#jessamine press

[dxsole]

Forgiveness was something that Jessamine often had on her mind. It's a tricky thing, isn't it? God forgives. You repent and he wipes you clean, fresh as fallen snow.

Your soul is clean but your flesh remembers. Muscle memory. It remembers how she forced fangs into jars, pulling poison from snakes. It remembers digging graves. It remembers filling them.

"...Do you think it's possible to be forgiven by the dead?" The dead can't turn against her again or speak out of turn, but they could still haunt and that, above all other things, is what frightened her so.

[jessamine-rose]

JESSAMINE IM PARCHED DO U HAVE ANY CAPITANO THOUGHTS OR HC’S UP YOUR SLEEVE

Imagine a typical winter in Snezhnaya. It is freezing cold, to the point that your gloved hands feel like ice.

Of course, Capitano notices this. Wordlessly, he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers to share his warmth. If you allow it, he will even press soft kisses to your knuckles.

Problem solved, except there is no solution for your flushed cheeks. Hopefully, your lover won’t notice. (He does. And he finds it endearing.)

[amchara]

Mother's Day

Tessa character study ficlet.

Tessa and her family, a century apart.

(Gen, canon Jessa, canon Wessa references. Tessa, Mina, Kit, James, Lucy)

Notes: Hello! I'm not dead. Still here. Please enjoy this brief fic.

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The moments between waking and sleep were always the most disconcerting when memories and sensations were hazy, fragmented and too often blurring together. 

Arms cradling around her waist, warmth at her back, a masculine protective presence hovering that she could burrow into, with fleeting kisses gracing the nape of her neck. 

Most often it was the gentle rumble of Jem’s voice leaning over her as they both woke to Mina’s soft but insistent crying on the baby monitor, offering to bring her in so Tessa could feed her. His graceful dip down to kiss her forehead, an almost wistful look in his eyes as he rose out of their bed. 

But sometimes, it was the soft, warm Welsh lilt and sharp nose pressing into her neck as Will whispered, Tess, Tess, my Tessa and other endearments she’d later ask him to translate. A rough chuckle at the knocks at the door, one usually loud and insistent, and another steady but unyielding. Will’s eyes twinkling and a mock-sadness as he announced there might be some unexpected guests visiting that evening. 

Occasionally at times, there were slightly deeper voices, rough and ready, or cultured and refined that drifted upwards like smoke in her mind. Bedfellows she had turned to in the lonely half-century without either of her anchors. Empty beds that she had filled, out of desperation when the loneliness became too much and she ached to feel connection outside her spellbooks and the scholarly, silent halls of the Spiral Labyrinthe. 

Most days, she could live with these ghosts. Half-remembered and emerging like long-lost flotsam on the tide of memory. 

What was harder was a giggle of a certain timbre she sometimes imagined in the hallways of Cirenworth, long after she knew Mina was asleep. The furtive footstep of a teenage body inching through the halls, not knowing he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was being. 

When she was half-asleep and cradling Mina to her, she could feel them press in close - the shape of Mina’s nose called to mind the tiny button she and Will had cooed over when they first held James between them, or when chubby fingers grasped her hand fiercely when she tried to let go, and a familiar scrunch of a face into a scowl that was just as easily transformed into a smile as her daughter (daughters?) watched their mother relent and continue to rock her to sleep. Or when the slumped shoulders of Kit watching Jem over the chessboard called to mind another keen-eyed look from golden eyes, or when Kit chewed on the end of a pen doing his homework, and she resisted the urge to tell him that he’d get ink on his teeth from the quill if he wasn’t careful.

She wanted to call out sometimes, to these ghosts. Nothing like Jessamine’s haunting of the London Institute, but spectres of her own making. 

They weren’t new ones though but ones long honed a half-century of being unwillingly drawn in by glimpses of little girls with ribboned hair skipping up and down on the pavement, or triggered by the pushed-up, spectacled grimace of sullen teens on trains or in dusty public libraries as they retreated from the world into books. 

She tried not to stare. Tried to ignore the instinct to respond when a yell of Mum! echoed and remained unanswered. 

“Humans are not meant to live this long, to forget and yet remember it all,” she had whispered to Magnus, one cold, rainy evening in Paris. He gave her a sideways glance out of his cat-shaped eyes and gulped down the last of his whiskey. “Good thing we’re not human then.” But his voice had been kind and she’d woken up to the warmth of the blanket he’d gently placed over her after she fell asleep in an armchair, an empty bottle of Bordeaux at her feet. 

She wondered sometimes, if having a family meant it was harder or easier to contend with the idea of neverending life as a warlock. 

This particular morning, Tessa was still cocooned in her duvet, eyes shut against an increasingly bright glow from the south-facing window, and the buzz of insects on a breezy May morning. She could hear whispering on the landing outside her room this morning, and- 

“Shhh, James don’t go in yet! It’s not yet ready.”

A barely heard scoff - “Luce, we have to go in before it melts, otherwise what’s the point?”

“Min-Min, don’t worry, I got this” - but the note of hesitation in Kit’s voice is clear, as if he’s blustering and pretending. An almost reassuring coo and burble from Mina, and Kit’s voice steadies. “Yeah, you’re right. How hard can it be?” 

A knock on the door. 

A knock on the door. 

A century apart - 

“Come in,” Tessa says, sitting up, and smoothing out the blankets. 

“Happy Mother’s Day!” say all her children, and Tessa smiles.

[starlessea2]

Wild-flower [Astarion]

Chapter 1 - Little Flower

Summary: “Once upon a time, you would have led me to that crypt—and not some pretty clearing in the forest.” His brows knitted with guilt. The laugh lines she's grown to love fall into a frown. “For what it’s worth. I thank the gods every night that they didn’t let me have you.” - Jessamine’s too trusting. If wild, blind naivety was a race, she would win it. Astarion’s a close second, only because he can’t help but follow her. A/N This is the start of a multi-chaptered fluff fest I've been mapping out for quite some time. The next part will likely come within the next day or so. Masterlist

Despite the wine haze she’d found herself in, Jessamine’s certain of one thing. He’s watching her. 

She glances back at the door where he lingers, propped with his arms crossed at his chest. He doesn’t belong here; he's far too clean. Far too handsome. But he’d caught her eye when she came down from the upper dorms, and she likewise hadn’t left his sight since. 

So instead of heading out like she ought to, Jessamine instead settled in at the Flophouse bar, glass of wine in hand—which had been mead before she discovered how utterly foul it tasted. 

Jessamine’s on her third glass by the time the silver-haired man makes his move. “Very rare one stumbles upon a wood elf in the heart of Baldur’s Gate,” he announces. “You’re a long way from home, little flower.” 

His words barely register. Through Jessamine’s bleary eyes, she finds the man. An elf, like herself, though more moon-like than forest-coated. His skin is paler than hers, and his eyes, much darker. Her breath catches; she really ought to reply.

“How could you tell?”

The man grins. He takes to the barstool beside her, as though her question had been an invitation. “I can smell it on you. The earth, that honeyed sweetness…” His hand raises and strokes the air between them. “You wear it well, my dear.” 

Jessamine’s lips part; she was being hit on. 

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise at her age. Yet, she wasn’t quite used to such direct attentions, either. Not without her sisters as buffers, or her father’s influence in the back of everyone’s minds. Something stirs inside of her.

“I— umm. I’m flattered,” she manages.

There’s a chuckle, and her gaze finds the bar.

Neither one of them speak for some time. Jessamine’s mind struggles to make sense of the nightly buzz: the bard tunes, the chatter, the clamour on the streets outside. It’s all a world away from the quiet birdsong she’d grown up with.

She feels the man’s breath on her neck. “So enlighten me…” he eventually says, “how did a creature as radiant as yourself end up in Fraygo’s Flophouse? Doesn’t your kind prefer frolicking about in a forest somewhere?”

The compliments seep right into Jessamine’s skin. He has her cornered. She’s acutely aware of their knees, ever-so-slightly touching, and his fingers, deftly circling his glass. In the span of a few minutes, he’d made her feel so nervous, so—inexperienced? 

Feeling his eyes on her, Jessamine musters every ounce of liquid courage to beckon him closer. And as he leans forward, she whispers through his hair, “It’s a secret.”

The man’s brow quirks. “Oh?” When she doesn’t elaborate, his eyes run over her, searching for any hint of a clue. By the time they return to her face, it’s burning. “I’m good with secrets,” he says back.  

