#for one he believed in the fae to the point that his wife tricked him with those fake photos of them

[likecanyoujustnot]

Cardan’s letters pov

Part 2: nearer

A/n: this part is a fair bit longer lmk if you wanna be tagged for the other parts

Part 1. Part 3

I stared at Taryn from across the room. She was laughing at something a courtier had said. I’d contemplated asking her if she’d heard from Jude, but as far as I knew she still thought Jude and I hated each other. And asking as to her well-being would be suspicious.

“Cardan.”

It took all my self control to not flinch at that voice.

I turned to him, “Locke.”

“You seem to be particularly gloomy tonight.”

I ignored him and looked at the faeries, all of them drunk or drinking, laughing and dancing. Happy.

“You could have you pick of any of them.” I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Maybe more than just one. Wouldn’t be the first time now would it?”

I wish Jude was here. I’d ask her to stab him. Not so bad that he would die, just enough to shut him up.

I’d been like that the past weeks. I’d sent the letter 8 days ago. She’d now been gone for 19 days. If past Cardan could see me know, moping over a mortal, fantasising about my former best friend getting stabbed, not even touching the wine in my hand, he’d laugh and sneer, call me pathetic.

“No it would not.” I still didn’t look at him.

“This mood wouldn’t have to do with a certain Duarte sister’s recent exile would it?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Locke,” I threw as much venom into his name as possible. “I exiled her, I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“Yes well, usually by now you’d be drunk out of your mind, a few lovely ladies draped over you and a gaggle of courtiers hanging off your every alcohol-slurred word.” He laughed. “Seems that that crown has made you rather boring.”

I wanted to throw said crown at him.

“Come join the party, a bed that big is surely too big for only one.”

There was only one woman I wanted in my bed. And she was currently in the mortal world.

“Perhaps you should be more worried about the amount of people who may be in your wife’s bed.” I threw a pointed glance at Taryn, standing awfully close to a green-haired faerie.

I would bet my title that Locke had not stayed loyal to his wife. The fae had twisted views on fidelity to one’s spouse, it was frowned upon, but also expected, especially among the likes of Locke, who believed they could do whatever they wished, I wouldn’t be surprised if Taryn took another lover to balance it all out. I had no intentions of ever betraying the trust of my wife.

Though I had already done that when I exiled her hadn’t I?

Locke didn’t even look at Taryn. Since we were both married to a Duarte sister, that technically made us brothers, though I would rather be drowned than ever acknowledge that to him.

“What my wife chooses to do with her spare time is none of my concern.”

Yes, like pretend to be her sister and trick the king into removing his general from his oaths, allowing him to do whatever he wants.

“Did you have any particular reason for bothering me Locke?” I looked at him, brows raised, unamused.

“Yes, about my birthday.”

“Your birthday is in five months.” That was it?

“Yes, I have something extravagant planned and I-”

I could see where this was going. “You are not using my gold to pay for your foolish personal revels, you have enough of your own.”

There was a flash of anger in his gaze as he said, “Very well. It appears some of Jude’s sensibility rubbed off on you,” and he left.

Good riddance.

I turned my attention back to studying Taryn. Everyone said they were identical, and they were, but I could tell the difference. Taryn didn’t seem to glow the way Jude did. Didn’t draw attention, didn’t make me want to do foolish things like declare how I felt for the world, risk war simply to get her back, do the things that haunted my most depraved thoughts.

Or maybe I couldn’t, since Taryn had fooled me. But I had been poisoned. And she had a strange quality to her skin.

I got up from the throne and left the party, walking to my room.

I was going to write another letter to Jude.

Locke was right, the bed was too big for just one. So I had to convince my wife to come back to me, to join me in that bed.

Jude,

Please come home, back to me, I need you

Why was putting my thoughts into words so difficult?

Maybe I should’ve been paying attention in school instead of getting drunk and spending half my time tormenting Jude and the other half staring at her and hoping no one noticed.

There had to be a reason she hadn’t come back didn’t there?

I assumed she was staying with Vivienne in the mortal lands, where Oak was as well. One would think if anything happened to her Vivienne would tell me, or at least tell Taryn, and if Taryn heard, Locke would, and he would undoubtedly lord it over me.

No.

Jude was stronger than that. She would never let anything in the mortal lands harm her, even if through nothing but force of will.

I wondered if her every waking moment was as filled with thoughts of me as mine were of her.

The guard had assured me that the last letter had made it to a messenger, so I didn’t see how she would not get it.

There was only one other reason she wasn’t coming back: me.

Had she felt that betrayed by the exile that she was staying away to spite me? Was the thought of being married to me, being my queen, that horrible that she didn’t want to come back? It seemed like something she would do.

Jude,

Since I cannot imagine there is much in the human lands to interest you, I can only suppose your continued absence in Elfhame is due to me.

I urge you. Come be angry at a nearer distance.

Cardan

I refrained from begging her to come back. Though if she didn’t respond to this I very well might.

If I had any clue where she was I’d go there personally. But I’d need to ask Taryn, and I did not want to talk to her.

This time I personally took the letter to a messenger I found scampering through a hallway. Half human male. Might be inclined to deliver a letter to another human.

“Make sure this gets to her.”

He nodded and took off, no questions as to why the king was sending a letter to his exiled seneschal.

It was out of my hands now.

All I could do was wait.

[orionsangel86]

Dream of the Endless - A Romantic Fool

After talking to @so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site @duckland and @notallsandmen over on this post I have been thinking about the reasons why I personally interpret Dream as a romantic and think that later Sandman stories have made a mistake claiming that romance and erotic fiction are all the work of Desire alone and not the actual Prince of Stories (and thank GOD Neil Gaiman confirmed those Sandman stories were not canon eh?)

Under the cut because as always it got long. Why I think Dream of the Endless is an old fashioned romantic with a soft spot for love stories.

I mentioned in the linked post that I don’t see how Dream and Desire can keep themselves completely separated when their realms blur so much and when they are canonically probably the two most similar of the Endless even above Desire and Despair (which I think is the reason they clash so much).  It’s also worth mentioning that when it comes to influences over mortals, I don’t think any particular Endless sibling has more of a sway than any other, they all influence us all the time such is their nature and I think it would be very difficult to claim only one Endless was totally responsible for certain things. This is the reason why they like to compete and play games with each other like they did in Three Septembers and a January with the Emperor of the United States (side note: this is one of my all time favourite comic issues and my absolute favourite of the stand alone stories).

So even if Desire does have influence over the romance genre and erotica, I don’t think that would make Dream particularly averse to them, because he is also very much responsible for love stories and stories about love and seems to have inspired more than his own fair share over time.

Starting with the obvious - he was Shakespeare’s patron. No matter what else you say about Dream, he is responsible for inspiring and effectively being the muse for the greatest playwrite who ever lived. Shakespeare’s repertoire includes a whole list of plays with romance and love at their hearts not least of all being:

A Midsummer Nights Dream

What is the one thing you remember most about AMND? The fairies yes? Titania, Puck, Oberon, etc. But the central theme and story of AMND is specifically about love. It is a very sweet story about four mortals who are caught in a love “square” and get lost in a magical forest where the fairies decide to get involved and fix their love problems (with some confusing mess ups in between) and at the same time, it is a story about how the King and Queen of Fairie are having a bit of a falling out and the King decides to play some tricks on his stubborn wife, before ultimately reconcilling with her. The play ends with a triple wedding.

In the Sandman issue A Midsummer Nights Dream. It is revealled that Dream commissioned this play from Shakespeare to be a retelling of events which happened long ago, as a gift from him to Titania and Oberon so that mortals may never forget the fae once they leave the realm of Earth forever. It is also revealled that Dream and Titania were once lovers themselves, though we have no other details about when this was, as Titania refuses to talk about it at The Wake. It is clear however that they are still on extremely good terms, care for each other deeply, and had a very close relationship even after they were lovers before the fae left Earth. Throughout the comics, whenever the fae are mentioned, it is clear that Dream is closer to them than any of the other Gods, Goddesses, or various pantheons we meet. Even though at one point he states that he does not trust fairie magic.

At the end of the day, whatever else you want to believe about Dream, Titania is the only lover of his that he remains on good terms with. So much so that even though she clearly has a husband, he is still gifting her love stories. There is an argument here that AMND is quite mocking towards Titania, who falls in love with a man with the head of an ass, and spends most of the play having sex with him and swooning over him whilst the other fairies look on in horror. I know some people have interpreted this as Dream being mocking and cruel towards her, but I didn’t get this impression at all from reading this issue. Titania appears to be delighted at the play and Dream explains clearly his reasons for commissioning it:

The short version is that Dream commissioned a romantic and magical love story for his ex lover, so that the mortal world would never forget her when she left Earth for good.

Pretty romantic in my opinion.

The Tempest

Keeping to the Shakespeare theme, the other play commissioned directly by Dream is The Tempest. Now, there is probably a whole other meta essay to be written about Dream’s reasons for commissioning the Tempest, not least of all how fitting Prospero’s final monologue is when viewing it as a closing statement on Dream’s own endgame. But this is a meta about romance, and Dream couldn’t even keep romance out of his self-insert human!au original fiction. Like AMND, The Tempest is also a comedy (interesting how both plays commissioned by Dream were comedies when he is so clearly living in a tragedy *sigh*) and like AMND The Tempest includes young lovers who fall in love throughout the course of the play. Whilst romance and love isn’t a central theme in The Tempest, it is still a big part of the story.

I just find it impossible to take a view that Dream would shun romance when he personally commissioned two romantic stories from Shakespeare himself.

The Sandman: Overture - Dream’s Personal Love Story

But this isn’t the only evidence of Dream’s romantic inclinations. The Sandman: Overture also includes some interesting clues to Dream’s views on love stories.

Hope asks for a story. She does NOT request a love story. She simply asks for a story with Dream, that also includes a princess. Given that Dream is the Prince of Stories, and has most definitely had interactions with many princesses over his long life, he chose to instead tell a personal story, a love story, and so we finally get the full love story of Dream and Alianora.

Even though it must hurt to relive it, even though the Cat of Dreams (not gonna spoil the twist) specifically states that they NEVER tell that story, he chooses to tell it to Hope. Not only does he tell her that story, but he ends it with a happy ending - not “happy for always” but “happy for a goodly while”.

The fact that the Netflix show chose to adapt on this love story further, by having it be canon that Dream carved their love story into the gates of his own kingdom - well, that only further emphasises how much he cares for love stories, even his own, even when the truth is it ended badly, and hurt him greatly. Would a non romantic person carve their own love story into the gates of their kingdom? I don’t think so somehow. Because even after all this time, even though it pains him to relive it, he is still a romantic at heart, and cared about Alianora and their love enough to carve it into the gates of the Dreaming.

A Mother’s Insight

Also in The Sandman: Overture, Dream’s time with his mother is particularly insightful. She is the one to point out how alike he and Desire truly are, even though he dismisses the very concept and takes offense (obviously). It seems clear to me that we are supposed to agree with Mother Night on this. She also raises two other interesting points - the first is when she realises Dream’s scheme to get his parents back together in the hopes that it will save the universe. She laughs at him, and mocks him, calling it “one of his stories”. Because even if Dream isn’t exactly the most self aware of creatures (understatement), she is exactly right. Dream, being a romantic, had hoped that his parents love could save the universe. A true epic love story for the ages. It is his romantic ideations that sent him to meet with his parents. Dream’s romantic nature is integral to the story of Overture working. If he wasn’t such a romantic, he never would have sought out his parents, he would have been more grounded in realism, and known that they would disappoint him.

The second point Mother Night points out, is Dream’s desire for a lover, as she offers to make him one so that he might stay in her realm with her. He declines of course, since Mother is simply manipulating him to keep him with her, but that doesn’t mean what she says isn’t true. Dream very much desires a lover. His whole family is aware of this. His love story with Alianora began with Desire sending Alianora to Dream after all. Dream’s wish for love and also romance is an integral part of his character.

Brief Lives - Motivations and Comparisons

Dream’s romantic ideations are also central to the story in Brief Lives since the only reason he agrees to go to the Waking World with Delirium is because he hopes that he may find and reconcile with Thessaly. His fantasies of reconciling with her are strong enough for Destiny to call him out and bring him once again back down to Earth.

Knowing what we do about Thessaly, it is very easy to interpret Dream’s feelings about her, and his romantic ideations about reuniting with her, as not rooted in reality. I find it very difficult to view Dream as anything other than a romantic fool when he is taking road trips across Earth on the small chance he may lock eyes with his ex lover across a street and they may fall back into each others arms like in some fluffy romance novel. He is ridiculous, and this is made clear throughout Brief Lives.

In fact, Destruction definitely agrees with me as well. He calls Dream a romantic fool directly.

Orpheus’s very existence is also a good example of Dream being a romantic. Who else could father a child who becomes famous for his poetry, his songs, and his epic tragic love story. In The Sandman, it is at least implied that part of the reason Orpheus meets his tragic end is because he is too much like his father, and the one thing that is made very clear about Orpheus, is that he is a romantic, with love being one of his main motivations.

I think adding all this together with the comments made about Dream by his own creations, the residents of the Dreaming, as well as his ex lovers at The Wake, it is clear that he is a romantic character, a character who is driven in many ways by his desire for love, and who rather fancies himself as the broody romantic hero (I just KNOW Dream was somehow involved with Lord Byron lmao). Throughout the comic, Dream often denies that he has any needs, any desires, to the extent that he denies that he is even a person, who has a life. He also adamantly denies that he has a story. Yet, throughout the comic, it is made clear that none of this is true. The reason Dream is so often at odds with Desire is because he desires so strongly - moreso than any of the other Endless siblings. It’s because of this that I think he would enjoy the romance genre possibly more than anything else. Romance is a core component of his personality. In comic canon, Dream has been directly or indirectly responsible for the creation of at least five love stories - two Shakespeare plays, the Song of Orpheus, the love story of Dream and Alianora, as well as the story that the African tribe tell their children when they come of age - the love story of Dream and Nada, the tale where their love was so passionate that every living thing that could dream dreamed of their love making.

So whilst the comics never directly state whether or not Dream is a fan of romance novels, his desire for love and romance indicates to me that he holds love stories in high regard, regardless of whether or not his annoying younger sibling has anything to do with them.

Also, not that it really counts for anything, but Tom Sturridge agrees with me. ;-)

[sophiebaldrywriting]

Chapter One

Elleri looked to the city that represented so much for her parents, the city she loved more than anything. Well, at least, before.

Now, a part of doesn't care what becomes of Velaris. After what happened, after the way Rhysand betrayed her, there was no line that Elleri wouldn't cross to make it right.

She needs that, perhaps more than anything. She needs to make him pay for the years spent in darkness, the loneliness that made her wish to be dead. Maybe she could finally find peace if she makes him pay.

She heard what people said about her brother and his... wife. High Lady. Such a strange title, something that was not meant to exist.

Prytian is old and it has it's own rules. A High Lady was never before and Elleri's brother broke hundreds of years of tradition. He has no respect for his ancestors or their ways.

" Are you sure about that? We can still go back."

Elleri turns to her husband. They weren't mates or lovers. Just two people who realised they could help each other. They did not cared one about the other the day they met, but time made them friends.

" There is no turning back. Not now." Elleri answers.

After so many years of plotting and making plans, of searching for Rhysand's mistake, she can't stop, even though she knows revenge might bring her nothing. Still, Elleri needs to try for the hope she may find a bit of peace.

In some ways, Arun understood her. His family turned their backs on him too, but, unlike Elleri, he managed to let go of his grudge. It was one of the things she admired about him.

" I thought you understood." She said.

Rhysand betrayed her and when she asked for help, no one believed her. Unlike her brother, she looked more like their mother, than father. She had dark blonde hair and honey coloured eyes. All the time spent in the forgotten kingdom of the fae from the South made her skin a bit tanned. So, she looked nothing like Rhysand.

" You know I do. " her husband said. " But there will be a point of no return and I want you to be sure this is what you want. If we lose, you have very little chances of meeting your brother or seeing your house again. "

At first, Elleri did not lowered her guard with Arun, she didn't trusted him. But in time, he became her friend and then someone who knew her better than most. As she knows him better than many after all this time together.

In time, she might grow to love him as he may grow to love her. But their relationship was built on trusted and truth and friendship. Perhaps both of them were scared of ruining that relationship as it was one of the few things they could hold on to.

" I am sure." Elleri replies.

It wasn't the first time they had this conversation and Elleri knows what he will ask next.

" And if we succeed, are you sure about what comes after?"

Taking Rhysand and his circe down wasn't going to be easy. They needed help from Keir and Ilyria and maybe even Beron. It wasn't hard to tell what all three wanted. A High Lord and no High Lady, no woman with more power than them.

Elleri would give them this. If they win, she will take only the title Lady and will trick them into thinking she doesn't handle politics, that she is just a pretty wife and nothing more.

Of course, that would never be true, but Elleri will never take place at meetings and other things. Even though they were not mates, Arun knows her well and he will not take decisions that won't be something she accepts. They respect each other to much to play this kind of games.

" Yes, I am." She says.

She is willing to sacrifice that. For a chance at peace, Elleri is willing to give a lot of things.

She and Arun start walking towards the city. None of them speaks, each caught with their own thoughts.

Will Rhysand welcome her as his sister? Or will he betray her again? This is the part from their plan that wasn't sure, but they will figure it out. They always do.

With Rhysand married to that woman and with them having a child, it was far more easy to turn people against them. His wife, whatever her name was, made a big mistake taking the title High Lady. And she was hated by many. Especially after dumping the High Lord of Spring at the altar. Yes, Tamlin could prove a good ally.

Their child may prove a problem, but Elleri wasn't going to kill a little boy. A few rumours about his paternity should be enough to make people doubt.

Kill him. Kill them all.

Elleri stops suddenly, making Arun stop as well.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

Kill. Death. Revenge.

" Elleri. Are you..."

" I'm fine." She answers.

Elleri takes a deep breath and the voices go, as they have never been there at all.

This was what Rhysand did to her. It was all his fault. For so long, Elleri bearly had a moment of peace. Sometimes, she didn't hear the voices, but she can feel them all the time. Asking for death. For revenge.

The only three people who know about that are herself, Arun and the healar who raised Elleri ever since her true mother died. A healar who is now dead.

" As loud as the last time?" Arun asks.

When she told him about the voices, he did not laughed. He did not believed she was crazy. He always could tell if someone was lying.

Elleri will be forever grateful for the fact that he believed her, for the fact that he did not laughed.

" Louder. " she says. " I was thinking about what should we do with my brother's child and they started. "

It was like that every single time. When she thought about her brother, the voices demanded blood.

" Who is there?"

Both Elleri and Arun turn to face a fae female. She is a few steps behind them, so she couldn't have heard them, but she saw them.

The fae woman has blonde hair and a red dress. Elleri recognise her immediately. Morrigan.

From all the persons who could see them first, why it was Morrigan. Elleri always hated Mor, Amren, Cassian and Azriel. Her brother's little group of bastards and traitors.

" Mor!" Elleri says with false joy in her voice. " Finally, I thought we have lost the way."

Of course, the blonde doesn't recognise Elleri. How could she? Elleri was just a child when her mother was killed.

" It's me. Elleri. Can't you remember me?"

Something flickers in Mor's eyes and Elleri knows she is starting to remember. After all, Elleri looks just like her mother.

Mor smiles, believing her cousin.

" Elain saw you coming, but we all thought she was wrong. "

Who was Elain? And how exactly did she saw them coming? Were they dealing with someone that could see the future?

" Rhysand had all of us searching for you for the last two months. He is going to be very happy. "

For a very short time, if Elleri's plan works.

Right after she speaks, Morrigan notices Arun.

" This is my husband, Arun." Elleri informs her. " Even since we found out Rhysand was alive we've been trying to get here, but it wasn't easy. "

When she finally had all the plan, when Elleri was sure she could win, Amarantha showed up in Prytian and they were forced to wait fifty years. After that, the war with Hybern kept them home, Arun being stuck with his cousin on a little island near Hybern and Elleri stuck home at the order of Arun's mother.

There was nothing they could do, because Arun could have been killed if we tried to take a ship home and Elleri... Well, she knows better than to try to run away from the Countess. That woman was capable of following them to the other side of the world.

" Everyone else is near." Morrigan says. " I will take you to them."

They follow Elleri's cousin and after a few minutes, they reach a large group of people who were at a picnic. Elleri recognised Amren, Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand, but the other three women were strangers.

" Elain was right. " Mor said, one of the women looking at as if she heard her name. " Look who I found."

Everyone turns to them, Rhysand walking with a woman next to him. When he comes closer, Elleri forces a tear to fall on her cheek.

" Rhys?" She asks.

She must first win their trust and only after she can try and find allies. But right now, she has to play the role of the lost sister.

It's always like that. Everywhere she goes, she needs to play a role ever since her mother died. And she's been doing this for so long that Elleri can't remember how to be herself. She doesn't even know who she really is.

And it's all her brother's fault.

" Elleri." Rhysand says. " I can't believe it."

Don't worry, brother, she thinks. You really are going to believe this, but not what will be next. After all this years, it's your turn to be betrayed.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 8

Accept your Wild side

The moon is high up in the sky, and Wild somehow does not fear it turning blood red. That was one of the things that left him wrongfooted before. There are many things he didn't know about the past. But this is one he is glad for. He doesn't want to imagine monsters coming back to life here.

The ranch, at night, is peaceful. So peaceful. Earlier, Malon's singing lulled the animals to sleep, and probably half the group, but it only made his stomach twist. She had laughed and wished them good night, her hand lingering on her husband's shoulder. Time never looked so happy, so relaxed as he did around his wife, well at home. He might have fled the second the others had fallen asleep.

Lying on the rooftop of the barn, Wild's chest ache with guilt.

One more thing to the list. One more thing Hylia wants him to remember.

