#her name is maevis

[antifa-furry-soldier]

I GOT A FURSUIT EEEEEE

[baylardian-1]

hmmmm i was kinda waffling on posting this but i will with the disclaimer that likeeeeeeeeeeee idk if im gonna go this route hahaha its just kinda been an indulgent hole ive been exploring for funzies with tardi. but it all feels really inorganic to me still lol

just wanted to design a lil cringe naenae next next gen baby teehee

[avatar-anna]

Before the Show

Young dad! Harry x Young mom! Reader

Harry rushed through the halls of Wembley Stadium, barely keeping track of the crew members he narrowly missed bumping into or the people who greeted him as he rushed by. It was a little less than an hour before the show, and though he should've been going through his pre-show routine of brushing his teeth and getting into his stage outfit and hanging out with the band, he was running around Wembley like a madman.

When he finally reached the right door, Harry skidded to a stop, breathing a huge sigh of relief before opening it.

"I got it!" he said, voice hushed as he tossed the stuffed animal.

Y/n caught it out of the air and rested it next to the sleeping figure on the couch. "You're an angel, Harry."

Harry waved his hand nonchalantly. "No problem. I'm just glad I made it back before she woke up."

They looked down at where Maeve was sleeping soundly on the couch of the dressing room, a separate one from Harry's, for no other reason than for him and Y/n to watch the kids in peace and have as little eyes on them as possible. Everyone on the Love on Tour crew was under strict NDAs, but Y/n did appreciate a little privacy when she had to change a diaper or put someone down for a nap. Harry's dressing room was right next door, but both of them found that an extra room for diaper bags, toys, and whatever else they needed that day came in handy.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, noticing the lack of children in what was basically Love on Tour's playroom.

"Simone, Collette, and Jules are with the band, and your mother is getting in some one on one time with the babies," Y/n said. "And now I'm debating staying in here with Maeve or just leaving the baby monitor on."

"Oh. Might not have to," Harry said, nodding toward the couch where their daughter's eyes were beginning to flutter.

Maeve rubbed her eyes sluggishly, looking around and trying to get her bearings. When her eyes landed on Harry, she stretched her arms out. He picked her up with ease, holding her close before standing up.

"Where's Pauli?" she mumbled.

Y/n quickly handed Harry the stuffed animal to give to Maeve. "Right here, peanut. Was with you the whole time," he said, giving Y/n a conspiratorial wink, which she rolled her eyes at.

Maeve took the stuffed unicorn and held it close before settling against Harry's chest again, her free hand reaching up to play with the hair curling around his ear.

"Pauli" was Maeve's stuffed animal, named after the person who gave it to her. When Harry brought it home one night, Harry told Maeve it was "from Pauli," but she thought Harry was telling her the unicorn's name, and so that's what everyone called it. Maeve never went anywhere without Pauli, which meant that anytime he got left at home or in a car seat, there was massive panic between Harry and Y/n.

"Why don't you let Mommy hold you, Maevie. Daddy has to get dressed for his big show," Y/n said, but even as she did, Harry could feel his daughter's little legs tighten around his waist. He knew he had to get ready for the show, but he secretly loved that Maeve didn't want to let go of him too.

"It's alright," he said to his wife. "Let's go find everyone, shall we, peanut?"

The three of them left the dressing room and went a couple doors down to where the band was supposed to be getting ready. Harry could hear a low hum coming from the closed door, which told him everything he needed to know. When Y/n pushed the door open, the noise got louder, causing Maeve to lift her head from Harry's shoulder to see what was going on.

"Hey, look who it is!"

The commotion didn't stop entirely, but it did lessen as the focus shifted to Harry, Maeve, and Y/n. Pauli—the person, not the unicorn—came over to where the three had remained by the dressing room door. Geneva was on his hip, who seemed to be marveling at Pauli's hair and touching it idly, but Pauli didn't seem to mind. He handed GiGi over to Y/n, who was making grabby hands at her now that she was in arm's reach. Y/n took her and kissed her cheek, quietly thanking Pauli for looking after Geneva.

"I thought my mum had Gi and Natalia?" Harry said to no one in particular.

"She went with Gem and the baby for a walk. Trying to get her down for a nap," Mitch said. "Took ours too."

"She does that," Harry nodded. He was plenty used to his mother taking any of his babies off his or Y/n's hands.

"It's fine. Sarah and I are used to it by now," he said. "And there's plenty of little ones to occupy us before the show."

Surveying the rest of the room, Harry saw all the rest of his children entertaining his band. Simone was sitting on a couch with Elin's bass in her lap while Elin told her where to put her fingers on the fretboard; Collette seemed to be in an intense battle of rock paper scissors with Julian while the members of the trumpet section watched and cheered. A small smile tugged at Harry's lips at the sight. It was such a different environment than when he was first starting out, and he couldn't have been happier.

"You need to go get ready. Unless you're planning on going out like that," Y/n said to him.

Harry looked down at his t-shirt and workout shorts, the beat up shoes he was wearing, then looked at Y/n. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing's wrong with what you're wearing, baby. In fact, I'm sure your fans would love to see you perform in your day clothes," she said, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. "But you might as well put on what Lambert picked out for you."

Harry finally relented, knowing the clock was ticking and he would soon be out of time. Carefully, he set Maeve down on the floor, telling her to show Uncle Pauli her unicorn, and since she was more awake, she was more receptive to the idea of letting Harry go.

He watched Maeve skip over to Pauli and Sarah and present her unicorn. Even though he knew about it because Harry told him, Pauli acted surprised and showed interest in the stuffed animal named after him.

"Go, Daddy. We'll come see you off before the show," Y/n said. She tilted his head to face her so she could kiss him.

"Promise?"

Y/n smiled at Harry, partly amused. With a slight roll of her eyes, she said, "Yes. I promise."

With one last kiss, Harry left. He didn't like being away from his family when they were so close, but in moments like these, moments before a show, he appreciated a little quiet to calm his nerves. And there were a lot for this show.

Harry's hands shook ever so slightly as he got dressed, his mind wandered to the thousands of people that were already filling the stadium. Eighty-five thousand people. All of them waiting for him to perform his heart out, to give them a show they would never forget. Harry usually forgot about that pressure when he stepped onstage, but beforehand, he was all nerves.

"I hold you, Daddy?" GiGi said, reaching for him. That had become her favorite phrase recently. Instead of asking to be held, Geneva asked if she could hold them. Harry's heart melted every time he heard it.

Grinning, Harry reached down to where his second youngest child managed to toddle in by herself. "How did you get in here, eh? You're too cute to be out of anyone's sight."

"Mommy," GiGi said, smiling when Harry smiled at her.

"Oh, Mummy let you in here? Mummy?" Harry asked, determined to have at least one of his kids share his accent.

"Mu—mmy," she said.

"That's my girl. Now give your daddy a kiss, hm? Right here."

Geneva kissed Harry's cheeks right where he'd pointed. Just moments before, he'd been stressing about his show, but as he held his daughter, and took Y/n's hand, who was waiting just outside the dressing room for the pair to come out, he felt like he could take on the world.

[gnocchibabie]

The Realm's Tragedy

Chapter 2 - Under the Weirwood

aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!oc

previous chapter --- masterlist --- ao3

Summary: Maevys Targaryen is born into a kingdom overshadowed by calamity. With her mother Aemma Arryn gone, King Viserys consumed by grief, and Princess Rhaenyra adrift in sorrow, young Maevys finds herself at the heart of a fractured family. As she emerges from the shadows of tragedy, she must navigate the delicate balance between the remnants of a broken lineage and the impending storm of a new era.

As the dragons dance, the princess must learn to accept an unforgiving truth: All Must Choose.

Wordcount: 1.9k

113 AC - King's Landing

Much could change in a year. Rhaenyra Targaryen had seen that for herself.

Some changes, she welcomed with open arms.

Like Maevys. 

The once-pale, squalling babe had grown considerably in a year's time. Though still smaller than most children her age, she had already defied all the odds that were previously stacked against her – by simply being alive. 

Rhaenyra remembered the first month of Maevys's life with a shudder; it was a time of relentless worry for both her and their father. They hovered over the fragile baby, their hearts gripped by the fear that each breath might be her last, that she might slip away to join her departed mother and brother. Rhaenyra had often clung to the hope that holding her sister close would shield her from the Stranger’s grasp, believing her embrace was a barrier against fate. The princess would wake in the dead of night, her heart racing as she tiptoed to Maevys’s room. She would gently pry open the door and lean her head into the babe’s cradle to catch the faintest sound of the baby’s breath.

But a week had passed, then a month, then six, and now finally a year had come and gone. 

Rhaenyra and Viserys began to feel a tentative relief. The Grand Maester had assured them that the most delicate times had passed them, and that little Maevys were likely here to stay.

Rhaenyra had watched her little sister grow with rapt attention. Her silver blonde hair had become fuller now, curling every which way to form an unruly mess on the little girl’s head. Maevys’ vibrant violet eyes were impossibly wide for a babe’s, taking up much of her face. Rhaenyra thought it was as though the little girl was trying to take in as much of the world around her as she could. Viserys had once said her eyes reminded him of Aemma’s.

Viserys’ love for Maevys was undeniable, though he seldom found himself around to express it. The weight of his grief over Aemma, the relentless pressure to remarry, the unpredictable chaos of his brother Daemon, and the looming threat of war with the Triarchy all conspired to draw him away from his daughters.

