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#here’s my warden with what I’ve decided are her favorite flowers
smashingpigeons · 2 years
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Today was rough
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heniareth · 3 years
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For the OC ask meme: What does your character like in other people?, What was your OC's favorite toy/item as a child?, Under what circumstances do they find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?, How is their sense of humor? Do they have one?, In what situation was your OC the most calm they’ve ever been?, What is your favorite thing about your OC? for your Astala :) I chose one from every category. I hope that's alright. Don't feel pressed to answer all of them if it's too much :)
Heyy!! Thank you so much for the ask, this'll be fun XD Until I play the other games, it's once again time to talk about Astala Tabris.
What does your character like in other people?
On the top of the list is definitely loyalty. There's a special place in Astala's heart for loyal and dedicated people, people she can trust and rely on (almost) no matter what.
Apart from that, she likes people who are compassionate, people who are able to smile in the face of danger, people who can take a joke and fire one right back, and people who are truthful to who they are and stand up for it. If we're talking about looks, she tends to notice smiles. Somebody with a bright smile will almost never not be beautiful to her.
What was your OC’s favorite toy/item as a child?
She had a stuffed mabari that I’ve talked about here (and you’ve probably already read it, so I’m not going to repeat it). But that was her favorit toy, so there’s still a favourite item left XD
On one occasion her mother brought home a very nice pair of red boots for little Astala. They had some spots and smelled strongly of salt and algae, but they were red and warm and to die for. She was only ever allowed to wear them inside the alienage, never when they went to the market or the docks or any other place frequented by humans. Astala understood that her boots were a secret to be kept. She assumed that they’d be taken away from her if the humans saw her running around with something so nice. This made the boots all the more special, like her family’s own little rebellion. The real reason for hiding the boots, of course, was to avoid raising suspicions as to her mother’s illegal dealings. Astala wore them proudly until she outgrew them, at which point they passed on to the kid of a friend of her father’s.
Under what circumstances do they find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?
For Astala, killing is acceptable under the following circumstances: the person is actively attacking her and/or a friend and/or somebody who’s defenseless; they don’t back down or flee when given the chance to; and/or they have done something terrible to her or to a loved one. In this last case, the word isn’t exactly “it’s acceptable” for her and more “they deserved it”. Vaughan Urien, who’s the bad guy in the city elf’s backstory, is somebody Astala has killed (partly) out of vengeance. If a person surrenders, however, or if she beats them, she’ll almost always spare them. There are a few exceptions to this, one of them being if the person in question is a parent, which... complicates the matter very much. I’m very much looking forward to what she’ll do with Loghain. On one hand, he’s made a pact with slavers and allowed them to take her people to fund his war. On the other hand, he’s Anora’s father, Anora is right there... and he has surrendered. I really don’t know what will win in this case, her outrage over the injustice done to her people or the memory of how it felt losing her mother.
How is their sense of humor? Do they have one?
She definitely has one, although I don’t quite know how to describe it. So I’m just going to show you a bit:
"Why don't we take a moment to introduce ourselves properly? I'll start." Astala sat down cross-legged, straightened her back and affixed a smile to her face. "Hi! I'm Astala Tabris. I come from the Denerim Alienage and I've been a Grey Warden for a grand total of… For how long was I out again?"
"A night and a day," the witch, Morrigan, answered.
"I've been a Grey Warden for four days, then. I like flowers and plum-filled cakes with milk and honey, and I dislike itchy clothing and working at taverns. Alistair? Your turn." She gave him a pointed look over her smile.
Alistair pulled a face. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you do," Astala nodded emphatically. "What else are you gonna bond over if not my terrific style of leadership?"
Alistair sighed, but shifted into a more upright position. "Right. I'm Alistair. I've been a Grey Warden for a year and a bit. I was trained as a templar before that."
"Wonderful,” Astala said, cheerful smile still plastered on her face. “Likes and dislikes?"
"Cheese and… and darkspawn? What do you want me to say?" Alistair threw the stick he had been breaking to tiny pieces into the campfire. "Where did you get this 'bonding activity' from anyway?"
Astala’s smile grew into a grin. "Why, the Chantry-run education program for us poor alienage kids, of course.”
That’s her sense of humor. It probably carries a good dose of mischief and general tomfoolery. She likes to mess around.
In what situation was your OC the most calm they’ve ever been?
At first, I was thinking about this in terms of “in what stressful situation was your OC the most calm”. And while Astala may appear calm outwardly, it’s a mask nine times out of ten.
The most calm she’s ever been is probably a few days after defeating the Archdemon. She’s still in that kind of post-battle haze where she wants to do nothing but lie around, maybe sleep for a while, maybe eat something, and this time she actually doesn’t have to do anything but lie around (Wynne expicitly told her so). The smoke clouds over Denerim have finally vanished, she’s home, her family is safe, her companions are alive and unharmed or have been healed, the Blight is over, Zevran is there... The future is a mystery and she doesn’t know what she’ll do next with her life, but that can wait. Right now, she has a chance to rest, and she grabs it with both hands.
What is your favorite thing about your OC?
I’m very attached with her reluctance to leave anybody behind and her fear of death. It’s something I can relate to and they make for good storytelling; at one point she’ll have to decide which of the two she’d rather do >:) . I also recently decided that if she’d ever have a symbol associated to her, it’s the sea and particularly the waves crashing against a rocky cliff, tunneling through the stone and dragging gravel in and out of the tunnels in an ever-thundering cacophony of sounds. The waves just have something relentless and unstoppable about them, and they smooth out even the hardest and roughest stone. I haven’t worked out yet if Astala is the stone or the waves; probably a bit of both. But I like this piece of symbolism.
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Thank you so much for the ask!! These questions really are a ton of fun (and I got to share some writing! Yey! :D). It’s also amazing how much they can help to flesh out characters, or to reveal things that I knew but didn’t know I knew, if that makes sense. Anyways, I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you had fun reading it as well ^^
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cecilspeaks · 4 years
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166 - Delta
The stars tell us our future. They’re rarely correct, but yet there they are, blathering on night after night. Welcome to Night Vale.
At the foot of a sandy hill, a woman explains to her son what a flower is. She’s pointing at an orange starburst atop a squat bulbous cactus. She says: “Flowers are beautiful, aren’t they?” I cannot hear what her son says. She answers: “Because bees like beautiful things and flowers want the bees to take their pollen, that little bit of yellow powder, right down there inside, and give it to other plants, so they can grow up and be beautiful too.” There’s a long pause. Then she says: “Nature wants to make more and more beauty all the time. That’s all it wants to do. If it is not beautiful, it cannot live.” She’s upset at her son’s next question. “Humans wish to make beauty too, but not for nature,” she snaps. “They want computers and airplanes and factories, oh Benny, don’t touch.” She sighs. Then she says: “The cactus hurt you, didn’t it? The cactus knows you’re human and it does not want you to watch it, and now it has let you know that, you won’t touch it again, will you? No Benny, you won’t.”
Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 aircraft, a middle aged man tells another middle aged man about a time he went to New Orleans. He thought the French Quarter was too crowded and the jazz scene overrated, so he drove east along the upper neck of the Mississippi Delta to a Swapshack, where he paid a man 50 dollars to take him on a hovercraft to look at alligators. “Such majestic and hideous creatures,” the middle aged man says to the other. “You know, when I was little, I cried thinking about how I would never see a real live dinosaur. All the world had left were bones. But right there in southern Louisiana lay dozens of living dinosaurs. It’s an extraordinary world when you finally realize that all life is magic,” he says. The other middle aged man had heard the story dozens of times, but still he replies: “I hear you, I hear you.”
A young woman thinks about a job interview she never attended. She is happy without that job, yet she feels regret for what could have been. “I cannot imagine myself behind a desk making spreadsheets and memos,” she says to no one. “But I cannot imagine a 5-dimensional horse, nor the width of the void, nor the language of whales. I cannot imagine a lot of things but the pay, the pay would have been pretty good.”
Behind a blighted Palo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenaged boys kiss for the 50th time or so. It is brief, as one stops to look around, on alert for overbearing parents. They kiss for the 51st time or so and then laugh. Their fingers clumsily fumbling over each other, trying to decide on the perfect grip, the perfect touch. They melt like marshmallows in the flame of inexperienced joy. This moment in their lives is as pure and powerful as they have ever felt and may ever feel again.
My mind is crowded with voices, with people living their lives all day listeners. these are the stories, they are eating fruit and playing cards. They are arguing about who said what and when. They are meditating and conversing, retelling old shows and books they remember from when they had such things. A copy of Tina Fey’s memoir “Bossy Pants” was found in  a suitcase seven years ago, and everyone in the group has read it at least once. Someone mutters that they used to have a copy of Karen Russel’s “Swamplandia!”. It was in her purse when they landed here, but someone won’t own up to stealing it. another says the book might have been used to make a fire one night, because whoever made the fire might have thought the owner was done reading it, hypothetically.
It’s been several days since the voices came into my head, and at first it was new and interesting, but already I have grown tired of it. I do not know how Amelia Anna Alfaro lived her whole life with these sounds in her mind. It’s unceasing and I’ve not gotten much sleep. The teenage lovers sneak away each night to hold hands and talk big dreams underneath the moon. It’s sweet and romantic, but at 2 AM, give it a rest boys! I could try to talk back, but none of the voices can hear me. It’s like asking the rain to return to its cloud. But when I talk to Carlos, the voices go way. Thankfully I have my greatest peace when I’m with my favorite person. I can’t keep Carlos awake at all hours or have him skip work to be with me, so I have to learn to make peace with the voices, as they are noisy but permanent room mates in my brain now.
I do have news to report, but it’s mostly stuff you already know about. The high school basketball team has tryouts on Saturday. The library is doing open mic poetry nights on Tuesdays at 7, and we all know it’s a trap. Don’t do it unless you’re well armed. And the Opera House is extending its run of Verdi’s “2 Fast 2 Furious”, starring Renée Fleming, through the end of the month.
It’s hard to concentrate on reading these news stories with so much other language running through my head. Like this: there’s a guy who’s complaining about metal scraps that haven’t been cleaned, and the woman he’s talking to is explaining that they are conserving water for drinking and the guy is saying that it’s unsanitary to make dining utensils out of dirty metal, and she replies that they’re not making any more forks or spoons, they don’t need any more forks or spoons, they need knives but not for eating. What am I supposed to do with this information, it’s been going on nonstop for days? You cannot possibly understand what its’ like to listen to someone you don’t know, who you’ve never even met, who you can’t even see, ramble on and on about their boring personal life straight into your head, it’s awful. I can hear another person saying he’s found something. Good for you pal, way to find another rock or stick or lizard or whatever.