Jessamine’s heart pounds. This is dangerous, she thinks. All alone, away from home—and she’s never had this much wine in one sitting. 

“Won’t you indulge me?” the man presses. “Let me guess, you've come seeking adventure... A scandalous affair, perhaps?” He pauses to gauge her reaction. "Or maybe, family disagreement?” 

Jessamine falters; he catches it immediately.

“Hmm, yes. How I relate to that! They made you feel stifled—trapped.” He takes a moment, fingertips ghosting over Jessamine’s flushed skin. “And what better place to seek freedom than the city proper. The one and only, Baldur’s Gate.”

Jessamine shudders.

“My, my, what a sweet thing you are.”

He edges closer. Jessamine loses herself in the contours of his face: his sharp jaw, sly smile, and the faint laugh lines bookending it. She barely notices when his thumb brushes against her ear, tucking fine wisps of hair behind it. 

The smallest of sighs escapes her. With not a single thought between her eyes, Jessamine leans into his touch. “Fresh as a daisy,” he whispers, “just waiting to be picked—” 

A damp rag slaps the bar between them; Jessamine jumps a mile.

“That’s enough of that, boy,” warns a man's voice. “I know your kind and the young miss ‘ere don’t deserve to be used by the likes of you.” 

Jessamine straightens in her seat. “Dashkent—” she sputters at the innkeep.

His expression is hard.

Despite his stature, Jessamine thinks the halfling is more intimidating than most men twice his size. And at this moment, there’s something fierce radiating from him.

Jessamine averts her eyes. She was undeserving of his worry. It was only by chance she'd been there to put out a fire in his storeroom a few days back. But since then, her lodgings had been free of charge, and she was no longer bothered by men in the dorms.

She barely knew him, yet as Dashkent looks down his nose at her companion, Jessamine's reminded of an overprotective uncle.

“Jessa,” he says, wringing out the rag in his hands, “keep yer wits about you with this one, a’right?” He shoots a look at the pale elf. “You’re too kind ‘a girl for someone like him.”

Harsh, Jessamine thinks. Yet a glance toward the man in question makes her second-guess herself.

Dashkent dismissed her before she has chance to think on it. “Off with ya now,” he says. “Go swig some water an’ get some rest, Jessa. Your next show’s tomorrow.”

Jessamine cringes at the reminder. She can only nod as the innkeep disappears into the back room. And with him gone, it becomes apparent. Whatever had been building between her and the other elf had been struck dead. She’s once again aware of her surroundings: the Flophouse and its drunkards (of which she's sorely included).  

Somehow, she almost feels as though she’s been trancing.  

A cough prompts Jessamine’s flight response. “I'm sorry about him,” she says; I should go, she thinks. But as she wobbles out of her stool, there’s a hand to steady her. 

“No need to run off, my sweet. I’m not scared away so easily.”

Something about the nickname stops Jessamine in her tracks. It disarms her enough that she doesn’t notice that she's being guided away from the bar. Her escort leads her to the Flophouse staircase, where she somehow finds courage to ask him his plans for the next day.

“If you've nothing to do, won’t you come to the Blushing Mermaid? I'll be performing there tomorrow night.” When he doesn't reply, Jessamine's heart quickens. “Only if you like—” she pauses.

She doesn’t even know his name.

“Astarion,” says the elf.

“Astarion,” she repeats. It's a pretty name, and it sounds pretty when she says it. “Tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, with a flash of teeth.

And Jessamine’s elated. 

They exchange goodnights, and promises to meet again. But as Jessamine returns to her lodgings with a new name on her tongue, it doesn’t register that she'd never given hers.

-

next chapter >

[birlcholtz]

not really on topic for this blog but i recently found this queer speculative fiction small press called neon hemlock (and just read yellow jessamine by caitlin starling, published by them as part of their 2020 novella series), and i found out they're doing a kickstarter for their 2024 novella series!!

the kickstarter is to cover upfront publishing costs for 6 novellas, plus a short story collection - caitlin starling is one of the authors, which is what drew my attention, but honestly all the stories sound cool, and you can get ebooks of all the novellas and the short story collection by pledging $42, which is like. SIX DOLLARS A BOOK. Y'ALL.

the kickstarter page has information about each of the books, so if you're interested in queer speculative fiction and/or supporting small presses, please take a look!! i've been browsing neon hemlock's catalog on their website as well and there's tons of stuff i want to read and i want them to succeed and keep publishing stuff ajflskghldksjf

[yanara126-writing]

They Had To Die - 1

Corvo Attano enters Dunwall tower fully intending to kill the Lord Regent. It doesn't work out how he intends.

-

Read here or on Ao3 (3090 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

-

Corvo slid the audiograph into the slot to play it for all the city to hear without much thought. He didn't quite know what was on it but whatever it was it would ruin the man. Perhaps even exonerate Corvo himself, though he wouldn't bet on it. His luck was not that good. Really he hadn't planned on doing it, hadn't even considered the possibility of proving the man's crimes, until the technician had brought it up. There was a vindictive part of him, the part that had demanded he take care of- No. That he kill the Royal Interrogator, the man who had tortured him for months on end and whose torments were the only interruption to his nightmares about Jessamine. Even as he skulked around everyone else, unwilling to kill people who had no idea about the atrocities being committed around them, that man had to die. That same part that had driven him to spill the only blood he had in the last week also demanded that he not simply kill the Lord Regent, the Spymaster, the Traitor. No, simple death was too good for the man who had Jessamine murdered and Emily held captive for months.

Whatever it was he'd been expecting when the audiograph slid out of view, it wasn't what he heard. Not a confession of plotting for the throne, not at first. The plague. The plague had been his fault as well. Corvo finds himself slumping against the machine, listening as raptly as the rest of the city surely was. There was so much more here than even he had been expecting. And yet... He thought he should call it worse. Jessamine would. And he was angry, not only for the lives pointlessly lost on accident when the plague had apparently gone out of control, but also for those intentionally extinguished, murdered for one man's idea of prosperity. Yet still, with honesty that was only possible in the corners of his own mind, he knew he wouldn't call it worse. That deep in his heart he could never consider anything worse than the murder of Jessamine and the pain inflicted on Emily. And then Burrows kept talking.

"I knew the truth would come out eventually. So there was no other way than to be rid of her, and take power myself. She had to die, you see. SHE HAD TO DIE."

The words, dry and almost desperate themselves kept reverberating in Corvo's ears as he bonelessly slid down the metal wall, his legs giving out underneath him. He'd known Burrows had been behind her murder. It was why he was here. He'd known, even before the Traitor had made it perfectly clear, that day before his scheduled execution. But hearing this now, hearing his twisted reasoning, hearing that Jessamine had been killed for being too close to uncovering a conspiracy... He should have seen it. It didn't matter that reconnaissance wasn't part of his job, he should have seen the danger to her right in front of his face, should have known that something was up when they sent him away, out of reach to protect her. He hadn't and now she was dead.

SHE HAD TO DIE

SHE HAD TO DIE

SHE HAD TO DIE

SHE HAD TO DIE

The words just kept roaring through his mind and he curled up tight, hands desperately pressed over his ears and face into his knees as if that would help, as if it could ever keep out the guilt drowning him. Suddenly the mask felt suffocating, as if it was melding into his head, weighing it down and pressing in with violence, so he yanked at the fastening and threw it across the small room, only dimly hearing it clank loudly into the wall. Distantly he could feel his nails start to dig into his scalp and something hot running running down the side of his head.

SHE HAD TO DIE

Over and over the torturous echo thundered through his mind, bouncing off every nook and cranny to be found there, louder and louder until he was sure his ears would bleed. Burrows was still talking, some distant, unreachable part of him that was still aware of the outside world supplied, but Corvo heard none of it. He vaguely registered the ping of the audiograph popping back out of the machine eventually and while it did nothing to quell noise in his head, it did make him aware of his location and his own ragged breaths. His head felt too warm, whether from tears, blood or exertion he had no way of telling or caring. But he had to get out. Now.

He stumbled his way to his feet, unsteady and clumsy and wobbled over to where he'd thrown the mask. Without any thought but the blaring need to get OUT he picked it up and put it back on. It still felt suffocating, wrong, but even that took a backseat to the all-consuming instinct to just run. One foot after the other and head filled with a cacophony of screams he stumbled his way down the stairs, past the deactivated arch pylon and out into the abandoned hallway. He blinked to a lamp and then down to the door more from muscle memory than active decision. The door surrendered to his forceful push and suddenly he was outside, surrounded by giant headlights and tallboys strutting across the yard. Cold air crept into his collar and under the mask, making him shiver for a moment, but it didn't help the earsplitting, blinding fog in his head.

