#her strong usage of dark magic allowed for it to exist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sepublic · 4 years

Text

Coven Bindings- Even more restrictive than they seem?

@aguigenae and I were talking about how coven bindings would even work, going with the idea that Belos’ nine magical categories are purely arbitrary, and they came up with a chilling yet fitting concept;

What if witches with coven bindings can’t actually develop new spells, only learn and perform pre-established ones? What if witches are told to believe that all of the spells they can do are the full extent of that ‘category’, when in reality they’re not being excluded from other forms of magic, they’re actually having their magic turned off completely, save for a select list of spells that the bindings are programmed to include? And because experimentation and magic-mixing is discouraged, nobody realizes there are spells they SHOULD be able to cast according to how the coven bindings claim to work, based on alleged categories, but can’t- Because those categories don’t actually exist!

What Aguigenae suggested makes a lot of sense, it’d be easier to seal magic with a coven binding if it’s really just a list of spells you’re allowed to do, VS all magic banned except for potentially infinite spells of this one type. Witches are taught only to learn spells already pre-established in textbooks, not create and try different, new ones; Because then that will expose the limitations of coven bindings when witches inevitably run into them, and multi-track learning can put a hole into Belos’ claims.

The insistence on practicing only what’s been established is likely to hide the truth of how the coven bindings really work; Because if people realize how much smaller their options already are, and they’re already hesitant about the bindings in general, they might revolt! Like, a Plant Witch will discover a never-before-seen plant, but then realize they can’t recreate it with a spell- Because their magic isn’t banned EXCEPT for plants, it’s ONLY plant spells, but not EVERY plant spell possible, so to speak.

Suddenly, Belos’ system is even more insidious, because he’s not just dividing magic; He’s halting development of it entirely! It’s possible actual magical categories exist, but they subscribe more along elemental lines found in nature (hence Luz’s glyphs), not the fake categories that Belos devised, meant to fit in with societal roles and functions as part of a larger machine. And witches in covens can’t explore the height of their magical potential, because not only does that category not even exist technically (with the exception of the Plant Coven apparently), but there’s a specific set limit that Belos has secretly established, an invisible glass ceiling that nobody is even aware of; And if witches run into it, they’re gaslit into thinking it’s because they’re too weak to climb even higher, or some other propaganda.

This could even apply to the Coven Heads; Perhaps they don’t even HAVE coven bindings yet claim to do… And this allows them to perform and create new spells that other witches in their coven can’t, so long as those spells seem to fit within the category that Belos devised. If witches who have actual bindings can’t do the same spells, it’s actually because they’re just not skilled nor talented enough. It artificially maintains the power of the Coven Heads similarly to how the Emperor’s Coven does, but in a way arguably more insidious; Because people don’t even realize it’s because of their bindings that they’re not as strong, they just think it’s their own lack of ability!

And it makes the Coven Heads seem much more dedicated and skilled than they actually are, when in reality they’re given a hidden advantage from the very start. It’s an unfair system that’s cheating against you. It also adds to the illusion (not just for that one coven) that witches with coven bindings CAN innovate and create new spells, and it’s just your fault for not being good enough, nothing to do with a rigged system or anything…

This could tie into how the Coven System robs witches of abilities they naturally have, and treats them as privileges to earn back- Or even just earn in the first place! Belos won’t let people have what they already own, he steals it from them and forces witches to prove they’re ‘worthy’ to have it. There could even be spells that don’t quite fit into Belos’ nine categories, so either he arbitrarily places spells into types with no room for overlap (perhaps claiming Fire as Potions magic because it can heat chemicals, even if it has uses in many other covens), and/or he’s open about spells not belonging to any of the nine categories; These special spells are of course exclusive to only the Emperor’s Coven.

Even if all nine covens were to band against the Emperor’s Coven, they’d have a smaller range of spells to use than the covenscouts, especially since the Emperor’s Coven can actually invent new spells to begin with. A typical member of the Emperor’s Coven has more magical potential and spells to choose from, than a group of nine witches from each coven combined! Belos acknowledges spells that don’t fit into his nine categories, as just another privilege for the Emperor’s Coven to further inflate its power, and maintain a distance. Some students might try to learn these ‘exclusive’ spells in preparation/advance for joining the Emperor’s Coven, maybe even joining so they can hold onto these special spells as well- It’d just add another dark layer to how Eda probably only wanted to join the Emperor’s Coven to keep her magic.

Likewise, if you see new bard magic done by a covenscout, that you can’t do? That’s probably because it’s actually mixed magic, and/or you’re just not good enough! There could be spells discovered AFTER your binding was applied, and thus your binding doesn’t include it! To maintain the ‘illusion’ of the coven bindings and his magical categories, Belos probably has hidden updates to his coven bindings to include more spells; And it could create the illusion that later generations in his Coven System have more access to magic than previous ones, because the Emperor’s curriculum is ‘superior’. The Emperor’s Coven can’t admit the truth because it breaks their illusion of choice; Witches aren’t so much excluding themselves from certain spells, as much as they are binding themselves to a very select group that seems similar enough to fit within Belos’ fake taxonomy.

It’s even possible Belos plays into the holes of his claims, by passing it off as wild magic! Perhaps he insists that when the Titan created magic and blessed the Boiling Isles with it, it only devised a set amount of spells approved for common witches to utilize. Spells created or found beyond that approved list are a dangerous type of heresy, a usage of magic not within the Titan’s plan and design. Journeying into unpredictable territory can yield unknown consequences, such as Eda’s Owl Beast form- So Belos claims. As Aguigenae put it; You join a coven and can’t use one of your favorite spells anymore because you came up with it, even though it should fit your binding- Must’ve been wild magic, you shouldn’t have been messing with that!

Any spells not approved by the Titan are blasphemy, perversions of its magic that weren’t created with the safety of witches in mind, with no part in its hierarchy- An outsider’s magic. Only the Titan can create new spells and mix magic… And of course, its trusted few in the Emperor’s Coven- Who are skilled and loyal enough to be trusted with creating new spells, experimenting, and performing forays into unexplored forms of magic. Only they are proven to do what is dangerous or otherwise blasphemous for the common witch to do, because only the Emperor’s Coven has the Titan’s approval. The Emperor’s Coven is beloved and chosen by the Titan, to oppose them is to oppose its will! Experimentation is dangerous, and if a spell wasn’t approved for the common witch by the Titan, it was for a reason…

Again, that’s why experimentation and multi-track learning is frowned upon and even banned by Belos; Because people like Luz or the Detention Kids can show that new spells aren’t as dangerous and unpredictable as Belos claims them to be! Or at the very least, the benefits of experimentation FAR outweigh the cons, and it shouldn’t be restricted to a select, ‘privileged’ group- Especially if that groups exists to enforce a hierarchy and dictatorship on behalf of the Emperor. Even the Emperor’s Coven would discourage innovation, as only new spells that are relevant to its military interests and control would be researched.

It’s all, as Luz might put it, “Fiendishly clever”; It’s a philosophy that keeps witches even weaker than they’re led to believe, while discouraging them from experimenting… It artificially maintains a hierarchy with even more new spells for the Emperor’s Coven, all while gaslighting some into thinking that if they can’t do the same spells as their Coven Heads, it’s because they’re just not good enough; NOT because their Head Witch secretly lacks a coven binding to begin with, actually!

Again, this is all conjecture. If coven bindings weren’t “all magic banned except this type” and actually “all magic that fits into this made-up type”, it’d just prove the system to be even more corrupt and fake than it already is. It’d expose Belos’ lie, because the coven system doesn’t even let witches ‘focus’ on the type of magic they’re best, because they’ll never go beyond what he explicitly approved of thanks to his bindings… It’s stagnation everywhere except where Belos has control and can use it for himself, and it fools witches into believing in their own lack of ability. Even if they were to all band together and rise up, their magic would STILL be lesser than the Emperor’s Coven.

#the owl house #the owl house belos #emperor belos #covens #coven system #emperor's coven #speculation #theory

65 notes · View notes

vampiresuns · 4 years

Text

Day 3: Magic

@arcana-echoes‘ masterlist for the dynamic trio, but two days later with iced coffee.

CW: allusions of drowning. No one drowns or is brought to harm, but Milenko’s magic has to do with water immersion, so I have to give a heads up.

Aelius Anatole | Extracts Of The Diaries of A. Anatole Radošević On His 17th Year

As it can be read in the fic linked, Anatole has both language and light magic. He is adept in both of them whether in his generic timeline, or his apprentice timeline.

His light magic includes light manipulation, creating sources of light, creating transitory objects out of light. He can also capture other sources of light and, with the aid of his language magic, transfuse them into another vessel.

One of his favourite things to do, and one of the first ways it manifested, is making water sparkle like it’s being hit with sun-rays. It’s a nice soothing trick he finds himself doing when idle.

He found out that he can circumvent his way around other kinds of magic by manipulating light sources and light itself. For example, all optical illusions are by default light tricks, since the way we see things is by light reflecting on them. That way, he doesn’t need to learn how to manipulate the object, when he can manipulate the light which allows you to see it.

That way, he minimised learning other magical specialities, usually just studying only its principles, and finds a way to work on the effect using light as the cause.

He acts both as a source/creator of light, and a conductor of light.

On the other hand, his language magic entails: enhanced language learning, glyph usage, and it gives him easier access to other forms of magic which depend on language from linguistic manipulation and creation, to incantations, spells, and the like.

It’s most defining characteristics are Anatole being a language sponge, and it’s intentionality.

As a result Anatole learns languages faster than the average person, with more ease, and usually to a bigger depth. He still has to learn them: he is not able to speak or understand every language just because it is spoken to him, and when he uses language magic, if he doesn’t know the language to any degree, it’s less effective. This is how he speaks 9 languages with fluidity and is seeking to learn more.

He is able to tell the intention in people’s words, so he can tell if you’re being honest or not, or if there’s something other to your words. For example, if someone lies to him, while he is not able to magically know what truth the lie is hiding or deflecting, he can tell it is a lie; he is usually smart enough to figure the rest on his own. Thus, lying, bluffing, schmoozes, and empty flattery has little effect on him, unless you’re truly, really skilled at them.

He discovered his language works not on volume, but on intention and action, so as long as he is able to find an equivalent for action symbols and enact them, he himself becomes the print of the magic, it’s caster and the vessel it is poured into. He is also able to write things down, and work around that with his magic, for example: glyphs or simply writing a spell down will make the spell work for him.

Downsides of this are: he is not immune to language burnout, or to overstimulation. His is a magic that works both with intuition and brain power, and if you mix it with his ADHD, there can be some days he is more sensitive to the receptive part of his magic, and get tired or overwhelmed easily. It is exhausting to walk through a city and constantly filter through everything everyone says that’s within hearing range.

Any sort of spell casting, creation, incantation, or anything of the like, requires something in exchange: usually magic seems like creating things out of thin air, but Anatole knows matter is never destroyed, simply transformed, and this is one of the most important principles which rules his magic. It is easier to create things with light than from words, because as long as he has access to the sun, light is more or less a constant source of matter to transmute into something else. His own energy will only be affected when he’s in absolute and total darkness. Doing anything with language magic that isn’t learning or filtering, will immediately use his energy. While his stamina is decent, running on the higher end, he is not inexhaustible.

He is, also, generally able to fend himself with potion making and that part of alchemy, this is mostly because alchemy relies on symbols which are language, and because making potions tend to come with “arbitrary”/set rules, and grammar tends to work in the same way. He is generally able to enhance whatever other type of magic with language, altering or augmenting the desired effect. For the longest time, he did not notice he did this, and he only noticed because when he magically dyed his hair, the blonde he got was more iridescent or incandescent than when applied by someone else.

His gate is a winter wonderland. It’s a perpetually snowy forest, with an ever shining winter sun. You access it through a river — the way to cross the river varies — and in the middle of it, there is a cottage which responds to spoken word. It has easy access to the Hierophant’s realm* if you go East, Strength’s if you go South, and the Realm of Swords if you go West. He doesn’t go much to the latter, the Ace of Swords usually meeting him on the river if he must.

*Anatole does not have Hierophant Patronage, but he has a strong connection to someone who stands for this card, so his relationship to the Hierophant is usually one which reminds him to go to his roots. It’s the affection one feels for the child of a very good friend.

Amparo Cassano | Greenhouses Filled With Ghosts

(art by virink, source)

With Patronage of Death and the Ace of Wands, Amparo has both animancy and elemental (sand/glass) magic.

Amparo’s magic works in the same way as the conductor of a séance does: she is a gate for energy, not someone who controls death, ghosts or those who have already passed. She is able to sense and summon spirits based on the energy imprint they leave in their wake.

She is also able to see them, though not all the time. She would be the quickest one to grasp Lucio’s ‘ghost’, and with less effort, because she intuitively knows what to look for.

If she honed her magic a little bit to the left, she would be able to control energetic fields altogether.

Her magic becomes stronger once Death stops being so overtaken by Valdemar. While most of what she does with it is out of training her ‘magic muscles’ and training herself to see what others can’t (plus her natural tendency to dig into affairs until she finds a cause for them), her magic is meant to be connected to her patron arcana, acquiring a qualitative jump after Death is able to move with more space.

She is also meant to take over the other animancer of the Cassano family: Valerian Cassano, one of Anatole’s great grandfather, who is, coincidentally, also a man of theatre and Opera, just like Amparo is a ballerina, performer and Opera singer.

To her, ghosts, and the energy people leave — which is what she calls ghosts, traces of something else — are like greenhouses. The are transparent, yet you still have to walk into them, and they do not hold flora in their natural environment, but in a reproduction of it. Yet, much can be learnt by this reproduction.

Since her animancy works with energy, she is intuitively able to read on people’s, making her vibe checks impeccable, as she is able to tether to people: either to find them following their energy if she concentrates, or to call them to her. Sometimes, she does this unaware that she is doing it. One example is when she isn’t the apprentice, but Milenko or Anatole, when they would be able to feel a tug towards wherever Amparo is.

She is limited by distance, amicability of the spirit, and her own energy.

When it comes to her elemental magic she is able to manipulate rocks into sand, and sand into glass — as she is able to crystallise matter — as well as directly manipulating glass. One of it’s earliest manifestations is Amparo playing with sand in the beach as a kid, sticking her hand into it and finding seaglass, unaware that she was the one producing it.

She tends to keep crystals around her from which glass can be made of, specially a vial of sand or of silica powder.

Once she has glass, which already exists or that she herself formed, she is able to manipulate it into different shapes, the most usual being trinkets and weapons. She too fences, and she is able to procure herself a sword made out of glass, as she is able to do the same with knives, or sometimes simply produce crystal shards.

She is limited by the existence of matter she can take, as unlike Anatole, she is not able to create, or seemingly create, things out of the blue, she needs to have the components already at her reach.

Out of the three, she is the one who reads Tarot or Runes the best. This is because each card or symbol represents a specific kind of energy, and she is able to pick up on it. Her cards are the chattiest.

Her gate is a vast wheat field on a stormy day. Every time a lightening struck the earth, it doesn’t scorch the wheat, but manifests a spirit which might want to communicate with her. To travel to other realms all she needs to do is pull out the right wheat and a lightening will strike and form a gate of passage for her.

She always knows which the right one is.

Milenko Radošević | No One’s Cassandra

Milenko’s magic is the flimsiest of the three, not because it’s weaker, but because that is how it works.

We’re going to need a bit of history for this one: Milenko’s grandparent, Ilnya Radošević was clairvoyant — however, they weren’t a trained one, so while Ilnya had a notorious amount of potential (they could’ve become a full fledge oracle) to the point their clairvoyance strongly manifested on its own, the gift wasn’t fully passed onto the generations because no one knew what it was. Ilnya themselves didn’t think they were clairvoyant. It has harder to pinpoint things when you don’t have a name for them.

However, it poured through this side of the family. Ambrosije, Milenko’s uncle who’s an archaeologist and explorer somehow always knows where things are and can see things so clearly without actually seeing them. Milenko’s mother Violeta has gut churning feelings, and she can almost visualise things with astounding clarity when music plays.

Milenko? Didn’t inherit the gift of prophecy or clairvoyance on itself but Milenko is able to see things, visualise concepts and situations, being able to have “visions” through water.

He gets transfixed by water in general, specially when it moves. It still works on still water, but it manifests better on water which moves. It also works with water that glistens.

It doesn’t happen at will, only at random.

Because he’s Milenko and that means something eventually has to be ominous enough to the point of “hey, quick question, what the fuck?” sometimes while completely transfixed by water, he walks into it and submerges himself completely.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s drowning. He isn’t. He “walks” into water and comes back completely soaked, aware he was in the water but also he didn’t see the water, he SAW. What? It depends. It doesn’t always translates to a prediction, he’s no one’s unheard Cassandra. Sometimes he just visualises things either his patron Arcana wants to show him, or the world at large, or things and concepts that come from his own mind.

For example, he has water vases where he moves water from one to the other to help him think. He is a writer, and sometimes this is a way to get visualisation of his own ideas and his own subconscious. He is a poet born in water.

One of the few non fencers of the family, he developed an affinity for water and is a swimmer instead — it helps that this magic ability makes him able to hold his breath for beyond average periods of time.

The first time he did the ‘walking in water’ thing he was 10, and his mothers almost had a heart attack. He came out completely unscattered, talking about what the colourful fishes had showed him. When taken to the doctor, he was cleared of any sort of damage and showed no signs of drowning or inhaling water. This is how they got derived to someone who was knowledgeable in magic, the ability finally getting a name.

The big side effect is that sometimes it makes him draw out completely of the world around him, or it comes to him in weird/bad timing moments. While he was travelling around while he was privately tutored, he was very careful not to be near the railings of the ship on his own, lest he fell in the water. He would be fine, his ability comes with no physical harm to him, the problem would arise when he emerged, and the ship would be gone if no one noticed he had fell. Has also come to him while someone pours out beer because it’s any kind of running water — brings out a whole different meaning to cracking a cold one open with the boys.

Is this why bathrooms are such a good source of ideas? Maybe. He isn’t one to dismiss the grandiose of a good bathroom trip.

Because his ability seems to show up the most at random, so even if he was taught how to hone it or about it, it still isn’t something he can control at will, he is the one who has learnt the most about other types of magic which are not his one. If you took everyone’s specific magic specialisation, and you left them with the bare bones of magic, Amparo and Anatole would still be adequate to genuinely good magicians, but Milenko would be the best.

