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headcanonsandmore · 4 years

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“Letters to Charlie”

Summary: A selection of letters from Ron to his brother Charlie, throughout Ron's first four years at Hogwarts. Includes some mild Romione mentions.

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[1st October 1991]

Dear Charlie,

How are things at the reserve? You said in your last letter that you’ve been getting a lot more burns than normal; have you asked mum for her recipe on salves?

Anyway, I’m settling in okay at Hogwarts. Really glad I was in Gryffindor; my friend Harry was really worried about it, I think. He’s doing fine, but I wish everyone would stop gawking at him all the time. He’s a good bloke; bit quiet but, considering what his aunt and uncle seem to be like, that’s not surprising.

Also, there’s this girl in our class who’s pretty annoying. She treats everyone like they’re idiots and she’s such a teacher’s pet! Her name’s Hermione Granger, and she’s always butting in whenever me and Harry are chatting. She’s not all bad, but I wish she wouldn’t be so uptight about everything. You’d think that someone with hair that bushy would be a bit more fun-loving, but she’s very straightlaced. But I saw her laughing the other day at a joke I made, so maybe she’s not so serious all the time? She has a cute nice laugh.

Don’t tell the twins I said that, or they’ll never stop going on about it.

Anyway, hope you’re okay and that everyone at the reserve is doing fine,

Love,

Ron

[12th November 1991]

Dear Charlie,

Glad to hear that that the Common Welsh Green pair are doing okay. Things have gotten pretty weird at Hogwarts; someone (probably Peeves) let a troll into the castle at Halloween! Me and Harry had to rescue Hermione Granger from the troll; she covered for us, so we didn’t get punished. McGonagall even gave us some points for Gryffindor!

Hermione’s alright, I think. Bit intense, but she’s not as stuffy as I thought. I mean, it was kind-of my fault that she ended up getting caught by the troll, so I’m glad she didn’t hold a grudge about it. She’s always asking me about stuff, probably because she’s never grown up in a magical family. You wouldn’t think it if you saw her in class, though; she gets so many questions right and she’s apparently memorised the textbooks! Barmy, I know, but she’s alright.

Speaking of dragons, do you know if there’s any way of getting a baby one out of the country? Hagrid has a baby Norwegian Ridgeback in his house, but it’s dangerous for the baby to stay here.

Love,

Ron

[16th August 1992]

Dear Charlie,

We managed to rescue Harry from the Dursleys! Mum went mad when we got back, but no harm done. Harry’s aunt and uncle had bars put on his window! I told mum we had to get him out quick; good thing I noticed he wasn’t responding to my letters. Apparently, a house-elf was trying to stop him going back to Hogwarts; weird, right?

Hermione’s saying that she’s hoping to meet up with us in Diagon Alley; I hope so. It’ll be nice to see her again. Apparently, she’s already done all her homework, but that’s what she’s like. What do you think I should get her for her birthday? I asked Harry, but he suggested one of the textbooks (the poor bloke’s never had to buy any presents for anyone ever). I was thinking maybe some of her favourite long-lasting quills, but I’m not sure. Do you reckon I should get her something more… girly? Her best mates are two blokes, so maybe she’d like something to make it clear that I we don’t just see her as another boy? What do you think?

I’m looking forward to Hogwarts this year; hopefully, it should be a bit quieter than last year. How’s your summer been going? You mentioned about the Chinese Fireball having fang rot; has that been fixed yet, or is she still having troubles?

Hope all’s good with you,

Love,

Ron

[6th January 1993]

Dear Charlie,

You’ve probably heard the news already about the attacks happening at Hogwarts. The teachers don’t seem to know who’s doing it. Me, Harry, and Hermione have been trying to figure things out, but we haven’t got any leads lately. We thought it might have been Malfoy, but turns out he’s not doing it (still too happy about the attacks, though, the little git!).

I’m really worried about Hermione, to be honest. The attacks are always against muggle-borns and I’m scared she’s gonna be attacked. Do you know if there’s any creature that can petrify someone? I would ask the defence teacher, but Lockhart can barely tell one end of his wand from the other. Can’t see why Hermione likes him so much; can’t she see how much of a stupid twerp he is?

Like I said before, I’m really sorry about breaking your old wand. I know you said you don’t mind and you’re just glad I was okay, but still. It keeps making weird bubbles whenever I try and cast any spells. My own fault for breaking it, I guess.

Hope you’re well,

Love,

Ron

[8th May 1993]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione got attacked. She’s been stuck in the hospital wing ever since.

I’m scared. Harry’s managing to keep his head screwed on straight, but I can’t concentrate in lessons. I keep expecting Hermione to be sat next to me, and whenever I turn to look at her, I remember where she is. All pale and cold, like she’d dead or something.

What do I do, Charlie? How do I help her?

Love,

Ron

[1st June 1993]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione’s okay! The mandrake stuff finally got given to her, and she’s back to normal! I haven’t smiled this much in months! She gave me and Harry a massive hug each when she turned up in the great hall; me and her couldn’t quite look each-other in the eye afterwards, but I think we both got a bit overwhelmed, you know?

Turns out, this was also because Lucius Malfoy was trying to stop dad’s muggle protection law being passed; people could have died!

Confused as to why none of the teachers bothered to ask Myrtle, since she was a witness to the last time the chamber has been opened, but I guess we’ll never know. Were the teachers like this when you were here?

Anyway, got to go; I insisted that Hermione play some chess with me, since our exams have been cancelled (can you guess which Gryffindor was upset about that?).

Love,

Ron

[3rd September 1993]

Dear Charlie,

We’re all settling back in at Hogwarts; I’m still using those quills you got me in Egypt (thanks again, by the way). Everyone’s talking about Sirius Black, and Malfoy won’t stop being smug about how he knows something we don’t (arrogant little twerp as always).

Hermione’s cat is a bloody nightmare; he’s spent every evening trying to get at Scabbers, but Hermione won’t hear a word against him! Honestly, I don’t get why she can’t just keep the cat away when I ask her to. But she’s always had this thing about being right about everything, so it’s not unsurprising. I just wish she’d stop acting like it’s normal; Hedwig’s been around for three years, and she’s never attacked Scabbers!

Having said that, the first Hogsmeade visit is something to look forward to. It’s gonna be a bit different because Harry can’t go (his aunt and uncle refused to sign his form), but me and Hermione are going to make sure we take back lots of stuff for him so he doesn’t feel left out.

I am a little nervous about going, though; me and Hermione spend loads of time together, so why would this be any different? Probably nothing. Maybe it’s just because we’re bickering more because of our pets? Yeah, that sounds about right. I’ve already got her birthday present, so hopefully she’s not too angry at me and won’t mind me giving her a present.

Let me know how the Chinese Fireball baby is doing,

Love,

Ron

[4th January 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione just can’t keep her nose out of things! She reported Harry’s firebolt to McGonagall, and now it’s been confiscated! She says it’s because it could have been sent by Sirius Black. I know that’s a possibility, but she didn’t need to go behind Harry’s back about it!

I swear, this girl is driving me nuts!

Love,

Ron

[13th February 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Me and Hermione have made things up; she even apologised about Scabbers. She must have been really upset, because she started crying and hugged me! Is it normal to get all flustered when a girl hugs you? Cause it didn’t the same as it did when she hugged me at the end of second year.

You’ve probably heard from Hagrid about Buckbeak being executed. We’re trying to get an appeal plea sorted; it’s mostly me and Hermione doing it, since Harry’s got other stuff to worry about. It’s nice being friends with Hermione again; I hated it when we weren’t speaking. It’s still a bit awkward (we both can’t quite look each other in the eye at times), but that’s probably normal, given what’s happened.

Remember to put that salve mum made on your new scars,

Love,

Ron

[14th July 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Hope you’re enjoying the summer so far; it’ll be great to see you again, mum’s organising the room situation, so I think you’re sharing with Bill. Can’t wait for the world cup! Do you think Ireland will win against Bulgaria? I’ve been saving my pocket money all summer for it, so I can buy some souvenirs! Are you gonna bring some stories about the dragons when you get here?

Mum’s said I can invite Harry and Hermione over, and they’ll be coming to the world cup with us! It’ll be brilliant to see them again; Harry deserves a break from those horrible people he lives with, and Hermione could do with a break from work in general (she’s already finished all her summer homework, but that’s what she’s like).

It’ll be great to have both of them here for the summer; I hope Hermione doesn’t mind sharing with Ginny, since Gin’s more of a Quidditch-head than Hermione is. Mum keeps on at me to tidy my room before Hermione arrives, but it’s not as if she’s staying in my room, is it?

I did clean up my room a bit, though. Hermione’s a bit funny about mess, and I don’t want her to think I’m a slob.

See you soon,

Love,

Ron

[30th October 1994]

Dear Charlie,

I’m still angry at mum, dad, and Bill for keeping us in the dark about the Triwizard Tournament; half the other kids from wizarding families knew! Speaking of the Tournament, the students from the other schools have arrived. You won’t believe it but Viktor Krum’s a student at Durmstrang! He’s a bit grouchy looking, but I guess he gets sick of people treating him different all the time. I didn’t know he was eighteen; he looks way older. The Slytherins are trying to cosy up to him, but he’s knows exactly what they’re doing; I saw him telling a few of them off for being unpleasant to the muggle-born first years. So I guess he’s alright.

The students from Beauxbatons are all nice enough but one of the girls has some sort of Veela charm thing. Hermione keeps glaring at me whenever I get caught in it, but it’s hardly my fault, is it? Harry gets affected too, but does she yell at him? No, of course she doesn’t. I swear, Hermione’s been weird ever since the term started; the other week I caught her staring at my hands for no reason. She got all flustered when she saw I’d noticed, and yelled at me to concentrate on my work. I’m worried about her. Did that ever happen between you and your friends at school? Is this something that happens around our age? I know that mum said things start to change after you get into your teenage years.

Speaking of change, I hope I can get some new dress robes before I ever have to wear these ones. Do you think Bill has any old ones he can let me borrow? I don’t get why mum didn’t just remove the lace and change the colour. I was going to ask Hermione to do it, but I don’t want her to think I’m whining. I just wish I could have some decent robes like all the other boys have. I know money’s tight at the moment, but even the twins have got alright-looking robes to wear I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t stuck wearing rubbishy clothes for once.

Apparently, the tournaments due to start tomorrow evening. Me and Harry did have a think about entering, but it’s probably too high security. Fred and George said they’re gonna enter, because they turn seventeen in April, so they won’t need to use much aging potion. Should be interesting to see whether they succeed. I just hope we get a decent Hogwarts champion; Cedric Diggory’s alright, but half the girls get giggly over him and it’s bloody annoying. Hermione says it’s because he’s a prefect, but she’s a bit funny like that. If I ever end up a prefect, I bet I wouldn’t have girls giggling and getting flustered about me.

Got to go now; Hermione said she wants to go over our Transfiguration homework in the common room.

Love,

Ron

[25th November 1994]

Dear Charlie,

You should have told me you’d be here for the first task! I know it was secret, but it would have been nice to catch up! Glad the trip over was safe and that the dragons are all okay. That Hungarian Horntail was a nasty piece of work; Harry almost got hit by it!

Speaking of which, me and Harry are best mates again. I’m glad; it was miserable when we weren’t speaking. Funnily enough, he said he didn’t even need an apology; just told me to forget about it. Weird bloke, but it’s great to be friends with him again. Hermione got all teary and told us we were being stupid, but she’s never really understood things like this, so there you go.

Love,

Ron

[17th December 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Glad to hear the dragons got safely back to Romania with no issues. I almost wish I was there instead; ever since this ball thing got announced, half the school’s gone mad about it. Everyone’s asking everyone to it, and I don’t get it. Why can’t we all just go as friends and have fun? But the boys keep going on about dates, so I said I best go with someone good-looking. Yes, I know it’s dumb, but how else will I get everyone to not laugh at my robes? I even asked McGonagall if I could go in my school ones, but she insisted that I use my official dress robes (although she did look sympathetic while she said it, so I guess she understood where I was coming from).

Flitwick’s doing alterations to people’s robes, but he was so swamped with requests that there isn’t any room for me to get mine changed. I swear, I can’t wait until the ball is done and I won’t have to worry about this stuff anymore.

I’d happily stay behind in Gryffindor Tower with the first, second and third years, but I can’t leave Harry in the lurch. He’s got to be there to open the ball, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave him on his own; the poor bloke isn’t good with crowds, especially since half of the school still gawks at his scar every day.

Hermione doesn’t seem to take much interest in the ball, so maybe she’s also planning on staying behind. She got angry at me when I mentioned about going with a pretty girl, which is understandable (it was a dumb thing to say). Hopefully, she’ll have forgiven me by the time Christmas swings around, and we can just go and have fun at the ball. Just as friends, obviously. Maybe if we’re having a laugh, I won’t have to think about my robes looking so awful.

Love,

Ron

[27th December 1994]

Dear Charlie,

I swear, if I ever have to go to another ball again, it’ll be too soon! Hermione’s still angry at me about it; which makes sense, since I was a bit of an arse. But, well, she went with Krum! Seriously, he’s eighteen and she’s barely fifteen! Why didn’t any of the teachers think that was creepy? Why was I the only person who got irritated by it? Is it really so bad that I don’t want my friend being pursued by some creepy eighteen-year-old git? I know what the twins are saying about it, but it’s alright for them, isn’t it? They had decent robes and could actually ask a girl without the girl glaring at them like they’d only just realised the girl was a girl! Gits. They don’t get it.

Ginny had a nice time with Neville, at the very least. Neville’s a good bloke, and I’m glad he treated her well. Apparently, she borrowed a dress off a friend for the ball. I wish I was shorter so I could have just borrowed something off Harry; that would have at least made things a bit easier. Then I wouldn’t have already been a bad mood before we even got to the ball.

Seriously, I’m never wearing those robes again. I don’t care what mum says, I’d rather go in my normal school ones that those frilly disasters.

Me and Hermione are being more polite to each other than normal, which is probably for the best. I hate the fact that I got so angry at her, but I’ve learnt now to not act like that again. I mean, considering she got Krum, I don’t think she’ll need to worry about me acting like that again. It wasn’t as if she even said she wanted to go with me, either; how was I supposed to know? I’m not a mind-reader!

Hope your Christmas is going better than mine, and thank you for the burn-proof socks; they’ll come in handy against the Skrewts.

Love,

Ron

[27th February 1995]

Dear Charlie,

It was nice getting some of the limelight for a while; everyone was asking me about what it was like during the second task. I even had Padma Patil hanging on to my every word about it; I even managed to apologise to her properly for being such a berk at the ball (she was my dance partner, but we didn’t do any dancing). She seemed pretty okay with it.

Fleur Delacour (you remember, the champion who used the calming charm on her dragon in the first task) is being very nice lately; I think she got the impression me and Harry helped saved her sister in the second task. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek after we were all out of the lake! It’s nice to get attention from girls for a change.

Funnily enough, Hermione get glaring at me for the rest of the day. Funny how it’s fine for her to get attention from boys (that creep Krum had her as the person he’d miss the most; they’ve only been to the Yule ball together, the pervy git!), but I can’t do so much as talk to other girls without getting the cold treatment from her. Barmy as ever, but that’s what she’s like.

I think Harry’s really happy about the tournament just having one task left; at this point, I just hope he gets through it with no injuries or anything. Poor bloke’s had another rough year, and I hope he can take it easy after this is all over.

I wonder what I’ll get for my birthday this year. You think Hermione will get me anything? She’s so irritable lately that I wouldn’t be surprised if she just gets me a card and some chocolate frogs. Given what’s happened between us lately, that sounds about as much as I can hope for.

At least we’re still friends, though. I’m not that much of an idiot that I’d stop talking to her over this. I almost lost one friend this year; I don’t want the same thing happening with Hermione.

Love,

Ron

[29th June 1995]

Dear Charlie,

Harry left the hospital wing a few days ago. Me and Hermione are trying to help him as best we can, but the poor bloke still’s struggling. I’m not surprised, considering what he went through.

Dumbledore’s said that things are already changing. I just hope he knows what to do. But he’s still saying that Harry needs to go back to the Dursleys this summer. I hope we can pick him up as soon as possible; Harry’s relatives are bloody horrible.

After the third task, me and Hermione stayed up in the common room. We’ve both said we’re gonna help Harry with whatever happens in future. She also hugged me before she went to bed. It was different this time. It seemed like neither of us wanted to let go.

Stay safe,

Love,

Ron

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

#harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #ron weasley #charlie weasley #tw: food mention #tw: insecurities #tw: mental health #character study #pre-romione #romione #ronmione

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 5 years

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HPHM Patronus Headcanons

We all have one, and we all have ideas for what the characters would have. Let me know what you guys think too! Rakepick isn’t listed because we already know her Patronus, and I’m probably going to talk about OCs in a different post, or else I’ll add them later once I’ve finally made up my mind.

Rowan Khanna - Aardvark

I’m not the only one who sees it, right? Our wonderful Rowan is quirky and inventive and if they were a wild animal, they’d employ such brilliance and like the aardvark, devise a unique way to catch their food. On a more somber note, Aardvarks are nocturnal and they aren’t pack animals - making them a good symbol for a kid who preferred to stay inside and read rather than help with the farm, a kid who really didn’t have that many friends beyond the people they knew by association to MC. Still, aardvarks are weirdly adorable and if you tell me you wouldn’t pet one, you would be a liar.

Ben Copper - Field Mouse

A small creature that is able and hide very easily, definitely suits a character who was, for such a long time, very timid. A character who knew how to cover his tracks - whether or not he was using such abilities for shady reasons. Mice normally symbolize innocence and modesty, but they’ve also been seen as unlucky before. In more traditional times they were seen as symbols of dark magic, or even the underworld - since they could often carry disease, were hard to capture, and usually came from the ground. Mice do have that dark side, and so does Ben - we’ve seen it in Year Six, and he’s definitely still hiding something. That was never really resolved.

Penny Haywood - Mourning Dove

This one is pretty easy. Doves have always been seen as a fundamental symbol of innocence. A messenger that comes to banish worried or troubled thoughts, and usher in goodness in their wake. Penny is nothing if not a force for good. Characters like Merula have even lamp-shaded how irritating it is. However, the Mourning Dove in particular is known for it’s melancholy call, invoking the symbolism of losing a loved one. Between Scarlett and Beatrice, Penny has demonstrated that however helpful she is to her friends, she doesn’t know how to deal with her own serious problems. She’s a hopeful, caring person...but there’s a distinct sadness blended in as well. When someone innocent is hurt, the pain is that much worse for them.

Beatrice Haywood - Chameleon

Beatrice seems to be a person that absorbs a lot from the people she looks up to or associates with. Not just in personality, but in physical appearance too. In Year Five, by her own admission, she was a “Mini Penny” and in Year Six, she takes after Ismelda quite a bit. Chameleons are of course, known for their ability to blend in with their surroundings. It’s their claim to fame. What’s more, the Labord’s Chameleon hatches after the parents have already died, meaning they have to make it without any support from the grownups. Not that Beatrice doesn’t have support, but...the teachers/staff have failed to protect her in the past, and she’s well aware of that.

Merula Snyde - Cat

Oh, she is such a cat. Few characters come close to being as cat-like as Merula. From her haughty and arrogant nature tying in to how people often see felines, to her actually being very lonely and desperate for love. If you’ve never had a cat, then believe me, they want your attention - it’s just that most of the time they refuse to admit it. Merula is the same way. Because of her upbringing, she seems to gravitate toward being a predator animal, or at least wanting to be one. But also the kind of predator that would play with it’s food and make a game out of it. Think of it this way - given Merula’s background, she wouldn’t know what a laser pointer is. And with her stand-offish personality, she would totally try to investigate it like a little cat.

Bill Weasley - Koala

The Koala Totem is said to symbolize a gentle nature, and give a calming effect on people. Bill isn’t just the oldest brother to all the Weasleys - he looks out for everyone in the Cursed Vault gang. In general, Koalas are social and easy-going animals who have been known to represent kindness and family. They’re also known for being inactive - which I wouldn’t say that Bill is, but despite his Big-Bro energy, he never really tries to stop MC and their friends when they’re getting into mischief. He didn’t stop Harry from trying to make a deal with Griphook either. He just kinda lets people do their own thing most of the time, or comes along if he’s invited.

Charlie Weasley - Dragon

What can I say? I couldn’t resist. Sure, it may be unlikely that he would actually have a Dragon for a Patronus, but we do know that such a form is possible. Just very rare. Well you know what? This wonderful cinnamon roll has earned it. Doesn’t mean he would summon a full-grown dragon on his first attempt though.There’s a head-canon I’ve seen that I really like, which says that Animagus/Patronus forms can sometimes start as babies, and “grow” the better at them you get. Alternatively, his Patronus could literally just be a baby dragon. As for the breed, I’ll leave that open to interpretation, but I’m gonna say Norwegian Ridgeback.

Skye Parkin - Hyena

Frequently scavengers, and often seen as cowardly - Hyenas are still vicious and are typically able to claim the kill. Sometimes even driving off larger predators and stealing their hard earned prey. Which is exactly the kind of dishonorable thing Skye would do. She seems to believe strongly in her “pack” or her team, and depend on them to have her back even when she’s getting into nonsense. Traditionally, the Hyena is also seen as secular, with it’s constant laugh being an act of defiance. Skye is a cheerful person most of the time...but she has shown that she has little regard for rules or authority figures that are not her Dad.