He's trying, but can't find the words. Can barely make the effort to try. What will he tell Time? How will he... how can he apologize for something like this?

The tearing, rushing sound of shadow magic makes his heart leap for joy. It's the sound that told Wild the amnesiac that he didn't have to travel alone. That there'd be someone to watch over him, in the dark, in the storm, in the cold.

It's one of those sounds that speaks of home like Sidon's boastful greetings, the sing-song of little ritos or the taste of cold melon in desert shade.

Twilight materializes on the edge of the rooftop, furry and all, and Wild struggles to control his breathing for a second longer. He feels the tears close, and he knows Twilight notices them all too well with his wolf senses. Somedays, the shift is instantaneous, a steady hand on his back, a desire to lean back against a solid chest and furred shoulders.

Somedays, it's a beast that settles over his lap, and Wild takes the added weight on his legs like he's been given a second chance. He sighs, hangs his head, and, hands through fur, whispers 'thank you' as he lets the comfort of his brother's presence sink in. There's no need for other words. He runs them through his mind, and they weaken when he gives in and lets go of his tears.

'Thank you,' he tells Hylia for the hundredth time. For giving him that much longer with Twilight.

(He'd been prepared. He had known and Wolfie hadn't hidden it, as well as a wolf could tell him. That time he'd seen the black particles fly skyward, he'd known that was it, his friend was back to the realm of the goddesses.)

(He'd faced Ganon without fear, without faltering, and he'd rescued Zelda after a hundred years of fighting, and he had finally let the shame untie itself around his heart.)

(But he hadn't realized how much it would hurt to walk a lonely road, to see wild wolves that were a blue-ish gray instead of green-hued. To hear barking and never see his friend again.)

(Wild had been told his past self had lost everyone. Wolfie was the first one he did as himself.)

He's dried out the tracks on his face when the shadows shift, and the weight disappears.

“Need to talk about it?” is Twilight's opening move.

Wild thinks about it. “Probably.”

“Do you want to?”

The idea makes his mouth taste of ash.

“Later.”

Twilight doesn't say anything to that, and instead brushes the roof before sitting down and lying on his back. “Recognize any stars?”

Wild chuckles. “Still haven't found the Goatherd up there. Face it, it's a fictional one.”

“All constellations are made up, cub,” Twi replies with a cocky grin.

Wild wags his finger. “No, no, see, if they're in a book somewhere, it's official. It's science! Zelda told me so.”

Twilight rolls his eyes then leans back against the tiles of the roof. “Suuuure it is. Man, if only we had books in Ordon. Silly us.”

The warmth in his chest turns into gentle chuckles, and it's easy to lie back down, just close enough to brush his big brother's side.

He waits it out. It's hard enough to vocalize that he prefers not to take the initiative. It's a few more minutes of calm before Twi picks up on the hint.

“What is it about?”

“The usual.”

Fear. Failure. Disappointment. Guilt. The look in a stranger's eyes, the judgement and demands. That shrinking feeling that makes the air around him want to crush him paper thin. It's the usual. But this time, he can't help how the fear is strong, how the guilt strangles him. It's no wandering stranger, no fragment of his past berating him for things that happened in the great blank that was Link Before.

It's Time. The Old Man. Their Leader.

Twilight hums.

“Have I ever told you about the first time I met an Hylian soldier?”

No. For all they talk and are at ease, unless Wild asks, Twilight doesn't volunteer too much of his past. He's aware Twilight doesn't want to burden him, thinks he has too much on his plate. It's irritating, most times. So he cannot help feel a little eager even when he shakes his head.

Twilight's corner smirk feels a little sheepish. “Didn't think so? Ain't my proudest moment.”

“You? Having done anything you are not proud of? But aren't you the perfect, dutiful hero who knows when it's proper to scout and not?”

“Go swallow a bokoblin gut risotto.”

Wild rolls his eyes at the mention of the we-promised-not-to-mention-that-experiment dish. “I'll make you a portion.”

Twilight suddenly looks a little pensive. “... Think we could trick Fancy into trying it?”

Wild smirks. “There, your hidden fae side. The others never believe me when I mention it.”

“Balance, young hero.”

“Right. Story time!” Wild claps his hands. “So, your first time meeting a Hylian soldier?”

It sobers Twi right up. “... T'was at the start of my journey. Right after the point of no-return. The children of my village were taken, my childhood friend kidnapped, and the adults in a panic. I rushed out of town, and well, got immediately captured and turned into a wolf.”

“... Nice start.”

The bonk on the head is worth it. It wasn't even painful. “Shush. I'm bleeding out and you mock me, you disrespectful child. Where was I? Oh, yeah, turned into a wolf, captured, imprisoned and left to rot in a dungeon.”

The air chills, and Wild finds the story a hell lot less funny. He can't even make a joke about putting a wolf in a cage. It'd be like sand on a wound.

“I met someone there, who helped me escape. Lemme tell you, Cub, dungeons aren't a great place to develop a much greater sense of smell. Honestly, I probably wasn't thinking straight for a bit. I just wanted out. Fresh air. Anything but the walls closing in on me...” – Wild feels the shudder against his body – “I was near the exit when I met him. A proud Hylian soldier of her majesty's army. Right there in the dungeon, left a mere spirit by the twilight's influence. And he... he was cowering in a corner... I hated him.”

There's something to the weight of it that strikes Wild at his core. The sort of darkness that Twi doesn't show, that nothing he does hint at. But even with that, the thing that comes to mind most is what the story means now.

“Wow... ” Wild starts, his voice brimming with forced awe. “You're about as subtle as a goat's kick to the nuts, Twi.”

Warriors and Legend have nothing on the absolutely, smug little smirk on Twilight's face. “Still bitter, aren't cha?”

Wild throws his arms in the air. “Fighting Ganon wasn't half as painful!”

“Well, I hate to say 'I told you so'...”

“Liar! You live for it!”

Twi chuckles. “Yeah. But come on, I told you to face the goats head on.”

“They've got massive horns!”

“And legs. Now you know why no one wrestles cattle from behind. Predators are the only ones that approach the hind legs, and yeah, they get the kicks too.” A more serious look flitter on Twilight's face. “Knew a man or two that died that way, back home. Just, one day, startled an animal and it kicked. Landed on the wrong spot. The wrong rib. The head. Don't mess around cattle, Cub.”

Wild winces. Far more somber than before, he nods for his brother's sake. It's not like he never saw the horses kick when he tried to tame them. Just that he was good at avoiding them even when he was thrown off. He wants to say he would never get killed in such a stupid way, but...

(It had stopped raining, but the rocks were still wet in the shadowed spots. He hadn't known until...)

(He'd woken up to Mipha's voice, and Wolfie's panicked barks and tears, and he'd promised – promised – to never be so careless again.)

“What happened with the soldier?” he asks, because now his mind is on ghosts, and he's never known his big brother to hate them.

Twilight, annoyingly, shrugs. “Well, I broke the curse of twilight on Castle Town, so he's probably just patrolling the street like any other guard.”

“... You didn't look? You never met him again? Not even when you walked back into Castle Town later? I thought you had to do a bunch of quests there?”

“No,” Twilight starts, then frowns a bit to himself. “Maybe?”

A groan builds up in the back of his throat. “Twiliiiiight...”

Said big dumb oaf pushes him, just hard enough for a stumble. “It's not like I got a good look at his face. Or...” He looks away, quieter. “That I had nothing else on my mind at the time. I'd... I'd just been turned into a wild animal and asked to help an imp with some grandiose task. I was running around dungeons, surrounded by ghoul rats, and... there it was, the first glimpse of hope I might have had.”

Wild gulps. He hates to imagine Twilight, Hylian or wolf, ragged, hurt, looking for help and finding...

“He was cowering. I was just a farmer, kidnapped, stolen from home and twisted into this new form. I needed help. And there was a soldier, who'd signed up for this, for the protection of Hyrule and its citizens... She called me naïve. Asked me if I really thought a light worlder could brave the twilight.”

She. Wild tries not to tick at the mention of that one. Does not ask her name, because he knows a wound when he hears one. He focuses on the dungeon. The dark and damp, the chains he recalls, and he places Wolfie there, scared, and it makes him burn with anger to have the first person his brother come across turn him away.

But Twilight's lips are twisted in a grimace, his eyes heavy as they take in the night over Lon Lon Ranch.

“He was scared. And I hated him. Was I really any better? A man who couldn't take a step in the twilight without passing out? When my bones rattled with the thoughts of those critters crawling all over my body again?”

“You pushed through,” Wild says, because Twilight had to have. Twilight won. Twilight went on his quest and he saved Hyrule. Twilight hadn't... he...

“Yeah. I went through Hyrule, and one by one, saved the Light Spirits, reforged the Mirror of Twilight, fought the Usurper and the King of Evil. And along the way, I picked up some allies, mourned the people I was too late for and embraced those I saved. But I didn't forget that man. When I saw the kids of my village, locked in a basement in fear of monsters, I remembered. And it was a little easier to forgive. When I reached Zora's domain and saw the hundreds frozen in ice, the ghost of the queen begging me to help her son... ”

His voice falters, becomes thick with emotion. And Wild can't help flash back to Muzu's accusation, to Sidon's sad smile when he mentions Mipha's gift to him. He hadn't thought...

There's something knowing in Twilight's eyes. “Gifted me a Zora armor and everything. Some things don't change, Cub.”

“They should,” he whispers, unable to keep the raw hurt from it.

Twi snakes an arm around him, and brings him close. “Aye, they ought to, but sometimes they don't. It's out of our hands. We don't get to make the world the goddesses put us in. Just what we do in it. Maybe I don't bow to the guards in my Hyrule, Cub, but I don't hate them either. They were men. Just that. I was wrong to hate them for something out of their control.”

Twilight really is as subtle as a goat's kick to the nuts.

Maybe it's his turn. Like a bomb in a shrine. Go off once, and watch the whole thing crumble.

“There was a Lon Lon Ranch in my Hyrule...” he starts, slow, with a sob building deep in his chest, “I found the ruins. You could make a beeline from it to Castle Town. But... it was overrun by guardians.”

The wood under him feels hot. Feels like it's burning, like it'll collapse any second now as a reminder that even when his fellow heroes build themselves a life, he'll be right there around the corner to ruin it all.

“It just... we're here now, and there are plenty of ruins in my era, but I never... I never met the owners, but Malon's so kind to us, and the Old Man trusts me, and I can't bear thinking of their disappointment when they learn-”

“Cub, if your next sentence includes any variation of the word 'failure', I will shove you off this roof.”

Wild blinks. His words peter out. He sees the absolute seriousness of Twilight's threat. Then, confidently, “You wouldn't. I could be injured.”

Twilight's glare goes deadpan. “I will shove you off that side” – he points to the other side of the roof – “where we shoveled the cow manure. It won't hurt. Even if you land head first.”

That threat is a great deal more plausible.

There is silence, some variation that hints at the snores of the cows and horses in the barn below, that suggests the song of crickets and buzzing fairies by the grass, the stern, patient glare that only grows sharper every second it lasts.

Then, slowly, Wild scoots away from his big brother.

“Wild!” Twilight harshly calls.

“I'm sorry!” Wild yelps, taking off and running around the chimney to put something between them.

“Don't apologize! It wasn't your fault!”

They circle the chimney, feinting left and right.

“I was the Chosen Hero! I trained for the Calamity my entire life!”

“You had an entire country's worth of people helping! How can it be your fault alone? They dug those machines up, they armed themselves with weapons that Ganon had already faced! None of your people saw it coming, but you still fought to your death, even after everyone else had passed! Why is it your fault?!”

“Then why did everyone blame me?” he breaks, and he feels the low, background pain suddenly rush at the front of his mind. Every little sneer, every snide comment, every moment he pulled down his hood just to avoid recognition...

“They were wrong! All of them! The whole fucking country!” Twilight growls back. “They put Hyrule's destruction on your hands, when it was Ganon. Half of them weren't even alive when it happened. They had no right to blame you! If they wanted the world to be better, they should have made it better themselves! And if they couldn't, they didn't have the right to blame the only person that was still trying!”

His knees shake. He needs to grab onto the chimney's edge to stay upright. The want in his heart hurt so much. He feels his whole being lean into Twilight's words, scream at him to believe, to push past the memories and remember only the good, the smiling greetings, the cheers, the wedding, the sight of Zelda finally, finally freed from her battle to protect Hyrule. “Twilight,” he croaks. “Why didn't you... why did you stay? You knew... I'd died. I was a clueless, directionless, scattered-brain idiot! I'd done nothing to be worth your help. I was just like that guard. Why didn't you… Why don't you hate me?”

The hand that grabs his wrist closes with a steel grip. The shock jumbles his self-loathing enough that he glances up, and meets the fiercest blue he's ever seen. “Look me in the eyes and say you think I  can  hate you.”

It's like getting sucker punched. All the air in his lungs leave. Even though his panicked, overworking brain screams that yes, yes he could, hadn't he just told him all about him hating the failure of Hyrule's army? But he can't levy that knowledge against everything he knows now. He can't even make it counterweight the idea that, maybe, being steady now meant he found his balance before. It's all meaningless noise in the end. Wild just needs one look at Twilight, and even his worst insecurities relent.

“It's different! You're you,” he says, helplessly gesturing to all of Twilight. Like that's supposed to explain everything. “And-”

“And Time's Time,” Twilight completes. “Malon's Malon. Need I go on?”

“It's not the same!”

“Fine!”

Twilight gives him The Look. Not his imitation of Time's disappointed Look. But his patented I-will-outstubborn-you-and-the-goddesses-themselves Look. Wild is intimately aware that none of his companions have seen it as frequently as him. They haven't learned to fear it yet even though they should. They really, really should.

(Twi wrestles goats taller than him for fun. He wrestles gorons for fun. Wild himself knows better than to try that stunt after Daruk! Twi's insane and no one else has noticed!)

Teeth grind together, and there's the bitten out words that push him off balance.

“There is no Lon Lon Ranch in my Hyrule. Is that my fault? Should I get down on my knees before the Old Man and beg for forgiveness?”

Wild's reply dies in his throat, a strangled croak.

That can't be right.

He knows that Twilight's before him and after Time. Twilight's said so, the records existed about both of them, the order they were in, and Twilight so obviously knew the Old Man before this started...

But... Twilight had never mentioned the Lon Lon Ranch before. Part of him had been assuming... Except, no, it's always been about Ordon, the province of Hyrule from which he hails, the farmer village and the ranch on which he herds his precious, dumbass goats.

There's no Ordon either, Wild realizes with a strangle grasp of guilt. What part of his predecessors did he not ruin?

A hand cuffs the back of his head, and the shock of pain is just enough to get him to stick his tongue out. Twilight, in response, raises an eyebrow like he can read his thoughts. He probably can though, given how much practice he has.

“Ordon's gone by the time of your era, Cub. Renamed and probably rebuilt differently. I wouldn't recognize it if I walked the land myself. Don't try and shoulder that.”

But what else is he supposed to do about it?

“Let it be.”

But the lost-

Twilight hooks an arm around Wild's neck, and pulls him close. “Don't try to hold on to long gone dreams. Not everything's meant to last forever, Cub.”

Wild averts his gaze, who is suddenly so heavy he can only look down. Can only blink away the beginning of tears. He knows. He knows that nothing lasts forever, even this quest, but... why can't anyone stay a little while longer?

Twilight's voice softens, low and rumbling like Wolfie's noises. “We'll have to go our own way. We ain't nobodies. We're the Heroes of Courage. There's always gonna be someone in need of us in our own times. But you won't be alone. There's your Zelda, and your new Champions. Sidon'd love to cheer you up. And Farore knows Yunobo would need your delicate touch to get him out of his shell.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Did I tell you about that time Zelda asked him to test a new model of cannons?”

Twi snorts, and the two of them manage to sit back down, lean against the chimney. His thoughts drift away from the memories of the ruined ranch, when time passes them by and a shooting star twinkles above.

“Farore's tear,” Twi points, “say a prayer.”

Wild indulges, though it goes toward Hylia. Quickly enough, he opens his eyes again, and shoots his big lump of a brother a look. “What will you do? Once we defeat whoever's behind our warping?”

“Well, probably try and avoid Zelda,” he says, sheepish, one finger scratching his cheek.

His bafflement is written all over his face, Wild knows, but he still needs to ask, in the flattest voice possible, “What?”

“My Queen and I ain't... It's more of a knightly what's it called. Fancy would know. Ah, whatever, call it what it is: respect, trust. And I know she will insist on a report. She's no fool, that one. Knows I wouldn't go off gallivanting for weeks and months on end for no reason. And she's not fond of being left in the dark. But I'll be darned if I ain't making a bee line for Ordon once this is over. I... I want to hug Colin, share an ale with Rusl and Uli, learn which of Lumi's firsts I missed, which I'll have to make up for the little lass.”

Lumi, Twilight's youngest adopted sibling. Few years old. Probably spoiled rotten the way Twi talks about her. In his mind, he pictures... a little brunette, tugging at Twilight's legs to be spun around and get piggyback rides. Maybe picking even a small stick, to play fight like her giant brother.

And Twilight would turn around, to ask Warriors to help train their little fighter and... blink at nothing. Shrug. That's what Wild's afraid of. The day he'll wake up and find he only needs to make breakfast for one instead of nine. That the others will move on and he will have to build yet another place for himself.

He hums, not wanting his voice to betray him.

“Home's where you make it, Cub.” Gentle fingers brush Wild's hair. He melts into the touch. “Sounds hypocritical when I'm the one who's always had a stable place, but even on my journey, especially near the end, I was home too. Home was a campfire and a princess with wits sharper than my sword and hair shifting like flames. It was the quiet of a cold night in the desert with lizards roasting over crackling embers. Back then, I was as happy as a goat in pasture. It never felt like it would end.”

A haunted shadow passes in Twilight's gaze.

“But it did,” he whispers. “It did, and now we're here, a new adventure, a new home for us.”

Wild hates the pain in his brother's voice. Hates that he sees his own hurt reflected, and a selfish part of him is even glad. It feels like love, this understanding. “I'll miss you,” he says, the only thing that can convey just how much he dreads the future.

“And I'll miss you too, you wild cub. No matter what insane scheme you cook up in that brain of yours, I'll miss every second of it.” Then he pulls back. “Also, don't be daft, you paid nearly five thousand rupees for that house in Hateno and chopped I don't know how many trees, you ain't just throwing that away on a whim, Cub. Sell it if you want to move.”

The non-sequitur throws him off. “I'm not!” Wild stammers, blushing. “Bolson would freak if I let it go to ruin a second time! And I still have to show Zelda around the place too.” The snicker makes him look down, grumble. “Mother cucco.”

“Good,” – the hand is rougher, no less affectionate, when it scrambles his fringe – “some sense at long last! There's hope for the future!”

Hope. Maybe Twi's not just a stupid farmer hunk. Maybe he should give that a try.

Wild's grin is a small, hopeful thing. “Who knows? Maybe we'll get to go on a third adventure together.”

He's heard a few curses about the goddesses from the others before, but he knows Hylia can't be  too cruel if she sent Twilight his way. He'll never admit it in front of witnesses, but, at the very beginning, he needed someone to watch over him. Though, Wild thinks with a bit of irritation, only at the beginning. He learns quickly. And it was mostly... the loneliness afterward.

Twilight sighs, wistful and despairing, and teasing. “That'd be something. More months of babysitting.”

Wild, despite himself, rises to the bait. “Excuse me. Which one of us attracted the wrong attention and got chased through Hyrule Fields?”

Instead of the sheepish, boyish grimace Wild was expecting, Twilight's mouth split open in a wide shit-eating grin. “You were overthinking it.”

“O-overthinking...? Wait. You did that on purpose?! There were three guardians! We nearly died!”

“Nearly never counts, young hero.”

“I broke twelve weapons!”

“You were overburdened. It would have slowed you down.” Twilight waits the right amount of heartbeat in incredulous silence, then adds: “Also, you had spent twenty minutes trying to decide whether or not you should replace your broadsword with that flaming flamberge. After that fight, you had plenty of space in your inventory. No need to hunt some Farore-damned koroks.”

Wild stares, his jaw hanging. The world just backflipped and landed flat on its face. Twilight... he what?!

“Hylia, I changed my mind. Don't reunite us past this. He'd lead me to my death.”

Twilight eventually recovers from his bellows of laughter. But the grin that remains has an edge of fangs to it, something impish that reminds him of Time's cryptic comments and Wind's mischief. “I would not. But in the event that we do die an inglorious death, the others will assume it was your fault anyway.”

Wild sputters. “W-what? No, I'd describe in excruciating details how you, big lump of a wolf, just ran straight at monsters with no plan!”

“Who would they believe between us? The wild, mannerless pyromaniac that's constantly pulling death defying stunts? Or the dutiful, dull farmhand that's always trying to reign him in? Just imagine the scene.”

Wild does. The image comes to him unbidden, of some sort of white featureless plain full of fog and the spirits of his brothers-in-arms, where they both just materialize there, singed by the fatal explosion of some guardian's laser.

He wouldn't even get a chance to speak.

They'd all just send him various flat looks and pat Twilight on the back, calling it a good run. It was bound to happen eventually. And Twilight, the ass, would soak it all up as if it was earned and not his plan in the first place!

He needs to sit down. “Holy shit, you're worse than Ganon.”

Twilight offers him a bottle of Lon Lon milk. Likely poisoned, he thinks, after that revelation. He sips some of it anyway. It's good milk.

“Wild, you can't even fathom the depths of my mercy.”

See, someone who could make 'mercy' sound ominous had no right to complain about being called evil.

“You're scaring me.”

Twilight's legs swing over the edges of the rooftop. “Good, because it seems you haven't realized how much blackmail I sit on. Months, Cub. Months and months of travels with no one to tell you no. Every embarrassing thing you've ever done, I was a witness to.”

