#house lyrielle

[fragileheartbeats]

Create another valyrian household that escaped Valyria. They hid themselves away by magic on an island not visible to anyone, they don't wish to be seen. On an island with a huge fortress accompanied with another smaller fortress which is basically a library. They are similar to Targaryens, but much more knowledgeable on everything (thanks to Valyria). They ride dragons, purple shades of eyes, silver-gold hair. Only two differences being, they have never been married outside of family(yuck) with no Westerosi blood therefore very different customs, fully valyrian customs and traditions rather than Westerosi+valyrian(Targs, Vels). Hope you have fun, thank you:)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘈 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

─ 𝘈 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐

In the rich tapestry of Valyrian history, woven with the threads of power, magic, and dragonfire, the House Lyrielle stands as a testament to the enduring grace and wisdom of Old Valyria. Their story is a whisper on the wind, a secret melody sung by the waves that surround their hidden island sanctuary. Known to but a few, the Lyrielles are the guardians of a legacy untainted by the ambition and corruption that led to the Doom. The sigil of House Lyrielle is as enigmatic as the house itself—an angelic dragon, graceful and serene, enwreathed in a ring of white roses against a backdrop of deepest emerald. The dragon, smaller in stature but fierce in its intelligence and agility, represents the nature of the Lyrielles' own dragons. The emerald ground symbolizes their secluded island, a jewel hidden in the vast sea, and the white roses signify the purity of their intentions and the mystical barriers that veil their home from the unwary eye. Their words, "Beyond Sight, Within Light," speak to the heart of the House Lyrielle ethos. They live beyond the sight of the known world, in a realm of their own making, where knowledge and virtue shine brighter than any Valyrian steel. These words are a promise of their commitment to the greater good, a reminder of their hidden presence guiding the fate of the world from the shadows. The Lyrielles, in their seclusion, have preserved the purity of their Valyrian bloodline, untouched by Westerosi influence. Their customs and traditions remain a living tapestry of Old Valyria's glory, a culture preserved in amber amidst the tumultuous seas of change. Education and learning are held in the highest regard. The smaller fortress, known as the Lyceum of Light, houses a vast collection of scrolls and tomes, not only on magic and dragonlore but on the sciences, arts, and philosophies of the wider world. Even though the Lyrielles seclude themselves from the outside, they possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge that keeps their minds as sharp as their swords. The Lyrielles are ethereal in their beauty, with eyes that hold the mysteries of the universe—shades of purple that shift with the light. Their silver-gold hair flows like liquid moonlight, a hallmark of their Valyrian bloodline. They are skilled in the art of healing, their touch capable of mending wounds that would confound even the most learned maesters. Their bond with their dragons is profound, rooted in a deep understanding and respect for these majestic creatures.

Their dragons, lithe and swift, mirror their masters in both appearance and temperament. With scales that catch the moon's light, casting reflections in hues of amethyst and sapphire, they are specters of the night sky, their presence felt rather than seen, their agility unmatched by any creature, mythical or otherwise. To the Lyrielles, the world outside is a place of beauty marred by the scars of greed and violence. They see themselves as custodians of what remains pure and true. Their philosophy is one of balance and harmony, seeking to preserve the natural world and its wonders. They are benevolent, yet their kindness is not a weakness but a strength, fortified by their unwavering sense of justice and fairness.

The Lyrielles embody a paradox. They are both guardians and isolationists, wielding their power to protect the natural world and its untold secrets while shunning the very societies they seek to preserve from afar. Their personalities are marked by a gentle demeanor, an innate grace that belies the strength and wisdom that centuries of unbroken tradition have instilled in them. They are the custodians of healing, their knowledge of the arcane arts allowing them to mend wounds and cure maladies thought beyond the reach of mortal hands. Yet, for all their power and knowledge, the Lyrielles possess a naivety born of their seclusion. They view the outside world through the lens of caution and fear, tales of its dangers passed down through generations. This isolation has fostered a deep sense of kinship and loyalty among them, their bonds unbreakable, their trust in one another absolute. In a realm where the quest for power often leads to ruin, House Lyrielle remains a beacon of hope. They are the whisper in the heart of the storm, the unseen hand that guides towards light. Their existence is a testament to the belief that even in the darkest of times, there are those who shine brightly, not for glory or fame, but for the love of all that is good and true in the world.

My other original house:

House Celestyr

House Valysar

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

Hmmm trying to think which part of House Baenre Minthara and Lyriel/Coronach were born into. There's a couple siblings of Quenthal that might work but also I could just make something up since it's fic.

Maybe Sos'Umptu, close enough to the top, seemingly loyal, but considered unambitious by everyone, her children (if she has any, which I don't think she does per d&d canon) might have been Quenthal's prospective heirs until the other ones show up. Enough to give Minthara her superiority complex that I love so much beyond being a female Baenre.

Anyway, more to think on

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire and Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        He felt as though he could hear the clanging of blades from the safety of his office. He could certainly hear her shouting at herself whenever she made a mistake through the bond. He wondered who in the hell had thought hearing each other would be a good idea. It had just kept him from signing what documents he had needed to.

        He realized that he could not concentrate, not as he wanted to. Slowly, he made his way to the window. Peering out to see her, standing with his guards. Those that had been told to protect Feyre, to protect Rosehall. He had no idea how she had managed to convince them to allow her to train with them. He didn't know how she had learned when they trained.

        Though they were far from the house, he could still see her rather well. His sight was more advanced than any mere mortal's. He slightly wondered if it was more than a normal Fae's. Did the beast give him additional advantages? It wasn't something he liked to ponder. He would rather keep that side of him locked away. He didn't want anyone knowing that his family had been right.

        He was nothing but a beast.

        Lyriel, however, looked almost god-like as she stood in the middle of the circle. Her undone hair whipping wildly around her face, her eyes staring daggers into one of his men. A dagger in one hand and a sword in the other. He wondered briefly if she had trained to use her blades however she could. Or if she just liked how pointy they were.

        She lunged then, using the dagger to catch the guard off guard. He barely managed to get away, a slight nick appearing on his neck. Lyriel did not stop, her movements a deadly dance. She would block with her dagger or use it to create a distraction while using the sword to attack. Where in the hell had Kallias been hiding this woman? This weapon.

        Surely there was a reason for her brutality, the war that was brewing in her pine eyes. Her past was a mystery to him.

        He wanted it to remain so.

        Still, there was beauty in her destruction. He noticed how she breathed as she moved. Exhaling with a lunge, keeping her spine straighter than the sword she held in her hand. He wondered what it would take for her to break. Would he even want to see that?

        The guard managed to land a blow, his blade slicing into her left bicep.

        A growl began to form in Tamlin's stomach, his body reacting to the idea of another man harming the one person that he was meant to protect. He shoved it down. As far down as he possibly could. Yet, the slightest sound escaped him. At least it hadn't been a roar.

        He had no way of explaining that. A growl at least could have been his displeasure at the woman going against his instruction.

        "Tam." 

        The voice made him start. How in the hell had he missed them coming into the office? How long had they been watching him? His focus on Lyriel was far too distracting.

        Tamlin turned then, his green eyes narrowing as he looked over at Lucien. His friend was trying to hide a smirk. Trying and failing. And humans thought that the Fae were a tricky bunch. They were just assholes who could barely hide their amusement. Especially when it came to those they cared for.

        "Yes, Lucien?" He questioned, moving to sit back at his desk. The picture of the High Lord that everyone wanted to see. Just not what he had thought it would be.

        "We've received word from Cariaru," he stated casually as he moved to sit in the chair across from Tamlin. His legs went over the side, his metal eye roaming around the room as though he were looking for secrets. For the truths that Tamlin was hiding from everyone.

        "And?" Tamlin set up just a bit. His eyes lighting with a hint of excitement. Cariaru had been their insight into the Night Court ever since they had been freed from Under the Mountain. Her mate was one of Rhysand's inner circle. It had been an opening that they had all deemed somewhat worthy.

        After all, her mate did not seem interested in anyone but Rhysand's blonde cousin.

        "Rhys hasn't said a word about Feyre," Lucien casually looked towards the window, his metal eye stopping there. "But he is reaching out to other Lords. No doubt trying to do something to repair his reputation. Is Lyriel training?"

        "We'll let him be," he sighed softly, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head once. Getting Feyre out of whatever deal the two had made was much more important to him than Rhysand making amends or attempting to. They all knew what Rhys had done. What he was probably going to continue doing if he was given the chance. "Yes, I don't know who in the hell told her when they meet."

        "This is what happens when you steal soldiers. They tend to train." Lucien almost grinned at his friend, a twinkle in his russet eye. "Now, why did you steal her? Don't give me that emissary shit. She's no courtier."

        "That's all this is, Lucien." He did not find it hard to lie to his best friend. He knew that he should. He knew that he should hate himself for not sharing this with someone. But he just couldn't. He couldn't let anyone know about the horrible truth. He didn't want Feyre, most of all, to realize that they would never be a mated pair. They could love each other, they always would, but he would never be the man that was meant for her.

        Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was him being controlling. He didn't know. He didn't really care either. He and Feyre had been through the worst. No one else in this world could possibly understand what they had gone through.

        After all, no one else had stabbed him through the heart before.

        "Of course it is," his friend's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his face. If it were not for the scar on his face, Tamlin was certain that Lucien would have been the one that made people stop and stare. He still did. Just not for the reasons Tamlin wanted. "You were about to jump through the window when I came in. Did someone hurt her?"

        Lucien was too perceptive for his own good. It made Tamlin's stomach hurt. How would he explain this? How in the hell had he been careless enough to let Lucien figure this whole thing out? It didn't seem fair that he was struggling this hard. After everything, it should have been a closed book. The happily ever after should have played out. Instead, it seemed as though life was determined to drag out the difficulties. It seemed as though he was taking blow after blow. 

        "No," he was lying too much. He knew it would start to appear in his scent if he kept this damn thing out. "I'm just annoyed that she ignored me."

        "She's not your soldier, Tam."

        "She's in my court. That should count for something." Shouldn't it?

        "Something tells me that Lye listens to herself and no one else." The grin on his face was enough to make Tamlin's stomach twist in a very unpleasant way. Had something happened between the pair? Or was he just overreacting?

        "Lye?" His eyebrow twitched up slightly. "Since when do you have nicknames for strangers?"

        Lucien shrugged his broad shoulders. "She's not that strange. Besides, if she's going to be here for a while we might as well be friendly."

        The way he said it made Tamlin see red. He knew that Lucien would not do anything if he asked him to. But the thought that his friend might be looking at her at all made him want to kill him. Damn possessiveness. He had thought he was bad enough when it came to Feyre. But this was something new entirely.

        Even when Lucien had tried to kill Feyre, he had not been this upset. Although, that was also before he had fallen in love with the woman. The whole thing was a little convoluted and he didn't like to think of it too much.

        "Not too friendly, Lucien," he tried to sound casual, less tense as he spoke. "I don't need a child running around Rosehall just yet." He wanted to throw up as the words left his mouth. He hoped that his face did not give anything away. 

        "Calm down, Tamlin," he laughed lightly, brushing off whatever mood that his friend may have been in. "You know that I'm not that type of man."

        He shoved down the feelings of anger that were building in him, the feeling of his claws pressing against his fingernails. Keeping them inside hurt him more than he ever could explain. He didn't know why. His beast form had been so close to the surface for years, constantly fighting it back. Fighting to keep it down, keep it repressed. Just like everything.

        The Spring Court was beautiful but that didn't stop demons from plaguing his mind.

        You're yelling, the voice spoke before he had any chance to respond to Lucien. It's not helping my concentration.

        I'm not concerned about your concentration right now.

        You should be. I almost skewered one of your men.

        He tried to keep his face neutral, but one of his brows ticked up just slightly. He played it off by coughing, although he was certain that Lucien was staring at him as though he had just murdered someone in front of him. That or he could see the very voice that was inside of his head.

        Could Lucien do that? He knew the metal eye could see more than they knew, but surely it could not penetrate the mind. But what if? What if Lucien was drawing this out? What if he knew all along about this whole situation but had kept it to himself?

        "Send word to Cariaru," he coughed once more, trying to hide the tension in his voice. "I want more info on Rhysand's movements. Tell her to keep up with that shadowsinger as well. We haven't heard shit about him since she left us."         

        It frustrated him that they knew next to nothing about those in Rhysand's court. They knew his two cronies, Azriel and Cassian, but they didn't know enough. Not about their movements. Not about their plans. If this girl was the one way they could get that information, he would use her for all that she was worth. He just hoped they could bring her home before she wound up getting caught.