Though, on some nights, Rhaenyra would pass by her father’s chamber, hearing the cooing of her sister from inside. Pressing her ear up to the smooth wood of the door, she would hear her father speaking to the little girl. On the other side, she could picture her father with Maevys in his arms, walking around his replica of King’s Landing, as if giving her a grand tour of the city he once shared with her mother.

One thing Viserys had been around to insist for his daughter, was that Maevys was to not be given a dragon egg. A decision that surely rose a few eyebrows within her family – namely herself and her uncle Daemon. 

“She is a Targaryen princess,” her uncle had voiced, “It would be an injustice to deny her of her birthright.”

“She is a sick Targaryen princess. That in and of itself is injustice,” Viserys retorted, “You have seen the babe yourself. Her very existence is a miracle. Surely the Gods have a hand in it…” The King had trailed off, as though lost in thought before continuing.

“The maesters predict she will remain weak for the rest of her days. I will not risk her life in the hope that she could ever become a dragonrider. She lacks the strength for it.”

Daemon’s scoff was laden with frustration. Though he knew his words might not sway his brother, he voiced his dissent. “Still, it isn’t right.”

And Rhaenyra agreed. It was unfair. How was anyone to know if her baby sister would truly be this delicate forever? If they treated her as if she were truly made of porcelain, then surely she would stay that way. That was the real injustice, Rhaenyra thought, that Maevys wasn’t even given the chance to be believed in, to grow stronger.

Everything the babe had faced so far had been unfair: the circumstances of her birth, her frailty, the loss of her brother and mother, and now the denial of a dragon.

She often wished their mother was here to see it all. To help them sort through the mess. She would be able to fix it all.

In the midst of all this, the elder princess had lately taken to scooping up the infant in her arms, showing her around the Red Keep. They now sat amongst the Godswood, under the great Weirwood tree where Rhaenyra tried to teach her sister how to say her name.

“Rhay-neera!” she would echo to the babe with great enthusiasm, overemphasizing each syllable, sending the little girl into giggles.

This routine served as a distraction from the memories of her past, memories of sitting in this very spot with Alicent.

This was the other side of the changes that now permeated her life—changes Rhaenyra found deeply unsettling. These transformations had completely upended her worldview, leaving behind fresh wounds.

Alicent Hightower had once been Rhaenyra’s closest friend. The girl she sought comfort in, the girl she found laughter with, the girl she once dreamed of running away atop Syrax with.

The announcement that Alicent was to marry her father had caught her entirely by surprise. It had taken months for the princess to accept and understand that it was her father’s duty to remarry. For a long while, she had not dared to speak to him, save for a few words. The most time they spent together was checking in on little Maevys. 

But as time passed, Rhaenyra had come to the unfortunate realization that her father was simply doing what was expected of him. He still held love for her mother, and nothing could change that.

But she had expected her father to marry Laena Velaryon.

Certainly not Alicent. 

That had changed everything between them. 

Her relationship with Alicent was now strained at best. Certainly they both had calmed from the initial storm – the tears, the scathing words, and the pleas – but the inklings of betrayal still lingered. 

Just a few months ago, Rhaenyra had helped her dear friend into her wedding gown – a splendid garment adorned with white, red, gold, and her family’s sigil. When they were younger, Alicent had often dreamed about the day they would both be married. Rhaenyra had always found it a sweet notion.

But it wasn’t meant to unfold this way.

She recalled the hesitation on her friend’s face as she carefully tied the laces of the dress. In the quiet of Alicent’s chamber, where words seemed inadequate, Rhaenyra embraced her friend, holding her for what felt like an eternity. Tears began to soak into the shoulder where Alicent had rested her head.

She wished that they would have ran away together after all, when they still had the chance. They could have even taken little Maevys with them. Together, they would have escaped it all.

But it did no good to linger on the fantasies of children. Reality was much more scathing.

In reality, a few months after the wedding, it was announced that the Queen Alicent Hightower was with child. Viserys had been overjoyed – perhaps now he would be given the son he had always wanted.

Rhaenyra hugged Maevys closer to her. 

The prospect of another sibling would have pleased the princess in any other circumstance. She adored Maevys and found great joy in caring for her – she could hardly wait until the girl would start talking, and could one day hold a conversation with her. The idea of Maevys having siblings closer to her age was an even greater prospect.

But it was not supposed to happen this way.

Alicent seemed…well, Rhaenyra was not sure. She suspected her friend put on a happy front for her husband and for the court – giving into the ruse that she should be blessed to bring more Targaryen royals into the world. Maybe there was a small part of Alicent that did find some happiness in the news. However, Rhaenyra also suspected that Alicent, like herself, could not help but think of Aemma Arryn’s final moments.

Her stomach churned and she decided to turn her thoughts to other matters. 

Nowadays, Rhaenyra and Alicent had seldom encountered each other, returning to few and far between words. 

In fact, Rhaenyra found herself seldom speaking to anyone these days. With her uncle Daemon engaged in the war at the Stepstones and her deliberate avoidance of both Alicent and Viserys, she felt that Maevys and the occasional presence of her sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole, were all she truly had.

As the babe in her lap began to babble, Rhaenyra was snapped away from her thoughts, directing her attention elsewhere. 

Wide, violet eyes looked up at her. 

“Rhay-neeerrraaa,” The princess drew out her words, trying to coax her name from the babe once more.

It was no use, Maevys simply looked to her older sister, smiling and cooing.

“Well, you’ll have to start talking eventually,” Rhaenyra teases, poking her sister’s nose that sent her into another fit of giggles.

Despite the tender moment shared with her sister, Rhaenyra’s thoughts inevitably wandered back to the upheavals of the preceding months as Maevys fell asleep in her lap.

Shortly after their mother’s death, Viserys had formally declared Rhaenyra as the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone.

It all felt like some cruel twist of fate, that it took Aemma dying for Viserys to truly see the daughter he had all along – a daughter who was as fit as any son to inherit the throne.

Rhaenyra was still unsure on how she felt about the matter. She had never wanted the crown, though she supposed that was because she never dared to imagine she would ever have it. She was Visery’s first-born, but she was not a son – a truth that permeated every aspect of her existence.

Despite being his heir, it still remained that Viserys cared little for his daughter’s counsel or opinions. When Rhaenyra had suggested to her father that dragonriders be sent to the Stepstones, to subdue the Crabfeeder once and for all, her father had quickly shot down the idea altogether. 

If her father would not even allow her to speak on matters of the realm, did he truly believe in her as his heir? And if Viserys did not prime his daughter, instruct her, or advise her as he would a son – what kind of Queen would she come to be? The only matters pertaining to Rhaenyra that he father had concerned himself with as of late, was marrying her off. 

It enraged her to dwell on it for too long.

But the more she thought of it all – the more days that passed – Rhaenyra Targaryen vowed one thing to herself: When I am Queen, I will create a new order. 

She had seen the same fate befall all of the women in her life: her mother, her best-friend, and now she herself – condemned to enter a marriage on no accord of her own, and made to have as many heirs as she could.

It was what killed her mother. And it was what left Alicent expecting her first child at only ten and five.

If Rhaenyra could not escape this destiny, she vowed that it would not claim the sister that slept so soundly in her arms. 

In their world, women were mere pawns to be sacrificed across the board, propelling their families forward. 

“But we are not pawns, Maevys,” Rhaenyra whispered aloud, “We are Targaryen’s.”

A warm breeze swayed the limbs of the weirwood the two sister’s sat under, a few red leaves dancing around them now. In the quiet of the Godswood, Rhaenyra allowed herself to smile for the first time in weeks.  

--

Author's Note: another short chapter! i promise they will start getting longer as we delve into Maevy's POV, which will begin next chapter ;) as always, thank you for reading!

Tags: @marialikescherries @3-decades-strong

[magpiemoon6]

Love me in the dark

(chapter 2)

DBF Simon Riley x OC

Summary - Maevis and Simons prank war questions what they are to each other because strangers doesn't feel correct.

Theme - angst, smut, fluff

Warnings - trauma dumping, smoking, arguments, self hate, age gap ( 12 years), smut- voyeurism, self pleasure, pet names.

He’s still in my head, circling my thoughts every single second I breathe, those eyes haunt me in my sleep so full of pain. Dragging myself to deal with the day scheduled of course as if dear old Dad could cope without complete control, probably have a heart attack. Padding into the kitchen only for my breath to hitch. Mother of fuck. Simon’s standing, boiling the kettle in grey sweats. Just grey sweats. Sweet Jesus I’m salivating, my eyes are glued to his tattoos on his back the ink details that litter his back, song with areas of white skin. Between his shoulder blades is an interactive drawing of an angel with tattered wings that spread the blades of his shoulders. I’m physically choking on air while I stare, I can't stop.

And then it clicks, in a childish fit last night- at 2 in the fucking morning when his face was making me weak in the knees and electrocuting my skin- I decided to act like a spoiled child. Stomping into the kitchen, my glare zoning into the kitchen where he stood making tea only a few hours ago, I quickly ripped the sugar container from its place, dumping the contents in a spare bowl. My fingers search for the salt. His words about me being a daddies girl as if he knows our relationship, the fact ‘daddy’ left with no answers because it was easier than admitting his career destroyed our relationship and the phone doesnt go both ways when your fucking ten.

I rip off the salt lid and pour it into the original sugar jar and then pour the sugar into the salt container. Cleaning the mess in a haze of glee and popping it all back I practically hopped into my room. 

Shit do i tell him? Yes, that's the mature thing someone my age, with a big girl job, would do.