His gate is, unsurprisingly, a system of underwater caves. It is perfectly fine to breathe through that water for anyone who is there, but most people who ever go with him (when someone else has gone with him that is) prefer the drier parts of it, as not everyone finds it easy to decide they don’t need to breathe or that they won’t drown.

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana oc #arcana echoes #echoes of the past: amparo #echoes of the past: anatole #echoes of the past: milenko #my writing #aelius anatole #amparo cassano #milenko

18 notes · View notes

mlpdestinyverse · 5 years

Photo

Destinyverse: The Dazzlings

"You can't turn away. We'll make you want to stay. We will be adored Tell us that you want us We won't be ignored It's time for our reward Now you need us. Come and heed us. Nothing can stop us now!" _________________

I said it once and I'll say it again; I really love the Dazzlings. It's mainly thanks to these lyrics from their song "Welcome to the Show" that I've developed many inspired ideas behind both the Dazzlings and siren species as a whole. First! Let's get into some siren Destinyverse headcanons before jumping into the history of our last three remaining pure-blooded sirens; Adagio, Sonata, and Aria. Summary Under The Cut!

THE SIRENS

In the world that once was, now known as the Pre-Equestrian era, the Ancient Alicorn of Mischief, Lugh, breathed life into beautiful beasts she named the Sirens. Based upon the pearlescent shores of the Isles of Anthemosa, the sirens were magical creatures of song and sea, with vibrant flowing fins, glimmering iridescent scales, and enchanting voices that were unmatched by anyone. An all-female species, the members of the tribe had their own means of magic-based procreation. Each family of sirens lived under a single alpha matriarch who established peace and order. Sirens were also granted a long lifespan of over 500 years.

Proud and exuberant by nature, sirens loved the sound of their own voices and music became a part of their everyday lives. A siren's song was thought to be an extension of who they were and was considered one of the most important aspects a siren saw in others as well as themselves. The sirens saw great meaning - even vulnerability - in sharing their music and being heard; sirens would sing to bond with others, to calm themselves, to comfort their offspring, or even to capture the attention of a potential mate. Sirens would often join together in harmonies for fun. Especially bonded sirens could be consistently in-sync with one another, dancing and harmonizing perfectly.

Each siren came into existence with a single gem that was designed to not only allow them to concentrate magic into their voices, much like a unicorn casting spells with their horn, but also possessed the ability to draw in and store negative energy, converting it into extra magical power for their personal usage. This ability did not often come into play for a species as self-reliant and isolated as the sirens were at the time. However, it gave the sirens a reason to enjoy toying around with their prey, consisting of various species of fish and sea mammals. They would draw out burst after burst of fear, and once bored or satisfied, would use their magical songs to make their prey willing targets before going in for the kill.

The gems of the sirens varied in color. Gems of similar color between sirens usually signified some sort of family relation.

A siren's voice was magically-laced and nothing less than powerful. Intentionally or not, their music, when gracing the ears of creatures less powerful than them, never seemed to fail in placing said creatures in a trance-like and arguably relaxing state. While these effects wore off some time after a song ended, this ability - in addition to their proficiency in charm spells - aided the sirens in their hunts and any battles against threats. But the bigger the target, and the more targets present, the more voices and power they'd need to entrance or have their charm spells take effect

Unfortunately, the voices of the sirens did not fall only on the ears of the local wildlife or their own kind. Seafaring ponies and other traveling creatures of flight would venture into proximity of the sirens' territory and unintentionally hear their captivating voices from afar. In their hypnotized states, the accidental victims would then mindlessly draw closer, only to fall to the waters and drown or cause shipwrecks by crashing into the cliffs and rocks of Anthemosa. The sirens were blamed as a result, accused of purposely luring in innocent sailors and travelers. In the aftermath of such annoying and offensive ill-rumors, the sirens stuck even closer to their isles. From then on they chose to scare off any approaching ships or travelers if it meant keeping their peace intact in the face of such egotism.

The sirens did, however, have an allyship with another tribe. They are currently remembered as the Merponies (not to be confused with the Seaponies of the Hippogriffs), created by and once under the leadership of the Ancient Alicorn of Seas, Léon (also noted in history as "King Leo"). The sirens and merponies often came together to hold peaceful and joyous feasts. It allowed the sirens to happily flourish their voices, a fun and relaxing experience the merponies greatly enjoyed. They would even exchange songs, and while the sirens held their own voices in high regard, they respected and could even appreciate the songs of their allies, even if said songs could not quite compare.

_______________________________________________

The Three Sisters

Adagio was the firstborn child of her family within the Siren tribe. Bright-eyed, strong-willed, and assertive even at her young age, the amber siren had a strong voice and an inner strength that had many fondly believing that she had a chance at becoming a future tribe leader in her own right. Such compliments did not fail to get to Adagio's head, and she took great joy in showing off her grand leadership skills every chance she was given, especially when her tribe leader or mothers were watching.

In the following years (granted, a single siren year can equate to mere months for the average pony), Adagio was given a younger sister in Aria. An outspoken and stubborn child, the violet-colored siren (not-so-secretly) envied the praise Adagio received. She aimed to receive the same respect and attention as her older sister, often following her around and even challenging her to scuffles. Unfortunately for Aria, Adagio's vocal prowess and slightly larger size would always best her. Despite how much she huffed in the aftermath, what was secret was Aria's silent and genuine admiration of her sister's abilities and persona....though she'd rather die before she ever admitted that to her. She'd never hear the end of it.

A bit more unexpectedly came their youngest sister Sonata, a cerulean siren who...while talkative and lively, proved to be tremendously inattentive and "slower" than the average fish. This lead to some teasing from other young sirens, but said teasing always ended up short-lived. Both Adagio and Aria would rush in to scare off the bullies (and almost bite off a bit of fin). Though their younger sister annoyed them more times than not, and having her around was a bit of a drag, even they could recognize Sonata's struggle to fit in. Adagio - giving a stink eye to any judging face that looked at her sister the wrong way - settled on simply having Sonata stay close and tag along with her and Aria from then on. Aria begrudgingly followed her decision, despite how much she and Sonata would squabble over the smallest of things. An irritated growl or a warning nip from Adagio would usually put them back in line.

As young adolescents with full freedom to roam around the isles, Adagio in her cockiness pondered over the idea of her and her sisters experiencing a hunting expedition all by themselves. Because surely, utilizing the bit of energy they had collected during the last hunt they shadowed, she and her sisters could test themselves and prove their capabilities to the older sirens. Yes, Aria could prove herself. Sonata could prove herself. But well, more importantly, Adagio could prove herself far more than she already had. They could even turn it into a game and see who could catch the most fish! It wasn't hard to convince her sisters and have them join her in swimming beyond the reefs, further than they were normally allowed. And Adagio never foresaw the impact that single choice would make.

Relentlessly churning waters, dark skies beyond the surface, and a quickly clouding sea caught the sisters off guard in the middle of their fruitful hunt. Losing their sense of direction and unable to swim to the seemingly storming, thunderous surface, the frightened young sirens quickly took shelter deeper within the ocean, hiding in the first underwater cave they could find. They waited out what appeared to be a catastrophic storm. Unbeknownst to them, a destructive event in pre-Equestrian history, The Cataclysm, had begun.

When nearly a full day had passed and the faintest traces of sunlight once again shone through the waves, the three sisters quickly made their way back home, the hunt forgotten. But upon their return, devastation greeted them. A half-destroyed home, with dead plant matter, collapsed cliffsides, and scorched sands that once shone like pearls in the sunlight. And no sign of any other siren, aside from the charred remains of scales. The sisters frantically searched around the isles to no avail. And with no other leads or any other place to go, they waited. And waited. For years they waited, with the tiniest sliver of hope that even one other siren had escaped the destruction of whatever had occurred. Maybe the others were afraid of returning. Or perhaps the sisters were afraid of leaving.

Prey became hard to come by. Though their meager hunting skills landed them a few small meals, the destruction had chased away or killed off most of the surrounding ecosystem. When food became far too scarce for Adagio and her sisters to thrive, the amber siren had to make a terrible decision. But a necessary decision. After their long, hopeless wait, Adagio coaxed her sisters away from their home. What was once home. With heavy hearts and survival being at the forefront of Adagio's mind, the three swam off to unchartered waters. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outcasts

Through the years, Adagio, Aria, and Sonata traversed the expansive seas. While they kept an eye out for other sirens, the merponies their tribe once called friends, as well as their own Alicorn Goddess, not a single trace could be found. It was also difficult to seek out answers when other inhabitants of the sea insistently avoided their path. Whether it was lingering fear in the aftermath of the destruction or due to the sirens' reputation of being vicious hunters, nothing brought assurance to the sisters. The seas felt unwelcoming and the tides brought more threatening predators than their level of magic had them prepared for. The young sirens found themselves constantly on the move, as any potential territory was either already inhabited or was far too dangerous for the sirens to settle down in. Besides... nothing compared to the paradise that had once been Anthemosa. Their calls and weak melodies left unanswered, the silent and empty sea was only a reminder of how truly alone they had become.

It was hardest to get Sonata to grasp the gravity of their situation. "Where did everyone go?" she'd ask over and over again. "I want to go home." While frustrated, hearing her sister's genuine confusion and fear stung Adagio deep. Aria's sporadic, angry outbursts towards Sonata - just barely masking her slowly dawning realization and grief - did nothing to ease the sickness in Adagio's stomach. Because while she fought to ignore the prodding in her mind, she knew. It was her fault they hadn't been there when the others fell. And no amount of denial after so many years erased the truth; they were really all that was left of their kind.

They were lost and without purpose. Despite her aggressive leadership and strong front, survivor's guilt consumed Adagio with each passing day. Yet she refused to let her own anguish and hopelessness take her. And as the oldest remaining siren, she wouldn't let the weight of reality take her sisters either. Resilient and determined, Adagio silently planned their next course of action. That's when it came to her: after centuries of their tribe's isolation, maybe it was finally time to leave the seas and integrate their kind with the land dwellers. Why stay put in the silent ocean, already unwanted and forgotten? They had so much culture and history and, most of all, the power and pride of their songs to share.

Adagio, ready for the next leg of their journey and with her head held high, lead her more hesitant sisters onto the shores of Equestria. The curious sights of pastures and towns and land critters overwhelmed them, but the sisters pushed on until they came face-to-face with ponykind. The ponies were a mix of awe-stricken and cautious in their presence. There before them hovered three beautiful yet intimidating creatures, easily towering them in size. With a little time, the sirens' confident demeanors (as well as their relatable sibling banter) drew out curiosity from friendlier folk.

The sisters learned much in the short period of time they spent simply testing the waters: a mysterious storm or entity or force that had been the cause of what they called "The Cataclysm"; the disappearance of the ancient Alicorns; the founding of Equestria, and the peaceful union of the three pony tribes in the past decade. While no amount of information brought the sisters closure to what had transpired, the sirens at the very least felt the promising beginnings of a newfound allyship with the ponies. The very idea of having camaraderie again brought the three a sense of relief and comfort they hadn't felt in the ten years they had wandered alone. And as it turned out, ponies enjoyed songs! Eager to extend themselves and reveal their incredible talents, the sisters offered their heartfelt melodies to their company. As was the natural effect of their voices, the ponies were placed in a relaxed, trance-like state as they blissfully gave Adagio, Sonata, and Aria their full attention. As far as the sisters understood, they were giving an unforgettable, soothing performance deserving of praise. However, those outside of earshot - spectators who recognized the familiar signs they had heard of so long ago of hypnotic voices and doe-eyed stares- went into an absolute frenzy.

The old tales of "ocean beasts with magical voices, coaxing all who listened to their doom" resurfaced at once. And after witnessing it before their very eyes, the villagers turned on the siren sisters. The three were accused of using sinister charms to trick and turn the townsfolk into their next meal. The ponies shouted that their songs were evil, and fearfully grabbed their weapons to chase off the "beasts". Negativity surrounded the sisters, and as designed, all three sirens' gems drew the townsfolk's emotions in. But the spare magical energy did not come with satisfaction or pride. In all their hopeless years, this was never the energy or the mortifying response their longing hearts had wished for. With little time to defend themselves, they were spat at and bombarded with weapons until they were driven out. Though not before being told to leave their land and never return.

Word of the sirens and their "dark magic" spread like wildfire through various towns of eastern Equestria. Rumors of their dangerous intent, rumors that they could very well be the remaining monstrosities of the defeated Father of Monsters, Grogar. No matter where they went, the moment they were recognized, ponies screamed in fear and refused to listen to their voices. Some struggled to cover their ears as they ran away. Others resorted to attacking them on sight in their terror. And some pondered the pretty coins the sirens' glimmering scales could earn them. Adagio, Sonata, and Aria were forced to go into hiding, afraid to even appear in broad daylight less they be threatened or hunted.

The sisters were left humiliated. To have their own voices slandered and rejected was a wounding insult that cut them deeper than anypony could ever understand. With their chances of escaping their isolation dashed, even Adagio was left sickened and whole-heartedly devastated. Sonata angrily questioned how anyone could hate them when all they had done was sing the best songs ponykind would ever hear. It was what they did. It was who they were....right? Aria snarled that they were the worst kind of hypocrite. Glorifying the unity of their own people, then sneering at their attempts to live amongst them? Because their gifts were different and undeserving of their respect? How was that fair? And for the first time, the three sisters were all of the same mind as resentment and animosity took over their thoughts.

Sure, they could have retreated back to the desolate seas and their ruined home. But where was the satisfaction in that? With newfound purpose, Adagio, Sonata, and Aria handled their vengeful hearts as best as three hurt, bitter children could: first, revenge was to be sought. Adagio recalled the stories of newfound peace within Equestria, as well as the negative energy still swirling within their gems. A perfect idea developed within the leader's calculating mind. It started with locating and lingering near both the dragons of the Dragon Lands and the griffons of Griffonstone. Aggressive and distrustful creatures by nature, just as she had overheard, they were a breeding ground for negative energy. Siphoning the energy unnoticed was a challenge, but a worthwhile one as they harnessed just enough for their plan. Next? Turn ponykind against one another

Knowing the strength that came from companionship, the very thing ponykind had refused them, Adagio felt it was only poetic justice to destroy the peace such arrogant creatures had so proudly bragged about. And it worked. Twisting their charm from a spell of compliance to one of bitterness and spite had been effortless when those very emotions were churning within the sisters.

Having never explored the depths of their abilities before, it was surprising, to say the least. A single charm on a town created a constant feedback of negative energy for their magic reserves. Within mere hours, the effect and range of their voices had nearly doubled what it was. Jumping from town to town, creating and absorbing disharmony where they went, the siren's voices only grew stronger. Their notes reached further. And further. And further still. To think the extent of their kind's power was far greater than anything the sisters could have ever imagined. What they were discovering was a potential never before reached by any siren before them. The surge of their growing power was so new, and the sheer child's play of it all exhilarated the three. So why stop? Just how powerful could they get with every new town they conquered?

Adagio realized at the rate they were going, all of Equestria could become their stage. It could become their farmland, with ponykind as their mindless, adoring cattle that they could siphon all the energy they needed to maintain their power and control. They honestly had it coming. If they weren't willing to bask in the magnificence of their voices, then they might as well feed their voices instead. And with their newfound resources, in time...they could attempt to restore their beloved Anthemosa. Power. Respect. Recognition. Rebuilding their beautiful home. This was fair restitution for all of the unjust pain inflicted upon them since the Cataclysm.

Adagio's goals all became short-lived when an attack on one particular village lead to their downfall. As history recalls, the young unicorn Stygian had managed to escape the sirens' control over his village. To save his fellow villagers, the colt gathered the heroes of ancient Equestria, lead by the legendary wizard Starswirl the Bearded. And ignoring Stygian's suggestion that the sirens could be reasoned with, the Pillars of Old Equestria followed Starswirl's plan and worked together to engage the sirens. Starswirl believed that using his magic to banish them to a world without magic was the only possible solution against such a treacherous threat. Little did he know that his theory would only come to endanger another universe's inhabitants. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rise and Fall of the Dazzlings

Starswirl's magic did not only transfer Adagio, Sonata, and Aria to the universe of humankind. The sisters were transported across time, nearly 900 years into the future. Finding themselves in a world without magic, a world of civilizations and advancements beyond their understanding, the sirens were dumbfounded. They were forced into forms completely unfamiliar to them, small and uncomfortable and worst of all, vulnerable. How were they supposed to protect themselves with barely visible fangs and without their powerful hooves? The only relief they had in their dismaying situation were their three gems, separate from their bodies but intact. It was uncertain just how much of their natural magic had been transferred to their jewels in order to function, but at the very least, Adagio could sense that magic still resided within.

In the following near-century of their lives, the sirens continued to draw in as much negative energy as humanly possible. To get by, their voices had to be strong enough to control others into providing what they needed, whether it be shelter, food, or other necessities and comforts. As a result, Adagio grew crueler, more hardened, and mastered the art of manipulation with her sisters closely following her lead. The sirens quietly sowed seeds of conflict where they could, but there was only so much power they could retrieve when the energy in the human world differed significantly from Equestria's. And who else to blame but the pathetic, insignificant lives of the world's magicless inhabitants.

The rate of drawing in and expending energy left the sisters with just enough magic for their charms to affect a small radius of people for a given period of time. Their magic won them enough favor to gain their basic comforts, but with frequently depleting reserves of magic, they experienced far too many close calls with having their spells break. The moment anyone seemed to catch on to their act, the three would flee town, jumping from one area to the next. Through the years they even had to keep track of the human world's development with music, altering their songs as necessary as not to arouse suspicion from potential prey. Living in the shadows day by day, unnoticed and unappreciated by those around them, there was little hope for their miserable circumstances...until one fateful day when Equestrian magic appeared in Canterlot City.

Knowing full well that targeting Equestrian magic would restore their full power, once more Adagio's mind sparked with excitement and ambition. Understanding the magic's origin or why seven teenage girls possessed its essence didn't even matter at that moment. Once they had all the magic they needed, no longer would they have to bend to the laws of the world. The world would bend to them. They'd live comfortably, freely, and no longer in hiding. Once again their music would reach far and they would be adored for the powerful beings they really were. Never ignored, nor rejected. The world would know their names again. Better yet, with no hope of returning to Equestria, they could simply shape the world itself into the home they wanted. They'd rid it of its broken, suppressive systems and live as they saw fit. Their suffering and patience would finally be rewarded.

