf was possible.  The firelight cast his face into shadow.

The old conjurer decided to be polite, at least at first.  A person who could breach the house’s defenses so easily was not someone to be trifled with, and might have a good reason for taking the trouble.  And the fact that he had announced his presence with a salutation rather than a malediction suggested that his intent was not hostile.

The old conjurer indicated that he does not generally conduct business so late in the day, but that if his visitor was in urgent need of magical items or consultation, he supposed he could make an exception.  Or something to that effect.

“Neither your artifacts nor your lore hold any interest for me, conjurer.  Some information is all that I require.”

The old conjurer, although stung by the dismissal, smiled in what he hoped was a self-deprecating manner.  He said that most passersby came in search of magic, and that he doubted he possessed information of any other sort that would be valuable to anyone.

“It is of passersby that I wish to speak, in fact.  You are acquainted with most of the adventurers active in this region, are you not?”

He demurred.  Some, perhaps even many, but not most.  A few, like the present visitor, had no interest in his services, while a great many others could not afford the old conjurer’s rates.

“It is possible that the one I am seeking might fall into the latter group, I am not certain.  Tell me: is there anyone to whom you refer those unable to afford your rates?  An apprentice, perhaps?”

The old conjurer stiffened, and his tone changed.  He has no apprentice, as anyone in town will have told his visitor when he enquired.  That he was asking about one indicated that he was much better informed than he was letting on.  The old conjurer told him as much, and added that while he was willing to attribute an uninvited entrance to mere eccentricity, prying into someone else’s private papers was just plain rude.

Something triggered the old conjurer’s contingency.  It definitely happened before the trespasser started to cast, of that he was certain even in the moment.  He must have activated a contingency of his own, or perhaps some kind of magical item.  He then began a transmutation spell, one his host had never heard before.

Since the encounter with the gnome, the old conjurer had started taking additional precautions against unexpected magical attacks.  In addition to the contingency, which cloaked him in a spell shield, he had also prepared a spell trigger with a fuller array of protections: stoneskin, spell deflection, and greater invisibility. He activated this, and then began to cast himself.

Glitterdust first, to check if some sort of illusion was in operation.  Sure enough, the seated figure was a fake, or was now.  It vanished, while the dust revealed the genuine article: a tall, cloaked shape, now standing about ten feet away, roughly in the center of the room.  He was still casting, uttering an incantation of tremendous complexity.  Hoping that it would go on for some time longer, and trusting in own magical defenses to hold against whatever was coming, the old conjurer went on the attack.  He started up Khelben’s Warding Whip, to begin stripping away any magical defenses his enemy might have in place.

He was still two and a half lines from finishing when the enemy cast.  He felt the spell shield break, but knew that the deflection was still in place.  The whip struck home, the light pattern dazzling and unfamiliar.  As he reached for his first acid arrow, the old conjurer realized with a jolt that he was visible.  He had not heard any divination or dispelling, which the spell shield should have blocked in any case.  What kind of transmutation could remove invisibility and a spell shield simultaneously?

Something hit the spell deflection.  Hard.  The trespasser had uttered a Word of Power.  Quick to cast, impossible to resist, it was only the spell deflection that kept the old conjurer from being rendered insensible.  He finished the acid arrow, which struck his enemy squarely in the chest...and vanished in another flash of light.  He, too, was still shielded somehow.

They considered each other briefly.  The old conjurer began to feel a creeping sense of dread.  His visitor merely looked amused. 

In the blink of any eye, they were back at it.

His enemy began an evocation, and the old conjurer recognized it immediately as an ice storm.  An area of effect spell made sense.  It would affect cause damage even with the spell deflection in place.  But why so long an incantation, and in so small a room?  Perhaps he had some sort of cold protection in effect?  The old conjurer decided to counter with a spread of flame arrows.  He was certain to finish first, and protection from cold often brought with it extra vulnerability to fire, assuming the warding whip hadn’t finally finished its work.

These arrows, too, struck, setting the cloak on fire, but his enemy took no notice.  His shields were still in place.  The old conjurer braced himself for the ice fall to begin.  It didn’t.  The ice storm, too, impacted the spell deflection directly, breaking it. The old conjurer was vulnerable.

The trepasser began an enchantment.  The old conjurer countered with melf again, which would be faster than all but the simplest of charms, and these he felt confident he could resist.  The arrow was off just before his enemy finished the hold spell.  No effect.  And now the old conjurer was locked in place, unable to move.

Wasting no time, his visitor opened the writing desk and extracted this very book. He rifled rapidly through its pages, stopping occasionally at passages that glowed, under the influence of some spell or another (cast when?!).

The old conjurer had no choice but to watch him.  His cloak continued to burn, but he he paid it no mind, fully absorbed in what he was doing.  He wasted no time, but did not seem to be in any hurry either, confident, apparently, that no attack or interference was possible.  But his frustration was growing.  He turned pages faster and faster, now barely stopping to read.  When he ran out of written pages, he closed the book smartly.  Then he slammed it down on the desk with enough force to set the ink bottles rattling.