It's probably a bit sad that Wild can't even narrow it down to a handful of incidents.

“But I haven't destroyed you yet, Cub.”

Wild fights the full body shiver that crawls down his spine. “Don't think I won't bring you down with me! I have pictures! Ah! Who will they believe now?”

“Me,” Twilight replies flatly.

He hates that this one simple word deflates his hard-earned comeback. “I hate you so much, Twi.”

“Aw, I love you too, little brother.” The arm that hooks around his neck is none too gentle. “So stop jumping over fucking lava!”

“No, I'm a free spirit! And I won't listen to your evil whispers anymore!”

With practiced ease, Wild ducks under the moblin arm trying to strangle him and slips by the edge of the rooftop. A kick pushes him forward, and he backflips just to strut over Twilight's lumbersome build, and lands in the pile of hay. Twilight has barely the time to shoot a warning 'Oy! Get back here!' that Wild sprints away into the darkness. The tearing, blockish sound of Twilight's teleportation rings behind him, and he doubles his speed. Dumb wolves can't climb over the fences or the cliffsides that surround the ranch.

He's halfway around the track when he realizes that his chest no longer pangs with the echoes of guilt. And the first thought that comes to mind is 'that conniving goat-lover!'

 ***

 Three days later, after a trek through Sky's forests, Four is the one that speaks the thing that's on all their mind.

“So... anyone else is wondering why Wild is so unusually well-behaved?” he says once Wild is out of earshot, having left with Sky to wash down dishes in a nearby stream.

Wind nods heavily as others voice their assent. Hyrule, in particular, looks a little put off since being told 'no' to exploring the region yesterday. The fact that it had been said through gritted teeth had confused him a little, but he hadn't managed to find out the reason. Wild had just asked the others to witness how he was being a 'respectable hero that follows rules, remember that'.

Legend and Warriors, though, don't seem too concerned. Counting their good fortune maybe. They do, however, make a bet about it. “Better that than moping around,” Legend snarks.

“Don't be mean,” Hyrule says, chastising. “Though I guess I'm glad he's feeling better.”

Time, wordlessly, glances at Twilight, who may or may not be staying in the background, leaning against a tree with the face of a wolf left alone to watch over three defenseless and tasty lambs. The expression does not waver at his mentor's silent question. Far from it.

“Spite, reverse psychology and some long term planning,” Twilight drawls.

That sends a shiver down their spine.

[madamhatter]

If you're still doing the ship meme consider: lilia/sophie for the cursed parent duo

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you... | accepting

Who asks the other on dates:

What first began as the headmaster’s order to protect and monitor the magicless other-worlder spiraled the transfer student down a rabbit hole of nonsense. There wasn’t any doubt MC caught the interest of many students. Most were eagerly wanting to approach and some were willing to ignore boundaries. Persistent to keep students away, and holding back the urge to practically toss them through an open window, Sophie was never too far from the first year.

Unfortunately, those that were also interested included the Diasomnia dormitory. With the newly budded friendship between MC and ‘tsunotarou,’ there has been a new presence entering both her and MC’s lives.  It was the vice head of the Diasomnia dorm, who was as ready to take on the ‘new child,  which Sophie will dare not allow.

What is now a one-sided rivalry to protect MC has now become a point of interest and entertainment for the vice head, Lilia. Adamant and far too tired at her age, Sophie is resistant to the ongoing shenanigans provided by the vampiric fae and his decisiveness to repeatedly vex her. Lilia, though, takes the steps to further bother her by making radical claims and asking her out for the ‘children’s sake.’

Sophie’s not one bit happy.

Who is the bigger cuddler:

Neither of them is remarkably touchy with another, at first. Lilia genuinely backs off when bugging Sophie in her Simeon disguise when she badly reacts to touch. Sophie is keeping her distance to respect boundaries and also to wave off any suspicions. Though, it would usually be Lilia that is rather greedy, wanting touch and will take any chance he has once they’re closer. Sophie begrudgingly handles it as she’s already slighter taller than him and it is remarkably hard to peel off the fae.

Who initiates holding hands more often:

Lilia has occasionally tried it. Not always when he sees her, but he likes to weigh in what times would be the most effective against her to get reactions. Sophie’s the type who would raise her hands over her head whenever he tries to reach out and she walks away like ‘don’t try it.’  Which, he does, as he can levitate.

Who remembers anniversaries:

Both, for different reasons.

Sophie is evermore on top of schedules and preparation, being the few forms of orderliness existing in the Night Raven College’s staff ensemble.  Usually, her planner is on her person, and the calendars in her room and office are always filled with events and important dates (holidays, birthdays, meetings, etc.)

Lilia, knowing how uppity she is in organizing, throws her dates to remember. Blame his old age, he reasons, while he is insistent that she write down a particular. She inquires why, to which he immediately frowns at. That alone is suspicious to the Hatter and her suspicions are confirmed, as with his dramatics, he asks ‘how couldn’t you remember our anniversary?!’

Who is more possessive:

Faes are generally creatures that more on their moral codes and balances that greatly differ from humans (and are usually detrimental to humans, no matter which court they’re a part of). One’s pleasures and tolerances vary per fae, which includes their type and status and place of origin. Yet, there is always the element of protectiveness on what they consider their own.

Lilia is definitely the one who acts more to keep people in order and keeps an eye on Sophie if the relationship develops. He isn’t outright possessive to others, as much as they can see, and has his own unique tactics to draw others away, or to keep Sophie aware that he’s quite serious about his words later down the line. The lengths he’d go, well, there are certain tricks he’s learned over the years and wouldn’t mind implementing.

Who gets more jealous:

Jealousy was remarkably a human trait that Lilia never was trifled with. The emotion is hollow and unnatural in his existence and the confidence he exudes deflects any chance of feeling intimdated or nervous about any ‘competition.’ Surely, he had a human partner or two, maybe they dealt with jealousy. He amassed popularity and history with countless others as a former ‘lord’ from the Valley of Thorns. It amused him, but he has his limits. 

On the other side of the spectrum is Sophie, the most jealous person who doesn’t usually realize it most of the time. It is one of her many faults to have her vision tainted green and her spitefulness boiling internally, only reserving her spats and retorts only when in her foulest moods. Her confidence only exists ‘six feet under,’ according to her, and she can find herself anxious and feeling incompetent. She doesn’t admit it, but Lilia feels it.

Who is more protective:

Both. It is more often than not that Lilia finds himself picked up suddenly by Sophie if someone is getting way too close. He is stunted, partially insulted, by the implications that she believes he can’t defend himself, which is far from the truth and she knows better. Though, he enjoys it if she does it out of fear and believes in they’re in trouble. 

Sophie is more open in conversations, nonchalantly telling Lilia about what she goes through and hears. He speaks cryptically, not mentioning exactly what he’s going to do, but he’ll handle it. It isn’t as if he speaks directly after what she says too. He has very, very low tolerance for those messing with his loved ones and can put people in place in fights, with or without magic.

Who is more likely to cheat:

Neither. Though, Lilia claims that Sophie has before anything in their relationship started. It’s more of a short-lived joke that she “tried” to date one of their peers. After the reaction she gave him, that joke quickly died and it was never brought up again. 

Who initiates sexy times the most:

Lilia is the more proacative one that makes referenecs and flirtations in her direction. Some of them mostly go over her head, she acts unimpressed/unmoving, and the rare one affects her. However, Sophie is the one who solidifies those advancements way down the line as he keeps on mentioning them. There is a fae who is very happy that she is comfortable with being open about herself -- which gets him rambling a bit before she has to shut him up.

Who dislikes PDA the most:

Sophie loathes it and Lilia cannot even understand why! How could she not love the way he talks about his absolutely stunning wife with credible evidence of the numerous photos on his phone where she’s sleeping or glaring at him or actually doing something adorable? How could she not admire how he claims her as his own and never lets anyone forget how blessed he is to have someone like that in her life? Does she not hear the way he speaks of her and the countless stories of how cute her yelps are when she fails to pay attention and he scares her? Does she not consider that embracing her in public or make large gestures to her whenever she passes are staples of their newly founded relationship? 

Lilia huffs and throws himself in a chair, playing the part of finding Sophie unreasonable for her reactions. Though, this is just all play for him. He’s very much aware and used to how much more intimate Sophie is privately -- even if his antics might cost him TLC some nights if he goes too far. 

Who kills the spider:

Lilia, technically. He has his minions eat the spiders and other bugs around him, while Sophie rushes to save the small house spider and escorts it outside. He doesn’t understand her insistence, but enjoys the good exercise she gives his bats as she runs back and forth. 

Who asks the other to marry them:

Lilia has made it habit to refer to Sophie with insufferable pet names that would include ‘wife,’ if he’s feeling extra cheeky. Though, he does sprinkle in genuine names like ‘dear’ (something which she uses too) and ‘beloved.’  But, there’s some legitimacy to the nicknames when he actually has the consideration and point that he wants to propose. 

Who buys the other flowers or gifts:

Lilia is more than happy to gift anything he finds suitable for Sophie and is not shy to give to her in person. He’s a powerful and famous fae, there is no way he doesn’t have any money and he probably has a little too much that he can waste. As Sophie whines about how much there are and how much space she doesn’t have in her room for all these gifts, it only fuels him to get more. 

Sophie as well gives gifts, but they’re all handmade. She leaves them at the front of the door (or Silver is the one who deliver it to his dad). Lilia has yet to catch her (or, really, let his presence be known) and is all too humored about how terribly shy she is. Is she really that nervous about being caught gifting him something? Ahh, young love, and he’s respnsible for it. 

Who would bring up possibly having kids:

They already have kids and they haven’t stopped adopting random students into their little makeshift family and nobody can stop them. Hell, Lilia went the extra step and now Sophie’s caring for a young bat she named Yasha. 

For any actual serious consideration for children, it would be Sophie bringing it up after she graduates from the NRC. Lilia boasts that he’s already thought of how the children would look and, honestly, he’s talking out of his ass but it gets Sophie flustered as she believes him. 

Who is more nervous to meet the parents:

Neither. It is quite an odd predicament when you’ve both technically met the other’s family while on campus. Considering Lilia raised two out of the three Diasomnia students, he’s pretty much the parent someone’s going to meet. Llila’s parents might be around, but he has lost touch with them and fondly recounts them and still believess they’re alive. Sophie is rather nervous at the prospect, but he tells her not to worry about it.

On the opposite end, Lilia is quite literally waiting to meet Sophie’s family once she regains her all of her memories and reunites with her sisters and mother. He doesn’t ask immediately to see them and waits a bit after the reunion about meeting them.

Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:

As the only one who really needs (a lot of) sleep, Sophie is the one who will go lay on the couch if things get too stressful/heated. Lilia isn’t the type to force someone out of the bedroom. He will be curt and rough, his emotions clearly visible, but he will not deny her place in their bed. 

Who tries to make up first after arguments:

Both! They have their own workarounds and it usually takes Sophie longer than Lilia to approach and start the make-up process. He tells her that she shouldn’t waste as much time holding onto the argument as she’s a mortal and has limited and precious time in her hands. 

Who tells the other they love them more often:

Lilia has been saying it since day one in his own unique way that was both mocking and joking. Though, it would soon be that Lilia says it sincerely and claims that ever since the day they met, he knew this was coming and said it....before he laughs altogether at that poor joke. Sophie, tells him many and only begun saying when the feelings were sincere and developing.. which means she is definitely leads ahead of him in this department and he definitely loves hearing it. 

[kirkwall-on-fire-blog]

In-Character Interview

Rules:

1. Choose a character

2. Answer as them

3. Tag 5 people!

I consider myself tagged by @allisondraste because yes.

I will probably be returning to this later on because, honestly... I have too many OCs and love to talk about them all.

I’ll tag: Uhhhhhh I don’t actually know how tagging works?? (RIP me). An also I feel like I’m so late to this that everyone has done this already, so... I’ll tag whoever wants to be tagged! Because honestly that’s how I ended up doing this so might as well, right? Spread the OC love! <3

Elisse Cousland is up first~!

What is your name?

"Elissora Eleanor Valerie Margaret Cousland! Or, um, Elisse for short. Yes, Elisse will do just fine! Honestly...”

Do you know why you are named that?

"Father had a penchant for overly long and complicated names, I suppose? I do notknow, to be honest. Fergus likes to tease that he, Aedan, and I were all named this way so our first initials spell FAE, but... That cannot be true, right? Right?”

Are you single or taken?

"Umm both? Maybe? I am uncertain. It’s... a tad strange, being in a relationship with a spirit-- Ah, former spirit, sorry Cole! Still, I would not trade him for the world. Whatever the state of our relationship, I am quite content with it.”

Have any abilities or powers?

"I can shoot really well! It’s funny, I picked up a bow after the whole ordeal with Arl Howe because it reminded me of Mother, but after a while I felt... empowered? Yes, that is the word. It feels good to be able to protect yourself for a change, and protect others, too. I will not be a child in need of a rescue again.”

Stop being a Mary Sue!

"Why, I would never! What has Mary done to you, anyhow!? You leave her alone this instant! If you have a bone to pick with me, that is one matter, but I will not have you dragging some poor girl’s name through the mud! Humph!”

What’s your eye color?

"Blue. Mother used to say that mine looked like a calm midsummer lake, while Aedan’s looked like ice. ...Fergus has brown eyes. Teehee.”

How about your hair color?

"Hazel brown, thank you very much! All Couslands are brunettes, though I happen to have the lightest shade of hair between my siblings. Too much time spent in the sun, Mother used to say.”

Have any family members?

"Plenty! Is... what I would like to say, but at this point... It’s just Fergus and me. He’s doing rather well with his new wife, so maybe there will be more little Couslands running around soon? It would be lovely to hear children’s laughter in the old castle.”

How about pets?

"Leo offered to give me Aedan’s old Mabari, Pup, but somehow that doesn’t feel right. He chose her as his new master, you know? I wouldn’t want to break that bond. But she did promise me a puppy as soon as the new litter is born, so hopefully someday soon!”

That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

"Tight spaces. Dungeons. Fire... Those things bring back some bad memories. I’m sorry.

Also, Queen Anora. I really, really hate Anora. Humph.”

Do you have any hobbies/activities that you like to do?

"I practice my archery skills quite often. Sometimes Sera and Varric join me, and Mahariel showed me a few neat tricks that one time. Other than that... Pulling pranks with Sera is quite a bit of fun, though it does get us into trouble a lot... I spend much of the remaining time in the infirmary. I may not have magic, but my first aid skills have improved considerably since I joined the Inquisition.”

Have you ever hurt anyone in anyway before?

"I... hope not. I’ve tried my very best to leave no reason for anyone to be upset with me, and yet... I am certain there is someone, somewhere, who was hurt by something I - or the Inquisition - have hurt. Inquisitor Adaar says it’s unavoidable, but still, it’s not a pleasant thought.”

Ever…killed anyone before?

"Yes. Out of necessity only, and never out of selfishness or greed. I will not allow myself to sink to the level of Howe and his men.”

What kind of animal are you?

"A hawk. Aim far, strike fast, spread your wings and fly away from things that hurt you.”

Name your worst habits.

"I, uh, may stick my nose where it does not belong... I just can’t help it! What if someone is hurting and I don’t know about it? What if someone is upset at me!?”

Do you look up to anyone at all?

"Oh, plenty of people, of course. I am still young, still inexperienced, and thus I have much to learn from people greater than me. My parents and my brothers were my greatest source of inspiration growing up - and still are, in many ways. Warden-Commander Amell is another, and so is Inquisitor Adaar, and the Hawke twins, and Lady Vivienne, and Dorian, and... Oh, but I’m rambling, am I not. Sorry.”

Are you straight, gay, or bisexual?

"Neither. I am proudly asexual, thank you very much. After everything that happened to me in Howe’s dungeon... I think I would prefer to relationships of the mind and soul, and not the body.”

Did you attend school?

"When I was a girl, I was taught by Aldous, the old historian in my parents’ employ. After the Blight, Cousland sent me on an exchange program to a girls’ school in Orlais. The education was... decent, but the company rather horrid. They thought me strange when I refused to wear a mask and went out to practice my archery! Hmph! Stuck-up aristocrats!”

Ever want to marry and have kids some day?

"That’s... I know it’s expected, me being a noble and all, and if Fergus cannot produce an heir then it will be up to me to fill that role, but... I would rather not. Have kids, that is. At least not at this time. There is too much turmoil in the world, and I would not want my children to suffer the way my brothers and I did simply because the world is not a kind place. As for marriage... Maybe, someday. I admit, the thought of walking down the aisle in a while gown does make my stomach fill with butterflies...”

Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

"Do supporters of the Inquisition count? I know those are not strictly mine - if anything, they cheer most for Inquisitor Adaar and Felandris - but still. I have received several offers of marriage recently, but those hardly count, no?”

What are you most afraid of?

"Sometimes I think that this is all a dream. That one day I will open my eyes and I’m a little girl again, alone in Howe’s dungeon. Except this time, Leo doesn’t come barging in through the door to rescue me, and my brother doesn’t kill the Archdemon, and I will just die in that dungeon, without anyone ever knowing where I am or what became of me...”

What do you usually wear?

"If there is anything good about Orlais, it’s their scout uniform. It’s so sleek and yet so practical!”

What is one food that tempts you?

"I would die for just one more taste of Nan’s home-cooked pig roast. No one makes it quite like she used to.”

Am I annoying you?

“No, of course not! What would make you think such a thing?”

Well it’s still not over!

"I’m ready and willing to answer all your questions!”

What class are you (low/middle/high)?

"Technically, the second highest after the King and Queen. The Cousland family is quite renowned, and quite close to the Crown, after all. Especially after all Aedan did to save Ferelden from the Blight. We live in a castle, we have servants - all the typical assets of a noble family.

“But as for myself, I would like to think I can live a middle-class lifestyle quite well. I don’t much care for the fanfare and ceremony of the upper class. Especially the Orlesian upper class. Ugh.”

How many friends do you have?

"Good question... Does the entire Inquisition count? They are all such good people, and they have been so kind to me this entire while... And of course there’s Leo, and Alistair-- er, King Alistair, and all of Leo’s Warden recruits, and... even Teyrn Loghain, I suppose. Okay, I know he supported Howe and what he did to my family, but still... He died a hero. And that’s what counts. Aedan believed in him, I think, so I will too.”

What are your thoughts on pie?

"Mmm, pie... Oh, dear me, I didn’t mean to drool!”

Favorite drink?

“Lemonade! It’s so refreshing in the scorching heat of summer.”

What’s your favorite place?

"Back in the day, there was this tree in the back of Highever Castle. The branches up high were bent in a weird way, almost like shelves. I used to climb up there and watch the servants scurry around trying to find me for hours. Aedan was the only other person who knew about how I hid up there, and he used to sneak me snacks and random things to play with. It was almost a second room to me.

“Nowadays, I like to sit on the roof of Haven. Watching the Inquisition members from up there is just as entertaining. Aedan is gone, of course, but... Sera and Cole bring me snacks now.”

Are you interested in anyone?

"W-Well, I...! Maybe...? It’s... quite complicated, but... A-Ahem, might we change the topic, please?”

That was a stupid question…

"Aww, don’t feel bad! It was a cute question! i’m just... not good with being caught off-guard, you know?”

Would you rather swim in the lake or an ocean?

"A lake. I’ve done so quite a few times when visiting Redcliffe, too! The ocean, on the other hand, looks quite terrifying, and far too deep for me to ever hope to find a foothold. What if it carries me off? I am quite fit, but not to the point of being able to swim for days!”

What’s your type?

"The slim kind with feathers at the tip to silence its movement through the air! You look confused. We are talking about types of arrow, aren’t we?”

Any fetishes?

"Nope. End of topic.”

Camping or outdoors?

"What fun! I can run around outside for hours! Or, at least, until I trip over something, or a branch whacks me in the face... But I do love to camp.”

[desiderium-eden-a]

@akumanoken​:

.....I'm so in love.....with that au idea

@kapisola​:

I'm gonna need more on that fairytale AU, stat. It's for my health, Suzu, do you want me to be healthy? 

Pfft. Well, I do want you to be healthy.

Marchen (Fairy Tale AU)

I imagine this AU takes place in a fantasy continent of Istoriya, made of smaller kingdoms. I only have 3 kingdoms so far. The underwater mermaid kingdom of Meer. The fairy realm of Obrynes. And Albtraum, kingdom of the beast shifters.

Ruled by the Von Friedhof family, the ageless though not immortal residents of Albtraum possessed the ability to transform into animal forms (and half shifted forms as well), noble families possessing some level of magic. With Mikhail able to turn into a panther. Dmitri a stag. And Lazuli a wood thrush. They were a strong, but peaceful race. Generally kept to themselves and stuff. Though there were tensions with Obrynes due to past conflicts and prejudices.

Until Mikhail had caught the attention of a fairy of the high court, wanting him as part of his collection. But neither Mikhail nor his family would allow that to happen. And to add insult to injury, the family did not invite him to the Christening of the newborn Noah. Insulted, the fae planned the kingdom’s downfall.

First, by ordering a band of fairies to kidnap Noah. They were found not even a few days later, with even the king and queen themselves searching. However, due to being a newborn, and with the kidnappers not making any of the necessary accommodations, Noah died of exposure.

The two slaughtered the band right then and there.

Obrynes saw this as a savage attack on their kingdom. As an example of the feral and monstrous natures of the Albtraum. They sent their condolences for the loss of the prince, but argued that there were more civil ways to handle it. Their arguments proved hypocritical though, as even with Dominic and Melua offering their own heads as atonement, the fae still moved to destroy their kingdom.

Curses were placed on the royal children. By the very man who started it all. For Dmitri who had argued that Mikhail’s place was in his home, a curse of flames that would burn him if he’d ever come home. For Lazuli who’d said they would die for their loved ones, a curse to always die at the hands of those very loved ones. And for Mikhail, as proud and arrogant as he was, to be reduced to a mindless beast with each full moon. To become a monster, even to his own people.