        Even she would not be able to hide from her mate forever.

        "She might be unwilling to give us any information about him," Lucien spoke gently, the truth of it was it might be more dangerous to spy on Azriel than it was to spy on Rhysand.

        "She'll do it. For the Spring Court," he said with a slight nod of his head. Even if he knew that he was potentially sending her to her death. He had faith in the girl. He knew she wouldn't get in over her head. At least, he hoped that she wouldn't.

        His conscious couldn't take any more failures.

        "I'll send word," Lucien moved to stand, his eyes roving to the window again. "Lyriel seems capable."

        Lucien turned on his heel and slipped out of the room without being dismissed. Tamlin wondered if he did that just to be annoying or if he had more pressing matters to attend to. Keeping an eye on their spy was somewhat important after all. Even if he did not think it should be the most important thing in the world right now.

        After all, he was in his own personal hell and no one seemed to notice. Well, no one but the woman who seemed to be in his mind. He had always thought he would never have to deal with that part of a bond. His parents had certainly never acted as though they could hear each other.

        It had to be another curse from the Mother. This whole thing seemed to be designed as a hell for Tamlin Rosehall. It made him sick to know that he had no chance of figuring any of this out. If he did, maybe he wouldn't be so pissed about the whole situation.

        Tamlin tried to focus on his correspondence once more, his eyes blurring as the words poured from his pen. Words weren't easy to come by. He'd been good at lewd poetry, but that had never translated to giving the other Lords updates about the Spring Court. Nor was he good at telling anyone he needed anything. There was a lot he would rather keep to himself. His dealings in his Court was one thing he wanted to keep to himself.

        He didn't need anyone knowing that he was still trying like hell to rebuild. Didn't want them to know that he was struggling to keep the people's faith in him.

        The only thing that kept the faith anymore was Feyre. It was another reason why he had to keep her safe, keep her protected. If he lost her he would lose himself. And the support of his people.

        It made him sick just to think of it.

        He blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on the words that had bled through the pages. When he didn't focus, he often forgot his own strength. When he allowed himself to fall into his thoughts he often forgot that he was stronger than most. That he needed to focus just to keep from breaking everything. Tamlin hated this. Hated being so different from everyone.

        It was a far cry from the life he had once dreamed of. He would never get to play the fiddle in a traveling band. But perhaps he would be able to play more often now. Things were calming down. Although, he was certain that Hybern would not allow the slaying of their greatest general to go unpunished.

        He supposed it was luck that the fae were so slow to change, to revenge. There was more time to plan, more time to figure out how to keep his people safe. Even if just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach.

        A soft grunt brought him out of his thoughts. The scent of evergreen, frozen berries, and blood filled the room, making something within him roar with the need to protect, to hold. To do something that would risk everything that he had built. He had to stifle that voice, had to shove it as far down as he possibly could. If only to keep his Court from falling into shambles.

        "How did you find out about training?" Tamlin questioned without looking up from his letters.

        "I just stuck around the barracks." She slid into the seat that Lucien had been in only an hour before. "Your general seemed amused to see a woman fighting."

        He looked up at her then, taking in her hair that was windswept. He could see the tangles, the small braids at her temple to keep some of it back. Her brow was dotted with sweat, her pulse beating rapidly enough to make him shift in his seat. There were purple bags underneath her eyes, she looked at though she had not slept. Despite this, her eyes were bright. The joy was something he had not seen from her before. Something he doubted he would see many times in their lives. The cut on her bicep had healed, nothing but a pink line on her snow-like skin.

        She did, however, have another cut on her left cheek that was still freely bleeding.

        Tamlin wanted to find the man who had done it to her. He wanted to find him and rip him limb from limb. How dare he lay a single finger on Lyriel? How dare anyone touch her without his express permission? Even if he would never give it to anyone.

        "You shouldn't be fighting," he repeated his words from the night before. "How long were you at the barracks?"

        "As soon as you left me last night." Lyriel shrugged her shoulders casually as she relaxed in the chair. "I doubted anyone would go against your wishes."

        "Yet you did."

        "You're not my High Lord," she pointed out with a quirk of her lips. "Besides, I thought I might keep things interesting between us. It'll help keep us from ... Accepting things."

        He could tell that she felt awkward just speaking those words. He knew that he felt the same way. He didn't want to deal with the beast inside of him but neither did he wish to deal with the thought of Lyriel. He would pick the beast over her any day.

        "You're still a guest in my Court," he pointed out with a sigh. Tamlin wondered if that meant anything to her. "That does mean you need to act with a bit of decorum. Or respect."

        It was the way that she shrugged her shoulders that made the smile burst from his lips. She had an air that he didn't know if he liked or not, but it was definitely amusing. More than it should have been.

        "Honestly, you can't expect me to change myself. You're marrying someone else, I'm going back to the Winter Court soon enough. I don't see any of this going the way it's supposed to." Her words were far less amusing than her actions.

        "How is supposed to go?" He prayed to the Mother she didn't say a damn word about his wedding. How could that be wrong? He and Feyre belonged together. The curse wouldn't have broken otherwise.

        "According to the Mother and the Cauldron and whoever else decided to fuck us," Lyriel began to play with one of the daggers that lined her body. He briefly wondered how many she had. "We're supposed to be the ones that are ... Involved." Her brow furrowed as she spoke, forming a crease between what he assumed would have been her eyebrows. They were so light that he wondered if they had ever grown.

        Had Kallias faced this same issue? Why was he focused so much on her eyebrows? The imperfection of them reminded him that she was real. Not just a figment of his imagination. 

        "You do know you can use the proper words, right?" Tamlin looked away from the crease and her not-there eyebrows. He looked instead into her eyes. The green that was a weird mix of light and dark. Iced over and yet fierce enough to burn him if she tried to do so.

        "That makes it far too real." Lyriel shifted once in her seat, the scent of blood becoming stronger as she moved.

        His stomach lurched with the urge to protect her, to bind her wound and make damn sure that no one would ever get that close to her again. Even if he knew that it was stupid. They were not going to do anything of the sort. Risking what he had built was not his intention. He knew that Lyriel was not worth it. Even if she was a high-ranking member of the Winter Court, no one could beat Feyre.

        Feyre's light shone brighter than any of theirs. He knew that she would outshine all of them for the rest of her life. He just hoped that he would get to be the one to stand beside her.

        He would be. He didn't care what he had to do to make sure of it.

        "What do you expect me to do, Lyriel?" Tamlin sighed softly as he looked away from her, not daring to show her how much he was contemplating his decisions. Or how much he wasn't. "Throw the Cursebreaker away? I can't do that."

        "Because you love her or because your Court needs her?" She knew how to cut him to the core. He wondered if she did this with everyone or if it was just because of the bond they were supposed to share.

        "Both," he would not lie about this. There was no reason. "She sacrificed herself to save me. Surely you understand that."

        "I do." The way she said it made him think that she did not. "I just don't quite understand why I'm here."

        "A show of good faith?" Tamlin did not believe his own words for a moment. "Kallias wouldn't have been pleased if the Winter Court had been excluded from the festivities."

        "He wouldn't have given a shit." 

        "Have you spoken to him?" If she had, maybe there was more use in having her stick around.

        She shifted once more, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "My Lord may give us orders from time to time but that doesn't mean I speak to him."

        So that was out of the question. What good was she if she could not even guarantee him the Winter Courts favor? Why did he need her around? He didn't know the answer to his questions. But he knew that he could not just throw her away. Not until he figured out how to rid himself of this bond. For good.

        "Go clean yourself, Lyriel." He did not watch as she slipped out of the room. He didn't want to see her leave.

[litzing]

The Crown of God

Do you like demons? Demons with antlers? What about morally corrupt angels? Well friend, you’ve come to the right place. The Crown of God is a short story (by me!) about what happens when the good guy turns out to be the bad guy. Hope you love it!

Title: The Crown of God

Author: @litzing​

Word Count: 2213

I’m the only creature in the world that can hide from God. God’s successor, I mean. His watchful eye sees all, knows all—but with the Crown of God in my possession, I’m invisible. And He is not happy.

“Elvis, darling...”

I clutch the Crown to my chest, one hand clamped over my mouth to stifle myself, as I cower behind a pillar in His magnificent palace. A golden light passes behind me, and I hold my breath.

“Elvis!”

His booming, layered voice is earth-shattering, but the Crown keeps my eardrums from exploding. I’m not an emotional man, never was, but even I am afraid, tears pricking my eyes as I wait for Him to move on. After an eternity, the light fades as He searches further down the corridor, and when I’m sure He’s gone, I bolt.

I skid around a corner. At the end of the hall, I can see the intricate, wrought-iron gates leading to the pits of Hell, wide open, and I know what I’m going to do. I creep towards the gates, hugging the wall so I can duck behind a pillar if need be. The Crown hums in my arms, searing hot, yet it doesn’t burn my hands to the bone.

“Elllviiis...”

The voice is close. I freeze and flatten myself against a pillar, but I’m too late. A brilliant light blooms in the corridor behind me, and the pillar explodes, the blast sending me flying towards the gates in a shower of marble. I hit the ground hard, and the Crown tumbles from my arms and clatters to the floor. I groan, supporting myself on weak arms, then scramble to grab the Crown before He can get to it first. I shouldn’t, but I raise my eyes.

Lyriel—God, as He’s called these days—seems smug as His countless eyes wink at me one by one, His six wings growing still as He alights on the polished marble floor. I’m amazed that I can gaze upon His angelic form without my eyes melting. In a flash of luminous light, He looks almost human, save for having a few too many eyes and a few too many teeth. The small wings sprouting from the sides of His head flutter and flex. He’s beautiful, in the otherworldly way that angels are, with golden brown skin and long blond hair so fine it slips through His fingers when He flips it over His shoulder.

“Oh, holy, holy, holy! Elvis, dear, is that you? It’s been so long,” Lyriel says, spreading His arms wide in a grand gesture. “How have you been? Well, I hope!”

I struggle to stand, but my legs aren’t cooperating just yet. I smashed my hip on the floor when the explosion launched me down the hall.

“No greeting? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? Oh, I apologize—Of course she didn’t.” He approaches, His bare feet silent on the marble. “She only taught you thievery. You stole her life just like you stole my crown.”

I’m as good as dead if I don’t get on my feet, and with adrenaline coursing through my veins, I stand. My hip throbs, but still, I stand. Lyriel stops when I do, half of His eyes flicking to the Crown while the rest watch me closely.

“That crown is mine, Elvis.”

“Fuck you.”

He’s unfazed. “You dare speak such words to the Lord, your God? My, my.”

“Why do you want it so bad, anyway?” I ask, shifting my weight to ease the pain in my hip. “You’re already God. You don’t need the Crown too, Lyriel—“

“You will no longer refer to me by that name,” He snaps. His tone is forceful.

“Struck a nerve, Ly?” I ask, inching backwards towards the gates.

He scowls. “To answer your question, I want it because it’s mine. How would you feel if I came into your house and took your things?”

“So it’s not important? Just another artifact you’re hoarding?”

“Precisely.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I...”

I raise the Crown, and I’m about to place it on my head, nestled between my antlers, when Lyriel cries out in protest, an ancient, long-dead language. I arch an eyebrow.

“Thou shalt not lie.”

“The rules of mortals do not apply to the divine, Elvis!” He’s frantic, teeth clenched, hands curled into fists as His wings shiver with rage. I’ve ruffled His feathers. Lyriel calms Himself, and He exhales. “Fine. What is it you want from me? Power? Oh, I could give you so much power. Or do you want money? It’s funny how mortals worship papers and coins these days. Or maybe...” There’s a gleam in His eyes. “... Maybe you want to be human.”

I blink and lower the Crown. Human? Could He do that?

“Poor Elvis. One foot in Heaven and the other in Hell. An ugly half-breed. What’s that like? Tough, isn’t it? Humans fear you and demons hate you. It must be so sad to be you. But I can help you! I can grant you new life.” He steps forward. I step backward, wincing when my hip strains. “Wouldn’t it be nice, Elvis? Wouldn’t you love being human? Being normal?”

It’s enticing. I’ve had dreams about waking up human, waking up normal. No more depression. Sometimes I’m even handsome—No antlers, no red eyes, no fangs. Less gangling. I hate that I can count my prominent ribs in the mirror every morning.

I avert my eyes.

“Oh, is that your weakness?” He takes a few more steps towards me, and I back up in time. “You want to be human. I can see it in your eyes, Elvis.” He taps His temple. “I see all.”