Murphy Mcnully - Bottle-nose Dolphin

Dolphins are interesting. They have a reputation for being very sweet and excitable, but they can often be...shall we say, rude or invasive. I love Murphy to bits, but he doesn’t always know how to read a room, and he’s entirely open about his bias toward MC’s team - even more-so than Lee Jordan. That being said, Dolphins are social, playful, and intelligent creatures. With unusual abilities like echolocation, they certainly match Murphy in his quirky brilliance. They’re caring, helpful creatures that will actually aid other animals in need, including humans. Even though Murphy isn’t actually a player on MC’s Quidditch team, he might as well be.

Orion Amari - Elephant

Orion is such a wonderful character. He might be an oddball, but he’s truly wise beyond his years. Elephants not only represent wisdom, but have been known to symbolize loyalty, sensitivity, peace, stability...all the great qualities that Orion embodies. They’re known for taking care of the herd, just as Orion looks after his team. They might be a little quirky, with their large ears and trunks that most other animals don’t have...but Orion is quirky as well. Some say that with their trunks down, Elephants are accumulating positive energy to push through their trials, which takes me back to the scene where Orion gives MC Quidditch robes. I cry every time.

Erika Rath - Lion

To be clear, a male lion. I know that a lioness can be interpreted differently, and we already have a character with that Patronus. No, Erika is a pack leader. Even if she’s not the Captain of her team, they seem to depend very heavily on her. She’s also ferocious. I mean, tell me with a straight face that you could take her in a fight, or that you’d ever want to. A full grown male lion lives by the code that ass-kicking equals authority, even if they don’t want to. Furthermore, the Lion and the Hyena tend to be natural enemies. Sure, a lion could take a hyena in a one-on-one fight...but what if the Hyena had it’s pack for backup? We’ve all seen Lion King...and we’ve seen how Skye has targeted Erika.

Barnaby Lee - Brown Bear

Barnaby is a man of brawn, not brain, and that’s totally fine because is also a man of heart. He’s already pretty much a bear in human form. Ranging from sweet and dopey in modern media, like Winnie the Pooh, to being seen as warriors and symbols of courage in mythology- the Brown Bear captures all of the very best parts of our favorite Slytherin cinnamon roll. He’s a gentle giant, but as we see in Year Three, he’ll jump into action to protect those he cares about the same way coming near a mama bear’s cubs will act as her berserk button. I would say the Bear really symbolizes his character arc in Year Three.

Andre Egwu - Satin Bowerbird

This is still my favorite head-canon about Andre and you can pry it from my cold dead hands. The bowerbird, aside from being a bird and thus connecting to Quidditch - is a creature named for the “Bower” that the males build. A structure that can be made of anything from sticks to flowers to random human garbage, that they create specifically to show off to potential mates. It’s not a nest, and they don’t use it as one. It’s exclusively for mating. The Bowerbird has a sense of fashion, and it understands how to score a date. Tell me this isn’t Andre’s favorite animal. I mean it could also be the Peacock, but that’s just too obvious.

Tulip Karasu - Jackal

I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, but this animal is perfect for the rebellious Ravenclaw. Let’s start with the fact that in the bible, Jackals represent isolation, loneliness, and abandonment. It’s okay Tulip, I’m sure she’ll forgive you one day. Then there’s the fact that they howl to establish territory, not unlike the way Tulip guards her findings with little padlocks. They’re usually seen as opportunistic, to the point where calling someone a jackal tends to them being collaborator with a sneaky or mischievous agenda. In folktales, they’re depicted as intelligent and cunning pranksters - which is just checkmate, if you ask me. Even the Jackal’s coloring kinda suits her.

Ismelda Murk - Anaconda

Like the Snake, and the Hogwarts House that carries it as an emblem, Ismelda is a misunderstood person - but that doesn’t mean she isn’t dangerous. Much like how there are stories of Anacondas eating people, that have never been verified...Ismelda talks a big game, but has never actually used the Dark Arts. A snake sheds it’s skin, just as Ismelda seems to have shed any connection to her sister, or even the rest of her family. In particular, the Anaconda is actually beloved by cultures in South America, and it was once common to sacrifice one in the name of a happy marriage...of course, that’s a pretty raw deal for the Anaconda, and I can’t help but see Ismelda as a sacrifice for the sake of her sister.

Liz Tuttle - Tortoise

As fun as it might have been to just choose a lizard and be done with it, I think a Tortoise represents Liz far better. In so many ways, it’s the ultimate symbol of patience, endurance, and persistence. If Ismelda meets all the criteria of the Slytherin stereotype - Liz is the opposite. She’s one of the most resilient characters, having to work against people thinking she’s odd, people not trusting her because she’s in Slytherin, and people generally being at odds with her belief that all creatures deserve protection. It’s not only the Hufflepuffs that care for magical critters, and Liz proves that. The Tortoise represents her decency, and her steadfast attitude. What’s more, Tortoises tend to have very long lifespans. And if Liz can face off against chimeras and come out of it unscathed...she’s gonna live a long, long life.

Talbott Winger - Golden Eagle

I doubt I need to explain this one. In the past, Animagi have been show to transform into the same animal as their Patronus. It hasn’t been confirmed that this is a rule or anything, but it applied to James and McGonagall. Besides, an eagle just suits Talbott. He’s a dreamer, a drifter, and he’s got his head in the clouds. But he also knows how to fight - having been forced to leave the nest far too early. Birds of prey generally represent victory, courage, and overcoming adversity. Which Talbott does - he’s learning to let his walls down. Taking the first steps toward accepting the losses that he’s suffered, and moving on.

Chiara Lobosca - Labrador

Supposedly cats, dogs, and birds are the most common animals to have as a Patronus. Which makes sense, but if anyone out there was truly a dog, it would be Chiara. Between her self-sacrificing loyalty to Remus, to her protective instincts in shielding MC from Greyback, she is the physical embodiment of the “we don’t deserve dogs” sentiment. As sweet as she is, she’s also quiet, so I figured a large dog was more appropriate, especially a Lab. What’s more, she’s interested in Healing, and that reminds me of service dogs. Or even just dogs that can sense when their human is sick, and gives them therapeutic cuddles.

Jae Kim - Raccoon

An inventive, practical animal - the Raccoon is known for having paws with defined fingers that allow them to do most things with their “hands” and that’s actually where the word “raccoon” comes from. I feel like the Racoon’s elusive ways and their nature as scavengers pretty closely reflects Jae and his business. Raccoons are frequently associated with adaptability and illusion. Their ringed tails and masked faces being seen as signs of thievery. But you know what? These animals are far more friendly then media would have you assume. I know from personal experience. So I think a character like Jae who is shady and skirts the law, but is ultimately a good guy, would fit the raccoon well.

Badeea Ali - Owl

Despite the magical community’s affinity for them, Owls are said to be highly rare as Patronuses, according to Pottermore. Most people don’t have them, but I think she would. I don’t think it would suit anyone better than the elusive, creative Badeea. They tend to represent wisdom, good judgment, and knowledge. It’s sharp vision representing insight and observational skills. Only a truly clever witch could be a spell inventor at this age. What’s more, Owls are an integral part of the Wizarding lifestyle. They’re constantly helpful. MC would not have survived the nightmare that was the Peeves Chapters in Year Five if not for their most mystical friend.

Diego Caplan - Grebe

If you know anything about Grebes as birds, then you might not be too surprised. Then again, I hadn’t even heard of them until recently, but when I did I thought “Diego.” They’re waterfowls that are related to flamingos. But the Grebes have an entire ceremony dedicated to mating, which involves intricate dancing. They compete with each other for a female’s attention. I’m not saying Diego is jealous of Cedric cause he has a thing for Penny - all I’m saying is that Diego is jealous of Cedric because he has a thing for Penny. Beyond that, Grebes symbolize fearlessness and perseverance in Native American culture, supposedly bringing a calm, peaceful presence.

And that’s it! I did it, I actually did it! I didn’t think I’d make it this far. And if you did as well, thanks for checking it out. I’d love to know what you think!

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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Several of my stories have mentioned Canbe, a mortal living in the Borderland of Nightmare with the Lamia Flowering Ash. This is the tale of how they met.

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The Day After Nightmare Night

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2284 words

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

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I really should have known better. It was the day AFTER Nightmare Night. Morgan and I were out strolling around, looking at the remaining decorations and assorted minor pranks that had been played.

Sawnax's Lumber Yard office had got it by at least two or three pranksters. It was covered in ribbons of cheap toilet paper and the windows had been painted over with egg whites and liberally dusted with dirt. It was understandable, if not really excusable. He was always too cheap to put out a Foal Bowl.

Passing Caramel Treat's Sweets, we saw that Ponyville's genuine werewolf was still in the form of the gigantic Everfree Ridgeback Wolf that was her when she was not a pony. Smiling, she was passing out treats to any who were still in costume.

A good many foals knew of her habit and were lined up, chanting, “Nightmare Night has passed away! Now it is Nightmare Day! Please give us something sweet to bite, to celebrate the daylight!”

She was happily giving treats out and posing for pictures with the assorted little ghouls, alicorns, very phony deer, liches, and witches.

We watched for a little and went on our way.

It was not long before we were passing the shoulder high stone wall of the Ponyville Cemetery. We found a perfectly lovely and unusual gray mare staring at us, over the wall. She smiled, keeping her lips shut, and said with mild humor, “So, looking over the wall between life and death?”

“Sort of,” Morgan replied. “Canbe and I are out looking at all of the assorted pranks that have been pulled, that's all.”

She kept pace with us, she on the inside, and we out. Her head swayed in a sort of undulating way, instead of bobbing a little, like a pony's usually does.

She offered, “Are you just looking, or are you doing anything to help fix the pranks? I am not sure why, but some ponies think that it is fun to mess up the graveyard. Do they think that they will disturb the rest of those who have passed beyond life or are they trying to upset the living by knocking over or wrecking grave markers?”

Actually looking across the wall, at something besides the lovely mare's head and shapely neck, I commented, “I don't see any damage here. What happened?”

Sadly, she replied, “You can't see it from here. There is a really ancient part of the cemetery. Nopony knows how old it is. It is far older than Ponyville. It has crypts, tombs, mausoleums and markers that nopony around here now knows how to read. It is over the hill, there, where those big trees show their tops.”

She pointed to an area that I had never paid attention to before.

I sort of shook my head in surprise. “I did not even know that those trees were in the cemetery! Old stones that nobody can read? That sounds really neat, actually. If I come to help you, would you mind if I made some rubbings of those stones? Maybe a scholar like Twilight Sparkle could read them.”

The gray mare raised her eybrows in polite surprise. “That would be a true boon, if she could. So many old things are simply forgotten.”

Morgan snorted, “Never could figure out why anypony bothers with history! Basically, it is a pack of lies told by the winners to make them look better than they were!”

The gray mare gave Morgan a disturbed look. “That is partly true. The truth of what did happen can often be found out. It is the best understanding of the past that can serve to guide you and help you to avoid the mistakes that your ancestors made.”

Bitterly Morgan snapped back, “I was one of those 'mistakes' that somepony made! I was abandoned on the steps of the Ponyville Orphanage without even a note! I don't want to know who my mother or dad was!”

Morgan rudely turned his rump and stomped off.

The lovely gray mare turned to me and gave me a beseeching look. “Will you come to help us? We cannot undo the work of the vandals alone.”

I shrugged and opened the gate. Entering I offered, “Sure, why not? What is to fear now that it is broad daylight?”

The mare had hidden behind a large stone monument. She pointed a shapely foreleg and hoof skyward. “That is a common misconception. So long as the Moon of Nightmare remains in the sky, we can be abroad. That, I fear may tell you who you are coming to help.

“I will guarantee your safety if you do come to help us do what we cannot do ourselves alone.”

I paused to think over this development. “I will make you a small deal, my sweet pony. Show me yourself. If you are an undead, as you have said, and guarantee my safety, I will aid you as well as I can to fix what the vandals have damaged.”

She nodded gracefully and slithered out from behind the stone. Her body, from the navel back, was that of a huge serpent. “As you can see, I am a Lamia. Had I not guaranteed your safety, I could easily crush and rend you. You may still leave and I will thank you for even considering giving aid to such as I.”

I kind of shivered all over but gamely offered, “Lead the way, my Lady Lamia. I am known as Canbe.”

She led me across the hill. If I remembered correctly, the back wall of the cemetery was down the hill only a little ways. Before we got to where the wall should be, I noticed that the Lamia cast no shadow from the light of the sun. She did, however, cast a shadow. It was from the light of the moon, still in the sky, though getting low.

We passed under the trees without coming to the cemetery wall. Long streamers of moss like stuff hung from branches that almost seemed to move of their own volition. The foliage of them was a far darker green than it had appeared when seen from the street in Ponyville. It almost looked black. That was when I noticed that nothing here, not even me, cast any shadow but one from the full Moon of Nightmare which was now at zenith, rather than nearly set.

I nearly fled when I noticed that. My promise held me.

I was led to a fallen obelisk about two or two and a half meters long. I saw the marks where it had been pried from its base. I pointed out, “I cannot lift this, it is too heavy for me.”

Several voices replied, “We can lift it if you will help us. Lay your mortal hooves on it and keep them on it until we have restored the stone to its place. This work takes the cooperation of both the mortal and those beyond.”

As I laid hooves to it, a little past the center, the stone was seized by hooves of several undead sorts. I did try to help with the lift, but it was the strength of those ponies who were long past the grave who actually did most of it. As the stone was properly replaced, the break appeared to simply vanish. The stone stood tall and proud again.

As we were walking to the next damaged monument, I stumbled on a fallen slab of stone. A simple grave stone. I paused and asked, “What about this one? It has fallen too.”

The Lamia looked back and replied, “True, it has. Time did that, not vandals. You agreed to help us to undo the vandalism. This goes past your agreement.”

I sort of surprised myself by replying, as I scraped at the moss grown stone to get a better grip, “Not quite so, my lady Lamia. Time is the greatest vandal of all. Let us set to rights all that we can. Even the simplest grave deserves to be remembered.”

The many undead here all looked at me thoughtfully and agreed, “What he wants to do goes beyond our agreement. We should do the same for him.” If appearance was any guide, faces that had not smiled since they died smiled in agreement.

As we were lifting the stone back up to standing in a well dug socket hole, one of the liches actually shed a tear. He stated, “This stone and grave are mine. Thank you, Mortal.”

I think that the others were astounded when I held his apparently rotting body and said, “You are welcome. Now I am doubly glad that we did it for you.”

We all went on, from grave to crypt to mausoleum fixing and setting things to rights. If I could touch even so much as a rotting bit of an ancient oaken and iron bound door, some one among them was able to make it whole again. We even did the same for the decayed remains of coffins in the ancient crypts.

It did take a long time to do. I was bone tired at the end of our labor. Not hungry. Not thirsty. Proud. The ancient necropolis was now well tended and all was as it ought to be.

I looked up. The Moon of Nightmare was unchanged in the sky. It was still at its zenith.

My lovely Lamia saw my glance and spoke softly, “Our lives spring from and are ruled by Her. The Princess of the Night. We may be of the Nightmare Realm but our Ruler is not without compassion.

“We did notice something about you as you helped us to restore our ancient homes. Not only did you not shrink from us, going so far as to give comfort and share happiness with a zombie, you appear to like us. Is that true?”

That sort of opened up my eyes. I had been getting along with these once living beings far better than I ever had with any living ponies. It just took Lamia's question to make me notice it!

I nodded sort of slowly as it sank in. “That is true, my lovely Lamia. If there was some way to stay with you, my friends, and keep this gift of helping you all, I would have no desire to return to ponies who do not care about me at all.”

The Lamia stood up, supported by her elegantly coiled snake body and said softly, “My name, Canbe, is Flowering Ash. You have asked a boon of Our Princess of the Night and we in no way forced you to it or tricked it from you.

“Do you truly ask of Princess Luna, Ruler of the Night, Harbinger of Dreams and Sometimes the True Embodiment of All Nightmare, the boon to stay with us, keeping the ability to aid us in preserving our places of rest, our homes?”

I did not hesitate, “If it can be done, Flowering Ash, I do ask that boon of Princess Luna.”

There grew a shadow on the Moon of Nightmare overhead. Gliding down to a landing as silent as a dream was Princess Luna. She alighted before me and smiled.

“Canbe, I have favorably heard your request. You are a creature of the Day. A pony who grew up under the sway of my Sister, Celestia. Would you renounce her to fulfill your request?”

I thought carefully and she gave me the time to do it. “Princess Luna, you and your Sister Celestia are two parts of a whole. I had not heard that you two are in contest.”

I gathered the lovely Flowering Ash on one side and the zombie whose grave I had restored on the other into a hug. Still holding them, I went on, “Knowing that you two Sisters are not in contest, I will willingly do whatever is necessary to fulfill my request.”

Princess Luna bowed her horn to just touch my forelock. A fine wisp of midnight magic, shot through with stars flowed between us.

She straightened and proclaimed, “Canbe, as the subject of us both, Myself and my sister Celestia, you may stay here with your friends. Here, you will retain your Mortal Gift to aid them. Here, you will not age. Here, you will not hunger. Here, you will not thirst. When you do much, as with this night's labor, you will tire. A little rest will cure that.

“You may leave here and return at will but only through the Ponyville Cemetery. While you are away, you will age. While away, you will hunger. While away, you will thirst. While away, you will tire from labor as you always have.

“You have chosen more wisely than you know.”

With that, Princess Luna spread her huge wings and made a powerhouse of a downstroke. She flew up, seemingly to the Moon of Nightmare.

Luna alighted on a patio of the Palace of Canterlot and trotted into the Dining hall. There she found Princess Celestia happily munching on chocolate topped donuts.

Princess Celestia's snicker suddenly turned to a stricken look as she saw Luna's expression!

With a grin that showed her perfect teeth, Luna reported, “I WON!

“Canbe did NOT renounce me when he was put in with those Nightmares! Most interestingly, he chose to STAY with them but he was clever enough not to renounce YOU either!

“Now pay up!”

Luna hoofed over a substantially sized tray.

Glumly, Princess Celestia began to pile on tan topped pastries. She returned the tray to Luna with a sad, “Farewell, my butterscotch treats!”

~~THE END~~

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#THE DAY AFTER NIGHTMARE NIGHT #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

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fantasyscribblings · 5 years

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Lunny Drabble - Elope

Here is yet another drabble. This time another favourite pairing of mine. Ginny/Luna!

Please Enjoy!!!

Lunny - Elope

Charlie watched with a smirk as his sister continued pacing before the mirror, pausing every other pass to look at her reflection, her hands twisting together.

“Would you calm down? You’re going to wear a hole through my carpet.” He said with a chuckle as she paused once more, his eyes catching hers in the mirrors reflection.

She huffed, pursing her lips together before she turned and walked over, sitting on the bed next to him and groaning as she held her head in her hands.

“I can’t help it. I keep expecting a howler to fly through the window at any moment, if Mum knew. If she ever finds out…” She started, heading towards a far too familiar tangent that he’d heard her begin many times that night.

“Ginny, it’s going to be fine. Why do you think that I suggested it? I know that back home Mum has been driving both you and Luna up a tree with all of her wedding planning. Why do you think I was the one to… suggest coming here to have the two of you assist us with our newest nest of Ridgebacks? I knew that you needed a break.” He said, resting a hand on her back as she lifted her head slightly, looking at him via the mirror across from them.

“I know Mum means well, but with Fred’s death, I can only imagine how much she’s been looking for further distractions. Bill’s sent me more than a few letters on how Fleur is reaching her last nerve with Mum’s ‘suggestions’ regarding raising Victoire. Not to mention poor Ron and Hermione with their own recent engagement. It simply makes sense that she would become hyper-fixated on your engagement to Luna.” He explained, causing her to roll her eyes and flop back onto the bed with a groan.

“It’s not just that! She’s on me for going professional with Quidditch. She’s on me for even thinking about maybe being an auror some day. Then there’s the wedding! She refuses to allow me to wear anything beyond a fluffy frilly dress, and any suggestion I have is near shot down!” She groaned, gesturing wildly with her arms from her position on the bed.

As far as she was concerned, her mother was displeased with her only daughter. After all she’d given birth to five rowdy boys, one Percy, and then a daughter just as rowdy as her brothers, if not slightly more.

She had been a rebel, a revolutionary, a brilliant quidditch player, an ace student, and so much more. Yet, instead of staying with Harry, the pair of them had realized that after the war, they just weren’t right for each other. Which, she only viewed as another negative check in her mother’s eyes. After all, she had badgered her for nearly a year, asking them both non-stop if they were ‘sure’.

What she failed to understand was that Ginny’s affections for him had changed through the years, in the end, he was another of her brothers.

While Luna, she had been Ginny’s saving grace during their Seventh year, and then beyond. She’d gotten to know her, to see the beauty and brilliance behind the girl that most others chose to ignore. They had grown close during that year, and Ginny had fallen head over heels for her.

Five years they had been together, five blissful years, where everyone was healing from the war. Then Ginny had mustered the nerve, spent months searching for the right ring, before finding one while taking a long walk through a lesser travelled part of Muggle London.

She’d gotten down on one knee proper, after a win with the Harpies, and opened a small wooden box fastened out of a Walnut shell, revealing a rose-gold ring woven to look like a vine, wrapped around a beautiful white sapphire that shone like a full moon.