Wait. “Weeeee have founnnnnd ittt,” the voice says. I know this voice. It’s the first voice that’s been familiar to me, where do I know this voice, he is saying “first weeeeeeeee found you. You who are – no where – now weeeeeee have founnnnnnnd itt.” And other men are barking in agreement. Listeners, that voice is Doug Biondi from the asylum, and the voices around him are the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau, all of whom escaped the Night Vale Asyulm two months ago. They are in nowhere, in an otherworld desert standing near a door attached to no building. Not far from a passenger set, long since rotted away. A jet that has been home to 143 passengers and crew members, one of those 143 – the pilot. Asylum warden Charles Rainier warned us of this. He had been a been a passenger on that plane, he became part of a small commune that grew into an angry cult under the leadership and telepathic influence of the pilot. Charles told us that the pilot would find those who could help him find Night Vale. Help him find the real world, and Doug Biondi knows the way back.
The pilot found Doug and Doug found the pilot. “Iii know the wayyy,” Doug Biondi says, laughing the laugh of a man whose smile is too big for his face. At the foot of a sandy hill, a mother tells her son it is time. “Stop crying, Benny. Stop crying so that there will be more flowers, more beauty.”
Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 air craft, two middle aged men argue over which hand made axe is sharper. At last, they agree that the one crafted from the rotor flap and held together with the hand belt is the better blade. “No you take it,” one says. “No, I insist you, I’m happy to use the smaller axe,” the other says, “because it is easier to manage what with my back spasms.”
And behind a blighted Paolo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenage boys kiss the way you kiss when you think it may be your last. They whisper impossible promises and raise high their rusty shovels, the spades’ tips having already been sharpened to deadly points. They race toward the gathering crowd.
A young woman who thinks often about the job interview she never attended shouts: “Nature is beauty!” “We are beauty!” replies antoher woman. They repeate these calls. “Nature is beauty! We are beauty!” And now every voice in my head is chanting the phrases, chanting and chanting and chanting, it’s too… it’s too much!
Silence. They’re silent suddenly. My head is clear. I can think my own thoughts.
Night Vale, I’m getting word that Sheriff Sam is barring all known passages into our town. This includes roads, trails, sewer grates, even the Dog Park which is not officially an entrance to the Desert Otherworld, but you know, let’s be honest here. We’re on lockdown, Night Vale. No one enters or leaves.
Good. This is good. If the voices can reach me, they can reach any of us. In fact, if the voices can enter my mind, then the pilot and passengers of flight 18713 may well already be here, or some of them anyway. Or maybe the voices come and go. This is the first moment of silence I’ve had alone in nearly a week. Maybe the voices aren’t always there like, like radio signals as you leave a city or, or a cell phone in an elevator, maybe the voices can’t permeate us under certain conditions or maybe… Or maybe… The voices are silent because… they are listening. Maybe they’re listening to their leader, their pilot who is giving instructions on what to do next, when and where to attack.
I don’t know. But I must use my moment of clarity to tell you some news. Nope, the voices are back. A single voice is back. I know, without knowing, that it is the voice of the pilot. He says: [in a neutral tone] “Uh, hi there, this is your pilot speaking. Just wanted to let you know that nature is beauty, we are beauty. We propagate our pollen, we spread our seeds, we grow new life over old life, we cleanse the toxins of technology. We depose the human king and return natural instinct to its rightful throne. If you can hear my voice, then you are chosen. You are chosen to join all who join our nature. All who join our beauty. All who refuse will be recycled into the earth, destroyed and dispersed to fertilize new more beautiful life. All those who are beautiful are chosen. All those who are not, are a cancer, blight, infection and disease. All who are not beautiful will be cut away, amputated, so that the Earth’s wounds may finally leave, so the Earth may grow beautiful once again.
We have been found and we will return. Open the gates to freedom, end the tyranny of artifice. That’s all for now, we’ll be arriving in just a few moments, Night Vale. There is going to be some turbulence.”
[distraught] I’m sorry, listeners! I did not meant to do that, I did not want to do that! The voice of the pilot overtook me and I, oh, I need to lock myself inside the studio, I have to protect you from me, but first the weather.
[“A Prayer for the Sane” by Danny Schmidt http://dannyschmidt.com]
I brought Carlos to the studio. When I talk to Carlos, I don’t hear the voices of the passengers from 18713. I don’t hear the voices even now as I look directly at Carlos while I’m speaking. Like Charles Rainier’s fishing hole or, or Amelia Anna Alfaro’s puzzles, Carlos grounds me, lets me be wholly me.
Thank you, Carlos.
Oh, I also had Carlos bring a pair of handcuffs with him that he bought at –Target on his way to the station, and used them to shackle me to my desk. If Charles Rainier is correct, then once the pilot can speak to you, he can control you. And if that should happen, it won’t happen but if it should, then now I won’t be able to leave here and do harm to anyone else.
From my window, I can see far down the street a spiral of black smoke. There are flashes of emergency sirens. Now I can see people coming up the road. They are long-haired, sun-scorched and nearly naked, wearing not much more than flat wide-brimmed hats and short tunics fashioned from seat upholstery. These people are carrying large blades, roughly honed from scrap metal. Some have widdled down pieces of plexiglass windows into sharp points and tied them to ends of long sticks. They’re deliberately walking up the hoods of parked cars and smashing windows and caving in the roofs with their bare feet.
It is no doubt that the passengers of 18713 are here, Night Vale. If you can hear me, sty inside and lock your doors. If you can her the pilot, then do as I have done. Secure your position so securely that not even your own mind can talk you out of it. Sheriff Sam has stubbornly kept up all roadblocks in and out of town, so we have no choice but to stay. The long unmoving lines of traffic at the edges of the city are easy prey now for the 18713. The pilot offered the choice of joining or refusing, but it is not a choice, not really. He either can control you or he cannot. Those whom he cannot control will be killed at the hands of those who can.
[anxiously] Carlos? You don’t hear the pilot voice, and thus cannot be controlled. But I do, and I can. I have been controlled. We’re in trouble, Carlos. I can’t stay chained to this desk forever, can I? And if the pilot means to destroy you, he might make – me do it myself. Just promise me you’ll run. Leave me behind if that happens, OK? OK. But for now, do not let me out of these cuffs, not even if I use a safe word, which I hear is something quite a few people use in healthy fun intimate relationships.
The people of 18713 are climbing up storefronts and tearing off signs. I can see about 10 or 15 in normal street clothes in the crowd now, which means the group is growing. They are recruiting quickly.
But something else is eating at me. In the asylum, in Doug Biondi’s journal and among the myriad voices in my mind, I still have not seen nor heard Amelia Anna Alfaro, the first person to make contact with the pilot. She disappeared in 2012 and no one has heard from her since. I need to find her. Somehow, if anyone can solve this, it might be her. She was always the best at everything.
Stay tuned next for the sound of me talking to Carlos forever and ever.
Good night, Night Vale. [creepily] Gooood night.
Today’s proverb: People who live in glass houses shouldn’t hire that realtor again.
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Ninjago / Avatar au Part 5
On to Book two! (I have more concrete ideas on this than Book 1, so I might have to put Book two things on more than one post)
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)
Also, if you like this au, check out this awesome art by @spirit-elementmaster!
Team Avatar is looking for an earthbending teacher for Lloyd. Wu and Morro are on the run in the Earth Kingdom. And Harumi is on the hunt, but she’s gonna need some help...
Enter Skylor, the laconic, acrobatic, chi-blocking daughter of a Fire Nation high-up, and Akita, the borderline feral knife-wielding niece of Vex, the warden of the Boiling Rock, who ran off to join a circus. Harumi ‘recruits’ the two girls, who she had ‘befriended’ years ago when she was first brought to the Firelords palace, to help her track down the Avatar. They were also sort of friends with Morro when they were kids too (there will be no ships between these four. They might be shipped with other people, but not with each other.) Also, Akita is a little younger than the other three, but won her right to hang with the ‘big kids’ by being able to pin a fly to the wall with a toothpick at thirty feet when she was 8 and the others were 10-11.
Wu and Morro are working their way to Ba Sing Se, under the guise of being refugees. There are shenanigans. (Wu 100% makes tea out of the poison bush thing. Morro almost broke his neck rolling his eyes at that) There are stupid fake names. There is bonding. They don’t end up splitting up like Zuko and Iroh do, but they do get unintentionaly separated at one point (more on that later).
Also, Kai’s acting a tad more overprotective than normal bc of what happened with Zane. And he’s acting that way toward everyone, including Maya and Garm. That will be addressed later.
Team Avatar is heading to the city of Omashu to try and find an earthbender they had meet there before, a guy who was actually a friend of Koko’s from her travels before she settled down in the South Pole. I have no idea who this character will be yet and am open to suggestions (mb one of the Serpentine Generals? Or one of the Elemental Masters? They’re some of the side characters I like, so they might work but idk). They stop briefly at an Earth Kingdom base, where they meet one General Kozu, who has the brilliant idea to try and weaponize a thirteen-year-old boy.
This does not go well. Garm, Maya, and Nya are staunchly against this, Kai thinks if they had a sure-fire way to get it to work without hurting Lloyd they should go for it, but if he thinks Lloyd is in danger he will step in, and Lloyd is scared, but thinks that if they can get this Avatar State plan to work and end the war now, long before the comet arrives, then it’s worth the risk. Kozu does the thing where he makes it look like he’s trapped Garm underground to suffocate (what happened to Katara)(also, there will be no ships between Lloyd and any of the ninja or Morro). Kozu gets his butt whooped and his base trashed.
And now we get to the next ninja to join the plot! In a second. Maya, Nya, and Lloyd are practicing waterbending, Garm and Kai had been doing a little firebending practice but had started chilling. And then they meet the nomad musician stoners, who are a few of the Elemental Masters. Jacob (Sound) is definitely one of them, a couple I haven’t decided on, and Jay! Jay’s a nonbender (I couldn’t for the life of me come up with a way to make him a firebender so he can use lightning) and an inventor who is following these weird flower hippies around bc they said they could get him to a city where he could try and sell his inventions. That was months ago. He has not seen a city. He has not been able to properly bathe. He is regretting several life choices.
Jay is instantly enamored with Nya (sorry if you hardcore ship Jaya, but that ship aint gonna happen here. I don’t like, hate the ship, but it’s really not my favorite), the strong waterbender who was instantly intrigued by his inventions (I think a character in Legend of Korra has some kind of lightning glove thing. One of Jays inventions is something like that) and was able to understand and keep up with his technobabble. He thinks he’s found his dream girl, and an excuse to get away from the smelly flower people! Jay begs Team Avatar if he can come with them. They say yes.
