#i like to imagine their 'initiation' into the tribe involved them stealing something & getting it past the junkyard patrol

[jellicle-chants]

It is so so so important to me that Jerrie and Teazer are allowed and even encouraged to steal once they (re)join the Jellicles -- not from other tribe members, of course, but they're never told off for sneaking things from their human home, and their friends are always happy for the random trinkets that show up around their dens (which the twins have taken to calling "surprise gifting"). Some of the other cats who've also escaped Macavity will even ask them to go snoop on his hideout once in a while, to check in on cats that got left behind.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

*kicking at your door, smashing it* DING DONG

Hello! 🥰🌸

from "Questions You Should Be Able To Answer For Any OTP" 1,3,4,5,9 and 10 for moanida!😅💜 But you can answer all of them or only few of them is it's too much ahaha

Ily, take care!!

YEAH BOIIII

Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

I'm just imagining Moana being a barista at some hole-in-the-wall authentic Polynesian coffee place by the beach, and of course Merida because she damn well needs her caffeine in the morning or she'll pass out, and Rapunzel insists on starting these fucking Squad Beach Days early. Merida was honestly willing to take the first cup of coffee she could get when the gang first went into town, but uhhhhhh oh GOD that girl behind the counter is cute!!! Merida starts "ending up" in there quite a lot, although initially she can barely string a coherent sentence together in front of that cute barista and can't make eye contact for more than half a second. Extroverted as she can be, Merida dissolves into an absolute mess as soon as a pretty girl is involved XD

Merida also pretends to only like black coffee to make herself seem tough, but in reality she kind of hates it and prefers sugar-laden lattes and sweet teas. After a while, when she and Mo have established kind of a friendship, and Merida can have an conversation with Mo without imploding and making an idiot of herself, Mo notices Mer making a face every time she sips her Plain Black Coffee and kinda smirks and is like “You know, there’s no shame in adding sweeteners. I mean, for god’s sake, my favorite drink here is the blonde vanilla coconut latte, and I’m still pretty tough.” Merida is just like “OH THANK GOD” and finally admits that she’d much rather be ordering an Irish crème, toffee, buttered rum, cinnamon, or caramel latte. If the seasonal flavor selection offers any apple-accented or apple pie-esque lattes, Merida’s all about that shit, too! Probably the most “intense” drink Merida actually enjoys is a pretty spicy cinnamon latte. She ends up ordering this pretty frequently to impress Moana with her spice tolerance, even though she really doesn’t need to.

Also, in case there’s any question about it--yes, Moana absolutely memorizes Merida’s orders! Moana also memorizes what flavor syrups Merida seems to like best (i.e. spicy cinnamon, apple pie, caramel, toffee, butterscotch) and gives them extra shots of them in her drinks. When the manager complains about all of Merida’s favorite flavor syrups running out frequently, Moana is like “Oh nooooo, I have no idea why THAT could be! That’s terrible!”

Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

I love the idea of them having a super-petty sports rivalry in a modern AU! Merida strikes me as being competitive as hell, so I’m betting anything she’d be the one to take it way too seriously and get increasingly annoyed with Moana outdoing her, while Mo kind of gives in and indulges Mer but is also secretly amused and kind of flattered that Mer is like...that into their rivalry. Moana’s just like *Regina George voice* “Why are you so OBSESSED with me???”

Like maybe in a modern-day college AU, Merida has been the star of her college’s archery team basically since freshman year. She wins the championships!!! She gets the trophies!!! She’s very well-known within the tiny niche community that is college archery!!! Then, come junior year, this girl in Merida’s year who Merida’s never even SEEN before shows up out of nowhere and makes the cut for the team. She’s honestly way better than she has any right to be (like judging by how she is with that harpoon gun, Moana’s aim is pretty damn good) and is constantly stealing the spotlight, and Merida is a very angry lass. Like it seems like no matter what she does, Moana can always one-up her, and Merida wants to tear her hair out in frustration. Doesn’t help that every time Moana does ridiculously good on a drill and gets 7 bullseyes in a row or some shit, she’s insufferably smug and cocky about it. Merida very-nearly throws a fit every time Mo outdoes her, and Moana honestly finds the whole thing pretty amusing. She’s sort of flattered that apparently only she can get such dramatic reactions out of Mer, and that just tempts her to push Mer’s buttons all the more.

Then, come the annual Big Archery Tournament Finals! As usual, Merida’s college’s team wins--although this time, it’s through a combination of Merida’s and Moana’s skills rather than just Merida kicking archery ass for like 2 hours straight. On the individual evaluations, Moana scores higher than Merida, but only by a little bit. Merida is, of course, extremely salty, but she’s also grudgingly grateful that Moana being there was able to give their team a definitive edge in the competition.

Afterwards, the team goes out for celebratory drinks. After probably 3 drinks too many, Moana finally works up the courage to try and actually like...have a straight conversation with Merida for once, instead of just communicating with passive-aggressive show-offery. She wanders over, sits next to Mer at the bar, and half-slurredly asks if she can declare a truce just for one night, in honor of their kind-of-teamwork winning the tournament. Merida is also a few drinks in, so she’s just like “sure, fuck it, maybe yer not so bad after all. Now prove to me you’re not a pain in the arse!”

They chat for a while, and it turns out Moana is actually pretty easygoing and fun to talk to when she’s not mega-flexing with her archery skills. After a few more drinks, Moana is like “...can I tell you something?” and Merida’s like “why not?”

And then Moana just goes bright red and looks away and admits that the whole reason she got into archery and boosted up her skills enough to join the team in the first place was because she saw Merida making like 50 bullseyes at the previous year’s tournament, and developed a huge crush on her--to the point where she did all this extra-ass shit just so she could join the archery team and get to know Merida better. Also, every instance of Moana acting smug and cocky after acing a drill or perfectly hitting a target? It was honestly because she was trying to impress and show off to Merida, and also because she’s awkward as hell and has no idea how to actually flirt without being joke-mean and joke-cocky. Merida, a much more emotional drunk than she will ever admit, starts crying and gets super apologetic, because oh god, she was being so mean and rude to this girl who only ever thought she was cool and wanted to impress her from the jump??? How COULD she??? Moana lowkey loses her shit laughing because how mad Merida got at being upstaged was honestly kind of hilarious, and she was actually really flattered that Merida was, again, that obsessed with their rivalry. It made Moana feel weirdly special that only she could get to Merida that much, and she honestly liked the attention, even if it...wasn’t the most positive XD And Merida starts laughing, too, because she’ll admit that in hindsight, this whole thing feels a little ridiculous, and extracurricular college archery really isn’t that big of a deal.