“Princess if you stare at my back any harder it's gonna leave a mark,” he teases, turning around as he stirs his tea smugly. The smirk on his face angers me to unrivalled levels, but also forces me to pull together from the nickname. Of course he fucking notices this but can’t seem to notice a car moving. Fuck it, he can drink the salty tea.

Simons pouring unknowingly salt into his tea as I turn back to my room and yell out.

“Enjoy your tea Simon!” I sprint the second I’m out of his view, locking my door instantly.

It doesn’t take long for me to hear my name being bellowed by Simon

“Maevis get your ass out here now!” He practically threatens standing in front of my door.

“Sorry Simy can't pop in the shower, need anything?” inquiring as innocently as I can. I'm dying inside knowing the hissy fit this man is about to pull.

I begin to undress for the shower when I hear him.

“Maevis.”  I see Simon as I peek out of the shower. “Simon.”I'm waiting to see what he will do.

“Now Maevis.” “No thank you I’d rather not,” I quip and slam the shower for him to hear and carry on. 

Fuck him.

Simon’s pov- 

She is nothing like her father, she's reckless and childish, changing the sugar for salt? Is she 10 years old for the love of fuck.

The buzz of voices in the garden as people socialise, moving in fluttery movements unsure of who to chat about their waiting for the crappy wine to be soaked up and the fuzz of being drunk fogs their fears of being judged. I remain in a corner, feeling the rose thorn prick me ever so gently. I observe the guests hop from one group to the next, wondering how I ended up here. I'm here because my ex-captain when I was a recruit helped me out, and now I'm here as his best man around people I don't know asking questions i dont want and having to see her. 

The air smells like the nearby vineyard filling my head with the sweetness, the bitterness from the salt is still on my tongue even with the whiskey. my eyes scan the groups of people and the moment my eyes land on her finally my mind is consumed by her once again. She is the most beautiful person I've ever seen. The green dress hugs her curves with a side slit showing the thigh tattoo that curls its way on her flesh, inked flowers. pretty. My eyes rise to dress, my god. My eyes nearly fall out when she turns around to talk to someone. In her hair her body again. I'm stuck and for the first time in  my life I'm flustered, until she smiles slightly and sticks her tounge out at me. All those thoughts of her die and leave me remembering how childish she is. 

Still watching her, she turns her body back to the stranger laughing and it warms a part of me I don’t want to think about, her chatter distracts me from her now pointing her finger at me and moving away pushing the stranger in my direction. For fuck sakes Maevis, wanna play? Let's play princess.

Maevis pov:

God he’s gorgeous, the white linen shirt he has on is open at the top and cuffed at his elbows showing off those tattoos but catching him staring at me is making me force my legs together from the warmth that is developing. ive pushed a very enthusiastic old lady towards him hoping to push his temper if it meant he’ll come find me and tell me off.

Walking away, weaving through the herds of people and reaching an outer corner to hide where the sun warms my skin and calms my mind. Until I hear my father, I love him but when I see him it's like a slap in the face. I want to scream at him and cry and ask the questions the child in me wants answers to but I can't so I turn and smile. 

“Darling, why are you here? Come, I have people for you to meet!” pulling me by my elbow to follow him to the gaggle of older men who make me feel sick with their stares. I'm used to it, it doesn't take a genius to work out why but god it still makes me feel ill. They start to speak to me asking all the questions that all have the same underlying meaning, which is that i've filled out in all the right places to be stared at like a prized doll in the shop window. Goosebumps begin to form along my arms as I try to control my tongue for my dad and not be snarky.

A warm hand slips around my waist and I jump whipping around to see Simon dead staring at the old men with a look that could kill a man.

“I’m sorry gents but I need to steal Maevis away, and I think your wives are wondering where you are.”

I sink into his touch on my hip, it's warm and soothing. His thumb makes circles, the creeping feeling between my legs starts again and I want to hide my blush but I'm frozen. He begins to pull me with him, staring at them and glancing at my father with what only could suggest annoyance and disappointment in the man. Whisking me away even when we are out their view, his hand still on my hip. His body bends his head to reach mine and moves his mouth to my ear whispering.

“Are you alright, love?” The kindness strikes me, so soothing yet shocking how the gruffness rasp of his voice holds the words and makes me melt.

“I’m fine, thank you Si “ I whisper back, catching his eyes as I turn. We are too close, so close I can see every etch in his skin and those pretty lips that I want to cover my skin with.

“Good. Now good luck,” he begins to smile as he twists my body back and pushes me back into the hoard of people.

Confusion only lasts a second when it clicks, I see about 5 ladies dressed like colourful birds smiling at me and calling me to go chat with me. Oh fuck, this is karma from before. Simon's warmth disappears from behind me and I feel my dark hair fall into my face. Positioning my hand to go tighten my ribbon I find it missing. It’s gone? I spin around checking the floor in despair. Did it fall out? But it's gone and I'm consumed by too much old lady perfume and loud chatter. 

“Maevis ? Gosh dear haven't you changed! Do you remember me dear, I'm your aunt?” one of them speaks holding me, she smells too strongly of perfume i cant breath, pulling me aware from finding the ribbon.

“Ah yes of course, how are you?” I respond too slowly because I  have zero clue who this lady is, i smile and hope it's believable and no one points it out.

The rest stare at me like a group of hawks and I don't know how to hold myself, these strangers who I'm related to and would persecute me if I mess up. 

“I'm fine sweety just at the point in my life where I move and pray I haven't pulled a muscle, it's such a shame we haven't seen you in such a long time, why is that ?” she inquires and the air in my lungs catches because the sentence in my head unravels  the second she ends her sentence.

“Oh um school and work became a priority and it was easier to stay with my mam” every word is a lie but no one is asking for the truth, they want to ask because i disappeared and i don't blame them, my heart hurted every day i couldn't see them but eventually i got used to it and time moves on enough that my brain couldn't remember their faces just the nostalgia.

“Ah such a shame but I understand darling it's okay just know that we’re here if you need us,” squeezing my arm just as much as my heart because I want to swallow up in my sadness, i feel like a traitor when I stand around this warmth. 

Simons pov:

If those fuckers look at her again I’m going to kill them, how could her father not see it? My grip on the ribbon in my hand tightens. No reasons come to my mind of why I took it from her hair other than a way to carry on our little war. 

Shoving it in my pocket panic sets in that my rage will break it also if I stare at it for too long my mind gets clouded by her and tightness in my trousers fills me with guilt. Her dad is quite literally the man I respect the most, he taught me everything I know. At the same time I see her I swear it's like she's the sun. It’s intoxicating to just be near her, the danger signs in my head go berserk like a reminder that I'm a war criminal. I've killed more people than I could count. I've got people killed, good people. I don't deserve that kind of happiness. Not in this lifetime. 

“Private riley!” my head whips around on instinct the station so far below me yet still my reaction is the same as the 17 year old kid who just joined the military. 

“Yes sir.”

“Ah shit its lieutenant now isn't it, come have a beer with me” her father calls me over to come sit with me and hands me a beer. fuck of all people to talk to me right now.

the cold bottle held in my hand feels like a fucking lifeline when he starts talking, blabbing drunkenly about how grateful his kid is back in his life, drilling into me that its his kid, she is nothing to me and gushing over her achievements at 25 fucking hell she is too young for me to want her like this im 37 christ i feel guilty. 

“It's a shame i couldn't see her with all her graduations but ah work came first, that's probably why i would never want her to end up with someone like you simon,” grabbing my shoulder kindly but my heart drops and I can't breathe. The words stick in my head painted in red, reminding me that I would only hurt her.

“Um yeah mate wouldn't want her with a bastard like me” I replied the words taste like bleach on my tongue.

“Exactly you get it kid, the shit we go through god it ruined my first marrage I was never home, not to fucking mention the PTSD from all that shit wouldnt want Maevis to be dragged down by all that shit people like us go through,” he carries on, every word is stabbing me and holds me accountable for even thinking of her as more than my ex captains kid. 

“Yeah definitely, will you excuse me sir? I need to check in on my task force," I mutter as I stand, I need to leave before he says any more shit.

“Yes go on son, thank you for listening”

“Of course sir,”  I mutter, quickly striding away from the conversation to the empty space from people by a pool.

I can breathe now that he isn't here, but the words are still dragging me into some pit. Gripping tightly the glass I drain all the alcohol the burn soothes me for a secon.The reflective lights of the pool let me reminisce about a calmer point in my life. And for a bit my solitude is comforting, I cannot hurt anyone if there is no one to hurt. Until I hear familiar footsteps moving towards me I instantly check, her ribbon is out of view and it's not, shit.

She needs to leave.

Maevis’ pov:

  Whatever my dad told Simon must have been bad from the way he so crutley left. Exiting the ladies I had searched for my ribbon where I was standing earlier, my hair is in my face and it's pissing me off, tickling my skin and making me sneeze when it brushes my nose. Walking directly into a view where I could see my dad and simon talk or more my dad yapping, and Simon gripping his glass. Just from the look he’s giving to my unbeknownst dad I think the glass was going to burst and his jaw locked, his eyes had diminished any light I had seen in them.

Staring at the two of them, I catch a glint of green in Simons front pocket, my fucking ribbon. that little shit. An deniable urge to beat him with my shoe till comes over me. Storming towards them in the most calm way a crazy lady could until my arm is caught by someone, urging me to come meet family members agin for the 50th fucking time. The old lady said how great it is that I’m finally around everyone, again. I look over my shoulder to check his glaring daggers, only to see Simon walking away from my father who is plastered in his chair.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Simon Riley give it back,:” rushing towards him, after searching the grounds to find him tucked away by an empty pool, standing alone just staring with an empty glare at nothing.

