#marching milde

[redcallisto]

Every few months I have to go and draw my faves as if they're posing for a magazine cover

[goodfish-bowl]

Tucker: Hey man… I don’t think you dodged that last knife as well as you think you did…

Danny:

Happy International Get Stabbed Day!

[slyandthefamilybook]

every single "does x belong at pride" poll should include a qualifier about whether or not you've ever actually been to a pride march

[reyofluke-ocs]

OCs DESERVE BETTER -> Claudette Henderson (Stranger Things) FC: Katie Douglas "Look, if it was my brother... there's nothing in heaven or hell that would stop me from getting him back. So, you have my help - if you want it."

The older sister of Dustin Henderson, Claudette is like your average small-town girl-next-door: pretty, decently popular, cheerleader, good grades. Born with mild cerebral palsy, she has always been determined to not let her disability define her. Sure, she knows there are peers - even among her fellow cheerleaders - that laugh about her and talk about her behind her back, but she ignores it for the most part. Besides, she knows as soon as she graduates, she will be heading for university and leave the town of Hawkins behind except for visits to her mother and younger brother.

Then Will Byers go missing and Claudette finds herself joining Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler - two people who she only really knows through their younger brothers' friendship - in uncovering what really happened to Will and finding him if possible. Between discovering the existence of monsters and that the government is shady as hell, Claudette begins to think whatever is happening goes far deeper than anyone could imagine.

tagging: @endless-oc-creations@stanshollaand, @foxesandmagic , @hiddenqveendom , @arrthurpendragon , @cas-verse, @eddiemunscns , @far-shores, @oneirataxia-girl, if anyone wants to be added/removed or I accidentally forgot, please let me know!

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

Not Olric's favourite item being rock for his birthday 🤡

[hauntedpotat]

WE DID THE HILL A DAY EARLY

HELP

For context at band camp there's a really steep hill and when we march on the streets we go up and then down said hill, while playing etc

I'm not kidding it's probably a 70 degree angle and I know math stuff

I hate it so much because I have snare drum and I can't lift my knees very far without hitting the bottom of the drum so the entire percussion section is just struggling for like 30 feet

[johnschneiderblog]

Payback

During that unseasonably balmy weather we enjoyed earlier this month - the weather that inspired me to pull out our driveway markers and put the snowblower in mothballs - I heard it said a dozen times: We'll pay for this.

Meaning, of course, that, in the course of 365 days, it's the natural order for Michiganders to suffer a given amount of miserable weather. No exceptions.

So, if a string of sunshine comes our way in early March, you can be sure its counterpart - a late-March snowstorm, say - will step in to even things out .

That's the way we think up here - even the non-Catholics.

Well, the bill is arriving as I write this. Snow is falling and some predictions say we'll have have 5 inches before it's over.

[actress4him]

Stabmas 2024 - The Shadow of Death - Cinderella AU

It's the second annual celebration of Stabmas, hosted by the Slices of Whump discord server!

And yes, yet another new Brumaria AU. Bruno, as always, belongs to the brilliant and lovely Izzy (painful-pooch), and she wrote a good bit of his dialogue for this.

Happy Ides of March, everyone!

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @sssunshinebreeze

The Shadow of Death Masterlist

Contains: referenced lady whump, dude whump, stabbing, mild blood, referenced parental abuse, referenced noncon touch, touch aversion, referenced mass murder

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A million stars fill the night sky, a full moon illuminating the cobblestone drive and the tips of each of the castle’s spires. The heat of the day has faded, cool air brushing Kamaria’s bare shoulders and arms. 

It’s a perfect night for a ball. Or so most of Ethorcon seems to think, judging by the number of carriages parked outside, awaiting their owners. 

Kamaria marches past them all, uncaring of what the drivers and footmen may think of her less than dignified arrival. Reaching the steps, she hitches up the heavy silk skirts of her mother’s borrowed dress, only pausing her momentum once she reaches the towering front doors. The uniformed man standing there gives her an odd look. When she merely nods at him, doing her best to look down her nose like nobility are wont to do, he gives a slight bow and tugs open one door to let her inside.

The entrance hall by itself could fit her father’s entire manor inside, she’s fairly certain. Everything gleams, from the marble floor that she can nearly see her reflection in, to the golden ceiling high above. A magnificent waste of money, on display for all to see. 

That’s nothing new to her, though. Nobility all think the same - why waste your riches on helping people who desperately need it, when you can spend it all on flaunting your status?

She’s arrived late out of more than one necessity. First off, she had to wait until her father had taken the carriage to come this way, himself, before she could even start getting herself ready and make the long walk. But more importantly, the ball is already well under way. No one but a few staff members have noticed her entrance. She doesn’t have to mingle with the rich, doesn’t have to be announced, and of course, doesn’t have as much of a risk of running into her father. 

There’s a gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall to her right. Kamaria takes one last glimpse at herself, avoiding actually looking at her face in favor of adjusting the stiff dress and brushing back a few stray curls.

Then she takes a deep breath, skims her hand across the knife hidden safely in the folds of her skirt, and forges further into the castle.

She has a prince to find.

She expects him to be in the ballroom, right in the thick of the festivities. After all, this entire spectacle is about him. King Tristan is determined to find him a wife, and every eligible young lady around is here throwing themselves at his feet tonight. 

Technically Kamaria fits that description, as well, but she has no intentions or delusions of marrying. Even if she did, Prince Bruno is the absolute last person on earth that she’d ever consider.

It isn’t hard to find the ballroom. All she has to do is follow the sound of lilting music, which grows into a cacophony of instruments, murmuring, laughter, and the clinking of glasses the closer she gets. The doors are thrown open wide, with a few guests spilling out into the corridor.

Kamaria stiffens when she sees them, adjusting her posture and expression. The last thing she needs, when she’s finally this close, is to be called out for not belonging. Her heart pounds, but she reminds herself of the reflection she just saw.

For tonight, she is as noble as her blood. No one can see the scars on her back or the callouses on her hands. No dirt or ash smears her cheeks. She looks the part of a lady, and so long as she plays it, no one should be the wiser.

Swallowing hard, she edges her way into the ballroom, but stays on the outskirts, slowly circling the room. Beyond a few columns on one side is an open section that no one seems to be utilizing, too eager to press into the center and be near all of the action. Kamaria gladly takes it for herself. It’s no quieter, but the lighting is dim and it feels much safer than being within the crowd. From here, she can linger in the shadows and still see everything.

There’s a dance ongoing, couples swirling by in a dizzying whirl of color. The prince will likely be out there, dancing with some lucky girl who’s caught his attention. He doesn’t seem to be with the king and queen, sitting on their thrones on a platform overlooking the festivities, anyway. 

She has honestly no idea what he looks like. She’s counting on the crown to give him away. Faces are going by too fast to catch from this distance, but she should be able to spot the flash of gold in the torchlight.

“You have the right idea, I believe.”

Kamaria is so caught up in her search that she doesn’t notice the man’s approach until he’s upon her. Jolting, she grabs fistfuls of her skirts and tries to calm her suddenly racing heart, giving a quick sideways glance up at him. She has to think of something civilized to say. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I mean that, uh…this can all get to be a bit…much.” With one finger, he indicates the dancers and the crowd. “Sometimes I need to hide away, too.”

Part of her automatically wants to agree with him, but she can’t give away how very out of place she feels here. “Yes, well, I just…needed to catch my breath for a moment. All that dancing, you know.” She cringes inwardly at how stupid she sounds, but then again, maybe that’s for the best. Let him think she’s just another airheaded noble. She doesn’t really care what he thinks of her as long as he doesn’t call her bluff, she needs him to move on so she can continue looking for the prince. 

“Right.” She can see him shift out of the corner of her eye, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Personally, I’d stay back here the whole night if my father wouldn’t hang me for it.”

Something about the way he says it has her taking a second, longer glance at him, just enough that the golden glint above his brow is quite obvious. Suddenly her heart is in her throat, pulse roaring in her ears. 

It’s him. After all these years, the prince is standing here, right next to her, close enough to touch.

Her fingers itch to reach for the knife, but she can’t. Not yet. Not here.

She clears her throat, trying to find her voice again. “I’d think that you would enjoy all of the attention from so many young ladies, sire.”

He sighs. “Well, if any of them were interested in more than just the position my father is offering them, perhaps I would.” She can feel his gaze on her. “What about you? I’m fairly certain you haven’t attempted to approach me yet. You won’t even look at me now.” He sounds amused. “Am I not what you thought I would be? Or has someone already claimed your hand?”

Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she spins abruptly to face him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze. Whatever response she was concocting is gone immediately. His blue eyes light up, and a smile spreads across his face as he voices the exact words running through her mind.