I cast a fleeting glance behind me. I’m in front of the gates, and just beyond, I can see the pits of Hell giving off a faint orange glow, fueled by fire and brimstone. Hellfire is the only thing that can destroy the Crown of God. Lyriel knows that. But does He know that I know?

Lyriel extends His hand towards me.

“Give me the Crown,” He demands, “and I’ll make you human. It’s more than a fair trade.”

I think about it. I really do. I’d give up almost anything to be human, handsome, happy. Could I give up a planet? Could I hand over the reins of the Earth to this maniac? I know Him, and I know what He’s capable of, just like I know that He’ll stop at nothing to get the Crown back. Once it’s out of my hands, He’ll smite me—

But it was out of my hands. And He knew it was.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

His smug smirk fades. “What? When?”

“I dropped the Crown when you broke the pillar. You could have killed me. Why didn’t you?”

His lip curls back in a sneer, exposing razor sharp fangs. He doesn’t speak. My eyes dart from Lyriel to the Crown and back again, and I furrow my brow. My brain is cycling through legends, tales of the Crown of God. I’ve studied the legends. I grew up with them. Is there something I’m missing? There has to be. Why wouldn’t He smite me? I had dropped the Crown. We talk about God being all powerful, but in reality, His powers are finite. Not a lot of people know that He makes up for His shortcomings with spells and artifacts like… Like the Crown.

“... Because you couldn’t.” I’m incredulous. How did I miss that? Of course He wants it back. He’s not God without it. “God can’t smite without his crown.”

Lyriel is furious, and with a banshee screech, He’s in His seraph form, with six wings and so, so many eyes. He’s bright, bright like the sun, and I’d be blinded if I didn’t have the Crown. He launches towards me, His wings beating at the air, so powerful they kick up a gust in the hallway. Fear surges through my veins, and when people are afraid, they don’t think. They act.

I put the Crown on my head.

It’s very unceremonious, becoming God. I feel warm. I feel energized. Healthy—my hip no longer aches and my mind is at ease. I look down at my hands, and as I watch electricity crackle between my spread fingers, I think... Is this what it’s like? Is this what it’s like to be God? I may not have the rest of God’s abilities like Lyriel does, but I’m still the second most powerful creature in the universe.

I’m about to be the first.

I turn my attention to Lyriel. He halts right in front of me, wings folding inward in a show of cowardice. He’s afraid. Terrified. I can sense it. He shifts into His more human form to parlay.

“Elvis, dear...”

“Don’t.”

“You wouldn’t want to live in a godless world, would you?” His voice is saccharine, like He’s coaxing someone off the ledge. “There would be chaos! Can you imagine a world without order? The humans, they’ll kill their planet. They already are. They’re facing extinction! Just give me the Crown—”

“No, I don’t think I will.” I lift my hand. “Burn in Hell, Lyriel.”

The air warps between us, churning like water. Desperate, Lyriel launches into a chant, a spell, in a tongue forgotten by time. But before He can finish—and He tries, oh, He tries—there is a burst of energy from my hand, knocking Him off His feet.

And when He hits the ground, He crumbles into dust.

I drop my hand and allow myself a moment of peace. I let myself enjoy being the most powerful creature in the entire universe for a minute, then reach up to take off the Crown. Once my fingers brush the hot metal, I hesitate. I could do great things with this power. Great things, but also horrible things. Power corrupts. Lyriel proved that through His own hubris. I don’t trust myself to not turn out the same way, so I sweep off the Crown and sigh, exhausted now that I’m no longer a god. I stare at the Crown for a second, holding it up in both hands. It’s a very simple crown. Unassuming. I was expecting something ostentatious. This is just a gold circlet.

I turn around and make my way through the gates. I stand on the edge of the pits of Hell. The pit is gargantuan in diameter, and it goes so deep I can’t see the bottom, but it glows orange with hellfire and radiates an unbearable heat. The Crown vibrates in my hands like it’s afraid, tempting me. I could do it. I could be God. But would I want to be? Could I handle that responsibility? Or would the Earth roll off my shoulders and shatter like glass? I’m no Atlas—And maybe it’s a good thing I’m realizing that now. We all think we want to rule the world, but when presented with the option... How many of us would be brave enough to carry the lives of billions? Beyond that, how many of us would be any good at it?

I need time to think. Is any mortal fit to be God? Should there be a God at all? The implications are dire. What would happen in a world without God? Would Lucifer rise? Would the world exist at all? I could be about to tear the fabric of the universe, but I can say with the utmost confidence that a world without God would be much better than a world ruled by Lyriel. Do you know what makes an angel an angel, and a demon a demon? Nothing. They’re the same. The only difference is who they serve. Lyriel may have been called an angel, but He had an evil heart.

I lower the Crown and gaze down at the hellfire. If the Crown didn’t act as a shield against divine forces, I’m certain the heat would singe my eyebrows off—and that’s because I’m part demon. A human might be dead by now. I can’t imagine how hot it must be further down.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out. It’s crazy that I have service up here. My dear friend Monica is calling because I’m a little late for our coffee date. I swipe to pick up the call and raise the phone to my ear.

“Aloha?”

“Hey Elvis! Did you go to the wrong café again?”

“Not exactly.” I watch the Crown glimmer and shine in the orange light. “Sorry I’m running late. Had to deal with some shit.”

“Is something wrong? Where are you now?”

I don’t know how to reply, so I don’t. What do I tell her? Do I tell her I killed God? Or that I might become God? There’s a lot to explain. There are layers.

After a short pause, Monica prompts, “Elvis? Hello?”

I sigh. “I’m here. I, uh—”

“You’re acting weird. For real, what’s wrong? Are you in jail? Who died?”

“No, no, Monica, it’s nothing like that. It...”

I give the Crown one long, final look. Then I toss it in the pits of Hell, and I walk away.

“... It’s kind of a funny story.”

[theimperialists]

Symphony of Silvermoon - Synopsis

Prelude

Zalerian Bloodreign discovers a possible heir to the Sunstrider dynasty and begins to research the matter

Elanya Skyborne vocalizes her disagreement with the direction of Quel’Thalas and gains a following who call themselves Reformers

Elanya is exiled from Silvermoon for speaking out against the state

Erilihn Autumnsong, a long-time friend of Elanya’s, becomes her surrogate for the movement

In a private conversation, Erilihn admits she is a Reformer to Tendael Dawnlight II, who has her arrested and brought to the Hall of Blood

A policing order of blood knights known as the Blood Watch tortures Erilihn and temporarily brands her before releasing her, hoping she’s learned her lesson

Erilihn’s torture sparks outrage among some citizens of Silvermoon

Part 1

The Solidarity Festival, an event celebrating the union of the blood elves and the rest of the Horde, is held in the Royal Exchange district of Silvermoon

During the festival, Ambassador Lem of the Undercity is shot with a poisoned arrow

Ambassador Lem turns feral and attacks a citizen, forcing the guards to cut him down

The city is briefly put under martial law while the Blood Watch restores order

It is later discovered that during the commotion, the Crown of Anasterian was stolen from the Reliquary

Later in the evening, a fencing contest is held and Dorlazuria is named champion

Loyalists, Reformers, Imperialists, and Purists go about their own agendas, each making progress (this will not be included in the synopsis due to IC secrecy - ask your faction leaders for a faction synopsis)

Tensions mount as propaganda posters spring up all over Silvermoon, most condemning other factions or the Blood Watch itself

Elanya sneaks into Silvermoon but is caught and arrested by the Blood Watch

The Reformers protest Elanya’s capture, but the protest is interrupted when news arrives of an Amani raid on Farstrider Retreat

The raid on Farstrider Retreat is put down and the Amani are either killed or captured

An investigation begins to determine why the Amani attacked, Dallos Hasten begins searching for evidence

High elf infiltrators sneak into Silvermoon and try to rescue Elanya, but the rescue fails and Elanya is killed as a result by Arrodis Lightfury

Outraged by the killing of Elanya, Arrodis is subdued by fellow blood knight Ellasha Truefeather, Telchis Truefeather, and Erilihn who happened to be present at the time

Thanidiel Highdawn, a Knight-Commander of the Blood Watch, announces her resignation

A number of other blood knights resign from the Blood Watch in suit

The State of Silvermoon later announces the reorganization of the Blood Watch, replacing Arrodis with Koyasha Mace and promoting Ellasha to Knight-Commander

Imperialist sympathizers start making appearances in public, praising the leadership of the Sunstriders

Rumors spread of the return of a Sunstrider heir

One Imperialist sympathizer named Lyriel Astralblade is arrested by the Blood Watch

An Imperialist witch-hunt begins and Sanarissa Firewing is discovered to be the leader of the group

Sanarissa is subsequently exiled from Silvermoon, but there are still unidentified Imperialists remaining in the city

Part 2

During the Grand Bazaar, a market festival in Silvermoon, a woman named Catriah Phoenixhearth goes missing

Also during the Grand Bazaar, the Hall of Blood is attacked with an investigation pending on who is responsible

Strange happenings are reported to take place throughout the city

It is discovered that the Crown of Anasterian somehow ended up in the hands of the Imperialists who in turn coronated their new king: Eldin’arcus Sunstrider

The Imperialists seize Sunstrider Isle and Eldin makes the Sunspire his seat of power

Eldin makes his first decree as self-appointed king, demanding Lor’themar Theron relinquish the throne

The State of Silvermoon declares the Imperialists to be a threat to the kingdom and declare war

Catriah is found sleeping on a bench near Stillwhisper Pond unharmed

Sanarissa, for reasons unknown, turns herself in and is arrested by the Blood Watch

While Sanarissa is kidnapped, Imperialists sneak into the Magister’s Athenaeum, capturing Vallus Sunsong and stealing other classified documents

An enormous necropolis appears over Deatholme and begins moving north at a slow pace

Sanarissa escapes from prison

Pyreen Lightwhisper, a Loyalist, is captured by Imperialists

Selestra Rosevale, defacto Loyalist leader in Vallus’ absence, leads a contingent of forces from Silvermoon to reclaim Sunstrider Isle from the Imperialists

When Loyalist forces arrive at the bridge to Sunstrider Isle, Sanarissa demands they bend the knee to Eldin, but they refuse

In a demonstration of power, Eldin drops Vallus from the top of the Sunspire, killing him instantly

Loyalists and Imperialists engage in battle and hundreds are slain on both side before Loyalists achieve victory and drive Imperialists off the island

Pyreen is found in a dungeon beneath the Sunspire and rescued

Imperialists sail south from Sunstrider Island and regroup at the ruins of Windrunner Village

Part 3

The Reformers hold a demonstration in Silvermoon

During the demonstration it is revealed that Venithas Bloodstrike, a Magister of Sunfury Spire, was responsible for the creation of the Blood Watch and all the political upheaval

The demonstration evolves into a full-blown riot

Purists use the chaos that ensues in the riot to take control of the Walk of Elders

During the riot, Zalerian attempts to set off mana bombs in Silvermoon City, but he is stopped by Sanarissa and killed

After the riot ends, the four faction leaders convene to discuss the threat of Revoltus, forming a strike team

The Purists reveal they have the blueprints to Revoltus, recovered from the Deatholme Vaults

The Imperialists propose the use of Zalerian’s mana bombs to destroy Revoltus from the inside

Eldin pledges his support to the cause, participating in the strike team

On the eve of battle, Horde reinforcements and a noble of noble houses of Quel’Thalas go to war with the undead forces on the ground while the strike team invades Revoltus

The four factions clear a way to the four corners of necropolis and plant the mana bombs, stopping it completely

The surviving forces in Revoltus defeat the necropolis’ master, causing it to sink into the ocean

The day following the fall of Revoltus, the state pardons all Imperialists, Reformers, and Purists who helped save Quel’Thalas

Eldin and Zalerian are not pardoned, and Eldin is not recognized for his service

An accolade at Sunfury Spire recognizes the heroes of Quel’Thalas

The Magisters condemn Venithas Bloodstrike and execute him for treason

A memorial service is held for the fallen

A number of Imperialists express their discontent at the lack of recognition for Eldin’s sacrifice

[darkwatercomics]

~ Issue # 1 ~ Demon Days, Part 1 Of 7: The Angel Who Fell To Earth ~

PAGE 1, PANEL 1

Full page length panel. Long shot of an angel falling through the night sky, higher than the clouds, the atmosphere above her, her armour glinting in the light of the moon. She’s pulled into herself, bloodied, tumbling to earth.

CAPTION: And so I fell.