But it was not to be. The alumni of Canterlot High remember the tale of Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, and their friends rising up to defeat "The Dazzlings", ending their plans forever with the destruction of their magical gems. As far as they understand, the sirens became "harmless teenaged girls" in the aftermath, never to be seen again. Yet no one knows of the fate of the Dazzlings, or how those great heroes had ruined them.

In their hurry to escape in their defeat, only Adagio had been able to retrieve the shattered remains of her gem. Adagio, Sonata, and Aria lost everything the moment their ability to use magic had been ripped away. Whatever sway they had that granted them temporary shelter, whatever influence that helped keep them fed each day, and the pride of their beautiful singing voices that made them who they were? All gone in but a single night. Homeless and left to fend for themselves in a world they never belonged in, the earth-shattering reality was near numbing for Adagio. For the first time, she was lost. All hope was lost. Unable to sing, they weren't even sirens anymore. She would have been willing to lose anything else. Anything but the remainder of their identities. They had been reduced to nothing, all under her watch and lead.

Aria and Sonata anxiously turned to Adagio for some hope, some sign that they would figure things out as they always did. Because even if their older sister could be harsh and bossy, Adagio always had a plan. She always kept things together and she would always make things work out one way or another. Instead, there were no confident decisions. No snarky quips or half-hearted insults. Adagio moved about aimlessly, aloof and apathetic. It was like her very will had been shattered along with the gem shards she still held close. Her sisters tried to snap her out of it; Sonata listing off her worried questions, Aria tensely yelling anything that could to get a reaction out of her. Adagio remained despondent. And for the first time, while Adagio stayed fixated on her broken gem, Sonata and Aria were forced to act on their own.

Aria hunted down abandoned areas they could use for shelter. Sonata worked on finding or winning over food, which she took far more seriously than Aria would ever expect. Watching her sisters fumble about eventually drew Adagio out of her grief-filled daze. The first time their older sister abruptly left them behind without a word, Aria and Sonata sincerely questioned if Adagio had outright abandoned them. Thankfully Adagio had simply decided to pull her own weight, adding her own provisions to their stockpile. While Adagio had returned to giving curt instructions for their survival, she began heading off alone on her own excursions, unannounced and without any explanations on her plans. Even when questioned, there was very little Adagio was willing to share when it came to what was going through her headspace. And with how little Adagio was speaking in the first place, there was no telling if she was really as 'okay' as she acted.

Due to sheer luck or mercy, and though it took time, Adagio was able to find a means of piecing her broken gem back together. While its power proved weaker than what it once was, it still possessed enough magical essence to draw in negativity and channel spells. There was an immense wave of relief in recovering her singing voice, and in the following years, Adagio swore to never take it for granted. With hard work and the help of a spell or three, Adagio swallowed her pride and was able to land a job at a company. She aggressively worked (and charmed) her way up through the ranks until she became a corporate executive. While she found her work to be exhausting and suffocating, it was the one position that provided her any kind of seat of power in her life. Not only did it pay well, but it allowed her to intimidate her underlings and collect their negativity gradually.

Adagio insisted on being the financial supporter of the family, as long as her sisters continued to provide in their own way. With the amount of free time on her hands, Aria developed an interest in books and eventually found a job at a library. While her favorite part of her work is the peace and silence away from home, she also takes pleasure in telling others to shut up whenever they get too noisy. Sonata...went from job to job without anything really sticking, to put it lightly. So Adagio tasked her with at least keeping their condominium organized and throwing together dinner as long as her recipe didn't risk setting the building on fire. Although there were a few near-incidents, Sonata (somehow) managed.

And as the years went by, that's when Adagio realized...they were aging. For decades the three sirens, with their long life spans, had not once experienced any change to their appearance. But now, the signs of growth, of age lines, were beginning to show. One way or another, their very gems had possessed the magic that had given them their expansive life spans. Perhaps that was always the case. Or perhaps it happened the moment they were physically separated from their jewels. But with their gems shattered, or cracked in Adagio's case, the sirens now faced newfound mortality, a regulated lifespan equal to that of a human's. And in this realization, more horrific thoughts followed.

Adagio, Sonata, and Aria would be forgotten with time, as three average humans who lived simple, meaningless human lives. They'd disappear with little trace of who they truly were. And the siren name would die with them. Their people never existed in this world. The sirens no longer exist in Equestria, either. Their kind's legacy would be left to collect dust, if not erased from history entirely. Adagio realized then that she hadn't just failed her sisters in leading them. She had failed every siren that had come before her, who once thought she'd lead the sirens to a greater future. And that was something her broken pride could not stand for.

In Sonata's and Aria's eyes, Adagio's spontaneous decision to have a child was abrupt and mind-boggling. Adagio - who loathed humans and being "human" more than anyone - was now prepared to have a child with one. Well, sort of. The only tidbit of information Adagio willingly gave them was her plan for artificial conception. Which okay, made far more sense. But even then, they couldn't even begin to understand what had brought on the choice. And Adagio, still intent on keeping her thoughts and weak emotions to herself, decided to keep it that way.

Thus lead to the creation of Forte Fermata, Adagio's half-human, half-siren daughter, and the first small spark of hope Adagio never knew she needed in her life. Adagio left Sonata and Aria to act as Forte's caretakers whenever she became busy with work. It took no time for Sonata to also fall in love with Forte, eager to play with what felt like a new baby sister. Meanwhile, Aria still needed time to really process the fact that Adagio wanted and had a kid, but once they were through Forte's crying-and-diaper-changing years, she decided Forte wasn't all that bad. Better than Adagio's snide attitude and Sonata's stupidity, at least. The sirens are an odd family of tired souls, and maybe not the best at being loving and kind to one another. But they are loyal to each other, and they do their best to make the most of the time they have left.

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

EXTRA

While Adagio remains reserved and strict around her sisters, unwilling to show them her weakness again, only Forte has possessed the power to pull down her mother's walls and reveal her true exhaustion and vulnerability. She is the focus of every bit of Adagio's pride and adoration, and in the older siren's eyes, she is everything Adagio is and more.

Adagio, Aria, and Sonata do deeply care about one another. It's why they've stuck together through everything and why no amount of frustration or exasperation has led them to even consider leaving the other two behind. But harsh conditions through the years, along with their pride, made it difficult for them to know just how to express that care. That especially became the case once they lost their ability to sing together and share that special connection as sirens. Secretly, Adagio has reflected on this, silently questioning why Aria and Sonata still follow her after everything she's lead them through. Multiple times she's imagined a day where they'll decide they're better off on their own and will leave. It's a day she's mentally prepared herself for through the years and has contributed to her aloofness. Aria at least manages to catch onto her older sister's thoughts and quells them in her typical indirect, stubborn way.

Aria may step out of line at times to challenge Adagio's leadership and act like she thinks her sister's ideas are dumb. But really, that jealousy she harbored for Adagio when they were kids never quite went away. In reality, if she can't be considered a leader like Adagio (not that Adagio would give her a chance to try), a part of her wants Adagio to at least respect her as a voice worth hearing. She only really makes fun of Adagio when she wants some form of acknowledgment as Adagio's right-hand-woman, consistently one step behind her sister and quick to follow her lead. But she knows Adagio is too full of herself to give her that level of recognition. It's the one thing she truly hates about the older siren.

Sonata may not the brightest, but on rare occasions, she can come up with something genuinely helpful. Such moments honestly impress Adagio and Aria, an example being the cute little crochet pouch necklace she threw together for Forte to freely carry her gem in.

Since the siren sisters were far away from Equestria during the clash of the three pony tribes, they had missed seeing the lost, restless spirits of their siren sisters, mindlessly drawn in by the negativity that once empowered them and continued to do so in death. Equestrian history remembers them as the dreaded Wendigos, now asleep during Equestria's relative era of peace.

______________________________________________________

TLDR: Local homeless and rejected teenaged orphans get their revenge and then try to take over the world twice, only to fail without a speck of closure in sight. This took me so long to write out...this was a case of knowing exactly what I wanted to write, but the words refused to come together the way I needed them to. OTL But I'm soso happy to reveal this story, as well as some pretty big puzzle pieces of Destinyverse lore!! Hope you enjoy. <3 These siren designs of the Dazzlings are based on the designs shown on the "My Little Pony: Legends of Magic" Issue 7 cover! Like dude, they're really pretty...!!

#adagio dazzle #Sonata Dusk #Aria Blaze #Equestria Girls #eqg #mlp #mirrorverse #destinyverse #story

132 notes · View notes

zorkaya-moved · 4 years

Note

💆 (from Solomon!)

@queensconquest

Solomon’s touch was magical. Even without the usage of magic, it felt calming. There were rumors that the exchange student herself was a beast in the making, but currently, she simply enjoyed her time lying down while the sorcerer ran his fingers through her hair. Untie before lying down, it looked like wavy locks of silver, contrasting with her dark t-shirt and dark shorts. With her eyes closed, the woman enjoyed the way his fingers slightly tugged her locks in a manner that almost made her purr.

Out of everyone in this bizarre demonic world, Solomon got to do this only because there was trust between them. A special bond with no real name. No one knew it and they didn’t explain it, they simply didn’t need to do so. There was fun, there were moments of quietness, and then there were moments like this which raised even more questions in RAD.

Sokolova had her eyes closed despite her face turned towards the man whose existence was a mystery to everyone. She saw how demons acted around him. He was a human and they saw him as an equal. Perhaps, there was something good about being a human in the world of the supernatural. Not that her trust in humanity ever grew; she knew good and strong people existed, but her life was not going to be filled with too many of them. Some might be killed by her hand the older she’ll get. Mayhaps, that understanding alone made her relish in the gentle caress and play with her locks, it felt nice.

“You don’t have to stop,” the woman didn’t open her eyes as she uttered those words. There’s no distrust in her actions, she continued to lie down and not move as her hair lost all its straightness, returning to its natural wavy form. So many times she was called a sheep by her family because of how long and wavy her hair was. Solomon’s fingers running through them only brought her a sense of peace and relaxation. She wanted him to do so for a longer time, pampering her like she was the only one who was allowed to have this privilege. Selfish in her own way, Zarina continued to steal his moments without giving it a rest. “It feels nice, Solomon. Your touch feels good.” It didn’t feel opressive at all.

He was allowed to touch her hair. Zarina felt all too tired to refuse his touch, lavishing in the sense of content quietness that ended up her almost falling asleep. Not exactly, but her voice was showing that she was in a semi-dreaming state, listening to the sounds around them and expecting Solomon to return to his book once he’s done playing with her hair. Soft to the touch, silky and well-looked after - Sokolova wondered how much he liked to play with her hair now that he hadn’t stopped for a while.

“If you’ll stop before five minutes will run out, I’ll use you as a pillow,” a chuckle followed while her eyes were still closed. It was a playful threat, she wouldn’t actually do it.

#queensconquest #MHMMMMM AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #zarina letting solomon play with her hair? hell yeah #probably the first time she let him do that when she's just lying next to him #❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.#✦ obey me: friend’s last words spoke gentle promises of long lost protection. ❞#☼ SOLOMON. ―▐ in the everlasting garden of wisdom and tragedy，i’ll have your name on my lips like a song.

2 notes · View notes

artemis-entreri · 5 years

Photo

[[ This post contains Part 4 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

Introduction

I. Positives I.1 Pure Positives I.2 Muddled Positives

II. Mediocre Writing Style II.1 Bad Descriptions II.2 Salvatorisms II.3 Laborious “Action”

III. Poor Characterization III.1 “Maestro” III.2 Lieutenant III.3 Barbarian III.4 “Hero” III.5 Mother

IV. World Breaks (you are here) IV.1 Blinders Against the Greater World IV.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril IV.3 Self-Inconsistency IV.4 Dungeon Amateur IV.5 Utter Nonsense

V. Ego Stroking V.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall V.2 Me, Myself, and I

VI. Problematic Themes VI.1 No Homo VI.2 Disrespect of Women VI.3 Social-normalization VI.4 Eugenics

VII. What’s Next VII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood VII.2 Profane Redemption VII.3 Passing the Torch VII.4 Don’t Notice Me Senpai

World Breaks

There's a reason that Salvatore's dark elf books are more popular than his works in his own settings, and that reason is only partly due to the Drizzt books being around longer. A fair number of people who actively like the Drizzt books don't much care for Salvatore's Demonwars books, and I suspect the reason is that the Drizzt books piggyback off of a greater world built by better creatives. One would think, then, that Salvatore would respect the foundation that has helped lift him to his height, but sadly, the opposite is true. Instead, Salvatore seems chagrined by, even resentful of, the fact that what makes his work in the shared world as popular as it is is the fact that the world is a sum of the efforts of many. Salvatore's earlier books were much better, in part due to his significantly more humble attitude, but also due to a greater care in respecting what others have woven around him. With each new Drizzt book however, it seems Salvatore is puffing out his chest more, intent on writing his name in a giant sharpie over the tapestry that many hands painstakingly wove together before. The Forgotten Realms may not have some facets as developed as other fantasy worlds like Middle-Earth, but nonetheless, even while missing complete languages, FR has enough self-consistency to at least maintain the feel of the whole. With each new book however, Salvatore turns his nose up at the Realms a new degree. Even if a reader doesn't care about the world outside of Salvatore's take on it, I would hope that they're reasonable enough to see how disrespectful and petty it is to disregard and, at times, erase the work done by others in that same setting, especially when even the creator of the world himself is not exempt from this treatment.

Blinders Against the Greater World

Salvatore's corner of the Realms has always been very insular, but Boundless takes ignoring of the wider world to a whole new level. To Salvatore, it is as though all there is to the Realms is Faerûn. The planet that is Toril has been reduced to a single continent. Even the great Gromph Baenre, whom Salvatore has fought to elevate to the levels of Blackstaff if not Elminster, doesn't seem aware that the planet is round. When Gromph tells Penelope Harpell to take Catti-brie far away from danger, he states, "send her away, far away, to the ends of Faerun, to another plane, even." This presentation is as silly as the flat earth theory of our world, perhaps more so, because to put it in perspective, if this happened in our world, Gromph basically said something alone the lines of, "take her to the ends of North America, to another dimension, even," when he meant, "take her to the ends of the earth". So, again, there are two possibilities here: one, that Gromph isn't as great as he's made out to seem and actually believes that all of his world is the continent of Faerûn, or two, Salvatore is working very hard to erase the rest of a world that he has no use for. Both possibilities are equally bad.

I think that Salvatore's hubris prevents him from fact-checking, even when it is exceedingly easy for him to do so. Ed Greenwood routinely answers questions from fans about the Realms, only holding back when something is blocked by non-disclosure agreements. Salvatore would be spared that block, and it would be a simple matter for him to just ask Greenwood through the myriad of available instant messaging methods and ask for a quick fact check. It's very evident that he doesn't, however, nor even so much as bother Googling something like "map of Waterdeep", as is evidenced by his incorrect nomenclature of one of the city's wards. Entreri and Dahlia have made their home in the Southern Ward of the city, but Salvatore calls it the "South Ward", despite every map of Waterdeep throughout the editions specifically labeling it as "Southern Ward". Even in the recent D&D module, Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, Volo's Enchiridion notes that, "It is called the Southern Ward, not the South Ward. Waterdhavians are peculiar about this, and if you insist on referring to it as the South Ward, expect to be corrected or thought a fool." I suppose that Salvatore is a fool then, for Dahlia, and most certainly Entreri, wouldn't be foolish enough to erroneously call the area they live in the South Ward, especially since they're performing undercover reconnaissance, which would entail not standing out like a sore thumb as foreigners.

Befuddlement of Earth and Toril

One thing that Salvatore did manage to do better than some Realms authors is that, at least in the past, his dialogue read like speakers in the fantasy world rather than in our world. He's been slipping more and more in the recent books, with Boundless hitting a new low. For instance, Salvatore uses the word "okay", despite it being specifically stated by Ed Greenwood as not existing in Common. The etymology of "okay" is very specific to our world and, just as it's unlikely for Common to have come from Latin, "okay" wouldn't have independently evolved into existence in the Realms. Furthermore, while in Forgotten Realms canon there exist portals connecting different realms in the multiverse, including Earth to Toril, which has allowed for the interchange of language and ideas across worlds, such transmission is rare. Even more unlikely is for an already low probability word making its way into the depths of the Underdark, into a very xenophobic Menzoberranzan, meaning that Jarlaxle actually knowing the word "okay" in past Menzoberranzan is next to impossible. It's lazy writing, Salvatore isn't even trying anymore. The same is true for "salty", which, although is less specific to our world, did come into prominent use in recent times, a fact aligning with Salvatore's usage of it to beg the question of if he's actively trying to dumb down his writing to appeal to a wider audience.

Unfortunately, Salvatore's regression in staying true to Common isn't limited to individual words. In Boundless, there's a glaring instance of the usage of a phrase that is specific to Earth. Specifically, during one of Entreri's melodramatic monologues, while he ponders all the analogies of death, one of the things he specifically thinks is, "the ring around the rosy". While this isn't an exact replica of a line from a well-known nursery rhyme, knowing Salvatore it was most likely a typo of "rosie" to "rosy". There are several issues with the reference. First, it's evident that Salvatore was referencing the hypothesized morbid nature of the rhyme, when it was believed that it was about the Black Death, with the "ring around the rosie" specifically referring to the swollen red rings around the plague victims' eyes and/or the the black circles that would appear on their bodies. The Black Death is specific to our world, with no indication of anything similar having happened in the Realms. Even if there was a plague similar to the Great Plague, it would be curbed way before it developed into a pandemic in a world with as much magic as exists in the Realms. Thus, it's unlikely that a nursery rhyme would develop, especially as plagues are nasty business, bards and the like would much rather extol heroes and heroic deeds. Second, it'd always been weird that a children's song would be so dark, but it was recently disproven that the rhyme is about the Black Death at all. The plague explanation was one concocted a long time after the appearance of a rhyme with no definite origin, and while a number of different theories exist for the meaning of "ring around the rosie", folklorists pointed out evidence such as the plague explanation not appearing until the mid-twentieth century and the symptoms supposedly described by the rhyme not fitting with those of the Black Death. Perhaps most tellingly, the Black Death interpretation is based on the modern (and usually American English) form of the rhyme, which is not the rhyme's original form. This particular phrase that Salvatore uses demonstrates both a world break and a failure in research.