“It’s you.” He chuckles, as if Kamaria’s whole world hasn’t just come screeching to a halt. “I’ll admit, I’d kind of hoped to see you here tonight. I was foolish enough to leave without getting your name before, which made it rather difficult to find you again.”

Her mouth has gone dry. “You…you’re Prince Bruno?” Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Yes, he has on the crown, and he confirmed that the eligible ladies were here for him, but…maybe she’s made a mistake somehow.

“That would be me.”

Every part of her wants to turn around and leave, to find somewhere quiet where she can process this and decide what to do now. But no, nothing has changed. Her plans haven’t changed, she still has to follow through. Just because an hour conversation with this man had made him seem kind and caring and polite and funny and nothing like any other man she’d ever met, that doesn’t erase the last decade of knowing that he has to die.

“You, um…you failed to mention that you were royalty during our first meeting.” She prays he can’t tell how fast her heart is beating or hear the slight quiver in her words.

The prince gives a sheepish smirk. “Yes, sorry about that. It…didn’t seem relevant at the time? We were having such a nice conversation, and…”

He didn’t want her reaction to him to change by knowing who he was. And he’s right, it definitely would have changed. Just not in the way that he was expecting. 

“Of course.” She tries to force a smile. So far, he doesn’t seem to suspect anything, not even that she’s actually a servant. Thankfully, she’d been presentable that day in the orchard, wearing a clean dress and having just washed her face and braided her hair. She probably looked like a peasant, at best, but then again, he hadn’t been dressed like a prince, either.

She opens her mouth to suggest that they find somewhere quieter to talk, but he speaks before she can get the words out. 

“Would you dance with me?”

Kamaria can feel all of the blood drain from her face. “I…I couldn’t, I don’t…” I don’t know how, she almost blurts, but every lady should know how to dance, right? “I’m…not very good at dancing, I’m afraid, and…” Her eyes flit over the crowd. “There’s…so many people…”

His gaze follows hers. “I understand. A dance with me unfortunately would draw a lot of attention. How about right here, then?” He gestures to the dimly lit space around them. “And don’t worry, I won’t judge your dancing skills.”

What can she even say to that? She has no excuse to say no anymore, none that would be acceptable.

Why does he have to be such a gentleman?

Forcing another half-smile, she reaches out her gloved hand to take his outstretched one. “I’d be honored.”

His hand wraps around hers, engulfing it in warmth, and a tingling sensation shoots all the way up her arm. It makes her automatically want to jerk it back, but she just clenches her jaw and steps in closer. He’s smiling so genuinely, sliding his other hand gently around her waist to rest on her lower back. It feels like ice against her spine. 

Touch like this isn’t usually gentle. It’s usually harsh, possessive, accompanied by Lord Roderick’s leering face and nauseating words. And that’s the only kind she gets, other than her father’s fists striking her. She can’t even remember the last time that someone touched her and it didn’t hurt or repulse her. Even now, with no evidence in his stance or expression that he’ll change from exactly what he’s doing right now, she desperately longs to disappear.

But instead, she does exactly as she always does. She stays very still, focuses as hard as she can on her breathing, and pretends not to exist. 

The orchestra begins a new song, a slow, violin-led waltz, and Prince Bruno’s feet start moving in rhythm, pulling her along. “Just follow me,” he murmurs. “And don’t worry if you step on my toes. I have tough feet.”

This is not what she’s supposed to be doing right now. This is the exact opposite of what she should be doing right now. Being held firmly in his arms, swaying and twirling through the shafts of moonlight that illuminate the floor, like two lovers…she feels dizzy, and it’s not from the dance itself. 

He’s a murderer, and a perfect gentleman. She allowed herself to like him, the day they met, to think about him often since then. Now, knowing who he really is, the thought makes her sick. But at the same time, she still feels herself drawn toward him in that same way. The way he looks at her…it’s nothing like she’s ever seen before. He makes her feel wanted, and no one has wanted her in many, many years. 

Kamaria sucks in a sharp breath and pulls her gaze down to his shoulder. If he actually knew who she was - a servant and a Navarian - he wouldn’t want her. Perhaps he’d order her death, like he had dozens of others.

“Are you alright?”

He sounds so concerned, and she can’t take it anymore. She stops abruptly, stepping away and yanking her hand from his grasp like she’s wanted to all along, before she fully realizes what she’s doing. Luckily, she’s granted a plausible reason as soon as she glances past him. A group has gathered between the columns, gawking, apparently having noticed the movement of their dance and realizing that it’s their prince finally dancing with someone. Kamaria stares at them for a moment, heart still pounding, long enough for Prince Bruno to turn and see for himself. 

She has to get out of here. There’s a door in the corner, she has no idea where it leads, but it has to be better than this stuffy room full of curious people and too-loud music. Leaving the prince behind, she lifts her skirts slightly and runs toward it as fast as she dares.

To her immense relief, it lets out onto a large balcony, overlooking the gardens at the back of the castle. Kamaria crosses to the railing and drops her skirts, leaning heavily onto her hands and taking in gulps of the cool evening air. She’s trembling all over. 

The door opens and shuts behind her, and she tenses, fingers gripping the rail. 

“I’m sorry about that. Unfortunately, that kind of attention tends to follow me.”

She swallows and forces her voice to work. “Will they now? Follow you, that is.”

“No.” He’s walking a bit further onto the balcony, but staying back away from her. Giving her space, presumably, because he always seems to somehow know what she needs. “I’ve ordered a guard to hold them off, with the promise that I will return shortly.” There’s a pause, even his footsteps quieting. “But I don’t have to. I don’t actually have to return at all. Will it tick my father off? Yes, but I don’t really care.”

No. No, he doesn’t have to return. He doesn’t deserve to return, doesn’t deserve to keep living his luxurious, perfect life being fawned over by hundreds while her people’s blood stains the ground. 

The knife is out of its hidden pocket and in her hand without her really thinking about it. She turns slowly and begins to walk toward him, the rush of her blood once again filling her ears.

He has to die. It doesn’t matter how good he seems now, he sealed his fate ten years ago. 

He’s leaning against the wall, watching her. She can’t look him in the face, if she does she might falter, and that’s the one thing she can’t do. Close enough to hear his breaths, she places one hand against his arm to brace herself. 

She’s ready. Just like all those times she’s practiced. One sure, swift movement, and the knife is buried in his flesh.

There’s a quiet choking sound, deep in his throat. He sucks in a sharp breath, huffs a laugh. “Was it…something I said?”

Kamaria stares at the knife hilt protruding from the prince’s shoulder, at the bright red blood seeping out from around it, at the blue silk glove on her hand that still holds it. She should pull it out. Stab him again, in the chest, where she’d meant to stab him to start with. 

She can’t seem to do so.

"You're not the first to do that. And I'm sure you're not the last.” He’s still talking, still so bafflingly calm despite the fact that the woman he was flirting with has just stabbed him. “Do you really want me dead? Because you sure didn't think I was a terrible person when we were talking a few weeks ago.”

She’s shaking again. Or still, perhaps. It’s unclear whether or not she ever stopped. 

This is supposed to be her moment. She’s been planning this for so long, been waiting for the perfect chance, and now it’s here and…it’s all wrong.

His hand comes up, slowly, and covers her, wrapping around the knife just as gently as he’d held onto her inside. "How about we talk about this. You can keep the knife there, or not. Preferably, I would like to live after this, but if you are determined enough, I suppose I could go."

Now he doesn’t even care whether she kills him? He wants to talk, rather than just shoving her away, shouting for the guards, having her arrested and hanged?

She shuts her eyes, jaw clenching and unclenching. “You weren’t supposed to be…nice.”

"I wasn't supposed to be a prince either, but things don't work out that way, love. I'm sorry I wasn't a terrible person like some think of me."

Kamaria’s eyes fly open, and she finally looks him in the face, glaring. “You are a terrible person. You killed them. And I’ve been waiting my whole life to return the favor.”

"And who told you what I am?" His brow is furrowed, confusion with flashes of irritation playing across his features. "What would I have succeeded in the death of others? If you think that low of me, then go ahead, twist the knife, or go for something lethal this time."

His hand releases hers in favor of raising both in surrender, obviously moving the left carefully to avoid jostling the knife. "There's nothing I have to hide, my dear. Nothing. If you want answers, then I'll do my best to help you find them. If you want to do away with me once you have your truth, then so be it."

She knows the answers already. She just doesn’t understand them now that she’s here. What if she’s wrong? What if she’s had it wrong all along, and this is really not the man she should have been looking for?

Her eyes search his, looking desperately for the truth. "I don't know. I can't...I can't reconcile the man I met in the orchard with the one who had my family killed. Which one are you? Was everything you said to me...a façade? Or are you going to try to convince me that you've changed, because that was all so long ago? Or that it was a necessary loss for the good of the country?"