CAPTION: As far as only a very few angels had fallen before me.

PAGE 1, PANEL 2

Full page length panel. Overhead shot of her falling toward the clouds, and through the gap between them is a city far below.

CAPTION: Cast out by those closest to me.

CAPTION: Betrayed.

CAPTION: For the simple act of seeking knowledge.

PAGE 2, PANEL 1

Full page length panel. Overhead shot of her falling between the clouds. We can see the streets and rooftops of the city below now, parts of them aflame or smashed apart.

CAPTION: The Original Sin.

CAPTION: Asking too many questions.

CAPTION: Nothing ever changes.

PAGE 2, PANEL 2

Two panels on this vertical tier. In the foreground is a full shot of a figure from behind, mostly in shadow, stood in an alleyway, looking up at the sky above the row of bombed out houses up ahead of him as the angel hurtles toward the ground.

CAPTION: I always thought ‘a fall from grace’ was a metaphorical thing.

CAPTION: Not so.

PAGE 2, PANEL 3

Long shot of the angel crashing through the roof of one of the bombed out houses, with an explosion of rubble and dust.

CAPTION: When you fall.

CAPTION: You fall hard.

PAGE 3, PANEL 1

Page width panel. In the foreground is a head to waist shot from behind of the figure who was stood watching in the alleyway. They are now stood in the ruins of the house’s wall, in the doorway. In the background is the female angel, Lyriel, now crouched atop the rubble of the collapsed roof, recovering, getting her bearings, clearly aware of his presence.

CAPTION: London, 1940

MR SPARROW: You know, for a moment there I thought you were just another bomb. They fall so often these days. It’s been a very long time since I last saw one of your kind fall.

LYRIEL: Then you know it is advisable to walk away now, demon.

PAGE 3, PANEL 2

Page width panel. In the foreground is a full shot of the angel, Lyriel, for that’s who she is, now stood, brushing herself down, half turned toward the figure in the doorway who we now see is demon Spy Master, Mr Sparrow. He’s dressed much as he was in Modern Days, in a Victorian style suit.

MR SPARROW: You will find life here among the mortals very different.

MR SPARROW: I could help facilitate your ...

LYRIEL: And what would you require in return, Spy Master?

MR SPARROW: Myself? Nothing, but my employer …

PAGE 3, PANEL 3

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist semi-profile shot of her half turned toward him with her distain for him clear.

LYRIEL: I am well aware of who your employer is. I am fallen from grace but I am no traitor.

PAGE 3, PANEL 4

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a head and shoulders shot, her focus is now squarely directed toward him.

LYRIEL: And you didn’t answer my question.

PAGE 4, PANEL 1

Two panels on this top tier. Head to chest shot of Mr Sparrow from Lyriel’s P.O.V, staring directly at her, unperturbed.

MR SPARROW: Firstly, Lord Morningstar is no traitor. Secondly, you are an esteemed warrior of the Nephilim. It shouldn’t really be a surprise to you that your skill set is in demand.  

PAGE 4, PANEL 2

Head to waist shot of Mr Sparrow from behind in the foreground, with a full shot of Lyriel now walking toward him.

LYRIEL: You know, it’s been kind of  along night, I just quit one job, so forgive me if I’m not looking to jump right back into the saddle.

MR SPARROW: I rather assumed a fall from grace was equivalent to being fired.

LYRIEL: It was a mutual parting, either way I’m not looking to be hired.

PAGE 4, PANEL 3

SPLASH: In the foreground is a full shot of Lyriel walking away on the left of the panel, with Mr Sparrow stood outside the bombed out house, thoughtfully watching as she goes.

NOTE: I’ve used the lyrics to ‘Summer In The City’ by The Lovin‘ Spoonful. Potential copyright problems but it can be changed.

CAPTION: ‘Hot town, summer in the city …’

LYRIEL: But who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind in a few decades or so.

PAGE 5, PANEL 1

SPLASH: Full shot of Solomon walking along a busy Camden Town street, past people and stalls and shops. He’s carrying his familiar dark grey long coat ( worn by the Irish Garda police force ) the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up with his constantly loose fitting neck tie even looser than normal. It’s clearly a warm day, with the people dressed in summer clothes, some drinking, other moping their brows, some passing on bicycles, others selling their stall wares. In the foreground is an old fashioned FM radio sat on a stall table.

CAPTION: London.

CAPTION: Camden Town.

CAPTION: Present Day.

ARTIST NOTE: The Chapter title is Demon Days: Part 1 Of 7: The Angel Who Fell To Earth, written on a newspaper stand.

The sub title is In which an immortal contemplates the many changes of life, an angel falls to earth and a demon considers his lot.

QUOTE: No one person can live for long without friends, especially those of such long life.

S.F.X: ‘… Back of my neck, getting dirty and gritty. Been down, isn’t it a pity. Doesn’t seem to be  a shadow in the city …’

CAPTION: They say you can almost hear the sizzle of the heat in the air when summer hits the city. I don’t know about that, but I know this, you can certainly feel it.

PAGE 5, PANEL 2

Page width panel. Wide shot of London. Evening. It’s sunny, the city clear and vibrant against a pale blue and pewter sky.

CAPTION: The heat isn’t the only thing stirring up the city though.

PAGE 6, PANEL 1

Half page vertical panel. Full shot of Solomon walking toward Camden Lock entrance at Chalk Farm Road. It’s a busy scene with tourists, stall holders, an ice cream van nearby.

CAPTION: There‘s something else in the air.

CAPTION: Something that‘s been building for months.

CAPTION: Ever since the war ended.

PAGE 6, PANEL 2

Two panels on this vertical tier. Overhead shot of  Solomon in a crowded walkway, between stalls and buildings in the Camden Lock Market. The lyrics for the song sung from off panel.

NOTE: I’ve used the lyrics to ‘Walk On The Wildside’ by Lou Reed. Potential copyright problems but it can always be changed.

GRYF ( O.P ): Holly came from Miami, F.L.A. hitch hiked her way across the U.S.A. Plucked her eyebrows on the way …

PAGE 6, PANEL 3

In the foreground is a head to waist profile shot of Gryf, playing his guitar, looking very much as he always has, mid 50’s in appearance, grey hair in a ponytail, wearing John Lennon style glasses and a blue bandana, white T-Shirt, a denim sleeveless jacket. Behind Solomon is walking toward him.

GRYF: Shaved her legs and then he was a she. She says ‘Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side, said, hey, honey, take a walk …

GRYF: Hey Sol, fine evening, man. Ain’t seen ya for a few weeks.

PAGE 6, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Full shot of them facing each other, Gryf acknowledging him with his hand as he stops singing. They’re stood in front of a permanent stall’s shutters.

SOLOMON: Sorry Gryf, it’s been busy, work’s been through the roof.  

GRYF: Yeah, it’s like ya said, things are pretty strange out there lately. I’ve heard about a lot of spooky shit going down.

SOLOMON: Spooky how?

PAGE 6, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Gryf. Solomon, the café behind him and the evening light reflected in his sunglasses.

GRYF: I dunno, I can’t really put me finger on it. I mean, this is the big smoke, man, so there’s always spooky stuff going on, it’s an old city right. But something about this feels different somehow. Used to be ‘em creepy buggers did their thing but there was always rules. They kept to the shadows, they came out at night, but it feels like it’s changing, like whatever kept things in check ain’t doing it’s job no more.

PAGE 7, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Head to chest shot of Solomon, looking off sideways to their surroundings, thoughtful.

SOLOMON: Yeah, I’ve been hearing some similar things in a lot of places. I’ve got a feeling something big is brewing, Gryf. We need to keep our ear to the ground on this, see if it gets any worse. I know some people who may be able to help.

PAGE 7, PANEL 2

Full profile shot of him and Gryf facing each other on the left of the panel. On the right are their reflections in the window of a café. In the reflection we are reminded Gryf isn’t human, but is a demon with horns on the side of his head.

GRYF: Those the people I think you mean?

SOLOMON: Yeah, but I’m not fond on calling them unless I have to.

GRYF: To be honest, Sol, they kinda creep me out.

PAGE 7, PANEL 3

Overhead shot of them, with a pigeon flying in the foreground.

SOLOMON: So, did you get anything on those magic dealers?

GRYF: Yeah, a few things. Looks like they’ve pissed off a whole bunch of people, stepped on some pretty big toes I reckon, ‘specially in the dark magic circles, so, for once, they were actually kinda helpful, well, helpful as their kind get anyway.

PAGE 7, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Full profile shot of them stood in front of the shutters, which are now bathed in sunlight.

SOLOMON: So what did they give up?

GRYF: Well, they didn’t give up much, secretive buggers ‘em, but they did tell me who the head dealer is, East End, small time, goes by the name of Mank. More precisely where he likes to hang out, I don’t think you’re gonna like it though.

PAGE 7, PANEL 5

Similar shot to panel 1, but a head and shoulders shot of Solomon.

SOLOMON: *Sigh* Okay, I’m sure I can work something out. Papa Midas and I have an understanding. He hasn’t exactly banned me from the place. I doubt he wants dark magic dealers right on his doorstep. It’s bad for business. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want trouble with my current client either, from what I hear they have an understanding too.

PAGE 8, PANEL 1

Two half page panels. Full shot of Mr Sparrow walking along Carnaby Street, above him the arched multicoloured sign. He’s dressed in a modern business suit with an umbrella. The street’s busy, shoppers and pedestrians in summer clothes, above the roofs of the buildings the evening sky.  

NOTE: I’ve used the lyrics to ‘Gimme Shelter’ by The Rolling Stones. Potential copyright problems but it can always be changed.

S.F.X: Oooh, a storm is threatening my very life today. If I don’t get some shelter, ooh yeah, I’m gonna fade away.

CAPTION: Soho. For decades he has lived here. Here, among the mortals.

CAPTION: The surroundings always changing but full of echoes.

PAGE 8, PANEL 2

Similar to panel 1. The centre image is of Mr Sparrow, with other images surrounding him that show ghosts of the street’s past, with no borders and each bleeding into the other. It’s almost like he’s walking through the past, with a head to chest image of Mary Quant and a full shot of the Rolling Stones stood together, with people dressed as Mods, with parked Vespa scooters seen in the bottom right of the panel.

S.F.X: War, children, it’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away. War, children, it’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away.

CAPTION: Its sounds and memories lingering long past their time.

CAPTION: Ghosts of things that will never be again.

CAPTION: Forever ingrained in the very fabric of this place.

PAGE 8, PANEL 3

Three panels on this bottom tier. Full shot of Mr Sparrow from behind, stood outside an open stairwell beside a fashion boutique. The sign over the door reads; Carnaby Records.

S.F.X: Ooh, see the fire is sweepin’ our streets today, burns like a red coal carpet, mad bull lost its way.

CAPTION: But it has never been home.

PAGE 8, PANEL 4

Full profile shot of him walking along the record shop’s first floor, shelves of vinyl records behind. It’s a shadowy old fashioned place, reminiscent of records shops of the 60’s and 70’s. Through the window we can the rooftops of Soho outside.

S.F.X: War, children, it’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away. War, children, it’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away.

CAPTION: When Lord Morningstar fell he had expected to feel lost. Abandoned. But much to his surprise he had felt liberated.

PAGE 8, PANEL 5

Full profile shot of him stood at the counter, facing its long haired owner Izzy, who is dressed in a T-shirt and denim jeans. In the security mirror on the wall we can see Izzy is a demon.

IZZY: Evening, Mr Sparrow, can I interest you in any first editions?

MR SPARROW: No, thank you, Izzy, I only require my personal booth.

IZZY: No problem, it’s ready and waiting. You expecting a delivery?

MR SPARROW: That I am, Izzy, that I am.

PAGE 9, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Head to waist shot of Mr Sparrow in a listening booth, placing a white sleeve record on a chest height player. The booth is padded and similar to the one seen in episode 1 of the BBC One series ’Life On Mars.’

CAPTION: The Lady Epiphany had almost ended his life, and for what?

CAPTION: Something he didn’t even really believe in.

PAGE 9, PANEL 2

Head to chest shot of him dropping the needle arm on the vinyl.

CAPTION: He cared only for his home. Hell was everything.

PAGE 9, PANEL 3

Similar to the previous panel but now a bright white glow is coming from where the needle has hit the groove of the vinyl.

CAPTION: It was forever.

PAGE 9, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of him looking down at a small wooden box now on the record player. The bright white glow has gone and the booth is normal.

CAPTION: Lord Morningstar’s campaign had almost cost it everything. For months he had bided his time, made alliances.