Heedless of the lights and possible guards that he'd avoided before Corvo made a beeline for the Pavillon. For her grave. The stone with her name on it. He reached his goal in a haze, standing in front of the headstone and the world around him vanished.

She had to-

She had t-

His breath quickened and yet there was not enough air in his lungs. He gasped desperately trying to breathe past whatever was pressing down on his throat. Something was suffocating him slowly but surely and he couldn't- Where- he was in Coldridge strung up to a table and the torturer was slowly tightening the metal bands around his chest and throat. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe because SHE WAS DEAD-

Excruciating pain exploded through his back and he was thrown forward into the balustrade of the pavilion, slamming his head into the stone railing. Everything burnt and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from multiple open wounds but the fog had receded somewhat. He was at Dunwall Tower, and he had to not be here. Survival instinct took over, pushing past the suffocating feelings and Burrow's words still playing over and over in his head as Corvo realized a tallboy must have spotted him. He heard it charge up yet another electrical blast behind him and from one moment to the next he registered the blaring alarm.

Fuck.

With no moment to think, to focus and remember himself, Corvo simply threw himself over the railing, off the cliff and down to the walkways a good few metres below right as the charge hit the stone where he was just laying, blasting off part of the railing with a thunderous crack. The impact of his body onto the ground rattled something loose in him, both in his head and probably his chest considering the stabbing pain shooting from his ribs, and he remembered that he could have just blinked down, saving himself the probably broken ribs. Well, too late now.

The alarm was still loudly ringing through the complex and there were footsteps coming closer, as well as, more alarmingly, dog barking. Hissing through his teeth at the pain Corvo struggled to his feet and started running into the direction of the water-lock. No time for stealth, he'd already been spotted and deep in bones he knew that if he stayed still too long and let the adrenaline dip he would never get out of here again.

He only made it a few steps up the stairs to the gate when the dogs got him, the guards thankfully still a ways behind. One dog got him in the lower leg, sinking its teeth into his already bruised and burt flesh. A second one leapt onto his back as he stumbled, ripping into his right shoulder. He couldn't help the scream as he tripped, pushed over by the momentum and slipping on his own blood, only just managing to bring up his arms and not slam his head into the stairs. Desperately Corvo reached for his sword and stabbed blindly behind himself, catching one dog with the blade and irritating the other into letting go. Before it could latch on again he kicked his still somewhat whole leg out with as much force as he could muster. Something cracked but he didn't stay to check if he'd killed the cur. He scrambled back up and ran, forcing the doors open with his shoulder and nearly screaming again from the pain as the bloodied mass collided with steel, but the door gave.

Then the guards started firing at his back, loud cracks of pistol shots adding to the cacophony sounding through his ears. Finally at the edge of the water-lock Corvo made out a ledge further down where the bullets couldn't reach him, at least until the guards caught up, and forced all his remaining focus into a blink, but his concentration was too far gone. He threw himself through the void, the tell-tale tingle in his fingertips insignificant next to the burning agony, and reappeared a split second later, a hair's breath away from the ledge. He'd misjudged the distance. His eyes widened and he desperately threw his arm out, trying to catch himself on the ledge, but the stone was smooth and his strength fast fading. The ledge slipped out from under his helpless fingers and he plummeted down to the water below.

When he hit the surface his vision went white with pain and then everything felt suddenly very far removed. He could feel his body go limp and sink further down, detached, as if he was simply an uninvolved observer, and for that moment it was almost peaceful. Then the pesky need to breathe reared its head and from one second the next the agony returned, as well the raw, uncontrolled urge to survive. Without thought of anything he started struggling against the force dragging him down, kicking and throwing his arms to get up, Up, UP again until he finally broke the surface and gasped for air.

But he couldn't stay there, eventually the guards he could still hear shouting above him would think to look down. Dredging up the last bit of adrenaline he could still reach Corvo started swimming, ignoring the burning of open wounds and broken bones and the bloodtrail he was certainly spilling into the water. By the time he had left the lock behind himself and was in eyesight of Samuel and his boat his limbs were giving out. He dragged himself through the water as far as he could but it wasn't enough and just outside the boat's reach he started to sink again, body heavy as his arms and legs refused any further movement. He tried to get back up for air, to get into the boat, he tried, he tried so hard, *Emily, forgive me, I swear I tried*-

Water started pouring into his mouth, down his throat and into his lungs the same second as hands grabbed him under his arms and pulled him upwards. He broke the surface and started coughing, barely more than a limp, useless fish as his saviour yanked him over the side of the boat where Corvo stayed down only just so managing to undo the mask before he continued coughing and vomiting up water, lacking even the strength to claw into the wooden surface from the pain. After a moment of shuffling a blanket was gently draped over him which did little to really help the bonechilling cold settling into his limbs but it was appreciated anyway. The boat started moving as Samuel - it must have been Samuel, who'd fished him out of the water and given him the blanket, bless his soul - turned on the motor and started steering them away from the chaos that was Dunwall tower.

They stayed in relative silence for a while, Samuel keeping his hands on the rudder while Corvo was hacking out his lungs and shivering at the bottom of the boat, desperately clinging to the blanket. Only when they were a good distance away from the Tower where it was unlikely anyone would still be looking for them did Samuel speak up.

"Are you- are you alright, Corvo?" The question was certainly driven by honest concern, but Corvo nearly started laughing hysterically. Even drawing another breath had him coughing and spitting again however, his throat burning from the abuse along with the rest of him. "No, that was a stupid question, I'm sorry," Samuel muttered and the boat stopped moving as the quiet hum of the motor fell silent. Corvo was too tired to even wonder why. He found out regardless as Samuel crouched down beside him and started gently rummaging through Corvo's pockets, careful not to jostle him. Perhaps it should have concerned him to have someone else fumble with his stash that includes quite a few weapons while he was incapacitated like this, but it was Samuel who'd been nothing been kind to him and more importantly Emily, and Corvo was so, so very tired. It didn't take Samuel long to find whatever he was looking for and Corvo found himself pulled up into a halfway sitting position, leaning against the other man and unsure of how he'd gotten there. A bottle was pressed to his lips, tipping its cool contents into his mouth and he reflexively swallowed. The elixir ran smoothly down his throat, calming the itching burn that came from too much coughing and alleviating the pain throughout his body. Even his mangled leg stopped bleeding quite as badly and his ribs set somewhat. He still felt sore all over but at least it wasn't quite as agonizing anymore.

For a moment Corvo simply closed his eyes and breathed, leaning against Samuel who patiently sat still and waited. He was so, so cold and desperate for a change of clothes as well as a towel to dry his hair that was sticking to his head in a horrible mop.

"I can see it wasn't quite smooth this time, but you did a good job Corvo, you should know that. Even from the boat I could hear the announcements that they arrested the High Regent." Corvo went completely still, eyes suddenly wide, staring into the night sky above them. He'd- he'd forgotten about the mission. About killing the Traitor. The recording- it had shaken him so much he hadn't been able to think about anything else. He'd simply run. He hadn't killed the High Regent. He'd failed.

His breath started coming more quickly again as his chest felt too tight. The darkness of the night sky, blacker than the void, came closer and was about to swallow him whole. He couldn't- He didn't-

A hand started hesitantly rubbing circles on his back, the warmth pressing through his clothes in a startling contrast to the freezing wet cold. "It's alright, Corvo, it's over. We're almost back and I'm sure everyone- I'm sure Lady Emily will be happy to have you back. Everyone will shower you in praise and you can get something dry to change into. I'm sure they'll even get out the good stuff from the back cabinet. It's a big occasion and all with how you saved Dunwall. The High Regent is gonna rot in Coldridge forever with the confession you played for everyone. No getting out of that one without causing a riot." The words were halting, stumbling every new sentence as if unsure if they were the right ones. Rambling designed to distract with their amount rather than intended to truly communicate anything.