They can’t make it over the mountain, so they have their adventure in the Cave of Two Lovers. They get separated into three groups, Ultra, Garm and Maya, Kai and the musicians, and Jay and Nya. Jay keeps trying to awkwardly flirt with Nya, who actually doesn’t realize that he’s flirting bc she’s worried about her family and focused on getting out of the caves. They find the crystal path thing when their last torch either burns out or gets dropped and snuffed out. Kai and the hippies befriend the badgermoles. Garm and Maya, who were thoroughly done with this whole lovers cave adventure, used their bending and Ultras help to brute-force their way out (the badgermoles fix the cave later).
They get to Omashu, but it’s been taken over by the Fire Nation and the earthbender they were there to find was taken captive by the Fire Nation and sent to an earthbender prison. They have their first run-in with Harumi, Skylor, and Akita.
They have their little swamp adventure, they have some not-fun visions. Garm sees his dad (which scares the crap out of him), Maya sees her dead mother, Kai sees Zane, idk who Nya sees (mb Ray I guess? She misses him but he isn’t like, dead or anything so it might work?), or who Jay sees either (his birth parents I guess? That could be part of a character arc) and Lloyd gets a vision of his earthbending teacher. Y’all can probably guess who it’s gonna be, but I don’t wanna spoil it right now. And you know that one swampbender who bent the water in the vines to make a big plant monster? That’s Bolobo, the EM of Nature.
That Avatar Day adventure happens. Lloyd tries out that free lesson at the earthbending school, and they go to Earth Rumble 6. Kai gets way too invested in this underground fight club. Karloff is The Boulder, nuff said. And the reigning champion, whose stage name I haven’t decided on is Cole. Now, here’s the thing: I don’t want to make Cole blind just bc Toph was, but I do love the whole ‘listening to the earth’s vibrations to become a powerful earthbending master’ thing. So here’s Coles deal. His father is a rich and famous performer, and his mother was killed in an accident (possibly Fire Nation related, possibly not) that lead to Cole losing his legs (below the knees). He was just learning how to earthbend when it happened.
Something I’ve noticed in A:TLA is that earthbenders seem to use their legs and feet much more than other benders, with strong stances and stomping moves to connect to the earth. So to an earthbender losing their legs, losing their way to connect to the earth, would probably be one hell of an obstacle to work around. Cole’s father used his wealth to get Cole some nice prosthetics (Sparky Sparky Boom Man had two prosthetics, so I know they exist in the avatar world. Coles aren’t intimidating metal ones with some kind of mechanism to move like a real foot) but they don’t allow him to feel the earth like he needs to. So he painstakingly makes himself some new prosthetics. It looks like he’s just got bulky boots made out of stone, but Cole spent years working to be able to feel the earth’s vibrations through these prosthetics, to the point that he could be blindfolded and still be able to ‘see’ and earthbend fairly well. He can even get them to move like their his real limbs a little bit.
He can’t move with as much speed and agility, but he makes up for that by being a freaking powerhouse. But Cole can’t wear his earth prosthetics for super long periods of time bc he had no idea how to actually make them comfortable and make it so they don’t damage his stumps after long periods (after he joins Team Avatar Jay and Nya help him combine his professionally made prosthetics with his earthbending ones so he can wear them full time). Lou had become very protective of Cole after the accident, which is why Cole started participating in Earth Rumble 6.
Things go similarly to cannon, Cole shows his dad how powerful he is as an earthbender, and while Lou does ban Cole from going with Team Avatar at first, he actually does change his mind and let Cole go with them. He even sees them off. It’s a sweet moment.
So what have Wu and Morro been doing? Traveling, dealing with the occasional rude fellow traveler, and getting seperated in a storm turned flash flood. Team Avatar also get split up in this storm turned flash flood, Garm, Cole, and Jay get separated from everyone, including each other. This leads to Maya, Kai, Nya and Lloyd flying Ultra around in a small area to search for them, and makes it really easy for a tank occupied by three dangerous girls to track them for a good two days, leading to some mild sleep deprivation. (Dragons don’t shed fur, so that’s my fix for that bc I really like “The Chase” and wanted to include it)
Morro was looking for Wu, but finds Harumi and starts following her (he’s hoping that she might lead him to Wu, or that Wu might start following Harumi and they’ll run into each other, or smthn. And if he’s able to catch the Avatar there’s a chance that he and Wu will be forgiven by the Firelord. He’s not banking on it, but it might work). Jay and Cole find each other, and then run into Wu, who was looking for Morro. Maya and the kids split up to cover more ground and to try and to try and lose the tank and the girls. Lloyd goes one way, Kai and Nya go in another, and Maya takes Ultra to find a place for him to nap.
Harumi follows Lloyd’s trail, and Skylor and Akita go after Kai and Nya. Meanwhile, Cole and Jay have some tea and conversation with Wu. No idea what the conversation is about, but it gets cut short when Garm finds them and tells Jay and Cole to get away from Wu. There’s a bit of a stand-off, since Garm doesn’t trust Wu and hasn’t read his letter yet, and Wu is getting a little frustrated at his brothers stubbornness, (and is wondering how he keeps collecting children) even though he does understand why Garm would be cautious around him.
They work together to find a trail, have some awkward small talk, the brothers start to reconnect a little bit, meet up with Kai and Nya (who fought off Skylor and Akita), and they all go after Lloyd and Harumi. They find them in a three-way fight with Harumi, and Morro is going all out with his airbending for the first time in his life. Everyone gangs up on Harumi and corner her, and when she notices Garm is a bit distracted trying to subtly check on Lloyd, she tries to fire an attack at him-
-only for Wu to push him out of the way and take the hit. Wu goes down, hard, and everyone attacks Harumi, but she gets away. Morro blows Garm away away when he tries to get to Wu, calling Wu his father for the first time, and he kicks up a wind storm to keep them away. Maya shows up on Ultra, who got enough of a nap to fly for a few hours and let everyone get some much needed rest. Everyone that is, except Garm, who finally sits down to read his brothers letter...
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brbaabs · 5 years
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The Dornish Bird - Chapter 1
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Hey guys! It’s been a while since the prologue was posted, but now our first official chapter is here for you.
I’d like to thank you for all your love and support. You guys are awesome, I am so glad to be working with such good people. I hope you like this chapter, it was written with all my love <3
Word count: 1.623
For those who are interested, this is the song our reader performed to the Starks for the first time. This song will be very important in the future as well!
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The Stark family stood right in front of (Y/n).
That sight alone was enough to make the girl's knees shake, but it wasn't all.
They were staring at her. Some suspicious, some curious. But undoubtedly staring. They were four boys, two girls and the warden couple. The youngest girl was looking right in (Y/n)'s eyes like she could see her soul. Her sister was curious about the foreign-looking girl, her blue eyes studied her form cautiously. The little boys also seemed curious, but not like his' sisters. Their eyes were innocent, that sight could melt even the coldest heart.
The two oldest boys were not that innocent, though. They seemed only a few years older than (Y/n), but she could see the muscles under their clothes, and it was more disinvolved than normal. She knew who they were, Ned Stark's sons. A bastard and a legitim, but his boys indeed. They should have trained since childhood, that was clear.
Eddard Stark was a tall man. His face and stature showed that every tale (Y/n)'s father told her were true. That man was noble, brave and gentle. He held a tender look, far different from the ones she was used to see. That man was a leader, a warden. But most importantly, he was a father.
A father like the one she had lost.
"That's the girl I've told you about." Catelyn Stark said, breaking the silence.
Eddard eyed the girl once more. (Y/n) gulped hard, nervous. She had always dreamt of that moment, and it was going exactly the way she thought it would. The people in the North were just like her father.
"Who are you, girl?" Ned asked.
"(Y/n), my lord." The girl answered, bowing her head.
Catelyn held her husband's right hand, almost like she was trying to ease his mind. Her big blue eyes were gentle as she stared at (Y/n).
"She came all the way from Dorne just to meet us." She said.
The youngest boy tilted his head like a little dog, confused. In his childish mind, he couldn't understand why would a person travel so far just to see them. 'Is she a lady?' He thought.
"From Dorne, you said?" Ned said, alarmed. "Did you came alone?"
(Y/n) smiled a little, happy to talk in front of them all for the first time.
"Not exactly, my lord." She said. "I came with my father."
She smiled a little more.
"He was a merchant and traveled the whole country with his sellings. He was born here in the North. My mother and he met in Dorne sixteen years ago, and I came into this world because of their love. After she died, the two of us traveled together. I became a bard like her and sang in taverns all over Westeros while my father worked. I grew up listening to his stories about your family, my Lord. He was so proud to be a northern man, he taught everything he knew about your house. It became my dream to sing for you."
She stopped her babbling, noticing how much she was talking. Embarrassment hit her like a punch, her face went red.
Catelyn chuckled, amused by the girl's eagerness and enthusiasm. She could see some resemblance to her own daughter Arya and her fierce way of speech.
Ned smiled. Like his wife, he was taking a liking to that girl already. She was strong-willed like a true northern.
"Sounds like your father is an honorable man." He said. "Where is he?"
With a sad look on her beautiful face, (Y/n) confirmed what Catelyn suspected.
"He passed away, my lord. A few weeks ago." Was her answer.
The children felt the tension in the air, but the Stark couple smiled down to (Y/n) with sympathy. They knew what was like to lose someone they loved, it was a heavy burden to a young girl bare by herself. If was she said was the truth, then it meant a cruel thing:
She was all alone.
That explained why she got there, it was the only thing she still had. That innocent dream was her only home.
Catelyn approached (Y/n) slowly, with a reassuring smile on her face. She knew exactly what to do. If her husband could bring a child to their home, she could take that sweet girl under her wing.
No one could deny it to her.
"Sing to us then, girl." She said.
At that moment, they saw (Y/n) open the biggest smile she could. In her heart, she could feel her father's joy. It was their shared dream, after all. And she was finally able to fulfill it.
"You won't regret it, my lady. I promise." (Y/n) said.
And she kept that promise.
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~ Two years later. ~
(Y/n) watched as Robb, Theon, and Jon helped little Bran as the boy tried to learn how to properly shoot an arrow. A serene smile rested on her reddish lips, she sighed happily at the sight. The older boys were ready to tease Bran as soon as he missed, which was almost a daily occurrence at that point. (Y/n) could see Arya sneaking in from her point of view, aiming at Bran's target, ready to shoot. The older girl laughed a little, the youngest Stark girl was her favorite person. She was bold and brave, a rare combination in a girl of her status. Little Arya was the only one of the Stark children who called (Y/n) for her nickname, (N/n). Among the Stark family and their vessels, the girl was known as "The Dornish Bird". She didn't hate the name and didn't really mind being called that way. She thought it was cute, especially when little Rickon said it. He had an adorable accent.