“I'm not in the mood.” he responds curtly, it's so cold, there is nothing in his voice not even wit. and all the warmth he has begun to make me feel starts to ebb away. What did my father say to him?

“Si? Are you being grumpy because of the little pranks today? “ laughing awkwardly because the coldness of him is making me panic. Did I go too far? my heart is my throat, the idea he may be so angry he won't speak to me again makes me panic and I don't know why but i step closer. His blonde hair in the sun glows saintly halo, I wish it didn't distract me.

“Why are you here? I don't even know you. We are strangers, you and I. Go talk with your family before you get seen with me,” again with the coldness that holds in my heart.

“Si….?” I question, confusion floods me. I step forward. 

“Stop. You don’t know me and I don't want to know you. You’re- you’re like some lost puppy leave me the fuck alone,” and like that those words are a spark to my anger and all the sadness and confusion is wrapped around my annoyance.

“You can say that shit but hand over my ribbon. I want it back,” my hands reach out. I step closer again, close enough I can smell his cologne and the hint of whiskey.

His hand quickly wraps around my wrist and twists me so I'm on the edge of the pool and away from his pocket. I’m too close to the edge, but the thumping in my ear as my blood rushes to my ears is because he is so close. 

“No,” he stares at me, he's so cold my heart feels like it has frostbite.

I see his eyes quickly dart to my lips, as I breathe in shallowly from my mouth. His eyes darken, it’s like I can read his mind but can he read mine. Images of me naked and him on top of me flash through my mind. Without thinking I go to kiss him I see his face turn into panic as I use all my weight to twist us back around. I try to shove him in. I’ll make him see what happens when he fucks with my feelings and steal my accessory to a kickass outfit fuck no you dont. only as his body moves to the water his hand is still on my wrist and forces me to topple into the water after him.

My head is spinning too much from the alcohol given to me all day to process the change from land to water. stress sets into my muscles and i try to swim up. 

A strong grip of rough hands does the job for me, pulling me through the water forcing my head up to the surface, gasping. I turn to Simon, his grip still on me.

“What the fuck Maevis.”

Turning to him I swim closer, my arm reaches for his shoulder to use, or so he thinks my mind reels still pissed at his change in mood and refusal to give me my stuff back. Trailing my arm down his torso now on show from the water making it see through, his abdomen twitches from the sudden touch. My eyes remain on his lips and watch as his chest rises and falls rapidly as my hand trails closer to his crotch. Leaning into his ear I hear his breathing stop completely as my hand lightly grazes his cock already growing hard. Turning so my lips are close to his ear I wait a second, my hand cupping him gently.

“Strangers huh Si?” I whisper, quickly moving my hand from him into the pocket where my ribbon is and grabbing it. Turning away, I swim to the exit. Leaving him barely breathing and dead staring at my back as I leave the pool and walk towards our room. 

Soaking wet I move through the villa to our room leaving a trail of water that I'm praying no old family member slips and cracks a hip on. 

I head straight for the shower, absence of Simon and the breeze causes me to shiver. All the fury is melting into something that warms my stomach and stirs something inside me. I need it out of my system, then I can go back to hating him.

Maevis’ pov:

I don’t wait to enter my part of the room to strip down. I’m unbearably cold and my nipples hurt from the friction of the wet dress. I hurry to the shower letting the water run till it’s scolding hot, hopefully hot enough to flush my feelings and thoughts. I scrub and scrub trying my hardest to forget him, forget how he grew harder as I straddled his hips. It felt amazing to feel his arms securely around me, that and the look on his face as he saw the opaque dress.

“Fucker.” I detest how much I need this relife. I lean my head back, closing my eyes as I imagine him kissing me, from my mouth to my tits. I slowly creep my hand down between my legs sighing in relief. I imagine him clearly on his knees slowly parting my legs and looking up at me through his eyelashes. Feeling his hands grip and travel up my thighs, and as he reaches my cunt he slowly circles my clit, teasingly. I begin to breathe heavier, the water blocking my nose causes me to open my mouth slightly and a moan escapes me. Dear god, I hope he isn’t back. I can feel my orgasm build up ever so slowly. I picture him, slipping his fingers between my pussy whispering, “keep your legs open for me princess. Like the good girl you are.” I push in my fingers, quickening the pace, the friction killing me. 

Simon’s pov:

In the bathroom I hear the shower running. That brat took her ribbon from me and thinks she can hide from me in the bathroom, pretending to shower? Right, not going to fool me. I storm over to the bathroom door cracking the door ajar pausing when I hear her moan. I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t, any gentleman wouldn’t peak but I’m anything but. I look in curiously and the sight before nearly makes me groan in desperation. There she is water running over her beautiful body, plastering her long hair to body. I follow the stream of water running from her head, down to her perfect tits, all the way to- 

Fuck me.

I feel the blood rush straight to my cock. Hardening instantly, at her fucking herself, moaning. her breathy gasps say something. “Simon.” Holy shit. I can’t think straight. I'm focused solely on how her hands work her to an orgasim. I envisage how magnificent she’d look as I look up at making her come with my mouth. 

“Yes, god fu-” she hitches shuddering under the steaming water. She pumps in and out a few more times and slumps down. 

It takes all the will power in me and years of training not to go in there and make her scream my name, not just say it. To not pick her up and rail her over the bathroom counter, gripping her hair so that she can see me pounding into her and see how her eyes tear in painful pleasure. 

I’m not helping my situation, I shake my head rubbing my eyes snapping me back. I head straight back out onto the balcony, I need a cig or twenty.

I knew she was going to be trouble.

[frogsandfries]

I was genuinely having so much fun reading this second volume of Debt of Time, I quit fixing the punctuation (it's so nice to have a piece of writing that has been so heavily edited and beta'd and proofed, there've been like three tiiiiiiiinnnnnyyyy little things that I've tweaked) to just read. It's really annoying that the apostrophes and quotation marks didn't come over. It's also annoying that I have to fix the possessives of the names ending in -s--Sirius, James, Charlus. Sirius', James', Charlus'.

I fucking loved Maevy, but Tilly is just--omg a fucking riot, and the family is also so........... perfect. They're amazing. It was hard to put down.

PS, I put the front end paper in the first volume of Manacled, so I'll have pictures of that tomorrow. My method really is just slapping the cover into the end paper. I messed up by cutting off the margins. The printer didn't print edge to edge, which is mildly annoying and my cat won't stop licking the exposed bare backs of my legs and wow that skin is so sensitive, her tongue hurts.

[pimp-sempai]

i bought an adoptable from @keebs over on toyhouse the other day! i named her Maevie and she likes collecting cute mugs

my art twitter

[gobboguy]

Chapter 30: Ten Years a Slave

Under the relentless gaze of the blazing sun, the sands of the Grand Arena of Gob glowed like embers, absorbing the heat that radiated from the dwarvish gladiators locked in a dance of death. The metallic clangor of weapons echoed through the colossal amphitheater as the combatants engaged in a bloody spectacle that mirrored the fiery intensity of the sun above.

King Korbor, ensconced in his opulent box, reclined with an air of regal indifference. Dwarf maidens, adorned in vibrant colors, offered him succulent grapes and stroked his luxurious beard while he lounged on his royal seat, a stark contrast to Queen Asta's disapproving gaze as she feigned interest in the brutal contest below. She sniffed indignantly and tried her best to ignore her husband's blatant infidelities, her hands knotting themselves and nearly tearing at her dress. The indignity of it all! The air in the royal box carried the tension of strained courtly dynamics.

Amidst the tumultuous roars of the crowd, one gladiator emerged as a towering figure of skill and finesse. Grjun, a master of combat, moved with a deceptive grace that defied his colossal size. In the bloodbath of the arena, he wove through the chaos with a fluidity that spoke of experience and unparalleled mastery. The crowd, swept away by the artistry of his brutal ballet, erupted in chants of "Grjun, Grjun, Grjun!"

The sun's harsh rays cast long shadows over the shifting sands, mirroring the ebb and flow of the gladiatorial spectacle. Grjun's dominance became a beacon of awe, a testament to the mastery of combat, as he harnessed the principles of redirection and weight control to dismantle adversaries with calculated precision. The arena, a cauldron of fervent cheers and the metallic symphony of clashing weapons, bore witness to Grjun's unrivaled prowess, etching his name into the collective consciousness of the dwarf spectators.

As the clamor of the Grand Arena of Gob echoed through the vast stone structure, Senator Sada, a figure of political influence, leaned forward from behind King Korbor. "My lord." Sada spoke. "I cannot stress the need for a worthy champion to emerge from this melee. The winner we see today will have him and his house represent our interest in the upcoming tournament between Bhia and our neighbors to the south, Zigan."

"Yes, yes..." Korbor sighed and waved the maidens around him away. He sat and looked at Sada. "Long have we been seperated from our cousins to the south. The Dwarvish Compact, our non-aggression treaty, has long kept us from all-out war. I intend to make use of the first international tournament of gladiatorial combat to propose a bold new plan."

The King's Box grew silent at this mention. Even Asta leaned forward to listen closer. King Korbor swirled his wine in his cup and tasted it, savoring the attention paid to him. "If we can win the tournament, then the winner is given a concession during any future negotiations. But I intend to make a negotiation forthwith. I intend to propose reunification."

"Yes, yes!" Sada crowed, his eyes alight with internal political machinations. "But..." His eyes cast aside to Asta. "But how will you cement this alliance? The King of Zigan has a daughter of age, Maevis, who is comely and unmarried. She would make the ideal match. But, my lord, you are already married...Normally marriage would be the lynchpin to secure an alliance but the Queen..."