It did help a bit, grounded his thoughts back in reality. No, he hadn't killed Burrows. Maybe he should have. Maybe it was the right thing to do, but what was done was done. Burrows wouldn't get out of Coldridge, he had no allies that would risk their neck to get him out. And if it came to it, if heeded to be put down (if he needed to die)... Well, as Royal Protector to- to the new Empress. Emily would be empress. As Royal Protector to the new Empress he would have more than enough authority to have the man executed. Do it himself even. He could- he could fix this. His breathing evened out and the hand slowly receded though the older man made no move to leave completely, only looked at him with open concern.

Corvo wanted to thank him, assure him it was fine (it wasn't, would never be again, but that wasn't Samuel's fault), but the words wouldn't come. It happened sometimes, more since Coldridge. Instead he lifted a hand to his chin, the left one, as his right shoulder still protested painfully, and signed the thank you. Samuel, well meaning as he was, just seemed confused though assured that at least he was lucid again, and Corvo sighed, wiping away a drop of water that had run down into his eye. In the end he settled for simply nodding to the boatsman, an easy enough gesture to interpret, and Corvo sighed, wiping away a drop of water that had run down into his eye. In the end he settled for simply nodding to the boatsman, an easy enough gesture to interpret, and Samuel relaxed, a relieved smile on his face. He gave Corvo one more clap on the shoulder and got up with a grunt to bring them back the rest of the way, leaving Corvo to lie back down and try to rest, if only for a few minutes. He mercifully did not ask anything about the mission and Corvo offered nothing in return. They remained silent the rest of the ride back to the pub, only accompanied the splashing of the fans in the water, the quiet hum from the motor and their own thoughts.

She didn't have to die. Corvo didn't know if that was a comfort or not.

[westeroslive]

highgarden's  first  kingdom  wide  tournament  in  years  begins  with  the  presentation  of  the  knights  of  the  realm,  their  armour  holding  their  house  sigils  along  with  the  drapery  of  their  steeds.  their  safety  stands  in  the  gods  hands  now,  for  even  the  finest  of  armour  might  be  pierced  should  the  hit  land  true.  the  excitement  of  the  crowd  is  profound,  their  cheers  and  revelry  filling  the  space  as  the  knights  ride  in,  one  by  one  -  the  crowd  naming  their  favourites  early  on,  bags  of  coin  tossed  from  hand  to  hand  as  bets  are  made  young  and  old.  as  the  last  knight  is  presented,  before  they  stand  in  line  upon  their  horses,  the  crowd  grows  quiet  as  the  requesting  of  favours  begins:

daemon  celtigar :  requests  the  favour  of  the  lady  cersei  lannister,  claiming  her  charm  incomparable  among  the  ton.  the  lady,  upon  her  mother's  approval,   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗.

desmond  mallister :  requests  the  favour  of  lady dyanna marbrand. the lady, with great delight   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗.

gwayne  florent:  starred  down  his  rival  among  the  reach's  nobles,  before  requesting  the  favour  of  the  lyseni  beauty,  lady  shaera  rogare.  even  as  her  touch  lingered  upon  his  rival,  the  lady  shaera  herself  blushed  as  she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗.

jessamine  hightower:  failed to request a favour.

alaric  mormont:  requests  the  favour  of  the lady myranda, referring to her as his dearest. the lady. myranda claimed she would not dare deny him as she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

pearse  sunglass :  requests  the  favour  of  lady alyssa, declaring her deserving of such praise for her generosity as a most wonderful friend. the lady alyssa   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

viserra  targaryen :  requests  the  favour  of  their cousin, the lady dovasary as her dearest companion. despite being seemingly irritated at the request, lady dovasary   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

theon  stark :  rode directly to his lady wife, the lady shirei, and requested  her  favour. with their child giggling upon her lap, the lady shirei tied a ribbon of her own to their daughter's and   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

calyx  targaryen :  with  his  brother's  permission,  requests  the  favour  of  his  good  sister,  the  princess  catraena,  insisting  it  would  be  unthinkable  should  the  beacon  of  grace  and  devotion  herself  not  be  named  the  queen  of  beauty.  with  happiness  the  princess   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗.

elias  baratheon :  charms his would be queen as he requests  the  favour  of  the lady helaena zalyne. helaena blushed as she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

aelyx  targaryen :  requests  the  favour  of  his long time betrothed, the lady alysane, with practiced words. the lady alysane approached the stands as she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

kit  moraqos :  failed to request a favour.  

matthos  redwyne :  rides through cheers as he approaches the lannister stand, approaching the lady lucretia and speaking in hushsed tones as he requests  her  favour. the lady lucretia herself held little gentleness in her gaze as she considered him before she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

elowyn  harlaw :  requests  the  favour  of  her sister, the lady gysella lannister, in an act of blood over bond. lady gysella asked the younger show the crowds what a harlaw is made of as she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

shyra  hornwood :  requests  the  favour  of  liege naerys paege, claiming their camaraderie will bring them strength upon the field. naerys pressed a hand upon their heart, speaking of camaraderie to victory, before they   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

dantae  dagareon :  requests  the  favour  of  his sister, the princess malaya - stating he would like to see that each of his sisters have a crown. with a smile, the princess malaya  𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

amos  tully :  with some bravado requests  the  favour  of  his lady wife in both her name and that of their unborn child. the lady syrena, despite placing some jest - filled conditions,   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

theodore  baratheon:  sparks some whispers among the crowd, along with the narrowed gaze of her grace, as he rides not to the royal stand but the liege arwyn mallister and requests their favour. the stands were silent as they waited - until finally liege arwyn   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

antony  arryn :  brought whispers to the crowd as he approached the lady rhaenys, seemingly about to request her favour, before requesting  the  favour  of  his own wife. with some pause, the lady adrienne   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

daeron  targaryen:  requests  the  favour  of  the lady laina. she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

arya  stark:  requests  the  favour  of  her brother, the lord martyn stark, claiming she hoped his support would see her steal a victory over their elder brother. lord martyn happily  𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

anika  moraqos:  was late in requesting  the  favour  of  the princess malaya, for their favour had already been granted.   𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗

victarion  greyjoy:  requests  the  favour  of  his good sister, sylaisha of pyke, drawing muttering throughout the crowd for the fear of seeing a lowborn as their queen of love and beauty. as the crowd grew rowdier, sylaisha   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

otto  beesbury:  following the slight of the queen in the case of her lord commander, lord beesbury - a lord of eight and twenty name days with bronzed skin and dark curls - approached queen rhaena with head bowed and act of devotion prepared as he swore his sword to her, claiming that none among the crowds was so deserving of the title as she. the queen considered this lord with interest, for how he charmed her so. nodding in approval, and sending one of her ladies to place a laurel wreath upon the lord's lance, her grace   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

jocelyn  dondarrion:  requests  the  favour  of  her long-time betrothed, the lady olyvya dalt, on the grounds that should she win - she'd see them married in the fortnight. her beloved only laughed as she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

otto  serrett:  the  lord  takes  this  as  his  chance  to  profess  his  affections  for  the  lady  sofya  as  he  asks  for  her  favour,  claiming  to  have  loved  her  from  the  first  moment  he'd  laid  eyes  upon  her  and  that  he  would  be  lost  without  her.  after  a  few  moments  of  awkward  silence,  the  lady  sofya  quietly    𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗

altan manwoody:  nearly falling off his horse before the matches have yet begun, lord manwoody is thick with drink as he approaches not his wife, but his long - rumoured lover, before calling even her by the wrong name as he demands her favour. needless to say, without a second thought she     𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗

baris  tarth:  grits his teeth at the actions passed, and halts before his lady wife - the lady rhaenys - requesting  her  favour  with words of adoration. the lady rhaenys claimed none to be more deserving of her favour as she   𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗

[kg-clark-inthedark]

Corvo's last travel log entry in Dishonored 2 breaks my heart every time:

"Dunwall. My other home. Full of memories, now tainted by someone else's power fantasies.

I can't wait to give Delilah her nasty spirit back and be done with it. I still don't know how much of what she claims is falsehood.

It's true that she has some of Jessamine’s traits. It hurts to admit that because I don't want to see Jessamine in anyone, except Emily. And I see so much of Jessamine in our daughter. Not only physical resemblances. The sad frown when someone tells a mean joke. The sweet smirk to Wyman during the council meeting, when she thinks nobody's watching. The sharpness in her eyes when she argues with natural philosophers twice her age.

I want to bring that light back into her eyes, undo Delilah's darkness. How many times did Emily tell me she wasn't a porcelain doll, when we were training? Always asking for more, smiling at the bruises and scratches. I want to watch her press the attack again, screaming at me in exhilaration. I want her to be alive again. My little girl."