To make matters worse, word of the events passed around, stirring up fear in surrounding nations. And believing the Albtraum to be a power to be feared, they launched a war. A short lived affair that saw the annihilation of the kingdom of beasts. Survivors were sold into slavery. The land was split among the victors. But what was left of the royal family and nobles disappeared along with the castle.

For years afterwards, Mikhail tried his best to control himself. Helped by the magic and songs of his sister. However, one night the curse got the better of him, and he murdered her. And with her last breath, Lazuli cursed him. No matter how much he wanted to die, from loneliness or guilt, she would never allow him to die until he can make every flower in the gardens bloom.

This was centuries ago. With the current stories following the Von Friedhof family and their current situations.

Mikhail (The Beast / Big Bad Wolf)

Mikhail travels Istoriya within Einsam, the Albtraum castle that walks upon magically fueled mechanical legs, along with the survivors of noble families. Constantly moving in an attempt to prevent Dmitri from coming home and secretly wishing his brother settles down somewhere and is living happily.

With Einsam coated in a cloaking magic and protected via the thorns that grow around it, Mikhail is merely trying his best to live in obscurity. He hears that him and his castle are a myth to the current residents of Istoriya and he is fine with that. Occasionally, the residents of the castle try to sneak out and hunt humans or other creatures, but he rules over them with an iron fist. Not tolerating any needless murder so long as they want refuge here. Mikhail himself locks himself in his room during full moons.

Along his travels, he is trying to find a way to remove his family’s curses, or a way to revive Lazuli, whose corpse he keeps in the castle encased in a sealing magic. He is also trying to find a way to break her curse so he can die, driven by guilt and grief. But no matter what he tries, all the plants he brings into the garden dies almost immediately.

For a possible story, I imagine he once interacted with a child who nearly wandered into the Einsam when bringing food to their grandmother, wanting to pick some flowers. Mikhail, though hiding his identity, he scares the child off. Though does leave some flowers on their doorstep. Then years later, for whatever reason, the child, now grown, manages to get into the castle. Mikhail now has to hide and protect them, trying to pass them off as a beastman to trick the others.

Dmitri (Icarus/???)

Dmitri has been wandering all these years. Wanting to get home, even if it hurts him. Knowing that the castle moves, but not knowing where Mikhail is taking it, Dmitri has just been wandering aimlessly, hoping he’ll just accidentally stumble upon the castle one day. Meeting many different people and experiencing different things.

I don’t have too much of a story for him yet. But I do want him to pick up other travelers along the way. Maybe a first time adventurer or a veteran who he helped at one point. Someone who he met as a child but is now grown?

Maybe he gets captured and sold into slavery at one point? I’ll be able to figure out more when I get his fairy tale allusion down.

Lazuli (The Little Mermaid / Sleeping Beauty / Bluebeard’s Wife / Etc)

Lazuli has lived many lives in this time. Even being one of Bluebeard’s wives at one point. It never ends well though. With each life, her curse activates on her 15th birthday, which essentially turns people mad. The more people love her, romantic or platonic, the more they have an urge to harm or kill her. With each life she has died young at the hands of people who care about her. And while she never remembers her past lives, she does have dreams about them.

In this life, she was born a mermaid of Meer who befriends a witch (maybe a childhood friend?). Eventually, she falls for a human and begs the witch to help her gain legs. Not sure if they love her, but the witch would care about her. Enough so that they say they’ll do it for her voice, knowing how much she loves singing. So when she agrees, it’d be surprising. But nonetheless they do it.

Then the story continues the same for a while. Prince and her have a thing going on until he decides to marry someone else. Witch tells her she can live if she stabs the prince in the heart, but she says no.

Then there are 2 possible endings. Either they do nothing and she turns to sea foam, starting the cycle all over again. Or the witch goes to stab the prince in the heart. Lazuli wakes up to see herself still alive but she can’t find the witch. Maybe the witch finds out about the curse and is therefore avoiding her? Who knows. Either way she goes traveling to find her friend. Traveling as a singer because in her words, the witch loves her voice so there is no way they can resist coming to hear more.

With all three living their own stories, I do want them all to meet somehow, though not sure how. And then stuff happens. Maybe they try to find a way to remove the curse together. Maybe  Lazuli dies again, but this time they put her soul back in her original body? Shenanigans? Who knows?

Trivia about Marchen Verse:

Dmitri, Mikhail, Lazuli and Noah are all full siblings. With Dominic and Melua being all their parents.

Bird Lazuli has the same magic as her Imperial verse version, but mermaid Lazuli has no magic other than switching from mermaid to human forms at will.

Stag Dmitri gives best rides.

Cursed Mikhail’s beast form is not a straight up panther, but an oversized cat-like beast with wings, horns, tusks, a dual-snake tail, 2 *****, 4 eyes, hooves for the hind legs, clawed forelegs and breathes fire!

[rainbow-reilly]

Faeriefruit

By Claire-Louise Reilly  [originally posted to r/nosleep]

All the neighbourhood kids knew Ms. McKinley was a witch.

It was a playground truth whispered with such conviction and awe that you didn't dare think to question it. "Ms. McKinley—you know? The witch?"

Old ladies were supposed to be grandmothers and give out hard candies and sit inside knitting all day. Not live alone, in decrepit old cottages overgrown with ivy, with only the stray cats and crows for company.

And they were definitely not supposed to live in graveyards.

"Cemetery," my mother would correct me. "And she's not a witch, she's the groundskeeper. You wouldn't want anything to happen to granddad, would you?"

"Still weird to live beside a bunch of dead people," I'd mumble under my breath. Never mind our house was so close I could see the headstones from my bedroom window.

But kids never like the truth when the truth is too mundane. We wanted to believe that Ms. McKinley would dig up old bones to scry with—whatever scrying was. That any missing cats had ended up in her cauldron. That she'd eaten the last little boy who'd dared to wander through her garden.

That one especially sparked our imaginations. Every other kid claimed it was their cousin's friend's neighbour's brother, whose name always seemed to change with each new telling. Some days it was Jimmy, others it was Tom, and once I swore I heard he was called Harris. But one thin fact always stayed the same: he had gone into Ms. McKinley's garden and never come out again.

Perhaps it was that pretend touch of danger that tempted us to make a game out of going in.

It was Lizzie who suggested the idea. Lizzie wasn't exactly our leader—we didn't need a leader, and we weren't exactly friends. But there's only so many kids your own age within walking distance. Lizzie was one of them, and as the tallest and the loudest her ideas often ended up counting the most.

I, like an idiot, spoke up. "What if she catches us? We'll get in trouble."

Lizzie barked out a laugh. "What? You scared of the witch?"

"No! My mum said witches don't even exist," I spat back. I didn't believe her, but Lizzie didn't need to know that.

"Then you've got no reason not to go, right?"

I bit down on my cheek. Dammit, she'd tricked me. Either I was scared of a witch, or I was scared of a little old lady, and neither was an acceptable option. All I'd managed to do was get myself nominated.

"Fine, then."

The way I walked down the narrow road to Ms. McKinley's side of the graveyard, you'd think I was being led to my own execution. Nervous energy fizzled under my skin like lightning in a bottle, as I made myself sick imagining all the hundreds of millions of ways this could go horribly wrong. But it was too late to back out now. If there's one thing worse than a coward it's a cowardly quitter.

The cottage sat on the edge of grounds, just off the street and right beside the front gates. I suppose it was her duty to lock up at night—not that it'd do much good, the wrought iron would be easy enough for hoodlums and teens to scale. Liz gave us all a leg up and then pushed herself over in one go. From there, a thin short hedge was all that separated us from Ms. McKinley's garden.

It was a sprawl of overgrown grass, filled with wildflowers and weeds, Not that it wasn't well-tended to in its own way—she clearly liked to grow her own fruits and vegetables. My mouth glistened at the sight of strawberries, and I had to remind myself that food from a witch is probably poison.

Lizzie nudged me. "Dare you to grab one."

"Why?"

She cracked a toothy grin. "You want a trophy, don't you?"

I'd have been happy to get out of there with all my fingers and toes and skin still on my bones. But I nodded anyway. Whatever got Lizzie to shut up and get on with it.

The buzz of excitement faded away, as the group all held its breath in anticipation.

And then I was running.

Leaping across the hedge, catching my foot on the way down. My hands in the dirt pushing myself back up before I'd even finished stumbling. Every moment in here was another chance to get caught.

I darted across the grass, kicking up dandelions as I went. I needed to grab something. Not the strawberries, they were too close to the window. More chance to be seen, more chance to get eaten. Something else, something else—there. A bush of gleaming blood red berries in the far corner.

I sprinted towards them, arm outstretched, grabbed a fistful, and turned. I could see Lizzie and the others now, quietly cheering me on. I was so close, so close. My aching limbs loosened up with relief.

And then a shadow passed across the window.

I stopped dead.

Had she seen me? She had to have seen me. But if she saw me, why wasn't she coming out? She should be coming out—

"What are you doing? Hurry up!"

I was running again. Fumbling over the hedge, not stopping till I reached the wrought iron of the fence that marked freedom. I leaned against the flaking paint of the bars, beginning to feel the burn of a stitch in my side. The others crowded around me, howling and hollering, but it all seemed so faint when I could still hear my heartbeat hammering inside me.

Ms. McKinley had seen me, and I didn't know which possibility was worse.

A creepy old witch who could curse me.

Or a little old lady who could tell my parents.

-

We'd walked a little ways away from the graveyard before I made up some excuse about needing to head home. Instead, I circled back to the McKinley cottage. This time I came up the front path, dragging my feet like stone all the way. The door glided open before I even had a chance to knock.

I don't know what I expected when I saw Ms. McKinley. Of course I'd seen her before, but never up close. Never like a person. Her skin was creased like a well-loved book and she wore her hair rebelliously long and loose for a woman her age. She wasn't how I imagined her, or thought I'd imagine her, but as soon as the image settled in my mind I couldn't picture her any other way.

She looked down at me with cold, curious eyes, and any hope I had that she hadn't really seen me fizzled out like a candle. I didn't say anything. I just held out the clump of berries sheepishly. "Sorry," I muttered, wishing I could disappear into the neck of my too-warm jumper.

She plucked the clutch of berries from my hand and held them up to the light, inspecting them like a jewellery and diamonds. "Didn't think you'd come back," she said. She slipped the berries into her skirt pocket, before eyeing me up and down. "You're Philip's granddaughter, aren't you?"

I momentarily forgot my fear. "You knew granddad?"

Her face softened into an almost-smile. "Only a little. Good man; always tipped his cap whenever he came to see his wife. Your mother still brings him flowers every other month."

A pang of dread rattles around inside me at the mention of my mum. I stare down at my sneakers. "Are you gonna tell her?"

"Tell your...? Ha!" She starts laughing—a hearty rasp that reminds me of the cackle of a crow. "Girl, I was never gonna tell your parents. Gettin' sick off faeriefruit would have been punishment enough. But since you brought it back, I think we can call things even."

"Faeriefruit?"

"The berry." She patted her pocket indicatively. "Makes a person awfully sick if it's not properly prepared. You can't eat it off the bush, but it does make a tasty jam. I made a batch the other day, if you'd like to try some?"

I nodded automatically. Maybe out of politeness, maybe out of fear, I don't know. But that was all it took for her to lead me inside, through the hallway, into a cosy kitchen with gauzy curtains and mismatched cookery lining the walls.

This was the home of a witch?

I sat myself down at the table, continuing my in-depth analysis of Ms. McKinley's home decor, until a slice of sponge cake was placed in front of me. It was spread with juice red jam that threatened to trickle down the sides in thick, gleaming globs if not gobbled up fast enough.

Ms. McKinley took a seat opposite of me, folding her hands on the table expectantly. "Enjoy," she said.

I lifted up the cake, trying my best to keep my fingers away from the ever-sticky jam, and took a single cautious bite.

And then another. And another. Until the generous slice has disappeared entirely.

It tasted achingly sweet in my mouth. As smooth and rich as you imagine the wildest berry to be, as deliciously forbidden as sips of wine stolen on New Years. I already wanted more.

"You like that?" Ms. McKinley chuckled.

I nodded, licking away a swear of jam that'd spilled down my chin. A wave of self-consciousness ran across my skin as I tried to recompose myself. "So why's it called faeriefruit?"

It's a question that makes her eyes light up. She pulled the berries out her pocket, holding them out for me to see. "See the leaves?" I did. Each one had five gangly points, making it resemble a little person with a head and arms and legs. "Beware the men who grow from roots and never eat their faeriefruits."

"Umm...sorry?"

"Do you read much folklore?"

I gave a soft shrug. Maybe I had a copy of The Brothers Grimm under my bed somewhere, but that was about it.

"Well, in the old stories it's bad luck to eat the food of the fae. Faeries, that is. The humans that do usually end up getting trapped in faerieland or get eaten themselves. So when people discovered the strange berries that look like little people make you sick, they simply assumed it was a faerie curse."

I nodded along thoughtfully. It made enough sense. And then a thought spilled out of my sticky, jammed-up mouth before I could stop it.

"Do you know a lot about curses?"

She tilted her head to the side curiously. "Now what makes you say that?"

"You...I mean...it's not...nevermind, I..."

"Because you kids all think I'm a witch?"

I'm pinned to my seat. My face perfectly placid, while underneath I'm bubbling with fear. She stares down at me, an unreadable expression, until I realize she really is waiting for an answer.

"Well..." I manage to choke out, "Are you?"

And then she laughs. Long, and hard, and longer still, until even my relief turns tepid. "At least you're honest, girl," she finally says. "No, I don't ride a broomstick, or dance with the devil, or anything like that. I'm just a simple old woman who keeps to herself and her garden."

"And lives in a graveyard." I clamped my hand over my mouth a moment too late.

A coy smile worked its way onto the corner of her mouth. "That too."

"But don't you ever get creeped out?"

She gave her head a soft shake. "You know, your grandfather was a good man. It'd be strange to think any less of him just because he's in the ground.

I stared down at the table. I could feel an unpleasantly itchy pang of guilt crawl up through me. "Ms. McKinley, I'm sorry."

"You already said sorry once, girl. Don't say anything you mean more than once."

"No, not just for the berries. I'm sorry I thought you were a witch."

She smiled at me. "You come say hi whenever you like, dear. I could use the company. Keep your nose clean, and I promise I won't curse you." And then a wink at me.

I walked home that day a little brighter, a little bolder. And the sweet taste of faeriefruit still lingering in my mouth.

-

I wasn't scared of Ms. McKinley after that. If I saw her on our way to visit granddad's grave, I'd give a wave no matter how far away. On some slow days when there was no one to play with, I'd wander over to her cottage and sit in her kitchen a while, learning bits of folklore I'd never find in the books under my bed and happily eating faerierfruit cake.

She'd tell me more about faeries—real faeries, cruel faeries, not the dainty kind in flower petal dresses found on postcards. About their weakness for iron, the secrets of their names, the way they'd twist the truth into knots on their tongues to make up for the fact they can't lie.

"You'll never get a straight answer out of a fae," she said, once. "Always dodging questions. Sometimes the words you don't say are more important than the ones you do."

I enjoyed that. Little bits of knowledge, however pointless, that gave me more power. A new way to see the world.

The cake was nice, too.

But what soured the taste was the days I didn't see Ms. McKinley. When I slipped back into old patterns and found myself playing with my maybe-friends. She didn't come up all that much, but when she did I took note of every whisper and snicker and jeer wrapped around her name. She didn't deserve it. Any of it. Annoyance started to buzz under my skin like an ugly itch, and it didn't take long for me to scratch it.

It was a summery day when the hazy heat was making us bored and sluggish. It was Lizzie who started it, of course. It was always Lizzie. "We could see what mental old McKinley is up to. I heard Janine Davey's cat hasn't come home since—"

"Leave her alone, Liz."

She turned to me. "What?”

"She's not harming anyone. Let's just do something else—"

"Since when are you scared of the weird old witch?"

An indignant spark roared up inside me. "I'm not," I muttered."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are!"

"Not."

And then an idea snapped into my head. Behind it was a trickle of guilt, but it was easy to drown it out under all my anger and pride. "Fine," I said. "I'll prove it."

Without another word I turned and walked away. Down the narrow road to Ms. McKinley side of the graveyard, all the while vaguely aware the others were following bewilderedly behind. There was no hiding this time, no clambering over fences to avoid perfectly fine front gates. I walked right up the front path and knocked, the way I would if this were a visit on any other day.

As soon as I thumped my fist on the painted wood of the front door I heard the scuffle of scattering feet, the group rushing to seclude themselves in the safety of shadows and trees.

Ms. McKinley didn't seem surprised to see me. She never did.

For a moment, I felt that same flicker of guilt fizzle up inside me. Here I was, exploiting the unearned reputation I hated to make myself look better. But I couldn't let them call me a coward. Sorry, Ms. McKinley.

"Hello, dear," she said brightly. She peered over my shoulder curiously. "Are your friends not going to join us?"

"No." I didn't ask how she knew they were there. I simply slipped inside and let her close the door behind me.

A little while later I emerged from the cottage again, this time carrying a box of faeriefruit cakes. "For your friends," Ms. McKinley had said with a wink.

As soon as I was past the graveyard gate I was swarmed, the centre of a mass of grasping hands and awestruck eyes.

"You actually went in there!"

"What was it like?"

"Are you crazy?"

I tried to give my most casual shrug. I was already struggling to keep the proud grin off my face. There was nothing scary about what I'd done, but they didn't need to know that.

My eye caught Lizzie, leaning back against the fence and projecting to the whole world how much she didn't care. I stared up at her. "Told you I wasn't scared."

She looked at me all dark and stony, her eyes drifting down to the box. "What's that you got there?" As if she couldn't see through the clear plastic.

"Just some cakes from Ms. McKinley." I gestured to the rest of the group. "Want one?"

Lizzie scoffed. "How do you know they aren't poisoned?"

There was a murmur across the group. A battle between hesitation and temptation.

"Well..." I pried off the lid, reached in, and lifted one out to take a bite. "I've been eating plenty and I'm not dead, am I?"

That was enough of an invite. One sticky hand reached in and took a cake, followed by another, and another, until everyone but Lizzie had had a taste of faeriefruit.

"Liz?" I said, holding out the last one.

Her mouth was a tight, thin line as she eyed the cake. "What kind is it, anyway?"

"Faeriefruit. She grows the berries that make the jam herself."

"And you think I wanna eat witchy food?"

"Fine." I shoved it in my mouth before she had a chance to change her mind. She rolled her eyes and walked away, hands in pockets, but for a second I thought I saw a twitch of regret on the corners of her mouth.

-

"So," Ms. McKinley said, setting down two cups on the table. Tea for her, hot chocolate for me. "Did your friends enjoy the cakes?"

I nodded. "Everyone except Liz. She's just so...ugh! She doesn't want anyone to do anything except what she tells them. It's so annoying."

She tilted her head sympathetically. "Some people are just immature. She'll never be a grown up if she doesn't learn to act like one. Cake, dear?"

I nodded again, maybe a little too vigorously. Ms. McKinley rose up to retrieve her jam and sponge from the cupboard. I was still sat at the table, sipping my drink and swinging my legs, when the gangly shadow flicked across the window.

I shot round to look, a splash of hot chocolate hitting my dress as I turned. The garden was empty, the trespasser gone, but a tell-tale trail of trampled grass led to the faeriefruit bush and back.

I bolted up. "Ms. McKinley, I think—"

"Leave it, pet. Some people need to learn a lesson the hard way."

-

The next time I saw Liz she looked thinner, paler. She didn't seem to tower over the rest of us as much. In the back of my head, I wondered if it was sickness from eating faeriefruit.

Good, I thought. That'll teach her.

But a day of tiredness and lethargy soon turned into a week. She was speaking less, standing back more, fading from the group like a shadow scattering under cloud cover. Soon there were days where she didn't come outside at all.

I asked her about it at school, once. She shrugged from across the lunch table, too busy pulling the crust off her uneaten sandwich to even look up. "Just don't feel like playing much, Getting too old for it, you know?"

I tried to nod convincingly, sympathetically. I didn't know, not really. But it seemed like the polite thing to do. "How come you're not eating?"

She shrugged again. "Just not hungry. Hey, did McKinley give you any more of those cakes?"

I shook my head and pretended not to see the way her shoulders drooped with genuine dismay.

It turned out there wouldn't be any more faeriefruit for me either.

"Afraid the plant's withered up, pet," Ms. McKinley told me the next time I came over. She pointed out the window to where the faeriefruit bush once grew. Now there was only a path of empty earth, as fresh as a newly-dug grave. "Faeriefruit can be fickle like that. I don't even know if it'll be back next year."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it. But not as much as Lizzie, I bet.

After all, she only got the one taste.

I never got the chance to tell her, or even time to decide if I should, because that's when she disappeared from school. First it was just a day. Then a second, a third, but by the end of the week our teacher announced Lizzie was in the hospital. Something about not getting enough nutrition.

We scribbled cards in class and waited eagerly for the return of the bold, brash Liz, hopefully with hospital stories and maybe a scar. But the weeks passed into months, and the weather turned grey, and all our morbid curiosity died away as we realized Lizzie wasn't getting better.

I went to see her once. Just once. In books and stories they always say sick people look like ghosts. Lizzie didn't look like a ghost. Lizzie looked dead.  The girl who once stood like a sunflower in a field of weeds now lay back on a bleached white pillow, little more than a gauzy skeleton. Her lips were cracked like crumbling dust and I could see the blue of her veins pulse weakly under her pale skin.

She didn't talk. I don't think she could talk. And maybe that's for the best.

What do you say to someone who's obviously going to die?