"I'm the same man I've always been, the one you met. I have not lied to you since the moment we met, and I don't plan on changing that about myself." He lowers his arms, noticeably gritting his teeth as he does so. More blood oozes out and stains his crisp white shirt. "I did change, but not in the way you imagine. And I would never…what loss would make the country great? Our people are our people. What would there be to gain from killing those that I'm supposed to protect?"

"You tell me!” she spits. “Because those were royal soldiers that burned down the village that night. I was there. I saw them.” The memories of that night are seared into both her mind and her skin. “And all fingers have pointed to you as the one who sent them." She pauses, still watching his face, ready for her next question to reveal his true nature. "Was it because we were Navarian? Because we were outsiders?"

He does react, but not in disgust like she expected. He flinches, as if she’s physically struck him. "I never sent my troops to harm your people." She can almost see the thoughts racing in his mind. "Navarian or not, I swore to protect their lives as well."

He just keeps on denying everything, and Kamaria doesn’t know whether to believe him or stab him again for it. She leans in a little, putting more pressure on the knife. "Then why are they dead?"

Prince Bruno tightly shuts his eyes, the pain obviously getting to him. "Let me figure that out with you. You want justice, and I'll make it happen. I never wanted to hurt people." He opens his eyes to meet hers, and she hates that she can see honesty shining in them. "You have no reason to trust me, but I need you to give me a chance to prove my innocence. Because if I didn't do this, then that means someone else will just let it happen again."

She wants to believe him. She wants to see if he can actually find different answers than the ones she’s always known.

Part of her, the part that has planned his death since she was twelve, also wants to be done with this here and now.

But as she’s debating, the clock tower in the center of town begins to chime. Her attention jerks to it. Midnight. Far later than she ever planned on being here. Her father won’t stay much longer, and she still has to walk all the way back home. If she’s not there when he gets there…

“Fine.” It’s an effort to pry her fingers away from the knife, but she does so, taking two steps back. “You have your chance. If you didn’t kill them, then find out who did. And I’ll find out if you’re lying to me.”

She has to go. She doesn’t know whether to hope that she ever sees his face again, or not. But she turns, hurrying toward the door on the other end of the balcony, one that doesn’t lead back into the ballroom. 

"Wait, can I at least have your name this time? I want to find who hurt your people, and I want to be able to tell you when I do."

Her steps slow, then stop, and she stares at the ground, debating what to tell him. If he comes looking for her, he’ll know that she’s a fraud, a pathetic lord’s daughter being used as a servant in her own home. Maybe he won’t even want to help her anymore.

She should tell him something, though. And since her father refuses to call her by her real, Navarian name anyway… “Kamaria.” That will have to do. She’ll just find him herself as soon as she can get away, and make sure he’s holding himself to his vow.

She looks back over her shoulder at the prince, still leaning heavily against the wall with her knife sticking out of him. “Don’t let me down.”

Without waiting for an answer, she shoves through the door and runs off into the night.

[shannaraisles]

The Warden's Witch, Part 3 - @euryalex

For the indomitable @euryalex, who requested a look at what the dark ritual from Dragon Age: Origins might look like with her transplanted OC Tara and Wyll Ravengard from Baldur's Gate 3. It was fun to write! Came out longer than expected, but it was a joy - thank you so much for your faith in me, lovely!

The Warden’s Witch, Part 3

“That idiot boy will not even speak to me without Cecilia present. One would think he would have developed more sense after our long journey, but, alas.”

Morrigan’s sigh was more genuine than anything Tara believed she had ever heard from her sister before. She frowned, looking over at the other woman, slumped in a chair by the leaping fire. The Grimoire - their mother’s legacy, stolen from her by their friends - lay in her own lap, the open pages mocking her with the ritual they had only one night to complete if their friends were to survive. 

If Wyll was to survive.

She knew he would be the first among the Wardens to snatch up the sword and sacrifice his own life for the sake of the land. He was so irritatingly noble, so utterly unaware of his worth beyond the service he could perform for his land, his king, his people. So oblivious to the fact that more than his heart would stop in those terrible moments when he obeyed his Warden’s Oath to perfection. 

“Perhaps you should have spent more time befriending him, and less time taunting him,” she suggested to her sister, her tone perhaps a little more arch than she really should have allowed it to be.

“I refuse to change myself for the sake of anyone, much less a man whose seed is all I require,” Morrigan retorted with a scowl. “But all hope is not yet lost. You have a pet Warden who may yet be more amenable to our desire.”

“Wyll is not a pet.” Tara’s eyes narrowed at the other woman, mildly disgusted by Morrigan’s insistence on not seeing anyone around her as deserving of basic respect unless they had earned it through personal connection with herself. “And I will not trick him, if that is what you are thinking.”

“All you have to do is seduce him,” Morrigan pointed out. “We can prime you in here, and then you can go and finally have your romantic evening with your doe-eyed prince. He need never know the reason, and they can all live out their lives believing themselves to be the precious golden unicorns that all Wardens secretly wish to be.”

“I won’t lie to him, Morrigan.”

The older woman’s brow rose above an unamused smirk. 

“Then you will have to be very convincing, little sister,” she said, “or this night may well be his last.”

Tara’s scowl matched her sister’s for a long moment, her dark eyes drifting back to the open grimoire on her lap. Could she do this? Flemeth’s magic seemed costly; someone would have to pay a hefty price for this to be a success, but ... what if that price was simply the burden of motherhood? It wasn’t the child she particularly wanted; it was Wyll’s continued existence beyond the battle tomorrow. It was a price worth paying. 

She murmured the words, slender fingers drawing the runes in the air, gathering her mana to her to prime her womb. No matter the strength of the taint that affected his seed, she would conceive tonight. If Wyll allowed it.

Would he understand how important it was to her that he survive? That he stay by her side?

Of course he wouldn’t. She had never told him.

With a snap of leather and parchment, she rose, tossing the now-closed grimoire onto the bed behind her. She didn’t bother acknowledging Morrigan’s knowing stare on her back as she left the room, letting the heavy door bang closed behind her. Her decision was made. All that mattered how was his. 

Arl Eamon’s keep here at Redcliffe was strangely silent in these few hours before the forced march they would soon undertake. Outside the thick walls, an army was encamped, restless men and women trying to snatch a few hours of sleep before they would have to be up and moving, to chase down the darkspawn army and deliver Denerim from certain destruction. Yet here, along the carpeted stone hallways, Tara could have sworn she was the only living being in the entire castle. There was not even any sound of Cecilia and Leliana as she passed their door, though the two of them were incapable of sharing a space without filling it with chatter and warmth. But not tonight. Not when they all knew that death was waiting for them to the north. 

She raised her hand to Wyll’s door, and hesitated, seeing the dirt under her fingernails, the grime of their own forced march that had culminated today in a vicious fight still coating her skin with gritty unpleasantness. Was there time to bathe? Or ... no.

It was only a matter of minutes to seek out a servant, and barely a half hour more when Wyll received a knock on his door, along with a request to admit Tara, a pair of servants with a finely-carved wooden bath tub, and a swift parade of other servants, human and elf alike, bearing great steaming kettles of hot water to fill it with.

“What is this?” He offered up a half-laugh, one hand gesturing to the sudden bustle filling his room.

Tara levelled a particular look on him, one she knew had a tendency to make him just a little bit nervous. 

“Wyll. We both know you are not going to sleep tonight,” she pointed out. “The least you can do is relax in a tub and be clean.”

“And what about you?” he countered, gesturing now to the grimy fingers that had prompted this little act of kindness in the first place.

“I’m not the Grey Warden facing a fight with an Archdemon,” she said, and in her tone was all the gravity of the situation without ever needing to state it outright.

Wyll’s forced smile dropped, the weight of expectation and sacrifice showing plainly on his face as he rubbed a hand over his brow, half-turning away from the quiet exodus of servants and the secure thump of the door being closed firmly in their wake. 

“You knew about it?” he asked, a trace of bitterness in his voice she had never heard aimed at herself before. “Did everyone know but us?”

She bit her lip, glancing toward the closed door as though momentarily contemplating the coward’s way out of this conversation. But no. She had come to him, here and now, for a specific reason. She refused to avoid that outcome just because talking about how to get there was awkward. 

“Morrigan and I know,” she admitted, her voice low enough to complement the crackle and pop of the logs on the fire. “But only because it is detailed in Mo- Flemeth’s grimoire. I highly doubt the others know anything of it. Well, apart from Leliana - those two share everything.”