Ever since then the prophet had been alive with rumours of their relationship, of drama between her and Harry. (Not to mention his own relationship with none other than Draco Malfoy, which had been a completely different sort of drama…)

Her Mother though, well, Molly Weasley had taken over as many wedding preparations as possible, often clashing with Xenophilius over some small detail or the other.

After six months both Ginny and Luna had been driven near mad by the sheer number of times that their moments of silence had been interrupted by an owl from Molly, or from Xenophilius Flooing into their apartment with some various swatch of fabric, and story on how it was to ward off something or other.

So, when Charlie had owled them about needing their help in Romania, both had jumped at the opportunity. They found themselves staying with Charlie (who had ended up dating Krum of all people, the talented Quidditch player taking an internship at the Dragon sanctuary shortly after his graduation from Durmstrang). A few days in, while the four of them had been flying over to see the Dragon’s one evening, Charlie had been the first to bring up the scandalous idea.

“How about instead of fighting Mum, you give in? At least, for the grand wedding she wants. Meanwhile, one of the handlers here, Monique she can marry you two. Got her certification while training to be a Healer a few years back. It’s bound to take some of the stress off. You can have a private ceremony, wear what you want, and none will be the wiser.” Krum nodded in agreement, weaving between the two as they lazily flew over the thick forests below.

Ginny had gaped at him, while Luna had gone silent, looking to the ground below as she seemed to lose herself in thought.

“Are you mad? If anyone found out that the wedding was a farce, if mum found out we went behind her back-” Ginny started, her voice rising as she imagined the fury that her mother could muster.

“It wouldn’t really be a farce…” Luna said softly, and Ginny looked over, confusion bright in her eyes.

“What-”

“Well, if we choose to marry here first... that would be just for us. A chance for us to be ourselves, without needing to make anyone else happy. You can wear dress robes, we can get married outside. Meanwhile, we continue to have our bigger wedding back home, to make everyone else happy, especially our parents. No matter what, the love between us is still there, and we can even have a secret anniversary. Everyone wins, really.”

Luna had always been good at that, breaking through Ginny’s stronger impulses, and getting straight to the point. Even when she was speaking of her creatures, Ginny understood her better than anyone else. She gave Ginny hope, and helped her see the magical in the mundane.

After their flight, the plan had been set in motion, and two days later the two women had been separated between Krum and Charlie, the two getting ready for a small peaceful ceremony together.

Charlie had even taken Ginny dress robe shopping, and she’d found a right dapper one to wear. A black robe with red and brown accents that matched both her team colours, and her house colours. One that would have scandalized her traditional mother, but suited the tomboy perfectly.

She sat up - looking to her reflection once more, her long hair swept back into a complicated sort of braid, flowers and snitch pendants woven artistically through the pleats. She stood up and looked to Charlie, sighing as she said, “Okay, you’re right. Luna’s right… I’m ready. Consequences be damned.”

Charlie grinned, standing up and taking her in a tight hug before the pair apparated to the clearing where the wedding was to be sent.

Ginny gasped as she caught sight of the small group of people by the Handler Monique who would be joining her and Luna together. Ron and Hermione were chatting casually with Harry, while Draco seemed to be having a civil chat with both Neville and Bill.

Fleur brightened as she caught sight of them, gripping at Bill’s arm who looked over and grinned at the look on his sister’s face.

“Come on, did you really think we’d miss this? Don’t worry, Mum thinks we’re out having dinner. George is watching Victoire while Percy has no idea. Plus, we couldn’t miss this.” He said, grinning as she ran over and gave him a hug.

After a moment caught catching up, near everyone took their seats, sitting on small stone benches overlooking the gondola where Ginny and Luna were to be wed. Hermione remained by Ginny’s side, while Harry waited on the opposite side, prepared to stand by Luna.

She appeared in a snap, removing her arm from where it had been looped with Krums.

She didn’t seem to notice anyone else in the area as she caught sight of Ginny, a bright smile coming to her eyes and face.

Ginny’s breath was stolen away from her by the sight of Luna. Her dress was a brilliant silver - sleeveless, and the skirt moved like a river as she walked up towards her. Upon her shoulders, and cascading down her back was a lacey, cape-like shawl, dark blue and decorated in millions of silver stars that twinkled magically in the dusk light. She had silver earrings that changed as well, going translucent as they went through the cycles of the moon.

Luna walked up the few stairs, nodding to Harry before turning to smile at Ginny, taking her hand as she said, “Are you ready, my love?”

Ginny nodded, giving Luna’s hand a gentle squeeze as she thought about the beautiful and bright future before her. “For you? Always.”

#lunny #linny #linny fanfic #luna lovegood #luna x ginny #ginny weasley #ginny x luna #dreamy redhead #hp ficlet #hp fic #hp drabble

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recklessrex · 4 years

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45 - Herman and Munks (again it doesn't need to be canonically, but I need to see them having a conversation)

Okay. So. The other prompts I've done so far could all technically work in the continuity of my Cats headcanon, but they mostly serve as one-shots.

But this one ended up tying directly into the "Isle of Storms" arc in my overall timeline of Cats narrative headcanon fic thingy, and actually serves as a nice introduction to that setting. You don't need to know anything about the Isle of Storms before reading.

Beware: Long Fic

45 - “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

Munkustrap had never been to this part of the island before. The northeastern shore was so different from the coves and pretty little beaches to the west, and the marina and urban ruins with their expansive beach to the south. Even the east and southeast shores, dominated by short cliff faces and grassy hills, had the occasional short sandy beaches separating rock and ocean. Here, in this corner of the island, there was hardly any sand to speak of at all.

There was a beach of sorts, but it was made almost entirely of rocks. A field of smooth, fist-sized stones led all the way down the shore to disappear into the waves. Large, jagged boulders jutted out of the ground sporadically, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. Clusters of even larger boulders bordered the rocky beach in several places, separating it from the green foothills forming the base of Wild Mountain. The ruins of a fishing village, and the shallow slopes it was built on, lay between two groups of these boulders, giving the Cats who sheltered there direct access to the waterline.

Munkustrap stood about a mile or so west of the village, at the top of one of those huge moss-covered boulders at the edge of the field of stones, gazing down on a site he never would have guessed was a part of the island he'd been forced to call home for the past several months. The rocky beach wasn't so surprising. The climate and geology was right for it, and it wasn't like they didn't have anything like it back home in England.

The penguins were rather a shock though.

There must have been at least fifty of them. A mass of knee-high, black and white, dapper little birds waddling around on the smooth rocks. He'd never seen anything like it in his life. He searched his memory, trying to come up with the species (ignoring the voice in his head, that sounded very much like Tugger, calling him a nerd).

Small, no crest, can survive outside of Antarctica…

That last one narrowed the field a bit. Munk was hardly a penguin expert, but he felt like few penguins were built for any climate other than frigid. The first thing that came to his mind was Galapagos, but he rejected it almost immediately. They were endemic Galapagos and while he wasn't sure exactly where in the world his island was, Galapagos it surely wasn't.

Related to Galapagos then, he thought, maybe…

He watched them, transfixed, trying to memorize their markings. There was a tribe that operated a meager library in the valley between the Ridgeback and the Watchtower. Maybe they might have a book on penguins…

Suddenly something else caught Munk's eye. A person, sitting on a low flat boulder on the beach, about twenty meters or so from the penguin gang.

Gang? thought Munk. That's not right. What's a group of penguins called? A flock? No I don't think so…

Shoving that thought aside for now, Munk focused his attention on the person sitting on the beach. They were definitely a Cat, he couldn't see their ears because of the hood protecting them from the slight drizzle, but he could see the tail, occasionally waving and thumping the rock in idle contentment. They were close enough for Munk to see the solid grey fur on their tail, and the very familiar faded pink rucksack laying next to them.

Herman, thought Munk.

He made his way down off his own tall mossy boulder, and approached his… friend? Ally? Business partner? He still wasn't sure where he stood with the clever young tom. But he was fairly sure Herman was on their side.

"Heyo, Herman!" he called as he approached, using the local term used to greet others from a distance. Herman turned, surprise etched on his face, relaxing when he saw who was calling him. He smiled and waved but didn't get up. He kept his eyes on the older tom as he approached, unconcerned with the giant group of wild animals just a short distance away.

"Looks like I managed to sneak up on you for once," joked Munk when he was close enough to speak at a normal volume. Herman smirked and turned back to the penguins.

"I dunno whatcher talkin' about," he said casually. Munk chuckled. The kit could play innocent if he wanted, but they were both well aware of the way he'd suddenly appear in Jellicle territory without anyone knowing how he'd gotten through the walls without damaging them, or past the guards without them noticing. Magic was a possibility, but Misto and the Twins insisted they sensed nothing in him.

"What are you doing this side of the island?" Munk inquired as he came to stand next to the solid grey young tom, who shrugged and looked up at him.

"Could ask the same of you," he replied. A non-answer, but a reasonable one.

"Just exploring. Getting my bearings," answered Munk. "Not been to this area yet, thought I'd give it a look." Herman hummed in agreement.

"That's cool."

"So what about you?"

"Oh ya know…" Herman shrugged casually, "...business. Had some stuff to drop off, pickin' up some stuff, you know how it is."

Munk did in fact know how it was. Herman was a major player in the island's barter system economy. Hundreds of tribes and individuals all over the island depended on him to get them access to resources they would have difficulty obtaining on their own. The Jellicles themselves had a standing deal: he finds them as many good usable nails, ropes, and other building fasteners as he can, and in return for each delivery he gets to pick out quality pieces of metal from the scrap laying around their territory.

"So how do ya like Stony Shore?" Herman asked.

"Is that what you call this region?"

"Hnm."

"Well it's certainly full of surprises." Munk gestured at the (...pack? …gaggle?) group of penguins. Closer now, he could see one or two fuzzy pint-sized chicks toddling between the adults.

"Oh yeah, they're neat, ain't they?" said Herman, looking up at the older tom with a big excited grin. Munk smiled back. He liked finding things the young tom couldn't (or didn't bother to) hide his interest in.

"I like to sit and watch 'em when I have a chance," Herman continued. "Finish up business up here, got nothing else going on for a bit, I come out here…" he gestured at the penguins "…chill with the tuxedo chickens."

Munk glanced down at Herman with a raised eyebrow. He knew education on the island was limited, especially for kits with no tribe or family, as Munk suspected Herman had grown up. But surely, surely he knew what a penguin was?

"Is, uh… is that what you call these?" Munk asked, trying to sound casual. Just act dumb, he thought to himself. He didn't want to embarrass his young companion.

Herman glanced up at him, looking somewhere between amused and concerned.

"Dude, you do know what a penguin is, don't you?" he asked.

Munk laughed.

"Of course!" he said, taking a seat next to Herman on his flat, damp boulder. "But is that what you call them?"

"Eh, sometimes" Herman shrugged. "It's my little nickname for 'em."

"Well it's certainly apt," chuckled Munk. Herman grinned at the comment, then they both fell silent. Together they watched the penguins milling about on the rocks, going about general penguin business, socializing, grooming, some sleeping, one adult chasing a wily chick that was outmaneuvering it by ducking between adults.

They didn't seem to mind the Cats' presence. A few wondered over to investigate the seated pair, but none got closer than a few meters. They would scope them out, then go right back to the (...swarm? …clan? …tribe, maybe?) group and move on with whatever penguiny business they had. It almost seemed to Munk like passers-by stopping to listen to a busker, then continuing on their way.

"They don't know you," Herman's voice rose over the various the squawks and honks of the penguins to break the silence between the two of them. "That's why they ain't coming over."

"Oh?" Munk replied. "They don't look bothered to me."

"They ain't, but they ain't gonna come right up either. Some of 'em, they come right up to me, check me out. Hang out, you know?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah these guys, like, know me."

"Cool."

"Ain't it?" Again Herman offered Munk that big excited grin, and Munk couldn't help but smile back. Herman acted casual and nonchalant, but Munk could tell he was always hiding, always so guarded all the time. It was nice to see him getting to be himself and share his excitement for once.

"Sure is," Munk affirmed, and turned his attention back to the penguins.

"None of them are eating," he mentioned, meaning it as a question.

"Yeah, naw, they got eggs," explained Herman. "Half the parents are out hunting or like fishing or whatever you'd call it. When they get back the other half will go out."

"Ah, yes, I see," Munk said. He did remember that about penguins now that Herman had said something, but he wanted to let the kit show off what he knew, so he pretended he was just now learning it.

"You can't really see the nests right now, 'less you're looking for 'em, cuz there's too many chickens in the way," Herman went on "But they got bunches of these little nests in the rocks with like a couple of eggs, like two or three, in each nest."

Munk narrowed his eyes and stared at the ground around the feet of the penguins. He did occasionally see an impression in the ground with some small lumps in it. He guessed those were the nests.

"Where did they come from?" he asked.

"The penguins?"

"No the rocks," Munk answered flatly, still scanning said rocks to see if he could spot more nests. Herman chuckled his appreciation for Munk's sarcasm.

"From the Zoo, just like a buncha other shit that lives in this island." Herman was referring to the ruins of a zoo tucked into the southwestern foothills of Wild Mountain. Munk was aware of the Zoo, and that many of its inhabitants had escaped following whatever catastrophe had happened to the island that caused it to become abandoned. In fact, that was how Wild Mountain got it's name. Munk had yet to find anyone who knew what the second tallest peak in the island used to be named, but everyone now knew it as Wild Mountain because so many of the escaped animals set up shop there. Lions, wolves, bears, all kinds of things that Munk didn't think was native lived on that Mountain. It was part of why this corner of the island was less popular than the rest.

"How did it happen?" Munk mused aloud, thinking about the ruins of the island's previous population.

"How did what happen?" asked Herman.

"The island," answered Munk. "The people. The ruins. What happened?"

He hadn't really intended it as a question to be answered, as he didn't really expect his companion to know. But he often wondered. Just exactly what had happened here?

"You really wanna know?" asked Herman.

Munk looked at him. Herman wasn't watching the penguins anymore. He was watching Munk. He still wore his casual expression, but the look in his eyes had changed. Munk knew that look. It was Herman's "serious business" look.

Herman knew.

"Yes," Munk answered seriously.

Herman looked back out at the penguins.

"Watcha offering?"

Munk raised both eyebrows in surprise. Out of everything he expected to become a transaction…

"For information?!" he exclaimed.

Herman raise one eyebrow back at him and said nothing.

"About the history of the island?" Munk said, though he knew the answer by now.

Herman's only answer was to raise his eyebrow higher and smirk.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming," Munk sighed as he sat back to think. What did he have to offer? He had nothing on him he was willing to part with, and these sorts of transactions are usually done on the spot. Though Herman knew the Jellicles were good customers and might except a "trade promise" of something back at the tribe's territory. Did they have anything Herman might want that would be worth giving up for the information he was offering?

"What'll you take for it?" he asked finally. He might as well get an idea of what Herman was looking for before trying to do a mental inventory of the tribe's resources.

"Oh ya know," Herman shrugged non-committally, "I wouldn't mind some company with my evening meal."

Oh.

"Oh," said Munk. "Um…"

This wasn't good. Trade aside, he just wasn't into Herman that way. But he didn't want to hurt the kit's feelings.

"Listen, Herman, uh… I'm not really uh... not really interested in you like that-"

"What? Ew, no!" Herman said quickly, then added, "No offense, but no. That's the last thing on my mind." Munk eyed him, unsure if he meant it or was just denying it because of rejection. Herman noticed Munk's expression.

"Trust me bro. It ain't you. I just ain't into it," he explained. "Like, at all. With anyone." He shrugged. "Not my thing."

Satisfied he was telling the truth (and more than a bit relieved) Munk asked, "So what did you mean?"

"Ah, ya know, I always eat all by myself. I see other folks, tribes and shit, they eat all together sometimes. Like your tribe. If I come by around mealtimes, I see like, you guys are hanging out together while you eat. It looks nice," Herman explained, putting on his best casual, carefree tone and body language. It didn't fool Munk. The kit was dying to have this. "Besides" he shrugged, "The was a pretty damn good pie the other day."

Munk couldn't help but laugh. The week before, the Jellicles had offered him a slice of a pie made from their newly harvested blueberries, just as a gesture of hospitality and gratitude. Herman had accepted it (as part of the day's trade), and the look on his face when he bit into it was priceless. He had absolutely loved that pie, and had come back with extra goods just to get another slice.

Herman looked at the older tom, a touch of worry and surprise crossing his studiously casual face when Munk started laughing.

"Come by the theater around six or seven tonight," Munk chuckled, waving away his laughter. "I can't promise there'll be pie, but if you stick around after you might get to watch a bit of rehearsal."

"Dinner and a show?" shouted Herman, slapping his knee and startling a few nearby penguins. "You got deal, bruh!"

They shook on it. Information for an invitation.

"Alright buckle up," began Herman "Like about 15 or so years ago, this place was all bald-bodies. Like some Dogs as like house Dogs or whatever, definitely some fourleggers, but like mostly bald-bodies. I've heard varying stuff on it, but only like five to twenty Cats on the whole island to like over 100,000 bald-bodies"

"Standard" commented Munk, who was used to "human society" being just that, dominantly human and largely absent of Cats. Though he was old enough to remember a time when "house Cats" were as common a thing as house Dogs. His own brother had been a house Cat, and he himself had worked in a university, not a house but a similar principle. But that's a different story.

"Right," said Herman, "so these bald-bodies they're doing their bald-body thing, living their bald-body lives. The Massacre happens, and whatever Cats were on the island all get killed off."

Munk shuddered slightly. Herman was probably too young to properly remember the Massacre, which was probably why he was able to speak so casually about it. But Munk had been eleven when it happened, and he remembered it agonizing detail…

"So now it's just bald-bodies and some house Dogs, right? And they go back to their bald-body lives. But then," Herman lowered his voice for dramatic effect, "about two or three years after the Massacre, someone, no one knows who, but someone, bombed the shit outta this place."

Munk had already guessed warfare had played a role from the state of some of the ruins, but he had expected to hear about the island's involvement in some war. Herman made it sound like it just came out of the blue.

"But why?" he asked.

"No one knows," said Herman with a shrug. "But there are theories."

"Such as..?"

"I'm not done yet, hang on. So they get the shit bombed out of 'em right? Big political hullabaloo. Buncha people pointing the finger at each other, no one really getting the blame."

Munk vaguely remembered hearing something like this in the news, but if Herman's timing was right this would have happened during his year of away-training, and news was neither easy to come by nor the peak of his interest, so it was no small wonder he couldn't remember much about it now.

"Disaster relief comes in, calls the place unfit for life, and evacuates all the survivors." He lowered his voice again "They never come back."

He certainly knows how to tell an interesting story, thought Munk.

"Story goes they all get like, rehomed or whatever, and more importantly," Herman raised a hand towards Munk and leaned in, making sure he had the older tom's attention. He needn't have bothered. "...they all got paid off. Right? So like, they get these huge checks to keep 'em quiet and so like, they wouldn't come back, right?"

Munk nodded.

"So like, the place is officially abandoned. The whole island sits empty for years. Well, 'cept the surviving Zoo animals and I guess the native animals and shit. But the point is, no people. For years. Then," Herman leaned in again. "about 7 years ago, the two existing 'isolation zones,' ya know, where the bald-bodies started sending Cats after the Massacre, they start getting full. Overcrowded. I know. I lived in one."

Munk narrowed his eyes but stored that bit of information away for later. Herman rarely offered information about his past, and never followed up any questions about it. If this tale could unravel even a little bit of the mystery that was Herman, well that would be a bonus.

"So like at first they start shipping a bunch of us from the older, more crowded place to the other place," Herman continued, oblivious to Munk's curiosity, "but that doesn't last long. Then they ship a whole bunch of us to this prison looking thing. I dunno if it was like an actual prison but it sure looked like one.

"It was actually kinda nice though, it felt more like an indoor city then what I would have thought a prison would feel like- but that's not the point." Herman shook himself out of his tangent and got back to his story.

"I spent two years there before it started getting kinda crowded too. And there were apparently human cities nearby that didn't like us being there. Then," Herman's tone went flat to show his annoyance "someone in Control or whatever was all of a sudden like 'oh we have this nice empty island far away from human society' and everyone conveniently forgets the 'unfit for life' part and a bunch of us get picked out to get shipped off and now here I am!" Herman opened his arms wide, gesturing to the ocean, the rocky beach, and the penguins. "Chilling with tuxedo chickens on an bombed-to-shit uninhabitable island I've inhabited for the past five years." His voice was colored with distaste that he didn't bother trying to hide. Telling the story had awoken an old bitterness in his young heart, one that had awoken in Munk as well, and was also leaving a bad taste in his mouth. They were silent a moment, then Munk asked,

"What are the theories?"

Herman shook his head. It wasn't a refusal, rather a judgement on the world.

"The main one is Control did it."

"Why?" asked Munk, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

"To make room," Herman answered with a bitter smirk. "How do ya like that? Murdered the shit out of over 100,000 people, like 95% of 'em their own kind, cause they knew there's more Cats in the world than would fit in their little 'zones.'" He laughed. There was no mirth in it. "They were planning ahead."

They sat in silence again for another moment, the only sounds coming from the waves, the light drizzle, and the gregarious penguins. A few penguins were starting to return from their fishing trip. They watched as the parents reunited, greeting each other before swapping places, caretakers waddling down to the waterline and returned-hunters taking over care of the nest. One returning parent had at least one already hatched chick, which was promptly fed as the Cats watched and stewed over the state of their existence. Eventually Herman sighed, leaned forward, and ran both hands through the fur on his head.