Lizzie didn't make it till spring. She was buried in a grave so far up the hillside I could see it from my bedroom window. I kept my curtains closed for a long, long time.

Some months later, when the last of the slush had melted, my mum took me on one of her regular visits to granddad's grave. She didn't stop me when I slipped away, wandering my way up the hill. I don't know if I wanted to see Lizzie, but it felt like I had to.

As I worked my way through the rows of mismatched headstones, a figure came into view. Kneeling over a grave, the grave, with gloves and hat and trowel in hand. A figure I now knew even from afar.

Ms. McKinley.

"They never tell you about the weeds," she called out, as I kept coming closer. She didn't seem surprised to see me. She never did. "Good earth makes for good weeds, even when there are bodies underneath. But maybe today we've got something even better..."

She looked so at ease with her hands in the earth, the new grass not even grown over. As I watched her, I remembered what Ms. McKinley said about faerie folk. How you'll never get a straight answer out of them. I remembered how I asked her if she really was a witch. She gave me a list of all the witchy things she didn't do.

But she never said no.

With one tug, Ms. McKinley pulled something up. A tangle of roots, thin and fine, that seemed to go on forever. She wiped the glistening sweat off her brow. "Good news; there'll be plenty of jam this year."

My stomach lurched. I could see the head she was holding now—gangly leaves of five and blood-red berries not yet ripe. Growing right over Lizzie's grave.

Ms. McKinley gave me a dark, knowing smile. "You know, some people think faeriefruit is a bit bitter."

She plucked a single berry and popped it in her mouth.

"But I think it's the sweetest fruit of all."

[keishajay]

I meant for this whole review to go in one post, but damn, I had a lot of complaints, way more than I thought once I started writing them down.  Some are nitpicky; most are related to characters and writing choices.  For the fans of this series, I did enjoy this series for what it is, but I’ll never defend it as great literature.  It’s Sharknado levels of fun, and I live for stupid shit like that.  For the haters, enjoy.  Oh, and spoilers ahead.

Now, on to the cons, and hoo boy, are there a lot of them.  First, I was shocked to see this was labeled book 7 and not 6.  I had no interest in reading Tower of Dawn, as it was marketed as a side story novella.  Kingdom of Ash expects you to have read it and spends little to no time explaining who all these new characters are.  It’s not confusing, just annoying for those of us not invested in Chaol’s story enough to read the novella.  If you like Chaol, more power to you.  I just didn’t care enough about what was a sure outcome to waste my time reading a novella about him and only him.  Nesryn goes with him as well, but she was barely a character in the fifth (fourth? I don’t know anymore) book, more a cool background piece than a real person.  That’s not nearly enough for me to pick up an entire book.

Maas brings in four new “personalities” from Tower of Dawn that really just take up space and fawn over Aelin, just like everyone else.  Hasar is just a crabbier version of Aelin; Sartaq loves Nesryn and that’s it; Yrene is Chaol’s wife who’s a healer and that’s it; and Borte likes arguing with her fiance.  They might be more interesting in ToD, but here, they just read like cardboard cutouts.  They’re unnecessary and boring.

And speaking of unnecessary, there are WAY too many POV characters in these books.  What started with a handful of mostly essential characters has now become a library’s worth of them.  Even Lysandra’s ward, Evangeline, gets a couple POV bits to herself. Why?  They added nothing to the story aside from remind us that she was there and still alive.  More POVs should only ever be added to further the story or themes.  I kid you not, Elide and Lorchan are together for 90% of the last two books, and for some reason, they both have POV chapters.  Elide was already established and should’ve been the only one necessary, but you know, Lorchan’s hot so we should hear him angst too.  And that is all he does, by the way, angsts over Elide.  Hell, by the end, I was a little surprised Abraxos didn’t have his own POV chapter.

Maas also adds nonsensical things in to ramp up the drama.  The worst offender is the character Darrow.  He and TWO other old men boss Aedion around throughout this entire book, because... reasons, I guess.  They don’t recognize Aelin as queen, fine.  But they’re three old dudes against Aedion, who literally commands their entire army and the fire-bringer all the people in their whole country rally to.  If anyone can give me a logical reason why Aedion didn’t just ignore every order they attempted to give him, I’m all ears.  Instead, he tiptoes around them constantly and outright steals his own army from under their noses to do what he wants anyway.  Why?  They all know damn well Aelin is the rightful queen and they wouldn’t even have an army without her and Aedion.  She could crush them under her thumb, and they all know that too.  Hell, Aedion’s treason would even be forgiven in moments when she took her throne back from... no one.  Darrow isn’t even trying to be king of Terrasen.  He just doesn’t like the idea of this bratty teenager being his queen, and who can blame him?  Yeah, I know she wants her country to be different, but she can’t change anything from the sidelines when the old rules are the only things keeping those men in power over her.  There is no good reason for Aedion to obey any of their orders.  They can do nothing to stop him, and they all know it.  They are literally only there so Aedion has someone besides Lysandra to be pissed off at.

Speaking of Aedion being pissed off at Lysandra.  For the haters out there, yes, he has every right to be mad at her.  She may not have been the one to come up with this insanity, sure, but she knew Aelin suspected it might be necessary.  Telling the one person who foams at the mouth anytime someone gets within spitting distance of his cousin that maybe something terrible could happen to her, making this plan necessary, should be at the top of your to-do list.  She knew damn well what she was doing and how he would react the entire time Aelin was teaching her to play pretend.  He should be angry with her for not telling him what was going through Aelin’s head, not for following the orders of their queen.  Yes, him throwing he naked out in the snow was a major dick move, and I’m glad that she didn’t let him forget it.  What I don’t condone is his reaction to seeing Aelin again.  He just hugs her like nothing ever happened.  He’s an asshole to Lysandra for months, but he just forgives Aelin for everything as soon as he sees her.  I’m sorry but no.  I would’ve forgiven the entire conflict between him and Lysandra being tedious if he had just punched her in the face before he hugged her.  God knows she deserves it for all the shit she’s pulled over the course of six books.

So, I hate Aelin Galathynius.  Like straight up hate her.  She went from being a brat in the first few books to being the worst case of Mary Sueitis I have ever seen outside of self-insert fanfiction.  First, she’s a secret princess, a “twist” anyone with a brain could see coming.  She’s also somehow the best at everything she does, even though she shows no evidence of any of it.  How does the country’s best assassin get caught?  On top of that, how does anyone even know who the country’s best assassin is?  Shouldn’t hiding your identity be rule number one in the assassin handbook?  This shit-licker could’ve been any happy-ass teenager with a knife pretending to be this famous assassin when they caught her.  How would they know?  Answer, they shouldn’t have any idea (that would’ve also made for a much more interesting story).  So, not only is she the best at everything she tries for reasons, she’s also the only one in the whole damn world with fire magic, the only thing that can hurt the demons for a majority of the series.  And she doesn’t just have regular old everyday fire magic.  No, she has fire to rival fifteen suns going supernova at the same time.  She’s also the prettiest and smartest and nicest and snarkiest and funniest girl in the world.  She outsmarts someone thousands of years old who could’ve snapped her neck or dropped her in to a literal Hell with a flick of her wrist.  But no, Princess Mary Sue wants her new boytoy free, so the villainess has to get tricked into letting him go.  Now, let’s not forget she’s also the Chosen One who deus ex machinas her way out of sacrificing herself because no one can do anything without her there to save the day.  Seriously, no one ever wins anything unless she’s there.  It happens more than once in this book.  Her boytoy and company show up to rescue her from aforementioned villainess just as she’s breaking herself out, and they can’t get her chains off until she somehow shows them how to unlock them.  She then proceeds to get them out of the country through her magic of summoning deus ex machinas whenever she needs one, and they arrive just in time to rescue Chaol and Nesryn from certain doom.  She stops a cascading river with fire because science, and when all hope is lost back home, she shows up on a magical white deer with the Rohir- oops, I mean her army.  She also somehow holds off two of the most powerful creatures in the world with her assassin skills and barely any magic, because... villains have to lose, I guess.  You know what Aelin loses by the end of the book?  Her humanity, which she suddenly cares about ten pages before it’s gone.  Aedion lost his father and at least half an army at his command.  Manon lost the only people she really cared about in the whole world, and she could do nothing but watch them sacrifice themselves.  And Aelin lost her humanity when she’s already been living as a fae since book 3.  Oh God, how will she ever survive such a loss?  She is actually the worst.

These books, this one in particular, are clearly written with a younger audience in mind (much younger than me at least, and I’m 30), and I strongly believe the target audience is girls.  There is so much description of how beautiful the men in this series are that it almost borders on obscene.  I do appreciate having a clear picture of what characters look like, but I do not need to know about all the rippling muscles and long fingers that all the men in this series seem to have.  Even bookworm Dorian is described as being oh-so-sexy even though he doesn’t appear to have ever handled a weapon in his life.  There is a lot of pandering to the female audience, especially with the sex scenes.  In a YA novel, these are pretty inappropriate.  She started with sex scenes being a fade-to-black kind of event, and now, almost every single one is described in disgusting detail.  I like romance as much as the next girl, but if I wanted soft-core porn, I’d read romance novels.  To top that shift off, she still insists on using “rutting” as a substitute for “fucking,” and I think that’s what bothers me the most about the whole change here.  They are completely interchangeable in every context, to the point where I just read “rutting” as “fucking” every single time.  This isn’t Brandon Sanderson’s silly but story-appropriate swearing.  It’s just lazy writing.  And detailed descriptions of sex are okay, but swearing?  Someone call Takamata.  We need to start the Inquisition. (History of the World reference for anyone confused.)

This story ends exactly as you should expect it to, with a happily ever after.  None of the main characters die, and those with names go out as sacrifices, which is honestly consistent with the rest of the deaths in this series.  The deaths we do get are mostly to make the main characters feel bad for no real reason.  Aedion even flat-out states that Gavriel could’ve stayed inside the walls, and there is no argument, author or characters, as to why he had to go outside.  At least the Thirteen’s sacrifice makes more sense.  It was still pretty dumb to have them go out at all, but I don’t know if I could come up with a better way to destroy those witch towers.  What they did was noble and understandable in context, though there were probably any number of ways it could’ve been avoided.  I’ve seen Desolation of Smaug.  Just drop a dragon/whale/elephant-Lysandra on top of the tower before they even get it fixed up to move again.

One last complaint that I have regarding the ending is largely the villains.  There are three of them, and all three kind of go out like bitches.  Erawan, the dickhead pulling the strings since book 1, gets tricked and healed to death.  There are a lot of millennia-old creatures getting tricked into doing stupid things in these books.  Manon’s grandmother (who never gets a name by the way) gets blown up by Asterin.  Honestly, hers was probably the most satisfying end of the three because Asterin got the vengeance she deserved for her hunter and child.  Maeve somehow became the biggest threat halfway through the series, and she meets her end in the most extravagant fashion, impaled by Fenrys and then decapitated by Aelin and burned to ash.  What irritates me most about Maeve is she could’ve been great.  If anyone has read the manga, Magi, you know what I’m talking about.  Maeve is discount Gyokuen with half the threat and less than a quarter the sense.  Where Gyokuen is highly capable, both as a fighter and a politician, Maeve is kind of a pushover who gets tricked by our “heroes” numerous times.  She’s shown preparing for all sorts of unlikely eventualities, but she somehow can’t handle the plucky teenagers.  Give me a break.  From the moment you meet her, you know Gyokuen is going to be one of those bad guys that will require some clever thinking to defeat.  I felt like Maeve could just be snuck up on and murdered by anyone who knew her schedule.  Her last ditch effort against Aelin was clever, but other than that, she barely puts up a fight despite all the fear and hype she gets from almost every character in the book.

Now, like I said above, I did enjoy these books.  I don’t feel like my time was wasted or that I was manipulated by them at all.  I had fun with them the same way that I have fun with SyFy channel original movies.  The characters and story had so much more potential than what this amounted to, but I don’t hate this series at all.  Yes, the subplot with the gods was idiotic and unnecessary, but the valg were interesting as an enemy type.  Yes, the romance shoved down my throat could be awful at times, but some of the relationships were genuinely sweet.  Chaol and Dorian are the best bros, and I love Lysandra taking it upon herself to protect this little girl when she could’ve looked the other way.  Manon’s relationship with Asterin was great as well.  Do I wish it was better?  Absolutely.  Should it be boycotted by everyone?  Of course not.  Despite their problems, these books are fun, fluffy, popcorn movie fun, and sometimes, that’s just fine.

[music-is-love-90]

Chapter 8 for your consideration

Ch. 8:

Eleanor leaned against the pews of St. Anne while Klaus paced in the aisle.

“Kieran’s getting worse.” She said softly.  

Klaus nodded and she sighed.

“Cami won’t ever give up.” She told him.  “I’m afraid she will be devastated…and unprepared for the task that her family shoulders if she can’t find a cure.”

Klaus moved towards her and wrapped her in his arms.

“You needn’t worry, love.” He said softly as she leaned her head against his chest.   “We’ll do whatever needs to be done to help her.”

Eleanor nodded and closed her eyes, melting into her husband’s embrace.

“I love you, Nik.” She whispered.  “I know how she feels a little.  I haven’t really let myself mourn for Kol and Finn since I awoke because I know that if I stop and let myself feel that pain, I’ll be useless to the cause, but I can feel it on the edges when I pause for just a moment and it is all consuming.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Why didn’t you kill those responsible?” she asked softly. “That Elena girl, she still lives. Why isn’t her blood intermingled with Kol’s ashes?”

“She’s of the Petrova Doppelganger line.” Klaus replied simply.  “I needed her blood.”

Eleanor didn’t seem happy with this explanation, but she let it go.  The couple held each other for a few more minutes before being interrupted by Oliver, dragging another werewolf behind him.

“You don’t stop squirming, I don’t care who you know, I’m gonna kneecap you right here.” The Crescent threatened, stopping short as Klaus appeared in front of him.

“When I asked you to bring Cary to me, it was as my guest.” Klaus told him, clearly annoyed.  “Might I recommend you release him before I opt to release you from your mortal coil.”

“I found him like you asked, and he jumped me.” Oliver groused. “Now, his pack’s been going at mine since the beginning of time.  I don’t owe him a thing.”

“Which is why Marcel was able to take this city from you and why I’m considering doing it again.” Eleanor said, approaching more slowly. She ignored Klaus and Oliver and smiled at Cary.  “Hello, darling.  I’m Eleanor.”

She held out her hand and the werewolf hesitantly took it. She pulled him away to sit on a pew as Klaus continued to glare at Oliver.

“The packs should have been united.” He told the werewolf as Eleanor checked on Cary’s health and put him at ease.  “Marcel saw that weakness and he exploited it.  If you seek to rebuild with only the Crescents, you may as well stay in you hovels in the bog!”

He turned away from Oliver and moved over to his wife, who smiled at him.

“There are legends about you in the werewolf packs.” She told him, obviously amused.  

“Are there really?” he asked, leaning against the pew and turning to Cary.  “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”

“Legend says you’re descended from our line.” The werewolf told him.

“The legends are true.” Klaus replied.  “Here.” He pulled his birth father’s ring out and showed it to Cary.  “I understand that this ring was passed down through generations of our family.  I need to know what stone it housed.”

“I never saw it with a stone.” Cary told him.

“Could you ask around, darling?” Eleanor asked, smiling kindly.  “My husband is devoted to the cause of helping his pack and all the others as well, but we need to know what stone this housed to do that.”

Cary looked between them and nodded.  Eleanor smiled and took his hand, squeezing it.

“Thank you.”

Klaus left Eleanor at the church, and she was about to go up to check on the priest, but was distracted when Diego appeared at the door. She waited for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

“Diego?” she said finally, approaching him slowly.  “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t trust Klaus any further than I could throw him.” He told her, making her stop.  “Elijah’s a dick, but at least I know where I stand with him.  And you, I don’t know you.”

“Okay.” She said slowly.  “Is there a point to this assessment of my family, or…?”

“The point is I don’t know you, but nothing you’ve done since rejoining the world has harmed the vampires of this city.” He continued. “You actually seem to care about the vampires here and if I have to trust someone, you are the only one who hasn’t betrayed me.”

“Diego, I’m confused.” Eleanor said.  “Why are you - ?”

“Marcel approached me.” Diego interjected.

Eleanor started.

“He wants to get the vampires on his side.” He continued.  “He says you and Klaus are holding secret meetings with the witches and the werewolves.  That you’re making deals.”

“Of course we’re making deals.” Eleanor said.  “We’re trying to make a lasting peace, which requires compromise.  As the Original Family, we have an obligation to you and the rest of our communities. We’re vampire, but we’re also werewolf and witch and fae.  We’re trying to bring all of our people into one community.”

“Marcel wants to kick you out, return it back to the way it was.” Diego told her.  “That’s going to appeal to a lot of the vampires who have been used to being in charge.”

Eleanor sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Don’t tell anyone what you’ve told me, if you don’t mind?” she asked with another sigh.  “If Nik hears, he’ll launch a full out war and if Elijah will go with him because he doesn’t like to be messed with, and that will be to the detriment of us all.”

Diego nodded.

“I can’t promise no one will jump ship.” He warned.

“I know.” She acknowledged.  “Thank you for telling me.”

Diego nodded and a second later, he was gone.  Eleanor sighed and leaned against the pew again.

“Are you okay?”

Eleanor lifted her head to see Cami by the alter.

“Just…politics.” She replied with a rueful smile.  “Turns out controlling a city, not so easy.”

Cami smiled and shook her head as Eleanor took a deep breath.

“I was just coming to check on your uncle.  How is he today?”

“Worse.” Cami replied sadly.  “He’s getting weaker.”

Eleanor walked over and took the other woman’s hands in hers.

“Nik went to talk to Genevieve.” She told her.  “And when that inevitably blows up, I have a back up plan. In fact…” she glanced at her watch, “we might be able to hear the explosion from here.”

Cami just chuckled and shook her head.

In the Coven House, the explosion was bubbling just like Eleanor predicted.

“You came all this way to beg for some human’s life?” the witch scoffed.

“Father Kieran’s time is running out, and he has been an ally to me.” Klaus told her.

“Your ally…and Cami’s uncle.” Genevieve pointed out. “How does your wife feel about you helping dear Cami?”

“My wife cares for Camille as well and would do what needs to be done to help her.”  Klaus ground out.  “Now can you help the Father?”

“Sorry.” Genevieve said dismissively.  “As I’ve already said, there’s no way to undo that hex.”

“Oh, come on.” Klaus shot back.  “You and I both know there’s a loophole.  Isn’t that what you’re exploiting with my wife?”

“Eleanor is only under a curse.” Genevieve replied calmly. “That is entirely different from being under a hex.  I don’t have a loophole for this, at least not among my people.” She trailed off. “Although…I do wonder.  Your mother was powerful.  She would have had access to all manner of spells.  Perhaps I could take a look through her grimoire.”

Klaus chuckled slightly.

“You want to use father Kieran’s ailment as an excuse to look through my mother’s spellbook.  Very devious.”

“Come on.” She wheedled.  “The grimoire is worthless to you.  But with its power, I could solidify my place in the coven.”

“No, I’m sorry, love.” Klaus told her.  “It’s bad enough my mother’s power was consecrated with your ancestors.  The last thing I need is for you to get a look at an entire book of her dirty, little tricks.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Genevieve said dismissively. “Particularly for poor Father Kieran. I guess you’ll be the one to tell Cami.”

Klaus lunged at her and slammed her against the table by the throat before leaning in close.

“You think you have leverage over me.” He hissed.  “I will not be manipulated.”

“Vamisa la visia.” Genevieve hissed.

Klaus groaned and released Genevieve.

“And I won’t be threatened.” She shot back, stumbling away. “And if you try that again, it won’t be you that bears the brunt of my displeasure, but you’re dear wife.  So, between the two of us, we each know where we stand. As long as we can retain that mutual respect, I don’t need for any further demonstrations of power.  Don’t call me again.”

Klaus came into his bedroom to find Eleanor at the dressing table, working on her make up for the party that night.   He came up behind her and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck.

“How did your meeting with Genevieve go?” she asked, smiling in the mirror at him.

“As well as expected.” He said with a sigh.

“That bad, huh?” she said with a chuckle.

He went and sat on the bed.

“She won’t help us and she wants Mother’s grimoire.”

Eleanor shook her head.

“The last thing we need is that book falling into the hands of the French Quarter Witches.” She said instantly.  

Klaus nodded, but looked thoughtful.

“It could work to our advantage, though.”

Eleanor studied him for a moment and then her face hardened.

“No.” she said immediately.   “No.”

Klaus’s face became stubborn and Eleanor got to her feet.

“I have worked hard to maneuver Cami into a place where she might be able to appeal to Genevieve.” She told him angrily.  “You will not screw this up.  Kieran is more important than your need to get one over on that harlot!”

“She threatened you!” he shot back.  “That cannot be allowed to stand!”

“She threatens me every day!” Eleanor yelled at him.  “If we return a volley every time, we’ll spend every damn day locked in battle with the Wicked Witch!”

“I will not show weakness to her.” Klaus growled.

“You will if that’s what you need to do to get what we want done!” she shouted back.  “We need the witches just as much as we need the wolves and the vampires!  I am close with Davina, but we don’t need to make more enemies than we already have!”

“She is already an enemy!” Klaus sneered.  “We might as well treat her that way!”

“She is an ally until I say differently.” Eleanor declared. “And as the cursed member of this marriage, I declare the right to decide when we piss off the people holding the key to my curse!”

“What is all the shouting?”

The couple spun to see Elijah in the doorway, almost dressed and holding his jacket in his hand.  Husband and wife glared at each other before Eleanor huffed and  sat at the dressing table once more, turning her back on the two men.

“Just a disagreement on the party tonight.” Klaus assured his brother.  “My dear wife doesn’t agree with my choice of tie.  She thinks it will clash with her dress.”