Another world break also happens in that same monologue, specifically, when Entreri thinks, "No existence... no existence... that, so I learn too late, my only heaven." Salvatore could've easily avoided this instance by using the word "salvation" or "peace" instead of "heaven". As it is, the concept of heaven is unique to the religions of our world. In the Realms, there is no "heaven", unless one is referring to Mount Celestia. After death, souls go to the realm of the deity they worshiped in life, and if an individual didn't worship a deity, their soul would go to the deity whose portfolio most closely aligns with how they lived their life. Those like Entreri who reject the worship of any deity would've ended up in the Wall of the Faithless, but even that eternity would've been better than that of the cocoon. Since Entreri is defining his eternal peace as nonexistence now that the cocoon has shown him the potential horrors that await him, the Wall of the Faithless should feel pretty welcoming to him. The Wall is by no means a pleasant fate, for one's soul is eternally mortared into it, but neither is it eternal suffering either. However, there's another world break here in that Salvatore doesn't seem to want to acknowledge the Wall of the Faithless' existence. He'd go so far as to create a nonexistent "demon" that will torment those that it deems evil for eternity. The "demon" could actually not be a demon at all, but its human-faced wasp minions certainly don't seem like the kind of critter that would belong to a goodly creature.

Self-Inconsistency

A consistent problem that occurs in the Drizzt books is the lack of self-consistency. Salvatore often seems to forget and/or mix up which of his characters have done what. This was better in Timeless, but worsened in Boundless again. One example of this that is also a disregard for the shared world as a whole is, "Dab'nay stirred from her deep slumber". Such a simple statement, yet one forgetting something as fundamental as drow having ebony skin. Elves of the Forgotten Realms, which includes drow, don't typically sleep, unless they are extremely injured. Their equivalent of rest is reverie, which they only need half as much of as creatures needing sleep, and it's a state in which they are perfectly lucid. I suppose elves can choose to sleep, but it's illogical that Dab'nay would do so even as comfortable as she feels in that moment. Dab'nay is relatively safe in her hideout, but fundamentally, she is in Menzoberranzan, in the Underdark after all, and there, no place is truly safe. Unless a drow has a death wish, they wouldn't relinquish the advantage afforded them by reverie unless they had no choice, i.e. when they're seriously wounded, which leads me to conclude that Salvatore simply forgot, yet again, that drow don't sleep. It's really a shame, and also somewhat embarrassing, given that one of his more memorable and evocative lines is, "They sat there under the stars and let the Reverie calm them" (The Two Swords). And that's not taking into account the War of the Spider Queen series that he supposedly oversaw, in which reverie is referenced in a non-insignificant way.

Another example of self-inconsistency in Boundless is:

This is deserving of a John Stewart baffled look. Drizzt, Jarlaxle and Entreri were allowed to walk free from Quenthel's dungeons, but Zaknafein was never there, not during Quenthel's rule anyway. I suppose we don't actually know where Yvonnel the Second brought Zaknafein back from, it is conceivable that she resurrected him in Quenthel's dungeons. However, this is super unlikely, because Yvonnel had already left Menzoberranzan behind by that point with no intention of looking back.

Yet another inconsistency in Boundless is Guenhwyvar apparently losing one of her oldest abilities, specifically, her capacity to carry others with her to and from the Astral Plane. This ability initially appeared in the first Drizzt book Salvatore wrote, The Crystal Shard, in which Guenhwyvar whisks Regis away to the safety of her home while the final Cryshal-Tirith crumbles about them. She does this again in The Halfling's Gem, stealing Regis away again right as things were getting hot for him in Pasha Pook's guild. In that same book, she later returns to the Prime Material Plane with other astral panthers to obliterate the wererats in the Thieves' Guild. Just the circumstance of Regis going on a joyride through the Astral Plane not once but twice should've led to Drizzt learning about this particular special and powerful ability of his wondrous companion. However, if for some strange reason Regis was tight-lipped about both of his extraordinary experiences with the panther, the spectacle of a pack of panthers materializing to help the Companions rout their enemies should've definitely drawn enough notice to inspire some question and investigation. It's simply inconceivable that Drizzt wouldn't be aware of Guenhwyvar's ability to transport passengers to the Astral Plane, unless he were so dense as to not notice, or so oblivious as to not wonder. In Boundless, Drizzt demonstrates himself to be either exceedingly forgetful or exceedingly stupid to not think of this most convenient ability of Guenhwyvar's that may have solved the Retriever issue right away. Of course, since what Salvatore "created" isn't a standard Retriever, it’s possible it gained immunity to most everything and incomprehensible cosmic power, but lost its ability to track and travel to other planes? Perhaps that’s its form of an "itty bitty living space"? Yet, in increasing Salvatore fashion, this inconvenient fact is conveniently forgotten, as even Drizzt's most trusted companion Guenhwyvar isn't immune to being nerfed so that the golden boy is elevated to new levels. After all, if Guenhwyvar simply took Drizzt to the Astral Plane and lost the Retriever that way, how could Salvatore make Drizzt do that awesome discorporating thing at the end of the novel?

Perhaps the biggest recurring issue in the Drizzt books is the arbitrary impermanence of death. Even putting aside the fact that the Companions of the Hall are immune to permanent death, always finding some way to come back even if it entails a hundred-year time jump imposed by D&D's edition change, Salvatore seems to blatantly ignore that the resurrection mechanic exists in the world. Resurrection magic might be difficult to access in remote villages as well as being prohibitively expensive for the common folk, but Drizzt and the companions are far from common folk. Bruenor is one of the wealthiest people on the continent, and the companions have allies in advanced, magic-rich cities such as Silverymoon. This isn't accounting for the fact that even in their midst, Catti-brie should be more than powerful enough to perform one resurrection a day. Pikel, too, is represented to be very powerful, and while he might not be able to resurrect, reincarnating a lost friend in a different form should certainly be within his magic arsenal. Why is none of that being employed to bring back Ambergris when she was slain in Timeless? Why was it not used when Pwent was killed, which would've had the bonus effect of also curing his vampirism? The fact that even the endlessly resourceful Jarlaxle doesn't have some sort of death-defeating spell on hand, even during the Spellplague era, is a gaping hole of an incongruity that'll never be rectified. Putting that aside, Salvatore treats death even more whimsically than Realms authors who do acknowledge resurrection magic in their books. It really feels like Pwent is revealed as not dead due to popular request, whereas Ambergris is killed off to build drama. Similarly, I question if anyone still draws any tension from any members of the Companions being in "mortal danger". It doesn't matter that Drizzt can't escape the relentless Retriever pursuing him, because we know that he's not going to die in any permanent sense, and that everything will work out all right for him. This is perhaps not something that can be laid at Salatore's feet though, as it is intrinsic to most novel series (at least those not written be George R.R. Martin).

Dungeon Amateur

Another thing that's evident from the Drizzt books is that, despite Salvatore styling himself as a D&D expert, his actual understanding of D&D mechanics is very poor. His stats for Drizzt are so laughably optimized that a properly min-maxed character could easily defeat him in one-on-one combat while being as much as ten levels lower than him. However, Drizzt has the thickest plot armor of possibly any fantasy character, so there's no need for Salvatore to understand the game system that his books borrow from and are based in. Still, it's very cringe-worthy to see, especially as with each new book, Salvatore is flagrantly disregarding D&D even more. For instance, in Boundless, Jarlaxle's bag of holding is described as being able to “hold a roomful of goods”. I suppose this is true if it was a pretty small room or if it's a room full of not very heavy goods, because bags of holding can't exceed a capacity of five hundred pounds, and if we're speaking in terms of pure volume, sixty-four cubic feet is the limit. Based on the way that Jarlaxle is pulling forth pouch after pouch full of gold from that bag of holding though, Salvatore makes it sound like he's got a dragon's hoard stored in that magical container. Gold and treasure is heavy, so if Jarlaxle indeed wanted to fit a roomful of goods in his bag of holding, he surely must stock some lightweight junk amidst all of those coins.

The above example admittedly isn't all that bad, especially when considering that since multi-classing into monk, Drizzt's plot armor thickened exponentially, giving him a bevy of awesome new abilities even though his previous awesomeness meant that he's high enough level such that he should only have one level to spend into monk. In Boundless, it seems as though Salvatore is reassigning Drizzt's levels, perhaps taking out those levels in those ranger abilities he never uses and putting them into monk, or perhaps simply by removing the level cap for him. With his sole level in monk, Drizzt kicks a balor in the head for massive damage, even though that one level would've only granted him proficiency in unarmed strikes, an alternate low amount of damage (d4), or the possibility for an extra attack. Yet Drizzt is kicking that balor for the damage of all of his fighter levels, as well as being able to remove poison from himself, an ability that monks don't even have anything similar to until level ten in the form of poison immunity.

At times, Salvatore seems self-conscious about the world and mechanic breaks he performs, and appears to try to make up for them. However, the way that he does so is clumsy and inspires one to facepalm. For instance, a guard "crumples to the floor as if she had been stomped by a tarrasque" after receiving a strike from Dahlia's nunchaku. The tarrasque is a creature that is unique to the Forgotten Realms, however it is also fifty feet long and seventy feet wide, weighing a whopping value of one hundred and thirty tons. Any medium-sized humanoid, which the guard that Dahlia strikes is, would be little more than a bloody smear even if the tarrasque gently put its foot on them. Yet, the guard didn't die immediately from such a strike, was even groaning afterwards. The vast ridiculousness of the analogy aside, it's very unlikely that the guard would be alive at all, for Dahlia's un-tarrasque-like strike nonetheless was enough to splatter the nearby Regis with "blood, bone, and brain".

In the same vein as not making sense is:

Since when is "what in the Nine Hells" an old dwarven cliché? As far as I can remember, this is the first time it's mentioned in a Drizzt book, and I don't recall seeing that phrase categorized as such in any other Forgotten Realms novels or sourcebooks. It hardly makes sense to and reeks of poor and lazy worldbuilding, While all "facts" in a fantasy setting are made up, this detail is just so random and doesn't fit with dwarf lore. Dwarven souls can end up in the abyss and Baator (the Nine Hells) as readily as any mortal soul, but dwarves as a race don't mingle with devils as much as, for instance, humans or even elves do. As such, it's unlikely that fear of the hells would come from the dwarves. Besides, Bruenor would certainly know the difference between demons and devils, and would thus know that the lawful evil devils would not be marching aside their hated enemies, the chaotic evil demons besieging Gauntylgrm.

One final piece that makes little sense, a tidbit that breaks both D&D rules and Salvatore's own consistency, is Regis lifting Entreri's cocoon. Regis doesn't drag the cocoon, but actually lifts it, gets it on his shoulders, and carries it across a room. Sure, his legs were shaking, but the feat shouldn't have been possible for him at all. We know from Salvatore's own text via The Sellswords trilogy that Entreri weighs one hundred and fifty pounds. Assuming that's with armor included, although it's unlikely since a man that is five foot five inches tall and as muscular as Entreri is would weigh that fully nude, the cocoon itself should add at least fifty pounds, although more likely much more as it's described as being thick and made of sludge-like material. As a halfling, Regis would weigh around thirty pounds, and from what we've seen, he's more of a dexterity-based character than strength-based. He shouldn't have been able to lift the cocoon at all.

Utter Nonsense

There are a number of things that aren't just inconsistent with the rest of the shared world, they're not even consistent with our world. A carry-over from Timeless is what was supposed to have been a nightmarish fate left to the priestess who failed, Ash'ala Melarn. The climax of the awful punishment was supposedly "when the maggots hatch in the filthy tub all about [her], that [she] can feel every bite and every squirm over the days as they devoured [her]." As I pointed out in my analysis of Timeless, maggots only eat dead flesh. They don't eat live flesh, which is why they can be employed in medical treatments as a form of biotherapy. Because they specifically target dead tissue, maggots are effective in preventing infection that is promoted by the presence of dead tissue. Thus, unless drow possess the capacity to maintain sensation in dead tissue, Ash'ala wouldn't feel the maggots' bites. It seems that Salvatore just kept compounding his mistake, for in Boundless, we're reminded of how Ash'ala is "being slowly eaten by maggots". I suppose that can be true enough if more and more of her tissue is dying and the maggots move on to consume the newly dead tissue, but it's not really a horrific image because, fundamentally, all dead things are going to be eaten by maggots. I get what Salvatore is trying to go for but if the maggots in their world is the same as ours, it wouldn't work the way that he's describing.

Another example of something that just doesn't fit in either world appears during one of Entreri's monologues:

I can't find anything for what "piffy" might mean here. There's an entry in the Urban Dictionary that states that it means "sexy", but that definition hardly fits in this context. There's also an explanation that it's a British saying that means to be conspicuous but left out of an activity, but that hardly fits either. Is this Salvatore's version of Trump's covfefe, or a truly epicly bad spelling of pithy that doesn't really fit either? Perhaps its an attempt to show us that language is "Boundless".

7 notes · View notes

radiantepoch · 3 years

Text

Radiant Epoch: Chapter 26 - Lyra

Temptation.

An irresistible urge to succumb. The overwhelming desire to engage in compulsive behavior, sometimes full of risk and danger, in spite of one's better senses, is a powerful and mysterious force. Even those with the strongest of wills and highest moral character can be presented with a totem of temptation and fall pray to the whispering vice hidden in the dark chambers of the heart. The totem can be unknown to the tempted until it presents itself and sings a sinister siren song, luring their hypnotized prey into an inescapable trance. Temptation warps the mind and makes an honest actor lie, cheat, and steal, all to appease their darkened god. There are few, if any, forces in this world that have as much power as the dark seduction of that mysterious force. To resist such desires is one of the greatest challenges in existence.

Lyra stared longingly at her new prize as she caressed the outer egg of the Palace Relic. As much as she may have desired to play with her new treasure, fear of her parents, or worse, a customer, discovering the power of the talis inadvertently was a strong enough motivator to allow her to resist the lure of Zareck's gift, at least for the time being. That isn't to say that the talis didn't offer an incredibly seductive allure. On the contrary, Lyra had to fight incredibly hard to resist the strong impulse of experimenting with the talis and reliving her favorite moments of the past. It was a constant battle inside of Lyra's mind to combat and quell thoughts of “just for a few seconds” and “maybe for a minute or two”. The urge to fall into the power of the talis was dangerously tantalizing, and had her parents not returned to the shop when they did, Lyra might just have succumbed to the magical artifact's siren song and accidentally revealed its secrets to them as they walked into the field of whatever vision she decided to be entranced by. Luckily, she had held out long enough.

“Lyra! We're back, sweetie!” declared her father as he opened the door to the shop.

Instinctively, Lyra grabbed the Palace Relic and quickly hid it inside of her satchel. All at once feelings of guilt and paranoia began to overwhelm her. If Lyra's parents caught sight of the talis they were going to immediately question its usage. Lyra realized that she had spent so much time gazing longingly at her new toy that she had forgotten to come up with answers for the obvious questions that her parents would ask should the occasion arise unexpectedly. Despite her intention to avoid showing them the talis altogether and stating that she had turned Zareck down, Lyra knew that there should be a contingency plan if they do in fact discover the artifact. Beyond that, she didn't like the idea of hiding the Palace Relic from her parents. Doing such felt far more deceitful than excluding stories of visiting the cordillan district from dinner table discussions. Something about hiding her new talis felt a bit more dirty and dishonest, but there was little time to dwell on the guilt of the decision. Lyra's actions were ultimately quicker than her thoughts, and thus by the time her parents had her in their line of the sight, the talis had been safely tucked away.

“Welcome back, father. Mother,” chirped Lyra in the most inviting tone she could muster.

The paranoia inside of Lyra instantly grew exponentially. Was she too warm in her greeting? Would her overly cheerful tone make her parents assume she had accepted the talis from Zareck and lead to them questioning her? What would she say to them if they wanted to see the talis in action? If she lied and stated that the talis had a more benign power and did something it did not, how would she talk her way out of it when they asked for an example? Fears of different scenarios leading to the discovery of the talis, and its true power, instantly played in Lyra's mind. Though she tried to quell her nervous thoughts and told herself she was being overly paranoid for no reason, the attempts to calm herself were futile. She had an incredibly rare and fascinating talis that seemed to defy the known laws of magic, and it was indeed something worth hiding. In the end, she ultimately hoped that her parents had simply forgotten about the talis altogether and wouldn't have any questions in regards to it, lest she crack under pressure and reveal the truth about her encounter with Zareck.

“Did you have any trouble while we were gone?” her father inquired.

“No. None at all,” replied Lyra in a more measured manner. “I'm sure you encountered far more excitement while you were out.”

“Was it that dull?” laughed Clive. “Surely Zareck at least regaled you with some interesting tales from his travels!”

“We had a pleasant conversation,” said Lyra with a soft smile, praying her parents wouldn't ask for any additional details.

“Well, I'm terribly sorry we kept you waiting so long, dear,” apologized Lyra's mother. “It looks like those Troupe Astral people are more popular than your father or I realized. There was apparently quite a crowd gathered around one of them in Market Street while we were out and we simply couldn't get through the sea of people! I've never seen anything like it in all my days in Paach!”

“Yes, indeed. It looks like you have your finger on the pulse of the current culture and the hottest trends in ways us old folks simply do not,” boasted her father. He seemed overly pleased with how cosmopolitan his daughter had become. “I've now become a bit jealous your mother and I aren't able to attend! Do you have any interest in trading your tickets to us?”

“Not a chance,” replied Lyra with a laugh. A real, sincere, tension-free laugh. She desperately needed that. Her nervousness had begun to vanish as she eased back into a comfortable state of normalcy with her parents.

“Clive!” gasped Lyra's mother as she smacked her husband's arm.

“Oh come now, Tara. I'm only joking! Well...a little bit.”

The three of them shared a hearty laugh. More and more the tension seemed to vanish from Lyra's mind until she felt free to fully focus on the present.

“Well, I know we've kept you a bit later than you probably wanted and now you'll be in rush to meet with Tyce. I'm very sorry for that dear. We'll let you run along and won't keep you a second longer,” declared Clive. “Have fun at the show, sweetie.”

“Thank you, Father,” said Lyra as she made her way around the counter towards the freedom of the front door, but not before a quick hug and a quick kiss on the cheek for each parent. After bidding them farewell, Lyra graciously made her exit.

Before leaving the shop Lyra had glanced at the wallclock and observed that it was thirty minutes to noon. Given that her parents were often exceptionally late when it came to matters of her personal life, this was a generally impressive window of opportunity she had been given to find Geneon compared to what she had been expecting. It was time to find him and finally make her amends. The totality of the affair was not lost on her. The same sinking feeling she had in her stomach earlier in the morning had returned when she thought about the prospect of reaching out to her estranged friend. Lyra's shameful guilt over hiding the memory talis had temporarily dissipated, but the compunction had been swiftly replaced by another equally potent anxiety. Despite her nerves, Lyra pressed onward and made her way to find Geneon.