Corvo, all these years later, is still in mourning. He seems to go through the events of Dishonored 2, not to regain the Empire, but to regain what is left of his small, broken family. He's exhausted, weighed down by regrets, and full of anger, but he presses on for his daughter. Despite all of the tragedy and suffering of 15 years ago, Corvo still sees Dunwall as his other home because that's where all his memories with his loved ones have taken place. He sees so much of Emily's mother in her, but also sees himself as well. His main motivation throughout all of his hardship, it seems, is love.

Idk man he's just like...a really good dad :'(

[saintgoths]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

CHAPTER TWO - GODS AND GODDESSES.

WORDS - 3,933.

RATING - G+.

SUMMARY - when the institute finds Serena suspicious, Jessamine and Will try to figure out who she is.

"Hold me and love me, Just wanna touch you for a minute." - Love Game by Lady Gaga.

feedback would be appreciated!

i also cross-post this fic on wattpad and ao3.

previous chapter - chapter one.

During her trip back to the institute Serena had attempted to think of many things to cheer herself up, yet none of them had worked, before she left the Sapphire mansion the Venrosa woman understood that her early depart would have people question since the gathering had been held mostly due to her and her losses. It had also made Serena aware that there might be some whispers of disapprove as she hadn’t greeted the organiser of the event, Lyonel, but there were future days ahead when Serena could thank him for his kind gesture.

After Thomas had aided Serena out of the carriage, the curly-haired girl was tempted to walk past Charlotte and aim for her room, though Charlotte had also noted that she had returned early and called for her, and with her lips pressed into a thin line, Serena turned on her feet and faced the leader of the institute who had been accompanied by a man.

“You’re back early,” Charlotte noted and awkward, Serena glanced at the man who had oddly examined her before he expressed a look of satisfaction which had Serena internally curl up into a ball.

“I didn’t feel well,” Serena answered and empathetic, Charlotte politely beckoned her head before she gently pointed towards the man who stood beside her.

“Serena, meet Sir. Mortmain, Mortmain, meet Serena Venrosa, the newest member of the Institute,” Charlotte kindly introduced and inspective, the man had taken one more look at her and so did Serena.

Serena took in that he was a short, middle-aged man with greying sideburns, features that were narrow and grey eyes that were light.

“Shadowhunter?” Mortmain questioned and instinctively, Charlotte shook her head as she gently held her hands together.

“No, Serena is someone who has the Sight, Serena comes from a noble family,” Charlotte lied and slightly humoured, Serena bit the inside of her cheek while Mortmain politely pulled out his hand for her to shake.

Silent, Serena gathered the energy to shake his hand while he kindly greeted her, but the moment Serena found it appropriate to leave she took it and while she had walked away, she had heard them continue to speak about a subject that included the topic “Pyxis”, though Serena hadn’t cared about it.

She had returned to her room and began to unpack the commodities Lady Evaline had dropped off the day before, one of them had included her painting tools and when she had finished taking them out, she had begun to sketch out the idea she had wanted to paint, unaware of what she had been doing and had allowed her hand to work out the concept her soul had wanted.

Time had passed, and only the pattern of knocks against her door had helped return Serena back into reality, and surprised with how unaware of the reality she had been in, the dark-haired girl had put down her painting tools and allowed whoever who stood behind her bedroom door to come in.

Though as she took one more glance at her piece, she had noted it had reminded her of something she couldn’t put her finger on. “Painting?” Jessamine commented, “how boring.”

With her nose scrunched, Serena had looked Jessamine up and down before she had noticed that Tessa had stood next to the blond woman. The Venrosa woman had identified that they must’ve came back from their shopping spree as they had bags they had each held onto. “Is there a reason why you’re disrupting me?” Serena inquired and with her left hand against her hips, Jessamine arched her eyebrow aware of the judgemental look the new woman had carried.

“Do you want to hang out with us?” Jessamine asked.

“I’ll think about it,” Serena answered, “if there’s no Jessamine, I’ll accept the offer.”

Tessa laughed which had caused Jessamine to click her tongue. “I finally have girls to hang around, please,” Jessamine dryly pleaded and with her lips gently puckered Serena quickly thought about it and stood to her feet which had caused Jessamine to force a smile, and while the three women walked out of Serena’s room, they had made way to Jessamine’s bedroom which had a really feminine touch.

“Your room is lovely,” Tessa complimented.

“It’s much too small,” Jessamine replied, and as Serena lightly glanced over the bedroom, she had reticently agreed that it was well kept.

As the three girls sat down, both Serena and Tessa couldn’t help but notice the doll house on a high table. Jessamine had touched it and revealed the inside of the Dollhouse that revealed the beautiful tiny rooms that were perfectly decorated, “this was my house,” Jessamine said.

“You mean this was the dollhouse you had when you were a little girl?” Tessa asked.

“No,” Jessamine sounded irritated, and Serena stopped herself from laughing but Tessa could hear the slight giggle. “This was my house, my father had this made for me when I was six. It’s modelled exactly on the house we lived in, on Curzon Street. This was the wallpaper we had in the dining room,” she pointed, “and those are exactly the chairs in my father’s study. You see.”

Quietly, Serena had examined the décor with Tessa, as Jessamine continued to speak about it. “They died in a fire, my family,” Jessamine said, and surprised in the similarity they shared, Serena perked both of her eyebrows.

“Mine did too,” Serena said and intrigued, Jessamine turned to look at the dark-haired girl.

“By who?” The blond asked.

“By bad people,” Serena shrugged, and instantly, Tessa and Jessamine stood up, curious to hear of her backstory, there had barely been intel about the Venrosa woman, so they had found this time vital. “There used to be over seven of us in our big home.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tessa apologised and kindly, Serena shrugged her shoulders as she politely thanked her. “To lose everything so quickly.”

“It’s okay,” Serena whispered and gently relieved to have this side of her story revealed, Serena had softly leaned against the bedroom walls and continued to foretell her story but had left out any important commodity that could reveal what she was.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Out of all people to walk into, Will Herondale was the last person Serena had wanted to see as she made way to return to her room, she hadn’t said anything and attempted to shuffle through her door, but alas he had opened his mouth. “Serena,” he smiled and with her lips tucked behind her teeth, she gently bit them down in annoyance before she looked at him. “You’re back early.”

She hadn’t said anything to him as she re-attempted to leave to her room. “You’re being impolite,” he mentioned, “the painting in your room is interesting.”

With her face twisted, Serena eventually spoke. “Weirdo.”

Satisfied, that he had been able to push her to speak, the Herondale boy laughed. “Oh, so you do speak?” He taunted before his eyes lingered back into her room. “So, is that what happened?” He asked, suggestive about her painting.

Suddenly, aware of what she painted, Serena felt a pang in her heart, avoidant to telling him. “You’re a creep for entering my room without my consent.”

“Correction, I closed your door since you left it slightly open,” Will smiled.

Embarrassed, Serena crossed her arms and finally entered her room. “People who have the Sight usually serve Shadowhunters.”

“I don’t serve Shadowhunters,” Serena snapped.

“There’s numerous of ways you can serve me,” Will smirked and as kickback, Serena gagged.

“I’d rather die,” she mentioned and humoured, Will laughed as she slammed the door in his face.

As she returned to her seat that had been in front of her painting, she had dipped her paintbrush wet with the water that had been mixed with excess previous oil paint that she had used his morning, stuck, Serena’s hand had gently been lifted, eyes focused on the unfinished creation of the bodies that had been perfectly detailed, but the faces, untouched.

Stressed, Serena had put the paint brush down and gently pressed her hands against her face before she took in one deep breath.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

It had been supper and Serena had found Tessa walking down the corridor that had led down to the dining room, Serena had been silent but Tessa on the other hand, had been glad to find the Venrosa woman before anyone else did. “I’m thankful I didn’t get lost,” Tessa dryly joked and as Serena pushed herself to smile at what Tessa had said, the darker haired woman continued to fiddle with her fingers, lost in her thoughts.

Observant, Tessa neared herself to the curly-haired woman, curious of her train of thoughts. “If there’s anything you want to talk about,” Tessa encouraged, “I know how it feels to lose family, but I cannot fathom the feeling of losing them all.”

“If you need someone to talk to,” Tessa then said, “I’ll always be open.”

Appreciative, Serena’s doe eyes had turned to examine Tessa, shortly silent till she spoke, Serena eventually pulled her fingers away from each other. “I’m fine, I’ll be speaking to Lady Evaline through letters anyways.”