This had the desired effect - though his face betrayed the stress of the unexpected revelation, he still managed to conjure a brief smile at the reference to just how inseparable their indomitable leader and the bard had become over the past months. A thought that lead to another thought made her own lips twitch into a soft smile; the thought of how close she and Wyll had become since their first unplanned meeting by the demon’s cairn in the Korcari Wilds. She had been curious enough to stop her escape from the Wilds to investigate; he, desperate enough to join forces with an apostate witch. Who would have thought that, all these months later, this Warden and his witch would be instrumental to the defence of not only Ferelden, but the whole world? A hefty burden for even the widest of shoulders. Heftier still, to be placed on the shoulders of such young people who had all found each other by happenstance and luck. 

“Tara, I ...” Wyll hesitated, letting out a low huff of breath as he, too, looked away from her. “This burden belongs to the Wardens. I would not blame you if you chose to leave tonight. You have more to live for than a battle we may not win.”

For the briefest moment, she was shocked. No, she was hurt. It shone in her dark eyes, piercing him with rebuke for even suggesting that she might take this opportunity to abandon him. 

“How dare you say that to me?” she said, each word sharp with retort. “I have stood at your side since Ostagar, and not once have I strayed. Not even in that pestilential Gauntlet. I let you - all of you - see my deepest fears and regrets, and I still stayed. You have no right to ask me to leave you now.”

“But you do not have to fight this fight,” he protested. “You can leave, escape - you can live.”

“I can live, knowing that I turned my back on you when you most needed me?” Tara’s laugh was harsh in the face of his nobility. “How magnanimous of you, my dear Warden.”

“No, you don’t understand, I -” 

He sighed, passing a hand over his handsome face once again, his knee bumping the steaming tub as he flailed for the words he wanted to say. She gave him the time to find those words. They had always had a comfortable silence between them, even when heated words had been spoken. If he needed that silence now, then she would happily give it to him. 

“I made a vow,” he said quietly. “When I Joined the Grey Wardens, I made a solemn oath. True, I did not know what that last line truly meant until Riordan explained it to us tonight, but ... don’t you see? It changes nothing. If I must die so that Alistair and Cecilia may live, then so be it.”

“I know.”

Her own words dropped into the silence like a stone into a pool, leaving ripples of the words that were unspoken to spill from them in the stillness as Warden and witch gazed into each other’s eyes. Those unspoken words crackled between them, arching like lightning across the space between man and woman, linking them and yet not once had either one ever moved to complete that bond they both felt. 

“What if none of you had to die with the Archdemon?”

The shock in his eyes was almost a palpable blow to her gut; his surprise, his ... Hope. She had given him hope, and suddenly she could see exactly how close to accepting his own death Wyll Ravengard was. He had given up all claim to his own life the moment that damned Orlesian Warden had told the Ferelden group the truth of their vow. In death, sacrifice ... But the sacrifice was not that of the archdemon whose death it spoke of. No, that sacrifice was the death of the Warden who struck the blow. Riordan should not have told them, Tara mused unexpectedly. All he had done was ensure an argument at the critical moment as the three young Wardens tried to be the one to die for their friends. At least she could offer them all hope.

“What?”

The word fell from his lips like a startled bird from a branch, falling part way only to be lifted up again on his breath as he leaned forward, eagerly. 

“Tara ... what do you mean?” His hands reached for hers, eyes boring into her own. Needing to see the truth as she explained herself. “Tell me. If you know a way to save us, please ... tell me.”

She gazed up at him, feeling the tingle of the magic cast upon herself still within her womb, ready to guarantee a life planted in her this night and in so doing, save four others in the moment of their sacrifice.

“Do you trust me?” she asked softly. “Not the magic, not Flemeth, not the Wilds ... do you trust me?”

For what felt like a small age, there was silence. Nothing but the sound of the logs in the hearth and the ebb and flow of their breath to break the stillness that had fallen around them. Nothing but the press of his fingers twining with hers, the piercing certainty of his eyes holding her own captive, unable to look away. Nothing but him, even as he considered her.

“Tara.” Her name was barely a ghost on his breath, but oh, how it ached. “Trust is not the word for what I feel for you.”

“Then what word is it?” she asked, unwilling to be left in the dark. Even if he chose to die, even if he went out there tomorrow and gave up everything ... she had to know. She would never be able to live without knowing. 

His answer came without words. A sudden surge of motion, his hands leaving hers to plunger fingertips into her hair, cradle her jaw in his palms, and his lips were brushing her own in a breathless, tender query ... asking to be allowed to go further, to share with her the kiss on the very tip of his tongue that could say so much more than words ever would. She heard herself sob - in relief or in demand, she could not have said - and pressed herself closer to him, closing the last distance, stealing away the question and answering it with passion and sweetness and all the unspoken longing in her heart. 

He growled as her nails scraped over his scalp, the sound reverberating through her, sending a spiralling spear of unadulterated desire trembling through every limb. Her lips parted, asking him inside, demanding something deeper, closer, something more than the kiss that had already stolen her breath and set her heart pounding. As his hands shifted, one falling to her waist to pull her hard against him, she squeaked; a girlish, innocent sound that made him grin into their kiss and draw her ever tighter to him, consuming her even as she sought to match his eagerness with her own. 

Wait ... hadn’t they been talking about something? Wasn’t it important? Whatever it was flew from her mind as his lips tore from hers to trace a possessive line of slick heat from her mouth to her jaw to the sensitive curve of her neck, a tug of his fingers in her hair guiding her head back to allow him more access even as she arched against him. Her voice, unmuffled now, seemed loud in the quiet of the room, unable to quiet herself in this sudden onslaught of all desires fulfilled. She gasped, almost shocked when his fingers found their way inside her scanty robe, only just keeping herself from crying out at the blissful wonder of his bare skin against her own ... yet that very shock was enough to remind her that not all of this tingle was wholly because of him.

She couldn’t do this, not without his full and knowing consent. 

“Wyll ...” 

His lips caught hers, stilling her words. 

“Mmm ... no, Wyll, wait, I ... I need to ...” 

With an effort she felt sure she should be commended for when she looked back on it in future days, Tara laid her hands on his chest and pushed hard, forcing him back from her pliant form, insisting that the intoxicating kisses stop, if only for a few moments more. Hands falling to rest at her hips, he stared at her, torn between hurt and confusion.

“Wh-what?” he asked, breathless himself as they both fought for control of themselves. “Did I do something ... something wrong?”

“N-no!”

She rushed to reassure him, fingers soft on his cheeks even as she sought to keep just a little distance. He was too good, too handsome, too wonderful ... too much to hold at bay if she did not get this out before they fell upon one another again. 

“No,” she said again, gentler this time, swaying into him, seeking to comfort that heat with the warmth of herself. “You did nothing wrong. But I need to talk to you. I need you to know something, before we can do this.”

“So tell me.”

He drew her back with him, settling them both on the bed, hip to hip and hand to hand, reluctant to release her from his grasp as though afraid she might disappear the moment he no longer had her beneath his touch. He was so warm, so trusting. Would he still be so, when he knew what she had come to tell him?

“Wyll ...” She sighed his name, leaning into him for a long moment before gathering together the remnants of her wits to try and form some palatable presentation of what she had to say. “There’s a way - Morrigan and I, we found a way to save you. All four of you. From the ... the sacrifice when the Archdemon dies tomorrow.”

His hands tightened on hers, the only betrayal of the sudden tumult of his emotions. He did not want to die, she knew that for a fact. But he could not see how it could be avoided without resorting to some forbidden magic. And perhaps Flemeth’s spell would be considered forbidden, but Tara felt sure it was not blood magic. It was older than any declaration against blood magic, from a time when magic was just magic, with nothing laid against the act itself. From a time when the intention of the caster made the magic evil, not the magic itself. It did not make her maleficarum, and it would not make him an accomplice to a crime against the Chantry. Yet it would make him, and Cecilia, and Alistair, the focus of a good deal of scrutiny from their fellow Wardens, should their reinforcements ever arrive in full. 

“How can that be?” Wyll’s question was justified. The point of a Warden’s Joining was to make them fit for this absorption of a dark soul, to the point of their own destruction. The circumventing of it was ... unorthodox.

“Your Joining masks your soul from the very essence of the old god corrupted by the taint,” she said, hoping she could explain better than Morrigan’s pitiful attempt to explain to her earlier in the day. “When the Archdemon dies, that soul seeks a new vessel. If ... if an unborn babe was to be close enough at that moment, a babe no more than a few days old in the womb, then that soulless vessel would draw the old god’s soul to it, and the mere act of being absorbed into a truly soulless vessel would cleanse the taint from it.”

He stared at her. She could see his mind struggling to grasp what she was telling him, what she was suggesting. It was unthinkable, yes ... but it was also plausible, understandable. It made sense. She saw the second thought flicker through his mind, too, already smiling even as he opened his mouth to address it.