"Nonsense!" King Korbor guffawed and ignored the glare from his wife. "The Dwarvish King's of Old held more than one wife at a time. Why shouldn't I? This will be a new Kingdom, a new alliance. I think some of the old mixed with the new is called for, would you wife?" He turned to Asta and gave her a look that brokered no arguement.

Asta sneered and turned from her husband, desperate to hide her tears. "Yes, dear husband." She said quietly, suppressing a sob. Her family's future and their debt to the King meant that she could never go against him. She was a slave queen, tied to her husband for fear of her family's downfall.

The scene inside the King's box was interrupted as a great cry went up as a final spray of blood filled the air. The crowd cheered and went wild, screaming "Grjun!" as their champion fought and won. The grand melee unfolded below, a spectacle of ferocious combat with over a dozen gladiator houses vying for supremacy. The air buzzed with excitement as each house sought to prove the prowess of their champions, laying the foundation for a colossal tournament that would echo far beyond the boundaries of the Grand Arena of Gob.

The colossal warrior, known as "Grjun," lifted the severed head of his fallen opponent high, eliciting a thunderous cheer from the jubilant crowd. The deafening roar echoed through the Grand Arena of Gob as Gelbeg, concealed beneath the gruesome persona, acknowledged the adoration from the bloodthirsty spectators.

King Korbor, rising from his regal seat, dismissed Senator Sada with a wave. With an imperious air, he commanded silence, addressing Gelbeg. "Grjun, mighty warrior of House Dwordrum, your strength has made Bhia proud. For ten years you've proven yourself a mighty warrior, one worthy of our nation. Soon, you shall journey to Zigan, representing our great realm in the face of our dwarven kin."

With a deliberate and theatrical motion, Grjun reached up to his helmet, its grotesque design concealing the identity of the formidable gladiator. As the heavy metal mask was lifted, revealing a face accustomed to the harsh brutality of the arena, the cheers and adulations spread like wildfire through the crowd. The cheers surged momentarily, straining to reach their champion. There, beneath the battered armor and scars earned in a decade of gruesome combat, stood Gelbeg, the once proud leader of the Orcish people. His eyes, once fierce and untamed, met the gaze of the spectators with a mix of sufferenace and quiet desperation, resigned to his fate of slave to the dwarves. The revelation was seen through the arena, leaving an indelible mark on the minds of those who had witnessed the Orcish leader's transformation into the fearsome gladiator, Grjun.

Gelbeg, now unmasked, met the king's words with a gruff acknowledgment. "Aye, King Korbor. I shall showcase my might and defend Bhia's honor in Zigan." The words were appropriate, well honed and practiced but lacked any conviction. Ten years of being a slave had left Gelbeg numb, a being created only for violence. Where there was a lack of violence, then he was left with nothing and nothing was all he felt. As the cheers continued, Gelbeg discarded the severed head, a macabre trophy from his years in the brutal arena.

Asta, the queen, observed the spectacle with a disdainful snort. "Such barbarity," she muttered to herself, her eyes betraying a mix of disgust and repulsion.

King Korbor, undeterred by his wife's disapproval, continued, "Grjun, a decade of service in the arena has molded you into a fearsome gladiator. May your strength serve our cause well in Zigan."

With the formalities concluded, Gelbeg, still in the guise of Grjun, flexed his muscles, responding to the crowd's adulation. The arena, soaked in the scent of blood and the fervor of the dwarven spectators, awaited the next chapter in the gladiatorial drama.

[leaguepremsinfo]

name: olivia blake

age: twenty five ( as of 1978 )

nationality: english

occupation: singer

family: maevis ‘mae’ blake (mother, deceased), unknown father

Olivia was born to an artist mother in her own living room, with only a neighbour to help. Her upbringing was pretty mundane, similar to many of the children in her area of London – she attended school, got average grades and was … pretty average herself until the age of about nineteen – that was when her mother died from terminal cancer, after refusing treatment. It was painful. Livvy dropped out of college, needing to work a full time job to keep her money flow going as what was left in the will was minimal.

She was pushed into open mic nights by one of her three friends, Brandon - he had heard her poetry, song lyrics and singing over the years, but wanted to help her channel her obvious grief into something creative, just like her mother would have wanted. Olivia was too shy, so used her fashion and eccentricities to carve out a character for herself. she sang in a different tone, her lyrics were different and she wore layers of fabric that she had sewn together in her living room. 

People doubted that she’d amount to much; she had a new, different sound that irked people and her attitude on stage set people on edge in her local pubs and bars, even when she played in Shoreditch or Soho or other ‘edgy’ areas of london. but she pressed on - her music was helping her process what she was too uptight to talk about, using it to help battle what she didn’t understand was depression and great anxiety.

Her luck came one night in Camden town, playing in the worlds end pub, where an agent named Paul Dervish picked her up. He'd signed many well-known artists and thought that Olivia's unique style and sound would take off. She was naive, excited, and accepted right away, quickly falling into the studio and into the music industry.

it wasn't quite what she expected. people in the industry didn’t understand her style or message - critics would be harsh, peers even harsher, but her fans were dedicated and supportive. She couldn’t get away from the nasty words from the critics, however, and struggled to find the positives within the negatives. alongside this, she struggled with alcohol abuse, using drink as a way to get through her anxiety and depression.

—- two years later, at the age of twenty seven, Olivia sadly joined the twenty seven club whose other members (at the time) included jim morrison, janis joplin, jimi hendrix and brian jones. She passed away in her London flat from alcohol poisoning and an overdose. the public speculated, the critics took down their reviews. Her best friend Brandon in an interview blamed the industry for what happened to his friend, saying ‘they just didn’t understand her. and that was all she ever wanted, to be understood.’

[frickin-fresh-memes]

this really heckles my keckles dwight

[nightingaletrash]

What are Maggie's thoughts on Summerset? How does she deal with all the Altmer snobbery and arrogance directed at her?

It reminds her very much of how Maevis treated her tbh so it wasn’t exactly pleasant… she might not be quite as ridiculously petty as she was when she was younger, but you know that stuff is getting stolen and furniture is being rearranged. And you know she rubbed the altmers’ noses in the fact that she, a nebarra, is one of the only reasons that Summerset is still standing.Really tho, Summerset is just like anywhere else in the world, even if the altmer want to believe otherwise. They’re just more stuck up and infuriating about. And above all, it’s become a place of terrible loss for her. She went through some awful things. Once she leaves you know she’s never coming back. She went through too much.

[dcamu-batmanlover]

OC #1

Buckle up. I don’t want to add too much because when I write a story I don’t want to spoil things. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO DC. PICTURES BELONG TO PINTEREST OR GOOGLE OR MARVEL. 

Name: Maevis Serephina Murphy  

Parents: Hades (yes, God of the Underworld), Sarah Murphy (a witch)

“Adoptive dad”/ mentor: Merlin (The wizard) 

Powers: Astral Projection, Materialization, Necromancy, Telekinesis, Darkness Teleportation/ shadow manipulation, dimensional travel, portal manipulation, witchcraft, To make this list shorter she also shares similar powers to Hades, her mom and Merlin. NOT IMMORTAL. She is similar to Wanda from marvel. 

Alias’s: Protector of Magic and Tempest. 

Background: Hades wanted to raise her to become queen of the underworld though he didn’t know much about raising children. Her mother didn’t want her to grow up in the underworld but she couldn't take care of her so she left her with Merlin. He raised her to be the protector of Light and Dark magic. She lived a good chunk of her life around the mid 12th century so when she came to the present she was a bit clueless. 

Pets: Wolf named Shadow and a Raven named Parris. (”half” human like Maleficent’s Raven) and naturally a black cat named Andover. 

Wardrobe: 

-She is very fashionable. Contrary to popular belief witches don’t just wear black though it is one of her favorite colors. 

-LOVES corsets. Not for shape wear but merely because she looks great in them.

-She’s a witch, obviously she has a big black hat. 

-A lot of lace and floral patterns and fancy dresses and coats. She dresses expensive. (Hades is literally the god of wealth and riches)  

-Still has a good chunk of medieval looking clothes.  

-Greek clothes too. 

Life in the 12th century/ Medieval times: 

- lived with Merlin in a cottage in the woods near Camelot.

-They eventually moved and lived in a semi big, dark castle. I assume you know what a medieval castle looks like. 

-Traveled a lot with Merlin to learn about magic and prophesies. They often traveled to different time periods hence why she’s living in the 21st century and not immortal. 

- Knew and grew up near Jason Blood and the Knights of the Round table. Was present around the time he was bound to Etrigan by Merlin. 

Life in the 21st century. 

-Was kinda lost when she first arrived

-Learned very quickly that the media didn’t portray witches in a good light and learned concealed herself. 

-One day she could sense something bad and it turned out to be demons. That is how she both saved and met John Constantine. He helped catch her up to speed. 

-Moved to Louisiana and worked as a fortune teller as a way to hide in plain sight. 

Things about her: 

-Rambles a lot about random things because she didn’t get a lot of attention as a child. 

-Had a few rebellious years and was a bit of a brat and a problem child. For good reason.

-Loves the show Bewitched because she feels that accurately represents witches. 

-She constantly corrects people about her powers and facts about witches. Is quick to defend herself.   “You’re stereotyping.” “No I don’t fly on a broomstick.” *Flash spills water on her and starts getting worked up* “You know I’m not going to start melting right?”