As Tessa pursed her lips into a thin line, the two entered the dining room, Jem had politely greeted the girls who took themselves to sit down, Tessa now engaged in a conversation with Jem had left Serena to once more play with her food like last time, everyone’s brief circumstance interrupted by Jessamine who had slammed her fork down onto the table.

“Charlotte!” She shrieked, “make Will leave me alone.”

Will, who had leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes had glittered in mischief. “If she’d say why she has blood on her clothes, I would leave her alone. Let me guess, Jessie. You ran across some poor woman in the park who had the misfortune of wearing a gown that clashed with yours, so you slit her throat with that clever little parasol of yours. Do I have it right?”

Jessamine bared her teeth at him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“You are, you know,” Charlotte said.

“I mean I’m wearing blue. Blue goes with everything,” Jessamine went on. “Which really, you ought to know. You’re vain enough about your own clothes.”

“Blue does not go with everything---” Will said before he got cut off by Jessamine.

“Anyways, how was the ball?” Jessamine asked Serena.

“I heard it had a bunch of Shadowhunters there, but the ones we don’t properly know weren’t,” Will said.

Silent, Serena had barely looked up at them. “Plus, since you’re not a Shadowhunter, why were you invited to the ball?” Jessamine investigated. “How comes the rest of us didn’t hear of it?”

“I’m surprised you’d want to go to a Shadowhunter Ball,” Will said and as kick back Jessamine had thrown a glare his way.

“It was for noble families,“ Charlotte interfered, “not all of them were Shadowhunters.”

“Were some of them Downworlders?” Tessa asked and finally, Serena had looked up at the American girl, open to speak.

“No,” Serena replied. “Just some Shadowhunters and some people with the Sight.”

Intrigued, Jessamine gently pulled herself closer. “Were the Salvatore siblings there?” Jessamine asked, the Salvatore family were a respected family who had the Sight run in their family for a long time, before they became a noble family, they used to be servants for Shadowhunters in Venus, specifically in the Adonis Institute.

Serena knows that the Salvatore family normally say they’re from Italy, specifically Venice as an inside joke. “I didn’t get the chance to see them at the ball,” Serena said, “and that’s enough about me,” she muttered before she forced down some of the hot food in her mouth.

The rest of them had resumed to speak with one another but Jessamine had remained her attention on Serena while the others began to speak about Tessa’s necklace. “Why are your family noble?” Jessamine asked and as Serena gently cursed in her head, the long-haired girl had sat up, comprehensive that she wouldn’t be able to be left alone as long as they had seen her as the new golden object.

With a fake smile plastered on her face, Serena turned to look at Jessamine. “My family were a founding family for a political house.”

“What political house?” Jessamine asked.

Annoyed, Serena furrowed her eyebrows. “That’s enough,” she said and blowed, Jessamine dropped her shoulders.

“Your clothes and jewellery are nice,” the blonde girl said. “I can’t say the same for Tessa’s old clothes,” she muttered and observant, Jessamine’s eyes landed on Tessa’s necklace. “My eyes hurt whenever I see that ugly trinket,” she gagged and unamused, Serena resumed to play with her food. “At least laugh,” Jessamine scowled and sarcastic, Serena flipped her face to look at her and put on a clear fake smile which made the scowl on Jessamine’s face deepen.

Charlotte, who Serena didn’t even realise had left, had returned to the dining room, in the doorway, attention on Tessa. “There is someone here who wants to speak with you, Tessa.”

“With me?” Tessa demanded.

“Well, who is it?” Will said. “Must you keep us all in suspense?”

Charlotte had then sighed. “It’s Lady Belcourt. She’s downstairs. In the Sanctuary Room.”

 ♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Exhausted, Charlotte had sat down with Lady Evaline and Serena in the drawing room, it had been late but Charlotte had enough energy to sit through the upcoming conversation between the three of them. “Thank you for taking in Serena,” Evaline thanked.

“Serena is a pleasant lady, isn’t unpleasant like Will or Jessamine,” Charlotte muttered and humoured, they had all smiled in sync.

Before Lady Evaline had said anything else, she had turned to the door, paranoid. “Serena did you put the protection barrier so no one could hear us?” Evaline questioned and surprised, Serena jumped to her feet and strode towards the wall, hands against it, a low vibration emitted from her hands and a transparent purplish-red hue flowed out of her hands and covered the walls.

Intrigued, Charlotte sat up as she watched the magic seep into the walls, making it sound proof. There had been light runes on the wall due to Serena’s Venusian magic and Charlotte’s eyes had blinked intrigued. “I’ve never seen a Venusian Spirit use their powers before.”

“I’m confused,” she had then said, “I’m surprised how they’re not under the Downworlder umbrella.”

As she gently huffed, Serena returned to sit on her seat. “Because someone isn’t a Shadowhunter and has powers, it doesn’t mean they’re a Downworlder,” Serena corrected.

“Serena can be a Shadowhunter if she wanted to,” Lady Evaline said. “Venusians are children of Aphrodite, meaning there’s no demon blood inside of them.”

“I remember that,” Charlotte muttered, “forgive me,” she told them. “Knowledge on Venusians and Venusian Spirits are restricted and limited, so my apologies for my lack of knowledge.”

“That’s fine,” Serena shrugged as she had then picked up her tea that Sophie brewed.

The younger girl had then turned her attention to Lady Evaline who said her arrival was important. “Though, what I am here for, is that your current situation can expose what you are to the Institutes of the Mortal Realm.”

It was bound to happen, the longer Venusians visit the Mortal Realm due to Serena, the more the Clave would ponder the circumstance. “With your entire family gone, there’s no one who sits for House Venrosa in the Court of Aphrodite,” Evaline said and hesitant, Serena automatically licked her lips.

“Will she have to marry?” Charlotte questioned and in response, Evaline slightly chuckled.

“For Venusian women, rules are more liberating compared to the Mortal Realm,” Evaline replied, “Women do not have to marry to become a leader,” and when Evaline said that she could see a flash of emotion in Charlotte’s eyes and as kickback, Evaline pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Yet because I’m an orphan and unmarried, marriage proposals will come for me,” Serena said, “they’ll want to marry me because of what I am, and because of my power, status and money.”

Intrigued, Charlotte nodded her head before she turned to face Lady Evaline. “There are those who want you back in Venus, but they understand your situation with the Rosehunters,” Rosehunters, beings who dedicated their lives on finding and killing Venusian Spirits with a special weapon that could bring harm to them. “Ever since you moved to the Mortal Realm, the Court of Aphrodite will move here, temporarily.”

“Who is Serena to them?” Charlotte inquired, curious to why a young woman would have an entire court travel a realm for meetings.

“My family,” Serena coughed as she gently returned Charlotte’s attention to her. “My family in Venus had Venusian Spirits occur the most compared to others, people in Venus believe that someone down my family line might’ve been a close blood progeny of Aphrodite,” the dark-haired girl explained and surprised, Charlotte smoothly bucked her head.

“Making you a direct descendant of Aphrodite,” she hummed and in approval, Serena clicked her tongue. “Do you believe that?” The blonde woman asked and as kickback, Serena shook her head.

“No,” Serena said.

As she gently traced her thumb around the outer ring of her cup, Serena stared at her hotly brewed tea. “I just think Goddess Aphrodite favoured my family because of the strong faith we had in her for many years.”

“Let’s hope this situation doesn’t make you lose your faith in her,” Lady Evaline said and sapped, Serena shrugged her shoulders.

Thus, quietness had become a storm in the room for a moment, both older women curious to know if she still had faith. “I wonder if she actually favoured us, with the way my family just went,” Serena spoke, “and why she made us Venusian Spirits so vulnerable to the---”

“Your seat in the Court of Aphrodite,” Lady Evaline coughed as she purposely moved the subject. “Some families will temporarily move to London because of you, some of the families including the Laurents and the Salvatores.”

The Venrosa chair had been the main seat of the Court of Aphrodite for decades, and anything of the political setting could not progress without Serena’s say. Lady Evaline who had also had a seat in the court as she had belonged to the political house of House Raye, had been an important asset to the council, they were some sort of the second hand of House Venrosa.

“There’ll be a meeting tomorrow, mainly about the Rosehunters and how to find them,” Evaline said.

“And there’s some Shadowhunters in the court of Aphrodite, if I stand, correct?” Charlotte asked.