"That boys are helpless."
(Y/n) smiled at Catelyn's words, nodding in agreement. 
"They are, my lady." She said. "Bran is growing up so fast, he'll be a proper knight in no time."
Cath smiled, approaching the girl a little more. She stared at her face for a while, contemplating how much she had grown under her protection.
When (Y/n) arrived, her hair was cut short, so she wouldn't call too much attention to herself on the roads. Now, her (H/c) locks were freely resting upon her shoulders. She dressed in fine clothes and wore the Stark colors with pride. Catelyn remembered herself when she married Ned. The young Tully girl couldn't have imagined how much her life would be transformed in the next years. The woman found her place in the cold North, just like (Y/n) did later.
"Are you nervous about meeting the royal family in a couple days?" The Stark woman asked.
(Y/n)'s heart jumped.
"I just can't believe I'll have the chance to sing to the queen, my lady. Mother said Queen Cersei is the most beautiful woman in Westeros. I can't help but admire her for her elegance."
Catelyn laughed a little, finding that answer rather entertaining. She knew Cersei, the queen loathed Winterfell and it's people. If (Y/n) kept holding to that train of thought, she would be quite disappointed very soon.
"They will make an impression on you, that I can guarantee." She said. "Have you decided which song you're going to sing for the queen?"
(Y/n) jumped in excitement, smiling widely.
"I'm working on a song to give as a gift to Queen Cersei. Do you think I'm being too daring?" She said.
Catelyn looked her in the eyes, amusement showing in her blue eyes.
"You're sixteen, girl. Everything you do is too daring."
(Y/n) blushed, pouting at Cath's statement. 
"Stop teasing me, my lady", she said.
With a chuckle, the older female decided to let the subject go. The pair kept watching the archery training in silence. After a few minutes, (Y/n) felt comfortable enough to hum a lullaby.
Hearing (Y/n) sing brought warmth to Catelyn's heart. She didn't know which song she was singing, but it was familiar in a certain way. The girl sang that song to herself every night. Catelyn guessed it was a habit the girl held dear, maybe that song reminded her of her family. When (Y/n) played her lute during dinnertime, anyone could feel the nostalgy in the air. No one ever caught a glimpse of tears or laments coming for her. She never cried. In fact, every time she spoke of her family, (Y/n) smiled.
It wasn't a happy smile, but it was genuine. Pure as a snowflake, light as a feather. It was a sincere way of showing her feelings, and no one ever questioned it. Not even Arya. She respected (Y/n) too much.
"Can I go on a walk around Godswood, my lady?" (Y/n) softly asked.
Cath smiled, releasing a sigh.
"Don't take too long." She answered.
With a light bow and a grateful smile, (Y/n) took her cue to leave. As she walked away, Catelyn watched her steps carefully. The woman never loved Ned's bastard son, but she sheltered (Y/n) in her heart. Maybe because of her purity, talent and gentle nature. Maybe because (Y/n) admired her so much. She didn't know the exact reason if there was one. It could be destiny, only sympathy or God's will. 
Of one thing Catelyn was sure of, and she wasn't the only one. She wasn't a wolf as the Stark family or a bird as everyone called her. (Y/n) was a rare flower growing among them. A rare flower with soft petals, but deep roots.
And the wolfs would protect their flower.
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Reblog to help me, leave a comment if you liked this chapter. Thank you so much for reading <3
~ See ya!
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galpalaven · 7 years
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1,2,3, 11&12 for the fanfic end of the year ask?
1. favorite fic you wrote this year
I think it’s a tie between 
Heartbeats (unfinished Zevran/Warden)
Moratorium (Shakarian, F!Shali) 
Starlight (F!Shali)
these Flower Prompts (ALL IN ONE don’t worry ;P)
The Fool (Julian Devorak/MC) 
sketches (Julian Devorak/MC)
I wrote a lot and uhhh I liked a lot of it so yeah. New followers encouraged to check out my AO3 since I’ve got quite a bit of old stuff up there (Dragon Age, Fallout, Mass Effect, The Arcana)
2. least favorite fic you wrote this year
uhhh I guess any of the prompts that I left on here and didn’t upload to AO3 were not among my favorites, but anything I hated didn’t get posted lol
3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year
“100,000 light years across,” Kira murmurs, dropping her hand back to her side. “100,000 light years and somehow we managed to be born at just the right time, in just the right place, to meet each other and fall in love. I mean, what are the odds? How close were we to never meeting each other? To never crossing paths and ending up somewhere else completely—and fate still decided that we should meet. It’s…incredible, really, don’t you think?”
From Starlight (link above)
and
“There’s no love in this world to compare to a sailor’s love for the sea.” She smiled bitterly, eyes on the rune carved into her palm now, watching it glow orange in the shadow of her hand. “She didn’t even say goodbye. Just left me a letter and a feather from her hat. At least you had the guts to say it to my face, you know?” She tossed away the shell she’d been playing with with another sigh. “I shouldn’t have expected her to love me as much as she loved the water. Shouldn’t have been so naive as to think anyone ever could.”
I could love you that much, he thought, eye roaming greedily over the contours of her face. If we had more time, I could love you so much more.
From The Fool (link also above)
11. fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year
Mass Effect took up like 75% of my year so it’s safe to say Mass Effect!
12. favorite character to write about this year
Shepard and Garrus were really fun, but so were all the Mass Effect characters. Shepard, though, I suppose.
I’m really really having a lot of fun with my apprentice, Nox, as well. She’s quickly becoming my favorite (fun fact: some of you may remember she originally was the turian child Sun and Garrus adopted after the Reaper War–she refuses to even think about jumping back into that universe lol)
Fanfic End Of The Year Asks
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honeycut-a-blog · 7 years
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OOC GUIDE!
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NAME: marina GENDER: cis female EYE COLOUR: dark brown HAIR COLOR: black RELATIONSHIP:  yes! i live with the love of my life, my beautiful gf i’ve been dating for the past 4 (5 in december!) years. she’s my best friend and i could go on for ages about her and how happy she makes me but uhhhh we actually met through homestuck rp back in 2012, can you believe that shit??  ZODIAC: capricorn. but like, a really stressed one that doesn’t have any control over anything and is kinda okay with it. i’ve also had someone in the past straight up tell me “i thought you were gonna be shitty cuz ur a capricorn but turns out ur ok”, so like, don’t be that weird person.
FAVOURITE COLOUR: black. i own a ton of black. but i also like dark red a lot.  FAVOURITE SEASON: fall FAVOURITE FLOWER: i ... like flowers that look cool to touch i guess. i dunno. i can’t be trusted with flowers. my intrusive thoughts immediately tell me to eat them whenever i see one FAVOURITE PLACE: the pumpkin patch!!! haven’t been to one in a long-ass time but i feel really good when i’m there. FAVOURITE HOLIDAY: halloween FAVOURITE VIDEO GAME: KH 358/2 days ... and animal crossing.  FAVOURITE BOOK: i really like the promise falls series by linwood barclay. LAST SHOW YOU WATCHED: iron chef showdown ( alton why are you bald ) ( BALD-TON? ) but before that, i just got done binge watching all of stranger things!
WHAT’S YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: i think it’s really easy to say that i like her a lot. i mean, you can see that pretty clearly with any muse anybody writes. i’m always looking for ways to develop her, and i really focus hard on trying to portray just how flawed she is   ---   you know, beyond the whole “distant jaded hero” thing that i don’t think is actually a real flaw.
hawke’s got a lot of personality weaknesses, way more than strengths, and i want to make it hard for her to be genuinely liked, because she’s such an asshole and not in a way that’s entirely charming. i want people to feel comfortable having their muses get irritated with her and express that with her if they feel the need to. hawke is definitely an intentional button-pusher with very little censorship and i want that to bug people. i really like writing like that, i really like working with her and trying to understand why she is the way she is; how her story and her trauma would shape her, how it effects the little things, the day-to-day things. i’m trying to do all that while also trying to let her heal and not entirely cut herself off from people; because she doesn’t want to be cut off, not deep down. but with the way things are, it’s kind of like she’s setting herself up for failure all the time while also being completely controlling over every situation as to prevent that. 
so, overall, i think she’s a very hot mess, and not just because she was sort of thrust into a very harsh world; she’s a victim of bad circumstances, yeah, but that doesn’t mean she has to be the way that she currently is. she let herself fall to those tragedies repeatedly and still lets the past heavily effect her, which shows that she’s not nearly as strong as people think her to be, if at all. i think she’s got the potential to be a really good person, because she’s got a good heart, but she needs to scrub off her baggage and learn to open up more. 
WOULD YOU DATE YOUR MUSE?: probably not. i mean, hawke is a beautiful woman and a total catch in the sheets, but like i said, her personality is just way too much and would be too exhausting / overwhelming for me. she would make me constantly nervous. i’m also not a patient person, and if people don’t treat me right from the beginning, i don’t waste my time. it takes a lot of working with hawke before she shows that sweeter, more doting side, and i just wouldn’t have the temperament to get that far.  
WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE KINDS OF THREADS?: anything that’s plotted out, and anything that isn’t your typical run-of-the-mill starter scenario. i like drama, i like angst. i like anything that will give me a chance to bring out the anger in hawke, or at least get to show her humanity and how she reacts to a disadvantage, or a personal failure, or anyone calling her out, because she’s very dry-humored and mellow most of the time ... so anything that can actually get under her skin is well worth it and makes me excited to write about!
oh, and i’m also a huge sucker for sexy shit too.
ARE YOU A SELECTIVE ROLEPLAYER?: yeah. i care about your writing first and foremost, but i also get picky with oc’s (inquisitors and wardens included) who have no info pages on their muses, or like ... muses who are kind of a carbon copy of one another, you know, the ones where you just feel like you’re following the same character over and over again. 
DO YOU HAVE A FAVOURITE MUSE (IF YOU HAVE MORE THAN ONE)?: HMMM ... i really liked this one oc i had who was a lazy, unkempt genius and musical prodigy. he had the mutant power of being able to stop time, which he used mostly for taking naps before he had to go to his part-time job. he was in his late 20s, but because he stopped time so much, it added up and he was actually a few years older. he was also pretty depressed and didn’t really have a future, nor did he really want one. i never actually got to write him, though  ---  i’d only set up the blog with very little info on him before the drama kicked off and i was turned off from him for a long time. 
WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE TO JOIN THE FANDOM?:  my gf, as always. she’s gotten me into the past 3 fandoms i’ve been in because we always do things together, or if she’s into something that i’m not, then i try to brush up on it so we can share that together. she got me into dragon age and i started with inquisition. she then said DA2 was her favorite because she loves anders, and i played it, starting off as a male hawke the first few times   ---   when it came time to make a blog, i actually couldn’t decide if i wanted to rp as garrett or marian hawke. i knew in my heart that i loved the idea of marian a lot more, and i would be way more into writing her and developing her, but i also knew that ... you know ... sexism, and that garrett would be a lot more of a hit with the community and the well would probably never run dry. i stuck with my gut and picked up marian, and y’know, it hasn’t been the best, and there’s still a lot of characters or situations i’ve completely missed out on or haven’t gotten to write out yet because things are slower with female muses. people are a lot less interested in them.
but i also kind of don’t regret it ... cuz i love her a lot and she’s really helped me broaden my horizons with what tropes are usually associated with women, how to defy / go beyond those, and overall how to deal with writing a retired hero not-so-typically. so! worth it. 
DO YOU SEE YOURSELF STAYING WITH THE FANDOM FOR A LONG TIME?: i wanna say yes, because i love writing hawke and i love meeting new people and i love writing hawke meeting new people, but, y’know. hard to say for now. been here over a year already, so... possibly!
TAGGING: anyone who wants to. :*
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lady-fiona-rossi · 7 years
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Practice Challenge Two:  Fiona you’re fucked as hell.
AN: I know this has already been posted once. However, the ending has changed due to the sleepover being the first night.
Girls will be girls. It’s the phrase that is rarely heard. Instead, it’s opposite, boys will be boys takes its popularity. At the flower farm, the tendency is untrue. Girls will be girls is more commonly said. The defense for why one girl will cut off another’s hair while they sleep, the defense for why they rise and fall in an over dramatic flare. It’s just what girls do. Humans act like they are so much higher than animals, really we are just like them. We are savages who fight in wars for popularity, thinking the eyes of others mean you have some kind of power. This contest will probably be filled with girls like these. Hot movie stars who will act however they want because they were raised to believe they are always on the right side, or always a victim, intense athletes looking to gain approval from their parents who never could just be proud of them, girls just looking for friends who will be torn apart limb by limb, the attack done by said girls. A battle. The excuse for this horrific and animalistic attack, the phrase girls will be girls. However, I was not raised to accept this battle. Rather I’d like everyone to be warm, regardless of how unrealistic my aspirations are. Thus gifts seemed like a reasonable peace offering. Gifts of what? It stumped me for awhile, but then I realized my surroundings and decided on flower crowns. Though, this is a battle to become Queen, they are all Queen in their own right. Every woman is perfect in her own way. Despite the views of Dom, I want to remind them that they are their own Queen. Each of them just as wonderful, strong, and beautiful as a Queen.
I worked first on sending the letters, mailing each of them to the girls with basically the same phrase, I didn’t want to show favoritism. Then I collected the flowers, the warden allowing me to do so, and made each flower crown. With a soft hum, I finished up the last crown as the time to leave arrived. I didn’t have any clothes to bring so all I had to pack were these crowns. Oh and a book for Prince Evan, and some cookies for Prince Percy and some of the girls. On me, I wore my necklace. My only memory of my mother, I had forgotten her face by now, I knew it in my mind. I would try harder to remember her but the memories only caused me too much pain to think. All I needed to see my sister, however, was to look in the mirror.
The black pants I wore clung to me like the tragedy that reminded me of the ways I was betraying her just by going. It had slipped my mind till recently. The ways we would curse the Royals. Wish them death for the pain they gave us. Now I was going to cozy up to him.  I wonder what my mother would think of me? She might be fine with it, knowing why I’m going, Stella on the other hand…she was much more against them. It’s not their fault. It’s their relatives. I can help, I can help them see the darkness they’re keeping themselves blind to. I miss her though, I miss the warmth of her holding me in her arms, comforting me as I grew up far too fast, trying to hold me down and keep me in my youth without restraining me. I sang a soft song as I began to pack the flowers up, the suitcase I had asked for being cold with ice packs to keep the flowers fresh. A song that my mother used to sing to me when I had a nightmare played in my head while I packed.
“When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I’ll always want you near
You say that things change my dear
Boys get discovered as winter melts
Flowers competing for the sun
Years go by and I’m here still waiting Withering where some snowman was
Mirror mirror where’s the crystal palace
But I only can see myself
Skating around the truth who I am
But I kn-”
“Lady Fiona it’s time to go to the send-off.” An older man said as he leaned against the doorway looking down at his watch, interrupting me from my song, luckily I was all packed by now.  
“Thank you for telling me, but who might you be?” I asked as I had never seen this man before, he was a little creepy. Not too much though, he didn’t have a very good nose. It was far too large, and his eyes were oddly distanced. They were a nice shade of blue, however.   
“I work as a royal chauffeur. I’ll be driving you to the airport in Paloma.” He grumbled.
“I see. Thank you very much, sir.” I replied before picking up my suitcase and rolling it with me to the car out in front of the building. I turned back for one moment looking at my childhood. This is where I became who I am today, but it is somewhere I will never go back to, no matter how much it calls to me.
The people of Panama are primarily poor sevens, eights, and a few fours. It’s a province which serves as a large agriculture hub. As we drive I see it. My home, I had never known how far away I had run when they attacked. I was only about fifteen minutes from them. What if they were there? Always waiting for me? What if I had just driven past them? No, I needed to stop thinking like this. They are gone, I am me, I am not them. I am doing this for myself.
“Did they prep you for the send-off?” The man asked, his voice sounding a little concerned.
“Uh, kind of? They said I would have to say like one or two things before heading off to the airport.” I answered the male sighed in response.
“The people, they’re not too happy about the selection they may seem a bit rude. If it ever becomes too much for you, just leave through the back. That’s where I will be.” He explained. It made sense. Why would they be happy about the royal family, the family leaving them in such a shitty condition, throwing a game show about their son finding the proper fuck buddy? Yes flirting with men like him and his cousin Prince Percy would be fun, but I can also understand the people’s frustration at this.
Upon arriving at the stage I saw what the driver had meant. The people, covered in dirt, grime, the sweat from the sevens work in the heat, dirt or sewer water from the work, the sixes seeming much cleaner, but their clothes covered in tears, the eights hiding in the alleyways, some families of eights watching in horror, fearful that the crowd would become too wild and become a stampede. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Then I stepped out of the car, making my way slowly to the stage, making direct eye contact with everyone I could. I wouldn’t let them forget me and what I was about to promise them. Once I got to the stage I stood straight as I could and let out a sigh.
“People of Panama. I understand your frustration. I am one of you, no matter how I am dressed up. I’ve lived on the streets that you live on, I’ve dug out of the same trash you have. I have seen the same shame in the eyes of those who pass us by that you do. The way they ignore us..like we’re nothing. I can’t promise you I will fix us, I don’t even know how much I will matter in this frivolous game, but I can swear to you, as long as I live I will be pushing for us to be treated as equals. We do not deserve the mistreatment we get solely dependent on the numeric ranking of our relatives.” I spoke, my words stern and precise as I listened for the response. However, the silence was the only thing left after I spoke. I took a deep breath in and out, then gave a small curtsey and turned to the back of the stage. As I walked back I began to hear the applause. I kept on my path and got back in the car.
“It was nice of you to try and help. You know though, you won’t have much influence just as a selected.” He said. I gave a soft sign.
“You’re probably right, but I still can try. I can’t stand to see their faces looking so sad.” I replied and leaned against the window drifting off into sleep.   We had to stop in a different province for the night.
The drive was too long and the driver needed a break. So we went to a small hotel and got set up there for the night. The bed was low to the ground and rather soft when I laid on it like I was laying on a marshmallow. I had never slept on something so soft before. The curtains were made out of a thick fabric, they were a pale blue the color of a summer sky, one without a single cloud threatening to drown the citizens, along with the blue small sunflowers were embroidered onto it, like small drops of sunlight coexisting with the summer sky.
“Do you like sunflowers?” The male driver asked. He was staying in another room so I was a little startled to hear his voice suddenly behind me.
“Yes, I suppose. My mother loved them. She would tell me to be bright and sunny just like them.” I answered softly as I held the fabric running my fingers over the stitches making the sunflowers.
“Your mother sounds sweet, and from what I’ve seen of you, you seem to be listening to her.” He complimented. I turned to face him letting the curtains drop.
“Is there something you need?” I asked looking up at him with my eyebrows furrowed.
“No, I wa-”
“Actually what’s your name? I’m tired of not being able to properly address you.” I interrupted.
“It’s Nathaniel Volts, and I was just curious to what one of the selected was like.” He answered and finished.
“Well, now you know,” I replied and leaned against the window. There was a small lake near the hotel, I kind of wanted to go explore it but I doubt I’d be allowed.
“Sooo, Lady ginger. Why’d you enter this thing anyways? You don’t exactly seem too power crazy, or like you’re looking for a playmate. So why?” He asked. I crossed my arms not wanting to get to into it.
“You saw where I lived, I wanted to leave that place. Plus the food is probably awesome, and the prince doesn’t seem like he’d be a bore.” I replied. Nathaniel opened his mouth ready to speak, but once more I cut him off.
“Can you like, go? I’m feeling a bit tired and I’d like some sleep.” I requested though phrasing it as more of a demand, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Right, I’ll go. Sleep well.” He replied stiffly, gave me a pat on the shoulder and then left.
I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes. Quickly one of those dreams began. One of those dreams that cage me, dump ice water on me, then boil me alive like a lobster.
“Stella stop please,” I begged to my sister who was standing on top of a small cardboard box.
“Mamma’s gonna be mad at us, get down.” I pleaded as I tugged at her sleeve. Mamma was out scavenging. There was a parade going on, to celebrate the birth of Princess Callie. They happened to be going through our part of town and Stella was very insistent on having her opinion heard, and I was very insistent on us not getting beheaded.
“How dare these fiends force us to live like we do, while they parade around celebrating the life of another one of them, who will live just as they do in comfort!” She yelled. I felt tears begin to fill my eyes as she was starting to get the attention she wanted. Suddenly a man walked over to us.
“Oh look a little street rat? Just because your mother was a whore doesn’t mean we have to listen to your gibberish.” He grumbled and pushed her down off of her box and onto me. She toppled on me crushing me against the ground. How dare he hurt my sister.
“Maybe you’re a whore!” I yelled, not knowing the meaning of the word at the time but wishing to use his words against him. He gripped my ankle and pulled me out from underneath me sister.
“Oh look the brat’s got a clone.” He spoke as he lifted me up by my leg.