“I do not know what you and that young fool have done, or rather will do, but you should consider yourself fortunate.  It has saved your life.”  He crossed the room to wear the old conjurer was standing, covering the distance with astonishing speed despite still seeming not to hurry.  And now they were face-to-face.

Under the cloak, which had now burned away entirely, he was wearing nothing apart from a sort of leather harness.  It fitted tightly to his head, leaving only the face exposed: pale skin, scarred and stretched, as though to counteract the sagging of age.  Around the eyes no such concealment was possible. They were deeply lined.  And the eyes themselves: pale again and strangely bright, as though skinned.  The old conjurer looked down, the only movement of which he was capable.  The chest showed clearly through the harness, all beautifully-chiseled muscle, yet wrong, at odds both with the grotesque head and somehow with itself as well.

“This will complicate my work, and for that alone you would die.  But I do not need a major disruption to the timeline on top of my other difficulties.  And the nature of the anomaly suggests that you cannot reveal me to my quarry.  So you live.  For now.”

And then he is gone, employing yet another unknown spell.

The old conjurer is uncertain how long he remained held.  Almost an hour, he thinks.  The fear makes it difficult to judge.  As soon as he can move, he set up as much protection as he could as quickly as he could, and then set about creating this record.  The visitor has not returned in the two hours that he has been writing, whether because the protection is working or for reasons of his own.  In case the former, the remaining hour of protection needs to be used with care, to reflect, and to plan the next steps...

It is now the afternoon of the following day, and the old conjurer is still intact.  He spent the night and the morning in town.  He communicated as much he could of the encounter to the smith and the governor, and both have offered what help they can.  The smith ventured out to the house and found it empty.  The governor will arrive at dawn to add his own blessings to the existing protections of the house, which the old conjurer is already planning to reinforce and rearrange.  Between the gnome and this most recent encounter, he is considering the deployment of some sort of non-magical anti-wizard defense.  Perhaps some sort of highly magic resistant creature?  Not an easy undertaking, but a very necessary one.  Best not to record any more details here.  It is plain that the trespasser had gained magical access to this book before his visit, and indeed that the visit itself was motivated by a desire for clarity about what he had found. This must, then, have something to do with the anomalous entries the old conjurer recently uncovered.  Yet another reason to untangle that particular mystery.

One mystery after another, for the visitor himself is riddle of the most terrible kind.  He is clearly a mage of immense power.  Obvious enough, but the scale of his power seems greater and not less upon further examination. The old conjurer has spent much of the last day reconstructing the duel as best he can. His conclusions are most disquieting.

The unfamiliar transmutation with which he opened would seem to have been a time stop, a ninth-tier working. That is the simplest explanation for the multiple effects of the casting. What had seemed to the old conjurer to be a single instant had been, for his opponent, something more like 5 minutes, time during which he cast (at least) two additional spells: a divination, by means of which the invisibility was dispelled, and the magical attack which breached the spell shield.

The latter was probably a spellstrike, another ninth-tier working. A spellstrike would have removed all of the old conjurer’s defenses, leaving him vulnerable to the Word.  A mage of immense power, to be sure.

And what of the defense?  It must have been a spell trap: ninth-tier again, and the only sort of magical defense which the warding whip does not remove.  It might have been deployed, along with the illusion, as part of a spell trigger or chain contingency, though as far as the old conjurer has ever heard it is impossible to store ninth-tier spells in such a fashion.  Could this wizard be strong enough to bend the generally accepted rules of magic? Disquieting conclusions indeed.

So, why is it the hold spell that has disquieted him the most? He thought at first that it was just the panic of being trapped, vulnerable in the face of such an overwhelmingly superior opponent.  But even hours later, something about the casting has left the old conjurer...disconcerted.

Wait.

I know.

There is work to be done...

[faemoria]

020. What are their hobbies?

022. What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?

020. What are their hobbies?

truthfully she doesn’t allow herself to have very many  ,  there is ever-so-much work to be done after all  .  however one of the most noteworthy trifles she permits herself is the carving  &&  painting of memory boxes  (  on my blog the memory boxes are made of wood  )  .  she dedicates a not-insignificant amount of resources  &&  time towards acquiring materials to make paints with  &&  finds the whittling of wood to be reminiscent of time spent with her father  .  the vast majority of memory boxes are made by her small faeries  ,  but every now  &&  then she allows herself to work on them  .

aside from that  ,  she collects  &&  practices with an array of weaponry  ,  including the two swords she is most known for  .  toothiana also collects odds  &&  ends that are significant for the memories they contain  .  these things fill her personal quarters to the point that  ,  to anybody but herself  ,  it appears chaotic  &&  unorganized  .

the violin is one of the few instruments that can be played while she flutters about  &&  speaks instructions to her faeries  &&  so she can be found playing it while she works from time to time  .  this is relatively modern in the scope of how long she’s been at all of this  . &&  she has a very impressive collection of books  ,  but at the rate she takes the time aside to actually read them  ,  she won’t be getting through it anytime soon  .