Finally, Merida just rolls her eyes and says “C’mere, yeh bloody show-off yeh” and grabs Moana by the front of her archery uniform and smooches her!!! The entire archery team hoots and hollers because OH SHIT, DAT GAY!!! Merida holds out her other hand and flips the entire team off, which honestly just makes them cheer more.

Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Depends a lot on the conflict, I think! Maybe a war breaks out in an AU where someone other than Moana is chosen to return the Heart of Te Fiti--I’m gonna say Tui, for irony’s sake! Moana and Sina take over as co-chiefs while he’s gone, but he takes significantly longer than Moana did in the quest, so Moana’s tribe is eventually forced to flee Motunui to find new fishing grounds before their island is overtaken by darkness. The people of Motunui sail across the world, trying to find a new place to call home. Unfortunately, every time they find a habitable place, it’s already occupied, and the people who live there are uninterested in sharing their already-scarce food.

Eventually they stumble upon Dunbroch, far enough away from Motunui that the seas aren’t affected by the spreading darkness, and fish are plentiful. Naturally, Moana’s tribe sets up a camp on the shores and starts catching as many fish as they can, hoping they’ve finally found a place where they can have enough to eat again. Unfortunately Fergus and Elinor aren’t too crazy about this, and are like “yo, these oceans and these fish and other game belong to the people of Dunbroch and you gotta leave” and Sina and Moana are like “Pls we don’t have any place to go and we’ve been barely eating for a long-ass time, can’t you spare some food?” and Fergus and Elinor are like “sorry bro, it’s almost winter and we have our own entire kingdom to look after, we don’t need more mouths to feed. You gotta be on your way or shit’s gonna get real.”

So Moana thinks this sounds sketch as fuck because like...there’s an entire forest full of deer, rabbits, and other game, and they have NO food they can spare??? That night, Sina sends Moana to spy on the kingdom, since she can be pretty sneaky when she wants. Moana manages to climb the castle battlements and watch through a window, and she sees a bunch of people enjoying a massive feast in a huge dining hall. Her eyes are particularly drawn to a girl about her age with a head full of bright, fiery curls, wearing a nice dark green dress and gorging herself on pastries adorned with white icing and raspberries.

Moana heads back and tells Sina “actually it looks like these assholes have PLENTY of food to spare, and they just want to keep it all for themselves” and Sina is like “well shit...why don’t we raid their food store, then??? They’ve gotta have one somewhere!” And so the Motunui village storms Castle Dunbroch at dawn, catching them almost completely by surprise.

The first thing Moana does is seek out the redheaded pastry girl, whom she’s developed a particular disdain for. When she rushes her, she’s surprised that the ginger girl whips around and immediately sends an arrow sailing into her shoulder. When Moana gets close, the redheaded girl pulls out a sword. Moana takes out a long, sharpened wooden spear made from a particularly tough oar.

She turns out to be much more competent than Moana expected, especially for someone who was shamelessly shoving sweets into her mouth not 7 hours earlier.

They go toe to toe Raya-and-Namaari style, and the redheaded girl admittedly gives Moana a run for her money. The longer the battle goes on, the more Moana’s rage grows. She taunts the redheaded girl the entire time, calling her a spoiled, selfish brat who’d rather gorge herself with all the sugar in the world than share even one grain of it. Merida, who hasn’t exactly heard good things about these people from her parents, is just like “well, you’re no better, showing up and thinking you can just steal what belongs to Dunbroch and we won’t put up a fight!”

And thus the war begins. Motunui is never quite strong enough to get through the guards and raid the food stores, and Dunbroch is never quite strong enough to fully drive Motunui out of the kingdom. Fergus and Moana are both far too stubborn to surrender (despite the fact that Sina is kind of ready to), and so the battles continue. Casualties start to pile up. Dunbroch seeks help from the other clans, but they refuse--they did not take their leaders’ sons being scorned by the Dunbroch princess lightly.

Over and over, Moana can’t help but be drawn to the redheaded girl. She realizes after a few battles that this girl isn’t just anymore, but the Dunbroch princess--her resemblance to the king and his protectiveness over her can’t be a coincidence. It only makes Moana hate her more--but time and time again, she isn’t able to get the better of the princess. Moana can fight hard, and she can be vicious--but so, she’s discovering, can the Dunbroch girl. The princess is clever and cunning, and underestimating her has almost gotten Moana a blade in the throat one too many times.

Merida would be the one to change sides eventually, I think (wooo! Finally got to the actual question!). Once she finds out her parents didn’t tell her the whole truth about their first meeting with the Motunui village and sorta fudged what happened, Merida is livid that they turned away people who needed help. She said if she had known there were people who were tired and hungry and just needed a place to rest, she would have gladly given up some of her own meals for them! To prove this, she gathers up her dinner--plus some apples and some pastries she was going to have for dessert--and puts it in a basket, taking it to the Motunui camp as a peace offering. Moana ambushes her and very nearly slices the basket in half, if only because Moana was convinced it was filled with venemous snakes. After some bickering, Moana finally snatches the food away and, after testing it to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, brings it to Sina.

Unfortunately, one basket of food isn’t enough to feed the village, and the fighting continues. Merida tries to convince her parents to share their food stores with Motunui, but they still refuse, saying they need those stores for their own people and the Motunui people killed any chance of goodwill they might get when they attacked. Determined not to see people starve, Merida starts stealing from the reserve herself and sneaking the food out to the Motunui camp. Moana is feeling a lot more kindly towards Merida at this point, and feels a little bad about being so quick to judge her initially.

Eventually, Fergus and Elinor notice the food in the stores going missing, and figure some of the Motunui villagers must be running stealth operations to sneak in and get it. Dunbroch launches a full-scale attack on Montunui--while Merida is at their camp sneaking them food, in fact. Fergus makes a beeline for Moana. Word has gotten out by now of the times she managed to spy on the castle, so her sneakiness is well-known--and Fergus is all but certain she’s the thief. He charges at her with his sword, aimed to kill, when his own daughter steps in the way.

He barely manages to stop himself, but he does just in time. Merida admits she was stealing the food the whole time, and she can’t let Fergus hurt Moana. Fergus demands to know why, and Merida tearfully admits “Because I love her!”

Fergus, in a rage, takes out his sword again and charges Merida. Swords clash between father and daughter, and Merida looks like she’s just about to be overpowered. Moana can see the fear and betrayal in her eyes, appalled that her father would actually contemplate hurting her.

Not wanting to see whether he actually would, Moana steps in and helps Merida to fend Fergus off. “Enough!” she screams. “How can you live with yourself? My father risked his life to try to save his daughter and his people--and you’re willing to fight yours because she doesn’t agree with all this senseless violence?! You make me sick! I’m standing with Merida, because...because I love her too. I’ll leave if you want, but I want this to end.”