“Let go of me, you stupid person!” I yelled throwing my arms around anywhere I could and kicking my free one. The man tightened his grip on me as I felt my leg break.
Suddenly I was in the woods. It was the last day. The world was spinning as everything became gray. The face of my mother as I listened to her last words while holding my sister’s hand.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you girls. Now can you promise me something?” She asked as we nodded.
“Promise me that you will both always protect each other and that you will always have kindness, courage, and love.” She said before kissing us both on the said.
“I promise mamma.” We said in unison. Me through muffled tears. Stella was always so much stronger than me. Then she pressed a ring into my hand.
“You will be fine, Fiona. Stella and I will protect you.” She added giving me the hug I needed. Then she ran. Then I was running. A loud noise, like a firework. A gun, and my mother’s pained scream.
“Stella you need to hide. Wait for them to pass by, then run away from us. You won’t make it if you keep slowing down for me.” I spoke to her sternly. My leg still had not healed from the past year, without proper medical attention. She hid inside a bush. The last thing I remember were her eyes. What’s next what’s next. What else can this dream hit me with?
Nothing. I sit up fast, not hitting my head this time. I’m drenched in sweat and my hands shake. I stand up and walk to the bathroom, happy to feel the cold tiles on my feet.
“You betrayed me.” I hear Stella say, looking back at me in the bathroom mirror.
“I’m dead because of you, you were supposed to protect me!” She yelled as her hands stretched from inside of the mirror gripping my throat and strangling me.
My eyes open, finally actually awake. I pant and throw the thick blanket off of me, sweat covered every inch of my body. I got up and walked to the bathroom, turned on the light and looked in the mirror. I slowly raised my hands to rest on my cheeks.
“I’m me. She is not me.” I said to myself slowly before taking a deep breath in and out. It was only two am. I couldn’t go back to sleep though. Not when she was waiting to claw her way back to life through me. I snuck out creeping down the hallway and to the outside.
The grass was damp. It must have been raining when I slept. Through the darkness, I made my way to the small lake I had seen from my window. I sat down on the wet grass and watched the resting water. There were no thoughts here, nothing plagued my mind causing the constant screaming in my head to continue, no sisters to save, no one to fail, nothing to do but rest with the water. Then the rain came. I laid down on the grass and let it drench me.
Each drop of rain beating down on my body, washing me of the past that plagued me. Cleaning off each desire that harassed me. The desire to free Stella from whatever fictional hell I had fabricated for her, the desire to impress all I meet, the desire for everyone to love me. The desire to keep up this gilded facade. I had no desire, but the desire to be me. I was clean. I was ready.
My life is mine, and I am going to take it back.
   After an hour or so of sitting in the rain, I decided to retire back to my room, then got in the shower. I would need an excuse for my drenched body and hair. Once I was out of the shower I set my nightgown down and used a hair blow dryer I had to dry the nightgown, for the time being, I felt fine wearing only my underclothes. I laid down on the bed and felt the blanket on each part of my skin. I wasn’t often like this as there were so many others who slept in the same room as me. But for now, I felt comfortable, I felt myself.
   Once morning came we quickly began our journey I would have to wear my clothes from yesterday as people still may see me and we were supposed to be in the formal wear of the selected until we arrived. I clipped the small flower into my hair, braiding two strands and tying them back like a tiara. I believed the flower was a lily of the valley. They were small flowers that looked almost like bells, they looked delicate and weak. Though someone who knew a lot about flowers can tell you, lily of the valleys are some of the most poisonous flowers if consumed. Normally it takes a lot of a flower to make one ill, not with these small things.
I was the last to arrive at the airport. The first thing I did was walk up to Madalena and give her a hug. We had been writing back and forth during the time after being selected. She seemed like a sweet daredevil. Then I gave each of the girls a hug with the exception of Margarita who settled for a handshake. Calista was very sweet. She joked saying she couldn’t tell if it was a friendly golden retriever who had hugged her or me. She’s blind but has very good hearing. She could hear the plane before it even was in sight. Maria was like me, never had ridden a plane before and was a little scared to. We held hands and made it together.
Upon arriving at the palace I was sat down in a large room to begin what they called a makeover. First, they took a before picture of me, I was wearing a dull colored dress. It seemed a little fake. Of course, I’d look better in a dress that wasn’t so boring. I sat down on a small chair that leaned back like a bad as they began. They put a hot liquid all over me and then ripped it off with small pieces of papers, used weird things I had never seen on my nails, then cleaned my hair.
“Do you think you could cut my hair?” I asked. I had still been meaning too after my first attempt but hadn’t gotten around to it with all of the talking, packing, and flower crown making.
They lady gave a small sigh. “Are you sure about that?” She asked. Why? Would it look bad if I cut it? I had never thought it looked bad short. Does Prince Dom not like short hair? Wait, why do I care what Prince Dom thinks? Maybe I should cut it. Yeah. I opened my mouth about to speak but found myself getting cut off.
“We’ll just trim it a bit and layer it. If you end up wanting that drastic cut, just ask one of your maids later.” She answered and sat me up to begin cutting the hair with a weird kind of scissor that would apparently layer it. Maids? I would have maids? I knew Rebecca had one made named Melissa, we all called her Mel though and were friends. It seemed weird for me to have maids. I would have to make them something.
Once I was finished I spoke to a girl named Debbie, I needed to hand out some of the flower crowns while I could, so I gave her hers, then we got caught up in conversation. Quickly she became a close friend. Next, I would need to find Madelyn, we had been writing back and forth for awhile so I was thrilled to finally meet her. She was talking with a girl named Emmalyn. Berklee and a girl named Charlotte were also talking. Though as our conversation began Charlotte seemed a little wary at everyone coming into the conversation. Berklee had a chicken nugget crown, she had specifically asked for chicken nuggets so her’s was in a different bag meant to keep the nuggets warm.  
After the makeovers, we met some lady who would be training us on how to becoming proper ladies. She quickly went over things like table manners, the different types of dresses per each time of the day, and a thousand other things. It made me feel dizzy and sick to think of so many new rules.
Once she freed us from her sickening speech about etiquette, I found myself wandering off to the gardens. It was already fairly dark. The sun normally didn’t set so early in Panama. I walked outside and took a deep breath welcoming in the fresh outside air. Then I began my slow walk, after walking for a bit I bumped into Princess Alina. Rumor had it she liked flowers so it didn’t surprise me too much to see her. We had a rough conversation. I apparently was much more offensive to her than I had intended to be. Something must be wrong with me. Maybe I needed more sleep.
Afterward, I stopped by my room thankful that my maids seemed to have given up on waiting for me to come. I opened my suitcase of gifts. I had already passed out a few of them once I had finished my makeover. But now I would hunt down Prince Evan, and Prince Percy. I’d have to give Princess Alina her gift later.
First I spotted Prince Percy and made my way over to him.
“Hi, Prince Percy! I’m Fiona Rossi one of the selected. I wanted to make gifts for everyone for when I got here, and most of them include flowers but I was really very stumped on what to get for you, considering that my knowledge of you is very slim and I wasn’t sure if you’d like flowers, and Prince Evan has a very clear statement of liking books. So, I decided you can’t go wrong with cookies. Unless of course, you’re allergic to cookies, in which case I will hunt for something else to properly give you as a gift.” I said and held out a box of cookies to him.
“I’m not allergic, and who doesn’t love cookies? Thanks, gorgeous.” He replied. Ooh a flirt. This could be fun.
“Sadly I can think of a few sad girls who don’t. And thanks, you don’t seem to be too bad on the eyes yourself.” I replied with a sly smirk enjoying this conversation already.
“Well, obviously. I am a Schreave, after all.” He replied. Yes obviously.
“Mmmm I wouldn’t say I find all in your family are attractive, some seem a little poorly unshaven,” I spoke thinking back to a very unfortunate picture I had seen of one of them.
“Hah! And who would that be, I wonder?” He asked.
“Not sure I can trust you enough to say. Wouldn’t want someone hating me already.” I replied and looked back up at him making eye contact.
“Hey, if it’s making fun of someone in my family, I am all here for it. Your secret is safe with me.” He assured. I pursed my lips thinking for a minute over if I should spill it or not. Why not.
“Well, Prince Evan is clearly not the most attractive in the family. Maybe he would be a little better if he fixed his facial hair though. Since after all it’s not like I memorized the flaws and benefits of all of your faces before coming.” I explained, adding in the part about memorizing faces as a small joke.
Then Prince Percy began to laugh hysterically. I started to chuckle a bit too, proud I had succeeded in my comment.“Oh, wow. This is priceless. I agree. Evan is a troll. And of course you didn’t memorize our faces, but… if you had… what would you say are the positives about me?” He asked. Oh, so he wanted his ego to be even more inflated. Yeah, I’m gonna at the very least make out with him before I go. He was pretty perfect. Hot, funny, and a flirt. What more could a girl ask for? He then made a ‘smolder face’ waiting for a compliment from me. I leaned forward pressing two of my fingers against his lips.
“Hmmm well, I can’t properly judge when you’re making such a silly face. However-” I paused to move my fingers to give his nose a light pinch. “-your nose is greatly proportioned.” I complimented trying to think of something weird to compliment him with, wouldn’t want to tell him what he wanted to hear so soon. Probably something about his sexy eyes.
“My nose is proportional? That’s all you like?” He asked. Ah, such a wounded animal.
“Well, if I was held at gunpoint and forced to say something else it’d be your eyes, nice color, not too small,” I added trying to keep him hooked.
“Mmhmm. I see how it is.” He replied. Aw, did I go too far?
“Well, maybe I’ll say more if you say some good things about me in return.” I offered up, then very overdramatically batted my eyelashes. Oh how I loved equivalent exchange.
“I’ll wait,” I added.
“You’ve got nice hair.” He replied, such a boring compliment.
“Hmm if that’s the only compliment you can think of, I’ll be so disappointed. I hear it from too many people to enjoy it. To be fair my next complement will be that you’ve got nice hair.” I said before taking a step closer to him and running one hand through it.
“It’s a good color and very thick,” I added. That was when it all went downhill. Percy leaned away from me before saying,
“Hey, don’t touch the hair.” Aw, he was defensive over his mane.
“Why not? Spend hours on it in the morning?” I teased.
“This hair is insured for millions of dollars. Magazines everywhere are willing to kill for a chance to get this hair on the cover of their magazines. I do model, you know.” Goodness, he’s such a guy.
“No, I didn’t know that. I doubt you remember the caste of every girl but I’m the seven. I don’t get magazines often.” I joked.
“Well, I do. Model, I mean. And no one touches my hair. So… a Seven you say…” He said suddenly seeming awkward and closed off
“Yeah…do you have a problem with that?” I asked my eyebrows furrowed. Oh great. Not even in one day and I’m already being treated differently because of my caste. Everything was going fine until he heard that stupid number.