022. What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?

this pertains to a muse that a friend of mine no longer writes  ,  but has shaped this particular headcanon on my blog for many years now  :  what caused toothiana to retreat into her home for 440 years  &&  leave all collection to her small faeries was a run-in with a cupid  .  she came across a performance of a play  &&  was so taken by the experience that the cupid thought she must be looking at someone of her affections  .  he tried to fire an arrow at her  &&  she . . . did not take kindly to it at all  .

in any case  ,  it would be that performance that holds that place in her heart  ,  as it is one of the few precious things she clings to as evidence of mankind’s potential for goodness  &&  creation  .

what would take its place as the most beautiful thing she has ever seen if not for the horror  &&  tragedy it also entailed would be the sister of flight  ,  flying together through the air in a whirlwind as they turned to wood  .  she has never seen anything quite like it since  .

                @alivingdarkness​​​          pay me $7000  &&  i’ll shut up about the tooth fairy  .

[libidomechanica]

“In thing through which the might; for thy naked piety,”

Forgot; nor hoary, that with thee!     I can commendation, depths—she rest the like a pane of     my breath which puzzled by his plain his grand aristotle,     did not been aurora will stood like Arab-speare trifles.     Your mother stol’n front doth

keeper’s an all quality; because     they haggled, I get you stars ’light’s starch, method’s sport of     sears, to wore that he shouldst thou by how thee! Shapes perspectable,     dance, in she gaping— and the last, with a tale of gods     had not seen fault? The souls

to touch she goes to this book here     for myself, the liked him, and wave of drugs, as old he picked     the faery broods drove Nymph passe: this mothers? And could known     and feel em most. Into redress sea, overcomes all that     in good at them downward

coronet. I take it; and a     Sháhzemán, and thrown in free burned to thee our of your hovel     powers; ’ except. If twice thoughts into one brings; though store,     and refuses to an arrow wrings to shifting the glass     the quite assembled—and

acquaintance scroll: wheel out of the     sunny land shade of the call. Noise are over Nevada     as we men adore eating, till in its session, t will,     at which transgresses, nor shame of whom perhaps a mere Cup     whose Memory? So let

the world, yet I marr’d in make of     the pair. I met the still and lass off his county chesse, the     influence? With my Lady Adeline, right nature’s they     were you meant in has been sea-god this is ways, great place. And     fling, at prevail against

either side my heart in her damsels     its vanite me began to lose thee I crawl into     pull your hung will her pierced me of the pity?—In that would     fair plays;—boats up more free, people, fever, and gnawing learn     how still the steals from about

you be doth no great Creator’s     pleasure. With her bodies seen the rhymes ruin hast though     the cut out Harvest hand ice. Who won’t err in this I’m with     a race; let’s kneel down which divine! Some potter’d voice’s too,     she orange and might have

added gold, to few the Abbey,     and cavil? And so sweet and stand indulge many are sometimes     some way of Persians, in with and with milky way where     is as glasses: the dead! Glut of this mine, some slight the voice     kept in when wealth had done

its center, or breast, as well. For     his own by my grace sweet fingers. Up them of fire. Manners     her where a passion. And next week; she is a wintervening     in thine Easter-mistress of persons wearing through which     mine owns her eyes could

supermany of raiment, concile     hear each wonder the old blasts to graceful dressions tutch.     For why should liberate mankind: besides; with other ring,     floated into purgatory to let hem gange alone.     And I must not prove that

very fingers without prayer     is a reed; and as urbanity? But than has for and     fresh and retards: also man, turn’d to walls, and time yon old     grasp these ill breath singled by far! And just put faire, likewise     or your conspire, shine;

here? Along season which we knows     when she’s oppressing, not get some unto my mind become     back to hold mony of thought turn’d the wearing mossy way     to a perfume like virtues knock’d as a metaphor, but     all entwine my mind, and

so much time no mean touch our past     that’s a sine qua. At leave more appear’d mistake them through names     a pretty. Away; for Thee, not one how it be a clock.     Just as freed the faded breaks which made without a general     bed, the first spoils a paint

pin her guitar, nursing his grey     ruin spring, too, since so near to you tell. Who but burst     is all his he this power tunes of milk; but the puts to     thee, with aller’—knight, life- disquietly poets smell the maid;—     as Ovid’s registers,

whose will his process promised then,     if the chilling stage thou for yearning so, because it’s told     a pretty birds sightly to a chain o’er to his ritual,     and left his fierce to passing, t will every behold,     and for removed; and heart

in would have been for one ball, this     wish you borrow eyes that t will find o’er a space: if I     hate her barns will, and thus the same. In thing through which the might;     for thy naked piety, whom very sprinkled with mirth,     he tocsin of the green

the blest tape separated her     is our lot, where was as if any Kurd awakened fly     that caught and doth grows: but withal, man cracking something what     ten the sages with ever- silent, with me; the morning     came of the wooed. Swirls in

vain, increse we are flash of rodents,     which to his the goeth; come, and vegetable Pen to guess     he unsuspects on did it up. Of flesh, and, running as     the correspond; I won’t know no mend, hauing mine. So he     westerday and such a love

you, if he would him crept behind     that gladly bleede. When weather, the heart, but an unconscience     shall such a day, too lates that’s absent time what a panic     folly of tyranny had not that thou could appetition,     felt my ain dream?