This finally snaps Fergus out of it, and he and Elinor decide that maybe the fighting has gone on long enough--and maybe it’s not worth it anymore, if it’s pitting them against their own daughter now. They end up trying to work out something with Motunui. Establishing a peace treaty and figuring out how to proceed forward is a long and messy process, but everyone is willing to put in the work--for the sake of Merida and Moana, if for nothing else.

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Neither of them want to meet their soulmate XD Merida has just been repulsed by the idea of marriage and commitment since she was young, mainly because she can’t not see it as just a means of taking her freedom away and making her be subservient to someone. Besides, given the, um...heteronormative culture of Dunbroch and all, she assumes she’ll get not just stuck with, but cosmically bound to a man and that idea just...doesn’t do anything but fill her with unadulterated disgust XD Like please no, she’s perfectly happy to go where she pleases when she pleases with no one but Angus for company. The last thing she needs is some stuck-up, snot-nosed boy telling her what she can and can’t do.

Moana has similar concerns, although maybe a bit less extreme. She’s mainly worried that when she meets her soulmate and, as per expectation, marries them, she’ll be expected to “mature” into a full adult and fully embrace her responsibilities as chief, leaving behind her childhood dreams of exploring the ocean. Same as Merida, she’s worried the person she’s destined for will tie her down and prevent her from exploring and going on the adventures she craves so badly. She’s also, like Merida, worried she’ll get stuck with some lame, boring dude who she’ll be destined for because...he loves her!!! And will be really nice to her!!! But will not stimulate or interest her in any way whatsoever!!! And Moana is pretty uninterested in romance and dating regardless, so the idea of any kind of romantic partner who she’d hypothetically have to run crazy ideas by before just doing them doesn’t sound too appealing to her. Like, she’s happy where she is and having her friends and family for company, what does she need an SO for??? It just feels like the whole “soulmate” business is just the universe attempting to give her a babysitter, and Moana ain’t about that. She can do things on her own, dammit!!! And what makes the great elder love gods think she wants another person to keep track of on her escapades, anyways?!? It’s enough effort keeping herself safe without worrying about someone else!

Imagine their shocked delight when each finds out their soulmate is a) a girl and b) a girl arguably just as chaotic, adventurous, and rebellious as they are!!! They meet and they’re like “huh...maybe the universe wasn’t being some big dumb fucking idiot binding us together after all. I can work with this!!!”

Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Merida is the pirate! Or at least...the one who becomes a pirate first! XD Maybe to escape her betrothal she steals a ship and flees Dunbroch, and BOOM trouble on the High Seas time!!! Eventually she sails to the south Pacific on her naval escapades, and stumbles on Motunui. When she finds out Moana is a chief’s daughter, she naturally kidnaps her and holds her for ransom--because screw it, she hasn’t successfully pillaged any merchant ships recently and she needs some cash. But instead of being like “Noooo take me home!” Moana is like “Actually this fucks, I’ve always wanted to sail the ocean anyways and my dad wouldn’t let me before, so you’ve accidentally given me an avenue to achieve my dreams!!! Thank you!!!” And Merida realizes that a first mate would actually be a lot more useful in the long run than a handful of hostage money, so she just kind of shrugs like “aight, yer on the crew.”

Merida is a bit salty because Moana takes to the pirate lifestyle excellently--so much so that before long, she’s arguably a better pirate than Merida XD While Merida is a bit cranky about being outdone in the art of piracy, she also can’t help but admire Moana’s natural aptitude for sailing and propensity for mischief on the High Seas!!!

Their ship is called “The Arrow,” and Merida definitely uses her bow during pirate-to-pirate combat! She teaches Moana how to shoot a bow, but discovers Mo is pretty nifty with a harpoon gun as well!

Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Oooooh, this is a fun one!!! Admittedly I don’t usually think about these girls in a Childhood Friends to Lovers AU (very possibly due to...geographical constraints lol) so this’ll be a cool thought experiment!

SO in order to fix my unfortunate geographical constraints, I’m gonna say that this is an AU where the people of Motunui were wayfinders from the jump, and while voyaging (admittedly a LONG way), they stumbled upon Dunbroch. Moana’s parents and Merida’s parents immediately hit it off, and established a political alliance of sorts.

Moana, meanwhile, pulled the classic “little girl on vacation/at an event immediately seeks out other little girl and becomes best friends with her.” Moana and Merida naturally also hit it off immediately, and are both pretty bummed out when Tui and Sina want to leave and continue voyaging and such. However, they make plans to visit as frequently as they can and Merida and Moana are super hyped about this! They both always get extremely excited for said visits, and Little Moana nearly falls off the front of her family’s boat several times because she’s leaning over so far and squinting so hard to try and see Dunbroch.

I love the idea that Moana was the one who was totally smitten from the jump, to the point where it took her years to realize she was aspec because she was like “Of course I can fall in love!!! I’m in love with Merida!!!” She just didn’t realize most people have romantic inclinations toward more than one person over the course of their lives XD

It absolutely does not help that Merida is extremely romance-repulsed when they’re kids--mainly because she associates romance in general with being docile and acting stupid to impress some annoying macho guy, and that thought kinda makes her want to puke. That, and given how, er...heteronormative things are in Dunbroch, it doesn’t reall occur to her that romancing girls is like...an option. So poor Moana has always kind of resigned herself to thinking she has no chance with Merida, and keeps her feelings under pretty tight lock since she doesn’t want to ruin their close friendship and all and she doubts Merida even swings that way.

THEN when they’re in their early teens, Merida is like “hmmm...I wonder what it would be like to kiss Moana?” but then IMMEDIATELY feels weird for thinking that and tells absolutely no one. She’s definitely starting to feel something a little different than just platonic friendship though, and of course she’s also convinced Moana only sees her as a friend and probably doesn’t like girls.

Then one day they’re wrestling around out in the woods, like they have since they were little, and at one point Merida leans down and just impulsively kisses Moana. She’s super flustered and apologetic afterwards, but Moana just stares in shock before being like “holy shit, I never thought you’d actually want me too. Holy shit!!!!” After that, they start secret-dating and everyone around just thinks they’re still “very good friends” XD

When Merida turns 16 and gets the news of her betrothal, she’s devastated. It takes her several days to process her emotions, and several times she tries to protest to her mother, but Elinor steamrolls her and talks over her at every turn. Finally, when Merida can get a word in edgewise, she tearfully bursts out that she can’t go through with this because she loves Moana. Elinor, traditionally-minded woman that she is, is horrified by this.

When Fergus finds out, he GOES OFF at Elinor and sticks up for Merida. He basically says that she’s their daughter and they should want her to be happy, and they should be happy for her that she did find someone she loves, even if it’s a bit...unconventional.