 -Is a Swiftie 

-Likes Rock n Roll

-Still celebrates Christmas and has a love hate relationship with Halloween. 

-Advocates for people. 

-Is not sensitive but naturally gets upset when people talk bad about her, underestimate her, or are unnecessarily scared of her.   

-She’s sarcastic, funny, actually very sweet and kind, holds a lot inside, has demons (literally)

-Kind of keeps to herself. She wants to be accepted but won’t change herself for anyone. Is still insecure about the way people see her. 

-She can speak Greek, Atlantian, Spanish, Italian, Russian, etc. (long story short, she is multilingual) 

-She has a beautiful singing voice. It’s almost “enchanting.”

Magical Objects: She has Merlin’s staff and wand, Spell books, potions, cauldron, etc.  

Adaptions: (How she would look if she was a real character) (Again you can imagine her in really anyway I’m kinda using the pics as a loose reference mostly for the clothes.)

Superhero suit: (When she decides to choose one suit after she joins the Justice League) (Is not the same but it resembles Scarlet Witch so I am using those pics as reference.)

 Intro: In the DCAMU she would be introduced in the movie Justice League: Dark. This version of the universe is different and happens a little differently. Some events of the story may be out of order or alter but I will try to keep most of the accuracy. 

[the-bees-cheese]

maevy full character sheet

introduction:

Name: Maeverin Eorla Featherstep

alias(es): maevy (preferred name; nobody calls her maeverin), mav (closest friends and partner)

pronouns: she/her

height: 3’0” (1m)

sexuality: sapphic

gender: female

age(current): 40 (approx. equivalent to 25 in humans)

native language(s): common tongue

other spoken language(s): elvish, dwarfish, sylvan/fae

hobbies: baking, poetry, stargazing/astronomy

zodiac sign: capricorn sun, gemini moon, virgo rising

likes: music, tea, cooking, watching/studying nature and magic, learning about new things

dislikes: performing for crowds, intentional ignorance, fish (food), violence, being cold

fear(s): fish (animal), failure, the ocean

rationality(1-10): 8

emotionality(1-10): 5

introvert or extrovert(1-10): 2.5

date of birth: january 18th

birthplace: the same hole her family has lived in for generations

current residence: see above

culture(s) they grew up with: the northern halflings her family and shire are a part of

rolemodel/ person they look up to: her mentor from school/university

apperance:

species: halfling

eye color: dark blue

hair color: mousy, ashy light brown

hair style: wavy, always in an incredibly messy low bun or braids

skin tone: very pale, heavily freckled, quick to blush and burn

weight: 40lbs

body type: generally small. stockier in build as per usual, but long-limbed and delicate-handed for her species

other physical characteristics: agile and relatively graceful, but weak.

scar(s): n/a

usual facial expression: thoughtful, soft.

body mod(s): n/a

career:

current ocupation(s): bard, magic researcher

former occupation(s): student

backstory

childhood: such a shy girl! raised among a large family of entertainers, she loved dancing and playing music but hated performing for unfamiliar people.

education: went to a university in a bugger city, double majoring in bard magic and metaphysics and graduating with honors.

important person(s): her favorite teacher and mentor of many years, who practically raised her once she was in school. mysteriously disappeared a few years back?

traits:

strength(s): her smarts, creativity, and dexterity/agility

weakness(es): her physical strength and fear of failure

special skill(s): figuring things out, puzzles. also girl can COOK

weapon(s) of choice: guitar/lute, words (dagger only if absolutely necessary)

combat style: magic, but she tries to avoid violence and conflict if at all possible

positive trait(s): LOVES to teach others, always notices the little details

negative trait(s): easily annoyed by loud/sudden noises, exceptionally messy

optimist or pessimist(1-10): 4

relationships:

bad habit(s): chews on her pens, always tapping fingers/pens on tables and such, which drives her family NUTS

best friend(s): her older cousin frances, tally

childhood/former friend(s): her other cousins, neighbors

partner(s): unnamed/unclaimed ace centaur girlfriend (PLEASE SEND AN ASK IF YOU’D LIKE TO CREATE HER!!!!)

love intrest(s): see above

enemy(ies): her petty, rude grandmother, and her phy ed teacher from school

family:

pet(s)/animal(s): little brown mouse named tally

parent(s): saorise featherstep (mother), wheaton thobb (father)

sibling(s): two younger twin siblings, wilhelmina and branston

other relative(s): hundreds. most notably, her great-great-great gramma eorla featherstep, who was an incredible dancer. she earned the name “featherstep” in the first place, and maevy was named after her.

health:

mental health: girl is anxious as hell, all the time. she might have adhd or autism but also i don’t know if those things are recognized in the world/era she lives in

disabilities: see above

physical conditions: carpal tunnel, BAD. all she does is play instruments and write. she spends most of her time with her hands/wrists taped to try to help it.

addiction(s): fruitcake

other:

aesthetic: hobbit.

clothing style: simple, she will NOT wear pants (in favor of skirts and dresses) or shoes (halfling). she likes little lacy/embroidered accents on clothes, but otherwise sticks to browns and greens and won’t put extra effort into embellishing an outfit.

favorite food: fruitcake, buttered biscuits, tea

favorite color: green

alignment: neutral good

eating habit(s): hearty. she’s a halfling, what do you expect?

sleeping habit(s): poor at best. she gets distracted and stays up late, and wakes up early by preference

[maeve-ho]

[ AMBER MIDTHUNDER, TWENTY FOUR, SHE/HER ] - Have you seen [ MAEVE HO ]lately? From what I’ve heard, they’re a [ CIS FEMALE ] [ FAE ]. People around town have said that they’re [ RESILIENT, INTELLIGENT, ADAPTABLE ] but also [ SKITTISH, IRRITABLE, IMPATIENT ]. Rumor has it, they’re [ FOR ] rebuilding the glamour around Halloweentown.

THE BASICS;

FULL NAME: Maeve Niamh Ho

NICKNAMES: Mae, Maevie 

GENDER: Cis Female

PRONOUNS: She/ Her

BIRTHDAY/AGE: November 1st

HOMETOWN: Portland, Oregon

OCCUPATION: Unumployeed

SPECIES: Fae

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

PERSONALITY;

POSITIVES: Resilient, intelligent, adaptable

NEGATIVES: Skittish, irritable, impatient

ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio 

PERSONALITY TYPE: INTP-T

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

FAMILY;

MOTHER: Leia Ho

FATHER: Connor Ho (Nee. O’Sullivan)

SIBLINGS: Seamus Ho and Rois Ho

BREIF OVERVIEW;

Disordered Eating Mention

All it took was a youthful promise to change the course of Maeve’s life. Promise you’ll eat when I ask you to. A silly promise, one she made to a boyfriend who seemed to think that a promise was enough to force her disordered eating out. It had seemed like nothing to smile and lie, pretty teeth flashing as she repeated the words, “I promise I’ll eat when you ask me to.” She had known it was a mistake then when his baby soft face turned sharp enough to cut. 

“Do you know what the Fae Folk are, Maevie?” And suddenly her irish grandmother’s warnings on promises and name stealing bounced through her skull, cracking the veneer of control she felt she had. She was bound now, tricked into a promise with someone claiming to be fae. Maeve was superstitious enough not to attempt to break her promise. 

So she ate when he asked and it felt almost okay for a moment, even if she had been tricked body and soul into force rehabilitation. She never forgave him, never forgot the power of his words, but at least she had been lulled into a sense of relaxation, he had never tried to trick her again. Or she had thought until she saw that smile again, nearly a year later when he used his promise to make her eat something he brought her.

Human to fae she passed. The world tilted, her control gone, introduction to something sharp and different in the hands of the man who changed her. He was kinder to her now that she was not human, but his pleasure dwindled and soon he became bored. There was a mixture of relief and horror that washed through her as he told her his plan to drop her off somewhere she could learn the world. She wouldn’t be tethered to him any longer, beholden to his lessons on the world, but she would be alone.

FACTS;

Maeve has literally just been dropped off in town, without a place to stay or a job. She considered trying to survive in the world without finding any fae to help her, but she’s terrified of the harm that she could potentially do with her newfound status

She was working as a dog groomer in Raleigh, North Carolina while finishing her degree in music production, she did not finish it. 

Maeve moved away from Portland, Oregon at nineteen and left behind her family. They still talk constantly, but her sudden change in species has had her pulling away from them

Her father was adopted into an Irish family and so Maeve grew up hearing all about Irish mythology and irish fae; this partly contributes to her general fear of what she’s become

Though she is terrified of the situation she had been placed in, she refuses to let this keep her down for too long, if only to spite the fae who turned her

[ghostsofmemories]

hi hi 5, 9 and 14 for the ask game 🧑‍🏭

5. What's your personal goal?

i don't really know! so far i'm on track for the full 50k, and this project writes really fast, but i'm sort of trying to force myself to slow it down a bit because i love it and i just want to write it forever. the original 40k from before i changed the point of view was done in like??? a couple weeks???? which is SUPER abnormal for me but that was also during the summer before i got my job.