Elijah quirked an eyebrow.

“You two have been yelling at each other for 10 minutes about a tie?” he questioned.

“Eleanor has very strong feelings about it.” Klaus replied.

“Uh huh.” His brother said skeptically.  “Well, I’m almost ready.  Will your…disagreement be settled soon?”

“Yes.” Eleanor said, getting to her feet and still ignoring her husband.  “Both of you out.  I need to get dressed.”

She glared at the two men and they eventually retreated. Eleanor closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  After a second, she moved towards her closet to get dressed.

Klaus walked onto the balcony to find Eleanor leaning on the railing, watching the festivities below.  She was dressed in a blood red gown so dark it was almost black, with a draped back.  He had to stop himself from running his hand down her back.  Instead, he went and leaned next to her.   They stood there in silence, watching the crowd.

“What are you planning?” she asked softly.  “Cut off the hand of who ever she sent to get the grimoire and give it back to her?”

“How did you guess?” he asked.

Eleanor laughed humorlessly.

“I know you, husband.  Even if I’m not sure of this new version who has grown in my absence, I know you.  I know your quirks and I know your ways.  And I trust you.  I just wish you trusted me.”

“Do you know what I did when I left you earlier?” he asked and she shook her head.  “I went and got Mother’s spellbook and got it ready to set the trap.  But instead…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a page from the book, “I got this.  I thought we could give it to Davina.  It might help our cause with her.”

She looked over the page in her hands and pressed her lips together before nodding.

“I do trust you.” He said softly.  “More than I trust anyone, even Elijah.  I trust you with my life and my heart.  It’s just…I’ve been doing this alone for so long, Ellie.”

Eleanor reached over and took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly.  

“You didn’t need to be alone.” She told him.  “Elijah, Bex, hell even Kol, they all would have been there for you if you would have let them.  But that is the past.  I’m here now and you’ll never be alone again, but you have to let me in.  You have to include me in decisions and you have to trust me when I tell you that something is a bad idea.  This is what I have done for my entire life and we can’t have this argument every time you decide your way is best.  I promise you, there will be time when your way is best.  But violence is not always the answer, despite what you may have learned in the past few centuries.”

“But it’s what I’m best at.” He told her with a charming smile that made her shake her head.

“This is why no one in this town likes us, just so you know.” She pointed out.

“I never said their hatred was misplaced.” He said, shrugging.

Eleanor shook her head again.

“I don’t hate everything about your plan.” She told him. “Laying a trap is a good plan, but if you had talked to me, we could have figured out a compromise.”

“Well, her minion is on his way, so if you have a better plan, now is the time, love.”

“Will you follow my lead?”

Klaus smiled.

“Always, my love.”

Eleanor shook her head and headed back inside and Klaus followed. She headed to the balcony and watched as a male witch walked over to the table where the grimoire lay.

“A little too easy, isn’t it?” Klaus called.  “We’ve been expecting you.”

Husband and wife appeared next to him and Eleanor grinned.

“You’re late.” She told him.  “We have a party to get to.”

[bmaxwell]

Best Games of 2020

2020 was a lot. It will be remembered for many things far above and beyond video games. COVID-19 shut the world down in a way never seen in my lifetime. It changed day to day life for many of us, and cost many of us loved ones. It was also the year when the ugly parts of our capitalist society were shown in broad daylight. It feels like 2001 again in that our lives will be divided into pre-2020 and post-2020.

For me personally, I was able to keep my job and work from home, and no one close to us died to the pandemic. We stayed home as much as possible, wore masks, wiped down groceries, and did our best to control what we could. It can be hard to talk about stuff like video games and sports with the usual sort of fervor when the world feels like it’s falling apart around us. It feels like playing the violin aboard the Titanic. But self-care is especially important in times like these, and it’s healthy and necessary to close Twitter, or for-the-love-of-god fucking Facebook and get a breather sometimes. Finding a balance where I could stay informed without completely submerging myself in misery wasn’t always easy. 

And so. 2020 was a pretty good year for games, though it must be noted that there is a cost to that escapism - the industry is rife with stories of abuse, burnout, and coverups from companies such as Ubisoft and CD Projekt Red, Naughty Dog, and many others. That can add an additional layer of exhaustion to what is supposed to be a relaxing escape. So I can understand the people who say they don’t want to hear about abuse in industry, they just want the games. But also, fuck those people. “I don’t care if you suffer to entertain me, I just don’t want to hear about it.” Fuck the whole entire way off.

But I digress. Like most years, I played a lot of games. I played a lot of coop beat-em-ups with my kids this year. Minecraft Dungeons and Streets of Rage 4 didn’t make the list, but I spent hours playing them with my middle child. And it wasn’t a 2020 release, but I had a blast playing River City Girls with firstborn. It was a good year for fans of tactics games with stuff like Gears Tactics, Troubleshooter, Wintermoor Tactics Club, and Fae Tactics. 2020 also saw new console releases, though the launch lineups were especially thin. 

Gaming-wise, 2020 was the year of Xbox Game Pass for me. I spent most of this console generation (justifiably) dogging Xbox for their lack of platform exclusives, but I decided to pursue an Xbox Series X before a Playstation 5. Game Pass is the main reason for this. The “Netflix for games” thing has finally become a reality, and Sony just doesn’t have an answer for the bonkers value of Game Pass. We head into the new console generation with Microsoft leaning heavily on Game Pass subs, Sony still banking on a few console exclusives, and Nintendo, uh, doing their own thing over there. What a fascinating time for the industry.

Honorable Mention

It’s an honor just to be nominated.

Monster Sanctuary

If you start with Pokemon, strip away the anime, and mix in a healthy dose of metroidvania, you have Monster Sanctuary. This means there are monsters to collect, level, and evolve, and lots of combat revolving around elemental strengths and weaknesses. And I am here for that shit. A game like this lives and dies by its combat, and it’s very satisfying here. The game has plenty of choices about which skills to focus on for each monster, which gear to equip, and which monsters to keep in your active roster.

That said, between a couple of nasty difficulty spikes and some super-frustrating puzzle rooms, I was close to walking away from the game on multiple occasions. It’s a testament to the game’s quality that I kept coming back to it.

Animal Crossing

Animal Crossing on the Gamecube is one of my favorite games ever.  Each game in the series since the first has felt like a small incremental change from the original. I played Wild World on the DS quite a bit, City Folk a bit less, and A New Leaf not at all. I was thinking that maybe enough time has passed that I could get wrapped up in New Horizons, but I fell off it after a month or two. 

I’m wondering what I would want from a new Animal Crossing game, and the answer is nothing. How much can you change the game and still have it be Animal Crossing? I don’t think the game is bad by any means. My whole family shared an island community for a couple of months. It’s impossible for a new game in the series make me feel the way that first game did. 

The most memorable part of New Horizons is the museum. The museum is huge and absolutely lovely, with fish, bugs, fossils, and art each having their own wing. There were a few nights where the tranquility of the museum made for a nice end of the day.

Tell Me Why

My wife, firstborn, and myself have made a nice routine of playing through “choices matter” games together (starting last year with Detroit Become Human and following up with Life is Strange 2). Tell Me Why is the latest one one of these we tackled as a group. These game have created some memorable moments for us; who could forget their child yelling for them to “shoot the hooker”? (thank you, Detroit Become Human). 

Tell Me Why was on my radar because it’s One of These, but also because it features a transgender protagonist. As a parent of a trans child, I was both excited at the prospect of this and also worried that it is such an easy thing to fumble. I’m pleased to report that DONTNOD handled the writing of the trans person very well without being hamfisted, preachy, or tryhardy with it. The character of Tyler is a believable trans man, and the topic is spoken of matter-of-factly without placing special focus on it; being trans is a part of Tyler’s story, but it’s not the entirety of his identity.  

Less impressive to me was the story itself - especially the way it wrapped up its main conflict. The game trades in the idea of memory being imperfect, which is fascinating in and of itself, but I did not like it as a game mechanism. How did this REALLY happen? One character remembers it one way, and the other remembers it differently. Choosing between them felt cheap and hollow to me; I want you to tell me what happened, don’t ask me to choose. Still, I enjoyed my time with the game, and it feels like a step forward in mainstream storytelling for LGBTQA characters.

Ghost of Tsushima

Ghost of Tsushima is flat out gorgeous. Practically every area and every moment in the game is begging to screenshotted to the point where it can sometimes pull me out of the game world a little bit. That’s not necessarily a complaint because, as I said, the game is freaking beautiful. But every part of the world looking like a painting makes it feel more like it takes place in a fantasy world and less like a game from feudal Japan. 

I also had some ludonarrative dissonance going on with the game; you play as Jin, one of the few surviving samurai in his homeland which has been invaded by the Mongols. His uncle is being held prisoner, and combatting the occupying force would be impossible without using dishonorable techniques like hiding, attacking from a distance, and ambushing from the shadows. I, however, have no qualms and savored every opportunity to catch my foes unaware. So Jin voices his doubts, then goes into a camp and proceeds to cut his enemies down from shadows as I cackle with glee.

Ghost of Tsushima also combines dark souls-esque* combat with Ubisoft-style open world gameplay where you’re hunting down icons on a map. That kind of open world game is hard for me top stick with, especially after I spent ~30 hours with Assassin’s Creed Origins early in the year. All of makes it sound like I’m pretty down on Ghost of Tsushima, which I’m not. I’m hoping I’ll come back to it at some point when I have more of an appetite for One of These. 

Crown Trick

My Dungeons of Dredmor hole has not been properly filled in a long time. Chcocobo’s Mystery Dungeon is the closest I think. These games are what I think of as roguelikes, though the progression between runs makes them roguelites. *tips fedora*

Crown Trick is a turn-based dungeon crawler where the map is a grid, and each time you act, the enemies act. Add to this clockwork puzzle gameplay a good variety of weapons, relics, and events and you’ve got a lot of replayability. It doesn’t have Dredmor’s ridiculous combination of skill classes, but it does have a neat Mega Man-esque system where you defeat minibosses and add their skill set to your build.

Top 10

10. Star Renegades

Star Renegades was not on my radar at all until I heard Austin Walker talk about the game on Waypoint Radio. Two things gave me pause:

- It’s a sci-fi-ass game. It’s a setting I don’t care for. Star destroyers and aliens and galactic battlecruisers aren’t my jam. - Austin Walker’s enthusiasm is infectious. I’ve tried games after hearing him gush over them and those games haven’t worked for me.** That’s not an indictment, he and I just have different tastes.

Star Renegades ticks a few important boxes for me: it has a lot of characters to unlock, it’s highly customizable, and the combat is turn-based with a twist. Every action, whether friend or foe, appears on a timeline. Some attacks will push their target’s action back on the timeline, so there’s a puzzle element to the combat that keeps it feeling fresh. You can choose the makeup of your party on each run, which helped give the game a buttload of replay value.

It’s not flawless by any means. The writing tries a little too hard to be cheeky and ends up feeling tryhardy and a little flat. A decent run in the game would often take 2-3 hours, which makes it feel deflating when it ends in failure - which it frequently did. The sections of the game where you move between zones on an overhead map feels needlessly clunky, and sometimes I ended up with movement points I couldn’t spend because of how the game handles that system.

I enjoyed Star Renegades a lot, but my time with it was weird. The game has unlockable characters, so unlocking them all was my first priority. The game’s runs are pretty long, I was playing sub-optimally trying to unlock things, and the game is more difficult than I’d expected. It took me a long time to complete the unlocks, then I had a hard time actually finishing a run successfully. Eventually I was ready to be done with it and turned the difficulty down to easy**** just to finally get a W. Still, the positives far outweigh the negative here, and Star Renegades is one of my favorite games of 2020.

9. Immortals Fenyx Rising

Man, something happened to me this December. I’m currently finding myself playing a lot of Forza Horizon 4, Destiny 2, and Immortals Fenyx Rising. None of these is My Kind of Game. Immortals is probably the least surprising of these, because it at least has swords and bows and stuff. 

Still, I dismissed and mocked Immortals Fenyx Rising when it was first shown. It was called Gods & Monsters back then, and the idea of Ubisoft making yet another open world game, this time aping Breath of Wild was not appealing at all. I only ended up with the game after trading in Cyberpunk 2077 for Xbox credit and looking into Immortals because I was very surprised to see it on Game Informer’s game of the year list.

To get a few things out of the way, it absolutely recycles a lot from Breath of the Wild: you’ll be hang gliding, scaling walls as a stamina meter drains, finding shrines that contain puzzles and combat and climbing towers to get a vantage point and find points of interest on the map. The latter feels the most fumbled in this game  - you can zoom in and survey the landscape, and your controller vibrates when you are looking near a point of interest. Move the cursor over it and press a button to reveal it on the map. They split the difference between Assassin’s Creed’s “all the icons pop in automatically” and Zelda’s wonderful “manually mark places that look interesting to you on your map” system and ended up with something neither functional nor interesting. 

That’s where my complaints end though. The game’s art style is similar at a glance, but it’s vibrant and gorgeous, and never feels like Breath of the Wild. The combat is snappy, responsive, and challenging. The puzzle design is often creative, clever, and rarely frustrating; most of my frustration has come from my overthinking the puzzle solutions. There is plenty of gear to find, and the game’s cosmetic options are intuitive and welcome. The game’s narrative is better than I expected;  it feels like a B-tier Disney movie. The writing has made me smile a few times, and made me roll my eyes a few times. Zeus as comic relief is a pretty major miss, but it’s fine apart from that. It helps that I’m already familiar with Greek mythology. 

It’s a huge, beautiful world where traversal and combat feel great. It’s sometimes hard to get anything done because I am constantly distracted by tracking down an icon on the map, or just exploring because I saw something cool or strange. Not all of the puzzles and challenges work, but that’s okay because I can move onto something else. Immortals Fenyx Rising is this year’s Dragon Quest Builders 2: gaming comfort food where it feels good to sit back and check things off a list at the end of a long day. Still don’t like the name though. And fuck Ubisoft.

8. Atomicrops

The first mention of Atomicrops I remember was “What if Stardew Valley was a twin stick shooter?” which is bullshit, because the games bear no resemblance beyond “there’s farming”. Beyond that first blurb, what appealed to me is the idea that the game’s days take place in 2 phases: during the daytime, you go out and fight baddies to gather seeds, and at night the baddies invade your farm and you fight them off while planting and watering crops.

It’s also a run-based roguelike, and I am 1 of 26 remaining people who is still psyched to play those. Give me a challenge, mix up the details, let me upgrade stuff between sessions, and turn me loose. The game has a good variety of weapons and the challenge is satisfying and rarely feels unfair (apart from the bullet hell problem of too much stuff on the screen at times). I don’t love the art style, but the music sure makes up for it.

7. Wintermoor Tactics Club

A game needs more than charm to be memorable and enjoyable. Charm can go a long way though, and Wintermoor Tactics club has it in spades. It takes place at a small college, and you play as a girl named Alicia. She and her friends are members of the school’s tactics club, and much of the game takes place around a table littered with graph paper, rulebooks, and snacks. As someone who loved tabletop RPG’s in simpler times, and never had the traditional college experience, a prettied-up version of that appeals to me in a huge way. It’s not wholly idyllic though, and it touches on issues of discrimination and what it’s like to be an outcast.

The gameplay itself is pretty straightforward tactics stuff and it works fine but isn’t really the draw here. I was propelled through the game largely by a desire to meet the next character, get the next story bit, and keep basking in the game’s wonderful aesthetic and smart writing. There’s something lovely about sitting around the table and playing a game with friends, and this game really captures that.

6. Ratropolis

Ratrpolis is “A fusion of roguelite, tower defense, city-building, and deck-building!” which sounds like a hodgepodge of nonsense. And it kind of is. It’s a city building game where you are periodically being invaded from either the left or right side of the screen (or both). You choose from 6 leaders, each with their own pool of cards and play style, start with a basic deck of cards and slowly evolve it. The cards consist of buildings, military units, and various economic and military buffs. The major things that set this apart from favorites like Slay the Spire are that it happens in real time, and there is an economic aspect to manage. Tax money comes in every few seconds, and it’s possible to make poor decisions early on and not understand why you feel hamstrung later.

I spent a lot of games like that, not really understanding why I’d be doing okay and then get overwhelmed. I had a few rage quits early on, but I could tell that there was something there. I started approaching it with the mindset of building an economic engine in the early game, and I started having a lot more fun and success. Each of the 6 leaders feels distinct, and figuring them each out has been a lot of fun. Runs are usually no more than about 30 minutes, which feels about right.

5. Final Fantasy VII Remake

Despite identifying as a big JRPG fan, I’ve never enjoyed a mainline Final Fantasy game enough to finish it. This year I finished 2 of them: Final Fantasy XV and the Final Fantasy VII Remake.*** I played the original Playstation Final Fantasy VII release, I think I got through disc 1 and a little ways into disc 2. It didn’t resonate with me, so I came to this year’s remake with no reverence for the game. When many of the original game’s fans got upset with how much the remake changed the script from the source material, I didn’t have a horse in that race.

The remake is gorgeous, the combat and upgrade systems are engaging, and the story is interesting enough to keep me wanting to see what’s next. The 1997 release of the game had some stuff that isn’t going to play the same in 2020 like the scene where Cloud is crossdressing, the game’s themes of environmental activism, and, uh, the entire Don Corneo storyline come to mind. But the game handled all of this pretty well. I’m glad to say that this is one of the best RPG’s I played this year, and I look forward to the next entry whenever the hell it comes along. Cloud is still an unlikable punk though.

4. Monster Train

Slay the Spire was a surprise hit a couple of years ago, and inspired a lot of folks in the indie space to take a crack at the deckbuilding genre. Monster Train managed to to take inspirations from Slay the Spire but still feels like very much its own thing. Both games have you progressing through a series of encounters consisting of battles, shops, or small events trying to defeat the big bad at the end of a journey. You start with a deck of basic cards and upgrade them and add new cards along to way. You can’t really start a run planning on making a certain style of deck, you just choose from the cards available and watch the strategy form. The way this process tickles my brain makes these games endlessly replayable. The “one more run” is very strong here.

Monster Train differentiates itself in a couple of ways. First, where Slay the Spire was always just your one character battling one or more enemies, here you are summoning multiple creatures on the lower 3 levels of a 4-level train (I don’t know either). If the enemies reach the top floor of your train, they attack your core directly and eventually defeat you. This adds a strong spatial planning element - now you’re thinking about which combatants you want on each floor, and in what order.

The other notable difference between the games is that while Slay the Spire has four heroes, each with their own unique pool of cards, Monster Train has five factions. It’s one better. The first three factions feel pretty standard from a creativity point of view - red/green/blue are fire/nature/ice. The last two factions you unlock feel wholly unique though: there’s a faction that summons weak, cheap units and feeds on them for combat bonuses, and one that is made of candle beings who are powerful, but melt away. Okay, the real reason is that each time you play, you’re choosing a main faction (each has 2 champions to use from) and a secondary faction (you don’t get their champion, but you get access to their pool of cards). This makes each run feel unique and makes the game feel endlessly replayable. Even after unlocking all of the factions and their cards, and winning a run on the hardest challenge setting with each faction, I’m still playing Monster Train.

3. Spiritfarer

If Kentucky Route Zero is my “It’s Not You, It’s Me” game this year, Spiritfarer might be my “Love at First Sight” game of the year. The game’s striking visuals grabbed my attention immediately when I first saw the trailer at E3 2019, and it was billed as a game about saying goodbye. My only reservation was that it was coming from Thunder Lotus Games, whose previous titles (Jotun and Sundered) both fell flat for me.

Spiritfarer ended up being everything I was hoping for. You play as the newly-appointed ferryperson for the boat that transports souls from the land of the living to the land of the dead. Your ship acts as your base of operations, and you build living quarters, a kitchen, a forge, and lots of other facilities on it. The beings who join you on your ship are anthropomorphized animals, each with their own story. Your job is to help them be at peace, then send them to the next life once they’re ready. 

In practical terms, you’re spending a lot of your time sailing from island to island to talk to people and find resources. There’s a plenty of crafting and time sinks in the game, and I appreciated the excuse to luxuriate in this game world. No game made me cry this year, but Spiritfarer (Alice’s story in particular) sure did try. It was the perfect respite for the nightmare that was 2020.

2. Yakuza: Like a Dragon

A lot of Yakuza fans were concerned over this game’s switch from the series’ usual brawling combat to turn-based RPG combat. I was not one of them. Everything about this game sounds like the sort of fan fiction someone like, well, like me would come up with on a late night drunken bender. “What if it was Yakuza, but like, JRPG battles? Why would that happen.....OH oh oh what if the main character was a big fan of DRAGON QUEST so he just, like, saw the world in those terms? You could have party members, and a Pokedex of all the weirdo scumbags you fight, and you could change jobs by going to a temp agency!”

All of that is in Yakuza: Like a Dragon. And I love it. The series’ producer says they decided to pivot to a turn-based combat system after positive reaction to an April Fools Day Yakuza RPG joke they put online. And there are some rough spots. Your party members get caught on the world’s geometry sometimes, and combatants are constantly milling around so AOE abilities feel like a crap shoot. The Yakuza series has always had about 30% too much combat, so translating it into a genre known for grindy gameplay feels like a perfect storm of sorts. Thankfully, I’m a fan of grindy RPG’s so all of this is directly in my wheelhouse.

This eighth game in the Yakuza series is the first with a new protagonist - goodbye Kiryu Kazuma, hello Ichiban Kasuga. Where Kiryu was very stoic, Ichiban is a hothead with the perfect mix of kindness, earnestness, and stupidity for a JRPG hero. He is an incredibly likeable and charismatic character, and I hope Ryu Go Gotoku Studio tightens up the battle system and keeps this iteration of the series running.