"It's all speculation you know," he said. "All shit I've heard, you know, around. No way to confirm anything."

"Around," repeated Munk. It was intended as an open question. He wasn't sure how all this information would be available to anyone on the island.

"I got my sources," the younger tom said, pulling a joint from a pocket of his pink rucksack and lighting it. "I ain't at liberty, you know how it is."

"Hnm," said Munk.

"You want a hit?" Herman offered. "First one's free."

"No thanks," said Munk, shaking his head and staring past the penguins to the ocean, "not really my thing."

"Suit yourself," Herman drawled, taking a hit.

"Hnm," said Munk.

They sat like that for some time, no one speaking, just thinking, and watching, until the rain stoped, the sun came out, and Herman's joint was half finished.

"Colony!" Munk shouted suddenly, snapping his fingers. Every penguin on the beach started, looked his way, and honked in annoyance.

"What?" asked Herman, as startled as the penguins.

"A group of penguins is called a colony!"

"...Okay…?"

---

Omg so there it is, the first official fic in my official Cats headcanon narrative fic thingy! I'm so excited! It's finally happening! Now I just have about 40 more years to write in order to actually lay out the timeline leading up to this point! yaaaaayyyy!!!?!

Btw the penguins are Humboldt penguins if you're curious.

#isle of storms #worldbuilding #herman #Munkustrap #and yes #munk is a nerd #you know I'm right #don't worry about what the massacre is or who control are for now #that'll be elaborated on in the future #eventually...

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inshadowofthegods · 5 years

Text

A Deal

Dawn had just risen, and already the house was bustling with activity. Saerun and Ciron were still dozing. Saerun had only briefly gotten up to take Clara and get her settled, as they’d be looking after her alongside their home today. Everyone else was up and ready to leave, though some were more awake than others. Solveig and Ila were a bit quiet, and Marshall seemed especially bleary. Espen and Hazel were practically bouncing off the walls. “Alright,” Edan began, looking over the group. “Do you have everything you want to trade packed?” Various ‘yes’es and grunts of confirmation greeted him. “And you have provisions for the day?” More ‘yes’es. “Alright, good. Let’s get going. Just follow me. Don’t stray off.” Their flight was uneventful. The weather had been pleasant, and nobody had difficulty keeping up. Edan had frequently looked over his shoulder to check for stragglers, but instead found that everyone had been dutifully following his movements. Without needing to keep everyone in line, he instead found himself marveling by how much his group had grown in such a short time. It wouldn’t even be out of place to have a clan name at this point. Gods, he needed to build. …And to focus on navigating properly. He had the group land and convene to eat lunch, and looked over the list they’d cobbled together the night before. “So… I’m not sure how much of this we’re gonna manage,” he admitted, frowning as he looked over the considerably long scroll. “…So I’m looking forward to seeing how all of you handle haggling. Zuehal is known to cut a deal, if you can convince him.” “How are we supposed to do that?” Hazel asked. “Well hell, you’re proud of your sculptures, aren’t you?” Edan asked. “Tell him why! Tell him how you made them, and how long it took! There’s value in that.” “You ramble about them to us for hours,” Marshall snorted. “So do that to him. Maybe he’ll pay you extra to like, shut up eventually.” “Oh, bite me,” Hazel snapped, turning to snarl at him. “She has something to contribute,” Edan asked, giving the swamp-coloured nocturne a particularly cold glare as he spoke. “Do you?” “Hm? Yeah,” Marshall took a moment to chew on his jerky, evidently unaffected by the anger directed at him. “Been collecting geodes. Bones. Stuff like that.” “I’m not sure he’s going to be interested in bones, Marshall,” Edan shook his head. “Fine, then I have geodes.” “I’ve got some scarves, and clothes I made that don’t fit anymore,” Ila said nervously. “I thought about keeping them for someone else, but it might be better to just sell them, right? If he’ll take them?” “He sells clothes so, yeah, he should,” Edan replied. “Anyone else?” “I mean, I picked the best of my junk, but I mostly just have… junk,” Rorin admitted, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Same,” Espen added with a snicker. “Alright well… you go last, so you don’t just tick him off.” It was mid-afternoon by the time the outpost was in sight. Edan had halted the group for a moment, circling and watching for any other patrons down below. Zuehal was indeed there, the vivid blue wildclaw sitting crosslegged in a tent stall. He was flanked by two large ridgebacks who were armed to the teeth, but lying around in a casual manner. Edan noted another heat signature coming from within the tent, but couldn’t discern what it was. “Oh, yea! His note said he’d have bodyguards or something,” Hazel said, peering curiously down beside him. “Makes sense,” Edan replied, watching as a small group of longnecks trotted off from the tent, large baskets and bags balanced on their shoulders. “Alright, looks like the last of his customers are dealt with… no other dragons. Let’s go.” Edan tilted his wings and soared downward, seeing the wildclaw below take notice of his group and look up, cupping his hand over his eyes. “Edan!” Zuehal shouted. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you!” Edan landed, and nodded in greeting. Ila landed next and waved politely, with Solveig following suit. Then Hazel touched down and immediately rushed over to him, which resulted in the two ridgebacks suddenly sitting up straight to watch her intently. “Easy there!” Edan shouted, frowning as he trotted up to her side. He looked toward Zuehal. “So… got a few more people around since we last spoke. We’ll be looking to stock up.” “And I would like to be a skydancer, please,” Hazel said, gesturing toward herself. “I’m Hazel, and I make some pretty cool things I think you might like.” “Uh, yeah, looking to buy a skydancer scroll, rice, flour, nails, uh,” Edan pulled out the list and handed it to the wildclaw. “Whatever you can fill from this after you see what we’ve got to offer. I’ve got gold too, just hoping to do a partial trade.” “Ah,” Zuehal blinked, looking between Edan and the list. His moment of bemusement quickly passed, and a toothy grin quickly replaced it. He spread his arms out and gestured toward an empty table beside him. continued in a slight sing-song. “I see. By all means, show me what you’ve got! I’m sure we can work out a deal. Just lay your works out here, miss Hazel.” Hazel hurried over and began going through her bags, carefully placing her sculptures and jewellery out one by one. As she worked, Zuehal sidled over to Edan. “So, tell me,” he began quietly. “How did so many dragons find their way into your company? Did you join a clan?” “No, actually,” Edan replied, shaking his head. “They all found their way to me, if you can believe that.” “Really?” the wildclaw laughed. “Hah! How many do you have now?” “Eight,” Edan replied after a moment’s pause. He’d briefly thought of mentioning Clara, but then he’d have to explain leaving a baby at home “alone”. “All pretty excited for this, as you can tell.” “Hm, yes,” the wildclaw replied, stroking his chin as he pondered. “It looks like you might benefit from a few more visits from me per year at this rate.” “Don’t know if I can afford that, Zuehal,” Edan replied flatly, raising a brow at the wildclaw. Zuehal didn’t seem to notice, instead focused on Hazel’s display. He headed over and stood by the table. “Very interesting, my girl! You made these all yourself?” “Absolutely!” Hazel replied proudly, her hands on her hips. “I found all the parts myself, too!” She picked up a necklace from the table and held it out toward him. “Do you see all those little chain links? I put them together myself, piece by piece! That’s why there’s two different shapes alternating! And they’re strong too!” She took a moment to pull harshly on the chain - which, to her word, did not break or show any signs of strain. “Very nice!” Zuehal remarked, seeming genuinely impressed. “And, I see why you’re wishing to become a skydancer. Better for the detail work, isn’t it?” “Yes, exactly!” Hazel nodded. Edan breathed a sigh of relief at her reply. “And I promise you that all my work is just as well-made as this one! Please, have a look!” Zuehal bent forward, adjusting his glasses as he looked over each of the approximately dozen trinkets that Hazel had brought him and testing their strength. After a few minutes of inspection, he stood up straight and nodded. “Yes, I’m confident I can find buyers for these. I’ll take them all… but to be clear, it will cover about a third of the scroll’s cost. Does that sound acceptable to you?” Hazel nodded and pranced off, shooting Marshall an absolutely demonic grin once she’d turned her back to Zuehal. Ila was next to step up. She carefully moved Hazel’s work to a corner of the table before beginning to set out the clothing she’d brought. “Hello, Zuehal, it’s nice to meet you!” she greeted brightly, though Edan could hear some nervousness in her voice. “It’s to my understanding you trade in clothing, as well? I’m - I’m a seamstress, and I wanted to see if you’d be interested what I make? I’m interested in trading for fabric as well.” “How interesting!” Zuehal exclaimed, picking up a scarf and holding it out in the light. “I’ve not seen a mosaic pattern like this before… are all the pieces sewn individually?” “Yes,” Ila replied, nodding. She took a moment to ponder her words. “Each cut, selected, and set by hand.” “That must take days,” the wildclaw said, inspecting the stitches carefully. “Oh, it does,” Ila laughed. “But honestly, I tend to work on them when I’m trying to fall asleep. I find it… calming.” “They’re quite beautiful. I’ll be happy to take them all,” he grinned. “Unique handmade pieces like this tend to go for a high price, and I’m fairly certain the… exoticism of your remote location will bump up the price as well. Hmm… promise you bring more of these next time I come around and I’ll consider that scroll covered. Sound like a deal? I can go look in the back for fabric scraps as well, if you wish - ” “Yes!” Ila replied joyously, her hands balling into fists and waving with excitement. “Thank you!” “Does anyone else have things to offer?” Zuehal asked, looking out at the rest of the group. “Please, put them out on the table while I go fetch a few things off this list. And Edan, would you come with me please?” Edan nodded and began walking with the wildclaw. The makeshift lineup the rest of his clan had formed quickly dissolved behind them, with everyone clamoring to reach the table. “So, Zuehal…” Edan began, cocking his head to the side and giving the wildclaw a scrutinizing stare. “I gotta say, you’re giving us a better deal than I would have expected.” The wildclaw glanced over his shoulder and raised his brow, offering a small smile. “Like I know my girls are talented. Skilled,” he continued. “But it doesn’t seem like you to give us the scroll without any coin attached. What are you up to?” “Honestly?” Zuehal began, pulling open a large trunk behind his tent and pulling various small pieces of fabric into a bag. “It’s exciting to see a clan starting from the ground up, and I want to help. Not to bring it all back up, but I remember how you were… back then.” Edan swallowed, glancing away - which resulted in him briefly making eye contact with one of the ridgeback guards. Awful. “And aside from that,” Zuehal added, standing and handing the bag of scrap fabrics to Edan before heading to yet another trunk. “I saw you had a lot of building materials on your list there. Nails, bolts, fittings, and so on. You’re making more accommodations, aren’t you? Making a proper village. I see it as… an investment!” “I’m still paying you for these,” Edan stated, only to grunt as another - much more heavy - sack was pushed into his arms. He was terrible at balancing on his hind legs. “I don’t like being in debt.” “Oh, you won’t be,” Zuehal laughed, now moving to look through his food stock. “Particularly… if you’re willing to take one more dragon with you when you head back.” “What?” Edan balked. “Hold on now, are you talking about shacking up with us? Because that’s going to really throw a wrench on your whole Traveling Merchant thing.” “No, not me!” Zuehal laughed. “I was paid to find a home for this girl, you see, and it’s rare to run into a dragon I’d trust with such a thing. You though, and all those happy kids? It seems perfect. I’d consider it quite a favour should you agree.” “Well, I,” Edan paused, staring at the ground as he tried to think. “I’ll have to meet her first.” “Oh, of course!” Zuehal nodded, turning back to him with two large sacks - one of rice, one of wheat flour - in his arms. “I’ll take you to her now. You can talk for a few minutes while I go grab the rest of what you ordered.” “Uh. Alright,” Edan replied hesitantly, following behind the wildclaw as quickly as he could manage. The table was completely covered in various items by the time they returned, and Zuehal quickly promised he’d be back to look them over as he set down the bags he’d been carrying. Edan dropped his, as well, and followed as the wildclaw ushered him behind a hanging curtain that covered the back of his tent. “Hello, Angie,” Zuehal greeted warmly, smiling as he gestured toward Edan. “I believe I’ve found a home for you to go to, if you feel comfortable. This is Edan, I’ve known him for a number of years now.” The dragon that blinked up at him looked quite… odd. Edan didn’t know exactly what she was. It was the mane that was most confusing; incredibly long black hair draped down to cover much of her body - and her limbs as well. What he could see was covered in both scales and what looked like burns. She brushed her hair from her eyes and offered a claw to him. It was only then he could discern she looked mostly like a nocturne. “Hello, Angie,” he greeted, carefully shaking her talon. “It’s nice to meet you.” “And you,” she replied in what was barely more than a whisper. “Angie here’s clan got caught up in… an unpleasant series of skirmishes,” Zuehal explained. “Her parents paid me to get her to safety, preferably somewhere rather… quiet.” “Well, can’t say we don’t have that,” Edan replied. “Though it’ll be a bit cramped for you where I live for now. We’ll be building soon, but for now it’s basically… two rooms.” “Well, so long as it’s bigger than a tent,” she replied, still barely audible. A nervous smile briefly ghosted across her face. “And… Zuehal, is this a permanent arrangement?” he asked, turning to look at the wildclaw. “If people are gonna come calling for her it needs to be through you, I’m not giving up my location - ” “I know, I know,” Zuehal replied, waving his hands dismissively. “You have my word, Edan. If her parents call for her return, I’ll come by and advertise another sale. Maybe leave a little mark on the bottom of the notice so you have a signal to watch for. I won’t give up your… secret hideout.” Edan frowned. “Anyway, I’ll go get the rest of your order, now,” the wildclaw continued. “Feel free to chat a bit while I look through everything. I won’t be long.” Edan and the strange little dragon sat in silence for a moment. He felt anxiety fill his chest as he began to realize her coming with him might actually happen. He looked back to her and took a deep breath. “So… if you do come with us, there are some things you should know. Some ground rules,” Edan began. “The most important is to not wander off. We live remotely. There are many dangers out in the wild, and if you want to go out, you take someone with you to watch your back.” “That seems sensible,” Angie replied, nodding. “Everyone pulls their own weight in my clan,” he continued. “Now… you look to be injured, so we wouldn’t expect much of you until that’s… sorted. But otherwise you’d be expected to hunt, gather, work with the rest of us.” Angie nodded again. “And finally…” Edan sighed. “There are dangerous groups out there, and people we have to protect. It sounds a lot like what you’ve been dealing with already, which is why I’m hoping I can trust you. I’ll introduce you to the rest of my clan soon, and promise me you won’t trust anyone else - if you do see someone else out there, in the woods, you tell one of us so we can deal with it. Make sure it’s safe.” “I… I’m not sure I understand,” she replied quietly, giving him a worried look. “I’m saying where I live - and the people who live in it - are safe, because I keep it hidden,” Edan stated. “So if you’re going to come with me, you have to do your part to protect it too.” “Oh,” Angie nodded. “Of course. I promise I will.” “Okay, good,” Edan replied, letting out some of his nerves with a quick sigh. “So… what is it that happened to you? Does… that need treatment?” “Uh, to put it simply, the house I was in was torched,” she replied, grimacing. “And there’s not really anything to do about these burns aside from keep them clean until they heal on their own…” “Solveig might be able to help,” Edan offered. “Or - well, we have a few healers. Might be able to dull the pain a bit at least, speed it along…” Zuehal poked his head in through the curtain, smiling curiously at the two. “So, what do you think?” “I think this will work,” Angie replied. Edan nodded silently in agreement. “Excellent! Let’s head out then,” Zuehal grinned and pulled back the curtain for them both. “I think we were able to work all the extras out while you were talking.” “Extras?” Edan asked, giving Zuehal a confused look before turning and seeing the nocturne quartet, who were all holding scrolls.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr nuzlocke #fr writing #oc: edan #oc: hazel #oc: ila #oc: angie #oc: zuehal #etc #isotg

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charoite-burrower · 6 years

Text

Lore: Something a little different

It’s not an Interview with Outcasts, but it IS the story of two dragons I picked up during BotE to explain how my clan of recluses learned about Luminax. I’ve had their story in my head this whole time. Now it is out of my head. Enjoy!

-----

Verdance vaulted into the air to avoid being side-checked by a very wobbly young Guardian who stumbled into him in the street. His frills flattened against his neck with a crack as he gazed down at the hatchling. This is what he got for straying out of the city's Fae marketplace.

“Careful!” he told the boy, who was big enough that he could have done some damage.

The Guardian looked up at where he was hovering, eyes wide, and was silent for several seconds before replying, “You be careful!”

“BENEDICT.” The hatchling's distraught mother, who had been perusing a shop window, entered the conversation by lowering her head to their level. “You're being very rude.”

“No, mom, he's my Charge! He needs to be careful!”

His mother sighed hard enough that Verdance had to beat his wings harder to maintain his position. “I'm sorry,” she told him. “They do this a lot when they're young.”

“It's okay. I understand.” Verdance didn't, really; he had no children. He did understand that it was an annoying habit, though, and as a result could empathize with the mother.

“Ben. Come on.”

The hatchling stamped a paw on the cobblestones. “I'm not supposed to leave my Charge alone! You an' Dad said so!”

His mother responded by simply picking the young boy up in a paw and settling him in between her wings. With another apology, she set off down the street, grimly ignoring her now shrieking son.

Verdance watched them go, feeling more certain than ever that he was never having kids.

*****

“Verdance?” His landlady, who owned both the private garden and the tree within it that he'd built his nest in, called up to him from her back door. “There's someone here looking for you.”

He set aside his book with a sigh and flew down to her. “It's not another traveling salesman, is it?”

She nervously fidgeted with her pearl. “He's, um, a child.”

“Why would a child be looking for me?”

He heard a voice call from the other room. “Mr. Fae? Is that you?”

Verdance's fins drooped. He recognized that voice. With a sigh, he padded past his landlady and into the front hall. “Benedict? How did you get here?”

The hatchling smiled. “I waited until mom was asleep an’ sneaked out.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“A Guardian always knows where to find his Charge,” Benedict said imperiously. “You live real far across the city, though.”

His stomach sank. “Did you sneak out last night?”

“Uh-huh!”

It was evening His mother was going to be in hysterics by now.

His landlady peered around the corner. “We need to get you home. Your mother must be so worried.”

The hatchling scowled. “I'm not supposed to leave my Charge.”

“He did this in the marketplace last week,” Verdance explained to her. To Benedict, he asked, “Do you know your way home?”

“Yeah! Dad says I'm a natural av-nagator.”

“You can't send him back out in the city alone,” hissed his landlady.

Verdance made an effort to keep his frills still. “Of course not. I need to talk to his mother, anyway.”

“I'm hungry,” Benedict announced.

“Then you better get us there fast,” Verdance replied, and walked for the front door.

His mother looked relieved, and also like she wanted to strangle her son, when they showed up at their house on the big dragon side of town. While Benedict whined at her knees that he was hungry, she tried explaining her son's behavior to Verdance. Something something only child? Whatever.

“Is this going to happen again?”

“No. We'll keep an eye on him. Hopefully he picks something else as his “Charge” soon. I'm so sorry for the trouble.”

When Verdance began to fly away, Benedict started wailing. Thankfully, he couldn't fly after, so Verdance soon left the irritating little hatchling behind.

Guardians.

*****

The city was on fire. It had been burning for hours, starting when the Emperor attacked the large side of town, but despite the fighting Ridgebacks and Guardians (who, rumor had it, had ordered all the Imperials to get as far away as possible), the fight was making its way toward Verdance's home. His landlady had already fled, but Verdance had hoped the big dragons of the city would overwhelm the rotting monstrosity that had attacked them. Soon, however, the grim reality had come clear.

He'd just gotten done packing a satchel with clothes and food and the few mementos that would fit when he heard a breathless call from the courtyard below.

“Mr. Fae?”

Verdance looked down to see Benedict, and felt the panic he'd been trying to stifle since the attack spike in his chest. He zoomed down towards the hatchling, who looked tired and was covered in soot.

“What are you doing here?”

Benedict frowned. “Keeping you safe.”

“Kid, you can't-- where are your parents?”

“I dunno. They went to stop the bad dragon. They told me to hide in the house, but it got burned up, so I found you.”

Verdance looked out over the ruined city, what he could see of it in the smoke, anyway, and shuddered as he heard the Emperor's roar on the wind. It was getting louder, which meant the dragons who were fighting it weren't doing well.

He looked down at Benedict and made a decision. “Look, kid. I was just about to leave.”

“But it's not safe!”

“You're right. I… need someone to come with me and keep me safe.”

Benedict puffed his chest out. “I can do it!”

“Okay, but if you come with me, you have to listen to me.”

“Okay!”

Verdance got them walking, but quickly realized that wasn't going to get them moving fast enough. The little guy couldn't fly, but he could definitely outstep Verdance even at his size. He swallowed his pride for the sake of increasing their chance of survival.

“Benedict? Is it okay if I ride on your back? I'm, uh. Tired.”

“Sure! I'm strong. I can carry you real far.”

Verdance fluttered up and settled in between his shoulders. “Okay. Go where I tell you.”

Benedict nodded, and they turned toward the trickle of refugees visible on the horizon, moving through the smoke.

*****

The first few days out of the city were tough. Benedict had no food of his own, and though he walked faster than Verdance, he got tired quickly. The insects that Verdance had packed for himself, he passed off to the hatchling. Their store dwindled quickly. They weren't able to keep up with the rest of the fleeing dragons. Benedict couldn't hunt, and Verdance didn't know which plants were edible. By the time they got to the next town, Benedict was tired and hungry, but Verdance was hungrier.