PAGE 9, PANEL 5

Head to waist profile shot of him leaving the record shop, with Izzy in the background putting up a Grateful Dead poster.

S.F.X: Mmm, a flood is threatening my very life today, gimme, gimme shelter.

CAPTION: And now, finally, he had his own campaign to wage.

PAGE 10, PANEL 1

Page width panel. In the foreground is a head to waist shot of Solomon from behind in the foreground standing in front of the Devil’s Crow pub. Rebuilt after the events of Modern Days, issue # 53. Twilight is seeping into the evening.

ARTIST NOTE: This panel is roughly the same shape as the pub exterior.

COB ( O.P ): I’m not looking to be nosey, Sol, but shouldn’t you be out investigating something? It’s nice having your company and all, but it ain’t good to spent too much time indoors.

PAGE 10, PANEL 2

Insert.

Close up of the pub’s sign positioned on the bottom right of panel 1.

PAGE 10, PANEL 3

Page width panel. Overhead shot of the pub’s interior, very much as it was back in Modern Days. Solomon sat on a stool at the long, old fashioned wooden bar. Cob is leant on a pump tap. He’s dressed in his usual white shirt and black braces.

SOLOMON: It’s quiet here, Cob, not a lot of places in this city like that.

PAGE 10, PANEL 4

Two panels on this tier. Head and shoulders shot of Cob in a circular panel.

COB: You sure that’s all it is?

PAGE 10, PANEL 5

Head to waist profile shot of Solomon and Cob facing each other.

SOLOMON: Cob, sometimes a man just needs a quiet drink, okay.

COB: Okay, but if you need to talk, you know I’m always here.

SOLOMON: Yeah, Cob, I know.

SOLOMON: And thanks.

PAGE 10, PANEL 6

Two panels on this bottom tier. Similar shot to the previous panel.

COB: So, how are you and that cat getting on?

SOLOMON: You ever feel like you’re just being tolerated, Cob?

PAGE 10, PANEL 7

Head to waist shot of Solomon, his collar up, his hands in his trench coat pockets. He’s in the foreground with the pub behind.

CAPTION: “Well, it’s kind of like that.”

PAGE 11, PANEL 1

Two panels on this top tier. Full shot of the Hidden Scrolls bookshop from across the street, with the first hints of dawn.

SOLOMON ( O.P ): Mathias, have you been sleeping on my bed again?

MATHIAS ( O.P ): It’s not your bed. And from what I’ve observed you have rarely used it recently. An opportunity presented itself.

MATHIAS ( O.P ): I took it

SOLOMON ( O.P ): Okay, fair point. Have you seen my slippers?

PAGE 11, PANEL 2

Exterior shot of the bookshop with a close up of the front door, with a reflection of the other buildings across the street.

MATHIAS ( O.P ): You left them in the fridge.

SOLOMON ( O.P ): The fridge?

MATHIAS ( O.P ): You were somewhat inebriated … again.

PAGE 11, PANEL 3

Page width panel. Wide shot of the downstairs of the bookshop. It’s much as it was in Modern Days, old fashioned with a wooden counter and central round table, with high wooden shelves, leather bound and hardcover books.  

Solomon is stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase, looking up at Mathias, who is sat on one of the steps. Solomon looks slightly worse for wear, dressed in a dressing gown, with a T-shirt and boxer shorts, looking for his slippers.

SOLOMON: Forgive me, Mathias, I’m a bit fuzzy at the moment, but did I miss the part when you became my mother?

MATHIAS: Oddly, I have no desire to be your mother. If I were to have offspring I would clearly have higher aspirations.

SOLOMON: Of course. The fridge you say?

PAGE 11, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Full profile shot of Solomon going up the staircase, passing Mathias, both ignoring the other.

SOLOMON: Better get them out then, I guess.

MATHIAS: You may have to defrost them.

SOLOMON: Okay, on it.

MATHIAS: Perhaps you should keep a spare pair at Cob’s.

PAGE 11, PANEL 5

Head to chest semi-profile shot of Solomon half turned back.

SOLOMON: Meaning?

PAGE 12, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Full profile shot of Solomon on the right of the panel, stood on the landing, fully turned back to Mathias, who has now also turned and is sat on the top stair.

MATHIAS: Meaning you spend so much time there lately it might be prudent if you stayed there overnight, not to mention safer. Walking through the city, very much the worse for wear is perhaps not the most prudent of ideas, wise king.

SOLOMON: Meaning?

MATHIAS: Meaning I would have thought someone who  has lived as long as you have would be a little better at dealing with his feelings by now. Though apparently I was wrong.

PAGE 12, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Similar to the previous panel but closer.

SOLOMON: Me and my feelings get on pretty well as it happens.

MATHIAS: You just don’t talk to each other much, is that it?

SOLOMON: Mathias, only a cat could take this long getting to the point.

PAGE 12, PANEL 3

Full shot of Mathias from behind, sat on the top stair, looking up at Solomon, also in a full shot and stood on the landing.

MATHIAS: Okay then, this is about Lady Morningstar isn’t it?

SOLOMON: Lucy?

MATHIAS: About her leaving.

SOLOMON: She left, people do, life changes. It’s nothing new.

PAGE 12, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of Solomon from behind, with Mathias on the top stair facing him.

MATHIAS: If it was just her I would agree, but it’s only been six months since Lord Morningstar and Skye left as well. The only one of your lasting friendships that remains is Cob, for this to have had an effect would hardly be surprising.

PAGE 12, PANEL 5

Head to waist shot of Solomon now walking away along the landing, with Mathias still sat on the top stair watching him go.

SOLOMON: What’s surprising is how much time I spend talking to a cat.

PAGE 12, PANEL 6

Head and shoulders shot of Mathias, his wide cat eyes full of a profound sadness as he briefly lets his usual guard down.

MATHIAS: I miss them too, you know.

PAGE 13, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Night. It’s raining. In the foreground on the left of the panel is a black taxi cab parked in front of the Peppermint Club. Indistinct figures can be seen through the large front window with bouncers stood either side of the main entrance. The neon sign is reflected on the wet ground.

NOTE: I’ve used the lyrics to ‘Rebel Rebel’ by David Bowie. Potential copyright problems but this can always be changed.

S.F.X: Rebel, rebel, you’ve torn your dress. Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess. Rebel, rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so!

PAGE 13, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Exterior shot of the Peppermint Club’s top floor. Through the glass of its large window we can see Papa Midas silhouetted, staring out at the pouring rain.

PAPA MIDAS: I agree, Sol, for the moment our interests align.

PAGE 13, PANEL 3

In the foreground is a head to chest shot of Papa Midas. P.O.V is from the outside looking in, rain running down the glass, with a head to waist shot of Solomon stood behind him.

PAPA MIDAS: The area of magic and the supernatural is your speciality. I have no desire for it to impact what I have built here. It has this place in the world, but not in my world.

SOLOMON: Yeah, I figured you’d see it that way.

PAGE 13, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Full profile shot of them, Papa Midas now turned to Solomon, with the large mahogany desk between them. The office is as previously seen in Modern Days, red carpeting, cushions, and wood panelling.

PAPA MIDAS: Just so we’re on the same page, Sol, you’re welcome to conduct your business here, but that doesn’t change the current state of where our business relationship stands.

PAGE 13, PANEL 5

A head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Solomon, eyeing Papa Midas guardedly as he lights the cigarette in his mouth.

SOLOMON: Fine by me.

PAGE 14, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Full profile shot of them both. Papa Midas stood behind the desk and Solomon stood in front of it, holding the cigarette at his side, smoke pluming up from it.

PAPA MIDAS: With that said, I may have a job for you after this is done.

SOLOMON: You still want to employ me? I’m surprised.

PAPA MIDAS: Don’t be, despite our differences you’ve proved a valuable asset to me in the past. I haven’t got this far by letting misunderstandings get in the way of my business.

PAGE 14, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Similar to panel 1 but a head to waist shot, Solomon pointing at Papa Midas with his cigarette.

SOLOMON: Misunderstandings? You tried to barbeque my friends.

SOLOMON: Not to mention torching my office. I loved that place.

PAPA MIDAS: It was simply business, Sol. I thought you understood that. And strictly speaking I was targeting any friend to the Morningstar family. You just happened to be one.

PAGE 14, PANEL 3

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Solomon dragging on the cigarette. He’s purely business but there’s an anger there.

SOLOMON: Either way you were targeting people close to me.

PAGE 14, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of Papa Midas from behind with Solomon facing him across the desk.

PAPA MIDAS: Abbadon Morningstar was not someone you said no to.

SOLOMON: Yeah well, he’s gone now.

PAPA MIDAS: For good?

SOLOMON: For good.

PAGE 14, PANEL 5

In the foreground is a head to waist shot of Solomon walking away, Papa Midas still stood behind the desk in the background. The frame of the office door is the border panel.

PAPA MIDAS: So, are you interested in the job or not?

SOLOMON: Possibly.

PAGE 15, PANEL 1

SPLASH: In the foreground on the left of the panel is a semi-profile shot of a topless female stripper dancing in a cage. In the background is a stage area with another cage and a male dancer who is stepping out of it toward a pole. In the front of the stage is Solomon sat at a table, Harmony nearby.

NOTE: I’ve used the lyrics to ‘Setting Sun’ by The Chemical Brothers. Potential copyright problems but this can be changed.

S.F.X: You’re the devil in me, I brought in from the cold. You said your body was young, but your mind was very old. You’re coming on strong and I like the way the visions we had have faded away.

CAPTION: “I’ll let you know.”

PAGE 15, PANEL 2

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of Solomon sat at the table, smoking a cigarette, a half empty glass on the table. Harmony, dressed in her thigh length gown has now sat herself down across from him, her chin resting on her hands as she stares at him, a dreamy look in her eyes.

S.F.X: You’re part of a life I’ve never had, I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad, I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad, I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad, I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad, I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad,

HARMONY: So, tell me, Sol, how come I only ever seen you on your own.

SOLOMON: Harm, if I was seeing someone, do you really think I’d bring her here?

HARMONY: Hmm, yeah, that’s a good point, Sol.

PAGE 15, PANEL 3

Head to waist profile shot of Solomon, leaning in close to her.

SOLOMON: Harm, much as I enjoy our chats, I’m here working.

HARMONY: Yeah? You and Midas made up then?

SOLOMON: I guess you could say we’ve come to an understanding.

PAGE 15, PANEL 4

Full shot of them, but now Harmony is getting up, affectionately putting her hand on Solomon’s shoulders as she does.

HARMONY: That’s great, Sol.

SOLOMON: Harm.

HARMONY: Okay, okay, good talk, Sol.

PAGE 16, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Head to waist shot of Harmony in the foreground, a look on her face we haven’t seen before. There‘s something deeper going on. In the background Solomon is sat at the table, looking over toward her.

SOLOMON: Everything okay, Harm?

PAGE 16, PANEL 2

In the foreground is a head to waist shot of Solomon from behind, with Harmony now turned and facing him, putting her best smile on, her game face, putting on a performance for him.

HARMONY: Yeah, course. You know me, Sol, tickety boo.

PAGE 16, PANEL 3

Similar to panel 1, the same deeper look now back on her face.

HARMONY: Little Miss Sunshine.

PAGE 16, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist semi-profile shot of Solomon, looking down at his half empty glass, thoughtful.

SOLOMON: Little Miss Sunshine.

PAGE 16, PANEL 5

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a head to chest shot. From his expression we see him thinking on what she said.

PAGE 16, PANEL 6

Similar to the two previous panel but now a head and shoulders shot, from his expression it‘s clear he‘s made a decision.

SOLOMON: Damn.

PAGE 17, PANEL 1

Two panels on this top tier. Similar to panel 1, page 8. Full shot of Mr Sparrow walking along Carnaby Street, but now it’s night, apart from a few people behind him its mostly empty.

PAGE 17, PANEL 2

Full shot of Solomon stood in the dressing room corridor of backstage, looking slightly uncomfortable as scantily clad men and women walk along it’s length going about their business.

SOLOMON: Hmm.

PAGE 17, PANEL 3

Two panels on this tier. Full shot of Mr Sparrow walking along an alleyway, the wooden box in held in his upturned hands.

PAGE 17, PANEL 4

Head to chest shot of Solomon stood at the dressing room door, deliberately turned away. Inside the room Harmony is sat at one of the three dressing tables that run along the wall, applying mascara. Next to her is fellow stripper Gina ( Modern Days # 25 ) applying lipstick, and next to Gina is a half naked man, adjusting a white bouffant wig atop his head.