“So ... are you ...”

“No,” she said, cutting him off before he could hurt both of them by voicing that uncertain suspicion aloud. “And neither is Morrigan. But ...” Tara drew in a slow breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Wyll, if you are willing, we could lie together tonight and plant that seed. And you and your fellows would not be tied to the fate of the Archdemon tomorrow.”

“And you would bear an old god?” he asked, horror now in his tone. “That could kill you!”

She shook her head swiftly.

“Only the soul of the old god,” she clarified. “I don’t know how powerful a mage that may make the child, but they will be a child, a mortal life created from the death of something truly immortal. And- and who better to raise that child than a witch and Warden?”

She had surprised him again, she could tell. His throat worked as he swallowed, and not for the first time, she wondered how often in his life he had been used and discarded with no thought for the future. 

“You would allow me to be a part of the child’s life?” he asked, his voice low, the hope hidden so deeply within that she only heard it because she knew it was there.

“I would slap you silly if you chose not to be,” she informed him smartly. “Wyll, I don’t ... I don’t really care about becoming a mother. I want to save you.”

He let out a mirthless laugh.

“But in doing that,” he said, “you are giving up your freedom, to be a mother to a very precious child.”

It was her turn to fall silent, to hold his gaze and hope beyond hope that he knew her well enough to read truth in her eyes as she stared at him. Her hands softened in his grasp, her whole body softened toward him. Did he truly not know how very previous he was to her?

“For you, I would give up everything,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm. “And I would thank whoever took it that you are kept safe and whole.”

“But why?” He truly did not seem to be able to grasp what could possibly motivate her to make such a sacrifice for him.

Tara’s smile was bittersweet as she shook her head. Was it really so hard to believe that she could feel this way about him?

“Because I love you, you oblivious heap of horse droppings.”

The childish insult did its work, breaking the tension of the moment, delivering first Wyll, and then her, into fits of irrepressible giggles that only grew out of control, urged on by the tension and fear and impossibility of the situation they found themselves in. They dropped back onto the bed together, still laughing, still clinging to one another, until finally the laughter faded away, leaving only the words between them. 

“As charming as that declaration was,” Wyll said, the smile still playing about his lips as he rolled to face her, “this oblivious heap of horse droppings loves you in return. Not because you can save me, though I am deeply grateful for that ... I love you for your strength, your stubbornness, the kindness you think I don’t see, the softness you only show when you think no one is looking. I love you for your eyes, your mouth, your hair. I love you, Tara.” His hand dropped to her belly, to the womb awaiting a seed to save not one, but four lives. “And I will love our child, no matter what soul they bear.”

Her mouth fell open, her turn to be shocked by his acceptance of her offer so casually and meaningfully given. 

“You-you don’t think it’s a sin?” she asked, knowing the Chantry would condemn this if they knew of it. “You don’t think it makes me evil, even to have suggested it?”

Wyll sighed, shuffling closer to her, tucking her into his chest as his fingers rose to stroke her hair.

“I learned today that the great heroic order I Joined of my own free will was created to send men like me to our deaths without our full knowledge until the moment it becomes necessary to know,” he said, and now she realised what that edge to his tension was. He was angry with the deception that had brought him to this point in time. “That my noble sacrifice is expected of me. That it would not be my choice to die for others if I were the one to strike the blow.”

He leaned down, lips touching a soft kiss to her mouth as he stroked a tender touch from her hair to her jaw to her shoulder. 

“Tara,” he breathed, “I don’t want to die. I want to live ... with you, for you. Forget the Wardens. I will do my duty tomorrow, and then we can disappear. No one need ever find us, unless we wish it.”

“We can escape, just the two of us,” she whispered, almost laughing when he tapped on her belly once again. “The three of us.”

His mouth quirked into a half-grin as he leaned down to her once more, hands sure, lips hungry, eyes filled with love. 

“Let’s just make sure that there is a three of us first,” he murmured, muffling himself against her lips as he drew her to him, tender love mingling with lustful desire finally given a voice. “I intend to be very thorough.”

Her giggle was swallowed by his kiss as she melted into him, forgetting the impending battle, the doom cloud hanging over the castle, the army encamped in the valley beyond, the darkspawn spreading their corruption across the land. In a matter of days, it would be over.

And they would be free.

[bi-hop]

whaat is the trump manga i need to know

it's a manga about a boy named Sophie who is a dhampir and enrolls at a school for other vampires who are going through vampire puberty (I forget the name for it. cocooning? something like that). he ends up stumbling into a codependent friendship with one of the teenage members of nobility there.

I read it here!

[arcadekore]

The Midwest is something else what do you mean last week it was almost 70 degrees and it’s going to snow up to 8 inches tomorrow

[the-sea-anemone]

every winter i convince myself i'm probably not actually allergic to pollen and then as soon as the flowers start blooming i'm like. wow my eyes are so itchy all the time for completely mysterious unknowable reasons

[scum-belina]

Mowed the lawn today in the cold 💪🏻

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2024 Day 2- Dragon(born)

Dragon Heart Flower Festival Part 2

Part 1 Here

I could not help myself I wanted more of this story because the first one was so cute and fun.

As always, thanks to @borealwrites for their amazing Monster March 2024 Prompt List. Enjoy.

Monster March 2024 - Dragonborn, Dragon Heart Flower Festival Part 2

Part 2

Come morning, he was relieved to still see her sound asleep in his bed and still in his arms. She had turned in her sleep to cuddle into his chest and had a leg hiked up over his hip and an arm around his chest while her face nuzzled into the center of his chest. She really did look angelic, in the most humanoid way. 

He smiled fondly and couldn’t help but caress her face before kissing the crown of her pretty head before he ran his fingers through her silken locks of hair, marveling at the wonder in his bed and wanting to commit each detail to memory before there was a knock on the door and he quickly put his hand over her ear so it wouldn’t disturb her or wake her up. For fear, she’d vanish if she did. 

“What?” He asked. 

“My Lord? I have breakfast for you and your guest.” Dovroth announced. 

“Be quick about it please.” He answered as he really felt he should feed her before she would try to leave. 

“Yes My Lord.” Dovroth answered before the door was opened by one his family’s maids and his own manservant had the large platter as he carried it and brought in and placed it onto the table in the room. 

Kalmeak used his own body to try to shield exactly who and what was in his bed from the prying eyes of the servants before they quickly left again. But no sooner, had they, before the scent of food soon woke her up before she stretched and opened her eyes. 

“Lord?” She repeated with bleary eyes up at him as his head ducked down sheepishly. 

“Yeah, my family is uhm, well, nobility. So I’m technically part of nobility. Something that we’ve picked up over time since the convergence with other races.” He sheepishly confessed. 

“I see, makes sense, a house this size, would need help keeping it clean.” Kallura noted as she tried to stretch her arms but the wounds from last night kept her from doing so before she touched her shoulders. 

“Ah, forgot about those.” She said as her hands went to her shoulders and found they had already healed, but had actually scarred overnight. Leaving little scars where his most prominent teeth had sunk into her flesh. 

“Your saliva heals?” She asked him as she looked over at her shoulder curiously. 

“Yeah, it can.” He confirmed as she seemed to hum in response but grin a little knowingly. 

“Good to know. Can we eat now? Worked up quite the appetite last night.” She asked hopefully. 

“Yes, of course.” He invited before she used his own blanket to wrap around her to go with him to the table to eat once he took the lids off of the various dishes before he noticed there was a note, from his mother no less, in the middle of the tray as she had used the larger pieces of bedding to tie into something of a sleeveless night dress. 

“What’s this?” Kallura asked once she began to reach for it. 

“I don’t know.” He quickly snatched it before she could. 

“Well I don’t speak, let alone read that much draconian. So whatever is written on it I wouldn’t be able to tell either way.” She shrugged before she used one of the plates provided and began to heap on spoonfuls of each dish onto the plate as he poured her a glass of juice and a cup of tea while he read the note from his mom, fearing the worst. Knowing the disapproving remarks and most likely, reproach for mating with anything other than another dragonborn or even any other kind of dragonfolk, were sure to cut his heart like blades. So he braced himself to read what he was sure to be scathing remarks. 

But instead, it was congratulations. Which, he was relieved and then, strangely suspicious of as he frowned deeper the more he read it. 

“So? What does the note say?” Kallura asked as she watched him read it for a third time. 

“Uh, it’s an invitation to meet my family.” He repeated in confusion. “Well, if you’re frowning at the thought. I don’t have to, I probably shouldn’t if you don’t want me to.” Kallura offered. 

“No! I…it’s up to you. If you want to meet them, you’re more than welcome to, they’d be perfectly pleasant. It’s just…I didn’t think they’d be this…pleased with the fact I brought you home and uh…” He said as he gestured to his bed before looking back over to the note to read it a fourth and fifth time. There was something he was missing. He was sure of it, he just couldn’t see it or figure it out. 