Later, at the betrothal ceremony, Merida picks an archery contest for the suitors with the hopes of cheating the system and winning her own hand. Imagine her surprise when Moana rushes in late with a makeshift bow on her hip, shouting “I am Moana of Motunui, and I’ll be shooting for the princess’s hand as well!”

Luckily, due to Moana’s years and years of informal archery training from Merida herself, the other suitors really don’t stand a chance.

It turns out that Elinor and Fergus set this whole thing up, deciding in the end that their daughter should at least be able to marry who she loves if she had to get looped into a political marriage. And honestly, they weren’t going to say no to a stronger alliance with Motunui at the end of the day. Merida is so pleasantly shocked by the whole thing that she forgets to be mad about the fact that she’s still being pressured into a marriage pretty young XD Luckily, Moana has no intention of trying to hold Merida back or take her freedom away! Their relationship really barely changes after they officially become wives, and they’re still just as in love as they’ve basically always been.

As for the issue of heirs, Elinor and Fergus just make Merida’s brothers the heirs of Dunbroch, and Tui and Sina are fine with Moana and Merida choosing an heir for Motunui who isn’t necessarily their biological child. Neither Moana nor Merida are crazy about the “leaders have to be from the chief/monarch’s bloodline” rule anyways, so they’re more than fine with this!

This is in reference to this post! Still answering these questions for Moanida and Hiccanna, if I haven’t done so already!

@takaraphoenix come get your daily dose of Moanida!

[eternalstrigoii]

@slasherwife​​ requested hcs I don’t need a plot for, so, let’s cause some chaos:

Dating Borra Would Include:

Dark Fey!reader:

Practically every pairing in the Nest starts out like a small-town romance. You at least vaguely know one another, if not directly, than through no fewer than six other people.

I am not saying your entire family and all of your friends have Opinions, but I am also not saying that you have not been Conveniently Left Alone “On Accident” before.

Only a few generations ago, your kind roamed every part of the world; there were once innumerable tribes offset from the universals shared by your people as a whole (let alone the commonalities of more habitat-specific cultures).

When you get Involved, you both do your best to honor that; you approached his people to find out what you should do in order to reciprocate courtship, as he approached your elders to learn how he ought to initiate.

Sometimes courtship is an amalgam of his and yours, what he knows as well as what he should also be doing.

Flowers, or useful plants, sometimes even food-plants have a “habit” of popping up when you’re looking for them, though you didn’t call them from the earth yourself.

You may have made the jungle’s vines grow from their natural archway to encourage the passage of rain into the desert in thanks.

You are one of the only people who can get him to dance with you at gatherings. (It’s not exactly fair, considering how well plants respond to him, but you still do it.)

You get to see him for who he is, much of the time, though you, yourself, are not fazed by how he responds to the added stress of human encroachment on the moors. (They are the last true nature separating human kingdoms from the sea; if the humans overtake the moors, it will only be a matter of time until they reach your shores.)

There are times when courtship is an act of war, and it’s a strange feeling to acknowledge. Though you cannot fight every moment, it doesn’t sit well to think that you, living your lives, is a form of resistance (though it certainly is). Humans wish your kind extinct; to be happy together, to continue your people in the future - preserve your cultures as well as your lines - is the only way you can all endure long-term.

That does not mean there aren’t times when you are so afraid that you can hardly consider the pursuit of a shared future anything less than irresponsible.

He shares those feelings - perhaps you all do - but he is more hopeful than one would imagine a man prepared to defend his people to the death might be. You often sit together before the fire, comfortably covered by one another’s wings, and you revel in the way his rough fingers feel against yours as he caresses them.

“We have lasted this long,” he murmurs as he turns to you, his eyes as warm as liquid honey, “the fey will rise again.”

You will always fear that the tides of war will not be on your side, but you have faith in him. You trust him. You would be willing to pair for life in a Bonding Ceremony with him. Perhaps, one day, you will.

“I will be there to see you lead us,” you reply, and steal much too brief of a kiss.

He kisses you in ways human fairy-tales can only dream of. When you are enraptured by one another, the warmth of him is all-consuming. The weight of his hand at your hip and the feeling of his talons easing into your hair steal your breath. It’s even more spellbinding when he’s soft with you, when one greeting kiss becomes another, and another still, as though no matter the length of time that’s passed since you were last together, it was much too long.

That’s not to say it never darkens, though.

He would never hurt you. He would never allow anyone to hurt you.

Borra is not the kind to sit by passively and allow his mate to be encroached upon. Desert and Tundra fey are, by far, the most carnivorous, and the sharpness of his teeth mean the bite marks he leaves where anyone can see them are jewel-dark and tend not to fade quickly - not even on another desert fey.

human!reader:

I remain firm in the belief that Borra wouldn’t fall for just any human. Our man has Been Through It. Placing trust in people w/ a history of committing systematic genocide against your people is, uh. Hard(TM.)

Also it’s, uh, “difficult” to believe Ulstead is as much of a utopia as everyone paints it as, considering Ingrith the Genocidal Maniac was queen. John wanted his wife not to be committing atrocities behind his back, But, Y’know. (Don’t even get me started on Perceforest.)

After what Udo did for a group of trapped, human children when the tomb-bloom bombs were turned on Ulstead, the settling dust meant you were more than willing to approach the other Dark Fey when the dust settled.

You met tending the bullet wound on his arm. You were as gentle as you could be, and a bit overly-apologetic. Though his face betrayed him, he largely didn’t flinch.

You did not point that out to him.

You honestly didn’t think anything would come of it, it was just a kind gesture, you would’ve done it for anyone (in theory, though that wasn’t necessarily the truth).

You don’t dance at parties, though, and you both have that in common.

A light, halfway-obligatory conversation at the fringes of Aurora’s wedding turned into wandering off together. The gardens of Ulstead were horrible barren even before life was taken upon them.

He does not trust you enough to take you to the moors. He does not know you, and that is alright with you.

You sit together on the Ulstead-side of the fast-moving river and talk half the night.

It is the only bright spot you imagine you’ll get for a while, so you savor it. You don’t usually talk much. He doesn’t usually talk much. But you work your way up to a real conversation and a casual level of comfort in speaking to one another.

He is the one who leaves. His people need to be fully accounted for. Some of them will return to the Nest, inevitably, and you don’t know if he’ll be among them, but you watch him go and you hope that he won’t.

Rebuilding Ulstead will take time. Surprisingly, the queen turning bombs on her own village doesn’t endear anyone to her bullshit plight.

You imagine, at first, that you’ll be entirely on your own before the king, the new queen and her husband all show up with royal helpers.

Which also doesn’t go over that well.

A version of “we appreciate the help, but no one’s ever helped us before, so maybe leave us to handle our own affairs because we know what we’re doing,” might get said.