SOLOMON: Uh, Harmony, you sure everything is okay? Back at the table you seemed, well, you don’t seem your  self.

GINA: Hey Sol.

CLINT: Looks like your boyfriend’s a shy one, honey.

HARMONY: He’s not my boyfriend, Clint.

CLINT: Well, if he’s interested I’m footloose and fancy free.

HARMONY: Clint.

PAGE 17, PANEL 5

Two panels o this bottom tier. Full wide shot of Mr Sparrow placing the box on the wet ground, a thin smile riding his lips.

PAGE 17, PANEL 6

Similar to panel 4 but Harmony has stopped putting her mascara on and is turned toward Solomon, while Clint is looking on, hands on hips. For his part Solomon looks now even more uncomfortable and would rather be anywhere else.

HARMONY: Yeah I’m fine, Sol, just tired I guess. Were you worried about me. Oh, that’s so sweet, hey Gina, isn’t that sweet?

GINA: Yeah, sweet hun.

CLINT: Oh, he’s certainly that, sugar.

GINA: Ditto.

PAGE 18, PANEL 1

Insert.

Close up of the wooden box on the wet ground, slivers of icy white blue light are now seeping out between its lid and its base.

ARTIST NOTE: Inserts run vertically along the left side of panel 4.

PAGE 18, PANEL 2

Insert.

Close up shot of Mr Sparrow’s hand as he places an old leather bound book on top of it. On its tattered and worn spine only one of the words can be partly made out; Lovecraft.

PAGE 18, PANEL 3

Insert.

Similar to panel 1, the light pouring out, absorbing the book.

MR SPARROW: Wake from your eternal slumber, Old One. Find shape and form in the words within this book. Find reality in fiction and be birthed unto the plain of this mortal world.

PAGE 18, PANEL 4

FULL PAGE SPLASH: High view with a roof ledge in the foreground, a full wide shot of the rain soaked alleyway below. The wooden box is splintered and a grey and green scaled, elongated eel like creature is now rising out of the white glow and into the night sky, its circular gaping mouth is filled with razor sharp teeth and its face unearthly and unknowable with its lack of eyes. On the right of the panel Mr Sparrow is stood looking up in awe as it rises away from him.

S.F.X: Screeeeech.

MR SPARROW: Rise up, Old One, breathe in this stench filled mortal world, know it for all its depravity and its woes, and through that knowledge the divinity of the holy vessel will stand out like a beacon. Find it, then bring it to me.

PAGE 19, PANEL 1

Half page panel. Full profile shot of Solomon and Harmony stood in the corridor. It’s quieter now, not so much commotion.

SOLOMON: Harm, how long have we known each other?

HARMONY: I dunno, Sol, probs since I was seventeen I guess.

SOLOMON: So, five years.

HARMONY: Bout that, Sol.

PAGE 19, PANEL 2

Two panels on this vertical tier. This is similar to the previous panel, but now it’s a closer head to waist shot of them.

SOLOMON: And what’s been my job ever since we met?

HARMONY: Detective, Sol.

SOLOMON: And do you know what makes me good at my job?

HARMONY: Umm, detecting?

PAGE 19, PANEL 3

Head to chest shot of Solomon from Harmony’s P.O.V, looking serious, making sure he’s getting his point across to her.

SOLOMON: I know people, Harm, I know what makes them tick. I know when something isn’t right, when they’re hiding something. I know when they’re lying to themselves. And most of all, I know when one of my friends needs my help.

SOLOMON: So, I’m going to ask you again, is everything okay?

PAGE 19, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Similar to panel 1 with a full shot of them stood in the corridor, Harmony looking surprised.

HARMONY: Am I really your friend, Sol?

SOLOMON: Harm, I’m being serious. If it’s Midas, if he’s …

HARMONY: It ain’t Midas, he always treats his girls good.

SOLOMON: Then what?

PAGE 19, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders shot of her turned away from him, her expression troubled, with him behind in a head to chest shot.

SOLOMON: I can help.

HARMONY: I ain’t sure you can, Sol, not with this.

PAGE 19, PANEL 6

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of her half turned as she hears the sound of the Old One screeching from outside.

HARMONY: This is a different kind of trouble, I … Hey, what’s that?

PAGE 20, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Wide shot of the London skyline, the Old One surging through the clouds and rain, searching out its prey.

S.F.X: Screeeeech.

PAGE 20, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Head to chest shot of Solomon now turned, listening, with Harmony behind him, looking scared.

S.F.X: Screeeeech.

HARMONY: Sol, what is that? It sounds …

PAGE 20, PANEL 3

Forehead to chin shot of Solomon, now looking deeply concerned as there’s something in the sound he recognises of old.

SOLOMON: Ancient.

SOLOMON: Harm, I think we’d better get out of here before …

PAGE 20, PANEL 4

SPLASH: Full shot of Solomon and Harmony from behind, stood at the end of the corridor reacting as the Old One crashes through the window wall of the club, smashing into the tables, debris flying, people being crushed, falling backwards or running in panic. P.O.V is from the corridor onto the stage and the main floor where the carnage is erupting.

PAGE 21, PANEL 1

SPLASH: On the right of the panel is the large, gaping maw of the Old One bearing down on Clint, now in a red dress as well as the bouffant wig, clearly terrified and about to be consumed. In the background it’s total chaos, customers and staff running in panic or lying under the rubble and debris.

CLINT: Oh, sweet Jesus.

PAGE 21, PANEL 2

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to chest shot of Harmony, terrified and shocked, tears welling up as Clint screams.

CLINT ( O.P ): Eeeeeh!

HARMONY: Clint.

PAGE 21, PANEL 3

Head to waist shot of Solomon watching this unfold, clearly thinking fast about his next move, with Harmony stood behind.

SOLOMON: Harmony.

HARMONY: Sol?

SOLOMON: Run.

PAGE 21, PANEL 4

In the foreground is a full shot of them running along the corridor and behind them the stage end is erupting with rubble and exploding debris as the Old One crashes through.

PAGE 22, PANEL 1

Full page length panel. Full shot of Solomon bursting through the stage door exit, desperately diving to the wet ground and pulling Harmony with him, with the Old One almost on top of them as it rises up screeching up into the night.

S.F.X: Screeeeech.

SOLOMON: Down!

PAGE 22, PANEL 2

Three panels on this vertical tier. Overhead view of Solomon cradling Harmony as the Old One bears down on them.

SOLOMON: Sorry Harm.

PAGE 22, PANEL 3

Close up shot of a golden spear soaring up through the Old One’s throat and coming out through the top of its scaled head.

S.F.X: Screeeeech …urk …

PAGE 22, PANEL 4

In the foreground is the dead carcass of the Old One lying on the wet ground. In the background Solomon is still cradling Harmony, both of them looking surprised at their escape.

LYRIEL ( O.P ): Keep sitting there if you want.

PAGE 23, PANEL 1

FULL PAGE SPLASH: Low angled shot of the present day Lyriel, hair dripping wet, dressed partly in a black costume and thigh high leather boots and holding the golden spear, with what remains of her original golden armour, such as a breastplate ( with an angelic emblem pin on it that we’ll come back to ) lower arm guards, knee plates and shoulder protection.

LYRIEL: But trust me, this thing is just getting started.

[th3fragile]

I was tagged by @opiate-priest *smooch

Rules - Put your songs on shuffle and put the first 10 that come on

This Moment is Eternity - Nightwish

Care Away - Mediaeval Baebes

The Game - Lacuna Coil

Can’t Come Down - Mark Lanegan

For Once in Your Life - Hole

Scatola di Vetro - Dama

When You’re Gone - The Cranberries

Wonderland - Taylor Swift

Illusive Consensus - Epica

Hijo de la Luna - Lyriel

@moscardo tagged me!! THANK YOU

click here, log in on your spotify, and share your top tracks on the long term

nothing,nowhere., Clarity In Kerosene

Puddle Of Mudd, Cocaine

OMNIA, One Morning in May

nothing,nowhere., sayer

Jerry Cantrell, Setting Sun - from DC's Dark Nights: Metal Soundtrack

Liberato, TU T'E SCURDAT' 'E ME

Silversun Pickups, Dots and Dashes (Enough Already)

nothing,nowhere., rejecter

OMNIA, The Flutterby Set

Placebo, Drag

ABBA, Dancing Queen

OMNIA, Eleanor Plunkett

In This Moment, Lost At Sea

Pink Floyd, A Pillow Of Winds - 2011 Remastered Version

OMNIA, Uvil Uvil

Lil Peep, Benz Truck (гелик)

OMNIA, Shaman of Chaos

nothing,nowhere., Skully

Alice In Chains, Hollow

Placebo, Exit Wounds

Mazzy Star, Look On Down From The Bridge

OMNIA, Luna

OMNIA, Dil Gaya

OMNIA, En Avant Blonde

OMNIA, The Fairy Queen

Staind, It's Been Awhile

OMNIA, Anam Cara

nothing,nowhere., REM (feat. Lil West)

Lil Peep, Better Off (Dying)

OMNIA, Planxty Irwin

OMNIA, Love Birds

Pvris, No Mercy

nothing,nowhere., Funeral Fantasy

OMNIA, O'Carolan's Dream

OMNIA, Bridget Cruise

OMNIA, OMNIA Medley: I Don't Speak Human / Alive / Black House / Etrezomp-ni Kelted / An Dro

Alice In Chains, Your Decision

Pink Floyd, Grantchester Meadows - 2011 Remastered Version

OMNIA, Jenny's Tits

Pvris, What's Wrong

AURORA, Queendom

Lil Peep, Save That Shit

Staind, Tangled Up In You

Alice In Chains, Voices

Marilyn Manson, The Love Song

Charli XCX, You - Ha Ha Ha

Hayley Kiyoko, Expectations (Overture)

Seether, FMLYHM

Pink Floyd, Pigs On The Wing (Part One) [2011 - Remaster]

Beatrice Eli, Girls

I’m tagging @venusiidae  @hush-its-okay @douchebat and anyone who wants to do this!

[ventrue-rosary]

I was tagged by the lovely @nightingaletrash. Thank you!!!

Height: 5'9"

Time Right Now: 11:49am

Last thing I googled: YouTube 

Favourite music artist: Erm, cYsmix, Lindsey Stirling. Delain, Miracle of Sound, Sharm, REOL, Capsule, Miku Hatsune, Lyriel, and loads of other artists who have made 1 or 2 songs I like

Song stuck in my head: We Are War by Miracle of Sound 

Last Movie I watched: Your Name

Last TV show I watched: Well the last one I finished was Yuri!!! On Ice but I’m currently watching Hyouka and Pokemon Sun and Moon

What Im Wearing Right Now: Nightshirt and dressing gown bc I just woke up (^:

When I created This Blog: November 2014

Do You Have Any Other Blogs: One I made for university because we had to create a blog to document our uni experience but its not in use right now

Favourite Colour: Blue. black, purple, pink and red

Average Hours Of Sleep: 5 or 6 

Favourite Characters: Miranda Lawson, Garrus Vakarian, Alistair Theirin, Evie Frye, Jacob Frye, Kaidan Alenko, Joseph Joestar, Major Motoko, Mercy, Genji, McCree, D.Va, Harley Quinn, Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Nick Valentine, Geralt, Triss Merigold, Ciri, Elizabeth Comstock, Arataka Reigen and many more 

Dream Job:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Number Of Blankets I Sleep With: One duvet and thats it

Following: 540

Do You Get Asks Regularly: I sometimes get about a few asks a week followed by complete silence lol

Why Did I choose My URL: I love Jack and it makes a good online moniker 

Gender: Female 

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Pokemon Team: Valour though I did delete it from my phone

Tagging @schmidte17, @bakuraryxu, @magic-space-games andanyone else who wants to give this a go. 

[daughterofgemini]

Tagged by @snowvic :)

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better.