“Are they hoping a more permanent relationship will result from last night’s multiple unions?” Kallura asked thoughtfully. 

Kalmeak nearly choked on his own spit because that’s exactly what this note was really saying. 

“Uh, well, yeah, um, but again, if that’s not something you want, or are comfortable with or…” He tried to backpedal because this one night stand had the potential to become much more serious than that. And could potentially be a bit more complicated, especially if any or all of that seed ended up taking root where he had- oh so deeply and enthusiastically- planted it the night before. 

“Is it something you don’t want? Or is it something you aren’t comfortable with?” Kallura asked. 

“No, it is! It very much is! But again, I just…I don’t want them or myself pushing a more serious relationship onto you if that’s not something you don’t want too.” He confessed as she hummed and nodded in understanding again. 

“I just don’t understand how they got to know your name. Like is your full name really Kallura Auramara?” He said as he pointed to her name on the note as he showed it to her, although, it was written in draconic, so of course, she couldn’t read it yet as he realized that just a moment after he did so. 

“Ah, I see they must have asked about me then to our mutual friend.” She grinned with a nod, thinking her own name was written quite beautifully in his native draconian and the symbols of his alphabet looked quite pretty and she was sure she could figure it out quickly enough. Surely before a little one would come along. 

“What mutual friend?” He asked. 

“Aldrinshrine.” She answered smugly as she delicately picked up the teacup and took a sip and grinned at the delicious flavor of the tea and added some juice to really enhance the flavor that much more and enjoy it’s complex flavors with added sweetness. 

“Wait, wait, wait. You know Aldrinshrine?” He asked, in shock and surprise, because Aldrinshine was the newest dragon to join the Great Dragons in their city, she was the size of a large draft horse at the moment though, since Great Dragons were practically worshiped by himself and his kind and country, because after the convergence, everyone simply cleaved to what they knew and was something, anything even remotely familiar from their homeworld. And for the dragon folk- that was the larger and greater dragons. 

“Yeah, I hatched her and her clutchmates myself. And when she mated with a dragon from here and settled here- I came to check up on her. Her and her mate invited me and my friends to stay and enjoy the festival here, she taught me what little draconian she was able to learn herself and thanks to her mate, he got us some funds so we didn’t appear to be too out of place last night.” She revealed. 

“You…you hatch Great Dragons?” He asked, floored by this knowledge. Usually only the priests and priestesses only ever did that. No wonder she seemed to know innately what was pleasurable to him and used that to her advantage last night. 

“Yeah, all true quadrapedal dragons- have the ability to become Great Dragons if they are fed, cared for, are given enough space to have as a territory, and given a chance to breed, lay eggs and incubate them successfully. All they need is time to eat and grow to become that size.” She answered with a little shrug as Kalmeak was struck speechless again, this time, in pleasant surprise. 

“Surely your non native dragons speak of the moura in the mountain tops who keep dragons too? You give dragons a territory, a cave filled with enough gold to keep them content, and a guaranteed food supply, space for them to participate in their own mating rituals, and a nesting site so they can incubate their clutches of eggs. And they’ll happily protect you and the home you make for you all. And wherever they go, a moura can usually go too.” Kallura noted and that’s when it clicked. The non native dragons did speak of a peoples like that. But they called them something else, something they didn’t have a word for, but had a translation for. 

“Oh my gods, you’re a gold angel. The dragons speak of a being, we don’t have a word for it in draconian, so the translation of what the word means for the people - is gold angels. Angels that make gold and are tied to the sun and moon, clouds and heavens. The dragons told us that they live in the mountains that are little beings of heaven and fire that are friends first and always need to be protected above all else because of the gold. That’s what you are? That’s what a..a moura is?” He asked as he clutched his head in his hands as his brain suddenly hurt from all those pieces falling into place. 

“Ah, I see you know about the gold thing. Yeah, I guess someone could call us that once the dragons tried to describe us to others. We are beings born of heaven and fire. We came from a waterworld. On our home world, the merfolk grew as a species beside us. They were in the waters below, we were in the clouds above, but there was no dry land in between us. Just sky and a world of water. But a red algae bloomed in the waters. It was threatening to kill off all the merfolk so we got pulled into the supersphere with the merfolk. And here, the sun was five times as big, ten times as strong and gave us all kinds of new magic and abilities. And with this world, because there’s dry land, and not just…water as far as the eye can see. We were happy to start to explore the dry land instead of sticking only to the cloud realm.” She recounted as he listened with rapt attention. 

“Granted there are some moura who have refused to leave the clouds. But we are born of fire because we are shapeshifters and can take on a phoenix form. And are immune to phoenix fire and dragonfire. Because we had our own cloud dragons while the waters had their own water dragons too. I think you could understand why moura are quite protective of themselves. The first few hundred years after the convergence, humans were the first to find out about us and our ability to turn things into gold. They always called us ‘Midus Touch people’. Apparently there was a king back on earth that turned things to gold once he touched them too. So they were the first to hunt us as a species, quite ruthlessly I might add. But like the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Well, to mouras, that saying is- the friend of my friend is my friend too. So since you are friends to the Great Dragons, they vouched that we’d be safe to come here and be among you. So when they invited us, we took them up on that invitation. Because they had quite high praise of you and your kind.” Kallura revealed as Kalmeak dropped his hands and just looked at his companion in pleasant surprise as if it was the first time he was seeing the great beauty before him all over again. 

“Really? Like what? What did they say?” He asked curiously as he scooted closer in his seat. 

“That the dragonborn are a very honorable and honest kind of beings and quite trustworthy too. That their word is as sure as the sunrise and sunset and that they would never do anything dishonorable. They would never mistreat, let alone abuse another or bring harm to another, unless they were in battle. That you abhor slavery, but tolerate servitude when there is a debt to be paid back or if others simply wish to live as paid servants. Otherwise, dragonborn are very fierce but well disciplined soldiers. And that no matter the reputation of another kind. They take each individual as they are. And don’t hold what they would know about their kind and hold it against them if it was bad or expect greater if it’s something good. That what you see, is what you get with them. They said that dragonkin are a bit more magic heavy in species and much more focused on magical items because they are magic sensitive. And weredragons appear human and then transform into dragons. And that there was half dragons too, so it shows that dragonfolk can interbreed with other beings too.” Kallura recalled. 

“So…do moura…?” Kalmeak asked as he couldn’t help but gesture back to his bed that was clearly in shambles thanks to all the intense sexual intercourse the previous night. 

“Oh yeah we interbreed, like, a lot. I have yet to meet anything bipedal that mouras can’t interbreed with yet. Granted, as long as the body shape is similar enough, and that the body alignment is similar enough, in the whole- head, shoulders, arms, torso, hips, legs, walks up right on two legs- thing.” Kallura answered as she gestured to herself. 

“So…why’d you come down to the surface if you could live peacefully and safely in the clouds?” Kalmeak asked before Kallura picked up her plate of food and wiggled it in her hands while snickering to watch the puddings and sweet gelatins jiggle as she did that as her body followed suit as Kalmeak’s eyes devoured the view way more than the food. 

“To pure blooded mouras, the sun gives all the power and sustenance we need. We can make food out of the clouds but there’s little to no substance to it. It’s just…soft, fluffy air- basically. However, once we found out that beings on dry land could cook food and make it tasty with spices and stuff, the smell is what drew us in and the taste is what hooked us. Then once we started eating surface food, we couldn’t stop. That and surface food is way heavier and denser and demands more power to digest it but is densely nutritious and exponentially delicious and a single meal is just as satisfying as a whole day of sunning and very invigorating and empowering. But once you digest it, the hunger for it is just as powerful as the desire and drive to have sex. So to the mountains we went, where trees for fires grows, where animals that provide delicious milk and meat and even wool can eat the grass in the valleys, can live and be grown in herds. It’s a halfway point. High enough to keep dragon friends and keep us safe and keep a food and water source. But still on the ground and have contact with merchants who bring food to us, in exchange for said gold.” She explained. 

“So do you really live on that mountain?” He asked before he pointed to it from his window. 

“Technically on the other side of it but yes. We haven't built anything on this side because the Great Dragons have told us that that is this kingdom’s territory and we don't wish to encroach on it, not unless we can either buy it or come to some other arrangement with your kingdom for it. Most of the mountains we call home are inaccessible by anyone else and unclaimed by anyone else. So we claim them as ours, but you had built this civilization here before we made a home in those mountains.” She answered. 

“How long did it take to fly here?” He asked. 

“Eh, not even an hour?” She shrugged. 

“Huh. So, where did you camp at?” He asked. 