At that point in her life the cordillan district had become wholly familiar to Lyra, and likewise, the residents of the district had become familiar with her. Lyra had visited the area enough times where she had become as well known to the local cordillans as Geneon himself. At first, there was a level of shock to see a human girl casually walking their streets, but over time both eventually became comfortable with the other party. In her earliest ventures into Genenon's neighborhood, Lyra had felt the expected intimidation and nervousness of a small human girl visiting the “dangerous part of town”, but as her visits had become more and more frequent over the years, it had become as normal to her as visiting Market Street, much to the chagrin of her parents. The “reputation” associated with such behavior was something they adamantly disapproved of, but ultimately did little to stop other than occasionally spouting some passive-aggressive commentary. Beyond that, the gossip topic of Lyra visiting the poorest part of town usually faded into the background whenever a more juicy story rose in the ranks of the Paach populace, and thus Clive and Tara felt little damage to their own reputations. Lyra's escapades into the cordillan part of town had become so common that few in the village now gave them a second thought.

“Hey girl!” shouted a stout cordillan. “Ain't seen you in a minute! How you been?”

“I've been fine, thank you,” replied Lyra politely. “Have you seen Geneon around today?”

“Geneon. Nah, I ain't seen him all day. Yo Pih! You seen Geneon today?”

“Nah, haven't seen him,” replied his lanky friend. “That boy gets up way earlier than I do, though. Gyaha! You know how he is, always hustling for that coin. Gyaha!”

Their answers were disappointing, but not unexpected. Lyra knew that Geneon was always struggling to find odd jobs and that, more than likely, he wasn't going to be found anywhere in the cordillan district at this time of day. However, she hoped that if she asked around she'd eventually encounter someone who had seen which way he had went and that her search could be narrowed down. There was no way she'd be able to comb the entirety of Paach in a single day to find where he was lending his labor, so Lyra felt her best bet was to ask around to see if anyone knew where in particular he'd gone. If she were lucky, Geneon would have finished his day's work and would be resting at his house, but Lyra knew that was an incredibly unlikely prospect given how early it was in the day. However, even if he wasn't home, one of his neighbors might have seen where he went or talked with him about his plans for the day. With no better leads, and Geneon's house became her next destination.

“It looks like he's not home,” Lyra said to herself aloud. Again, this was what she expected, but she had been hoping that luck would be in her favor. After peeking her head inside of Geneon's abode, Lyra began asking the nearby neighbors if they had happened to see where he had ventured. Nobody seemed to recall where Geneon had went or when he had left. That is, until, Lyra spoke to a young cordillan boy named Argus.

Argus was around the age of five and in many ways looked like a younger Geneon, except that his hair was orange, his skin was blue, and his splotches were red. Though his hair was far curlier than Geneon's, their faces were strikingly similar. Generally friendly and talkative, young Argus was always pleased when Lyra came to the cordillan district and was more than happy to talk with her, especially given his excitement in being able to assist the human teenager. Argus loved tales of heroic knights and fancied himself a hero himself whenever given the chance to assist others.

“Yes, I saw Geneon earlier. Yes I did!” he exclaimed.

“Did you happen to see where he went, Argus?” inquired Lyra.

“He went that way!”

Argus pointed his finger proudly, as if his declaration of “that way” was the ultimate clue that Lyra needed. Lyra couldn't help but smile at the young cordillan who thought himself so helpful. While it wasn't much to go on, at that point it was the best lead she had yet to come across, and it prompted her to inquire further.

“That way, huh? Did you happen to see if he was with anybody?” she asked. Geneon usually left on his own in his search for odd jobs, but on occasion he would team up with another local to try to barter their labor as a package deal. Lyra was hoping for another clue.

“Yeah huh! He was with a lollipop man!”

“A lollipop man?”

“Yep! A lollipop man and a stick man!”

“A lollipop man and a stick man, huh?”

Kids certainly have creative minds, Lyra thought to herself. Perhaps Argus hadn't seen Geneon at all and his imagination had simply taken the better of him. Though she would have wanted to stay and chat with the enthusiastic tyke a bit longer on an ordinary day, Lyra reminded herself that she needed to keep moving to find Geneon in time and not miss the show. After thanking the little lad for his help, Lyra continued venturing her way through the cordillan district.

The continued searching yielded few positive results. The vast majority of people Lyra encountered had told her they didn't recall seeing Geneon in the morning. Lyra did encounter one cordillan, Roas, who did say that she saw Geneon early in the day when he was still looking for work, but alas was unaware of where he ended up for the day. Roas said that she had heard that there were Hafen soldiers harassing any cordillans who attempted to make their way to the merchant caravans, and thus didn't think that Geneon would be able to find work with the traders. Beyond that nugget, Roas didn't have any information that Lyra considered particularly useful in her search, and neither did anyone else. It felt like every corner Lyra turned in her search for Geneon were nothing but dead ends.

After spending a bit more time searching, Lyra dug into her satchel and pulled out a small golden pocketwatch. Instantly upon viewing the time she cringed. It was already one thirty. She only had an hour and a half until she was to meet with Tyce for the show. With a hastened pace, Lyra moved through as much as the cordilan district as she could. After thoroughly exploring the area, she decided to once again make her way back to Geneon's house in hopes that he might have possibly returned home after his workday, but his domicile remained vacant. It looked like Lyra's mission to save their friendship was to end in failure, at least for the day.

With a heavy heart and a heavy sigh, Lyra sat down in front of Geneon's hole. Immediately she began making plans to return to the spot bright and early in the morning so that she could ensure that she wouldn't miss Geneon before he began his day. That was her only chance. As far as the present day was concerned, though, Lyra decided that it was time to admit defeat. The only solace Lyra felt in that acceptance was the chance of success for her next attempt, but she also realized there was no guarantee that Geneon would have returned by then either.

Lyra closed her eyes. Though she wanted to remain optimistic, her inability to even find Geneon, let alone speak with him, had lowered her spirits significantly. Her confidence had waned the longer the search went on. She considered that perhaps it was a futile errand attempting to reconcile that which cannot be reconciled. Lyra wondered if her hubris was too great, thinking that she could single-handedly save their friendship, whether or not Geneon wanted it to be saved. She thought of how egotistical it was to assume that Geneon would even be willing to talk to her, let alone resume their companionship as if nothing negative had occurred between the two of them. Or rather, the three of them. Would she truly have been able to mend their wounded friendship and reunite the trio? As she ruminated over her ego, a great sadness began to engulf Lyra. Depression sank in as Lyra's head sunk into her chest.

“Lyra?”

Suddenly, Lyra's eyes burst open and her head jolted upwards. There he was. Standing in front of Lyra was none other than Geneon himself.

0 notes

impossible-rat-babies · 7 years

Text

Clan Enallasani: A Guide

Physiology!

This installment is quiet late compared to the last one, but i’m still working on fleshing out Dimitri’s clan!

Note: I will use Dimitri as both a comparison and contrast since he is the last known member of the Enallasani elves.

Under read-more for ease of access:

Physical characteristics:

Due to centuries of separation from their southern brethren, the Enallsani elves are vastly different from their kin.

The Enallasani elves stand taller and wider than southern elves; They typically stand between 5’5” and 6’2” (167cm-188cm) tall and weigh at least 160 lbs on average. They build muscle easily from a combination of their environment, diet and natural tendencies. Dimitri stands at an average heigh of 5 foot 7 inches (173cm), but he is underweight at only about 140lbs. This is due to his changed environment, diet, and the strain on his body from stress and magic usage.

The harsh temperature extremes of the Anderfels lead to them building practical muscle as well as fat. Some would classify the clan as overweight, but the extremes of the climate dictate that muscle as well as fat are needed. Dark skin is a common amongst them due to the heavy sun exposure of their homeland.

Their hair comes in a variety of colors, with browns and blondes being most common. Dimitri was an exception to this rule--his hair color was believed to be influenced by his magic. Their eyes come in a variety of colors as well, with reds and purples being far less common except in mages who are known to have bright/unnatural eye colors. The most common colors are shades of browns with golden flecks.

Like their southern brethren, they have a reflective layer within their eyes that allow for better night vision and seeing in low light. They can see exceptionally well in the light of dusk and dawn. Enallasani elves also have excellent near sight, but are frequently far sighted. Their eyes are quite large for their faces like most elves to allow for their strong near sightedness and strong vision in low light. The most striking feature about their eyes is their dark grey sclera. It is unknown as to why they possess such a feature. Dimitri possessed blue/grey eyes--a trait from his mother’s side of the family--before his usage of blood magic turned his eyes a deep orange and later a deep red.

They also possess a high and flat nose bridge. They possess much more pointed canines for ripping and tearing at meat. They’re ears vary in shape, but they are quite large to allow for excessive heat to escape their bodies. They do flicker and move to express emotions as well and hear better.

Besides breasts and wider hips to allow for carrying children, there is little sexual dimorphism in the Enallasani elves. (Details of sex and gender below).

However, these features are known mainly to the elves of the clan who can trace their ancestry back to the first elves to arrive in the Orthlands centuries ago. The incorporation of runaway elvhen slaves and others have dampened such features in the children of Enallsani elves and other elves. Many children born of these unions stand halfway in height between their parents and will trend to a mix of lanky and well muscled. They will occasionally posses darkened sclera along with the strong nearsightedness, but will also fall into having white sclera and normal vision; these traits can vary widely even in children from the same family. These differences aren't seen as something to stigmatize, rather each elf--regardless of appearance--is a member of the clan.

An example is in Dimitri: He possesses the darkened sclera of his ancestors, whereas his younger twin siblings had the white sclera. This can be traced to his maternal grandmother who was an ex-slave of Tevinter. This can also be seen in his height considering both his parents were at least six foot tall.

Diet:

They eat mainly meat and insects they can hunt and gather, leading to a protein heavy diet by which to build muscle. Much of their meat comes from Varghest hunting as well as trapping animals like jack rabbits and snakes. They also supplement their diet with herbs gathered and dried from the Hunterhorn Mountains along with tuber like plants akin to potatoes and carrots that they cultivate in the large oasis camps along their traditional wandering paths. The also rely heavily upon the Halla for milk by which to make butter and cheese. They will occasionally trade with wandering Orth tribes for hard to access goods.

Sex and Gender:

The Enallasani elves take the concepts of gender and sex very loosely. There is little to distinguish one sex from the other and they recognize more than the genders that are attributed to their sex. One gender is far from being placed above the other; they are elevated to important positions based on skill and ability. They have little cause to feel one gender as superior to another. It’s simply impractical when the safety and survival of the clan are highly regarded.

Before the death of the clan, the Keeper was one such person who existed without gender. (They were agender). Oftentimes, clanmates will refer to young children and strangers by they/them pronouns to avoid confusion and assumptions until the proper pronouns are given. This can cause issues with outside groups of people who do not understand their conventions of speech.

Same sex relationships are not casted in a negative light except in situations where the next Keeper, a mage, is unclear. This situation arose before Dimitri was born and once his magic manifested, the need for such practices was given up.

Sex is seen as a natural way to express affection from one individual to another in a romantic way. However, such activities are meant to take place in privacy since the act is both intensely emotional and one to be shared between two individuals. However, open discussions of sex are natural and to be expected in young members of the clan who lack experience in such matters.

Vallaslin:

Enallasani elves practice the tradition of Vallaslin. This long standing tradition from the days of Arlathan changed with the clan over the years as a means to preserve their culture, and indicate to others their place as Enallasani elves. They have their own designs, each taking its base in Ghilgan’nan imagery with additions to the other gods. In contrast, the Keeper and First take on specific Vallaslin to honor each member of the pantheon as a reminder of their duties.

As they age, they add more tattoos to their bodies to mark significant life achievements such as winning a hard battle, being made hearth-master or another high title, being named Hahren, getting married, first child born, etc. Most often the tattooing takes place in one session in the depths of a tent. The person being tattooed must endure the pain along with the heat of the day and the cold of the night. However, some tattoos may take multiple sessions due to complexity and cultural significance of the tattoo. A notable example is Fissianna, Dimitri’s mother. When her Wyvern and Varghest teeth sword was completed, she underwent a multiple session tattoo across her back to document the battles she faced to gather the teeth. With each battle scene as the tattoo was applied, she had to tell the story and give thanks for the strength and might to defeat the creature.

In addition, they add scarification to their current tattoos and old ones. This process was brought into the clan with their repeated contact with the Orth people. This can mark new vows taken or a rededication. This also is a mark of age and endurance. Such practices take many repeated cuts and scrapes to achieve the look and are quite painful as a result. A notable example is both of Dimitri’s parents. His mother possessed scaring patterns across her forearms to honor her skill in battle. His father had scaring patterns added to his vallaslin to show he dedication to Fisanna and his work as a clan craftsman.

However, not all elves within the clan possess Vallaslin. A notable example is Elrahal, an escaped slave who joined the clan. The massive facial scars along the left side of his face meant the Keeper deemed if he wished not to mark his face with Vallaslin, he didn’t have to. Some of the ex-slaves of the clan chose not to receive the vallaslin upon their faces, but rather on other parts of their bodies.

The next installment will be about their Beliefs and relationships with the Anders people as a result!

#dragon age #dalish #da:i #clan enallasani #dimitri: clan life #oc tag #luke writes dragon age

5 notes · View notes

anon-luv · 7 years

Text

Blankets [JungkookxReader] (Pt 1/5)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Feat. Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung)

Genre: Romance/Angst/Smut BadBoyAU!

Summary: A one night stand turned into various visits. No strings attached, or at least that is what you told yourself every time he walked through the door. His first name was the only thing you knew, besides having memorized every sensitive spot that laid upon his skin.

One night you catch a glimpse of his world. One that you had never had the temptation to roam on your free will. Jungkook though was addicting, and your craving for his touches led you to venture into his life. This new found world offering you a freedom you didn’t know existed. The consequences of your actions instead of taking you a step closer to him, formed a barrier. Jungkook’s sweet touches turned rough with rage, his passionate kisses turned possessive, and his comfortable casual talk went to promises/lies of a forever.

Rating: M [Language, Strong Scenes, Drug usage, Sexual Scenes](Will add a warning prior if that chapter will contain any smut scenes)

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a One Shot, but after I started writing it I couldn’t stop. After it got way too long I decided to divide it into 3 sections. I am hoping to finish this in about a week. I almost have it completely finished, just need to edit it. I hope you enjoy it :)

Not 100% edited yet. Might have minor mistakes :)

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies.

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

-Still I Rise, Maya Angelou

Those eyes that showed you galaxies that forever were going to be out of reach. Those lips that peppered little glimpses of heaven all over your skin. Those fingers that traced every curve of your body as if you were made of the most fragile glass. Those strands of hair that you held onto with dear life when he was rocking into you so deep that you were scared to spiral down into an endless abyss if you let go. Those promises of forever and always whispered in between the sheets every night. They were all but a mere figment of your imagination. Now you knew better.

Those eyes were grounding you to the floor not taking you to outer space. Those lips were damning you to hell as you let them set your core ablaze. Those fingers were strangling your neck, stealing your breath away. Those strands of hair were not for support, they were but a loose rope that would let you fall. Those promises were lies. Forever and always did not exist. The only thing real were those blankets, where your sweaty bodies had entangled and connected over and over again.Those blankets were now entangled with last weeks takeout in the deep depths of trash, along with the memories of haunting smiles. At least that is what you liked to tell yourself. That was probably a lie too.

He was beautiful. The mere sight of his strong back, as he cooked eggs in the morning, had instantly captured your heart. You were expecting for him to be gone, like the many one night stands had done before. Seeing him in front of you in nothing but a pair of iron man boxers had shocked you. You were not sure what to say, but as you walked in close enough to see the purple and pink love bites sprinkled across his shoulders, you grew bolder. Your arms encircled his waist causing him to jump slightly.

“You are quite a breathtaking sight to wake up to in the morning” you said with a slightly rough edge to your morning voice. You cleared your throat embarrassed at the tone that it had just emitted.

He chuckled “You are quite an angelic one if I may say so myself, but my hunger won over after 2 hours awaiting for those curly eyelashes to grant me the wish of seeing what laid beneath them”

A blush spread across your cheeks. You knew you were a heavy sleeper. Your friends had teased you countless times about your outstanding ability to sleep throughout even the loudest of noises.

He grasped your waist and hoisted you up onto the counter. His eyes looking into yours as his mouth made a silent path towards yours. When your lips were about to meet, he surprised you by putting a strawberry in his mouth, biting it. Your eyes darted down to his red stained lips, and before you knew it your lips were against his trying to taste the sweet remnants that coated his lips.

The kiss building up in passion only to be broken by the sound of your stomach growling.

He chuckled causing his doe eyes to crinkle making his face look more boyish.

He scooped up a bit of egg from the pan and offered it to you. You opened your mouth and devoured it. You had never been a good cook, and home cooked meals were a rarity. The fact that he had scavenged and found something to make in your fridge had been a miracle.

He passed you a plate and you both ate in silence in the kitchen. The items diminishing bit by bit from your plate.

“I know this is probably going to make me look like an asshole….but I was wondering…..I’m actually quite curious…” he started stumbling over his words cutely causing a small smile to graze your lips.

“Spit it” you said nudging him playfully. Causing a bunny looking smile to sprout from his lips.

“What is your name??” he said scratching his head with a small tilt of his head.

“(Y/N), and yours Romeo?” you asked while shoving the last bite of eggs off your plate.

“Jungkook” he replied as he took a sip of freshly brewed coffee you are guessing he had prepared.

You took away the coffee mug from his hands and took a sip of the dark bitter liquid.

“Jungkook…pretty hot name….goes well with that bod” you flirted not, aware of the consequences behind the words. If you knew what it would bring in the future would you have taken them back??

You wish you had never asked his name. The sin of moaning his name through the nights with no promise of tomorrow had become a routine. A way of escape for the both of you. His number was not saved on your phone. Your birthday or job occupation were not a matter of importance in his world. Your apartment, the only link established between the both of you.

After the first visit to your apartment, you did not expect his presence to become a constant. A kiss, the only thing exchanged before the door closed behind him.

A week later he was in your entrance, a bruised cheek and a split lip. You let him in without questioning. Unconsciously letting the devil inside your home. Aiding his physical and mental wounds with antibiotic cream, bandages, soft touches, and kisses had become your addiction. He was dangerous.