The town had been wiped nearly clean of supplies, but as soon as the dragons living there saw Benedict, they broke into their personal supplies to help them in their journey.

“Where are you going?” One of them asked.

Verdance was about to tell them he had no idea, when the hatchling piped up. “The Clan of the, uh… the Outcast! Mom said if we got separated, we'd meet up there.”

“Never heard of it,” their helper said.

“It's real far away in Nature.”

It was as good a plan as any. Verdance had wanted to get far away from the Emperor, and Nature qualified. They'd just have to go by boat, since Benedict didn't fly. With a rough plan now in mind, the two of them thanked the villagers and got back in the road.

*****

They weren't the only refugees trying to get out by water, but thankfully the worst if the crowds had come through ahead of them. So many of the dragons could just fly where they needed to go, after all. Again, Benedict's youth helped them, and soon they had passage on a small ship. They were sleeping on the deck with a displaced Snapper family, but they were moving.

Benedict had nearly doubled in size on the road, but he was thin from not having enough to eat. He took his first experimental flight off the front of the boat their third day on the water. Verdance kept an eye on him, periodically calling out tips, while one of the Snappers walked him through identifying edible plants that would be growing in Nature.

Benedict curled up next to him protectively after his flight nearly ended in a crash and napped. Verdance transcribed notes about plants into the margins of his only book so he wouldn't forget. Benedict's first flight should have been longer. The boy needed more muscle, and energy.

He was nearly done with his notes when a blue Snapper heavily laden with bags of herbs walked over and introduced herself as Enid.

“The others told me you're headed into Nature. Have you ever been there?”

Verdance shook his head. “I've never so much as been camping.”

“Lucky I'm here, then. I do a lot of trade with Nature clans.”

“We're looking for one called Clan of the Outcast.”

“Even luckier than I thought. I can take you there. It's where my wife lives.”

Verdance felt a surge of relief so strong that it left him exhausted. He thanked Enid profusely, then excused himself to rest. He leaned back against Benedict's ever-growing side and allowed himself to hope for the first time that everything was going to be okay.

*****

Benedict's parents weren't there when they arrived, but it was another few months before he was old enough to realize why. The clan took them both in and listened to their story with horror. They were isolated, and received news only when the Snappers came through to trade.

It was hard adjusting to life in a hole in the ground after living in such a large city. Verdance eventually built a new nest in the branches of the massive tree above the hill that housed the clan. This caused Benedict to sleep outside.

“They can give you a room, you know,” Verdance told him one day.

Benedict's voice had grown deeper recently. He was now two-thirds his full size, having filled out rapidly on the plentiful food in the jungle. “I need to keep you safe.”

Verdance began to wonder if he'd been wrong this whole time. When Benedict was full-sized and still insisting on sleeping under Verdance's nest, Verdance quietly went to the Matriarch and asked if they could build a room for Benedict. When it was done, Verdance spun a new nest on the ceiling inside it. Once that was done, Benedict gladly moved in out of the elements.

*****

A year passed. His parents never did arrive. Benedict never mentioned it, and Verdance was too afraid to bring it up himself. But one day, the Guardian surprised him.

“I never thanked you for keeping me safe during our trip here.” The words drifted up from the floor of the room. They'd put out the lamps to go to sleep, so Verdance couldn't see his roommate.

He decided to try deflecting with humor. “Hey, you kept me safe, remember?”

“I'm being serious. I’d be dead if it weren't for you. Crushed, or starved, or worse.”

Verdance felt his frills droop. “I wasn't just going to leave you there, Ben.”

“I'll make it up to you.” He said it with the same determination of every declaration he'd given Verdance since that day they met in the market.

“I hope you know where I'm coming from when I say I hope you never get the chance.”

Benedict laughed at that, a low rumbling which Verdance felt in his chest and stomach. “Good night, Verdance.”

Verdance lay awake, deep in thought. Benedict had turned out well, despite everything.

Maybe… maybe he did want hatchlings someday. It would be nice to see them get the chance to be kids for as long as they deserved.

#fr lore #clan of the outcast #long post

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pumpkin-bread · 6 years

Text

Dawn had just risen, and already the house was bustling with activity.

Saerun and Ciron were still dozing. Saerun had only briefly gotten up to take Clara and get her settled, as they’d be looking after her alongside their home today.

Everyone else was up and ready to leave, though some were more awake than others. Solveig and Ila were a bit quiet, and Marshall seemed especially bleary. Espen and Hazel were practically bouncing off the walls.

“Alright,” Edan began, looking over the group. “Do you have everything you want to trade packed?”

Various ‘yes’es and grunts of confirmation greeted him.

“And you have provisions for the day?”

More ‘yes’es.

“Alright, good. Let’s get going. Just follow me. Don’t stray off.”

Their flight was uneventful.

The weather had been pleasant, and nobody had difficulty keeping up.

Edan had frequently looked over his shoulder to check for stragglers, but instead found that everyone had been dutifully following his movements. Without needing to keep everyone in line, he instead found himself marveling by how much his group had grown in such a short time.

It wouldn’t even be out of place to have a clan name at this point. Gods, he needed to build. ...And to focus on navigating properly.

He had the group land and convene to eat lunch, and looked over the list they’d cobbled together the night before.

“So... I’m not sure how much of this we’re gonna manage,” he admitted, frowning as he looked over the considerably long scroll. “...So I’m looking forward to seeing how all of you handle haggling. Zuehal is known to cut a deal, if you can convince him.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Hazel asked.

“Well hell, you’re proud of your sculptures, aren’t you?” Edan asked. “Tell him why! Tell him how you made them, and how long it took! There’s value in that.”

“You ramble about them to us for hours,” Marshall snorted. “So do that to him. Maybe he’ll pay you extra to like, shut up eventually.”

“Oh, bite me,” Hazel snapped, turning to snarl at him.

“She has something to contribute,” Edan asked, giving the swamp-coloured nocturne a particularly cold glare as he spoke. “Do you?”

“Hm? Yeah,” Marshall took a moment to chew on his jerky, evidently unaffected by the anger directed at him. “Been collecting geodes. Bones. Stuff like that.”

“I’m not sure he’s going to be interested in bones, Marshall,” Edan shook his head.

“Fine, then I have geodes.”

“I’ve got some scarves, and clothes I made that don’t fit anymore,” Ila said nervously. “I thought about keeping them for someone else, but it might be better to just sell them, right? If he’ll take them?”

“He sells clothes so, yeah, he should,” Edan replied. “Anyone else?”

“I mean, I picked the best of my junk, but I mostly just have... junk,” Rorin admitted, looking vaguely embarrassed.

“Same,” Espen added with a snicker.

“Alright well... you go last, so you don’t just tick him off.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time the outpost was in sight.

Edan had halted the group for a moment, circling and watching for any other patrons down below.

Zuehal was indeed there, the vivid blue wildclaw sitting crosslegged in a tent stall. He was flanked by two large ridgebacks who were armed to the teeth, but lying around in a casual manner. Edan noted another heat signature coming from within the tent, but couldn’t discern what it was.

“Oh, yea! His note said he’d have bodyguards or something,” Hazel said, peering curiously down beside him.

“Makes sense,” Edan replied, watching as a small group of longnecks trotted off from the tent, large baskets and bags balanced on their shoulders. “Alright, looks like the last of his customers are dealt with... no other dragons. Let’s go.”

Edan tilted his wings and soared downward, seeing the wildclaw below take notice of his group and look up, cupping his hand over his eyes.

“Edan!” Zuehal shouted. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you!”

Edan landed, and nodded in greeting. Ila landed next and waved politely, with Solveig following suit.

Then Hazel touched down and immediately rushed over to him, which resulted in the two ridgebacks suddenly sitting up straight to watch her intently.

“Easy there!” Edan shouted, frowning as he trotted up to her side. He looked toward Zuehal. “So... got a few more people around since we last spoke. We’ll be looking to stock up.”

“And I would like to be a skydancer, please,” Hazel said, gesturing toward herself. “I’m Hazel, and I make some pretty cool things I think you might like.”

“Uh, yeah, looking to buy a skydancer scroll, rice, flour, nails, uh,” Edan pulled out the list and handed it to the wildclaw. “Whatever you can fill from this after you see what we’ve got to offer. I’ve got gold too, just hoping to do a partial trade.”

“Ah,” Zuehal blinked, looking between Edan and the list. His moment of bemusement quickly passed, and a toothy grin quickly replaced it. He spread his arms out and gestured toward an empty table beside him. continued in a slight sing-song. “I see. By all means, show me what you’ve got! I’m sure we can work out a deal. Just lay your works out here, miss Hazel.”

Hazel hurried over and began going through her bags, carefully placing her sculptures and jewellery out one by one. As she worked, Zuehal sidled over to Edan.

“So, tell me,” he began quietly. “How did so many dragons find their way into your company? Did you join a clan?”

“No, actually,” Edan replied, shaking his head. “They all found their way to me, if you can believe that.”

“Really?” the wildclaw laughed. “Hah! How many do you have now?”

“Eight,” Edan replied after a moment’s pause. He’d briefly thought of mentioning Clara, but then he’d have to explain leaving a baby at home “alone”. “All pretty excited for this, as you can tell.”

“Hm, yes,” the wildclaw replied, stroking his chin as he pondered. “It looks like you might benefit from a few more visits from me per year at this rate.”

“Don’t know if I can afford that, Zuehal,” Edan replied flatly, raising a brow at the wildclaw.

Zuehal didn’t seem to notice, instead focused on Hazel’s display. He headed over and stood by the table. “Very interesting, my girl! You made these all yourself?”

“Absolutely!” Hazel replied proudly, her hands on her hips. “I found all the parts myself, too!” She picked up a necklace from the table and held it out toward him. “Do you see all those little chain links? I put them together myself, piece by piece! That’s why there’s two different shapes alternating! And they’re strong too!” She took a moment to pull harshly on the chain - which, to her word, did not break or show any signs of strain.

“Very nice!” Zuehal remarked, seeming genuinely impressed. “And, I see why you’re wishing to become a skydancer. Better for the detail work, isn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly!” Hazel nodded. Edan breathed a sigh of relief at her reply. “And I promise you that all my work is just as well-made as this one! Please, have a look!”

Zuehal bent forward, adjusting his glasses as he looked over each of the approximately dozen trinkets that Hazel had brought him and testing their strength. After a few minutes of inspection, he stood up straight and nodded. “Yes, I’m confident I can find buyers for these. I’ll take them all... but to be clear, it will cover about a third of the scroll’s cost. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

Hazel nodded and pranced off, shooting Marshall an absolutely demonic grin once she’d turned her back to Zuehal.

Ila was next to step up. She carefully moved Hazel’s work to a corner of the table before beginning to set out the clothing she’d brought. “Hello, Zuehal, it’s nice to meet you!” she greeted brightly, though Edan could hear some nervousness in her voice. “It’s to my understanding you trade in clothing, as well? I’m - I’m a seamstress, and I wanted to see if you’d be interested what I make? I’m interested in trading for fabric as well.”

“How interesting!” Zuehal exclaimed, picking up a scarf and holding it out in the light. “I’ve not seen a mosaic pattern like this before... are all the pieces sewn individually?”

“Yes,” Ila replied, nodding. She took a moment to ponder her words. “Each cut, selected, and set by hand.”

“That must take days,” the wildclaw said, inspecting the stitches carefully.

“Oh, it does,” Ila laughed. “But honestly, I tend to work on them when I’m trying to fall asleep. I find it... calming.”

“They’re quite beautiful. I’ll be happy to take them all,” he grinned. “Unique handmade pieces like this tend to go for a high price, and I’m fairly certain the... exoticism of your remote location will bump up the price as well. Hmm... promise you bring more of these next time I come around and I’ll consider that scroll covered. Sound like a deal? I can go look in the back for fabric scraps as well, if you wish - ”

“Yes!” Ila replied joyously, her hands balling into fists and waving with excitement. “Thank you!”

“Does anyone else have things to offer?” Zuehal asked, looking out at the rest of the group. “Please, put them out on the table while I go fetch a few things off this list. And Edan, would you come with me please?”

Edan nodded and began walking with the wildclaw. The makeshift lineup the rest of his clan had formed quickly dissolved behind them, with everyone clamoring to reach the table.

“So, Zuehal...” Edan began, cocking his head to the side and giving the wildclaw a scrutinizing stare. “I gotta say, you’re giving us a better deal than I would have expected.”

The wildclaw glanced over his shoulder and raised his brow, offering a small smile.

“Like I know my girls are talented. Skilled,” he continued. “But it doesn’t seem like you to give us the scroll without any coin attached. What are you up to?”

“Honestly?” Zuehal began, pulling open a large trunk behind his tent and pulling various small pieces of fabric into a bag. “It’s exciting to see a clan starting from the ground up, and I want to help. Not to bring it all back up, but I remember how you were... back then.”

Edan swallowed, glancing away - which resulted in him briefly making eye contact with one of the ridgeback guards. Awful.

“And aside from that,” Zuehal added, standing and handing the bag of scrap fabrics to Edan before heading to yet another trunk. “I saw you had a lot of building materials on your list there. Nails, bolts, fittings, and so on. You’re making more accommodations, aren’t you? Making a proper village. I see it as... an investment!”

“I’m still paying you for these,” Edan stated, only to grunt as another - much more heavy - sack was pushed into his arms. He was terrible at balancing on his hind legs. “I don’t like being in debt.”

“Oh, you won’t be,” Zuehal laughed, now moving to look through his food stock. “Particularly... if you’re willing to take one more dragon with you when you head back.”

“What?” Edan balked. “Hold on now, are you talking about shacking up with us? Because that’s going to really throw a wrench on your whole Traveling Merchant thing.”

“No, not me!” Zuehal laughed. “I was paid to find a home for this girl, you see, and it’s rare to run into a dragon I’d trust with such a thing. You though, and all those happy kids? It seems perfect. I’d consider it quite a favour should you agree.”

“Well, I,” Edan paused, staring at the ground as he tried to think. “I’ll have to meet her first.”

“Oh, of course!” Zuehal nodded, turning back to him with two large sacks - one of rice, one of wheat flour - in his arms. “I’ll take you to her now. You can talk for a few minutes while I go grab the rest of what you ordered.”

“Uh. Alright,” Edan replied hesitantly, following behind the wildclaw as quickly as he could manage.

The table was completely covered in various items by the time they returned, and Zuehal quickly promised he’d be back to look them over as he set down the bags he’d been carrying. Edan dropped his, as well, and followed as the wildclaw ushered him behind a hanging curtain that covered the back of his tent.

“Hello, Angie,” Zuehal greeted warmly, smiling as he gestured toward Edan. “I believe I’ve found a home for you to go to, if you feel comfortable. This is Edan, I’ve known him for a number of years now.”

The dragon that blinked up at him looked quite... odd. Edan didn’t know exactly what she was. It was the mane that was most confusing; incredibly long black hair draped down to cover much of her body - and her limbs as well. What he could see was covered in both scales and what looked like burns. She brushed her hair from her eyes and offered a claw to him. It was only then he could discern she looked mostly like a nocturne.

“Hello, Angie,” he greeted, carefully shaking her talon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you,” she replied in what was barely more than a whisper.

“Angie here’s clan got caught up in... an unpleasant series of skirmishes,” Zuehal explained. “Her parents paid me to get her to safety, preferably somewhere rather... quiet.”

“Well, can’t say we don’t have that,” Edan replied. “Though it’ll be a bit cramped for you where I live for now. We’ll be building soon, but for now it’s basically... two rooms.”

“Well, so long as it’s bigger than a tent,” she replied, still barely audible. A nervous smile briefly ghosted across her face.

“And... Zuehal, is this a permanent arrangement?” he asked, turning to look at the wildclaw. “If people are gonna come calling for her it needs to be through you, I’m not giving up my location - ”

“I know, I know,” Zuehal replied, waving his hands dismissively. “You have my word, Edan. If her parents call for her return, I’ll come by and advertise another sale. Maybe leave a little mark on the bottom of the notice so you have a signal to watch for. I won’t give up your... secret hideout.”

Edan frowned.

“Anyway, I’ll go get the rest of your order, now,” the wildclaw continued. “Feel free to chat a bit while I look through everything. I won’t be long.”

Edan and the strange little dragon sat in silence for a moment. He felt anxiety fill his chest as he began to realize her coming with him might actually happen. He looked back to her and took a deep breath.

“So... if you do come with us, there are some things you should know. Some ground rules,” Edan began. “The most important is to not wander off. We live remotely. There are many dangers out in the wild, and if you want to go out, you take someone with you to watch your back.”

“That seems sensible,” Angie replied, nodding.

“Everyone pulls their own weight in my clan,” he continued. “Now... you look to be injured, so we wouldn’t expect much of you until that’s... sorted. But otherwise you’d be expected to hunt, gather, work with the rest of us.”

Angie nodded again.

“And finally...” Edan sighed. “There are dangerous groups out there, and people we have to protect. It sounds a lot like what you’ve been dealing with already, which is why I’m hoping I can trust you. I’ll introduce you to the rest of my clan soon, and promise me you won’t trust anyone else - if you do see someone else out there, in the woods, you tell one of us so we can deal with it. Make sure it’s safe.”

“I... I’m not sure I understand,” she replied quietly, giving him a worried look.

“I’m saying where I live - and the people who live in it - are safe, because I keep it hidden,” Edan stated. “So if you’re going to come with me, you have to do your part to protect it too.”

“Oh,” Angie nodded. “Of course. I promise I will.”

“Okay, good,” Edan replied, letting out some of his nerves with a quick sigh. “So... what is it that happened to you? Does... that need treatment?”

“Uh, to put it simply, the house I was in was torched,” she replied, grimacing. “And there’s not really anything to do about these burns aside from keep them clean until they heal on their own...”

“Solveig might be able to help,” Edan offered. “Or - well, we have a few healers. Might be able to dull the pain a bit at least, speed it along...”

Zuehal poked his head in through the curtain, smiling curiously at the two.

“So, what do you think?”

“I think this will work,” Angie replied. Edan nodded silently in agreement.

“Excellent! Let’s head out then,” Zuehal grinned and pulled back the curtain for them both. “I think we were able to work all the extras out while you were talking.”

“Extras?” Edan asked, giving Zuehal a confused look before turning and seeing the nocturne quartet, who were all holding scrolls.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr nuzlocke #THE WHOLE GANG #meet:#oc: angie #oc: zuehal

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archaeoraptor · 7 years

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A lot of these are liable to change on a whim but \o/ some ratings! Used a mental scale of dislike (🚫) < neutral (gray star) < it’s doing its thing and I respect that (one star) < like (two stars) < a favorite (three stars) < MEGA favorite (shiny star) < mega top eternal favorite forever (heart).

Ridgebacks have grown on me since I first saw ‘em, but something still bugs me about the face.

I would love to put spirals under mega favorite, especially the male for his big doofy grin, but I saw them flipped once and haven’t been able to look at spirals the same way again. Sorry, noodles. The box cannot comfortably contain you.

Male imperials get a star taken off because the hing leg muscle looks like a weird overgrown blob and I’m petty.

The only reason basic genes didn’t get a dislike is because sometimes basic is better than throwing something on just to have something, especially with tertiaries. Also, I have a triple basic who I don’t intend on geneing any time soon, and somehow it’d just feel rude to downvote basic. My logic makes sense.

Daub might have two stars for sentimental value because for some reason it was my top favorite primary when I first joined, that and the recently-released vipera. Alas I tend to find it too plain nowadays.

I really want to like filigree but it just... really doesn’t work on a lot of dragons of mine, and its accent stone colors can just look awkward. But it’s got that ~shiny new~ factor right now, so we’ll see. :Tc

Crackle is good, fight me. Admittedly a pain to draw and definitely not for every dragon, but the ones that do make it work? Ya just can’t beat this jagged disaster.

I love all blues indiscriminately. All of them. There’s really not a single color I dislike, but some are easier to match with other colors/genes/apparel/etc. than others.

(template by Nutflakez)

#my wasteland now #fr rateit

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tsarifr · 6 years

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ashfall waste, flamecaller, guardian, ridgeback, earth, apparel, crossroads, and starfall celebration ?

The Ashfall Waste - What’s your favourite part of the site?

Answered here

Flamecaller - How do you determine jobs for the dragons in your clan?

There isn’t really any one way. Some, like my matriarch, are my progen and it just felt like the natural progression. My warriors were the dragons I use most in the coli, so again it felt natural - same goes for my clan healer, who happened to be the dragon I gave aid and made my coli healer.

Sometimes I threw apparel on them and got ideas from that, and at other times I just stared at the dragon until something jumped out at me, or even had a role in my head and glared at my lair until a role-less dragon volunteered itself. I actually changed Tora’s role around. Originally he was going to be my Insect Catcher (because I needed one and he was the only insect-eater without a role at the time), but no, he just had to be a mercenary, so in the end I gave in and the clan was insect hunter-less for a time until Wana joined.

Nowadays everyone has their role and I’m pretty happy with it, so now I only buy dragons to fit vacant roles that I have (half-heartedly keeping an eye out for a crystal mage, star mage and moon mage at the moment).

Guardian - What’s your favourite starter breed?

Answered here

Ridgeback - What’s one breed you could never go without having in your lair?