9. When did you come up with the idea?

so the stages of coming up with it were something like this:

phase 1 (2018): hmm the name Laurel is such a good name i love it so much. too bad it doesn't fit the vibe of anything i'm ever going to do in my whole life

phase 2 (2020): i am obsessed with the name Evangeline. Maevis is also a really good name omg there are so many good names out there

phase 3 (early 2021): you know what, the names Laurel, Evangeline, and Maevis sound pretty good together actually. i like that. and i'm about to give up on insect poison, i hope something clicks and i get to use them.

phase 4 (spring 2021): idk how to explain this from that point of view anymore but basically Clove's life hit me like a truck and i KNEW he had to have 3 sisters (i almost gave him 4 actually, there was going to be another middle sister named Alma, but she just ended up being a dimmer version of Maevis), and i also realized the names fit really well in the same project together. the funny thing is, i didn't actually like Clove's name for the first month or so into the project and was absolutely prepared to change it the second a better one came along, but it really is his name and there definitely isn't a better one.

overall with this project i've stressed so much more about the names of side characters and the colors of things. i might make a separate post about this but names are SO important to the aesthetic of this story and are really important to character's personalities. like Cathy definitely has the most "normal" and lively name of everyone and that's also on purpose. maybe i can get into it another time. but this is long enough already lmao

14. Which of your characters would die first in a zombie apocalypse?

definitely Evangeline, but Jasper is a close second. Laurel is very level-headed, self-sufficient, and smart; Clove is a quick thinker and has better self-preservation instincts than the rest of the crew, and Maevis is really tough and would high-key be excellent at zombie fighting. Evangeline would die because she sees ghosts so the mere concept of a zombie being real would give her a heart attack and take her out because it doesn't make sense. Jasper would die because i don't think he could make himself kill anything unless he a) had to protect someone like his niece or b) was told that his brother's disappearance would be solved if he made it through the apocalypse.

thanks for the asks!! i am literally in love with this book and i'll talk about all day if someone will let me lmao

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 54

WARNING: This chapter contains brief mentions of gore and themes that some readers may find disturbing or alarming. 

Nenani could not stop thinking about the strange boy in the tree. What did he mean that she smelled like fire? They all had been sitting around a fire the night before, so should they not all smell like fire? Why only her? Or did he mean that he could smell her magic? Did magic have a smell? And if Haiyer did have magic, as the stranger boy insisted, why had he not bloomed yet? Had her mother put a seal on him as well? No, that did not make sense at all. Their mother ran from Aidus out of fear that he would kill Haiyer for not having magic.

She suddenly had a lot of questions for Maevis once they got back to the castle. And perhaps a few for her mother as well.

They did encounter a number of other bodies as they walked, forever sleeping among the tangled roots, but they did not stop to inspect them as they had the others. Keral’s eyes studied them as they passed, but he kept a steady pace that Farris matched. The kitchen master did not even look at them, and Nenani was growing concerned that he might find them upsetting. There wasn’t much Farris could not face, and the sheer practicality of his manner made it all the more worrying to Nenani. She hated the idea of him being upset. Not mad, she was quite accustomed to that. But the idea of Farris being upset was disconcerting. His eyes seemed to dart away the moment a body came into view, his shoulders tensing up, and there was a subtle shift in his breathing. He didn’t want to see them. 

She couldn’t blame him.

 ………

It was barely an hour passed mid-day when they finally came across a road. It was made of white and grey gravel, pounded flat over years of heavy use, with neatly spaced gouges down the center marking the path of cart wheels. The road looked like a long pale scar carved into the forest, cutting through copses of trees that had stood hundreds of years before there was ever a road. Ten minutes following it and they happened upon the first gate.

Two obelisk-like pillars stood sentry on either side of the road with an ornate iron gate strung between them. The metal bars had been shaped and pounded into elaborate twists and curves. Though it was clearly meant to be a display of wealth, there was something dominating and commanding about it.

Atop each of the obelisks were marbled granite spheres with trees carved into them. Keral rearded the gate with a scrutinizing eye. 

“For a man with the reputation for being very hospitable, his garden gate sure don’t look it.”

“Doesn't matter the man’s reputation,” Farris replied. “All gates are meant to keep folks out. Be a lot more suspicious if it looked more welcoming. Besides all that, a gate means we’ve made it. So we can get on with the rest of this madness and get back to the castle.”

The gates themselves were locked tight by a severe-looking padlock, but Keral still gave it an experimental jiggle that sent the iron works screeching and moaning in protest. A few moments later, as though having rung a bell, a figure emerged from behind a bend in the road. He walked quickly, but his short stature and portly middle made his walk more of a waddle. And if the flushed complexion and puffing cheeks were any indication, he was not very pleased. His eyes looked between Farris and Keral’s faces and then to Jae and Nenani, who both were peeking out from behind the brothers’ heads. His eye narrowed and he flung his arm out to his right in a manic gesture.

“Deliveries are to be made at the red gate,” the man said, waving his arm. “How many times must we tell you bloody...”

The man paused, suddenly taking note of Keral’s coat and its color. A little of the blood in his cheeks drained away. Keral’s easy stance straightened and his muscles and tendons tightened as he assumed a more commanding presence.

“Deliveries?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “We aren’t here to deliver anythin’. We’re in need of some assistance as it happens.”

The man swallowed thickly.

“W-well, if you’re needing food, you’ll have to come back later,” the man said. “Alms are only distributed on Fridays. And His Lordship isn’t in residence just now.”

“I know he ain’t here. And we’re not looking for alms either,” Keral said. “My name is Keral Athair, Captain of His Majesty’s Rangers and I’m here to claim quarters for myself and my companions.”

The man balked, and a condescending scoff was just at his lips when his brain reminded it whom he was speaking to and he disguised it behind a cough. He readjusted his stance to match Keral’s, but his shorter stature and more rotund figure did not quite make the effect. “To claim quarters? Sir?”

“Aye. I’m sure you're familiar with the practice, ain’t ye? A man in service to His Majesty may call upon the lords of the kingdom to – ”

“Yes, yes. I am aware, sir, of what claiming quarters means. We just don’t see many rangers up this way and so it has been quite some time since we’ve had...the honor to host,” he said. “And may I ask why you’re here to grace us with your presence?”

“On business for His Majesty,” Keral replied and supplied no more.

Nenani watched the exchange with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. She had never seen anyone talk to Keral the way the sentry did. In her experience, he commanded a great deal of respect. It was a new proposition to witness anything to the contrary. And if Farris’s expression was any sort of a tell, he felt similarly. She wondered if it would be better for him to say who they and Jae were. If a captain of the Rangers did not merit an immediate invitation inside, then perhaps the king’s adopted son and the two heirs to Silvaara would. But Keral remained tight-lipped.

The sentry looked very uncomfortable and ill equipped to know what to do, and it was clearly annoying Keral, who snorted with impatience.

“So then might we be brought up to the house?” he asked shortly. “I’ll need to make use of your falconer to send the king a message. It is of some importance.”

The last part was said with an exasperated inflection. Finally the man seemed to understand well enough, and he stumbled forward to open the gate. But his expression was curiously dour. The iron gates were pushed aside with the screaming of their hinges as the man stepped to the side and waved them in.

“Follow me, if you please.”

The sullen-faced man said nothing as he led them down the long drive. There was a stark contrast between the trees inside the gated property and those outside. While winter had ravaged the foliage of color and leaves, the manicured and pruned trees of the Brennan estate looked as though it were still midsummer.

They were lush and full of leaves, and there was only a splash of autumn colors here or there. The rest were all a verdant green as though suspended in perpetual summer.

“Does he have men tie the leaves back onto the tree?” Jae whispered to Keral. The ranger’s eyes remained steady and he only grunted noncommittally.

“Lord Brennan must be mighty proud of gardeners,” Farris said to their guide. “To be able to keep color like that in this cold.”

The sentry’s head shifted as he answered. “His Lordship takes great pride in his family’s estate and heritage. Maintaining Blythe trees takes a delicate hand and firm knowledge for them to keep evergreen.”

“So it’s not their natural state fer ‘em to be green like that this time ‘a year?” Farris asked.

“Those trees were cultivated by His Lordship’s ancestor more than eight hundred years ago,” he said. “It is a symbol of his house and is believed that so long as the Blythe trees stand, so shall the house of Brennan. So yes, sir, great pains are taken to keep the trees healthy and prospering. Their coloration is a consequence of the superior care they are given.”

Nenani was surprised at just how long it took for them to reach the house. The road took them though two more locked gates before the house came into view at last. Even then, it still took the group another ten minutes to transverse the long drive and arrive at the great stone entryway of the house.

It was easily the largest house she had ever seen. It wasn’t a castle in any sense of the word, but a grand house.Tan and dark stone stacked together in a very pleasing way to make tall strong walls topped with sloping roofs. A single large dormer overlooked the property. For a house, it had many windows and did not appear to have been built with defense in mind, unlike the Vhashallan castle. A vast meadow spread out behind the manor, and she could see the mountains in the distance.

And yet, the nagging voice in her head was buzzing again, much in the same way it had when they had first ventured into the forest. But she was quick to shake the feeling away. This house belonged to Lord Brennan. Her recollection of him was that he seemed very amiable and friendly. Her mother had taken such an immediate liking to him at the dinner. But his house, much like the forest that surrounded it, did not feel welcoming at all.

But then, she had to admit, how something looked upon first meeting did not always reflect the truth of it. She had experienced such a phenomenon time and time again since coming to Vhasshal. Farris and Keral were both such examples. And they were not in any state for being overly critical. So she ignored the little nagging voice. Looking to Farris and then to Keral, she felt secure enough to know there was nothing to worry about. It was nerves, she told herself. She was merely eager to return home.

……………….

A tall, thin woman giant waited for them at the front door. The sentry rushed ahead of them to whisper something in her ear, and she had to bend herself over for him to reach. Her expression did not change, and she merely nodded.

“I shall take it from here, then,” she said to him. “Please return to your post.”