That doesn’t mean everyone agrees with you, but there’s a clear dichotomy between those who have been largely failed by the crown when it was on Ingrith’s head against those who were not, be it by chance or by favoritism.

For having enough of a lack of sense to stand up to your leadership, you end up something of a de-facto leader yourself. At the very least, the other citizens of Ulstead are just fine with you talking on their behalf if it means you’ll be the idiot arrested for treason eventually when they aren’t.

The problem is: the crown wants to change things. They want to fix everything. And that’s a lot of work for them, let alone you.

But it lands you at the castle with a small group of others during what appears to be Yet Another Day Of Back To Back Treaty Meetings.

Honestly, the crown may have forgotten you all were coming.

Progress stalled a bit while they were trying to figure out how to do what the Dark Fey needed them to accomplish without completely riling up every other noble and halfway-important member of the gentry in the unified kingdoms.

You may have had the lack of sense to offer up a potential solution even though you weren’t supposed to be listening in, and, hi, though you didn’t endear yourself to the Fey council by doing so, it’s still not as terrible of a death glare you would’ve gotten from the nobility.

You’re not supposed to be there and you know it, but somehow, you thought-volleying with the royals lends the Dark Fey to proposing a solution of their own (that does not have an ‘or else’ tacked on at the end of it).

You apologize at the end, of course, but “with your permission,” Borra stays to listen to your own meeting.

He’s largely an observer, and you do not pull any punches when your companions certainly do. It’s a strange thing to see reflected in human not-leadership, but, when the meeting breaks with a similar lack of conclusion, there’s a grain of respect between you.

Inevitably, your inconsequential meetings continue that way until you end up just sitting at the same table the whole time and bothering Philip together.

Either of your success won’t come with grand fanfare, you know that, but there’s an intrinsic satisfaction to knowing that people who depend on you will be taken care of no matter who that pisses off.

Which you tell him one night when your meetings run too late and you all end up overnighting in the castle, the last place any of you necessarily want to be. Too many guards, too much bad history.

You may have obtained some mildly-illicit wine and end up camped out on a balcony with him, not exactly intending on sleeping but not exactly intending on not sleeping, either.

The moors are gorgeous, even from there. You’ve never wanted to go there before, but you think you could, one day, when your work is done in Ulstead. Problem is, there seems like there’s just so much to do. Like no matter what you do, you risk failing someone. Doing something wrong. Any misstep could cost you, and you hate having that over your head.

“I know.”

Cue the most loaded of pauses.

You should say something reasonable. Reassure one another. It would be less painful if you opened your mouth and something about the massacre came out.

For a solid minute and a half, you have a genuine heart to heart. Leadership is not thrust upon the unwilling, nor is it inherited; leaders emerge in times of crisis.

It would’ve lasted longer had he not thought of Conall.

You are not drunk enough to justify holding his hand, but you do anyway.

You can almost guarantee that he is not in any way drunk and he cannot justify holding your hand either, but he does.

You should leave everything unresolved just like your meetings. You really should...

But you don’t.

You would love to say something great and empathetic and astoundingly compassionate, but it’s a stumbling, half-assed reassurance and there is absolutely nothing you can do to make either of you feel any better.

But it gets you a little smile, and, for the moment, that’s enough.

You feel painfully transparent when your meetings with the crown resume. You feel like you’re fighting harder because of him (and you are), and that everyone can tell.

Including him.

But you want this. If for no better reason than to relieve some of this burden, you want to accomplish peace and prosperity and all the magical qualities it involves.

Inevitably, you do. Sort of. “Progress is achieved in miserable inches,” as far as restructuring the kingdom for human equity is concerned; for the Dark Fey, the crown can haul some ass because it’s not exactly like a magical inter-species genocide has precedent.

You’re glad. None of that Ingrith-sponsored wedge-driving between your people and theirs over something as petty as bureaucracy; they went through hell and they have every right to be legally protected.

But just before you get ready to spend the night staring at your ceiling and wondering how much of your life you’re about to waste going in and out of Ulstead Palace, there’s a knock at your window.

A knock that smokes when it touches the wrought iron frame of your window, but doesn’t recoil anyway.

You’re in your pajamas, but, y’know, to hell with it. The least you can do is go outside so he doesn’t have to touch the iron, which was a pretty common thing in Ulstead for reasons you never really put to thought until All This Got Started.

You certainly don’t expect to be swept right off your feet and taken airborne.

There might be a little panicked screaming and clinging involved.

As well as a little light laughter before you’re told to hold on.

You do.

Never mind the fact that you’re definitely having a panic attack, being higher up in the air than you would’ve ever considered reasonable, it doesn’t take you long to realize you’re going on a fly-over of the moors.

This time, when you don’t speak to one another, it has nothing to do with awkwardness.

You have no idea that he’s watching your face. That grain of respect has become a budding trust, and he needs to make sure it’s true - humans have never been anything but Ingrith and the poachers, in his experience. There should be no conceivable difference between them and you.

Except there is. There unquestionably is. You did not ask for this, you did not want this, and when it’s given to you - freely - you marvel at what you see.

He takes you as far as Perceforest before heading back, and you barely manage so much as a thanks before your feet are back on the ground.

That was a victory lap, you think. A victory lap between friends. Never mind that your heart did plenty of things when you neared the ground and your sudden proximity to his eyes, warm as the late-afternoon sun, clicked in your mind.

You’ve almost convinced yourself that it’s a reassurance by the time you get back to the palace.

But he’s waiting for you.

You don’t understand why, at first, he has what he wants, doesn’t he? He has everything he needs?

When he had every reason not to trust your kind, a human came to him with a touch as light as a feather’s plume. A human that never once asked for anything from him, yet gave readily. You don’t have to go forward alone.

You have no business taking his hand, but you do.

                                                   __________

Tag List: @squishy-jellyfish​, @mor-ranr, @blacksirenswolf​, @swim-reaper​, @thetempleofthemasaigoddess​, @deathonyourtongue​, @boxxyass​, @madlenfireknight​ Message me if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future works. Looking for more? Click my icon; there’s a masterlist.

[cyrelia-j]

[fic] Eidolon (pre Jack/Parmak, Kelas-centric)

So I had an idea a while ago to write an AU set in 70s New York between these two involving quantum stuff though this is Cardassia centric. Whenever Jack's POV gets written it'll be more of a blast from the past.

Summary: Kelas Parmak is no longer forced to toil in the work camp for his political idealogies, instead his sentence has been commuted to guarding the wormhole and watching those coming through before sending them back. It's not the life he would have envisioned for himself but he supposes it's a life.