Despite being one of my lesser favoured breeds, it would have to be a fae. As an Arcanite, I’m kinda drawn to them anyway, and with my clan matriarch being one, lore-wise if I didn’t have one then my clan would fall apart.

Earth - Do you have flight ambassadors? Why or why not?

Yes, I do! I admit it, originally I got them because it seemed like everyone else had one and it was the ‘done’ thing to do (in my eyes, at least), but over time they’ve grown into their roles properly and now I don’t think my clan could function properly without them. At the very least, I wouldn’t be fostering many inter-clan relationships without those guys.

Apparel - Do you prefer to dress your dragons for their roles or what you think looks best on them?

Honestly it’s a mix. I like to acknowledge their roles in how they dress, but at the same time I don’t like trapping myself into the corner of ‘they’re a healer so they have to wear healer apparel’ etc. As I mentioned above, sometimes it’s throwing random clothes onto a dragon that gets them their role, rather than the other way around.

Crossroads - Do you ever check in on dragons you’ve sold to see how they’re doing?

Oh yes! I love doing that, even though most of them are exalted or in dead lairs - sometimes I get lucky and the dragon’s still active. I think one of two of them even have lore (it’s been a while since I did my last sweep... I’m due another soon, methinks).

Starfall Celebration - What’s your favorite elemental holiday?

It is cliche and boring if I say Starfall Celebration? Although I have to admit Riot of Rot is a very close second. I love Plague and their aesthetic and everything (as well as the fact Mire is a good place to grind - makes money-making easier than a few other fests).

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sparkledeerfr · 7 years

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Dear Director pt 2

[Pt One here]

Lady was angry, and yes some of that anger was directed at herself, but a good chunk of it was at how stuck she felt.

She knew the Director was lying- whether it was to protect herself or another didn’t matter at the moment- the point was others could be in danger and Lady did not know how to find the truth. She could roll up to Lightning territory herself, but likely the Director would see her coming a mile off. Lady had destroyed her last corporation and laboratory in a fit of altruism, after all. It wouldn’t happen a second time. That meant Lady would need help, but from where?

(read more link)

Of course there were plenty of people she could ask and no doubt they would help, but that would mean revealing her past, what she had done. She did not mind that so much if it got the job done, but the problem was being certain that the job would be done correctly. Viltri could certainly lawyer the place to oblivion, but Lightning types were nothing if not masters of corporations and shell games. The first official paperwork sent their way and the shredders would get to running and the answer would be buried under another five aliases. This wasn’t a job for Daud, or Adeline (if they could even find the time)...but who else was there?

Lady ran names through her head as she paced, trying to think of someone. If only Max hadn’t left! That was exactly the type of person she needed- a spy. But of course they no longer had a spy unless you counted Vice and Hox policing the underground, and they would be about as useful as taking a hammer to the situation, which honestly she almost felt like doing.

Finally her mental deck went to the cards of the Casino Quarter- entirely useless of course aside from a gift here or there. There was no way she could call on any of them for help unless it was something that directly affected them or the safety of the cities. The lesser members...Bells, Lysander, Vaughn...nope. Though Vaughn could probably track their expenses like a champ and follow the financial trail if she got him the information. Snow? No way. Jesse?

Jesse. Now that was a thought.

----

Jesse’s natural curiosity got the better of her when the invitation to meet Lady for a ‘special side job’ was put forth. The ridgeback was nothing if not ruggedly dependable and lawful, so the thought that Lady could use her for something was deliciously tempting.

They met at Prizma’s, which was of course the place anyone of importance did their underhanded work and/or drinking and/or socializing. It was a sort of holy ground for all factions- everyone knew you didn’t start crap there, not unless you wanted to get a whole heap of it back on you. Jesse spun a coin on the table as the ridgeback sat down at her booth and Prizma herself came over to take their order. The way Priz eyed them told Jesse that even she found this unusual, though not quite enough so for the midnight ridgeback to care. Priz made a lot of money off of not caring and keeping her mouth shut, after all.

But Lady surprised Jesse again by ordering three martinis, the first of which she downed like a shot. It was empty before it hit the table.

“That bad?” Jesse asked, spinning a coin and taking a sip of water with lime.

“Want one?” Lady asked.

“I like to keep my head clear when considering a job,” Jesse replied. “Now what matter of job can’t you complete on your own? I shudder to think.”

“I’d like to give you a bit of background so that you understand why this needs to be done, but it's something quite personal and something that I’ve never told another dragon, not even those in my old clan. If I tell you this, it can never leave this table. Can you agree to this?”

“Personal is one thing,” Jesse said, eyeing the ridgeback before looking down to spin her coin again. “But never ever I can’t promise, I’m afraid. Things have a way of coming back that might pose a danger to someone else, but I can promise that I’m good at keeping my mouth shut unless that danger shows up.”

“A reasonable distinction,” Lady said, sitting back to think as she sipped on her second martini. “Basically I was involved with some genetic manipulation and child rearing programs designed to create a sound individual. For my end I merely helped design the genetic code and lent my expertise in robotics. I had no idea the program was actually loaned eggs from families and experimented on them.”

“Genetically sound individuals?”

“I thought it a fanciful pursuit- could we design a dragon that could, for example, withstand Plague territory without being Plague born? Could a dragon that could do that also see in Shadow territory, or withstand the magical arcs of Arcane? To me it really seemed like research into the limits of dragon kind, until I found out that some were serious about it.”

“And they experimented on eggs? Children.”

“Oh yes. Once I found this out I was of course furious,” Lady said, her eyes somewhat glazed as she sipped more of her drink. “I raised a stink and got the program entirely shut down, but it was too late. Some children were already changed by what we- what I- had done. They were still being taught and overseen by the program.”

“And they...lived?”

“Some,” Lady said, looking even further away as though thinking. “You know West?”

“Yes of course,” Jesse said, at first wondering where this was going and then it dawned on her. “Oh. Oh dear does he know?”

“I think he just believes that he was in a very high end school,” Lady replied. “I don’t think he even knows what he can do. And of course the real problem is Eights.”

“How is this more of a problem?”

“Eights is not identified in any paperwork. I know there was another dragon going further with the research without supervision. I’d heard her refer to ‘mistakes’, and when the program was shut down I made sure she could never work legitimately again, but still. I don’t know what happened to her ‘mistakes’. I had thought she was just referring to defunct lines of genetic code, but now I can’t be sure. West and Eights have too many similarities. I have to be positive that she’s not harming others, that this isn’t still going on.”

“And you would like me to check this out?”

“Yes,” Lady said, looking down to the smaller skydancer. “They’ll see me coming a mile off, as I was the one to destroy the program last time. I need you to find out what’s going on, please.”

Jesse sat back and considered, though her mind privately was already made up. “I’ll need all the information you have, of course.”

“I can’t pay as much as Swank.”

“My dear if what you say is true, I will do this job for free. And if I find anything like you describe I will burn everything to the ground.”

“This is precisely that outcome I would like.”

----

The Lightning corp knew how to hide things, but they were not prepared for Jesse. Of course few are.

She was prepared to wait, prepared to look in the small corners, to smile at the terrible in order to get the job done. After all she had done it before.

Swank sent her messages wondering where she was, but Jesse was determined and only sent a message that she would be back later. Lady was not one to lie, and Jesse despite herself would do whatever she could to save an innocent that needed it. She would find Lady’s mysterious doctor and determine what had happened at all costs. And if Lady had lied, well...

At all costs of course turned out to be compliments and and a bit of snooping. Jesse went to Iman first and determined that the Director was nervous but prepared to cover for the mysterious other doctor that Jesse only knew as Maria. It was not the kind of nervousness Jesse knew as covering for a friend- the kind of anger underlying ‘please don’t test this’. This was covering one’s own butt because once long ago you did so for another that did not deserve it. She found the trail easily enough. Posing as a skittish but willing intern seemed almost like cheating once she had uncovered how to unseal documents thanks to Lady.

The deepest of Maria’s trail ended at an abandoned underground facility that had been sealed tight, littered with traps and plastered with warnings- but all that to Jesse just meant she was in the right place. The first level was rather boring to her, no information and nothing but outdated equipment left to rot and gather dust. A few yellowed notes and printouts of no interest.

But the basement...the basement was filled with giant vials, each large enough for a skydancer to grow in. She found preserved bodies of everything from hatchlings to grown adults, each with a decayed corresponding note telling why they had failed and why they were preserved here. Each had a number and no name.

But one she had found was empty- number 88. Vaulted because they were determined to be too weak and small to survive. It was broken open. Someone long before her had seen that 88 was alive and saved them. A mystery to be sure, but not one that she was concerned with right now.

Jesse’s hand clenched involuntarily as she read the notes on the other preserved dragons. How many others had been alive that Maria had decided to preserve? How many others had she decided to end because they did not meet her expectations? How many had lived and what did she do with them?

Jesse checked each of the giant vials, smashed them open and buried the bodies in rubble because they at least deserved this, what she could give them. Someone would care that they had died. Some bare part of her hoped that one would be like 88, but none were. Each were pale and lifeless despite their dark coloration. She set fire to what was left.

Jesse clenched her jaw and determined the she had a new purpose. This would happen to no one else. They would know what a dragon declared to be inferior at a young age could do.

---

Maria was found dead three days later, and the inn keepers were she had stayed were disturbed. She had always seemed so kind, but the way she had died….they alerted the authorities and slept with a light on at night.

---

Director Iman was on edge. She was first alerted when Lady had written her, knowing that the ridgeback was as tenacious as the Stormcatcher himself, and was prepared to out Doctor Maria should it be necessary to save her own career. Iman had set up the necessary paperwork trail and had run through a few lies in her head to smooth things over should things come to that.

Director Iman was prepared for Lady- a lawful member of society who chose mercy above all else.

She was not prepared for Jesse, the intern who smiled nervously and wore large nerdy glasses and dutifully did all of her paperwork. When she heard about Maria, Iman only grew more anxious but she was glad for her reliable and supportive colleagues, including this intern who smiled and asked if she’d like these copies stapled. Security around here was tight, and honestly Maria being gone was perhaps a blessing in disguise.

Director Iman died on her office chair after Jesse had determined nothing else of her old corporation was left aside from Lady and the few project dragons.

After all Jesse had thoroughly checked.

---

“The job’s completed,” Jesse said, passing the paper that was on 88’s vial to Lady. “They were the only one left alive I’m afraid, but I don’t know who saved them. I may be looking at that on my own time.”

“Perhaps another doctor grew a conscience,” Lady said, eyeing the note carefully (Jesse turned her head at this, knowing there was no other living doctors, because she would have found them and asked them). “This sounds so….detached. I’m glad they at least survived. Thank you, Jesse.”

Lady was disturbed for a moment at the way Jesse was looking her over. “You will let me know if anything like this happens again?” Jesse asked, her voice level as she sat with her chin resting on her hands.

“Yes of course. Thank you again, knowing what they are really helps….but what happened to Doctor Maria?”

“It was a burn to the ground kind of scenario I’m afraid,” Jesse said, her red eyes burning into Lady’s bright blue ones. “And you I like, but if this thing of you deciding to help others changes and turns into what I saw, you know what happens my darling.”

“I would be glad for the correction.”

#sparklelore #lady learns that jesse is not so much a spy as a malfunctioning mini nuke launcher that you point at your enemies and hope #she could have asked swank beforehand but y'know #this one's also kinda long but felt too short to split into 2 #aka the part where Lady's painful past is mostly solved by stabbing real good #lady #jesse

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thegladelf · 7 years

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Killian Jones and The Girl Who Lived 7/8

Oh boy, y’all, we’ve reached the penultimate chapter. I’m so, so grateful to everyone who has stuck with me this far... @icecubelotr44 gets props, as always, for being an awesome beta and pushing me better my writing. I’ve noticed a couple of bad grammar habits I wasn’t aware of as I edited this week.

Also, make sure you check out @jemmingart ‘s awesome artwork for this chapter. (LInk to be added!) She and @prongsie have totally knocked it out the park for my little story.

Chapter has been posted to A3 and FF.net if that’s your preferred reading platform! Don’t forget to subscribe if you head over there. (ANd feel free to leave a comment, I love talking to y’all.)

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: G

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Chapter Seven: Demons in the Dark

The next week of Killian’s life was dominated by the frenzied treks he and Emma and David made to Hagrid’s hut--several times a day--trying to talk Hagrid into setting the dragon free.

“What kind of person would I be if I sent him out in the world on his own? He’s just a baby,” he protested as the so-called “baby” set fire to the curtains. The dragon—who Hagrid had named Norbert—was quickly approaching the size of a large dog. Large enough, in fact, that Fang cowered under the table. Hagrid hastened to beat out the fire. “He couldn’t make it out there. Something’d make a meal of him.”

David shook his head, clearly about to say what they were all thinking—that most things would be more likely to run from Norbert than eat him—but Killian tugged on his sleeve, shaking his head. He had an idea.

Ever the stubborn one, David tried to speak again.

Emma cut him off. “Well, we told Mary Margaret we’d meet her to study. Exams coming, you know.”

She grabbed David’s arm, practically hauling him off his feet and toward the door. Killian followed.

“Oi, Emma.” David shook her off as soon as they were outside. “What are you on? We’ve got to convince him to get rid of that thing before he gets caught.”

“I know,” Emma hissed. “But Killian has an idea.”

She said it like a fact, as if she read his mind.

“Not here,” Killian said, glancing around. He couldn’t see anyone watching as they trudged back up the hill to the castle, but few places felt safe after they caught Regina spying. “Let’s get inside.”

David and Emma followed him up the hill, wet grass clinging to the hems of their robes and scattering on the stone floor as they entered the castle.

“There you are!” Mary Margaret exclaimed as she caught side of them. Her satchel dug into her shoulder under the weight of all the books she was carrying. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where were you?”

“Where do you think?” David asked.

Mary Margaret sighed, the force of her exasperation causing her bangs to floof up for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” David shot back. “Do you want to see Hagrid get arrested?”

“Oh course not,” she replied. “But there’s not much we can do about it.” She pulled her binder out of the bag. “However, we can do something about your grades. Let’s go.”

“No, Killian—“

“The library’s as good a place as any,” Killian said, already tugging David in that direction. Arguing with Mary Margaret would waste more time than simply traveling to the library. “And she’s right about your grades.”

“Hey! I make decent marks.”

“When you want to,” Mary Margaret grumbled.

The library was crowded when they arrived and Killian immediately regretted acquiescing. There were students at nearly every table.

Mary Margaret must have seen his look of dismay, because she said, “I know, it’s a bit crowded for my tastes, but the common room and the Great Hall are worse. I think we might be able to find a quiet spot in the stacks.”

“Then let’s go.” Emma barged into the library like she owned the place and the fact that no one looked up from their studies spoke volumes about the general attitude toward exams. Killian didn’t know any students that had gone as far as Mary Margaret—at least, none of the first years he knew had a color-coded binder thick enough to be used as a murder weapon—but nearly everyone was here studying right now.

Mary Margaret was right, however, there were entire sections empty in the stacks. Emma paused at three different rows before she finally picked one.

“This should be far enough away,” she said plunking down with her back to the musty books. “But I’d whisper.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary. It’s not like the answers aren’t there for everyone if they just crack open a book.” Mary Margaret dumped her bag next to Emma and set to pulling out her books. “Okay, now, History of Magic and Potions are the hardest, I think. So…”

“Actually, Mary Margaret--” Killian began.

“No, it’ll be a good cover,” Emma said. She, like all of them, practically slept with her school satchel at this point. Carefully, she pulled out her ink bottle and quill and several rolls of parchment.

Killian and David followed suit and soon all four of them were spread out on the floor, looking like the had quite the study session going. David had forgotten his History of Magic book, but Mary Margaret scooted over so that he could use hers. He thanked her and turned to Killian.

“So what’s this big idea?” he asked.

Emma leaned forward, nodding.

“What about Tom?” Killian asked, feeling a little odd with all that attention on him.

David’s nose crinkled. “Tom? Tom who?”

Emma smacked him. “Your brother, you dunce. You know, the one you claim works with dragons.”

“Exactly,” Killian said, twirling his quill nervously. “Do you think he could help?”

“Blimey, Killian, why didn’t I think about that?” He jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over his robes as he rushed off, throwing back, “I’ll write him straight away.”

Killian caught an ink bottle before it tipped completely over.

The sound of footsteps grew close again as David ran up to them again. “Emma can I borrow Hedwig? Better not trust this to a school owl."

“Sure.” Emma shrugged. She didn't exactly have much use for Hedwig at the moment. Killian used the owl more than she did, in fact.

He watched David race off—they heard Madam Pence hushing him all the way back where they were—and prayed that Tom would be able to help them. He wasn’t sure Hagrid’s hut would survive a sixth attempt to set it on fire.

Mary Margaret nodded in approval. “That was a really good idea, Killian.” And then, she started quizzing them from her History of Magic book, despite Emma’s pained groan.

The next few days crawled by stretching all of them thin. They searched for Hedwig every time the owls came in the morning, but snowy owl was nowhere to be seen.

“Romania’s a long way off,” David reassured them. “When we used to send Errol, it would take him weeks.”

“But that’s because Errol is very old, isn’t it?” Mary Margaret put in, giving David a look.

“Oh. Yes,” he said around a mouthful of pudding. “We hire an owl when we want to send stuff to Tommy now. Takes about a week.”

By Wednesday, Killian had convinced himself that not only had it been a horrible idea, but Hedwig had obviously got lost and that was his fault.

They were all watching the clock and not just because it was well past when they should be in bed. David had gone down to help Hagrid feed the dragon as it had become a two person job. It was so late that Emma, Killian, and Mary Margaret were the only ones left in the common room. As always, Mary Margaret had her head bent over a book, but Emma was pacing in front of the fireplace.

“What if it’s eaten him?” she asked, turning to the two of them.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Emma,” Mary Margaret said without looking up. “Hagrid wouldn’t let it come to that.”

“You want to bet?” David stood in the open portrait door, cradling his hand with a sour look on his face. He marched over, holding his hand out to them. A bloody handkerchief was wrapped around it. “It bit me! I won’t be able to hold a quill for a week.” He flounced down into an armchair. “That dragon is the most horrible animal I have ever met, but Hagrid talks about like it’s the sweetest little thing you ever saw. He actually told me off for frightening it.”

“You should get that looked at,” Mary Margaret said. She closed her book, coming over to examine David’s hand.

He snatched it away before she could touch it. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Then why are you making such a big fuss?” she demanded.

“For the principle of the thing.”

All four of them jumped at the tap on the window.

Killian looked over, not sure what he expected—Regina on her broom, maybe, spying yet again—but when he saw the flutter of white through the pane, he jumped to his feet.

“Hedwig!” Emma darted across the room and yanked the window open. Her owl glided in, doing a neat turn before she settled on Emma’s arm, holding out her leg. A letter was tied round it. Emma quickly untied it and sent Hedwig off to the owlery. “Thanks, girl. I’ll come up with a treat in the morning.”

By that time, Killian and the others were already crowded around her, leaning over Emma’s shoulder to read the letter.

Dear David,

How are you? Thanks for the letter—I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me again next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark. Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love,

Tom

David, Killian, and Emma all looked at each other.

“Do you think we can do it?” David asked.

“We’ve got my invisibility cloak,” Emma said, fiddling with a curl. “It’s big enough, I think.”

Killian shook his head. “For two people and a dragon maybe, but not for all four of us.”

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret said. She snapped her book closed and began rolling up her parchment with crisp motions. “I’m not getting involved in this. Hagrid is a grown up, it’s not our job to fix his messes.”

“But Mary Margaret…”

“No. The three of you can risk your academic careers if you like, but I’m going to do the smart thing.” She hesitated, lips pressed tight together as her eyes fell on each of them. In the silence, the popping of the fire sounded loud as gunshots. “Good night.”

Emma and David watched her go before meeting each other’s eyes.

“Killian,” Emma said, drawing his name out like she had something unpleasant to say, “I think the two people should be me and David.”

“No!” Killian winced as he voice echoed through the mostly empty room. “It’s my idea. If you get in trouble, it’ll be my fault.”

“I know. I know.” She touched his hand. “But, Killian, you have the most to lose. I know how much being here means to you.”

Killian swallowed. There was no denying the cold pit that had been in his stomach since Mary Margaret hinted at expulsion. Liam needed him to stay in school. But Emma couldn’t take the dragon to the astronomy tower by herself. The choice should have been easy, but Killian felt like his heart was been torn right down the middle.

“Emma’s right,” David said with a shrug. He leaned back, keeping his wounded hand propped up on the couch. “If she or I get expelled, it’s not a big deal.” He paused. “Well, my mom will think it’s a big deal, but I don’t think I care much.”

“It was my idea.”

“And it’s my cloak!” Emma said.

“And Tom is my brother,” David added.

Killian looked between them and sighed. Emma had that look in her eye, the one that said she would rather hurtle toward the ground face first than concede defeat.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He got up and stomped upstairs, ignoring David’s quieter footsteps behind him.

# # #

Killian had every intention of being angry with them in the morning, but one look at David’s white face changed his mind for him.

David’s hand looked truly awful. It was all pink and had swelled to twice its normal size.

“You need to go see Madam Pomfrey,” Killian hissed so that their other roommates wouldn’t overhear them.

David’s eyes went wide. “I can’t do that. She might recognize--” He snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting to their roommate Will, who was eyeing them suspiciously. “You know. What did this.”

Killian tugged at his bangs. “Maybe Mary Margaret can help.”