“You know those really tall pillars of islands on your shoreline?” She asked as she pointed eastward. 

“Did you camp on top of those?” He guessed. 

“Yup. They’re pretty perfect. Had really nice trees and all kinds of plants and mini forests on the top of them. And because this is more of a dragonborn city. It meant we could camp there safely without being disturbed because dragonkin have wings but tend to stay near the city center where the Great Dragons are because the Great Dragons have the most magic. To the point, we were pretty ignored by the dragonkin when we first came. Apparently we hide our magic well enough that we were practically invisible to them when we flew right by them in our bird form.” She answered with a shrug. 

“So…do you..have a family at home? Like a house with a family of your own that I’m keeping you from?” Kalmeak asked, now worried that she’d have a greater reason to leave than to stay. 

“I have parents and siblings. But not a mate, nor child of my own.” She reassured him with an easy smile. 

“Oh, good.” He blew out a breath of relief. 

“Would you want to be mine?” He immediately asked before he could stop himself. 

“Well that depends.” She began before she licked her fingers clean after piling the rest of her food onto her spoon. 

“On?” He asked. 

“Do dragonborn lay eggs or are they livebearers?” She asked. 

“Usually the female will lay a clutch of fertilized eggs, but once they hatch, then they nurse for a while and then eat solid food. But the half dragons, it depends on what the other half is.” He explained.

“Mouras are live bearers. And from what I’ve seen, if a species is an egg layer, mouras will bear them live young, still nurse though and look like any other, except they’re usually born with this.” She said as she touched the gold necklace still around her neck and almost imbedded into her skin. 

“And while they still look like the other parent, there’s certain things they still get from the moura parent regardless. Usually their own gifts, enhanced quite a bit.” She seemed to hint with a grin that bordered on scheming that had Kalmeak ready to find out for himself, as soon as she finished eating. 

“So if a male mates with a female and she bears young does that make the couple a mated pair for like a season? A year? Or longer? For like- life?” She asked next. 

“Depends on the couple and depends on what they want and decide. Most will be a mated pair, produce a clutch of eggs, and then raise the clutch until they’re old enough to either go with the mother if they’re female or male if the children are male and continue to learn from the parent they share a sex with. But only some do that. More and more are choosing to stay together their whole lives. My parents simply always stayed together because they genuinely like each other and wanted to stay together, even after myself and my siblings hatched and they raised us well into adulthood and now there are 3 generations living together in the same household, since my other siblings have children here now too. And even after we left home, they continued to mate and lay more clutches of eggs together and raise them together to adulthood too. My youngest siblings are only a couple years older than my own nieces and nephews.” He answered. 

“Like most dragons usually do.” She smiled in approval. 

“So this big house and the nobility thing had nothing to do with it?” She asked once she gestured to his surroundings. 

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. The only reason we have it is my mom got it from her family line. And so we have it through her. But the fact that my dad didn’t have any nobility himself, was a relief to her. He is in the army. And commands thousands of soldiers. And trains them, even though we are not at war right now. We are ready, just in case.” He shook his head no. 

“Good.” She nodded before a bird came to the window and made a trill sound before she gave one back before the bird came in and in an instant transformed into her friend from the previous night. 

“Kalmeak, meet my cousin- Zhallia. Zhallia, meet Kalmeak. I see you got some bite marks too.” Kallura introduced as she smiled and nodded to her cousin’s shoulders. 

“Hi, nice to meet you.” She politely shook his hand before Kallura tried to bribe her with food to stay and talk for a moment before they started to talk in their mother tongue with each other, but talked so fast, Kalmeak’s mind had a hard time keeping up before Zhallia said something that Kallura repeated with her eyebrows raised as Zhallia took the offered food and practically paced in place as she seemed upset and panicked by something as she ate and talked at almost a frantic pace. 

“Maybe I should let you two have some space to talk privately.” He excused himself as he picked up his pants from the floor and used them to cover himself as he went to the bathroom to get changed before Zhallia sat down in his chair and was clearly eating between bits of conversation before Kallura seemed to suggest something that got Zhallia from reeling and stop spinning in her speech and take a moment to really think, just as they finished off the platter of food.

Kallura was using that same, serene and calm tone as she slowed down her speech and talked the issue through with her cousin before Zhallia seemed calmed and agreed and flew out again and Kalmeak burst from his bathroom to see Kallura still there, trying to make the bed, and somehow miraculously redressed in something else as she held up what she had once tied around her with the rest of the bedding. 

“Oh good, you’re still here. You didn’t fly off too.” He blew out a breath of relief to still see her there. 

“No. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye at least. That would be incredibly rude.” She maintained as she then looked at his shredded bedding in her hands and was trying to appraise it. 

“Oh, don’t worry about the bedding. It’s not unusual for it to be ruined after um, well, last night.” He said as he pulled the shredded bedding off the bed and pulled a new set of bedding out of a closet and then began to make his own bed, which Kallura helped him do. Which he nearly broke down crying because it was just something so beautifully mundane, yet made practically a magical ritual because of who he was performing this task with.

“I see. Happen that often does it?” She asked, in a light teasing tone as she helped put the pillow her head had laid on in a new pillow case.  

“Uh, actually no. This is the first time it’s happened, with um, me. Happens all the time with my parents and my siblings, most of their budget goes into buying bedding and the old bedding is used for the nest of eggs.” He confessed. 

“I see.” She smiled. 

“So um, do you, do you need to leave now?” He asked as his hands fidgeted once he made his part of the bed, leaving her to do the same as he came around to wait for her to finish pulling the blanket up as his nerves starting to fray as his heart felt like it was going to rip into a million pieces if she decided to leave and never come back again. 

“Do you want me to? I thought you wanted me to stay?” She posed. 

“I do want you to stay. But only if you want to stay, for as long as you want to.” He answered. 

“Ok, let me go get my things from the island real quick and check in on my other friends and family and I’ll be back for dinner? Because they all got spread out all around the city.” She proposed. 

“I’ll be here, patiently waiting.” He vowed. 

“Dragonborn sure do fall in love pretty fast don’t you?” Kallura asked as she playfully narrowed her eyes and crinkled her nose at him in the most adorable fashion as he just couldn’t help but rope her into his embrace as she was happy to let her arms do the same to him. 

“Usually this kind of thing is decided for us and we’re matched by our parents and the clan leaders.” He admitted. 

“So I’m your first choice you made on your own?” Kallura asked as her head tilted to the side. 

“Yes, and it’s one I strongly feel I’ll never regret for as long as I live.” Kalmeak insisted. 

“Aww. Then that's a great reason for me to choose to stay. As long as you’ll want me to, that is.” She offered. 

“I think I’d rather go blind, deaf and dumb before I decide to ever turn you away.” He resolutely decided which got her to giggle again before she kissed him sweetly. 

“Ok. I’ll be back by sunset.” She grinned before she transformed into a bird right before his eyes and out fo his arms and flew right out of his window and began to fly around at top speed before he went to his family, his mother still at the table, with his various siblings and their own mates there still leisurely eating breakfast. All of his brothers and sisters and their mates sporting renewed bite marks on their shoulders and pleasured grins.

“How’d you guys know about her?” He asked his mother as he held up the note to them as his mother looked particularly pleased while his father had already left for the army complex. 

"You made it hard to miss." His brothers teased as their mother gave them a meaningful look before she patted the place next to her at the head of the table. 

“Because that was the first young lady that ever made you smile that happily before. And so, out of curiosity. I started to ask around. And was pointed to the Great Dragons themselves who told me just about everything I could ever want to know about her. They got to see her through my eyes to tell me more about her as an individual and her people. But, by the time I got home, you had already taken her to your rooms. And, judging from the sounds that came from that part of the house…" She began before all his siblings broke out into snickering laughter. 

"I knew it was useless fighting it so, why not embrace? Besides, with how highly the Great Dragons praised her and her kind. I’d be a fool to be against it. And apparently, she isn’t the first of her kind to come here. But last night was the first time where royalty let them into the palace. Apparently Miss Kallura’s cousin of all people won one of the prince's eyes, well at least a few of them at least.” She grinned. 

“Zhallia.” Kalmeak realized as he couldn’t stop himself from smiling from realizing just how small such a huge world could be. 

“Oh so you met her?” She asked. 

“Yeah, she…she found Kallura this morning. Freaked out about it apparently.” He revealed as he came over to snack on other plates of breakfast. 