Warnings: none really except that it's AU and perhaps pretty introspective

Thanks for anyone willing to give this one a shot :)

Cardassians don’t believe in the human concept of Heaven and Hell. The Cardassian vision of the afterlife is an endless Hall of Memories where one can spend an eternity roaming the halls reliving every moment of mortal existence. In the Hall of Memories, one passes through a silver door through a long corridor that can stretch seconds or eons to cross the barrier back to the land of the living. That barrier, that golden door, is opened with the understanding that everything left behind will remain vaulted for eternity, and yet slough off like dead scales upon awakening. 

One well known child’s tale tells a story which tells of two lovers so afraid to trust their memories to Mother Cardassia, that they both vow to walk back through the silver door without ever glimpsing a single moment, choosing instead to forsake the gift of The State and blink out of existence. It is then said the two are doomed to an endless rebirth of lives where they’re fated to meet as enemies, killing each other, remembering that pact upon the moment of death, their only memory of each other that final betrayal, eyes meeting eyes, the halls left blank.

In short, it is better to let one’s trust and devotion remain with Oralius, with the Ancients, with The State than to trust something as fickle as the whimsical emotion.

Kelas Parmak remembers hearing that story as a child. His mother would occasionally tell that one at nights as he and his parents fell off to sleep in the shared warmth of the tent. The Steppe of Nokar was always cold, but it’s a cold that he longs for nonetheless. He’s dreamt about returning home since he was forced to leave after the plague came, since he was adopted by the old doctor Parmak, since he was a doctor himself, since he was imprisoned after what the humans would call a “fall from grace.” Grace, as the humans believe is the ultimate salvation, the final blissful and beautiful blessing of the gods. In a way it reminds him of the Bajorans’ worship of the Prophets and makes for a pretty story for those toiling beneath a cruel and unjust God of the living to look towards.

Parmak supposes that were he to “repent his sins” properly then he might be allowed some similar salvation. He might be allowed to finally return to the North after a lifetime of servitude to a series of curious masters. Sometimes he dreams of the cold winds and the snow. Sometimes he imagines that the heat of the unforgiving sun beating down on him during the day is the warmth of a heat blossom stone. In that picture his mother is seated to his right, his father to his left, and in the center the gently glowing orb illuminates the darkness of the thermal tent. He likes to lie back on the hard ground with that daydream, his scales soaking that heat from the afternoon sun before he forces himself to move and take shelter in the shade.

Parmak is no longer forced to toil in the work camps. He received that notice after three years had taken its toll on his bent spine and poor vision. He only notices because his prescription has changed; his former colleagues used to jeer at him for retaining just one of many reminders of his poor heritage, that being his spectacles. He also refused to cut his hair and it’s since grown back in the years that he’s been “free”. He’s woven the beads back in, honoring his deceased tribe, looking he thinks like a  proper “Northern savage” when he peers into the small reflective surface of a PADD. Elim Garak used to tell him that he was “breathtaking” – which Parmak always understood to be a deliberately ambiguous statement. Enabran Tain said that he was “sufficient for the purposes that he was acquired for.” Sometimes Parmak smiles at that thought. 

Garak seemed to think he was sufficient enough to try and steal away from the old man.

Garak had also thought to get his sentence commuted for “good behavior”. Tain had pulled a few strings of his own. Parmak smiles and shakes his head at that as he leans back against the shade of one of the high rock formations in the midst of the Valley of the Hebitians. He turns the page of the book thoughtfully, wondering as he often does if he truly will be here the rest of his life. The average Cardassian lives to be two hundred ten. That figure is slightly lower for males closer to Y001 of the spectrum but where he’s X210 it’s a negligible difference really. A few months at most? He’s not terribly tall by Cardassian standards. He’s 180 centimeters tall which is average though perhaps a touch tall for his designation but he’s always identified male so… So it’s a silly notion given that he’s likely got another hundreds years of life barring disease. It’s not any more harsh here than the steppe.

The steppe, Nokar, lies eight hundred kilometers north, crossing the rest of the valley to the shore then swimming the massive channel of the Krill which separates Eheen and Nokar. It’s a fanciful notion and without a skimmer or the novel device that humans call a bicycle he doesn’t imagine that such an endeavor would come to any amount of success. They drop him food, but only enough for a week. Not enough to sustain that sort of prolonged journey and they’d surely noticed were he to go missing. But would they really come after him? Is his position here really so vital to the security and enduring life of The State? Somehow he doubts it or else this would be considered a high position of honor with perhaps a stipend, a rotating caste of honored to serve here with more creature comforts than a tent and whatever texts he asks for to read. 

His task is guarding the wormhole. It’s a rather small unremarkable thing now that he’s seen it appear so many times since he’s been here. He supposes that the first time it was a curious sight, seeing the swirling blue vortex appear in middle of the inhospitable ruins, but he was far more concerned with the arrival of the creature through it. That was the reason that he was here, after all. As it had been explained to him, the hole opened to a planet some hundreds of light years off, far less advanced than theirs, populated by some manner of creature with a common genetic ancestral lizard some three hundred twenty million years ago. He wonders if all carbon based lifeforms in the farthest reaches of the galaxy have similar origins with different branches.  The feathers of birds, the fur of mammals, and their scales all comes from that common lizard. 

Parmak had been somewhat disappointed to see that the first one didn’t have a tail either.

He’d dutifully read from the script, the language strange and hard to pronounce but he felt it better than relying on the translator. The translations that came through were far from perfect but the scientists from the ministry who’d helped him learn to use it assured him that the more use he made of it, the more accurate it would become. The creature had seemed stunned that he spoke its language no matter how poorly, and the initial fear it seemed to have dissipated upon a rather critical eye to his appearance. They exchanged names, the creature was very eager to provide its name, and Parmak found the man named Paul to be his first introduction to the beings known as humans. 

Paul listened to the instructions he gave, content to return home with little fanfare, and as he’d been ordered, Parmak kept him company, shared his food getting good data on what humans found appetizing. He was careful not to answer any questions with any particular detail, thankful that Paul hadn’t pressed on the matter of computer that ran without tubes and a world in the care of “commie bastards”, nodding, chalking this up to a dream, Parmak supposed, until the hole reappeared a few days later. He was sure to warn with a wave of his hand, that the landscape wasn’t particularly hospitable, and he couldn’t guarantee safety for any making it to civilization. Paul looked out the tent as he chewed thoughtfully on a rod of pickled root and concurred, saying that was all well and good for the younger crowd but he’d be happy to sleep in a bed out of the heat.