“No! She’ll force me to go to Madam Pomfrey.” David rewrapped his hand hastily. “It’s not bad, Killian, it just hurts.”

It did hurt very much if the straight line of David’s lips were any indication. As the day progressed, they pressed tighter and tighter until David barely had a mouth at all. His color didn’t improve any, either. Finally, Mary Margaret cornered him after lunch, demanding to see his hand. All four of them huddled together as she took a peek. Killian had a hard time keeping his lunch down when he saw the cut. It had turned from an angry--but healthy--pink to a putrid green in a matter of hours.

“Poison is my guess,” Mary Margaret muttered. “You have to go the hospital wing, David.”

David didn’t even protest. “Yeah, I think I better. You three go to class.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked.

David nodded. “Yeah. I’ll run up there, drink something foul, and be set to rights in no time. No reason for you three to miss class.”

The next two periods were torture. By the time they had gotten to the end of their second class, David hadn’t shown back up. Killian was convinced that that shade of green could only mean that the poison had spread too far for the hand to be salvaged—and it would all be Killian’s fault for not convincing him to go to the infirmary sooner. Or David had collapsed on the way and lay unconscious in a random hallway and that was Killian’s fault, too. He should have gone with him.

At the end of their last class, Killian shoved all of his things into the bag, eschewing his usual care. He winced as he threw a book in the bag after his quill, hoping that he hadn’t just broken the thing. He only had two. Across the aisle, Emma performed a similar ritual, though in her case this was the way she usually packed up after class.

“Are you ready?” she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Ready for what?” Regina asked. “Going somewhere, you two?”

Emma’s shoulders stiffened. “If we were, it’d be none of your business, Regina.”

The other girl smiled, her eyes dark. She shrugged. “Fine, be that way.”

She spun on her heel, flouncing out of the classroom far more than the situation warranted.

“Do you think she knows what happened to David?” Emma asked.

“Nah. How would she?”

She did.

When they reached the hospital wing, Regina was leaving, her books tucked in the crook of her arm. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she passed them, smirking.

Emma stumbled to a stop, watching her go, waiting until she was out of sight to ask, “What do you think that was about?”

“Maybe she has a friend here, too?” Killian shrugged. He just wanted to make sure that David was okay and not dying some horrific death.

It was quite calm in the hospital wing, with its tall windows and white-swathed beds. Clean and quiet, not at all what Killian expected from a hospital. Though, he only had experience with one, so he supposed he wasn’t really an expert.

David was in a bed about halfway down on the right and, to Killian’s eye, he was not dying a horrific death. However, he wasn’t exactly okay. His eyes stretched wide as saucers and he still looked pale as a ghost. Killian thought it was because he was still in pain, but David quickly disabused both of them of that notion.

“Regina was here,” he hissed as soon as Emma and Killian made it over. “She stopped by to ‘borrow’ one of my books—well, she really stopped by to make fun of me, but she kept threatening to tell Madam Pomfrey what really bit me. I told her it was dog, but I know she doesn’t believe me." He gestured helplessly at the empty table. "I gave her one of my books just so Madam Pomfrey would make her leave."

Emma sat in the chair next to the bed with a smile. “That’s alright, I’m sure you can borrow a copy from one of us.”

David flushed bright pink. "I kind of was using Tom's note as a bookmark."

Killian groaned, tilting his head back. "Which means Regina has it."

"Yeah." David picked at the bandage on his hand, refusing to meet their eyes.

"Well, it's too late to change anything," Emma said.

"Emma..." Killian didn't know what to say. He knew they were on thin ice already. Norbert wouldn't fit in that tiny hut much longer, but Regina had all the ammunition she needed to get them expelled.

"Do you have a better idea, Killian?" she asked. "It's Thursday. We're supposed to be on top of the astronomy tower with Norbert on Saturday. There's no way an owl can make it in that amount of time. And more letters just increase our chance of getting caught."

"Then let Hagrid take him up there," Killian protested. “Mary Margaret is right, it’s his mess to fix.”

David scoffed. "If we left it up to Hagrid, that dragon would eat him out of hut and home."

"Killian, it’s alright. I’m sure that David will be fine by Saturday. You can still stay out of it." The words were harsh, but Emma laid a hand on Killian's arm and smiled a little. She understood.

Killian studied David’s hand in its bulky bandages. "No, better not to risk it with that hand, mate. I'm still in."

"Don't worry," she said brightly. "We'll be fine."

The sinking feeling in Killian's stomach told him otherwise, but he wouldn't let her do this alone.

# # #

“Yer late,” Hagrid said as he let them into the hut on Saturday night. He eyed them disapprovingly.

“Peeves,” Emma said and that was the end of the matter.

“Ah, well, I guess I shouldn’t complain,” he said, placing his hand on a big wooden crate. “Gave us a bit more time together.” Something moved inside the crate and there was a flash of snapping teeth. “Got lots o’ rats and brandy in there. Tide ‘im over for the journey.” He cleared his throat, sniffling a little. “An’…an’ his teddy bear’s in there.”

There came a rip from inside the crate.

Better the bear than our fingers, Killian thought as they threw the invisibility cloak over the crate.

He wasn’t even sure he and Emma would be able to lift it on their own, it was nearly as tall as they were. But, baby dragons, it turned out, didn’t weigh much. Even if they were the size of a large dog. Once he and Emma were under the cloak, the most difficult part of lifting the crate was that it was bulky.

And there was a baby dragon inside, shifting all over the place as he murdered his teddy bear.

“Bye-bye, Norbert,” Hagrid called in a tearful voice. “Mommy will never forget you.”

By the time they reached the castle, Norbert had tired of the teddy and, as far as Emma and Killian could tell, had decided to take a nap. Which was very lucky, because as they reached the corridor to the astronomy tower there was a scuffle ahead of them.

Killian and Emma pressed close to the wall, hoping the shadows would hide them. Killian braced himself for the shout until he remembered they wore the invisibility cloak. Then he switched to praying that Norbert wouldn’t wake up and start growling.

The two figures in the corridor came closer, the lamplight revealing the oddest sight Killian had ever seen.

Professor McGonagall with her hair done up in a net and wearing a tartan bathrobe.

“Detention!” she exclaimed, drawing Killian’s attention to the squirming student with McGonagall’s fingers pinched tight around their ear.

It was Regina. He had been so taken up with the sight of McGonagall in something beside her heavy witches robes that he hadn’t recognized Regina at first, but it was her, stretching up onto her tiptoes and grimacing in pain.

“And twenty points from Slytherin!” McGonagall continued. “Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you—”

“You don’t understand, Professor,” Regina said. “Emma Swan’s coming—she’s got a dragon!”

“What utter rubbish! Lies! Come with me, Malfoy, we shall see Professor Snape about you!” She hustled Regina ahead of her, the light of her lamp fading quickly down the hall and around the corner. “I hope you enjoy, detention, Miss Malfoy.”

Killian wanted to crow, but he bit his lip instead.

He and Emma made up the stairs without a hitch, both of them a little elated after their near miss. As soon as they’d broken out into the cool night air, Killian threw the hood back from his face.

He grinned at Emma. “Regina’s got detention. I could sing!”

“Don’t,” Emma advised, but she was grinning, too.

The two of them settled for chuckling silently as they waited for Tom’s friends. It didn’t take long. They swooped in out of the darkness ten minutes later. They were a cheery lot who gladly showed Emma and Killian the harness they would be carrying Norbert in. Killian took mental notes, sure that Hagrid would want to know the details. It took all of them to wrestle Norbert into the thing and get him buckled in. Then they shook hands with Emma and Killian and they were off.

Emma and Killian watched them fly off with Norbert and didn’t feel the least bit sad to see the dragon go.

“Let’s go to bed,” Emma murmured.

Still a little giddy, the two of them headed back down the spiral staircase. Killian didn’t think anything could spoil his mood tonight.

“Well, well, well,” a dry, raspy voice said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

They froze, eyes widening in horror as Filch stepped out of the shadows, a leer stretching from ear to ear.

“We are in trouble.”

Emma clutched at her shoulders and gulped. The invisibility cloak was sitting at the top of the stairs.

The old caretaker shot forward, taking each of them by an arm. “We’ll see what Professor McGonagall has to say about this. What a night. What a night.” He kept muttering all the way down to the first floor, where he deposited them in front of the professor’s study to wait.

“This can’t possibly get any worse,” Emma said.

Killian nodded, his fingers picking at the cuff of this shirt. He kept trying to think of something—anything—that would explain their presence in the astronomy tower without getting them in trouble. But he knew that astronomy class was the only time students were allowed up there.

Professor McGonagall appeared a few minutes later and she had Mary Margaret in tow.

“Emma! Killian!” she said as soon as she saw them. “I was trying to warn you. I heard Regina bragging that she was going to catch you. I told you this would happen!”

“Am I to understand, Ms. Blanchard, that you knew they were planning this little excursion and you didn’t say a word?” Professor McGonagall propped her hands on her hips, glaring down at all three of them. Even the tartan robe failed to soften her glare. She looked remarkably like Norbert before he set something on fire. “I would never have believed it—especially of you two,” she pointed first to Killian and then to Mary Margaret, “if I didn’t have the proof before me. Now, explain yourselves.”

Not even Mary Margaret answered.

“I think I know what’s going on here,” the professor said. “It’s apparent to anyone with a brain that you fed Regina Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get her out and into trouble. Don’t deny it, I’ve already caught her. I suppose you think it’s funny that Ms. Blanchard heard the story, too.”

Mary Margaret pressed her lips together and stared Emma down.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! Detentions for all three of you—yes, even you, Ms. Blanchard, nothing gives you the right to walk around the school at night, especially with all the things that have happened this semester and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“Fifty?” Emma’s voice went all high and screechy.

Killian’s stomach sank. Fifty points would lose them the lead that Emma had just risked death to get them.

“Fifty points,” Professor McGonagall said, her nostrils flaring with each inhale. “Each.”

They tried to argue her down, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She sent them off to bed, her voice growing cold and chilly.

# # #

Mary Margaret refused to speak to Killian and Emma all the next day, though she deemed David fit for conversation.

She wasn't the only Gryffindor chuffed with them. Every single student in the school noticed the drop in Gryffindor’s points and more than a few Gryffindors went up to the teachers to point out the mistake. Professor McGonagall must have set everyone to rights because, by lunch time, everyone knew it was Emma Swan and a couple of other first years that cost them all those points.

"I wouldn't worry about it," David said. "Happy's lost tons of points getting into trouble with Leroy. They'll get over it."

"Have they ever lost us a hundred and fifty points in one go, though?" Emma asked, poking sullenly at her food.

Killian nudged her with his elbow. "Dave's right, Swan. And besides, you've still got us."

She smiled wanly.

"Seriously, Emma," David said around a mouthful of muffin, "what's got you so glum?"

Emma glanced left and right, before shoving her bowl aside. "I heard Heller this morning, as I was passing one of the classrooms. Pleading, like he was in a lot of pain and then… he agreed to something."

"To what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, he just said, 'All right, all right...’" She let that hang in the air for several seconds. "I'd bet twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape has everything he needs now."

Killian shook his head. "He still doesn't know how to get past Fluffy. Hagrid won't tell anyone that."

"David," Mary Margaret said, placing her spoon on the table, "you should tell Emma that she needs to go to Dumbledore. Like we should have done ages ago."

"We've got no proof!" Emma snapped. "You think Heller will back us up? He's terrified of Snape. Dumbledore will just think I made it up because Snape is so awful to me—that I just want to get him sacked."

"Then we'll find proof. If we just do a bit of poking around..." David started, but Killian cut him off.

"I think we've done enough poking around, mate," he said, pushing away from the table and picking up his astronomy books. "Poking around is what cost Gryffindor the house cup."

David looked to Emma, eyes imploring her to say something and Killian knew that if she did say something, he would be right behind her, regardless of what he wanted.

"No." Emma sighed. "We've done enough. It's not our problem."

Mary Margaret threw her hands in the air. "Finally!"

She nearly hit the owl trying to deliver a small slip of paper. The little barn owl screeched and dropped the note in her breakfast, flying away with an agitated swish of its tail feathers.

Emma and Killian got similar notes. Detention at eleven at that evening.

"With Filch," Emma groaned.

Filch chuckled with glee at their dejected faces when they showed up at the entrance hall. "Think twice about breaking the rules again, now, won't you?" He led them outside, mumbling about chains and thumb screws.

Even Regina looked miserable as they trekked down the hill. Killian realized where they were going quickly and nudged Emma, who walked with her head bowed.

"Look," he said, pointing to Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid stood outside with his dog Fang and a crossbow nearly tall as Killian.

"Abou' time," he said as they approached. "Yer half an hour late, Filch. Emma, Killian, Mary Margaret." He nodded at each of them in turn.

Filch sneered. "You shouldn't be too friendly with this lot, Hagrid, they're meant to be punished." He glared at each of them in turn. “I’ll be back at sunrise for what’s left of them.”

Hagrid snorted. “I’ll take over from here.”

He started toward the forest.

“I’m not going in there,” Regina whined.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said.

“If my mother knew I was doing this she’d—“

“Tell yeh this is how it’s done at Hogwarts.” Hagrid turned around to glare at Regina. “Yeh did wrong and now yer payin’ fer it. If yeh’d rather be expelled go back up there and start packin’.”

Regina stared back at Hagrid for a very long moment before finally dropping her gaze.

Emma covered her mouth with her hand and, Killian might have imagined it, but he thought he saw Mary Margaret smile briefly.

“Now that that’s settled…” Hagrid led them into the forest, keeping up a continuous litany of things in the forest that were dangerous.

Not that he needed to. The trees were so old and broad that even holding hands the five of them couldn’t reach around. Roots kept tripping Killian up. And, every now and then, he thought he heard the heavy tread of some giant creature. Hagrid stopped at the foot of a tree, pointing at a silvery substance on the ground. “See that? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn out there been hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. Put it out of it’s misery if we have ter.”

“And what if the thing hunting the unicorn gets us first.” Regina shivered, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Yer fine as long’s yer with me or Fang. An’ keep ter the path. Now, we’ll have teh split up. One group with me and one with Fang…”

“I want Fang!” Regina snapped, eyeing the dog’s long teeth.

“All right,” Hagrid said with a shrug. “But I warn yeh, he’s a bloody coward.” He lifted his lantern, indicating the left path. “Me, Emma, an’ Killian will go this way. And Mary Margaret, you, Regina, an’ Fang will go that way.” He swung his lantern to right path, this one just as dark and forbidding as the first. “Now, if yeh find the unicorn, I want yeh the send up green sparks with yer wands. And red sparks if yeh get in trouble. Get yer wands out and do a quick practice. That’s it. Be careful. Let’s go.”

He handed Fang’s leash to Mary Margaret. She took it with steady hands, holding it close to her chest as she and Regina started down their path. Killian and Emma followed Hagrid in silence, scanning the ground for more drops of the silvery blood. It flashed here and there in the moonlight. On a mossy stump. A crumbling boulder. A fallen tree.

"What could be killing the unicorns?" Killian asked as they tramped in Hagrid's giant footprints.

"Something fast and powerful," Hagrid growled. In the darkness he sounded very frightening and Killian had to remind himself that this was the same man who had cried over a baby dragon and called a three-headed dog Fluffy. "Have ter be ter catch a unicorn."

"A werewolf, maybe?" Killian asked softly, trying to think of the powerful creatures he'd read about.

"Not fast enough."

All of a sudden, Hagrid grabbed one of them in each massive hand and dodged behind a tree.

"Who's there?" he called, fitting an arrow to his crossbow. "I'm armed!"

Killian's jaw dropped as the tall figure came into view. At first, he thought it was a man mounted on a horse, but that wasn't quite right—as the moonlight fell on the newcomer it showed a man’s body joined at the waist with the body of a horse.

A centaur, Killian thought in awe.

“Ronan, it’s just you,” Hagrid said, lowering his crossbow. And then he walked up and shook the centaur’s hand.

"Oh," Emma murmured, "Mary Margaret's gonna be mad she missed this."

“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” Ronan said. He had a deep voice, like a slow stream in a quiet wood. There was a sadness in it. Like he’d seen far too much. He tilted his head at the sight of the crossbow. “Were you going to shoot me?”

“There’s sommat nasty in these woods, Ronan. Sommat that don’t belong here.” He toed a patch of bright blood on the ground. “Been killin’ unicorns. Oh, Ronan, this is Emma Swan and Killian Jones, by the way. Students at the school. This is Ronan, you two. He’s a centaur.”

Killian opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“We noticed,” Emma quipped.

“Do you learn much, up at your school?” Ronan asked her.

Emma shrugged.

Ronan nodded like she gave him a long, thought out answer. He sighed, his eyes searching upward. Killian followed his gaze, straining to see something through the thick canopy. It just looked like a great dark jumble to him.

Centaur eyes must have been better than human ones, because Ronan declared, “Mars is bright tonight.”

“Yeah,” Hagrid said in much the same tone that Emma used when Mary Margaret talked about her study charts. “Listen, Ronan, you got any idea what’s been comin’ after these unicorns?”

Ronan kept staring at the sky. “Always the innocent are the first victims.”

Hagrid sighed. “Yeah. But have you seen anythin’ unusual.”

“Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan repeated. “Unusually bright.”

A crunch and a rustle sounded from the direction Ronan had come from. Killian’s hand tightened around his wand as Hagrid brought the crossbow up again. Another centaur melted out of the darkness, His horse body shifting in and out of the light.

“Hullo, Bane,” Hagrid said. “All right?”

Bane—and that was an ominous name if Killian ever heard one—paused next to Ronan, searching the canopy as well.

“Mars is bright tonight,” he said finally.

“We’ve heard,” grumbled Hagrid. He sighed. “Right then, if either of you do see anythin’ unusual a bit closer to home, let me know, won’t yeh?” Eyes on Killian and Emma, he jerked his head further down the path. When they had gone far enough that the children couldn’t catch glimpses of the centaurs over their shoulders, Hagrid said, “Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer n’ the moon. No use when yeh need a straight answer outta ‘em.”

The skin on the back of Killian’s neck prickled as they kept walking. He missed the moon and the stars and the world beyond their flickering lanterns. His room and his bed were the only thing he wanted at the moment. He even missed David’s snoring.

Spotty red light cut through the darkness, bouncing off trees far in the distance.

“Hagrid! Look!” Emma said, tugging on the big man’s sleeve.

Hagrid went all still. “You two stay here. I'll come back for yeh." And he crashed off into the underbrush, his crossbow up at his shoulder.

"Do you think they've been hurt?" Emma whispered.

Killian shook his head before realizing she was looking at everything but him. He didn't blame her, without Hagrid the darkness pressed in around them and his only thought was of the unnamed something out there taking down unicorns.

"I hope not," he said.

"Me too." She paused. "Well, Regina I couldn't care less about, but Mary Margaret's only in this because she was trying to warn us."

"Yeah."

Something cracked nearby, making them both jump. Emma's cold fingers curled around Killian's. At school, he might had shaken her off, but here he held on tight and tried to breathe around the fear.

A thunderous crashing came their way. Several somethings tromping through the woods. His eyes shot to Emma, who looked back with wide, wide eyes. She took a breath as they faced whatever was coming at them. Together they raised their wands.

It was Hagrid and the others.

Emma let out a long sigh. Killian chuckled under his breath.

They both realized they were holding hands at the same time and let go.

"Mary Margaret, you'll stay with Killian an' me fer now," Hagrid said moodily. "Emma you go with Fang an' this idiot." He jerked his head at Regina. "Apparently, she thought it'd be a great joke to sneak up behind Mary Margaret and scare the life outta her. Be lucky if we find anything now."

Hagrid was far less talkative this time around, muttering under his breath as Killian and Mary Margaret followed. She trudged along, her head hanging, arms wrapped around her ribs. He thought he should say something. It wasn't her fault her cousin was an ass, after all.

Before he could, though, someone screamed.

Hagrid whipped around, crossbow jerking up in the direction of the ruckus.

"Stay here," he barked and took off.

Killian ignored him, wand held at the ready as he tried to keep up. After a moment, he heard Mary Margaret puffing right along next to him.

The other two girls had covered quite a bit of distance in the hour or so since everyone changed partners, so they were too far ahead for Killian to tell if Emma or Regina was screaming. Every now and then the screams would be punctuated by the bay of the boarhound.

At last they met a babbling Regina.

“Oh shut up fer a minute and tell us what’s the matter,” snapped Hagrid.

Regina hiccupped, her voice shaking. “A big, black thing…I—I don’t know what it is. But it had the unicorn—it’s dead, Hagrid, the thing was drinking its blood.”

“And where’s Emma?”

Regina glanced behind, as though realizing for the first time that Emma wasn’t with her.

Hagrid lifted his crossbow. “Now, yer gonna show me—”

“No, no, please,” Regina sobbed. “Please don’t make me go back there.”

“There’s another child back there that might need help,” Hagrid said. “Now, buck up and do yer house proud.” He let go of the crossbow long enough to push her forward.

Whimpering, Regina led them back down the path. The lantern rattled so badly in her hand that Killian took it from her, glad to have something to do. A clammy sweat clung to his skin, his heart pounding in his ears. He hoped Emma was alright. He needed Emma to be alright. She was his friend. He couldn't imagine sitting through Professor Doc’s lectures without her doodling in her notebook. Or sitting at the table in the Great Hall with only Mary Margaret and David. He had never known someone who died before. Well, his father was dead, but that didn't really count, Killian was only a baby when that happened. He didn't remember it.