In stark contrast to the sentry, the housekeeper was calm and composed, as though she had been expecting them all along. She was dressed all in a mottled black and dark green fabric and wore her large, hawkish nose proudly. Her small brown eyes stared down along its length. It was almost comical the way she held her head so far back, as though she were going to sneeze at any moment and wanted to be prepared.

“I do apologize, my lords,” she said. “But His Lordship is away at court on His Majesty’s invitation. But the hospitality of this house is at your disposal. I am afraid, though, you have caught us in a bit of an awkward time, however. Most of the rooms are under renovation and are not decent enough for occupation just yet. I have a few small rooms upstairs we put you up in.”

Keral did not meet the woman’s eye but instead gazed around at the house behind her. “We don’t need nothing fancy. A single room will do for all of us. And I’ll be needing to speak with your falconer as soon as possible.”

She dipped into a polite curtsy. “I shall send for him immediately. We also have accommodations more appropriate for the humans, sir, if you wish.”

Keral shook his head. “No. They’re stayin’ with us, ma’am, thanks all the same.”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly. “Of course, sir. I only meant that...”

“They stay with us. We don’t plan on intruding for very long and they’re tired from the journey. If you could show us to a room, we’ll sort it all out ourselves.”

The woman dipped again and made a vague gesture to follow her.

Through the main entry, they spilled out into the atrium. The floors were a dark-colored wood, polished to a high sheen, as were the walls. Marble pillars drew the eye to the ornate wooden ceiling and the carved stone statuettes at the corners, like little stone spies. Tapestries were hung along each wall leading to the main staircase. It too was made of the same dark wood. However, the housekeeper led them down a smaller corridor off to the side, a servant’s entrance, and they followed her to a much more humble set of narrow stairs that led them to a modest guest room. There were three beds lined up along a wall close to the only window. There was a small table on one end of the room and a simple fireplace at the other.

“I shall send the maid up to light the fire for you gentlemen,” she said. Farris went to one of the beds and helped Nenani down from his pack before slinging it from his shoulders. Keral did the same with Jae but did not pulled Haiyer from his pocket. “Shall I send up some supper for you as well, my lord?”

“You’re most kind, ma’am,” Keral replied. “If it’s not too much trouble, could ye have some brought up fer the humans as well?”

She gave the smallest of smiles and inclined her head. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Miss Embrews, if you should need anything else. Once the falconer has arrived I shall send a footman to inform you.”

“I would appreciate it,” he replied. And with that, Miss Embrews turned and shut the door behind her. Her footsteps faded away and only then did Keral’s stance relax. He turned to his brother. “That was odd.”

Farris snorted. “That sentry was a prickly lil’ bastard.”

“He was,” Jae agreed, bouncing experimentally on the bed before flopping back. “Why did you tell them who we were? Wouldn’t that have...I dunno, put more of a fire under their arse?”

Keral’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in all the details. “Hm. Eh, might have. But I have a funny feeling. Better play it safe and not say anythin’. Fer now.”

Nenani’s ear tingled. Keral’s senses and intuitions were sharp and well honed. If he was picking up on something just as she was, perhaps he was right and they needed to proceed carefully. Lord Brennan may be genial and kind, but that was no guarantee that his servants were anything of the sort.

“It feels weird here,” Nenani admitted. “The forest felt that way too. Like...something saying we shouldn’t be here.”

Farris nodded. “Aye. Have to agree with ye two. Somethin’s off. Don’t smell right.”

Keral had been walking the room, assessing it and poking at the walls experimentally. He kicked one of the bed’s legs and upon Farris’s comment, he spun on his heels to face his brother, eyes alight with inspiration. “Ye know what it reminds me of, Farris? When Mum would get worked up over something and she’d spend two days washing and polishing everything in the house until it sparkled.”

Farris’s eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell, yer right. Even smells like it.”

“Everything’s too clean,” Keral said. He looked around the room again with new eyes. “Even the castle ain’t this clean.”

“If there’s no one living here,” Jae said, pushing himself onto his elbows. “Doesn’t it make sense that it’d be clean?”

“Might be. But ye remember when Warren had the Queen’s apartments renovated before the weddin’?” Keral asked. “All the hullabaloo and all?”

Jae nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Ye remember how filthy the place was all the while? With all the supplies and dirt being tracked everywhere from the workers?”

Jae’s lazy expression widened with clarity. “Yeah. I do remember that.”

Keral nodded. “Aye. She says they’re renovatin’ most ‘a the rooms? Where’s the evidence of it? Where’s the supplies? Where are the workers? The dirt?”

Farris made a displeased rumble. “We need to send that message out quick and get outta here.”

Keral nodded and reached into his pocket to fish Haiyer out and set him down next to Jae. The little boy sprang up to his feet and spent several moments happily celebrating his freedom by frog hopping in circles around the other boy.

“I’ll send the message and we can rest here for the night. Just gotta keep our eyes open fer anythin’ off. And we’ll move on tomorrow with some supplies and maybe a cart. Whatever they’re doin’ up this way, I’ll need more than a funny feeling to inspect further. My position gives me a lot of freedom to dig around, but I’ll need more that to do much of anything. Right now at least.”

“He was really nice at the dinner,” Nenani said. “Mama really seemed to like him.”

“No surprise,” Farris said. “He has a good reputation at court. The king likes him.”

“Haven’t ever spoken with him myself,” Keral said. “But he always seemed a friendly enough man. Not one to show off or bring attention to his person. An odd trait in a courtier.”

Jae snorted. “You mean like Colem does?”

“No one does it like Colem,” Keral laughed. “But say what you want of the man. Personally, I find him to be quite amusing.”

Jae glared up at the ranger. “You only say that because you know how much he annoys me.”

Keral grinned but did not deny the accusation. “Believe it or not, there’s a lot more to that loony bastard than ye might think.”

Jae looked as though he wanted to reply, but they were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Farris, who had sat down on the bed, reached out to coax Nenani closer to him. Keral motioned for Jae and Haiyer to remain where they were and then turned towards the door. He cracked it open and asked, “Yes?”

“I’m here to build the fire, milord,” said a young and high pitched voice. Keral pulled the door open to reveal a young maid with thin mousy brown hair tucked up under a simple cap. She, like the housekeeper, was very thin, with a hawkish nose. It was painfully obvious there were shared relations. She hurried inside, awkwardly carrying a load of firewood and some flint. “It won’t be but a moment, milords.”

She made quick work of setting the logs inside, but as she worked with the flint, striking it repeatedly to bring up a spark, her eyes darted to the side every so often. Jae, who sat on the bed nearest to her, watched and did not miss the quick glances his way or the pursed lips. Looking to Keral, he shared a bemused look. The ranger only gave a small nod and Jae got up from his spot, taking Haiyer’s hand, and they moved further up the bed and closer to Farris.

The maid rose to her feet as the fire began to burn properly and she gave a small bow. “The footman should be here shortly with your food, milords.”

Keral nodded. “Thank you.”

As the girl departed, a tall middle-aged man crested the stairs carrying a tray. The maid stepped gingerly aside as he moved into the room, and she gave him an amused grin before dashing off back down the narrow stairs. The same smile graced the footman’s face, but dropped the moment the maid was out of sight and he turned to the room. He sat the tray upon the table and turned to Keral.

“Will there be anything else, milord?”

“No, this will do fine. Any news of the falconer?”

“He lives in a cottage away from the house, sir. But Miss Embrews has sent for him. Shouldn’t be much longer, sir.”

Though displeased, Keral nodded. “Good.”

“If it pleases milord, I could take whatever message you may have and meet him halfway with it.”

“No, I will wait for him. Thanks all the same.”

The footman looked disappointed but gave a short nod and quitted the room. The food he had brought consisted of an iron pot and two bowls with a loaf of bread. Farris went over to it, taking the bread in his hands and scrutinizing it.

“Their ovens run too hot. Bottom’s burned,” he said as he dropped it back onto the tray. “I’d kick Quin in the arse fer tryin’ to serve that t’ anyone.”

“Not every baker can be as amazing as yers, Farris,” Keral replied, looking at it for himself. “Looks perfectly fine to me.”

“Say the man who eats dirt,” Farris quipped back. He pulled the lid off the pot. Inside was a cream colored soup with various vegetables and hunks of pale meat. “Looks under seasoned.”

Keral rolled his eyes.

“Gods forgive anyone who under-seasons food around you,” Keral grunted. “Just ladle it out and complain later.”

Farris merely grunted and took up one of the bowls to ladle in the soup. As he filled the first bowl and went to grab the second, a sudden flash of gold light filled the room, startling the lot of them.

“Wait!” cried a familiar voice. An orb of transparent gold hovered over Keral’s head, making quick circles around him. Startled, Keral shied away from it but frowned when recognition hit him.

“Ellis!” Haiyer cried out in delight, getting to his feet and rushing to the end of the bed. “You came back!”

Annoyed, Keral resisted the urge to swat at the fairy. “Oh, back already are we? Where’s that mage ‘a yer’s lass? Don’t suppose he’ll be turnin’ himself in, eh?”

Her voice was frantic and quick and no one could make out what she was saying. She flew away to fly laps around Farris’s head.

“Gods piss on it, girl!” Farris barked. “We can’t understand a word. Slow down.”

The fairy’s golden light took on a red hue as though manifesting her frustration. She flew to the soup pot and slammed the lid back onto the pot and stood on top of it.

“Don’t eat the soup!” she said, breathless.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Keral asked, the annoyance turning to anger.

“Poisoned?” Farris asked, his expression matching his brother’s.

“No!” she said. “People! There are people in it!”

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