Parmak noticed a similar pattern, though there were a few so determined not to return to whatever they felt they were fleeing, they decided to risk the desert. Parmak always wondered what became of them. Likely they died of exposure. He learned quickly that the humans as they were called had poor heat tolerance. That was where he first heard the term “Hell” to describe the eternal inferno they envisioned for the wicked upon death. One strangely garbed human woman firmly declared that this place was nothing short of hell and Parmak laughed so loudly at that he was sure he gave her an awful fright as she made a strange gesture with her right hand, forehead, sternum, left shoulder, right shoulder, a strand of beads warded at him curiously.

He kept his distance and left her food and short notes until it reappeared. 

That was rare though, the humans tended not to be afraid of him. Most of them found him a curiosity, asking to touch his hair, always his ridges, his scales, a few asking for far more personal liberties that he had no inclination to grant. Many asked questions, some technical, some philosophical, Parmak meeting a lot of fascinating conversationalists along the way. There was a young man who asked him to write, so against his better judgement he sent a short note with an address along with a young woman passing through, only to find some years the both of them coming through with a small child, a photograph of the three of them, and a box of something they called chocolates, saying they never would have met if not for him.

He kept that small picture as a keepsake.

It was a curious existence; months of inactivity broken up only by the arrival of some other human visitor merely relieved that he had no interest in “abducting them” or “running tests” or any other number of strange things. He found they didn’t in fact have a common language but the location of the “quantum event” –that term always garnered an understanding nod though Parmak suspected a lot of them did not in fact understand – never strayed from the same geographical location (New York though the name meant nothing to him) where the inhabitants primarily spoke something called “English”. There were a few times there were others speaking some foreign tongue entirely but they could usually understand a few phrases between them and he begun adding something called “Spanish” to the translator’s protocols as well. 

Parmak supposed if there was a Hell on Earth as the humans called it there were certainly worse ways to spend an eternity. He could consider himself content with the texts he was allowed, with the small garden he was attempting to beat into submission, and even the ruins he occasionally allowed himself to wander. He learned more about the humans on the other side of the void: stories of things like amusement parks, movies, rainforests and lush green mountains, a world yet to be ruined as theirs. There were a few humans who came through with still images to show him of their world and he had a couple of them printed on the paper carefully kept in that same keepsake box. He thought often of his friends, and that picture made him wonder some nights, as he usually didn’t allow, what life might have been like to have paired or trined off in such a fashion.

He dismissed those outright, chastising himself for not being more obedient and content.

Still, there’s a restlessness that festers in him, irrational at his age he supposes but... it’s likely that nervous energy that prompts him to run that wormhole today. The disruption is erratic  and can’t be timed to an exact science, but there’s always a change in the air when it’s due to appear again. Parmak feels it, a strange resonance through his scales, a break in the atmosphere, and just today his heart races, not content to let the guest linger, not content to stand there quiet and calm, or come up non threatening and bowed. 

Today he runs. 

Parmak is thankful that if nothing else, the punishment he’s been given assured that he’s remained fit, even into middle age. He rises quickly, the sun starting to set at night as he kneels on the ground, head to the hard dirt in a meditative position. His head comes up and he brushes the brown pants off automatically before foregoing the sandals. In a hurry, he’d sooner not risk stepping on a scorpion or hitting a sharp rock, but he trusts in… in Mother Cardassia to keep him safe, taking that leap of faith as he runs faster, feeling the charge in the air, feeling his muscles sing and his heart race, his head telling him he’s a fool but he’s been there so many years, so long alone that he doesn’t care if one human thinks he’s a monster charging with his grey skin and white hair.

The man who comes through the vortex doesn’t run at the sight of him, doesn’t cower, doesn’t tremble.

The man who comes through the vortex looks up at him with a mess of auburn hair and the most brilliant hazel eyes that he’s ever seen in his life, and Parmak stumbles when he looks in those eyes, trying to stop, trying not to run into him but…

The man who comes through the vortex stands there looking at him, pulling his thumb from his mouth, arms out to catch him as they collide, both of them crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

That’s when he meets Jack.

[talesofthemultiverse]

The Interloper

The Keldons weren't the best of company, but one couldn't deny their bond.

As Solfrid nibbled at the carved off pieces of colos meat in front of her, the tent was filled with uproarious laughter, as the humans and elves scattered at the tables around her challenged each other to feats of strength and might.

She sighed. Despite their initial hostilities, the Keldons were kind to her when she first came to Dominaria, offering her food and shelter in a harsh, cold, landscape. But maybe a harsh, cold, landscape would make her feel more useful in the world.

"Hey Sol!" A cheery, pale gray elf happily sat down next to her, before tilting her head. "What's wrong?" "Oh, hey Reise," she replied wearily. The towering figure next to her was one of the first to welcome her to the country, albeit with fiery weapons instead of her passionate words. "It's nothing, just... a little out of place. How have you been?"

"What? Oh sweetie..." she suddenly embraced her, taking this moment to steal a bit of meat off of Solfrid's plate. "Do you want to maybe talk about it?"

Solfrid shrugged. "I dunno. Might just eat and gather berries later..." She pushed around some greens on her plate as Reise took another bite of her meat.

"Awww, c'mon Sol." She said, taking a break from her food crimes to look her in the eye. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

As Solfrid looked Reise in her warm, hazel eyes, she felt her slight smile and caring demeanor make her cheeks redden, before she looked away timidly. "I... I think I'm good."

Reise's general aura of glee faded. "Oh. Well, just keep in mind that you can always talk to me, okay?"

"O-of course... thank you." "You're very welcome." Reise was much more sympathetic than the others, yet was still as likely to take up arms for a cause. She wasn't the most influential of Keldons, but she was able to give her a place to feel safe in a strange and unfamiliar world. Reise quickly tore into her colos meat as Solfrid ate her greens, the former hastily going to arm wrestle with some of the others after her meal.

Solfrid made her way outside, frost coating the patchwork ground of dirt and sprigs of grasses. She wasn't a fighter. She never was, raised to frown on any form of hostility. But Keld decided to challenge her beliefs, with a culture founded on war and combat. She learned about the past of Keld, how many historical Keldon practices involved things she couldn't imagine, and how the Elves of Skyshroud became synonymous with the Humans of Keld, with the most prominent figure becoming the Warlord Rahda. Since her ascent through the hierarchies of Keld, she has helped to shake off some of the more problematic elements of Keldon culture, despite fervent opposition. But even with her dive into Keldon lore, she felt... disconnected. In a universe full of countless other worlds and cultures, she managed to travel to the one place that was almost completely against everything she stood for. She didn't belong in a country of warmongers.

She sat down, a lone weed flowering in front of her. Her hands cupped around it, and a thin veneer of frost wrapped around the stem, surrounding the many petals, extending them into a more familiar form. Kaldhiem never had many flowers, but her favorite one of the few there were was the Edelhvit. A symbol of connection and dedication, the Edelhvit is usually given to a cherished loved one as a sign of commitment. She wished for the bond that it symbolised, and a stray tear fell down to form a perfect frozen drop in the center of the flower.