The sound of hooves echoed ahead of them, two voices mingling softly among the trees.

"Do you mean," whispered a hoarse voice that Killian recognized instantly, "that was Rum—"

"Emma!" Killian called out, ignoring Hagrid's warning as he took off down the path. "You’re alright!"

He pulled up short as the light hit an expanse of palomino coat and then a torso and finally an unfamiliar face.

"I'm fine," Emma said, her head popping out from behind the lean, muscled chest. "Thanks, Firenze." She slipped down and held her hand out to the young centaur.

The centaur blinked at her hand, tilting his head this way and that. "This where I leave you, Emma Swan. Remember what I've said."

"I will." She waved as Firenze cantered off. When she turned back to them, her face was grim. "The unicorn's in that clearing back there, Hagrid, if you want to go look. It's dead."

By the time they got back to the common room, Killian thought he might be sleep-walking. He almost stumbled right by David, who slept curled up in one of the armchairs. Emma didn't miss him, though.

"Foul! Foul! No blagging," David muttered when she shook him roughly awake.

"I know why Snape wants the stone," she hissed.

Killian froze.

Mary Margaret groaned. "Emma can we please just go to bed?"

"He's trying to get it for Rumplestiltskin," Emma went on. "He's waiting in the forest. Rumplestiltskin is what's killing the unicorns..."

"Stop saying that name," David snapped.

"Please," Killian added.

But Emma hardly seemed to hear them. She rambled on, sparing no details as she told them of her encounter with the creature—who she insisted was Rumplestiltskin to everyone's growing dismay—and the centaurs.

“Firenze saved me, obviously, though he shouldn’t have. Bane was furious…something about interfering with the planets—I guess they show that Rumplestiltskin’s coming back and Bane thinks Firenze should have just let Rumplestiltskin…”

“Stop saying that name!” David’s face had gone white as a ghost’s, but Emma just plunged on.

"Of course, it won’t matter once Snape steals the stone, Rumplestiltskin will be able to come and finish me off and—"

"Emma," Mary Margaret cut in and finally snapped Emma out of it. "Everyone knows that You-Know-Who is afraid of Dumbledore. He won't come near the castle as long as Dumbledore is here. Even if the centaurs are right, he can't hurt you."

“You didn’t hear what they were saying, Mary Margaret.”

The talked round and round in circles. None of their assurances placated Emma, and Killian's ears felt ready to burn with how many times she mentioned You-Know-Who's name. As the sky began to lighten, Emma gave a great yawn and announced that she was going to bed. Mary Margaret murmured comforting words as they tromped up the stairs.

Killian followed after David, wondering what it must be like to only have final exams to worry about. Surely none of his other housemates had to worry their best friend might not make it to the end of the term.

#captain swan #csbb #cs crew #cs ff

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onwardsmynoblesteve · 7 years

Text

Bark vs Bite

The stray dog au that literally no one but me asked for

When a very lost St Bernard named Doc comes across two squabbling stray dog packs, shenanigans ensue. As well as other, less whimsical-sounding things...

ok so dog breeds and stuff

Reds

One of the stray dog packs, that live in an old abandoned jeep

Sarge: American bulldog. Confident and lively, it seemed to suit him. The leader of the pack. No one knows how he ended up a stray, the story he gives is completely different each time. Not that anyone would notice, as it goes on so long that nobody dares to listen to all of it.

Simmons: Dobermann. Can’t entirely remember why I made him a dobie, it just seemed to work. Is missing his left foreleg, which has been replaced by a scrap prosthetic. Was abandoned as a pup, and latched onto Sarge immediately.

Grif: Chow Chow mix. Do not ask me what he is mixed with, because tbh I don’t know, it’s just that whenever I drew him he never seemed full Chow. Anyway, chose Chow because they’re less active than other dogs, have ‘cat-like’ personalities (AKA seem like a lazy asshole at first) and have a predisposition to put on weight easily. Was born to a pure bred champion chow and fathered by some rando vagabond who got in through a hole in the fence. As his litter wasn’t pedigree, Grif and his siblings were chucked out by their mother’s haughty breeder owner. Grif’s the best of the reds at getting food, because what can I say, people love fluffy dogs.

Donut: Poodle. It felt mandatory. I haven’t come up with anything else for him so yea

Lopez: A random raccoon that sticks around with the reds for easy meals and shelter. Decided to make him a raccoon because that was the only way I could come up with so none of the dogs would understand him. Made Simmons’ shoddy scrap leg using his tiny raccoon hands.

Blues

They live in an old abandoned train caboose on some defunct railway tracks, not too far from the reds

Church: Norwegian Black Elkhound/Husky/???. Tucker swears the last part’s cat, it accounts for Church’s asshole personality. The others all feel like something about him is off. I mean, what’s the deal with his paws? Ah, if only they knew. Actually, it’s probably better if they don’t.

Caboose: Labrador/Springer Spaniel/Staffy mix. The most affectionate, attention-seeking, obnoxiously sprightly dog I could think of. Had been living in the caboose for a good time before the others came along, hence his name. Really, really hates fleas.

Tucker: Some sort of terrier mix. ...Um yeah that’s about all I got here.

Sheila: Newfoundland dog. There is literally nothing else I could will her to be except a Newfie.

Freckles: Anatolian Shepherd. Big ol’ guard dog; the actual breed can scare off even big predators such as cheetahs. Anatolians have that typical personality you think of when you think guard dog. Freckles has put all that guarding instinct into protecting Caboose. Instead of the full black muzzle that most Anatolians have, Freckles has scattered dark spots that give him his name.

Freelancers

A group of mysterious dogs that pop up from time to time. They’re too well groomed and healthy looking to be strays, so why are they out in the sticks? It’s almost like they’re trying to get away from something...

Can’t put a lot of detail here because spoilers

Tex: Rhodesian ridgeback. These things were bred to fight off lions and I’ve seen one chase after a full-grown stag; how could they not be suitable for Tex? Seems to know Church, but the specifics are...fuzzy, to say the least.

Carolina: Carolina dog, because what else could I make her when the breed has a name like that?

York: Australian shepherd. They’re an intelligent, playful and loving breed, so I thought it suited him.

North and South: Borzoi mixes. They both superficially resemble borzoi, however it seems only North has inherited their typical temperament. Instead, South has more exaggerated ‘sighthound’ (the group borzoi are part of) instincts, and so has a very high prey drive. North has this as well, he just has a slightly better hold on it and it’s mostly hidden by his calm demeanour.

Wyoming: English setter. I had two criteria for choosing Wyoming’s breed: 1. it must be obnoxiously english, and 2. it must have markings that are able to form some kind of mustache equivalent. English setters fulfill both of these, and their temperament is often described as gentlemanly, but mischievous. So yeah, perfect dog for ol’ Reginald.

CT: Australian cattle dog. They’re intelligent dogs with a strong independent streak, so it fitted well.

Florida: Bedlington terrier. Described by wikipedia as “both good with children and ‘fit to kill any other dog of his weight’”. Yay!

There’s also ideas for other characters but I have no clue how they fit into the story yet so yeah

#bark vs bite au #rvb

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ulvar-dominic-skar-blog · 8 years

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BIOGRAPHY (tw: violence, tw: parental death, tw: alcoholism, tw: knives, tw: insanity, tw: blood.)

Characters name: Ulvar Dominic Skar House: Slytherin Age: 16

Three positive and negative traits: Loyal, brave, passionate Ruthless, wicked, cruel

Three headcanons:

Ulvar, despite being a pureblood wizard, have never been any great talent with magic. He’s never focused enough to manage simple tasks given to him at school. He has actually been shown to be better with curses and general dark art, but truly, magic is not really his top strength.Ulvar, however, never let that become an disability for him.. He’s grown to be rather good at potions but his real talent is one of a muggle kind. Knives and swords and axes and anything sharp. With a great aim and a good technique, one would never want to be near an angry Ulvar. His mother often needed to plead with Durmstrang’s headmaster to let her son continue his education and his dorm was regularly raided by professors for weapons and the truth was that they had never left the dorm without a new item to Ulvar’s records. A year ago, he eventually was expelled from Durmstrang, which did not really surprise anyone.

The boy carries a secret even he won’t let anyone in on. Prior his transfer to Hogwarts, he was hospitalized at St Mungo’s after he caused an explosion, by a mistake, while experimenting with potions (which also was the reason he was expelled from Durmstrang). Luckily, no one else but him got hurt in the explosion. He, himself, was badly damaged. While checked into St Mungo’s, the hospital also showed concern for the boy’s mental health. It was clear that Ulvar had a different understanding of morals than the standard one, they weren’t too keen on letting him out of there, as they didn’t trust him.

Upon hearing about Cecilie Skar’s, Ulvar’s mom, death, Dumbledore granted her wish upon letting Ulvar finish his education on Hogwarts. Cecilie had tried to get him enrolled there since he was expelled, as she herself, had been an Hufflepuff at Hogwarts. This, and also, her growing fear for her son’s attraction to everything she deemed horrible, made her feel Hogwarts was a much safer than just staying home with her. She knew he’d be a easy prey for someone like Voldemort.

Ulvar wants to join the ranks of the dark lord. It’s the power rather than blood statue that draws him to it. Power attracts Ulvar and it’s an addiction of his. His addiction to power combined with a moral beyond twisted, Ulvar could easily be seduced by the dark side of life.

He is a passionate man, and despite being cruel and downright twisted most of the time, there is a twisted sort of humanity in him. He can be loyal as a puppy, and he can love like a wild child. His mother was however one of those few to receive his weird love and compassion. He would often surprise his mother with flowers or take her out to eat and it was never done to manipulate or twist his way around, all of it had been honest and kindhearted.

Ulvar have never played quidditch himself, but his favorite team is the Norwegian Karasjok Kites team and he’ll fight you to death to defend his team.

His favorite tale is the Tale of the Three Brothers by Beedle the Bard, and he even keeps an old copy of it.

Ships/anti ships: Nothing i can think of to be honest, i mean, ulvar is an oc so there is no canon ship, so really, it’s more exciting to wait and see. He could use some love and i’d love to see someone corrupt him even more.

Alliance: with the dark lord

Biography: Ulvar Dominic Skar. A ruthless child with a fierce temper. Ulvar was never an easy child but he was the diamond in his mother’s life. Born and raised in the cold of northern Norway, Ulvar was an only child to a single mom. Even though they were far from rich, the two were happy and his mother treasured him like nothing else. Despite all the pain Ulvar’s mischief caused her, she loved him all the same. Ulvar loved him mom just the same, and even if he seemed unable to care for anyone, he cared deeply for her and was always quick to defend her, often a bit too much, and a bit to fiercely. Ulvar tended to react with violence.

Originally a Durmstrang student, Ulvar was transfered to Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year, starting his 6th year of school. He was expelled from Durmstrang, and his mother did a lot of pleading to allow him into Hogwarts. His mother though, she never got to hear the good news that he had been accepted to the school. Before the summer, she fell ill and she didn’t survive, leaving Ulvar by himself. His own father had passed away when he was just a child in an accident in the mountains.

There was no surprise that the young man was sorted to Slytherin. The boy had always had a downright cruel side to him, and add that to a reckless behavior, sly and a fierce temper, you had yourself a stereotype slytherin. And now with his mother gone, whom was the only person to keep him grounded and nurturing the good in him, Ulvar’s mind was turning darker and darker by each day. His mother’s death hit him hard and it was easier to push it to the back of his mind rather than face the reality.

Association: Ill tempered, excitement, nicotine addict, cruel, joker, passionate, loyal till death, alcoholic, lunatic, wicked grin, snow, blood & bruises, death, silver and black, wild, reckless, daring, brave, cold, loud, laughter, storm, attention whore, smoke, mountains

Bonus info!

Patronus

: Ulvar have never attempted at the spell, but chances are that he wouldn’t be able to succeed with the spell either.

Boggart:

Norwegian ridgeback. As a young child, Ulvar spent one afternoon playing in the mountains. Not wise enough to stay away from the caves his mother warned him about. It didn’t take the child long before he stepped inside a dragon’s cave, and it was only due to pure old fashion luck that Ulvar wasn’t killed that day. Luckily for the child, the dragon was old and sleeping and never noticed the young boy. Never in his life, before or after, had he ever ran as fast as he did that day, running down that mountain side.

Wand:

12, Dogwood,

Veela hair

Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous; they have playful natures and insist upon partners who can provide them with scope for excitement and fun.

An interesting foible of many dogwood wands is that they refuse to perform non-verbal spells and they are often rather noisy.

Since Britain's chief wandmaker, Garrick Ollivander, finds that Veela hair cores make for "temperamental" wands, it is likely that there are few Veela hair wands made in Britain.

What did they bring in their trunk to Hogwarts? (favorite possessions): Ulvar brought just about everything that’s not allowed. Knives, a shitload of them, material to make potions which the school probably wouldn’t allow. He also of course bought a fair share of bottles with firewhiskey. Hidden in the bottom of his trunk, there’s a photo album of from his mom.

Did they bring a furry friend? Ulvar doesn’t have any animals.

Character playlist: Black Rider- Tom Waits Just The Right Bullet- Tom Waits The Wanderer- Dion Beast and the Harlot -Avenged Sevenfold Hail To The King- Avenged Sevenfold Jekyll and Hyde- Five Finger Death Punch Make Me A Bird- Eletrik People

#biography #bio #tw: parental death #tw: alcoholism #tw: violence #tw: insanity #tw: knives

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daringdragons · 8 years

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[Pictured: Arys, Evie]

@toothlessrising @crazyfangarlady @serpens-fr @dragonhomeclan @viafr If anyone else wants to be pinged for future lore from me, let me know~!

Related stories: Roava Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, Kepi Comes To Stay, Sibling Bonding Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, The Knight and The Healer, general story tag~

(btw, if anyone wants descriptions on how these two look in their human forms, just ask~!)

The Knight and His Shadow, Part 1

Arys had always liked Edain, had considered her a friend; he admired her fierce devotion to the deity that they shared, the Lightweaver, and had never minded her occasional over-zealousness the way the others in the Clan Guard seemed to...he often wondered if he was her only true friend outside of her mate.

So, when Edain’s mate, Eucario, first brought around their child, scarcely more than a toddler, to visit her and the rest of the Guard, he offered the small girl a “Hello” and a small wave, despite his general aversion and confusion when it came to younglings.

The child, a Ridgeback like her father, had been taught early how to shift into the smaller, fleshy forms that most of the residents of Roava took, and so she stood much smaller than Arys than she might've in their dragon forms. Craning her neck to look up, up, up at the Wildclaw, her bright yellow eyes widened at the sight of him in his golden plate armor.

“Hi,” She responded, barely more than a whisper, her hand raising in an attempt at a wave. The two stared at each other for a long moment, Arys not entirely unused to small children being awed by his appearance, before Eucario broke the silence with an “awww” at his daughter’s greeting; Arys would notice in the coming weeks that the Ridgeback tended to “aw” at most everything his daughter did, the already normally enthusiastic dragon now almost unbearably so in fatherhood.

When her father led her away a short while later, encouraging her to wave goodbye to her mother, the child only had eyes for Arys.

This would prove to be a bit of a problem.

The day had been long, and would be longer still, and Arys wanted nothing more than to spend a few moments with his mate. They had agreed earlier in the day to meet on the beach, so after finding someone to take over his guard duty for a short while, the Wildclaw made his way down there.

As he approached the shore, he could clearly make out Ravi, standing with his back to the ocean, waiting. Coming closer, he could clearly see the amused look on his mate's face.

“What's so funny?”

Ravi's grin only widened, pointing his finger over Arys’ shoulder.

“You seem to have a follower.”

The Wildclaw instantly knew what his mate meant, though he didn't quite believe, until he quickly turned around to find wide yellow eyes staring up at him.

This was not the first time this had happened. In the weeks since the child, Evie, as her parents had named her, had first met Arys, he had found her following more times than he could count. She had grown a bit taller, but she was quiet as ever, and this included her footsteps - Arys liked to think that he was alert, with a keen sense of hearing, but very rarely had he actually heard the small Ridgeback following him.

Much to Arys’ confusion, Edain and Eucario merely found their daughter's stalking of him cute. The first few times they had, of course, been quite worried about wherever their child had slipped away to, but once they realized that Evie was only ever with Arys, who they knew she would be safe with, their worry turned into amusement.

Thus, situations like this had become a regular occurrence.

Arys sighed, begrudgingly reaching out his hand for Evie to take. “Let's get you back to your father, you really-” Some sort of scolding died on his lips, it would do no good to dissuade her anyhow, and the pout she normally gave the few times he had asked her not to follow him was positively unfair.

Ravi raised his closed fist to his mouth, stifling an “Aw~” at the sight of the child taking his mate's hand - he found Arys’ little “problem” absolutely adorable.

“Not a word,” Arys warned when he glanced at his mate, wagging a finger at him for effect.

Ravi only laughed, “Of course not, dear. Hurry back now, at this rate I'll barely have any time to kiss that pretty face of yours before you have to get back to work.”

The Wildclaw promptly scooped up Evie in his arms, much to Ravi's amusement and the child's delight, practically dashing back to the castle.

“Teachmehowtobelikeyouplease.”

Arys had been standing at his usual post - just outside of the king's throneroom, directly to the left of the double doors -, when the small voice broke the silence in the hall.

Looking down and to his left, he was met with his former shadow. As Evie had grown, while she still plainly stared at Arys when they were in the same room, she had stopped following him, seemingly embarrassed by her younger self’s starry eyed stalking. Now, gangly and fully in the throes of adolescence, she was shy as ever, her eyes averting to somewhere else down the hall when Arys turned to look at her.

“...What?” He questioned, unsure if he had correctly heard her, and even if he had, he was a little confused.

“I...I want you to train me to be a...a knight.”

He simply stared at her for a few long moments, blinking, in surprise or something else he wasn't sure, and the prolonged silence was enough to trigger the young Ridgeback into saying more.

“Ev-ever since I could remember, I was...I wanted to be just like you. With your...gallantry and your...your calmness, an-and your devotion towards the king, and everything else,” She finished her stammer, her cheeks reddening as she went on.

Another long beat of silence and she began to backtrack.

“Nev-nevermind, this was stupid, I shouldn't of-” There were tears in her eyes, as quickly as that, and Arys was finally jostled out of his surprised silence.

“No! I mean...that's not stupid. I've never...trained anybody before, but I would be honored, Evie.” He swallowed, offering the barest of smiles, and a much larger grin broke out on the younger dragon's face before she reigned it in a bit.

“Really?” She breathed out, nearly seeming to be vibrating with excitement, an odd sight on the normally quiet, reserved dragon. “I didn't...thank you so much...when can we start?”

“Let's say 6AM, tomorrow morning,” He responded, and the smile faded even more from her face as she stopped herself from protesting, instead offering a nod much too serious for someone her age.

“That's adorable,” Ravi gushed, Arys having just finished telling him about his latest encounter with Evie.

“I don't know the first thing about training anyone, Ravi,” Arys nearly whined, if the Wildclaw was in fact capable of whining. They were relaxing in Ravi's room, Arys reclined on the bed, most of his armor neatly placed on the floor due to lack of anywhere else to put it; a large wooden table took up one wall of the small room, but it was absolutely covered with books on magic and healing, pieces of parchment with spells and recipes messily scrawled on them, and entirely too many healing supplies to properly fit on the table.

This was where Ravi sat, finishing writing something on a piece of parchment, a bottle of something glowing an odd shade of yellow next to him. The fading sun shone through a window facing the table, and Arys’ train of thought halted for a moment as he simply had to stop and stare at his mate, nearly glowing in the light.

“You’ll do fine,” Ravi assured, rolling up the piece of parchment and tucking it into a cubby hole on the table, turning in his chair to give the Wildclaw a soft smile. “You learned just fine...you learned exceptionally well, in fact, that much is made clear by what an excellent knight you are...just take all of that and give it to her, as best you can.”

The Skydancer stood, crossing the room to his bed in two steps, practically collapsing on the mattress next to his smaller mate, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with his hand.

“You thrive on structure, Arys, stop trying to pretend like you haven’t already begun to plan her first lesson in excruciating detail,” He grinned, and if the way Arys pursed his lips and averted his eyes were any indication, he was spot on.

“Stop being grumpy for the sake of being grumpy,” Ravi teased as he leaned forward, kissing his blushing mate on the nose, before rolling on top of the Wildclaw and proceeding to cover the other dragon’s face with kisses until a smile broke out on Arys’ face, letting out a teasing sigh.

“Alright, alright, come here,” He simply murmured, wrapping his arms around Ravi as he pulled him in for a proper kiss, putting thoughts of do I start her with a blunted sword or a real one and should I get the blacksmith to make her some armor or is it too early on the backburner for the time being.

that’s gay

stay tuned for the next part where I proceed to cry along with Ravi over how adorable Arys and Evie are!

#flight rising #flightrising #fr clan lore #flight rising stories #flight rising clan lore #clan story #clan roava #arys #evie #ravi #edain #eucario #idk if those last two necessarily deserve a tag but whatevs #dad!eucario gives me life this is the role he's been waiting his whole life to fill #he is the Best Dad #i wasn't going to split this into parts originally but this right here is approximately 1.5k words #so i figured i probably should lol #we'll see how long the next part actually ends up being tho exactly 0% of it has been written #i hate naming stories so much this one has a silly name but whatever

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