“Hmm… I don’t know yet. I’ve never met anyone in a lower caste than Three.” A three? That’s so high. There are plenty of girls here who are fives and sixes. Is he just going to ignore them?
“Well, there are plenty of people in lower castes here. And you shouldn’t have a problem with it considering regardless of whatever number we’re assigned for a particular job doesn’t change the fact that we’re just people the same as you.” I replied not being too aggressive but simply stating my beliefs as fact.
“I know you’re all people. We just may be very different people.” He said. Well, we weren’t very different people not even a minute ago. Suddenly we’re very different people just for saying a number?
“If that’s a concern of yours then fine, but don’t judge me until you know me. It’s getting rather late so I think I’m going to be off to my bedroom now. Have a good night Prince Playboy.” I excused myself, not wishing to be insulted anymore.
“See you later, Ginger…maybe.” 
Now in a slightly upset mood, I went to see Prince Evan. I kept the meeting short and to the point. I got a small book for Prince Evan. I had read somewhere that he liked to read. So I got him a book about the history of flowers in war. As the types of flowers and colors, all had meanings and played a big part in wars. I was hoping we could talk about it, but I found myself too annoyed to keep the conversation going for long. Thus I got a book recommendation to read something by Jane Austen, and left heading for the library. As I made my way down to the library I looked at the wall, the paper on it was so detailed. When there was a door or a bedroom I would also look at everything I could in the time it took me to go down the hall, and on my way down I saw the most infatuating person.
Prince Dom Schreave. I knew we weren’t supposed to speak with him yet so I took in all I could see of him with a giddy smile as I made my way past his room.
Thank God, he’s hot.
At the library, I was in awe at all of the books. I didn’t even know one could have so many books. As I hunted for the Jane Austen books I found myself drawn to a book about social etiquette. I should probably work harder to understand how to act and such. Threes probably need good etiquette too, so regardless of how this ends up I’ll need to know it. I picked up three books, one on etiquette in general social interactions, and one on social etiquette in eating. How could one write a whole book on the rules of eating?
On my way back to my room for the night I bumped into Madelyn. She had made me a poem, it was inspired off of a picture of my favorite flower, peonies, then about friendship, it was actually very lovely. I had some cookies to give her as well and suggested we hang out for a bit in one of our rooms and maybe watch a movie. Maddie then told me there was a sleepover going on with most of the selected and we should probably go.
I do not get drunk often. Primarily because the few times Rebecca has snuck me to a club, or given me alcohol she says I become a very different person. She found this very funny. I, on the other hand, found this very embarrassing. But with all of the stress piling up I decided to chug as much alcohol that I could get my hands on. This resulted in a very drunk me wandering about the palace late at night, which one could see, is not a good result. I found myself wandering off to Princess Alina’s room. Someone had dared Emmalyn to flirt with Princess Alina. However, Emmalyn used everyone’s pick up line but mine.
“Hey hottie, do you like watering flowers, because you’re as pretty as as flower and I’ll make you wet?” I slurred as I leaned against the doorway.
“I told emmalyn to use that one but she said it was too much. It’s too good to go to waste.” I sighed as  I turned to face the hottest woman in the palace.
“It’s decent. I’ve definitely heard better.” Alina replied. No freaking way.
“Really. Tell me them then or I don’t believe it. Also, here have some whiskey it’ll make everything so much better in life.” I challenge and motioned for her to take the bottle.
“I’m good. I’m not a whiskey fan. But here’s one: My watch says you’re not wearing underwear. Oh wait! It’s an hour fast.” Alina replied certainly proving me wrong as I began to cackle.
“Ooh that one’s fun! I admit defeat. My pickup line was personalized to you though.” I replied and took a chug of alcohol.  
“your cousin came to the sleepover and basically had sex with Charlotte. I couldn’t take watching that and I had pickup lines to avenge so I thought I’d stop by you, princess cutie.” I added then gave her a quick wink.
“That’s a new one.” Alina said seeming slightly surprised at the nickname.
“A new what?” I asked wondering what I had said.
“Nickname. No one’s ever called me Princess Cutie.”
“Aw well, they really should have. You’re a princess-” I paused and walked over to her sitting next to her on her bed, then lightly tapped her nose. “ “-and you are very much a cutie” I finished.
“You’re a little drunk, Lady Fiona,” Alina stated as I chuckled, my face close to hers as I had bopped her nose. God, she’s so hot. How is she not like already married or at least dating?
“A little is an understatement. You should have seen Annette though. She could hardly stand. Prince playboy dared Charlotte to kiss her and she fainted. Though even if I wasn’t drunk I’d still say you’re Princess cutie. The cutest most badass princess of them all.” I said and stretched my arms out to quantify how much of a cutie badass princess she was, but then fell back on her bed now laying on it with my legs dangling off the side and my tiptoes on the floor.
“Compared to who? Callie?” Alina asked. Of course not. Well, Callie included. But not just Callie.
“Compared to every princess on the history of ever!” I exclaimed.
“That’s quite a few princesses.”
“Yup but you’re still the best of all of them, Princess cutie!” I cheered before throwing myself onto Alina giving her a hug.  
Alina laughed as she pat me on my back. “Well, thank you, Lady Fiona.”
“Aw your laugh is even so cute. Honestly, they should say fuck all and hold a selection for you. You deserve the most perfect love of your life and deserve the optimal chance to find them. I’m sure everyone would swoon at the thought of signing up for you.” I suggested as I looked up at her.
“I’m perfectly fine without a Selection.” How else is she going to find her perfect love then?
“Ah right you find Sera sexy. I wish you luck with her. She threatened to kill all of us in the sleepover because we were annoying her with our conversation. Though I can see what you mean about her appearance. Like woah. Hot.” I’m not gay though, just can respect a hot girl.
Alina raised her eyebrows before clarifying, “I’m not looking for anything from this. I find plenty of you sexy but I still would never want a Selection.”
“Why not? Wouldn’t most people scream of joy at having 35 hot people of their preferred gender coming to their home and trying to date them?” I asked.
“It’s demeaning and sexist and incredibly constricting,” Alina said. I pulled away from her as my eyebrows furrowed. I hadn’t really thought about the social activism perspectives on this thing.
“How so? I haven’t put much thought into it since I mostly just used it to get off the farm.” I asked wanting to hear her ideas. She seemed like a very smart woman.
“Well it forces heteronormativity, it’s basically a pageant. And it’s not like if Dom doesn’t find the girl he’s looking for he can’t just… cancel this and start over. He’s trying to find someone he loves with only 35 girls here. It’s not as many as you might think. People meet and date tons of people before they find “the one”. He didn’t even get to pick you all for himself. Not that that would be a good thing either.” Alina explained. I hadn’t really thought of any of this.
“Are they not allowed to have a gay selection? I don’t really think of this as a beauty pageant if I don’t like Dom or anyone I’ll just act like a monster till I’m kicked out. I suppose you’re right though. In terms of activism, I’ve mostly thought about activism in castes. Because it’s personally hurt me my whole life and hatred against members of lower castes results in death, but I suppose when I think about it sexism here is pretty bad as well. Why can’t women have sex before marriage, if they wanna fuck they should be able to fuck. And why can’t people be gay? Man we’re really fucked. I should drink more, the best solutions always come from being drunk.” I said then took another chug of my whiskey.
Alina laughed then reached for my whiskey, “Maybe that’s enough for you.“ She then took away the only thing that mattered to me at that particular instance. My alcohol.
“Nooo, Princess cutie Lina, not my only love!” I pleaded and made a lazy attempt to reach for it once more.
Alina smiled at me before saying, “I’m sure you can find another love.”
I laughed and laid back on the bed. No, this is basically my last and only chance at finding a romantic partner. “I’m very sure I won’t Princess cutie. People don’t like sevens, let alone sevens who used to be 8s. I’m going to be a three now which means I’m not going to be around a lot of people who are around my true caste. I’m sure people will avoid me like the plague. Take me to the gardens  Lina? I wanna see your garden. I bet it’s amazing just like you.” I said and tried changing the topic to her gardens. The book on social etiquette had said not to get too much into personal stuff.  
“I don’t really show people my garden…”
“Oh, that’s fine then. I don’t want to overstep. Sometime though if you feel like it, I’d be more than happy to see it. I’ve always loved gardening. Even before I was a 7. When I lived in the alleyways with my sister and mom I would find dandelions and plant their seeds in places where I knew we’d stay for awhile just so I could hope that one or two of them would grow. I think it started because I was always wishing for a better life for my mom, I wanted all of the wishes I could get.” I said just blabbering on. I was getting into very socially incorrect territory though.
“That’s… I’m sorry.” Alina mumbled.
“It’s okay. She loved us and was happy with us, so it wasn’t too bad. I hated myself when I was younger for awhile. I would always wish for her to have a better life but I had hated myself for not wishing she would have a long life. I don’t mind as much now. I know dandelions can’t really make wishes come true.” I said and chuckled a little sadly, I used to be so stupid.
“Maybe they do, it just takes a while. I mean… you’re here right?” Alina suggested. Yes, I suppose I am much better now. But she isn’t, she’s dead.
“Ah, that’s true. I am at a better place now. I actually joined this not to escape the farm. I say that because I’m trying to tell myself that I did this for me, but I did it because I’m decisional and I think maybe my mom and my sister are still alive. I never saw either of them die. Or maybe my dad will regret being a jackass and get his ass over to this country and try and make things right. But mostly, I want them to be alive. I was supposed to protect my twin Stella. We were running from a group of people who harm 8s trying to clean them off the streets like weeds as they say. I had broken my leg a year before and hadn’t gotten the right medical help so it hadn’t healed, so I told Stella to hide and I would lure them away from her since she would make it further without me. But I never saw her again after that.  I miss them. But I guess it’s improper for me to be talking about all of this. I would normally hold my tongue. I guess I’m just not the best at holding my liquor.” I lamented. Why couldn’t I just shut my mouth?
“It’s not improper to have feelings.” Alina excused, trying to make me feel better about my failure.
“But rambling on like this to you would be. I tried reading a book on etiquette, I really don’t want people to use my caste against me, it said to refrain from talking too much about your personal life to people you hardly know. I’m not doing too well at it.”
Alina shrugged, “You’re drunk. And, hopefully, you’ll be here for a while. We have to get to know each other eventually.”
“Hopefully so. I don’t seem to have too much luck with men though, so your brother might quickly toss me aside. I had one conversation with Prince Percy and he has deemed me most hated. Granted I did yell at him because he said we might not get along after learning about my caste. It just seemed stupid that we were having a fine conversation but when that stupid number comes up suddenly I’m an alien.” I exclaimed, day one and I already had been judged for a number.