As she sighed deeply, the sounds of a hunting party leaving the tent entered her ears. They were off to find a stray gargadon, for meat or for mount. She wiped her face, leaving the frozen flower to try and find a berry bush to harvest. While leather and steel were Keld's bounty, the fruit was a diamond in the rough, not yet completely domesticated, yet containing a tartness that made any food served with it that much richer.

As she began to collect the small, round berries, she heard the jovial band begin to canvass the tundra. Nothing new. The ground crunched under her footsteps, as she unconsciously followed the hunting party on her search for bushes to harvest. It wasn't until she saw something out of the corner of her eye that she realized she was following them.

A glint out of the corner of her eye was the only sign she needed to know that she wasn't the only one traveling throughout the Keldon wastes. In an instant, a wall of frozen water raised between the group and the lone figure, the arrow that was loosed being embedded in the ice.

The figure that stared at Solfrid was undeniably from off-world. Her long, jet-black hair hung down in from her serene, unyielding face, a scowl painted unceremoniously on it. Clad in red-and-black leather armor, she gritted her teeth, and the arrow meant for the Keldons exploded, leaving chilling rubble where a wall once was. She took another arrow out from her quiver and nocked it, aiming it not at the Keldons, but Solfrid's heart.

Another wall of ice made short work of the arrow, and vice versa, before the strange woman began to send a volley of shots flying to the confused hunting band. While a snowy wind was able to tilt the projectiles off-course, Solfrid knew that she couldn't stay on deflection duty forever. She focused, before sending her own blast of ice and snow towards the assassin. While it was easily dodged, it gave her time to get closer to the archer, as she yelled out to the Keldons to go back to the camp and start to pack. Upon her 'closer inspection' of the arrows before, she saw that they were barbed on the end, making it impossible to pull them out without an accompanying chunk of flesh. Nothing that would be fun to deal with.

"Who are you?!" she yelled.

"Are you in any real position to ask?" The words were spit at her, closely followed by another arrow.

As ice filled the air from the impact of the arrow, Solfrid broke into a mad dash towards the woman, before having to set up another wall and doing it again. With each shot fired she further closed the distance between the two, until she was close enough to unleash a powerful cloud of snowy mist that enveloped the hill. Before long, a small light began to cut through the haze, as a halo of flaming arrows implanted themselves in the ground to clear the assassin's vision. But before she could take in her surroundings, a column of ice collapsed upon the assailant.

The moderately timid woman knelt down upon the frozen prison that she had made for the archer, and frozen tears began to drop from the corners of her eyes. This woman had a chaotic energy about her that she had only heard whispers of. A lone point in her past that had haunted her since her time as a young girl. The Kannah were amazing storytellers, and such stories were exactly what she was afraid followed her to Dominaria. As tear by tear fell onto the frozen surface of the column prison, a rhythmic shattering sound got louder and louder.

A wrought iron chain with spikes interspersed onto every few links broke through the ice, leaving jagged edges that scratched at the skin. The crimson-and-jet-clad assassin snarled, like a feral beast, looking up towards the protector of this band of raiders. She’s not one of them. Her clothes aren’t the cold leathers of the Keldons, but soft furs that warm one’s very soul. Her hair is of the golden sun, while the Keldons share their hair with the volcanic ash that littered the land. The Keldons were towers among the people of Dominaria, let alone in all the planes, but she was less than average, among their standards. Who was she? Were she a weakling, the tribe would make short work of her. Yet her hands weren’t as calloused and rough as the others. She couldn’t be a Keldon. But why was she here? Garna’s Lieutenant said nothing about an interloper. No matter. There wasn’t any rule against killing people that weren’t the target.” And it would be fun to watch her writhe.

As she stepped out of the pillar, the sound of tears hit her ears sharply. Her bow was in her hands in a flash, before sending a bolt into the blue, followed by the chain. As the spikes dug into the ice, she ran parallel to the face of it, before jumping and letting the momentum swing her up onto the platform behind the interloper. She pulled a knife out from her belt and gave it a slight toss into the air before a frosty blast sent it skidding onto the wastes. Before she knew it, she was dropped onto the ground with a hard thud, along with the fateful crack of a rib.

“Damn you…” she grimaced, before smiling wildly. “I’m going to enjoy flaying that pretty skin off of your body…”

Solfrid’s bloodshot, teary eyes dug into the assassin. “Why are you coming after me?” A wave of cool shot off across the ground, before sealing the woman to the ground. “I did nothing wrong you—”

“Sol!” A familiar voice echoed across the tundra. She turned her head to look at Reise before the arrow turned to shade and pierced through her chest.

As the arrow hit its mark, the elf in the corner yelled “Solfrid,” her voice breaking midway through the word. She couldn’t see the archer dissipate into a smoldering pile of ash out of her peripheral, her focus pointed on Solfird’s body crumpling on top of the pillar.

She clambered up the pillar quickly, as she was fairly familiar with how her friend constructed her sculptures. Upon a quick inspection of her body, and tearing the soft cloths from her skin, she determined that the arrow never penetrated the skin, but managed to leave whatever mark it made internally. Reise hefted Solfrid up onto her shoulders, and carried her back to the camp.

When Solfrid awoke, the same hazel eyes that looked at her earlier at dinner melted with satisfaction. “Sol, you’re awake!”

As she sat up, a sharp pain hit right below her heart, causing her to slump back down. “Gah… what… what happened? Where is she?”

As Reise stroked her golden locks, a wave of calm washed over her. “Shh. Don’t stir too much, you need rest in order to heal.”

“She got away…” a sigh escaped her as she laid back down. “I couldn’t stop her from…”

“Nobody is hurt, Sol,” Reise interrupts, “The hunting party was able to retreat before she could injure anyone, and she must have knew that reinforcements were coming because there was no sight of her after I took you back here… It’s safe.”

“...I...o-okay…” Solfrid muttered, not believing the words that she spoke.

Reise leaned over her, the hand that was combing her hair now resting against her cheek. “...I don’t want to see you doing something that stupid again, okay? I… I care about you, and it’d tear me up if you threw your life away doing something dumb…”

Solfrid flushed at the contact, hastily squeaking and nodding in agreement.

“Good… I hope you don’t mind me being around, cause I’m the one that’s going to be taking care of you for your recuperation.” Reise stood and walked away. “Oh and the hunting party got a gift for you, given you saved their lives.”

As she said that, Solfrid’s eyes wandered onto a colos-wool stuffy, ironically, of a colos. The craftsmanship was atrocious, but it was somehow adorable, in an absolutely horrifying sort of way. The Keldons weren't the best of company, but one couldn't deny their bond.