It had been a year, and till this day the only thing you knew about him was his first name and the way your name sounded when he moaned it through the night. Phone numbers, emails, and social media were never shared. Anything that occurred outside of the four walls were never brought up.

The line between your relationship was but a mere dotted one, allowing him to wander off and come back whenever necessary.

You did not care, or at least that was what you told yourself.

You went on dates, and even held a relationships as his surprise visits continued. Jungkook never knew or askes.

The unspoken permission to seek comfort in another bed when he was absent, given through nights without traces of purple kisses marking your skin. On the contrary, you made sure to leave him a souvenir, that would be fading to yellow awaiting for a new to take its place.

You had a tendency to steer away from large crowds unlike your friends. Their persistent coaxing worked about 20 percent of the time ,and this specific Friday night, their success send them flying out the door with you in a red skintight dress.

30 minutes in and you were already on the tip of your toes trying to sneak out of the crowded hell. How could anyone call this fun??

“(Y/N), have a drink please!” Your friend Danielle screamed hoping you would be able to hear her through the mass of people surrounding you. The bass of the music consuming most of her words, leaving it to your lip reading skills to unravel the message.

You rolled your eyes as you gulped down the bitter shot. Your tongue burning by the unfamiliar liquid, that had only been in your system before in the rare opportunity.

“There, now I am going home” you said as you stood up walking away. Your body with a slight coat of sweat due to the lack of available oxygen surrounding you.

“Don’t do that. The night just started. Don’t be a party shitter” she screamed after you. You were sure Danielle was going to wake up sounding like an 80 year old man tomorrow.

You ignored her words as you pushed yourself against the crowd, who rubbed against one another as if they were magic lamps. Your body feeling the condensation of bodily fluids that presented themselves in the dance floor. Your eyes searching for the nearest exit in desperation.

The red Exit sign was hovering about 10 feet away, when you saw him. His hands were around a petite waist, caressing it like he had done to yours many times while enclosed in the four walls of your apartment. The girl’s similarities to you were mere to none, other than sharing a vagina you were pretty sure she was a whole other world. She stood tall compared to your short frame, a blue bob cut haircut that gave her an exotic appearance, a mouth piercing that you could just assume would be fun tugging at during a kiss, and an endless number of colorful tattoos that were exposed in her crop top and short cut jean shorts. You couldn’t deviate your sight from Jungkook. He looked to be entranced as his body moved along side her to the beat of a generic techno song.

You gulped as an unknown feeling bubbled inside the pit of your stomach, drawing you to the edge of sanity ready to topple you over. To say that you were not expecting to see Jungkook out in the wild was an understatement. Sometimes you even told yourself he was but a figment of your sexual frustruated imagination. To be quite honest, you could barely even recall how you both ended up meeting in the first place. At the time this man before you had been insignificant. You met him at a concert your friends had succeeded in both dragging and intoxicating you to. Other than the first hello out of his mouth, everything else was blacked out, except for the rough sex that first night, that had left you bathing in epson salt and warm water for the next two days. Sex with Jungkook had always been unforgettable. It always left you craving for more as his footsteps made their path to the outside world, not guaranteeing a tomorrow for the both of you.

The punch of the heartache was unexpected, and the air escaping your lungs leaving you like a fish out of the water, nauseating. The outcome of bumping into Jungkook was not something you wanted to acknowledge, but as his eyes landed on you as he coated kisses along the neck of the blue haired girl, you couldn’t deny it. You were jealous. You wanted him to only be yours. You had not applied that to yourself these past few months, as you jumped from bed to bed, when you assumed he wouldn’t be jumping into yours for the night. You were being selfish, and you knew it.

Jungkook gave you a smirk as he turned his partner around allowing her to rub her hands up and down his chest, no longer paying attention to you.

The Exit was long forgotten as your feet courageously worked on their own, stumbling around till you were two feet away from Jungkook. He stopped his movements surprised by your proximity.

“Jungkook, surprise to see you here” you yelled hoping the words would travel adequately enough through the music.

Jungkook shook his head while pointing at his year, and then with a tilt of his head while grabbing the hand of his partner, he guided you both to a less crowded area where five guys, that were similarly dressed like Jungkook, sat cradling beers.

“Hey Guys, This is (Y/N). A friend of mine.” he said as he pointed at a free chair “Sit down (Y/N), they don’t bite…well that I know of. That is Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin.” the boys waved at you. “Ok guys, take care of her. We’ll be right back. We are going to go get us and (Y/N) some drinks.”

You were about to speak out rejecting the offer, only to be shut down by Jungkook, before you even opened your mouth “I got you covered. Don’t even try wiggling yourself out of this. Jin, the bartender, is our close friend. No worries”

You nodded surprised. Jungkook knew you. He did and you didn’t know if that was a good thing.

As Jungkook and the still unknown girl walked away, the other five guys stared at you curiously. The awkwardness relieved when one of them spoke up “How the hell did a girl like you end up being friends with Kookie??” Yoongi asked while sipping his beer.

“Umm…well….” you said not quite sure what would be an appropriate answer.

Jimin saved you by jokingly punching Yoongi on the shoulder “ Yoongi, don’t ask it like that. Sorry (y/N), we don’t mean it to sound rude or anything….you are just different from the crowd we hang out with usually…..” he said while his eyes traveled up and down your body. You inspected their style, not really having a hard time noticing what set you apart. You had traced the swirls that decorated Jungkook’s skin countless of times through your shared nights. You had also started your own personal collection of metal band shirts in your drawer, that had become your usual attire on lonely nights.

“Yeah, plus I’m surprised Tabi has not tried ripping your head off. The past 3 years of her being Jungkook’s girl has really affected my girl opportunities. She is just so hostile to anything that comes near her "boy” said Taehyung rolling his eyes playfully while a rectangular grin appeared on his face “You are one brave soul”

You felt yourself grow small at the new found information. Jungkook couldn’t be yours. He had been someone else’s for years now. You played with the hem of your red dress that now seemed so out of place. You did not belong here. You were not this kind of person. You were not sure what had triggered Jungkook’s visitations, but you knew for a fact that the boy your body molded to so perfectly had been a mistake. Not for you. You had been his mistake. It was clear as day as you saw him next to his girlfriend kissing her publicly for all eyes to see. He made sure to mark his territory as he nibbled on her ear and whispered sweet nothings as they waited for the drinks to be prepared.

You needed to get out of here before they made their way back. You stood up shocking the guys.

“Actually, I have to go. Just got a message…a text one. It was nice meeting you” you said rapidly hoping it would suffice as an excuse to escape.

They all said their goodbyes as Yoongi offered to walk you out.

You accepted his offer not wanting to be rude. Thankfully, he knew his way around the area, and it did not even take a minute for the cold air of the outside to hit your skin, as an unconscious shiver made it’s way through your body.

Yoongi walked silently along side you till you made it to your car.

“Thank you” you said shyly.

“You are welcome sweetheart” he said giving you a full on smile. One that you were not expecting, for his demeanor and cold stare did not prepare you for the sweetest gummy smile to erupt from those pink bitten lips.

You smiled at him as you opened your car door. Before you closed the door, he slightly stopped it, causing you to raise an eyebrow curiously his way.

“Hey, I know we don’t know eachother and this is not my place, but Jungkook…..he is not the healthiest or most suitable companionship for someone like you…… None of us in the gang are. This is my business card. If you ever need anything please don’t hesitate to give me a ring” he said handing you a small white business card. Your eyes traveled down to see that he worked in some sort of music studio.

“If you think I should stay away, why give me your phone number??” You asked as you placed the card inside your wallet, not sure if it would be taken out again or thrown to the trash along with receipts.

“Because out of everyone in there…..let’s just say I won’t cause as much damage princess” he replied giving you a smirk goodbye as he walked away.

With a pounding defeated heart you started the engine and made your way back to your safe cocoon.

It had been 2 weeks and the 5th time the knocks of Jungkook slammed against your door in desperation. The temptation of falling into his arms was unbearable. The only thing stopping you from committing another sin amongst your bed covers was the small voice in your head reminding you that he was a stranger. You still knew nothing about the man you had shared countless of nights with. The severity of sharing intimacy with a stranger was brought up by the memories of that one night. You had not been the only one to soothe his pain. On the contrary, you were more disposable than those hello kitty band aids you had placed upon his skin. You were really nothing to him. Now that you had caught a glimpse into his world you knew you were but a prop in his life. One that could be replaced without too much sacrifice. You felt stupid. As much as you had told yourself over and over again that all that there was to your relationship with Jungkook had been sex, you knew otherwise as the ache in your heart amplified with every knock and call of your name you wouldn’t respond to. You were ashamed at how naive you had been by falling into the claws of a man who you barely knew the name of.

Silent tears traveled down your cheek as you heard his footsteps walk away from your door, clearly giving up once again. You continued the task of cleaning out your fridge, which had been crowded with groceries that you unconsciously started buying specifically for Jungkook’s visits. Most of it already expired due to your lack of cooking skills.

You were tired of feeling used. You wanted to retaliate. You wanted to feel free to roam the streets without the fear of bumping into the stranger who held pieces of your heart. A man that only dimmed you worthy of his touches once in a blue moon and in private where no one would witness what you two shared.

Determination surged your veins tainting the little common sense left in your neurons, as you held your phone and dialed the number in the white card that had been waiting patiently in your wallet to be of use.

A deep voice answered the phone making you hesitate for half a second.

“Yoongi, it’s (y/n) speaking. Don’t know if you remember me” you said trying to sound confident in your actions. Your voice betraying you by sounding higher than usual.

“Of course princess. How could I forget such a beautiful contrast to my dull daily life” he said chuckling. You could hear soft music playing in the background. “What can I help you with??”

“I need to get out. Have a change of routine or something. I feel like i need a change of scenery, stuff seems pretty boring around here”

“Are you sure??” Yoongi asked in a deeper tone.

“Yepp” you said over enunciating the P.

You heard Yoongi sigh in the other line “You have no idea what kind of dangerous waters you’re diving into”

“I’m a tough chick, don’t let my stature fool ya” you said trying to hide the nerves that had made themselves present after his warning.

“Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…..What are you doing this weekend???” Yoongi asked caving into your request.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #kpopfanfic #bts scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #bts angst #bts romance #bts au

551 notes · View notes

toddlazarski · 5 years

Text

The Tlayuda Trail

Shepherd Express

There’s not a newly minted driver’s license-holder, gaggle of buddies in the backseat, nowhere to go in awkward underage-ness save suburban drive-thrus, nor a college-age stoner, worth his or her weight in Grateful Dead Dick’s Picks discs, or even an early adult barfly, in possession of the Grubhub app, who hasn't had a moment, maybe even something resembling a full blown affair—unseemly pant seat stains, GI stress, a burning of the heart—with the Taco Bell Mexican Pizza.

Even if you haven’t, consider the guilty-pleasure little monster: two crisp pizza shells, mashy refrieds, seasoned ground beef, a creamy three cheese blend, BBQ-ish, Mexican-inspired pizza gravy, tomatoes. It covers the texture gamut, is crackly, saucy, sodium-packed, pleasantly messy but edible on-the-go. Processed running queso rivulets dangle seductively between bite edges. Then consider the weird fourth meal hours, the flexed schedule it finds itself plopped in the middle of, the mix of excitement segueing toward yawning regret. It’s all a bit like having a baby.

Maybe the magic is in the joyous sum of the over-salted parts, or the conditions within which it is usually, hopefully always, consumed. Or possibly it’s just the fact that “Mexican Pizza” is as pleasant a term combo as might exist this side of “Open Bar.”

But then ponder the sound Tlayuda—that rough consonant collision leveling off with a pleasant oooh of an old-timey car horn, coming back up with the ahh of satisfaction. This Oaxacan specialty is the spiritual inspiration behind the aforementioned corporate calorie conglomeration. Which, despite munchie merit, is a white-washed bastardization, one on par with the Doritos Locos taco, Charlton Heston’s portrayal of a Mexican DEA agent in “Touch of Evil,” or your drunk uncle’s Cinco de Mayo celebrations. When made with real ingredients though, a diner can expect a fresh, oily, shimmering, seared tortilla crust holding, or pocketing, some sort of earthy meat-and-bean band, half-melted cheese layers letting mouth warmth finish the cooking task. It’s usually topped off by clingy clumps of avocado, maybe a flourish of crema velvetiness, crowned with some sort of chile pepper pop.

Often served closed-face, the tlayuda in this form can come across as the more successful, well-rounded cousin of the quesadilla. It’s maybe a bit fatter. But in the doing-alright-for-myself kind of way, as the ingredients melt and tumble and spill together like late night at a wine mixer. In the fold of protein, cheese, crusty carbs, some bites can resemble those of a smushed, airless calzone. Or there is the version that harkens closer to an actual pizza, with manageable wedges, a segregation of flavor proponents, proper ratios, never too much crust.

Whichever iteration, there is a time in adulthood for refinement, for proper exploration and broadening horizons, for consciously eschewing Big Box pig-outs. At the very least, in the hopes of smoothing some rough primitive urges for sopping grease and base beef pleasure points, here’s a tour of Milwaukee’s finest Mexican “pizza.” Because there’s also a time to admit, in most all cases, Taco Bell is actually quite bad.

Villas Restaurant

Of the multitude mistakes I’ve made in life, leaving Villas with a tlayuda hastily ordered “to go” ranks somewhere between studying journalism and beginning the previously hinted-at affair with Taco Bell. The foil-wrapped half-moon shaped monster was heavy enough on the passenger seat that the Honda thought it needed to turn on the airbag. I wondered if I should buckle the big guy in. By the time we got home though, it was all accident anyway: a mushy, soggy mess, impenetrable by fork, cooled and coalescing.

Yet two indicators instinctively led me to the ridiculous conclusion that I would again be on my way west on Greenfield Avenue, in a matter of days really, for a return to the scene of the calorie crime. One, like any conscientious father concerned about poisoning and decent palate-making, I stole a monitoring bite of my daughter’s quesadilla. Then another. It was a bursting, beautifully-golden crisped tortilla, packed with oozing, overflowing cheese, bits of which had touched the flattop, become blackened with a delicious bit of caramelization. Then there is the salsa. Probably a front-of-classroom sort of MIAD student could name the color that is the orange-ish, yellow-ish, burnt grass-looking stuff in the squirt bottle, but it seems too abstract to try, like trying to describe a feeling in a dream. Singular in taste too, it is a sauce at once punchy and inviting, scorching and addictive.

My return was also hastened by the pleasantness of the place: the blue-on-blue floor and table motif, the warm orange walls, the Easter decorations, fake flowers and plants, the Packers ceiling fans. Mostly I enjoyed the tuba pop bumping from the kitchen, competing with the Mexican soap operas. It’s nice to remember that there are people back there, people working, rocking out at work too, just like me and you. Maybe working harder though, based on the mass of the 14-buck tlayuda. It is sized to emasculate, dropped at your table with a smirk like it’s a very big joke. It’s large enough for sustenance for somewhere between three meals and the time you just get sick of it or forget it’s in your refrigerator.

The closed shell is crispy and oil-shimmering, fresh out of a bath it seems. And while takeout was a disaster, there is something within where it only keeps getting better as it sits in front of you, gathering itself as you eat, the chorizo settling, the queso warming, gooping, becoming happier, friendlier with the other ingredients, even with the subdued beans, which need some coaxing out from under their shell home. There’s actually almost enough lettuce to make you feel something approaching responsible life decision-making. But then you are cracking the chippy skin again, and there’s no turning from the fact it’s a plate of sheer fried bombast.

Why does it need to be so big? It’s a question along the lines of “where do we go when we die?” Which, if you eat a whole one, you may find the answer to sooner than later. Or, if like me, you eat half with way too much of the salsa—unable to stop with the squirting—you have a more sure destination: A late afternoon siesta with just a brief stop in bathroom purgatory.

Chicken Palace

There are few places in town where the gulf between expectation and execution is wider: the overly-bustling corner of 35th and National feels like a frenzy, what with the packed lot of Asian restaurants, beaters speeding too fast, trying to make the light, too loud without mufflers, and the bus stops so crowded, occasionally looking like the characters within could easily double as a police lineup. Inside there’s a grimy tile floor, Mexican soap operas at uncomfortable volumes, and a gaudy neon-centric color scheme that reeks of schmaltz and Breaking Bad’s Pollos Hermanos. But most importantly there’s a tiny counter with a smiling woman and a cash register, offering a chance to request happiness while yielding free whiffs of endlessly grilling chicken.

It’s the specialty, if you couldn’t tell by the royal name. And it is best in whatever form allows the most usage of the deep, dank reservoir of a salsa bar. Within explore the neon verde, cool and pepper-y like a Mexican relish; the onion and habanero pickled mix of capsaicin angst; the bright tomato, with a sneaky spice finish; the dark rojo, both hellish and earthy; the thick, emulsified light green cream that I would like to request one day be splashed around my gravestone on a weekly basis. You have to ask for salsa cups, so, be reasonable, just get cinco.

The tlayuda more than fits the order for framework in this case. Coming charred and burnt-smelling, it is folded into a form that is almost sandwich, almost panini, almost three-piece erector set. The bites are crackly, foundationally-threatening for those not paying attention, but there is still a doughy, chewy finish that renders it something like wood-fired Roman pizza. Creamy black beans are front and forward, mixing nearly half with the shredded, orange-hued chicken. Incredibly moist, it’s nice to be reminded how good poultry can be when it’s not a menu afterthought. It smacks of salt, time, care, a red hot grill. The lettuce and cheese are thusly overshadowed, wilty, the avocado is mostly buried. But that seems all the better, creating a blank pollo slate, one buttery with beans, crisp with a cracker corn crust, allowing the salsa to shine like your favorite ‘za toppings. All in rotation with every bite.

Taqueria La Costena

This rolling red doll house parked down 27th street from St. Luke’s Hospital—looming like both health warning and some security—offers probably Milwaukee’s finest take of the pizza form of tlayuda. The corn crust, acting as pure conveyance, is a bit floppy, lightly oiled and griddled, a consistency of an every-corner New York City slice, strong enough but needing some second hand assistance. There’s lettuce and tomato for body, a smidge of a smear of refried pintos, and svelty sour cream to smooth it all out. Queso warmly hugs the shell, cilantro flutters about like pleasantly unchecked flora sprouting between salty sidewalk cracks. It’s a beautiful, colorful site, sitting there in it’s styrofoam home on your passenger seat. It can also be aesthetically enhanced by the dark red, smoky salsa, everything enticing enough for me to risk listeria from a recent avocado recall, the hunks sitting on top so soft and green and fatty.