1. Hades

Hades seemed like a slam dunk. My favorite studio was making an action RPG based on Greek mythology. The announcement was the best possible version of “AND you can play it right now!” I bought it (in early access) immediately and played it a bit, but I didn’t want to burn out on it so I only briefly checked in on it every few months. As a result, my hype was pretty low when the game reached its 1.0 release. 

Once I decided to fully engage with the game though, I was unable to put it down. SuperGiant’s games have the best writing, music, and voice acting in the business. That’s a pretty high bar to aim for, and they hit it once again with Hades. Both of their post-Bastion games (Transistor and Pyre) are games that I have to recommend with an asterisk though; the gameplay parts of each game is an acquired taste and will put some folks off. 

Hades, however, I can give a full throated recommendation for. The gameplay is tight and the combat feels good. There’s a lot of variety in the weapons, so you can either find one that fits your style and stick with it, or do what I did and change it up every run. They also managed to achieve something incredible - they largely took the sting out of losing in a run-based game. There are things to unlock between runs as you’d expect from a roguelite. I found myself enjoying chatting with the denizens of hell as much as the moment to moment action gameplay. I’d respawn back home and make my rounds, taking to people and spending my cash. I had a route I’d travel each time, and that route ended with Skelly in the weapons room. Oh, the gauntlets grant a bonus if I use them this time....the door to start a new run is just right over there....okay I can do one more run tonight.

That personality and dialogue is sprinkled throughout the runs themselves too, in the form of the various Greek gods you talk to and get boons from. The variety in weapons and boons give the game tremendous replayability and give the game a deckbuilding feel. Every character in the game is incredibly well developed and well-acted. Zagreus is a likeable and relatable protagonist. He wants to get away from his disapproving father and find his estranged mother, and he and his father can’t see eye to eye. 

The story and gameplay in Hades do equal lifting, the game is an incredibly complete package. The game also provided a couple of the most memorable moments of the year. Hades might just be SuperGiant’s best game. It’s certainly their most complete game. 

*It’s very much on the lighter side of this gameplay style, akin to 2019′s Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order. Plus there are difficulty settings, which I appreciate.

**Invisible Inc, Dragon’s Dogma, and The Outer Wilds come to mind.

***Final Fantasy VII Remake is only the first installment in a series

****Cloaked in shame and failure.

[fanficfreekspn]

1-1: Meet Lily (2)

     ☙❶❧  |   ☙❷❧  |   ☙❸❧  |   ☙❹❧

Later that night, Sam sat at the table of their motel room and did his own research on Redcaps as Dean stared off at the wall. "You know, for everything she did tell us, there's so much she didn't."

"Something tells me this case won't be the last time we'll see Lily. She's a natural-born hunter."

"I just have a nagging feeling in my gut that we're going to end up knowing her dad."

"She doesn't want to know him. Don't push it."

"I think Charlie would like her," he changed the subject. "They'd probably geek out on technology..."

"I think Charlie'd geek out on her," he chuckled.

"Okay, it says here that the word 'faeries' refers to the fae themselves while the word sidhe refers to their homes, kingdoms, residences or specifically the faerie mounds; The afterlife."

"You're looking her up?" he turned and waited.

"It says here that Faeries have numerous powers, being supernatural creatures, but not all Faeries have the same powers, or can wield them with the same strength. The Heroic Faeries have nearly complete control over time and space, whereas the smallest of the rustic Faeries are at the mercy of their human captors. Even so, it can be dangerous to anger even the weakest of Faeries, because one power they all share is the ability to bestow continual good fortune on those who please them or do them favors, and continual bad luck on those who upset them.

"Another power all Faeries share is glamour, the magic of illusion, whereby they can make people see whatever they wish them to see, or not see whatever they do not wish them to see. The aristocrats can create whole kingdoms with this power, whereas the smallest rustics can at least become invisible. Akin to this is the ability to mislead people by hiding or changing the appearance of familiar landmarks, or disguising treacherous ground to make it appear safe. Shape-shifting is also based on this power, and most Faeries have the ability to transform themselves into any form they desire, or to make themselves appear as tiny or as huge as they wish."

"So the way we see her might not be what she looks like at all? No wonder she's kept under the radar for so long," Dean opened his second beer before looking over his brother's shoulder. "Most Faeries also have some control over the weather and the seasons. At the very least, they can cause blight on plants and illness in animals and humans. In fact, Faeries can cause illness, injury, and even death using the "Faerie stroke", a kind of weapon that they can direct at an enemy. Similarly, however, Faeries can also heal injuries and cure the sick when they wish to."

"Among themselves, Faeries adhere to an extremely strict code of conduct that forbids dishonesty and stealing. Only infidelity is generally tolerated, being as Faeries are notorious for being amorous. With regards to humans, however, they seem to believe they are entitled to take whatever they need. Yet Faeries become furious if humans steal from them, and while they delight in playing tricks on people, when the joke is on them they usually do not take it in good humor. As well, even among the good Faeries, their kindness is often capricious, and their goodwill can be embarrassing, even distressing; it is not unusual for Faeries to enrich a friend by stealing from his neighbors. And there is very little mercy mingled with their justice."

"I'm not sure any of this applies to a half-faerie though," Dean sat on the edge of his bed.

"Apparently, Faeries need to invigorate themselves with human blood — i.e., genetic material; Faeries are not vampires — from time to time to keep from losing their powers. Men taken by fairy women are used as lovers, though their use for stud cannot be ruled out," Sam looked up. "It doesn't make sense. Why would her mother use a human man as a stud and then not keep the child? She could have been raised as a fairy and by all accounts be a fairy."

"Like I said... gut is a-churning."

"Ahh. Found it. Perhaps the most unusual interaction between humans and Faeries is the Faerie bride phenomenon. This is when a human man takes a Faerie woman to be his wife. Though a paternalistic concept — virtually the only time a human woman takes a Faerie husband is when he kidnaps her — the marriages seldom end happily: at some point, the Faerie wife leaves and returns to her people, abandoning not only her husband, but any children as well. Even so, the children seldom suffer, unless at the hands of their fathers, because many inherit some of their mothers' power, and often the mothers grant them gifts as well."

"That pretty well sums up what she told us in a nutshell," Dean sighed. "What's that last paragraph? I saw the word 'sex.'"

Sam smirked at his brother. "That humans are kidnapped for recreational sex should not come as a surprise. Faeries are, of course, the patrons of fertility, and sex is intimately coupled to fertility. As such, Faerie amorousness is legendary, and it isn't limited to the Trooping Faeries. Wild Faerie men often try to seduce or lure women into their dwellings, and they will extort human men into surrendering their wives or daughters to them, or blackmail human women into living with them. Others will rape women who spy on them, though most of the time they can mesmerize the women to keep them from resisting. Many wild Faerie women use sex as a form of punishment for infringing on their privacy, and their love-making is so intense few men can survive it, and those who do pine away and die."

"Wow," Dean's mouth dropped open. "I am really feeling the need to peek in on Miss Lily and see what she does in her down time."

"Agreed," Sam slapped his laptop closed.

.

Lily sat at the bar and stared at the shot of Deanston Highland Single Malt Whiskey and sighed before taking a drink. As she placed the glass on the bar, a smile curled to her lips and two bodies sat on either side of her. "I take it I've piqued your interest?"

"Immensely," Dean looked at her drink before looking up at the bartender. "I'll have what she's having."

She looked up at him. "It's $330 bottle."

"What is it?" Sam nearly choked on his tongue.

"The Deanston distillery in Scotland sits eight miles from historic Stirling on the banks of the River Teith. Every bottle is aged at least 12 years and it's one of the best Scotch whiskies in the world."

"So you stay super-caffeinated in the day and whiskey up at night?" Dean watched her.

She nodded silently before looking up at the bartender. "My treat."

They watched as the bartender slowly poured two more glasses and licked their lips in anticipation.

Dean took a sip before pulling the glass back and looking into it. "That is... so smooth."

"Wow," Sam smiled. "I'll never be able to drink Red Label again."

"You have questions," she turned to Dean. "It's understandable, and probably why I've never told anyone about my past. I'm still struggling to figure out why I did this time."

"Is this," he waved his hand, "what you really look like?"

"No," she answered plainly. "My mother is Neimh of the Golden Hair. My name means 'white lily.' I chose the dark hair of my father to blend in better."

"You're snow white?" Dean's eyes widened.

"No," she laughed. "White also means blessed. I usually don't feel very blessed, though, so I choose to associate with the white."

"Blend in... are you hiding?" Sam asked her.

She frowned as she looked down at her drink. "I am descended from royalty. My mother kept me away from the fae, had me raised as human for a purpose. I'm not sure what that purpose is."

"Have you ever kidnapped for recreational sex?" Dean blurted out as his eyes widened.

"Dean!" Sam scolded him.

"It's fine," she spoke slowly. “No.”

“That is not what I meant to say,” he apologized.

She watched him for a moment. ”Fae or not, when I am amongst kin we cannot lie."

"But I lied to you just fine when I told you my name was Agent Nugent," Dean corrected her.

"I knew it was a lie, and it didn't matter. You knew I wasn't Pat Benatar. We knew the truth," she turned to Sam. "Tell me a lie."

"You are..." he struggled with his words, "really weird."

She burst into laughter as Dean's eyes widened. "Really, Sam?"

"You can't do it," she drank down the rest of her glass.

"So what, we can't lie to one another, you seem to have a huge desire to tell us your life's story, and that makes us relation?"

"It's the only explanation," she threw down $200 and slid off her barstool.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sam grabbed her arm.

"I need to think on this, I'm a little freaked out," her eyes widened as she realized that she had spoken the truth. With that, she turned and walked out.

Dean and Sam turned to their glasses, tipped their heads back, and walked off to follow her.

.

The two watched her get into a black 1965 Ford Mustang GT and drive off as Dean started the Impala and followed her.

"That is a beauty," Sam gazed over the car.

"The Little Deuce Coupe," Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek. "So what, a cousin?"

"Depends on which side we're related. Dad was an only child, and his dad before him."

"So a Campbell then? Figures, she'd be a cousin from the douchy side of the family."

"Yeah, but she said her dad had dark hair," Sam picked at his fingernails.

"No... Seriously? Again?" he rolled his eyes. "Man!"

"Maybe not, we don't know."

"I knew my gut was churning for a reason, Sam!"

"She looks nothing like Adam..."

"She looks however she wants us to see her," he hissed as he turned a corner. "A sister?"

"As of this minute, the only proof we have is that we're somehow related. Deep breaths, brother. We still have a case..." he stopped talking as they pulled into the parking lot of their motel. They watched as Lily got out of her car and walked up to the door to the left of theirs.

Dean took a deep breath and parked before jumping out and making it to their door.

"Are you kidding me?" she turned around.

"Freaky Friday," he cleared his throat.

"We didn't plan this," Sam held his hands up.

"I know," she whispered. "I don't believe in coincidences either."

"Why don't we all get some sleep and worry about how we're going to track this Redcap in the morning? Work comes first," Dean suggested.

She nodded her agreement. "I'm going to go over my crime scene and evidence photos to see if there's anything that might have attached him to these people."

"We'll check police blotter to see if there's another victim and try to track his route," Sam offered.

"Sounds good," she looked between them. "Although I probably won't get much sleep."

"Try," Dean urged her as they all turned to walk into their rooms.

Chapter 3>

[sinkingorswimming]

‘Til We Let the Spectrum In: a companion to ‘Til I Tear The Walls, ‘Til I Save Your Heart

For the amnesty week of @knockyuuriupweek: prompt of “labor/labor induction.” Stands alone primarily, though knowledge of the Ballad of Tam Lin may help. The prior story can be found here on AO3.

It wasn’t just that Victor had to adjust to the march of time since his imprisonment in the roses. He also had to help with marriage arrangements and the complications of his sweet one’s pregnancy.

Doctor Nishigori forbids his love any strenuous activity after Samhain, and so he spends much of his days reclining in bed or on a chaise in the library with Minako assisting in his education as always. Lady Katsu--Okaasan brings Yuuri soothing teas and carefully prepared meals, which Victor lovingly feeds him until the day Yuuri slaps the spoon out of his hand and berates him about his hatred of coddling.

(Upon retiring to their chambers---yes theirs, as Otousan wryly points out since the question of Yuuri’s purity is quite settled, to be sure---Yuuri sheds tears with loud hiccups, ashamed and apologetic. Victor kisses him, stroking his back until he sleeps, watching his bethrothed slumber with diamonds in his eyes as he tries his best to love him.)

On occasion, Victor takes Yuuri on a slow, small walk by the hothouse. At first the perfumes of the different flora trigger Yuuri’s nausea, but after a few months it abates so he can enjoy his family’s efforts once more.

Once a week, Victor has the horticulturist make Yuuri an arrangement, bringing him this small boon as a sign of his suit. They always avoid red roses by unspoken agreement, but one particular bouquet with the red camellias so prized by the Katsukis strangely moves Yuuri to the point of tears.

Minako pulls Victor aside before afternoon tea to explain their meaning sotto voce. Victor then reserves them for anniversaries, his birthday in the late autumn, and the celebration of St. Valentine.

The wedding happens as promised, their families united by the sacred and legal bond. Cousin Mila, with all the brightness of Polaris in her smile, introduces a dark-haired beauty as her companion, Lady Sara Crispino of the Southern Crispinos. Lady Sara is just as pleased, her lilac gloved hands and amethyst collier matching her unique eye color.

The wedding is successful, the party the talk of the nation for years, and Victor adjourns with Yuuri to one of his family’s estates, a seaside castle with a golden gate. The marriage chambers have fur blankets and a roaring fire, and Victor presents Yuuri a token that belonged to his late mother. 

It is a necklace of molten gold and black opals that remind Victor of the sky under which they met. It is meant solely as a dowery, but when Victor takes a moment to gather the mulled, spiced wine for their nightcaps, he returns to his sweet one draped in front of the fire in the necklace and nothing else, not even his spectacles.

(”We shouldn’t---Doctor Nishigori---” Victor weakly protests, because Yuuri is beautiful, somehow more than the first time ever he saw his face, more than the night he saved his mortal soul.

“I’m not waiting almost half a year for a proper cunsummation of our marriage,” Yuuri offers with a frown. “I asked Yuuko---if we take steps to move carefully, all will be well.”

How is Victor to refuse such an offer? Only a fool would lack the sense to reject such a suggestion, and it has been too long his passion could only simmer below the surface, threatening to ignite in the evenings upon retirement to the solitude of their bed. 

Victor is full of longing, and thus Victor gives in.

He gives in half of every week’s nights without fail thereafter.)

Time passes so quickly that Yuuri becomes round like a hot air balloon with back pain and difficulty sleeping. He walks more, and before they know it, the third phase draws close.

Nishigori has arranged for a surgery when the time comes to safely birth the baby. He and his wife take up residence in the guest cottage as Yuuri may begin his labor pains any day and the village is too long a coach ride for such an urgent event.

Two days before the official date, Yuuri asks to be drawn a hot bath midday. It is done, and as he undresses to sink into the water, something causes him to call for Victor.

Victor enters to find Yuuri in only his shirt holding his trousers and small clothes.  The groin area on both have been soaked through with clear and red fluids. Victor stares at Yuuri with a sense of escalating panic. 

“Victor---” Yuuri manages with a supernatural calm. “Victor. Get the Nishigoris.”

Victor cannot move, rooted to the floor like he was a field of enchanted blossoms.

“Victor!” Yuuri snaps. “Go!”

This springs him to action, Victor breaking a land speed record to reach the cottage, all but destroying it like a puff from a big bad wolf. “Yuuri---baby---time---” he manages before sprinting back.

Yuuri, with no care for his mostly nude state, has lain by the bed on the floor. He groans, and the husband and wife time gently place him on their bed. Nurse Nishigori has a watch, and she focuses on it as Yuuri lets loose a bray, breathes, then does it again.

“This is fast,” she says. “Your labor pains are only five minutes apart.” She smiles. “Your child is eager to meet you both.”

Victor wrings his hands then takes the back steps two at a time, begging the cook for aid. After what feels like years, he is given an almost over-flowing cauldron of boiled water. 

Yuuri’s cousin, Phichit, hears the commotion. “Has the time arrived?”

“Get linens,” Victor instructs. “They’ll be needed.”

Phichit does so without a question or complaint, the two of them bursting into the rooms with nods to the Lord and Lady Katsuki as well as Minako who wait outside. 

Doctor Nishigori has given Yuuri a low sedative, it appears as he moans in sleep. “I have brought boiled water and towels as well as old sheets!” Victor declares.

Nishigori pays him no mind, but his wife favors Victor with a blank stare. “That’s...very good, Victor,” she says with audible confusion. “Set them out of the way.”

Phichit obeys---Victor does not. He cannot because he sees the size of the scalpel being employed for the cesarian, and immediately collapses to the ground in a spell.

In addition to Minako’s palm impacting with his cheek, the sounds of a baby’s cries rouse him from unconsciousness. “He’s fine,” is all he gets from the governess as she helps him into a standing position. When he has reoriented, he sees a proud doctor and midwife, a beaming young Lord Chulanont, and---

Yuuri, now half-awake and his arms full of a wriggling infant with tufts of jet black hair on the crown of their head. Victor silently weeps as he sits on Yuuri’s side. Yuuri is tired and wan in a precarious position aided by a large pile of pillows. His stomach is surely sore and weak from the incisions. He favors Victor with a smile and wet eyes. “Meet your son.”

“Perfection, the both of you,” Victor assures him with a kiss on the cheek. He strokes the boy’s hair---it is exactly as Yuuri’s. There is no doubt he is theirs, Victor believes as he takes in the insistent Nikiforov cheekbones and mouth. 

After everyone greets the new little one and someday heir to both fortunes, they are left alone with their son. He begins to fuss and Yuuri feeds him like any mother would, though they have not decided to have the child use such a title.

A fire is stoked for them, and while a nursery has been made with the typical trappings, for now he is too young to sleep down the hall. There is an elegant bassinet close to their bed, and Victor holds him as he rocks him to sleep until an early morning feeding.

Yuuri watches him with love. A sudden gust causes a window to blow open, and Victor puts the baby in the bassinet and then closes it. His back is to Yuuri and their baby, but he hears Yuuri shout a warning.

Victor turns, and in the dim light, four pairs of eyes glow: one green like a barn cat, one blue like midsummer lightning, the third a different shade of blue like bioluminsecent fish, and the final pair simply reflect like a polished piece of obsidian.

The darkness clears and Victor grabs the fire poker. “Leave this place,” he orders the four fae men.

“We are not here to take the child or cause you pain,” the black eyed man whose cloak has a bear fighting an eagle embroided in gold says.

“We come bearing gifts,” says the dark blue-eyed man, tall and in a regal shimmering purple befitting of a king.

“There are no tricks or deceptions, and we do not require anything in return,” the blue eyed man clad in the colors of an oil spill that has mixed with water.

“Let us grant these boons, and we shall vanish,” says the youngest, a towheaded changeling boy in white and feathers.

Yuuri is scared and determined as he was on Samhain, but Victor spent over half a century as one of their kind. They cannot refuse lest they risk insulting them. 

Noting frightens Victor worse than insulting the Queen of Air and Darknesses court. “Do as you will,” he says.

“Victor---” Yuuri begins, but the look in Victor’s eyes makes him quiet.

The fae gather around the baby. The black eyed man is first. “To you, child, I bestow wisdom and the willingness to work hard, completing all tasks with grace and strength.” 

Ebony and gold light glimmer onto their son.

The violet king is next. “To you, child, I bestow confidence, charm, and song, so that you may never forget your noble heart.”

Emerald and aubergine sparks cover the baby.

The shimmering witch goes third. “To you, child, I bestow passion, empathy, and a great desire to love, as well as the necessary objectivity so you do not lose sight of your own self.”

Several shades of blue glimmer on the baby’s skin.

Finally, the last gift. “I bestow upon you, child, your father’s courage, your other father’s devotion, and their combined loyalty and truth. May these never fade or dim, no matter the adversity you face.”

Silver and yellow cover the baby. 

The quartet bow as they vanish, the window blowing open a second time in spite of being latched. Yuuri shuts it this time, and when he finishes, he clings to Victor, both of them trembling as they look at the inkling dark to ensure they do not return.

They do not.

After deliberation, they name the baby Sora, for when his eyes open they are Victor’s color with Yuuri’s shape, like a shimmering, windy sky. He grows healthy and handsome, beloved by all he meets. He is kind and wise beyond his years, hardworking and gentle to Vicchan and upon the small dog’s final breaths, a larger poodle they name Makkachin. 

He flourishes and grows, and the fae are true to their word...though sometimes if Victor is out with Sora alone on the grounds, he senses someone observing them to only find a yellow striped cat with green eyes.

He brushes it away, and basks in the joy of his son and sweet one.

[gingerbreadbooks2020]

Bookblr post #21

{Part one!}

I woke up late today, so I haven’t been very productive. Despite that, it’s March 28th and I’m cosied in bed with some peppermint tea and my copy of Faeries, Elves and Goblins!

[Images above:

Top left image: title page for The Goblins and The Sprites, from England. The left page has an illustration of a sprite, I think, standing on a twig to the left. To the right of him is a small mouse with a scarf. Below the mouse on a separate twig is a patchwork quilt.

Top right: Dealings Between Faeries And Mortals. Below is an old Scottish Grace spoken before meals, translated from Gaelic from the 19th century. Below that is a paragraph that gives a general description of faeries.

Second row, left: title page for The Faery Borrower, from Scotland. The left page is an illustration of a group of dogs, all angry looking, stood behind three trees in the foreground of the image.

Second row, right: The title page for The King of France’s Daughter. The left page has an illustration of a princess in a long white dress with a peach petticoat walking through a field with orange trees in the background. At the top is a group of faeries sitting on a small branch.

Third row, left: title page for Flitting, from England. The left page is an illustration of a bedroom. The curtained bed in the back has a man and woman sitting up, peering out into the floor, where a goblin is walking around in the man’s shoes!