“Many,” Serena said.

“The Enclave should know about this at least,” Charlotte said as she had furrowed her eyebrows.

“If that happens, you’d have to reveal what Serena is, putting her in danger,” Lady Evaline reminded and slightly stressed, Charlotte had sighed.

Empathetic, Serena leaned forward. “If the circumstance wasn’t like this, I would’ve agreed to reveal myself, but the Rosehunters, we have to be sure of them.”

“Is it true?” Charlotte questioned and startled, Evaline and Serena briskly exchanged looks as they hastily understood what she had meant.

“Yes,” Serena responded. “That’s why I’m being hunted.”

Focused, Charlotte leaned against her chair as the conversation between the trio resumed, and when the private conversation finished, Lady Evaline had directed herself towards the door with Charlotte trailing behind her, and when the older woman pushed the door open, two recognisable men had fell through the door, caught red-handed, Will had instantly jumped to his feet.

“We couldn’t hear anything,” he mumbled and awkwardly, Charlotte passed Lady Evaline a short smile before she hushedly apologised for the boys behaviour.

Ere the foreign lady left, she had reminded Serena to not forget about sending letters and with a grateful urgency to go sleep, Serena gently reassured Evaline that letters would soon come her way.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

It had been the next day and Will Herondale had been tasked to teach Tessa on how to behave and co-operate similar to Camille Belcourt for one of their up-coming missions, though the Herondale boy had been early to the library and had been able to catch Serena who had quietly read a thin book in one of the room’s corners.

Serena had been aware of Will’s presence, as she could sense his arrival before he entered the room, still, her eyes had not left the pages which she had possessively held against her skin. Curious to see what she had been reading, the dark-haired boy couldn’t help but snort once he noticed what it had been.

“You’re interested in Greek Mythology?” He had asked and humoured, Serena pushed both of her eyebrows upwards as she looked up at him.

“You mean Greek Lore?” She corrected before her orbs fell back onto the words. “You people think you have everything correct about the Gods and Goddesses,” she silently muttered, though her words coherent enough for Will to comprehend what she had said.

Intrigued, Will pulled himself closer to her. “Do you know more than us?” Will asked and reticent, Serena bounced her shoulders.

She continued to skim through the text, her eyebrows currently furrowed and expression perplexed. She had currently read through content allegedly about Aphrodite and every time her eyes scanned lower down the book, the more she had felt offended. She had thought it to be blasphemous and while she had attempted to drown herself in disdain, she had once more been interrupted by the Herondale boy.

“I asked you a question,” he reminded and annoyed, Serena looked at him and returned to read. “You don’t feel, Human,” he said.

“Oh?” Serena hummed, curious to his explanation, she had then closed the book she had currently read and placed it against her lap. “What does I feel like?” She had asked an in a moment of ponder, Will remained silent.

Though, during the process, he had found his fingers softly grab a lock of her hair. “I don’t know yet,” he replied as he gently stroked the soft locks of her hair, gently taking in her sweet and rich scent, “but I know you’d feel good.”

She had paused for a moment before she quickly grabbed her hair from him, her pretty face now full with bitterness. “I’ll never sleep with you!” She snapped and as he had fake pouted, Serena had then pushed the book she had held back to where it belonged. “I don’t even like you to give anything of myself to you!”

“What is there to not like about me?” He asked.

“First, the way you treat people,” Serena began, “women specifically,” and as kickback, Will’s face twisted.

Though, before he could say anything, Jem had entered the room, a kind soul breaking the rising tension between the two of them. “Hello,” Serena greeted and taken aback, Jem’s face was pulled positively.

“That was the first time you had ever greeted me,” he smiled.

“There’s a first for everything,” she said.

“Are you going to stay and watch Tessa learn how to be like Lady Belcourt?” He asked.

“No,” Serena quickly responded, she had wanted to leave the library and get her beauty nap since it was the day she’d meet with the court. “I need to sleep for today.”

Curious, Jem had aided Serena on opening the door. “Where are you going?” The white-haired boy asked and private, Serena bounced her shoulders.

“A meeting, goodbye now,” she bid ere she quickly stalked out of the room.

masterlist

song referenced

[magentagalaxies]

buddy cole doc moment of the day: had to call scott to discuss plans for me going on tour with him to film for the documentary. i ended up just getting his answering machine which is fine bc i could just leave a message like hi it's jessamine call me back when you get the chance to discuss plans for the tour and doc and stuff i'm on winter break so i'm always around and by the end i was like ok jess good message. but then i was like

oh shit

i don't remember how to end an answering machine recording

so long story short waiting in scott's answering machine inbox is a message that's 50% "hi it's jessamine call me back when you get the chance" and 50% "oh shit i've said everything i was going to say how do i stop this recording i've never had to leave an answering machine message before scott-" before eventually i just remembered to press one

anyway i hope scott thompson finds my gen z inability to leave an answering machine message funny and roasts me about it when he calls me back as i deserve

[carnalapples]

WIP Wednesday

A few people tagged me a while back when I didn’t have much to share, but I’ve been working on a potential Dishonored fic this week!

//

He’s leaned up against a wall, but it barely comes up to his waist. He’s already lanky, strung out, before the weight of adulthood has caught up to him.

“Do you need something, ma’am?”

She nearly drops her pocketbook, her stomach jolting at the sight of the spidery veins on her hands. She looks up into his face, open, kind. One thing he never lost. Won’t lose?

“No,” she says. She shakes her head to underscore this, half certain her voice won’t obey her. She has questions. She wants to ask them all, about his sister, his hobbies, what he fills each day with, but his brow is already creasing in that skeptical worry of adolescence, the look any kid gets when an adult takes too much of an interest in their life, reserved caution. 

He’s walking away. And because Jessamine finally has some space to make questionable decisions, she follows him through the wide streets of Karnaca. She has distant impressions of this place, of dust settling in crevices and folds, lungs thickened with it. Whale blood running thin and wet over the stones. Sticky footprints ringed with silver. But there’s none of that here: it is cleaner than she remembers, crisper. 

His home is in a tall, solid building, and she loiters outside the third-floor corridor. There’s a girl, even taller than him. Same thick, dark hair made slick by the humid heat. She’s smoking a cigarette, curls of smoke drifting out to where Jessamine lies, pressing herself against the wall. He frowns and whacks her hand lightly. Ash filters down to the ground. 

He must be fourteen, fifteen, she thinks. Thoughts of the tournament will already be in his head. He and his sister walk inside, and the clack of a sewing machine slows and stops. 

Jessamine leans her head up against the wall and she closes her eyes. She listens to the warm Serkonan accent, round and full before it was flattened by the sounds of Dunwall, to mother and daughter and son teasing each other. She has no sense of how much time has passed and how much remains. She lets the memory round out, this fullness of a life without her. Before any of them knew how much there was to lose.

//

Open tag: if you have something you'd like to share, please do!!

[rosedragonblast]

AU sketch

This is a bit of a sketch for an upcoming fic. This AU includes several different aspects. One of them includes Jessamine being alive. Daud has a direwolf named Pandyssia, whom he saved from the streets. Other aspects might be posted in a separate post. Enjoy X)

Pandyssia walks into the office, casually finding her place at Daud's feet. He almost finishes with his job, so he lets himself pet her. The direwolf huffs and lays down, putting her head on her own paws. She twitches a little when she hears a distant sound. But, upon analysing the smell through several sniffs, she relaxes and comes back down. It calms Daud a bit as well. If she knows who it coming in this direction, it's okay to let the guard down. And indeed, it is. Corvo, sliding through a slightly open door, stops and waves a bit, showing his teeth with a smile.

— I thought it must have been someone familiar, — Daud looks at Attano briefly, while attending to the document seconds later. — Come in. I'm almost finished.

— Panda warned you, didn't she? — Corvo smiles and notices wolf's body sticking out from under the table. — Hey pretty girl. How are you?

Pandyssia yawns and stretches, answering with a quiet whine and a howl. Corvo reaches out and ruffles her fur. She bites him slightly in response.

— Do you look out for Daud how i asked you to? Good.

Corvo laughs quietly and comes closer to Daud. He looks at movements of Daud's hands. How he picks up and signs papers. How he whispers to himself, reading the text. Corvo leans in hust when Daud puts the feather in it's place, as to not to make Daud spill the ink all over the table. 

— Corvo. 

— Mmm?