But really it is all in unintrusive service of the bountiful meat-of-choice. Chorizo, which often makes the best filling, almost always makes the best topping, as it also would and could on many Americanized sorts of pizza—say, the meat-lover’s special. It is crumbly, salty, satisfying in a crisped sausage way, but better, garlickier, more chile pepper-exotic. Here it comes perfectly charred, black but juicy, generously bountiful.

“Seven minutes” was the quoted wait time from the happy man in the little window, a timekeeping call met, showing he knows how this all goes, that it is far from his first tlayuda rodeo. Back in the car, it becomes one of those dishes you look at, and even on an empty lunchtime stomach you think you’ll have at least half to save for later. But then, maybe barely longer than it took to finish your order, maybe emboldened by some clean test results at the hospital, or perhaps hungered from a foliage eye feast at the nearby Domes, there is nothing left but but meat-hued carnage, some debris almost forming a police chalk outline of a greasy front-seat crime. There’s also more than enough satisfaction to realize that taco trucks are the true, adult form of the drive-through window.

0 notes

fyeahpokemonconquest · 7 years

Text

Flame of Hope, Chapter 4

Universe: Pokemon Conquest

Chapter Length: 3,600

Chapter Rating: PG

Chapter POVs: Okuni, Ina

Okuni left Ina and Hoshiko in the passenger bay and made her way to the upper levels of the blimp, where the private cabins were located. These rooms were sectioned off for warlords and their retainers to use on longer journeys, and while the flight to Spectra was too short to demand their usage for their intended purpose, Okuni knew she wouldn't be overheard within one.

Opening the door to the first cabin, Okuni stepped into what was by all purposes a small bedroom. Scolipede and Larvesta remained outside, partially to alert Okuni if Ina or Hoshiko came looking for her, and partially because Scolipede's added bulk would make the room an uncomfortably tight fit.

Reaching into the bag slung over her shoulder, Okuni felt a surge of gratefulness that it had survived all the running through Valora. "Please don't let anything have been crushed," she muttered as she retrieved the materials she needed for this - incense sticks, paper, a portable burner, and ink.

She lit the incense first, waiting until the smoke was drifting upwards in lazy coils before flattening the paper of the floor and writing down a name. Okuni folded the paper four times, then dropped it into the flame. As it was consumed, the spark of irritation Okuni had felt ever since the warehouse burned brighter.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long. As the last of the paper crumbled into ash, Okuni once again felt the familiar stilling of her surroundings. The smoke hanging in midair from the incense thickened into a human shape, and then Okuni was face-to-face with Setsuna. The purple-haired woman opened her mouth to greet Okuni, but Okuni wasn't in the mood for formalities.

"Why didn't you tell me what happened in Violight was an organized demon attack?" she began, catching Setsuna off guard. "And don't try to deny it, because I was just chased through Valora by half a dozen of them! How did this even happen? And why did you put me to work collecting souls last night like nothing was wrong? I could have helped you locate whatever portal they're using, you know! Just because I'm still paying off my debt doesn't mean I deserve to be locked out of important information!"

The surprise that registered on Setsuna's face when Okuni was finished gave Okuni a selfish surge of satisfaction. "Good. That will let her know I expect answers."

While Okuni wouldn't have said she was on friendly terms with any of Ransei's former shinigami, she had always felt the closest kinship with Setsuna. In return, Setsuna had made the largest effort to help Okuni when she had taken up the reaper mantle. Maybe it had been out of pity, but since then, they had formed a tentative bond. So Okuni figured that raising her voice against any of her predecessors, much less the only one who routinely acknowledged her existence, must have been a shock for Setsuna.

The older shinigami raised her hands in a peace offering. "This explanation may take a while. If I promise to tell you all I know, will you hear me out?" She crossed the floor of the compartment, sitting on the bed and making an emphasis of leaving a space beside her.

Okuni recognized the gesture for what it was. She sat beside Setsuna, who thankfully didn't try to stall or divert the subject.

"I'll answer your questions in order. First and foremost, the decision to conceal the true nature of the attack was one I argued against, as well as Tsukiyama." That information surprised Okuni. Out of all Ransei's former shinigami, she hadn't expected to find an ally in the former princess of Illusio.

'What possible benefit could there be to keeping me in the dark, though?" Okuni asked. "Do the others consider me a burden?"

Setsuna seemed to weigh her next answer carefully. "Part of it is a matter of pride, especially on Yoko's part," she admitted. "Tsukiyama and I are the only ones who don't believe the existing order will be enough counter this threat. In Yoko's mind, turning to not only our current reaper, but also the one with the highest soul debt out of any of us would be a concession of weakness. It wouldn't do to seem as though we were unprepared."

As the implication of what Setsuna was saying hit Okuni, her jaw dropped. "You mean, you all knew this was going to happen? For how long?"

"Bringing us to the next topic," Setsuna sighed. "You remember your... time in the spirit realm. You witnessed firsthand how the shinigami have labored for thousands of years to ensure that demons remain sealed behind the Burning Gates."

"And if any poor human souls who get dragged along with them get stuck in there too, that's just too bad, isn't it?" Okuni bit the remark back. Her situation back then hadn't been Setsuna's fault.

"I know about the way the Gates were designed," she said instead. "The outer wall is a circle, and past the entrance, it's divided into rings. The smaller demons that couldn't do much damage on their own are kept within the rim, and the further in you go, the more dangerous they become." Not even Yoko risked journeying all the way into the center on her own, Okuni knew for a fact.

Setsuna nodded. "For about a year now, we've been sensing disturbances from the heart of the Gates, stirrings of power from demons that were supposed to have remained magically subdued for the rest of time. But we did nothing until yesterday." She winced at the thought before continuing.

"We finally felt a flare too strong for us to ignore. We were prepared for the worst - and we were greeted by it. A monstrosity as old as Ransei itself had built up enough strength to break its bonds. By the time we arrived, it had already freed several more of its kind. Of course, we fought them. We had even managed to force a handful back into their seals when someone in your world created a gateway. Whether or not they did so intentionally, that was all it took. Yoko was about to strike the final blow to their leader when it escaped through that gateway. It must have traveled to Violight afterwards." Setsuna drew in a pained breath, and Okuni noticed for the first time the edges of what looked like a burn on the purple-haired woman's neck.

"After that, it was like the remaining demons grew stronger. We... we hadn't fought true demons in so long, we had forgotten how resilient they could be. We were losing, Okuni! We had to fall back." Shaking her head, Setsuna finished, "As well as that, Hatsuko had sustained heavy wounds. Yoko and Aina stayed back to reinforce the outer gate, and the rest of us retreated to the safety of the castle. As for the demon that escaped... it clearly recovered its strength faster than we had thought possible. To tear open its own portal over Violight - well, you saw for yourself the result of that."

The astonishment Okuni felt when Setsuna was finished quickly became anger. "And Yoko still didn't want me to fight? Maybe I couldn't have tipped the scales, but I could have at least helped! What if I had been attacked last night? Am I that expendable?"

"All points that Tsukiyama and I argued," Setsuna interjected. "Okuni, I'm on your side. You have every right to be upset. I'm telling you this because I don't care what Yoko will do once she finds out I have. If there's been an attack in Valora as well, we can't afford to keep you in the dark."

Okuni bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. Although she felt trepidation as to what the answer to her next question could be, she nonetheless asked, "So what's stopping Violight from happening again? If this demon is that powerful, why not just repeat that attack on Valora? How do we know some other kingdom won't be next?"

"That's actually just about the only silver lining," Setsuna sighed. "The boundaries between the human and spirit realms are reinforced with magic that makes it extremely difficult to force through them without a two-way connection. This demon was only able to escape with the help of someone on your side, and once it was in Violight, it would have taken an incredible amount of power to force its own gateway open. It's going to have been greatly drained from it."

"Alright," Okuni began. "But do we know how quickly it recovers? What's preventing it from just opening portals all over Ransei before we can seal it away for good?"

"You didn't let me finish," Setsuna said with a small smile."It's true that the Violight attack allowed a fair amount of demons into Ransei. But nothing short of the power of a god could tear multiple gateways open at once. It may have been some centuries since I called your Ransei home, but I don't recall anything capable of granting that kind of power simply up for the taking."

"Well, the Legendary Pokemon did share its power with Lady Rei atop Infinite Tower," Okuni recalled. "But Lady Rei emphasized how it told her that it could only happen once, and that after that battle she would no longer be able to access it." Remembering a detail from her earlier conversation with Hoshiko, Okuni remarked, "In fact, stories of the Legendary Pokemon bestowing its power onto warriors it deems worthy can be found all throughout Ransei's history. But even if it were to descend twice in one lifetime, I doubt it would be to give that power to a destruction-hungry demon."

"Isn't that reassuring?" Setsuna bitterly laughed. Meeting Okuni's eyes, her face fell. "Okuni, what's your plan from here? I can do my best to keep you informed from the spirit world, but ultimately, my time in your Ransei ended when you took up my duties. The laws of the spirit world dictate that unless it is directly attacked once more, the former shinigami will not be able to engage this demon again. It's one thing for me to communicate with you, but in the human realm, it's difficult for me to interact with anything that does not have strong ties to the spirit realm. Unless this demon sets its sights on the shinigami, it will fall to the seventeen kingdoms to defeat it. Do you believe that could be done?"

"Yes, I do," Okuni affirmed. "Especially once word of what happened in Violight and Valora gets out."

Rising, she finished, "And as for what I plan to do, first, I'm going back to Spectra."

By the time Okuni returned, Ina had been unsuccessfully attempting to strike up a tentative conversation with Hoshiko. Try as Ina might, the Wailord in the room regarding what Hoshiko could have possibly done to warrant Ina's home being attacked over her wasn't an easy one to overcome. And since Hoshiko didn't have any Pokemon with her for Ina to talk about, all that was really left to her was...

"Lovely weather out there, isn't it?" Ina mentally groaned as a thunderclap outside immediately followed, and even Prinplup gave her a disbelieving look. "The weather, Ina? You can do better than that!"

Hoshiko, on the other hand, didn't seem to be bothered. "Well, it seems in spite of the storm, the blimp is still going to be landing on schedule."

Fortunately for Ina, Okuni and her Pokemon rejoined them right as Ina was beginning to think she couldn't possibly do this.

"Is everything alright, Okuni?" Hoshiko asked. "You took your time."

Okuni nodded. "Yes, there were just a few things I needed to discuss with the pilot." Ina couldn't help but notice the slight edge to Okuni's voice, but maybe that was just the last of the adrenaline from Valora.

The shrine maiden let out a breath. "Alright, we'll be touching down in Spectra soon. Once we're inside the castle, I'll inform Lady No about what's happened, and you two can settle in and contact whomever you like."

"That will certainly be an interesting letter to write," Ina thought. "Dear Father and Lord Ieyasu, don't worry, I'm not dead. Instead, I'm in Spectra with its junior warlord because it's the only place we'll be safe from the demon assassins that are after our heads now. No idea when I'll be back. Love, Ina."

The continuing sound of Okuni's voice brought Ina's attention back to her. "Let's see... you probably shouldn't leave your rooms once it gets dark, since the ghosts do like to play pranks on people who have never stayed in the castle before. Oh, and despite what you may have heard, I can confirm that Lady No does not bathe in the blood of her victims to keep herself eternally young and beautiful." Given Okuni's overly casual delivery, she had clearly given this speech before.

The roar of the engine began to grow louder, and Ina's stomach lurched as they began to descend. "Are we landing already?"

Okuni nodded. "By blimp, the trip from Valora to Spectra isn't even two hours. The pilot was able to take it faster too since we're the only passengers." Flashing a smirk at Ina, she added on, "Even in spite of this not-so-lovely weather."

In spite of herself, Ina laughed. "You heard?"

"Oh yes," Okuni giggled. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you."

They set about collecting their belongings, and as Ina retrieved her coinpurse from atop a stack of crates, she suddenly felt a rush of sadness. She had left Valora's castle just hours earlier with her mother's bow under her arm, and for all she knew it had since been burned or blown up. Quagsire must have felt her grief down their link, because it came over and gave her a reassuring nudge with its head.

"Thank you," Ina murmured to the Ground Pokemon. "I just don't want it to have met its end like that."

If either Okuni or Hoshiko overheard, they were kind enough to not say anything. The next few minutes passed in relative silence until they felt the thud of the blimp touching down. The exit ramp unfolded, and together the unlikely companions stepped out onto Spectra's airfield.

Ina hadn't traveled to many other kingdoms - only Nixtorm, and Dragnor once when Lord Ieyasu had sworn fealty to Lord Nobunaga. To her disappointment, her first impression of Spectra was... rather underwhelming. Although, the sheets of rain currently pouring down around them probably had something to do with that.

"Wonderful," Okuni muttered. "We'll have to make a run for it."

"I'm sorry?" Ina gaped. "I can't even make out the end of the airfield! We're more likely to drown out in that deluge than find our way to the castle!" On the other side of Okuni, similar grievances were mirrored upon Hoshiko's face.

"Well, the rain clearly won't be letting up anytime soon," Okuni remarked. "Unless you'd rather wait here all night." With that, she pulled up the hood of her cloak and gestured for Ina and Hoshiko to do the same.

"I can't believe this," Ina thought incredulously, but she followed Okuni's lead. Bracing herself, she joined hands with Okuni and allowed herself to be led into the storm.

Their cloaks succeeded at keeping them dry for all of five seconds. As the rain pelted her face, Ina's senses gradually narrowed to nothing more than the feel of Okuni's hand in hers. Light showers like the one that had been hovering over Valora earlier were one thing. When the ocean might as well have been pouring from the sky, that was quite another matter. Ina had only bad memories associated with those storms.

Okuni squeezed Ina's hand abruptly, and Ina could just barely make out Okuni mouthing for them to stop. A moment passed, and Ina was about to ask what they were standing like statues in the middle of a downpour for when two columns of eerie blue flames erupted before them, illuminating a path. Even over the sounds of rain and thunder, Ina could hear Prinplup's startled squawk.

They started running again, and the moment they were beneath the threshold of the castle, the flames snapped out. Peering out from under the awning, Ina couldn't even make out the castle gates they must have passed through for all the rain.

Okuni cleared her throat from behind her, and Ina turned to see the castle doors opening. In that moment, she happily forgot every horror story she had ever heard about Spectra when she saw the warm, golden light emanating from the entry hall. Ina and Hoshiko barely had time to cast their sodden cloaks aside before Okuni steered them towards the throne room.

"Don't worry, your things will be taken care of," Okuni said before Ina could raise an objection. The entry hall of Spectra's castle was not overly-furnished, but Ina was willing to guess that the vases and sculptures that were on display were likely old heirlooms. One wall scroll that did catch her eye hung by the only visible set of stairs, a portrait of a dark-haired women with a Chandelure at her side.

Okuni led them to a pair of dark wooden doors inlaid with amethyst carvings of butterflies, which she knocked upon before opening. "My lady?" she called. "My apologies if I'm interrupting something."

If Ina's first impression of Spectra had been less than what she'd expected, her first impression of its infamous warlord certainly made up for it. Catching glimpses of Lady No from afar was different from being directly in her presence; feeling the aura of complete dominance radiating from every inch of her body. From her dark hair piled atop her head to the deep purple yukata cut to showcase her sensuous figure, everything about Lady No's appearance was tailored to suggest she was someone accustomed to being in control. Curling her garnet-painted lips in a half-smile at the sight of Okuni, Lady No let out a soft laugh that simultaneously captivated Ina and sent chills down her spine.

"Nothing at all, Okuni," she remarked, remaining seated on her throne. "Although you are back much earlier than I had expected. And I see you've brought us some guests."

Okuni was clearly more accustomed to whatever effect of Lady No's that Ina was currently under, because she stepped forward and gestured to both girls. "This is Lord Tadakatsu's daughter, Ina. We ran into a bit of trouble in Valora, and I'm afraid she got dragged along for the ride."

Lady No arched an eyebrow. "I'm assuming 'we' refers to yourself and this priestess?"

Surprisingly, Hoshiko didn't shrink under Lady No's scrutiny. Bowing, she said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Okuni helped me out of a spot of trouble on the road, and spoke quite highly of you when we traveled together afterwards."

"Did she now?" Lady No murmured, and Ina could have sworn she saw a hint of a blush creeping up Okuni's neck.

"If we're through with introductions, there are several matters I need to speak with you about, my lady," Okuni said, a touch more brusquely than before.

"Of course," Lady No responded. "Why don't you show our guests to their rooms, and then report to my own. Clearly there is much we need to discuss."

Upon exiting the throne room, Ina felt as though she had been lifted from some deep trance. Okuni took one look at her face and sighed apologetically. "You always remember your first time meeting Lady No. If you speak to her again while you're here, it will get easier."

Okuni led them up several flights of stairs, stopping on the fourth floor. "Both of your rooms are next to mine, so if any spirits try anything tonight, don't be afraid to shout."

The shrine maiden stopped all of a sudden, looking up. Her voice gaining an edge, she called, "Although that's not going to have to happen, is it?"

Ina gasped as a gang of Haunters and Gastlys melted out of the shadows. Okuni stared down the largest of the Haunters, and they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. The Ghost Pokemon vanished just as soundlessly as they had appeared, and Ina found herself wondering just what she had gotten herself into.

"Alright, they shouldn't bother either of you," Okuni asserted. She looked back at Ina and Hoshiko and suddenly burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry! You're both just white as sheets! It never gets old."

With that, she showed Ina into a room surprisingly similar to her one back in Valora. "Again, I'm just two rooms over," Okuni said. A wicked grin crossed her face, and she whispered, "Enjoy your stay." Closing the door, she left Ina and her Pokemon to settle in for the night - although Ina could have sworn she heard a chuckle from the other side of the door. Turning, Ina was only vaguely surprised to see her cloak and bag already at the foot of the bed.

Looking down at Quagsire and Prinplup, Ina sighed. "Maybe we should have just taken our chances with the demons..."

#samurai warriors #pokemon conquest #okuni #ina #fanfiction

0 notes

kayliskian · 7 years

Photo

by Gerina Dunwich

In contemporary Witchcraft, the cauldron is an important magical tool that symbolically combines influences of the ancient elements of air, fire, water, and earth. Its shape is representative of Mother Nature, and the three legs upon which it stands correspond to the three aspects of the Triple Goddess, the three lunar phases (waxing, full and waning), and to three as a magical number. Additionally, the cauldron is a symbol of transformation (both physical and spiritual), enlightenemnt, wisdom, the womb, of the Mother Goddess, and rebirth.