Nicknames: My official alias is Gem but my actual name is Helen. Shhh don’t tell anyone. Star sign: Cancer or Gemini depending on who you ask (I’m a cusper) Height: 5’4 (or thereabouts) Time right now: 18:50 Last thing you googled: Aperture (lol) Fave music artist: I have so many but probably Nightwish Song stuck in my head: Lyriel – Skin and Bones Last movie I watched: Blood Diamond, some late night movie on TV Last TV show I watched: Law and Order SVU (Which is odd because I get triggered often) What I’m wearing right now: Grey jeans and a grey and white stripey hoodie. When I created this blog: June 2016 The kind of stuff I post: Gay stuff, cats, TV shows, video games, occasionally poetry/quotes and random stuff. Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff apparently! Pokémon team: Ummm, Mystic I guess? (I know nothing about Pokémon) Favorite color: I really can’t choose, I love them all. Average hours of sleep: 9 (I like sleeping lol) Lucky number: Don’t have one. Favorite characters: Lexa, oh god ummmm I can’t think, I really haven’t loved any character as much as Lexa. Dream job: Writer or a lady of leisure   Number of blankets I sleep with: 1

I tag (no pressure though!) @fenreor, @linsatiable @quinnsgardenia, @letskrisztatiszta, @clexane-injection, @100clexatrash, @donotsteponthatfish, @italianlexa, @gonnabgona, and @geralehane

[fragileheartbeats]

Could you please do more of House Lyrielle. Their island, ancestral weapons? Members, even. What are they like?

Hmmm let's see...

Ancestral Island: Isle of Lumina

The Isle of Lumina is a hidden gem nestled amidst the vast expanse of the sea. Surrounded by treacherous waters and veiled by mystical barriers, it remains concealed from prying eyes. The island itself is a verdant paradise, with lush forests, cascading waterfalls, and sprawling gardens. Ancient Valyrian architecture, adorned with intricate carvings and adorned with white roses, dot the landscape, blending seamlessly with the natural beauty of the surroundings.

Ancestral Weapons: Moonshadow, Starlight

House Lyrielle possesses a pair of ancestral weapons known as "Moonshadow" and "Starlight." Moonshadow is a slender longsword, forged from Valyrian steel and imbued with enchantments that allow it to move silently through the air, striking with deadly precision. Starlight, on the other hand, is a curved dagger crafted from a rare meteorite, its edge shimmering with faint starlight, capable of piercing even the thickest armor.

Prominent Members:

1. **Elyria Lyrielle**: The current matriarch of House Lyrielle, Elyria embodies the grace and wisdom of her lineage. With silver-golden hair cascading down her back and eyes the color of amethyst, she is revered for her healing abilities and her profound connection with her dragon, Whisperwind.

2. **Aldaric Lyrielle**: The eldest son of Elyria, Aldaric is a scholar and a warrior, his intellect matched only by his skill with the Moonshadow Blade. Though shy and reserved, he possesses a quiet strength that commands respect among his kin. Aldaric's passion for knowledge drives him to explore the depths of Lumina's ancient libraries, seeking wisdom to aid his house in its mission to protect the natural world.

3. **Elara Lyrielle**: The youngest daughter of Elyria, Elara is known for her insatiable curiosity and adventurous spirit. With a love for exploration and discovery, she often ventures beyond Lumina's shores, eager to uncover the mysteries of the world beyond. Despite her naivety at times, Elara's compassion and bravery make her a cherished member of House Lyrielle. The youngest of the Lyrielle siblings, Elera possesses a fierce spirit hidden beneath her shy exterior. With her light purple eyes ablaze with determination, she trains tirelessly with her dragon, Stardust, honing her skills in aerial combat.

4. **Whisperwind and Stardust:** Elyria's dragon, Whisperwind, is a majestic creature with scales the color of moonlight. Agile and swift, it shares a deep bond with Elyria, acting as her steadfast companion and protector. Elera's dragon, Stardust, is a smaller yet equally formidable companion, with scales that glitter like the night sky.

Characteristics:

House Lyrielle members are characterized by their shy and timid nature, often preferring the tranquility of Lumina to the chaos of the outside world. Despite their naivety at times, they possess a deep reverence for knowledge and a commitment to preserving the natural world. Their silver-golden hair and light purple eyes mark them as a true descendants of Old Valyria, their ethereal beauty a reflection of their connection to the mystical realm they call home.

[le-saltimbanque-decrepit]

To know me better

Nicknames: My name is Almudena, but my nickname is Almu xD

Sexual orientation: Straigh :P 

Gender: Female

Star sign: Leo

Single or taken: Taken

Height: around 1.60

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor!!

Favorite colour: Black and pink

Time right now: 10.40 a.m

Average hours of sleep: It depends

Lucky Number: 21

Last thing I googled: I don’t remember, I think that a kuroshitsuji book of the atlantic trailer...

Favourite bands/artists:  Pfff... let me see.. Nightwish, Xandria, Epica, Therion, Amberian Dawn...

Favorite songs: So many to pick one... Buried Moon by Wildpath, He sleeps in a grove by Amberian Dawn, Paranoid Circus by Lyriel, My lost Lenore by Tristania, The Escapist by Nightwish...and now I love more songs, for example  Tvoy Strakh Tvoy Vrag by Cold Sight, Cancer of earth by Sanctorium, Song for the dead king by The Aerium, Battle of Kadesh by Todesbonden...

Why I chose my URL: Because I fucking love the 4P ♥

[oohnoniall]

Look I just think that Tamlin’s last name is Rosehall and that Lyriel gives him so much shit for it

“Why is your house named after you?” “Lyriel.” “No this is a serious question.”

[terminatordad]

halloween, haunted houses, the color orange

first of all thank you

halloween: I’m sure I’m surprising absolutely no one here, but Pennywise would make for a really cool cosplay. if I had to go with something less obvious, I’d pick either Lady Awa, a former keyboardist from Lordi (check her out, I love her character design), or a genderbent version of Starchild from KISS. because I’m a huge dork who cares way too much about that band.

haunted houses: hoo boy. I’d say it’s a tie between the time I got attacked by a dog as I was walking to kindergarten (I wasn’t hurt, but that dog was the most vicious fucking thing I’ve ever seen and I still blame it for my fear of stray dogs), and the time I had to have a CT scan done. I don’t know why it felt so terrifying, maybe it was the combination of being left alone in the room with that machine and the noise it made, but it still freaks me out to think about it.

the color orange: more than one song, actually. the first thing that comes to mind is Memoria by Lyriel:

But there’s also pretty much every song I know from Cinema Strange (especially Greensward Grey) and The Lovecats by The Cure. I used to listen to these a lot one autumn when I was starting high school, so now I pretty much just associate them with that time.

[lunaticobscurity]

on the way home from my friend’s house just now, the sun was just about completely gone from a clear sky, though the ground was soaked with rain. i enjoyed seeing the silhouettes of trees against the dark blue as i walked through cantley.

a little later than that, when i was almost home, i saw something weird near the bus stop closest to my house: black-clad people silently boarding a completely black bus with dark blue tinted windows.

i wonder what it was

if anyone is interested. i was listening to these bands as i walked: blind guardian, lyriel, light bringer

[fragileheartbeats]

make another valerian house that survived, make them protective.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐑 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝐾𝑁𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝑆 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𖤐

─ 𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𖤐

House Valysar, a lesser-known house among the Valyrian descendants, has carved its existence into the tapestry of history not through wealth or power but through unyielding loyalty and an unwavering sense of duty. Their story is intertwined with that of House Celestyr, binding them in a tale of survival, allegiance, and unwavering courage.

The ancestral weapon of House Valysar is a slender, elegantly crafted spear known as "Silent Guardian." Unlike the typical Valyrian steel swords that many noble houses boast of, Silent Guardian's blade is forged from a unique blend of Valyrian steel and a mysterious, obsidian-like material found in the depths of old Valyria. This combination gives the spear an eerie, almost otherworldly appearance, with a dark, shimmering blade that seems to absorb light. It is said that the spear's creation was inspired by the house's protective and watchful nature, serving as both a symbol of their duty to those they vow to protect and a formidable weapon in battle.

The most renowned member of House Valysar was Rhaegor Valysar, a figure of deep loyalty and profound courage. His close relationship with Jacaelar Celestyr, forged through mutual respect and shared trials, became legendary. Rhaegor's role in safeguarding the future of House Celestyr, especially in protecting Maesella and guiding her children, Rhaevar and Nelaella, earned him a revered place in the annals of both houses. Despite their modest number, each member of House Valysar is trained in the art of combat and strategy from a young age, ensuring their capability to protect and serve with honor.

Their words, "In Loyalty, We Stand," speak volumes about the essence of House Valysar. It is a testament to their unwavering loyalty, not just to House Celestyr but to their own ideals of honor, protection, and service. These words serve as a constant reminder of their commitment and the lengths they are willing to go to for those they have sworn to protect.

The members of House Valysar are characterized by their loyalty, protectiveness, and disciplined nature. They are the embodiment of the devoted guardian, always ready to stand in defense of their allies and loved ones. Their intimidating presence is balanced by their affectionate and reliable nature, making them respected and cherished by those who know them well. However, their protective instinct can sometimes become overbearing, leading to conflicts with those they aim to protect. Despite this, their courage, devotion, and reliability make them invaluable allies and formidable guardians.

House Valysar, though not rich in gold or lands, possesses a wealth of honor and loyalty that surpasses many more affluent houses. In their story of unwavering allegiance to House Celestyr, through trials and tribulations, they embody the true essence of valor and dedication. Rhaegor Valysar, with his legendary deeds, stands as a beacon of the noble spirit that defines House Valysar. Their sigil and words are not just symbols but a solemn vow to always stand in loyalty, a vow they have upheld through generations, making them an indelible part of the legacy of Valyria.

My other original house:

House Celestyr

House Lyrielle

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter Two

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        The next two days were the most nerve-racking of his life. He had never had trouble with women, nor had he had an issue with bringing people to the Spring Court. It was just knowing that he was bringing an unknown variable into his and Feyre's life that was making him feel as though he was going to be sick to his stomach.

        Feyre had been through so much lately. She had gone up against Amarantha, had been through hell and back, and still was finding it hard to sleep. How could he dare bring someone else into their home? Someone that could potentially ruin all that they had? He felt rather selfish. He felt as though he shouldn't be doing any of this.

        And yet he knew it would be the biggest mistake of his life if he just let Lyriel go.

        She stood in the entryway of the palace, a bag over her shoulder and her fingers clenching and unclenching. She looked as if she would be more comfortable with a dagger in her hand. With any sort of weapon really. He briefly wondered if he should be afraid of her, but the thought nearly made him laugh.

        He was a warrior. Born and bred. A beast with no control over his temperament nor over how he was perceived by the people around him. He didn't need to be afraid of a girl with snowy hair and a lean build. He doubted she'd even be able to scratch him.

        "Are you ready?" Lyriel looked over her shoulder at him, anxiety written in her evergreen eyes. "Or are we just going to stand here all morning?"

        Her tone was enough to drive him mad. He wondered how anyone could stand to hear that condescending voice of hers. Or was that saved for him? Surely Kallias would have said something about it by now. He wouldn't have let it go on for this long.

        "Have you ever winnowed before?" He questioned, one eyebrow-raising as he looked down at her.

        She was not a short woman. Not by any means. He just seemed to tower over everyone he came across. Even if he hadn't been the biggest of his brothers, he was still a tall man.

        "I haven't had the pleasure," she said stiffly, her fingers continuing that clenching movement. He wondered briefly if it was a nervous habit. If it was, he wanted to know where it had come from. 

        He scowled at the thought. He shouldn't give a damn about anything that she did. He and Feyre, that was what mattered. Feyre was the only woman he needed. The only one he would ever want. He was just bringing Lyriel back in order to see what he could get out of their bond. If there was anything he could even get. 

        "Just close your eyes and it'll be over before you know it," he stated as he wrapped one arm around her waist. His grip was a tad bit tighter than it had to be, his fingers digging into her hip. He could feel the dagger she had strapped there. He doubted it was the only weapon on her person. She had to have multiple hidden on her. After all, she had reeked of muck and blood when they had first met.

        He could still smell the scent of blood on her. He wondered if it had just become a part of her at this point.

        Tamlin closed his eyes, picturing the gardens of Rosehall in his mind's eye. He could smell the overwhelming scent of roses, the lilies that had just begun to bloom. He could hear the birds chirping happily and the splash of the fountains. Home. All of it was his home. The only place he had ever felt as though he didn't have to hide who he was. Even if that had really only been a recent development.

        The pair were swept up in a wind that smelled like roses, the same scent that made him feel so at ease. 

        His eyes opened as his feet touched the sweeping grounds in front of his manor home. He quickly released Lyriel, stepping away from her and clearing his throat once.

        "Welcome to Rosehall," he stated as he began to walk towards the door. He didn't give himself a second to look back at her reaction to the place.

        However, that did not stop him from hearing it.

        "It's boiling here," she complained as she followed him into the house. "I've never seen so many flowers in one place either." He had no clue if it was a complaint or something more.