Attano doesn't hesitate, starting from Daud's neck. He massages slowly, releasing the tension. Daud almost succeeds in containing a moan, but it still escapes his lips. Corvo huffs and continues down, squeezing shoulders. Royal protector leans further, kissing Daud on the cheek.

— Are we gonna go to bed?

— Would be the best thing ever. 

— Especially considering that Jess gave us a day off...

— What do you mean by that? — Daud looks up at his lovers' face, 

— She said that we worked a bit too hard on the last case. So, she said that she will spend time with Emily, while we can have all the time to ourselves. You do know what this means, right? At least, for this night. 

Daud laughs, letting Corvo kiss his lips. They exchange a soft, slow, yet romantic kiss, holding onto each other. Panda growls slightly. She doesn't like when humans ignore her. 

— Okay, okay. We're going. 

They leave the room, following the direwolf up the stairs. She goes to Daud's bedroom, while men slip into Corvo's chambers. He doesn't really wait until Daud turns around, pressing him against the wall. 

— You impatient bastard. 

— You love me for it. 

Daud can't really complain. Especially when Corvo already starts to tale his pants off.  

[diodellet]

*slides in*

🍄, 🖍, 🤔and ❤️ for the WIP ask game (and if you'd rather not do that many at once then feel free to take your pick, tho the heart is non-refundable I'm afraid).

hellow ner!! thanks for sending one in! (i swear my wips folder keeps growing new wips like bacteria. it's crazy tryna control the writing inspo)

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Diasomnia Student!Reader + Jamil's Superiority-Inferiority Complex = Inappropriate Use of Snake Whisper

(sadly i only have the premise, there's no actual writing i can show yet. once i find the spoons to.... i will write noncon hypno as was intended)

🖍Post any sentence from your wip

"Before you can breeze past him, Jamil grabs the back of your blazer, spins you around to press a hand against your forehead."

Aheh... this is from another wip i have named "chicken soup for the transmigrated soul," it'll be a platonic sick fic headcanons post featuring the vice rizzwardens ++ortho and ruggie

🤔What's a story you'd love to write but haven't even started yet?

So, since last year i've been toying with the idea of writing a reader insert longfic with the octatrio? The sirens have finally got me help im being dragged into the sea take me back to the suspicious snemk man

Where: you are an albatross beastman and become the mostro lounge's first ever uber eats deliveryperson. ++ you and the octatrio are all somewhere on the grayspec (idk theres smth very qpp about their relationship w/ eo.)

(ive been incessant and infodumping ab this fic to @/jessamine-rose oopsie poopsie) but alksdjflks id like to finish wcidfy first before i start another longfic. also learning to write three new charas is a lil intimidating to me, esp ones with a fanbase as big as the octavinelle peeps* (at least i can say i have some practice wid those 2 azul drabbles?)

(send an emoji and get some info abt one of my wips?)

[monsterthalia]

WIP Whenever

@theluckywizard tagged me to share part of a WIP (thank you!) so this seems as good as time as any to share part of a Dragon Age Inquisition fic I've been noodling away on whilst having Covid.

I don't have a list of people to tag, but if you have a WIP, please consider this your prompt to share it if you wish.

Isidore and Jessamine Trevelyan are twins. Jess is a mage, sent off to the Circle as a child, whilst Iz was promised to the Templars once he came of age - plans that went up in smoke when the Mage/Templar war began. When both end up at the Conclave, it's a reunion neither of them want - nor does it go how they might expect.

---

He grabbed her elbow, not gently, and pulled her away from the crowd. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she shot back at him, snatching back her elbow and clutching it.

“I asked first!” he snapped, and immediately flushed with embarrassment, even before she rolled her eyes. 

“Real mature, Iz-”

“I’m here as guard for the Ostwick Chantry delegation. Let me guess, you’re here with your rebel chums? Planning to stir up trouble?”

She just flashed a grin, that smug grin she’d had since she was a smug little five-year-old. For a moment, he could see the pigtails. “Doubt they’ll need my help.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. A sharp pain was already starting up behind his eyes. “Jess - this is serious - it IS,” he added, more firmly, as she just snorted. “The Divine is here-”

She snorted again. “Sure, so she can wring her hands and say how she did all she could before declaring an Exalted March.”

“Only if the mages won’t be reasonable!” he snapped, “They’ve been offered terms over and over-”

“The terms are bullshit and you know it!” she shot back, “Or you would if you weren’t so lost up your own arse. Do you want them to lock me back up in a Circle?”

“That’s - I d- I don’t -” He was struggling for words, for breath, and his heart was racing. Dammit, not now, not now. Words felt impossible, tangling in his tongue. His breaths became tight, lungs clamped in obsidian, and heat flushed across his face even as his clenched fists felt cold. And Jessamine just watched him, aloof and uncaring, her face like he was a nug rolling in its own shit.

“I’m going to save you some trouble,” she sneered, “If your answer wasn’t just ‘Of course not, dear sister’, then I have nothing to say to you. Tell Mother I said hello. Tell Father I said ‘go fuck yourself’.”

She turned on her heel and strode off down the nearest empty corridor. Isidore stared after her, still frozen as he struggled for a clear breath.

“Hey, that area’s off limits!” he heard someone nearby call after her. A Grey Warden? Just their luck if she managed to piss them off as well. 

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go get her,” he called back, then took off down the corridor after her. He heard the Grey Warden shout something, but ignored it as Jessamine picked up the pace ahead of him, having to break into a run to catch up with her.

He came level with her just as she approached a pair of double doors. “Leave me alone!” she snapped at him, and he was astonished to see that her eyes were actually bright, full of tears.

He didn’t have time to decipher if she was genuinely upset over their encounter or just having a tantrum. He took her elbow again, gentler this time. “Jess, come on, we’re not allowed down here. We need to get back to-”

“I said leave me alone!” she shouted, ripping her elbow from him and shoving open the doors-

And that was the last thing he remembered.

----

[beyondtheciouds]

The ride was still long, with hours to go, and Kit was already grouchy. He had not said a word since they'd left the small, untidy diner an hour ago. The buttery food and stagnant service needed to be corrected, leaving the teenagers hungry and aggravated. The entire trip had been a total flop, and Dru hoped the night would improve.

The road seemed to open before them, and Kit sensed the imitation of freedom as his sneaker pressed harder on the gas pedal of the identical twin to Dru's Camaro, pushing the mph to 70. He shifted gears, his hand feeling the weight of his burdens change; he felt as if he were floating along with the wind between the rusted metal of the t-tops instead of rooted to the ripped and stained pleather seat.

Headlights of passing cars were few and far between; nature's night sounds echoed along the road as Kit chased the crescent moon. Half-empty fields, crooked sheds, and tiny farms littered the old highway, and he dreamed of ghosts as he cranked the radio up.

"How long til we get to London?" Dru asked, her wild dark hair billowing in the wind. Her hand rested on her knee, black nails digging into the fabric, and for a chilling moment, he considered turning down one of the many dirt roads.

He let the question sit for the duration of the song as his hands became a battery against the wheel to the beat of the drums, spitting his longing like the latest solo from the blown speakers. The car was more admirable than Drusilla's box on wheels, so Kit didn't mind being the driver or in control.

They had been summoned to the London Insitute by some distant relative of Kit's to learn about their histories. The goal was to discover the past where the Herondales and Blackthorns had collided and fit together like jigsaw pieces in the Nephilim community family tree.

Their plan had been to find out the truth to the tale of Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn. Whether or not she used the dark art of necromancy and how that played into the roles of their bloodlines. History lesson.

What that knowledge would do, Kit had yet to figure out. He was sure he would be haunted eventually, and Tessa had playfully warned him about Jessamine.

"Should be there in a few hours." Kit finally said, his voice pitching as he turned the radio dial down, and the song brutally ended. He glanced over at her, his bushy blonde brows furrowed. "You getting tired? Should we stop for a bit?"

Dru closed her eyes, her hands moving, fingers roaming the fabric of her torn jeans and the hem of her leather jacket as if the movements alone might keep her awake. An unpleasant hum tuned her veins, turning her mind to slush and her body to mush. She had taken the last of her anxiety medication at the diner with her chipped cup of half-decent black coffee. Now, she felt drowsy as the drug did its magic on a nearly empty stomach.

"Mmm. Maybe we should find a motel."

[bookcoversonly]

Title: Yellow Jessamine | Author: Caitlin Starling | Publisher: Neon Hemlock Press (2020)