“Percy’s a shallow asshole, don’t pay attention to him.”
“Really? Do you think your brother will be the same? I want to stay here long enough to get to know you better and finally see your garden, Princess cutie.” I said then lightly bopped her nose once more.
“I never know what my brother’s thinking.”
“Men, such puzzles. Princess cutie, I never made you a flower crown. You deserve one too. You said you like Azaleas right? Or do you have a flower you prefer even more?” I asked.
“Lilies. Peruvian lilies, specifically, but ya know… All flowers are nice. Except for maybe orchids. I hate fucking orchids.”
“I will make you a flower crown with Peruvian lilies then! And those grass looking flowers you said you’ve been growing lately, they’ll do well to hold the structure of it. ah, orchids…the vomit of flowers.” Vomit was probably not the best word. They were one of those plants that looked like vines, but the part of the flower that’s supposed to be pretty just seemed unfitting on them. They were more like the preteen flowers. Awkward and lanky.
Alina laughed “They’re little bitches is what they are.”
“I had this one rose I named Lincoln, he wouldn’t grow right. I kept fighting with him. He wanted to be a vine and grow on something but I didn’t have anything for it to latch onto and it just kept flopping over.” I explained. Poor Lincoln. He ended up getting stepped on. Far too tall.
Alina raised her eyebrows and smiled, “You named a flower?”
“I name all of my flowers. They all have personalities. Lincoln was Lincoln because at first he was sturdy, dependable, and had futuristic ideas like trying to be a vine.” I explained. The name was very fitting.
Alina laughed, “That’s cute.” Like her.
“Aw, thanks like you. I will name my next flower after you. It will be Princess Lina, Cutie of Illea. It will be a Peruvian lily!” I exclaimed overjoyed at my new idea.
Alina laughed, “Well… thanks, I guess.”
“You’re very welcome Princess adorabes. Soooo, what are you going to do with that alcohol that you took from me? Because if you’re not going to drink it I will happily finish it off.” I suggested trying to get my lover back.
“I’m going to put it back where it came from. And you, Lady Fiona, you should get some sleep.” No, I’m not ready to leave just yet, I want to talk more with the best girl.
“Aw but sleep is overrated. All it does it make you lose time that I could be spending talking to pretty and hot girls like you, or gardening, or learning by reading, or dancing, or so many other things!” I argued.
“But I suppose if I must, could you walk me to my room, I’m afraid I’ll go to the wrong one, they all look so similar,” I added still wanting to have as much time with her as I could get.
Alina laughed once more, “Of course, Lady Fiona. This way.”
“Thank you, Princess hottie,” I said before rising and taking Alina’s hand. It was so soft and warm. I leaned against her a little as we walked.
Alina nodded at our hands, “You don’t uh… I mean, you can if you want but… I’m not a guy…” She mumbled. Aw such a cute stutter.
“Do you only take people’s arms when they’re male? Personally, I need the balance help.” I laughed. It’d be a shame if I could only hold her hand if she was male. It was a wonderful hand.  
“I mean, it’s not… Never mind. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” Alina replied.
“Also I’m very aware that you are not a guy, you are the sexy, cutie, hot, badass, and above all 100% glorious Princess Alina Schreave.” I flirted before looking up at her and smiling while we walked.
Again I got to hear Alina’s amazing laugh, “I guess so, something like that.”
“Yup, not even something like that. You are exactly as I have described Princess. The very best.” I clarified.
Alina rolled her eyes, “You’re wasted.”
“But people tell the truth when they’re wasted, so you know what I’m saying is 100% accurate,” I argued.
One last time I got to hear Alina’s laugh, “Well… this is it. Your room.” She said. No, I would have to leave now. Part ways with the amazing cute button.
“Are you sure? I could have sworn it was much further than this.” I asked and pouted a little. Then I turned to face her. She wasn’t wrong it said my name on the plate.
“ well, I suppose it is. Goodnight princess cutie.” I added then leaned up and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.
“sleep well!” I add then closed the door to my room before she could reply.
I walked over to my desk, pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a note.
To Do:
Make Alina flower crown.
Make Alina flower.
Alina.
Fiona you’re fucked as hell.
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heartslogos · 8 years
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send the morning [13]
“Listen, Trevelyan, I don’t care how important your hand is to the state of the world; the next time you send me to a fucking bog I’m going to beat you with it,” Adaar says, wiping a hand across her face and smearing off some mud. “That being said, I brought you a present and you can’t return it because your cousin and Cadash got attached to it.”
“Thanks?” Evelyn says, and before Evelyn can ask what it is she starts to gag - “What is that smell?”
“Your present,” Adaar deadpans.
“Evelyn, please, I’m your favorite cousin,” Maxwell says, holding onto the reigns of what looks like some sort of - Evelyn isn’t sure. A four legged animal of the equine variety with a sword sticking out through its head. “Please, please convince the Inquisition leaders to let me have it. Please, I’ll never ask for anything again in my life.”
“The last letter you sent me while you were away you asked me if I would give you half my breakfast rolls for a week,” Evelyn points out.
“Aside from that, never again!”
“Don’t give in to nepotism, Herald,” Cadash says, holding onto the other side of the reigns, “I’ve always wanted a pony. Please.”
“What would you even do with a horse, Malika? You can’t get on one,” Maxwell says and Cadash scoffs.
“Well - aren’t you a noble? Can’t you just buy your own horse?”
“Oh, Malika, you know that’s not how it works. That would imply that someone actually acknowledges me as their child and that isn’t happening anytime this age.”
“Well - act like one and maybe they will! What about chivalry? Women and the younger ones before you!”
“The world chivalry implies ownership of a horse, which I do not have,” Maxwell returns before turning back to Evelyn, “Please.”
“What is that?” Evelyn gapes, “And did a fly just - fly out of its eye socket?”
“It’s part of its charm,” Cadash and Maxwell say.
“It’s a bog unicorn,” Adaar answers sounding entirely too pleased with the situation. “Named by Malika and Maxwell for the fact that we fished it - fished it, Trevelyan, fished it - out of a bog and it has a sword that looks a lot like a horn. Seriously. If you ever suggest to the Inquisition heads that I go to any sort of swamp, bog, mire, or other place again there will be repercussions. Do you understand me, Trevelyan? Repercussions.”
“Maybe we should, er, let the bog unicorn decide,” Evelyn says, “I’ve read that quite often the - uh. Horse. The horse chooses its rider. Right. I’m going to go report this back to Josephine and ask if someone can spare some soap to get you a bath. Baths. I think you might need more than one.”
-
“For fuck’s sake - we don’t have time for - Ellana how did you get here?” Herah grabs Ellana’s arm and snarls under her breath when she finds that Ellana is in one of those strange moments - for the lack of a better word - when she weights at least a ton or more and refuses to be moved. “Fucking - Ellana this isn’t the time for you to be stubborn and unreasonable. Shit, shit, shit.”
Herah moves to block Ellana from being hit by an arrow but Ellana’s hand suddenly flies up and snatches the arrow, breaking the shaft.
Ellana snarls, a feral sound that raises the hair on the back of Herah’s neck, and pulls her arm out of Herah’s grasp.
She has heard Ellana snarl and make all sorts of noises before, but not like that one.
Ellana proceeds to stomp forward, through the fighting, and raises her arm and throws a warden that gets too close to her across the fortress floor.
Herah follows after her.
“I don’t have enough curse words for this,” Herah says, adjusting her grip on her daggers as she does her level best to keep Ellana safe.
“What the hell is this?” Herah turns and Blackwall has his shield raised over Ellana, Herah breathes a sigh of relief.
“I don’t know, I turned around and she was there.”
“Girl this isn’t the time for you to be you,” Blackwall yells and Ellana rolls her shoulders, muscles flexing as she continues to stalk through the fortress - seemingly oblivious to the fighting around her. “Where’s her brother?”
“Ramparts,” Herah answers and yells as Ellana flings herself onto a wall and starts to climb up. “Ellana! Get back down here! How the fuck is she even doing that?”
“Back,” Blackwall bellows, knocking into Herah in time to save her from getting an arrow to the face. “We can’t worry about her now, we’re up to our necks in Wardens and demons. She’s strange - one of ours will get to her eventually. Move Adaar.”
-
“Dennet? Are you in? I’m going to be taking out the Hang-Tooth - “
“Might want to run that by the little miss first, Inquisitor,” Dennet replies, head sticking out of the Courser’s stall. “She may have a better suggestion.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows raise, “I didn’t realize that you didn’t have the run of the stables anymore, Master Dennet. The little miss?”
Dennet’s arm sticks out and points in the direction of the hay stacks.
Evelyn’s eyebrows raise higher. “Is this where you’ve been hiding, Ellana?”
Ellana’s leg lazily kicks off of the pile of hay as she hums to herself, braiding together some grass and flowers. Evelyn smiles walking towards her. Ellana hums, hair spread out behind her.
“I thought you avoided this place since Blackwall took up here,” Evelyn says, “Or is this because he’s out right now?”
Ellana smiles.
“May I use the Hang-Tooth?” Evelyn asks.
Ellana frowns. Evelyn blinks. Ellana shakes her head.
“No?”
Ellana sits up and slides off the haystack, waving a hand for Evelyn to follow. Evelyn follows, more out of surprise than anything.
Ignoring the fact that she’s been made Inquisitor - Evelyn figures it doesn’t really mean much. - and that Ellana is her friend - or at least, Evelyn likes to think so - she didn’t really expect to be denied the use of her own mount.
Ellana stops in front of the stall with the Green Dales Feral and pats the door. The horse comes over, nosing at Ellana’s cheek before turning to look at Evelyn.
“Uh. This one?” Evelyn points at the Feral, who starts to lip at her finger, gently.
Ellana nods, reaching into the feed bucket and taking a bite of an apple.
“So - not the Hang-Tooth. I’m going to the Approach, you know,” Evelyn says, stroking the Feral’s nose.
Ellana shakes her head, then holds out the apple to the next stall over. The Imperial Warmblood reaches out and takes the apple from her fingers.
“Alright,” Evelyn says, “I trust you. I’m hoping that you have a reason, and I wish you’d tell me.” Evelyn pauses here. Ellana remains perfectly mum. “But I trust you anyway. The Green Dales Feral it is, then. Would you like to go for a ride, Dalia? It will be rather hot, but I suspect that you’ll quite enjoy the trip there. Everyone does until they get to the sand.”
Ellana hums, pleased, then goes to climb over the stall wall of the Tirashan Swiftwind.
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