        "Yes, yes, it's a lovely place," Tamlin spoke as he led her to the dining room. He barely gave her time to look over the large, beautiful manor. It was less extreme than the ice palace of the winter court. Yet, he was certain it was better in every single way. He doubted that anything in the world could be better than Rosehall. He doubted anything could be better than the Spring Court.

        He turned his head to speak to her, just in time to watch her strip off the fur-lined sweater that she wore. He almost gulped at the sight. However, that would have been the stupid thing to do. Instead, he just glared at her.

        "What do you think you're doing?"

        "I'm hot," Lyriel stated as she shoved the sweater into the bag that now rested on the floor beside her. The satchel was just worn brown leather. It could have held anything in the world. Yet, it more than likely held all her worldly possessions. He was somewhat surprised to see her lay it so carelessly on the floor. "I didn't realize how ... Warm the Spring Court was going to be."

        He nearly laughed at that. "Did you expect it to be cold?"

        "I wasn't sure what to expect, really," she admitted, seeming rather unsure as she spoke. Her fingers were no longer clenching and unclenching. Instead, she had gripped the dagger that she had hidden underneath that sweater. He could now see that several weapons were lining her hips and her corset. She had also managed to strap one to each bicep. That seemed to be where the faint scent of blood was coming from.

        There was a dried spot of blood dotting her right bicep. It looked as though she had been in a rush when hiding her knives. He tried not to find it endearing.

        "We'll have to get you appropriate clothing then," he stated as she began to survey the room. He could see her counting the exits and seeing where she was safest. He briefly wondered if she assumed that he would just let her die in his household. He doubted that would be a good look for him after all. "I don't think it would be appropriate for you to walk around like that."

        Lyriel turned around in time to watch his gesture toward her clothing. The leather pants and corset weren't exactly Spring Court fashion. The fur-lined knee-high boots did not help either. 

        Even if it did look rather fetching on her.

        "I don't see myself staying here long," Lyriel stated as she looked away from him. He hated that she didn't keep looking at him. It seemed as though she found the dining table more interesting than him. "Once your blushing bride realizes who I am I doubt she'll want me around."

        "She'll probably want you around to keep me from annoying her too much," Tamlin was shocked by his own words. Feyre had never complained about how he treated her. At least not really. He just didn't know why he had said it. Perhaps he had just wanted Lyriel to laugh. Or perhaps he was just trying to make her feel more comfortable around him.

        At least then he could get her to tell him just what he could gain from her.

        "That's doubtful," she stated, releasing her hold on the dagger on her hip. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring at him with those pine eyes. It sent a chill down his spine, making him wonder if she was someone that he should have brought into his home. "No, she'll ask me to get out of here. Just like you will when you're done with me."

        Tamlin raised an eyebrow at her words, shocked that she had read him so well so soon. He worried that she had a way into his mind. The bond couldn't let her see everything. Could it?

        "What exactly do you mean by that, Lyriel?"

        "Well, you're clearly in love with her. I'm probably just here so you can figure out how best to ignore whatever this thing," she waved her hand between the two of them, "is." 

        He shook his head slightly as he listened to her words. Just because they were true didn't mean he was going to admit to it. "Right," he said as he looked over at her. "I think you're a little too concerned about this."

        She rolled her eyes, looking away from him once again. He didn't know why it hurt him so much when she did that. Was he that unlovable? The one person who was always supposed to love him seemed to want nothing more than to look away from him. To be as far from him as possible.

        His stomach clenched at the very thought. There was nothing that either of them could do about it either.

        "I think you're not telling yourself the truth," she stated as she took a seat that was normally Feyre's. He wanted to snap at her to move, but he knew better. 

        For now, he was playing the role of the sweet man. The one who was a friend and an ally to her. If only so they could figure out this whole mess and he could get everything out of this. The Winter Court wouldn't dare go against him if he had a political alliance because of a mate. It was the best of both worlds and he knew it.

        He just hoped it didn't all blow up in his face.

        Tamlin sank into his normal seat at the head of the table, straight across from Lyriel. Although the table had been stretched out by nearly six feet, keeping her far from him. He waved his hand once and food appeared on the long table. The smells of roasted chicken and pork wafted into the hallway.

        Lyriel's stomach gave a loud growl. Tamlin almost laughed at the sound.

        "Does Kallias not feed you?" He questioned as he began to make himself a plate. He didn't particularly care what he grabbed. Steamed mushrooms in a dark gravy spread over his roast chicken, a small mound of mashed potatoes were seated beside a bed of leafy greens that smelled of roasted garlic and olive oil. He had ignored the pork entirely. It was only there for Lucien and they all knew it.

        "He did," she stated as she piled her plate high. He had never seen anyone take so many rolls before. She had piled five that he could see on top of her assorted meats and other goodies. "I just didn't get the chance to eat breakfast. And I pulled the late shift last night, so I missed dinner."

        Tamlin's eyebrow rose in surprise as he listened to her. Surely that should not have happened if she was someone important. Although, Lucien had missed a few meals because of sentry duty and emissary duties. All things that he could see her doing. He just had to hope he was right about this whole thing. "How often does this happen?"

        "Not often," she said a bit too quickly. She refused to look at him, biting almost savagely into a roll that she had stuffed with chicken, pork, and the leafy greens. She let out a noise that he had only ever heard Feyre utter in the bedroom after she took her first bite. 

        Tamlin tried not to think of how she looked so happy, so pleased. Just to eat. It reminded him far too much of when Feyre had first come to Rosehall. When they had first fallen in love.

        Thankfully, he was not left alone with Lyriel. If he had been, he would have said or done something stupid in no time. Lucien strolled in, his eyes focused on the food instead of on their guest. 

        "You stayed later than I thought you would," Lucien stated as he sank down into a chair on Tamlin's left side. 

        "I had more business to attend to," Tamlin nodded once towards Lyriel, Lucien's metal eye whirled until it found her. A shocked expression came across his face upon seeing the Winter Court soldier.

        "You stole a soldier?" Lucien questioned, causing the girl to glare at him. Lyriel's evergreen gaze was full of unbridled rage and heat. Enough that it would have scared the shit out of Tamlin had it been on her. If only he would have known that she would soon enough turn that gaze on him multiple times a day.

        "No one stole me," she stated before taking a long sip of a dark red wine that was a specialty of the Spring Court. It tasted of berries and sunshine, magically enhanced by some of the other lords. It was Tamlin's favorite vintage. "He asked me to come and I agreed. We have some business together. Nothing more and nothing less."

        She was a good liar. He would have to keep that information in his back pocket.

        "I see," Lucien's normal eye was now locked on Lyriel while the metal one narrowed at Tamlin. The High Lord of the Spring Court was always unnerved when his friend turned his metal gaze upon him. Although he would never in his life admit to that. He didn't want Lucien to know that anything about him was frightening. 

        Lyriel did not look away from Lucien's stare, her eyes every bit as focused as Lucien's. It was somewhat distracting to watch the two of them just staring each other down. Tamlin briefly wondered if he needed to clear the table. If a brawl were to break out he didn't exactly want to have to deal with the scent of roasted pork clinging to the drapes. 

        Lyriel looked away after a moment, turning her attention to her meal instead of to either of the men sitting before her.

        "Have you seen Feyre yet?" Lucien asked Tamlin, his own attentions brought back to the food. Although Tamlin highly doubted that his truest friend would quit questioning why Lyriel was even there. Nor would he tell Lucien the truth. He wouldn't say a word to anyone about it. They didn't need to know. 

        Not now. Not ever.

        "I just got in," he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "I was going to see her after I ate. I thought it would be for the best."

        "Ianthe's got her looking over wedding plans again. I think she might start to go mad if she has to look at any more though." Lucien stated as he cut a piece of the pork with his dagger.

        "Ianthe's more excited about this than any of us," he pointed out with a slight smile. "It's been far too long since we've had anything to celebrate." 

        Tamlin was eager to spend the rest of his life with Feyre. She was the moon and the stars. She was all that he had ever wanted, all he would ever want. He wasn't sure how he had ever doubted Feyre. When they had first met, he had been sure that she would never in her life want anything to do with him. He had been certain that she would wind up killing him in the middle of the night. But instead she had gone out and risked her life for him. He was somewhat scared that she would wise up and leave him after she found out she could do better.

        Perhaps that was why he had decided to keep her at the Spring Court for as long as physically possible. There was too much cause for him to be rather scared that she would end up vanishing before his eyes. 

        Not only that but it was easier to keep track of her that way. He didn't have to worry about that insane dealing she had made with Rhysand either. Lucien had been doing his best to find the answers at the Day Court, but so far they had found absolutely nothing. Rhysand hadn't shown up either. That in itself was enough to cause Tamlin to grow concerned. Something was brewing. Something that he just didn't quite understand.

        "And what of the Winter Court?" Lucien asked as he looked over at Lyriel. Tamlin could always count on him to attempt to be friendly. Friendly enough for both of them.

        "We've celebrated as much as we can considering..." She trailed off, suddenly picking at her food instead of devouring it as she had been.

        Tamlin cleared his throat once as Lucien paled slightly. "Stupid question, don't mind him. He doesn't think before speaking."

        Lucien shot him a glare. "You'll find that I'm not the only one like that in the Spring Court."

        Lyriel almost smiled at that. He noticed the slight twitch of her lips, the way she had exhaled slightly harder than before. She was either amused or annoyed. Either way, he was going to count it as a good thing. He hoped that he could have a good thing happen at least once a day. Or a week depending on if they even saw each other that often.

        "So, I take it you two are friends," she nodded once between the pair as she continued to casually pick at her plate. He doubted that they should have brought up celebrations within the Winter Court. Those loses had been far too great. Nearly the greatest cost in any of the Courts. Actually, it probably had been.

        "Lucien is my right hand. He helps me run the Spring Court," he introduced the metal-eyed man.

        "Among other things," Lucien smirked slightly before taking a sip of his rich, red wine. "I'm more curious on who you are though."

        "Lyriel Chaeren," she said as she looked at Lucien once more. She kept her eyes on the man, not backing down. Tamlin wondered if she backed down from anything. "And we aren't friends. As I said before, we have business together. Hopefully, it will be dealt with by the wedding. I wouldn't want to impose."

        Tamlin could read between the lines. She didn't want to stick around and see him marry someone else. He couldn't blame her. Although, he didn't want to deal with her disappearing from his life. It was a weird thing to be a mated man. He couldn't deny that he wanted her to be near him. Nor could he deny that he wanted to forget that this whole thing had happened. He couldn't hurt Feyre like that. Not when she had risked everything to be with him. Not when he had fallen so in love with her that it physically hurt him to think of her in a dangerous situation.

        He was trapped in a cycle that he had no idea how to get out of. It was almost worse than being stuck in that godsforsaken mask for all those years. At least he had known there was a way to get out of that. All he could do now was hope and pray that he could manage this without too much difficulty. 

        Lucien looked between the pair, feeling the tension between them. It was somewhat concerning to see how Lyriel was staring down at her plate as if it had insulted her family name. She looked as though she would attack it with any of the multitudes of blades strapped to her body. Tamlin didn't dare believe that he could see all of them. She was prepared for anything. Maybe a bit too prepared.

        Yet, she was not the only one who was tense at that moment. Tamlin was gripping the arms of his chair, his claws close to the surface. He kept them in. Kept himself from going into that rage monster that he knew he was as he did not want Lucien to know that something was so wrong.

        It had absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to scare Lyriel. 

        He would go to his grave saying that he didn't care if he scared Lyriel or not. She was nothing to him. Despite the ache in his chest to be near her. Despite the fierce need that he felt in order to protect him. He shoved those feelings as far down as he possibly could. If only to keep himself from ruining everything that he had built in this court. Lyriel was not going to ruin him. Lyriel was not going to be the downfall of the Spring Court.

        As of now, they were the most important court in all of Prythian. They were the ones responsible for ending Amarantha. Well, Feyre was responsible. But she belonged to Tamlin which meant she belonged to his court. He wouldn't let a soldier ruin the acclaim they had so recently received.

        The door opened. With it came the scent of stars and the woods in the middle of the night. Feyre. His Feyre.

        She waltzed into the room, Tamlin's eyes never leaving her tall, willowy frame. She stopped only feet from the table, her brow creasing slightly as she took in the Fae woman sitting in her normal spot. Feyre's eyes traveled over Lyriel's shoulders, her cleavage, and as far as she could see. He could tell she was counting each and every blade that Lyriel possessed.

        "Tam," her voice was a song that had never been sung so beautifully. A song he yearned to learn to play. "Who is this?"