Since early times, cauldrons have been used not only for boiling water and cooking food, but for heating magical brews, poisons, and healing potions. They have also been utilized by alchemists and by Witches as tools of divination, containers for sacred fires and incense, and holy vessels for offerings to the gods of old.

If a large cauldron is needed in a ritual, it is generally placed next to the altar, on either side. Small cauldrons, such as ones used for burning of incense, can be placed on top of the altar.

In Middle Ages, most of the population believed that all Witches possessed a large black cauldron in which poisonous brews and vile hell-broths were routinely concocted. These mixtures were said to have contained such ingredients as bat’s blood, serpent’s venom, headless toads, the eyes of newts, and a gruesome assortment of animal and human body parts, as well as deadly herbs and roots.

In fourteenth-century Ireland, a Witch known as Lady Alice Kyteler was said to have used the enchanted skull of a beheaded thief as her cauldron. Also in the fourteenth century, a male Witch by the name of William Lord Soulis was convicted in Scotland for a number of sorcery-related offenses. His peculiar form of execution was death by being boiled alive in a huge cauldron.

According to an old legend, if a soreceress dumped the vile contents of her cauldron into the sea, a great tempest would be stirred up.

Ancient Irish folklore is rich with tales of wondrous cauldrons that never run out of food at a feast, while an old Gypsy legend told of a brave hero who was boiled in a cauldron filled with the milk of man-eating mares.

It is said that bad luck will befall any Witch who brews a potion in a cauldron belonging to another. If the lid is accidentally left off the cauldron while a magical brew is prepared, this portends the arrival of a stranger, according to a superstitious belief from Victorian-era England. The cauldron and its powers are associated with many goddesses from pre-Christian faiths, including Hecate (the protectress of all Witches), Demeter/Persephone (in the Eleusinian mysteries), the Greek enchantresses Circe and Medea, Siris (the Babylonian goddess of fate and mother of the stars, whose cauldron was made of lapis lazuli), the Celtic goddess Cerridwen, from whose cauldron bubbled forth the gifts of wisdom and inspiration.

Although the cauldron has traditionally been a symbol of the divine feminine since the earliest of times, there exist a number of male deities from various Pagan pantheons who also have a connection to it. Among them are the Norse god Odin (who acquired his shape-shifting powers by drinking from the cauldron of wise blood), the Hundu sky god Indra (whose myth is similar to Odin’s), Bran the Blessed (the Welsh god of the sacred cauldron), and Cernunnos (the Celtic horned god who was dismembered and boiled in a cauldron to be reborn).

Depicted on the famous Gunderstrup cauldron (circa 100 B.C.) is the stag-horned Cernunnos in various scenes with different animals. Believed by many to be of Celtic origin, this large silver cauldron may have once been used in sacrificial rites.

The use of sacrificial cauldrons can be traced to the ancient religious and magical practices of various European cultures, as well as to some shamanic traditions. Human and animal victims would first be beheaded over the cauldrons and then have their blood drained out into the cauldron, where it would be boiled to produce a mystical substance. Among the Celts, a potion of inspiration was said to have been brewed in such a manner by the priestess of the lunar goddess.

The cauldron is linked to the Holy Grail – a chalice that is beleived by Christians to have been used by Jesus Christ at the Last Supper. However, prior to its incorporation into Christian myth in the twelfth century, the Grail belonged to British paganism as a symbol of reincarnation and the divine womb of the Goddess.

Cauldron Spirit

Many Witches pour a bit of ordinary surgical spirit (rubbing alcohol) into their cast iron cauldrons and light it carefully dropping in a lit match. This is often done as part of healing rituals, invocations to the elemental spirit of fire, scrying divinations, sabbat fire festivals, and various working rituals. (Note: A quarter cup of alchohol will burn for approximately three minutes.) Be sure that the cauldron is resting securely on a fireproof stand and is not close to any flammable substances. Do not touch the cauldron while it is hot unless you cover your hands with protective oven mitts. If the fire must be extinguised before it burns itself out, smother it by covering the cauldron with a lid or by sprinkling salt or sand over the flames. Remember, whenever working with the element of fire, use caution and common sense, and respect the spirits of the flame.

The sight of a cauldron blazing with fire can be very magical and mesmerizing, and when the alcohol has ben steeped in aromatic herbs, a sweet but gentle incense-like fragrance is produced. To make an herbal cauldron spirit, put a small bunch of any or all of the following into a glass bottle: fresh lavender flowers and leaves, fresh mint leaves, fresh rosemary flowers and leaves, and fresh thyme flowers and leaves. Fill the bottle to the top with the alcohol, cap it tightly, and then give it a good shake. Keep it in a cool place for thirteen days, shaking it twice daily (every sunrise and moonrise). Strain it through a double thickness of muslin into clear bottle. Cap it and store it away from heat and flame. Cauldron spirit will keep indefintely.

Cauldron Usage

Using a cauldron, symbol of inspiration and rebirth, has brought new dimensions to both group and solitary work. A cauldron decorates the center of the Circle during Lesser Sabbats. An air cauldron at a spring rite creates a misty, magical quality for the ceremony. In summer, the cauldron will flash and spark. A blue flame burns mysteriously within the Water cauldron during the autumn festival. Throughout Yule, the Earth cauldron burns steadfast and constant. During moon rites, when magick is done, we write the purpose of our working on flash papers and toss them into the burning cauldron while chanting.

A working cauldron should be of cast iron, with a tight-fitting lid, three sturdy legs, and a strong handle. Season your cauldron before using it for the first time. Pour in generous helping of salt and lighter fluid, slosh it up to the rim and wipe dry. For indoor use it MUST have a fireproof base or your workings will summon up yellow-coated salamander spirits from the fire department.

EARTH Cauldron Layer salt, wax shavings, three powdered or ground herbs, lighter fluid and ivy leaves in the cauldron while focus and chanting. Use a candle to light it. When the smoke starts to roll, extinguish the cauldron by putting the lid on.

AIR Cauldron Using tongs, put a chunk of dry ice is a small glass or ceramic bowl and place the bowl on a cloth in the bottom of the cauldron. Allow the cauldron to smoke as long as the ice lasts. The mists create excellent images for scrying.

FIRE Cauldron Cover the inside bottom with dirt or sand to dissipate heat. Light incense charcoal and add either salt-peter for flame and spark or flash powder for a different but spectacular effect. To assist in releasing or firing off peak energy, try using flash “bombs”. Make a small pocket in a piece of flash paper, fill with flash powder and tie with thread. The “bomb” should be about the size of your smallest fingernail. The results are spectacularly bright, so use the powder sparingly. Don’t look directly at the flash as you drop the “bomb” in the cauldron.

WATER Cauldron At least seven days before the ritual, place equal quantities of three appropriate herbs in a pint glass jar. Fill the rest of the jar with Everclear (200 proof alcohol), cap tightly, and shake gently while concentrating on the purpose of the ritual. Add a chant if its feels right. Let the jar rest in a dark, warm spot and shake twice daily, charging with purpose. Before the ritual, place a fireproof ceramic or glass bowl in the cauldron. Pour in the herb mixture, being careful none spills into the cauldron. Light with a candle to produce a beautiful blue flame.

The cauldron, as the fifth elemental spirit, symbolizes inspiration, rebirth, illumination and rejuvenation. Use a Fire cauldron with salt-peter to cast a Circle. Use the mists of an Air cauldron for an initiation. Burn away hate, prejudice and negative self-images, with a Water cauldron. The Earth cauldron is ideal for indoor Beltane rites.

Remember to place a burning cauldron on a fireproof surface. Practice safety when using any volatile materials and you will enjoy your cauldron for many rites.

Cauldron Lore

The cauldron or pot symbolizes cyclical time and the lunar calendar.This is because the cauldron represents the womb of rebirth, the bowl of blood held by the Hindu Kali and other goddesses. This blood is the Wise Blood from the Cosmic Womb. It has been called soma by the Hindus, red claret by the Celts, and greal by the Welsh Bards. In Vedic myth, Indra stole the soma so that he could rule over all the gods, a reference to the stealing of importance and power from the Goddess for a patriarchal god.

The Goddess and Her cauldron is the center of all feminine power andevery female group. Spiritual transformation can only come through Hercauldron,or belly-womb. Ancient tradition says that only women can tap into the great power of the cauldron, for only women are made in the image of the Goddess with Her all-renewing womb of rebirth and transformation. This tradition remains in the figure of the witch and her cauldron.

The cauldron is also the repository of inspiration and magick, asseen in Cerridwen’s cauldron which was sought by the Bards. The Goddess has long been considered to be the source of inspiration and the Mistress of Magick. When a true initiation takes place, the initiate willingly descends into the cauldron, she is often filled with ecstatic emotions when she returns to her present state. She may sing, play music, dance, prophesy, see visions, or become creative in poetry and prose. In short, she is filled with Goddess spirit and inspiration, the type of power that only comes from the sacred cauldron. Such Bards as Taliesin stated that they regularly “drank”from the cauldron to promote their creativity and divine inspiration.

Magickal Meaning: development of psychic gifts; creative talentsbeing used Coming to terms with physical death, either through the death of someone close to you, or a very personal experience in dreams and/or meditation.”

#Cauldron lore #witchcraft #information #cauldron #magick

0 notes

darker--serenity-blog · 8 years

Text

Apr. 7. 2014.

With a sigh, I close my dormitory door, and turn back to the pile of books on my bed, I had practically raided the dorms library, after taking about two hours of finding it, I had taken about five books from the side that I needed. All things about magic that the coven had, most had been rewritten over the years of being passed down. I walked over, climbed into bed, and sat with my back against the wall,picking up the first book I saw, "Expression.-The Dark Magic." I shudder slightly before opening it, bringing a blood bag that I had put a bendy straw in to my lips as I read. "Expression is a form of extremely dark and powerful sorcery that draws on energy that is so malicious it would supposedly demolish the world if it were ever called into existence. The details and history of expression remain unknown, the forces of expression are considered so powerful that many witches discredit it as magic, for it expands beyond the limitations of both ancient and modern witchcraft." I sigh and look at the page across and read on. "Expression is the most powerful, yet most dangerous form of magic, not meant to be used on a daily basis like Ancestral magic. Anyone who uses this magic can bend it to do anything and everything that they wish from it. When you use this type of magic, you are breaking off from your natural magic anchor. The use of this magic in the coven isn't optional. Those who use it, and can wield it, will be terminated." I almost choke on the blood.... 'Terminated... killed. Wow..' I read on curiously. "Expression is almost the exact same as Dark Magic, and the same rules apply for the coven. Dark Magic also known as Black Magic, is a form of witchcraft that draws on malevolent powers, and may be used for dark purposes that deliberately cause harm in some way. In popular usage, the term "dark magic" is often used to describe any form of magic that goes against the balance of nature. It can be used to kill, dismember, and harm easily. Once you start with Dark Magic, you will never fully control it. You will have a constant need to use it, most likely to cause harm to someone. {Flipping the page, I read the list of spells classified under this type of magic. Almost scarred of this form} Resurrection Spell -Magic used to bring the deceased back to life. Requires sacrificing another life, or channeling a large amount of power. No one in the coven has needed to use this magic, and so we do not know much about it. But it has been in grimores before this. Desiccation Spell -Used to stop the heart of a living (or undead) being. Requires stopping the hearts of both a vampire and human simultaneously. Meaning that to kill a vampire with this spell, you must sacrifice a human. Which. Goes against our laws. Transference Spell - Transfers a person's soul from their original body to another host body. It seems that both the host body and the transfer body must be alive (or undead) and cannot work if either body is destroyed. It is unknown what happens to the soul of the body being possessed during the possession. Also allows to bypass invitation barriers. The requirements are unknown, though it is hinted it requires blood from both bodies. The Harvest Ritual that the our coven of witches perform every three hundred years to appease our ancestors and renew our magic can also be considered dark magic as it requires four sacrifices. It is the only spell under this classification of magic we use. Or that is even allowed.” I set the book in my lap, resting my head back against the wall with a soft sigh. The Harvest Ritual was dark magic. I knew it. It had been the only dark magic that would be allowed. I shake my head, looking down at the book. I close it, not wanting to read more into /that/ kind of magic, I grab another, and flip it open to the first page, smiling when I read. "Elemental Control is the act of controlling and manipulating the elements of earth, fire, water and air. The capabilities may include moving, altering, and mixing existing elements and changing weather elements." I sip again, reading this book easily and happily. "Fire (Pyrokinesis ): This has control of the flames, embers, or any object with a temperature considerably higher. The manipulation of fire is one of the most used and basic in the use of magic. However, it requires concentration, as loss of control of whoever uses this power can lead to mass destruction and death. Fire is associated with strong emotions such as passion, anger, rage." I nod to myself, knowing /that/ fact all to well. "Water (Hydrokinesis): This has control of the bodies of water, liquids of any kind. The manipulation of water is used for divination, healing and restoration of nature. Despite not being widely used as an element attack, it requires concentration to comply with the desired goal. Water is associated with passive emotions such as serenity, tranquility." I let out a deep sigh, well, never going to get that one down. "Air (Aerokinesis): This has control of the gusts of wind, tornadoes, etc. The manipulation of air is used for causing storms, creating rain or cleaning the environment. Despite not being widely used as an element attack unlike the other elements, air is both the weakest and the most powerful at once. It requires concentration to comply with the desired goal. Air is associated with emotions such as freedom, harmony, wholeness." Tilts my head thinking back to the times I've used it out of anger before shaking my head and moving on. "Earth (Geokinesis): This has control of the minerals and earth movements. The manipulation of earth is used for earthquakes, tremors, and agriculture. This element is considered to be the most difficult to handle, since its shape is solid which makes it less flexible in comparison to the other elements. However, it is a good element to use as a powerful defense or attack against the enemy. Earth is associated with patience, strength, stability, goodness." {snorts out a laugh. "Patience." I sit back, reading on.} "An advanced well practiced witch may be able to work with the next. Lightning (Electrokinesis): This can control the energy in the environment. Due to the complexity and difficulties in controlling this element. It is extremely aggressive and lethal in comparison with the other four elements, as it is pure energy capable of destroying a physical body and reduce it to ashes in seconds." I stare at the paragraph not sure how to even take it. My eyes travel to a written in note on the side of the page. "Despite its weak appearance, the element of air is the most powerful element to control. This can be noted as the control over air can be the most lethal to all living beings, as air is needed to survive. The user can strip the air out of the living being's body." I take a deep breathe, shuddering slightly as I set that book down and pick up one that reads "New Orleans Coven. Written by Agnus. 2013." I sigh softly, tracing my hand over her name. She had been the last elder. Now. No one. I shake off the sad thoughts and open it up, looking at all the scribbles and writings, reading "Our Coven practices ancestral magic, we draw our power from our dead ancestors in the Lafayette Cemetery and so we cannot leave or we would be abandoning our legacy. That is why we must always fight for our city. If not, we are nothing. We will have nothing. Some members of our coven lured The Original Vampires back to New Orleans to take the well known vampire Marcel out of power, because he will not allow us witches in the quarter to practice magic. Our power of ancestral magic is dependent on The Harvest. Even against the feelings of doubt any of us could have. The ritual calls for four girls to be ritually sacrificed to renew our coven's connection with our ancestor spirits. The four girls will be resurrected after the ritual is complete. We have told the girls that during the harvest they would be put in a state of peaceful limbo and then later at The Reaping they would be rewarded. It isn't actually that simple, but what girl would willingly let herself be killed? None of them would So, I do hope that they keep faith. I will not be there." I scoff, closing my eyes and resting my head back. "Bitch..." I whisper before looking back down at the book. "Yesterday a tragedy happened. The Harvest was supposed to be finished, yet, Marcel had interrupted. Davina was not sacrificed, there fore... if we don't kill her before the reaping... I hope she hates what she does to the people she will have grown close to. The power she holds has to be to much. I do not see her living much longer before it tears her apart from the-" I slam the book closed and shove it aside, squeezing my eyes shut as tears begin to form, I shake my head, pulling my knees up and laying my head on them. I try to not think of the words that had been written. Instead, I look up and the stuffed Olaf across from me, I force my mind to replay the scenes in Frozen of Olaf dancing and singing, feel a small smile grow as I wipe my face of any fallen tears, moving to the next book, I lift it up and open. “Basic Magic. Traditional Magic is one of the oldest and purest forms of sorcery inherent to the Earth and the forces of nature. Traditional magic is undoubtedly the most popular form of witchcraft known-to-man, however it is also the most exhausting. This is mainly due to the fact whenever a witch uses this power they must exert their own energy, causing them to experience symptoms of dizziness, fatigue, and minor nosebleeds. Our coven members can use this form of magic, but is hard to tap into. Seeing how we have adapted to Ancestral Magic. Traditional magic can be used for anything; benevolence or malevolence, negativity or positivity. It depends solely on the witch. However, keep in mind that nature is designed to keep itself balanced and therefore nature will provide a punishment to any witch who practices magic wickedly. Almost like karma. You can stop the flow of magic without wanting to easily. As with all witch powers, if a witch if deeply afraid of something their powers will be weaker, and until they conquer their fear, their powers will remain blocked. If the user is interrupted, breaking them from it will usually stop the spell if it has not finished being cast. If a witch uses too much power, it can kill him/her, but for now only nose bleeds are seen. Also, passing out from exhaustion, from using too much magic, can also occur.” I yawn softly, closing the book, I grab them all in my arms, and move my feet to the floor, taking the few steps to the bookshelf. I set them all in and drag my fingers along the bindings before turning to step to my bed, I freeze when I catch my reflection, I looked horrible. My messy bun had turned rabid. My make up had gone runny, I hadn’t cried /that/ bad had I? I walk to the bathroom and grab a make up wipe, taking all the makeup off my face before smiling into the mirror, I turn and flick the light off, I hadn’t been sleepy. I was just getting bored from the books. I sit on my bed, staring at the floor. Looking up, I glare at the candle across the room, trying to figure out what to do. I look back at the books, before turning to Olaf with a half smile. I have to learn to control /both/ sides of me. The crazy blood thirsty vampire, and the slightly normal witchy side. I throw my arms up and plop back onto the bed fully, thinking of what to do. I jolt straight up, smiling and bopping my forehead. “Duh!” I jump out of the bed, reach under it and grab a container of glitter. I smile as I run to my door, swinging it open, I turn looking around to locate the nearest glitter victim with a grin.

0 notes