Third row, middle: a closer image of the illustration of the goblin wearing the man’s shoes. He seems to be laughing to himself mischievously!

Third row, right: an illustration spread across two pages; a silhouette of a horse-drawn carriage piled with basic furniture (eg chairs, table, dresser) and some plants in pots. In the carriage are a man, woman, and two children.

Bottom left: title page for A Box of Faeries, from Scotland. The left page is an illustration of a man playing the flute with swarms of faeries around him.

Bottom right: An illustration of a faery carrying a stick of heather about twice its height! These images are all my own.]

Unfortunately, I can only post 10 images per post, so I’ll make a part two! I read quite a bit this evening! This will probably be quite a lengthy post.

The first story is called The Goblin and The Sprites and is a tale from England. In it, a goblin who lives in a black water bog steals Carrier John’s money and brandy when returning from the market, where he had been selling his neighbours goods. Carrier John returns home, and with his wife’s help, they fashion more goods to sell at the market, earning back more money than before and allowing him to buy four kegs of brandy, as opposed to the original three, which the Squire had asked him to buy for him. However, luckily for the Carrier, the Sprites has remembered his good deed from earlier in the tale, where he had saved a sprite’s baby from drowning at the hands of the goblin. The sprites found the three kegs of brandy, but when they pushed the goblin into the bog, he took the money with him.

The next chapter was a collection of Dealings Between Faeries and Mortals. Some were quite dark and ended badly, others started bad and ended positively. They all, however, let the reader know the mischief the faeries can get up to, and what mistakes not to make!

The next story was The Faery Borrower, from Scotland. Everyday, a Faery came to a woman’s house and asked, in rhyme, to borrow the lady’s kettle (which I believe means a big stewing pot!). Knowing the tricks of the Fae, the woman returns, in rhyme, that the kettle is considered stolen unless it’s returned full. And so, the Faery takes the kettle every morning and returns it every evening full of bones and fresh meat. One day, however, the lady has to go away for the day and entrusts her husband to give the faery the kettle. Her husband, instead, ignores this, and the kettle is stolen by the faery. When she returns, the lady is extremely irritated by her husband, and sets out to steal her kettle back. On her way back she’s chased by a gang of dogs, and she has to throw her kettle at them in order to get back safely. Luckily she is able to get it back the next morning, but the faery never came back to borrow the kettle.

After that was The King of France’s Daughter, from Ireland. A young boy is near an old fort, wishing for a better life, when he hears chanting. He joins in, seeing an army of faeries upon horses in wonderful armour. He joins them, and follows them as the ride across the countryside and then over the sea. He helps them rescue the daughter of the French king, but when they get back to Ireland he steals her for himself after seeing how beautiful she is. The faeries make her dumb - mute - but the boy takes her to the priest. He spends time with her everyday, but one night visits the fort to confront the faeries for what they did. He overhears them discussing how easily he could cure her. He rushes to do so and, when she is finally able to talk, they confess their love and marry that moment. It was pretty cute, plus at least they’d actually spent time together before admitting true love, unlike some other stories *cough cough* Tam Lin.

I next read Flitting, a tale from England. In it, a goblin resides in a house and spends his days messing with the family, like pulling off bedcovers in the middle of the night and opening all the windows, or pouring their porridge down their shirts. The family get irritated at this to the point that they decide they have to move house - flitting. But some way into the journey, they realise the goblin has some with them. Realising that they can’t escape him, they return to their old cottage, which they prefer, and simply ignore the goblin until he leaves of his own accord.

The last one I could fit on this post was A Boz of Faeries, from Scotland. A man is courting a woman, but she always takes ages deciding if she does or doesn’t want to properly be with someone. The man doesn’t mind, and he only lives two miles from her - as the raven flies. However, he has to cross a deep firth in order to get to her house. Someone advises him to see the wich, who gives him a mysterious box. She warns him not to open it until he gets to see the laird, who can control what’s in the box. The man, obviously, does not heed her word, and opens it. He’s met with a flurry of worker faeries, who keep bothering him and asking for jobs. In order to properly make them leave him alone, he has them construct a bridge made of sand between his house and the lady’s house. When the tide comes in though, the bridge is immediately destroyed, meaning the faeries have to keep rebuilding it, and therefore they never bother him again.

Ok, that’s all I can do for this post! Part two will be up in a short while!

- Gingerbread ♤

[irkallanprince]

The Blood Feast

A local shopkeep tries to convince a wealthy man to marry off their children and gets more than he bargained for. 

Warnings: Mention of sex, cult activity, slavery, and ritual murder

All Hallows Eve

Wells, Maine; 1858

The March Halloween ball was now a tradition in the town of Wells. Noblemen from all over the state would come just to partake in the yearly harvest festival, decked in their finest fashions for the world to see. It was an event that was written in the papers for miles around, not to be missed. And really, what else was there to do in this day and age except lie in wait for some mysterious disease to take you into the night?

The party was thrown by Josiah March, whose family had immigrated from Ireland two generations ago and brought with them many tales of whimsy. Of the Jack O’Lantern carved into turnips. Of the harrowing tales of the Banshee and mean-spirited fae, and how not respecting these creatures could have affected the harvest for the year. His family believed in the fickleness of these higher beings, and he didn’t fall far from the tree. Though he lived with his only son, Thaddeus.  A man with dark skin and green eyes whose parentage was looked down upon by many of the whitefolk, even if their daughters could not look away from his angelic face. An affair with one of his slaves was the story, though nobody quite knew which. But Josiah was the richest man in town, and the kindest, and a man that took care of his people the way Josiah did deserved some slack. So people were kind to Thaddeus, even if some would call him a ‘negro’ behind his back. Nobody needed to know.

And yet those same two faced people would be the exact people to throw their unwed daughters at the young man who never seemed to show interest. He would always be staring out the window. Staring over the balcony. Staring elsewhere. As if he was longing for a life that wasn’t his own. They tried to convince him to marry their daughters. They would always fail. Something was not right with that boy. And yet his father never cared. He was always laughing and entertaining everyone else. He knew people wanted his fortune. Oddly enough he didn’t care. He seemed to want to provide even.

There were those that would take advantage of this care for the greater good of Wells. Like Barnaby Hampton, owner of the general store. He was never happy with his lot in life. Wife died at childbirth making way for his beautiful sixteen year old daughter Saffron. These days the store wasn’t in the greatest shape. He only came to this party to strike a deal with Josiah. Convince him to marry Thaddeus and Saffron so that his financial struggles would end. He may have been an unlucky man that was barely keeping his head above the water but he was also convincing and charming. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he wasn’t.

His luck just so happened to change tonight. Josiah agreed to meet with him. As the party continued on outside, Josiah ushered him into his office, offering him a seat across his grand cherry oak desk. He sat in front of him with his hands crossed atop the desk as he offered a warm smile to the shopkeep that seemed devoid of any ill intent. He was after all the most charitable man in the state.

“You would do anything for your daughter, wouldn’t you?” Josiah said with a knowing glance. Barnaby just gave a half confused look, then smiled and nodded to play along. He was moreso worried for himself and <i>his</i> own future, but he supposed that included his daughter in a way.

“Y-yes, of course sir.”

“What if I told you that your daughter could grow up to be one of the richest women in the state? Hell, the country?” Josiah raised an eyebrow, a wide smile plastered across his face as if he knew he was about to change this family’s life. Barnaby just leaned forward, nodding his head in excitement. He wanted this. He <i>needed</i> this.

“So you agree? You would sacrifice anything for this?” Josiah continued.

“Yes sir.”

Josiah just smiled and stood before pulling on a light fixture on his wall. The book case behind his desk opened up to a staircase.  

“I always have a more exclusive party the night of All Hallow’s Eve concurrent to the festivities outside. I have some people I’d like you to meet. But first…” He leaned down and offered him a quill, pointing to a dotted line on a document in front of him. Barnaby signed without ever having read it.

“Good. Follow me please.” Josiah grinned, leading the way down a stone spiral staircase that led into a cold, dark tunnel below, lit only by firelight in the sconces on the wall. They walked in the echoing dark for a few moments before they reached a large set of double doors.

“This is going to be the celebration of your life. Prepare yourself.” He smirked before he pressed the doors open.

When they walked into the room, it was the most obscene yet opulent party he’d ever seen. Women in large gowns with masks covering their faces, yet their breasts were exposed as they danced around the floor. Couples performing the lewdest of acts in the dark corners while others laughed and drank wine as they watched. There was a large banquet table with fruit and drink on either side, but a big empty space in the middle.

“Wow. Just in time for the main course?” Barnaby asked. Josiah pat him on the back.

“Precisely.” He grinned. A woman came up to him in a full petticoat with an intricate face mask and cherry lips, breasts bare as the day she was born. She ran a finger down his chubby chest and giggled.

“We don’t often see new faces at these parties. This is exciting.” She grinned from ear to ear, noticing the older man staring at her chest.

“Touch them if you’d like.” She insisted. The shopkeep grew heavy with his breath and nodded, hands coming up and squeezing them like they were two mounds of bread dough. He almost didn’t notice the handkerchief come to his mouth before it was too late.

When he awoke he was laying down. The lights were very dim and nobody was laughing anymore. He looked around through his bleary drug addled eyes and saw dozens of people gathered, standing in a circle around where he lay. But their faces… they were all wearing masks now. Goat masks. Chanting in a language he didn’t understand. And one man in the middle, naked save for the goat mask that was more intricate than all the others with a ceremonial knife of some sort in one hand and an old book in the other.

Barnaby panicked, but he could not move. He was strapped to the table.

“Please! Oh please let me go! This Halloween trick has gone on far enough!” He begged from where he writhed. The naked man turned and his goat head tilted. A voice boomed out. One that he recognized.

“But you said you’d sacrifice anything for your daughter to have a wonderful life. You even signed your soul away to our gods for it.”

“I-I-I thought you meant she’d marry your son! I didn’t think you’d… do whatever this is.”

“The contract is binding. Your soul belongs to the Lords of Irkalla now. Almighty Nergal and Beautiful Ereshkigal. Every year until the sixteenth year of the second millenia, we feast on the blood of man, until our lords can successfully reclaim the Earth to their unholy domain. So it is written.”

“Wh...w-w-what are you talking about? Are you sacrificing me to Satan?”

The crowd laughed uproariously as the main goat-man approached, running a hand along his tubby chin.

“No. Something so much more than he.” Josiah said, as if trying to soothe him in his own way. He leaned down and spoke through the grotesque mouth hole of the now very apparently taxidermied goat head.

“We will keep our promises. Saffron will never want for anything again.” He cooed in a soft voice. Barnaby started to hyperventilate. He went to scream but found somehow he couldn’t. And next the knife went into his chest.

Once. Twice. Three times. Blood started rushing to his mouth as his lungs filled. Four. Five. Six times. The hole in his chest grew. Seven. Eight. Nine. Cracking. Bones cracking. Ten. Eleven. Twelve… Josiah reached in and ripped the heart from his chest, raising his mask so his mouth was visible. He bit into the heart as Barnaby’s vision faded for good.

“Let us commence with the feast.” He said to the room after swallowing the chunk of heart he bit off. The crowd closed in on the table, knives piercing, stabbing, and scraping as blood dripped to the floor.

Another successful Samhain Banquet for the Keepers of Irkalla. 157 more to go until they could serve their lords in person.

[sunnyditch]

The Lost Girl (re-written) history no one asked for.

New Lost Girl timeline: Before the dawn of humans history, there was a great conflict. God fae fought for dominion, and in their struggle created a variety of magical creatures to aid them in their battles. Eventually most of the God-fae have been killed or trapped in other dimensions, either by other brethren or by the new fae races that have come to power. All except Hades. He survived by trapping his kin in the underworld while on Earth he stirs up trouble, creating divisions among the newer races, to keep the fae from turning against him. Trick, being one of the first born of the newer races, is a powerful Fae King involved in the war that has been raging for hundreds of years when he finally uses his blood sage magic to force a peace between the fae races in order to save his wife, but in doing so creates a permanent schism of “Dark” and “Light” with his Blood Laws. His wife is killed before his power takes effect but he abides by the laws and accepts the head of the Dark fae the newly formed Dark claim is responsible for her death. But the Blood Laws themselves anger several fae races, including Hades, who knows that once the fae settle into their new reality, he’ll be in danger of their combined strength. Hades convinces the fae that a “council” of fae volunteers need to be created to enforce the laws, the Una Mens, and insists that the man responsible for the Laws join them. He offers the parapus seeds and sending deception Trick only pretends to take the seed to make him one of the council. The unbalanced Una Mens, under the influence of Hades, then start taking extreme measures against fae that fail to declare themselves or break the rules in other ways. Hades then befriends Rainer, a rebellious young fae that has a power that could actually rival Trick’s and defeat him, undoing the fae laws forcing the peace. Rainer is also Aife’s love, which Trick doesn’t approve of. The Una Mens extreme measures against the fae spurs Rainer on to declare war against the Blood King and the Una Mens and he seeks Hades aide to defeat them. Hades agrees but asks in return for Rainer’s soldiers to swear fealty to him. Eager to be rid of the Laws, they all agree. Rainer, leading an army of fae now unaligned to any side, battle against Trick and his forces, and as he’s about to win and take Trick’s castle, Trick once again uses his Blood Magic to write Rainer out of all history, condemning him to the Death Train. However, Rainer knew this was going to happen. After his soldiers swore themselves to Hades, his power of foresight finally revealed to him Hades ultimate plan, which was to use the power of all his dead soldiers to feed himself so he could enslave all fae, and take Aife for his own. To prevent this Rainer sacrifices himself to keep him and his soldiers souls from Hades, but not before going to the Norn to ask to be reunited with Aife in his exile. She agrees, but says in return if he ever were to step foot off the train after reunited with Aife, his life would end 7 days afterwards unless he and the one who frees him marry. He assumes it will be Aife, so he agrees. What Rainer doesn’t realize is when he leaves the train it will also break Trick’s curse in whole and all the souls of his soldiers. But in the meantime, Rainer’s betrayal forces Hades to retreat into Hel and Trick is able to trap him there, thinking he rid himself of two foes, not realizing that Rainer was actually his ally in defeating the last God-fae.. With Rainer gone and no memory of him, Aife is overcome with grief and confusion because as a succubus her memory keeps trying to heal from Trick’s manipulations. She starts to obsess with her mother’s death at the hands of the Dark and decides to take matters into her own hands. Aife first goes to the Norn and asks for the power to kill the fae responsible and the Norn agrees, but asks for Aife’s sanity in return. Aife agrees. Unbeknownst to Aife, the Norn knew it was really Hades that killed her mother and that was the weapon she intended to create. She then offers Aife the Siracon. She finds the Dark Fae king that had ordered her mother’s death (a minion of Hades) and kills him and his entourage. But by the Laws she must be turned over to the Dark and Trick reluctantly does so. Despondent that no matter what he tries to do with his Blood Sage magic he keeps losing his loved ones, Trick uses his blood one last time and writes himself a new life as a regular working fae of the Light and the fae forget that Trick is The Blood King. Believing both his wife and daughter are dead, Trick wanders for some time, traveling the world, until finally coming back to his homeland and finding it under the rule of the Una Mens. He finds a loyal servant and friend in Dyson and together they travel to the new lands, hoping to put their misdeeds behind them. In the meantime, unbeknownst to Trick, the Dark kept Aife alive for Hades, waiting for when he has enough power to collect her and several other fae that fit a certain description, not knowing which fae woman Hades seeks. This includes Luann, an elemental that had been a part of Rainer’s forces but survived the battle and ended up a prisoner of the Dark as a traitor. Aife befriends Luann and they keep each other as safe as one can when stuck in Hel. But eventually Hades isolates Aife intending on having a child with her. Luann helps Aife escape and they end up on the Death Train. As an elemental, Luann knows she can get them off the train, but Aife is reluctant to leave because the Train is the only place she’s safe from Hades and she doesn’t want to leave Rainer, who at this point has none of his memories. They fall back in love regardless and all three stay on the train for a while until Aife discovers that she is pregnant but she doesn’t know if the child is Rainer’s or Hades. But Rainer knows that the child will kill Hades and Aife realizes that the child is the weapon the Norn promised. Months go by and the three eventually work out a plan. Bo is born on the train, (not in Hel). Rainer promises the baby the he will never let her face Hades alone, regardless of who her father is, claiming her as his kin. They agree that Aife and Luann have to leave the train, even though Aife will lose her memory of their time with him, and that Luann must hide Bo to keep her from the fae and Hades as long as possible. Rainer knows that eventually Aife will find Bo again and teach her to be strong. And that Bo will find him and free him from the train, setting Hades free and starting the battle in earnest, but he’s prepared for that as well. As an elemental Luann remembers everything so after hiding Bo she goes to Trick to tell him Aife is alive and has escaped and that she blames him for her imprisonment and torture. He tasks Dyson with finding Aife, only telling him that she’s a former subject that he failed, knowing it could be decades before she finally makes her play. Luann does not tell Trick about Bo, per Rainer and Aife’s commands. After they leave the train, even in his weakened state, Hades knows that a child walks the Earth that could destroy him, or finally give him everything he’s been planning for centuries. He calls for a Valkyrie that has a tendency to wander where she shouldn’t: Tamsin. Years earlier he caught her sneaking into Hel to retrieve her sister Nismat, whom she didn’t believe deserved to be cursed to that realm, and in return for letting her take Nismat to Valhalla, she promises him a future favor and now he demands she find for him a girl with both brown eyes and blue. She agrees. But the Queen of the Valkyries discovers what Tamsin has done and kicks her out of Valhalla until she’s earned her honor back. Tamsin becomes a mercenary. Bo grows up. Her human parents, warned by Luann that she was special and to keep her in line, worry for the day when Bo grows into her power, knowing they’ll have hard choices to make. So when Bo comes home completely freaked out to having found her boyfriend dead, they know the fae will come so they have to force her to leave, and kick her out. Unable to contact Luann, (who at this point is living with a human herself, expecting her first child), their only hope is to keep the fae from finding Bo, and the best way to do that is to not know where she is going. The fae send Vex. He tortures Bo’s father to death in front of her mother and then sets the Poly-fae as look out if Bo was to ever return. In the meantime, Lauren Lewis meets a girl while she’s in medical school. An impulsive photographer that convinces her to take a trip to Africa. Lauren doesn’t know it, but the real reason for the trip is that Nadia is aware of the fae and is hoping to expose them. But when she does find them, they’re sick and dying. While Lauren is working on a cure to help them, suddenly Nadia falls into a coma, seemingly inflicted with the same disease. Yet the cure Lauren discovers for the fae won’t work for her and she swears fealty to the Light in exchange for the resources to save Nadia. In exchange for her loyalty, they help her finish school and give her a career as a research scientist for their fae owned pharmaceutical company. Around this time, a very young Kenzi runs away for the final time. While on the run Bo discovers that she’s exceptionally strong and can heal from any wound after feeding. She fights to gain control over her powers but isn’t very successful, so she sticks to the seedier side of whatever town she ends up in so when the hunger comes upon her she can at least use it against someone deserving. Several times in her journeys however, she does find people she connects with and tries to lead a normal life with them, but in the end her power always overcomes her and she wakes up next to their corpses. She also hears rumors of other people with powers like her and not knowing her true origin, decides to try and track down anyone that might know about her true nature. Eventually she runs into Kenzi, saving her from a rapist, and the pair team up. A street wise Kenzi helps Bo organize whatever clues she has and the two realize that there have been a series of deaths with the same signature, moving across the country towards Fae-ronto, which both worries and pleases Kenzi since that’s where she’s from. After a very short time while in town Bo ends up killing again and Dyson and Hale catch the case. Dyson thinks it’s Aife and informs Trick. They find Bo and drag her to the Light where she claims she has no clan. When Evony shows up, Bo is forced to undergo an archaic fae ritual. Bo wins. Bo choses human. She is free to go, thanks to Trick’s intervention because as soon as he seers her he realizes she isn’t Aife. Once again reunited with Kenzi Bo is told by Dyson that the Ash hopes that she should just move on down the road, (something Dyson clearly doesn’t want as well), but Bo tells him she can’t because she’s been searching for the past 5 years for the truth about who and what she is and she’s been following someone like her. Dyson figures it’s Aife and tells Trick. It doesn’t take a genius for them to figure that Bo is hers, but not knowing what Aife’s plan is he tells Dyson to keep quiet. Aife is still a threat and Bo is part of her plan whether Bo knows it or not. Season one basically happens the same, with a few tweaks, such as it’s Taft’s lab that Bo and Lauren go undercover in and destroy, putting Lauren on his radar, and when Aife announces her presence and Trick finally tells Bo who he thinks Aife is to her, it becomes a race to get to Aife first. Aife wants to restart the war between the Light and Dark and it is Dyson’s job is to prevent that whether Bo likes it or not. Also, after what happened to Aife Trick has no desire to let the Dark get their hands on her first. This time however Trick finds out the Dark sent Vex to find and bring Aife to them. Bo doesn’t exactly trust either of them, or Trick’s motivation as he still hasn’t told her Aife is his daughter, so she tries to find her first. Aife, being batshit insane, is able to isolate Bo for their confrontation but both are then cornered by Vex and that’s when Dyson goes to the Norn to offer his strength to Bo. Aife and Bo are forced by Vex to continue their fight and Bo nearly pushes Aife off the stairwell, but she’s infused with Dyson’s strength and is able to stop from dropping her. Because Vex’s powers “can’t control an animal” Vex beats a hasty retreat. That his when Trick’s sigil, which means “remember love”, appears and the veil of insanity lifts, but not because she remembers Bo, but rather she remembers Rainer and everything between them, including their plan to protect Bo. She knows what has to happen next, so she forces Bo to let her fall. Seasons two, three, four, and five to come…