“Well, hopefully you invited Kallura to stay. And all you need now is the Great Dragon’s blessing. Which there is already a line clear through the entire temple complex to get today. According to the others, because apparently there were over a hundred if not a couple hundred of them here for the festival. Specifically invited here by their own dragons who have come to call our nation home- to attend the festival. Because apparently there were too many daughters born to the closest city that’s apparently just on that mountain that our empire owns the south side of. And that left an entire generation of young ladies, eager to seek out a mate who may not be of the same kind they are. Which worked out perfectly because almost all the clutches in your generation were male heavy anyway. Most had the same ratios your father and I had. One daughter among 6 or 7 or even 8 or 9 sons. It seemed the Great Dragons were searching the world for us and brought us the perfect daughters to marry our sons. So myself and all the others are quite pleased they chose us and our empire to find a good mate. Apparently the other dragon folk have had great success and happiness with interbreeding them so far.” She praised. 

“Mom, it’s her choice to go or stay.” He repeated. 

“Oh I know that Dear. I know. Hopefully she’ll choose to stay.” She smiled hopefully as she patted her hand over his arm. 

“So you’re not…disappointed, I didn’t choose another dragonborn female? One that the Wisened ones would have chosen for me?” He asked before his other siblings seemed to snort another teasing laugh while they ate. 

“Nope. Relieved honestly. Because the only ones of your generation still available, have been overly pampered and are overly demanding and are especially spoiled and have demanded only the richest and highest of nobility and royalty to court them. On the other hand, the gold angels…”

“They’re called mouras Mom.” He respectfully corrected. 

“Ah yes, they did say- to mention gold- makes them nervous. Mouras, yes, they are apparently- perfect parents. Very loving, very nurturing. And because of their species, they enhance anything they choose to interbreed with. If and when she decides to come back, she’ll make an excellent addition to the family and the clan. Especially since our family won’t be the only one to get one added to their family." She waived off. 

"And I heard that they’re live bearers too.  Which could mean that the connection between a mother and child is just as close as any of us would have, if not closer. And they have an exquisite sense of community too. So all in all, they’re culturally very similar to us. And other than her not having scales, she should fit right in.” His sister in law happily added. 

"Oh really? That would be wonderful." His mom beamed happily. 

“Mom, she will not be a bank for her to turn whatever we would place in her hands- into gold." Kalmeak insisted. 

“Oh I would never ask her to, besides that would devastate the economy, don’t you think? Besides, we have all the wealth we need. All I ask is that if you are lucky enough to impregnate her, stay with her and see for yourself what kind of woman she will continually prove to be. I have no issue with your choice, if anything I’m quite proud of you for taking the initiative with her once you discerned she was something incredibly special.” His mother reassured him. 

“What does Dad think about all of this?” He asked, still in shock. Thinking his Noble Mother would turn her nose up at the fact that Kallura wasn’t dragonborn. But on the contrary, she seemed pleased and eager to add Kallura to her ever growing family as his nieces and nephews seemed to wake up and wander to the table to get breakfast themselves one even coming directly to his mother’s lap to do so. 

“Oh he only cares about your happiness, as do I. But he does ask that you at least finish your basic training requirements before you go into whichever avenue of business you wish to.” She answered as she pulled her granddaughter to her lap and helped cut up her food for her. “Really?” Kalmeak asked, feeling like this was almost too good to be true. 

“Oh yes, he was quite proud of you for using your powers of deduction to see that Kallura and her kind were so much more than they appeared to be.” She insisted as Kalmeak continued to give the surroundings a reluctant and weary look as his brain wrapped around his new circumstances. 

“It’s ok, truly. We’re both happy and we are both proud of you. Besides, it’s hard to imagine that you let her leave the house unmarked.” She appraised as she continued to snack on her breakfast as his siblings all gave churrs of approval and agreement as the kids began to giggle. 

Kalmeak’s string of unintelligible words and sounds but with gestures clearly showed how flustered he still was about Kallura but still had to admit, he had been exceedingly pleased to see her marked up that morning. 

“Thought so.” She and her other children all seemed to grin at each other. 

“Kalmeak, really, it’s ok. We approve, we’re happy and we’re proud. We have always just wanted you to be happy and to bring honor to the clan and to the family.” She reassured her son. 

“Now, I take it your bedding got trashed.” She ventured. 

“Yes.” He confessed. 

“Well, while I doubt you’ll need to make a nest with it. I’m sure we could make clothes out of it nonetheless, unless it's more shredded and resembling a mass of threads than anything.” She furthered. 

“If she’s even pregnant, and that’s a huge if.” Kalmeak reminded his mom. 

“Fine, if she isn’t that’s fine. And if she wants to bring you home to introduce you to her family. That’s fine too. And if you want to take this relationship nice and slow, go for it. But I would like to see some grandkids from you guys eventually. Because the Erzidions have had the most darling grandchildren who are the most remarkable dragonlings the nation has seen, they regained their wings have the prettiest colors to their scales. And are unusually intelligent and gifted.” She smiled with a shrug. 

“What if any kids we would have wouldn’t be anything like that?” He posed. 

“They would still be loved and cherished same as all the others.” She reassured him. 

“Is something wrong?” She asked as her son looked like his own mind was overwhelming him while a giddy smile grew on his lips as he seemed to ponder fathering all kinds of offspring with Kallura had him hoping, wishing and praying she would come back to him. 

“No, just…only a day ago, I was feeling pity for myself that I was single for the Dragon Heart Flower Festival and then I saw her, I saw Kallura, through a crowd and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen before. And we just…we played like we were kids- playing hide and seek with tag and chase. And it was suddenly the best Dragon Heart Flower Festival I have ever been to in my life. And it’s like, in a single moment, everything I always thought I wanted, planned for, or envisioned for myself, didn’t matter. And then she was something I never knew I somehow, secretly, always wanted, and not just wanted but needed- was suddenly before me and it didn't matter if she was not a dragonborn or not. But it was like, our bodies didn't matter, just us as individual people did. And with just a kiss, it was like she had me, heart, mind and soul, and it made perfect sense without making any sense at all. And now, the more it’s supposed to make sense. I’m having a hard time grasping and wrapping my head around it." Kalmeak admitted bashfully. 

"Is it because you're expecting to fight us on this? And now that there's no fight, you're confused?" His brother questioned. 

"Maybe? Yeah, probably." Kalmeak realized.

"But now, I’m scared that I am, somehow pressuring her or pushing myself onto her. Even though she’s been crystal clear about what she wants and that I was her choice to make last night, just as much as she was mine. Just like it’s her choice to come back if she wants to. And yet, I’m terrified that I’m not good enough for something as amazing as her. And that, reaching for her, is like reaching for the stars themselves. Always something to be seen from a great distance but never something to be touched. And now that I have touched the heavens. I’m terrified I’m falling back down and just don’t know it yet. But I have no wings to help me fly. Just a body to fall and splat on the ground.” He worried as he held his head in his hands. 

“Oh you poor love sick Kit!” His mom and his siblings all cooed to him as they reached out to give reassuring pats to his shoulders. 

“Mom!” He complained. 

“Did she say she’d be back?” His mother asked. 

“Yes, at sunset.” He answered. 

“Then take her at her word, just as surely as she can take you at yours.” She encouraged him. 

“But that also means you have a lot of work to do today to prepare for that, your apartment is that of a bachelor, you'll need to make changes and accommodations for her and yourself as a couple and move out of the barracks. Here, funds for the cause.” She reminded him as she slid him a check for funds to turn his barely used except on the weekends and vacations apartment into a proper home as he took it and pocketed the check and went to do just that. 

“Yup!” He suddenly sprung from that seat and went to his barracks and moved out of them, and then moved fully back into his own apartments and bought what was left in the markets and even made orders for more things, like sets of bedding in various colors and other household supplies. He spent the rest of the day deep cleaning his place and then rearranging it so that the two of them could live here comfortably, and maybe, hopefully, share it with a dozen kids since most dragonborn had clutches of 9-12 kids at a time. He got them ready to share with his mate- and hopefully his future family with Kallura, when she would get back. Trying to busy himself with such preparations and could only hope she would like what she found when she would get back. 

The sun had yet to even touch the horizon before he heard a fluttering of wings before he saw her flying in, with several bags all around her before she practically fell into a heap of stuff just inside the room. 

“Sorry, I packed a lot more than I thought I did.” She apologized as he helped take the various packs off of her so she could get up. 

“It’s ok. I don’t care if I have to scale that island and get it all myself. I’m just so happy you’re back!” He said as he finally enveloped her in a tight hug when she was finally freed of her various items. 

"I missed you too." She offered with a bit of laugh as she seemed to hug him just as tightly before she looked past him to see how the space that was his apartment had changed slightly since she was here only that morning. Because it was now very well lit, it was much bigger than she thought it had been. 

“Did your apartment get bigger?” She asked once she pulled away to get a better look at it. 

“Oh, no, it’s just um, better lit now. Do you like it? If there is anything in here you don’t like I can change it to something that you do.” He offered anxiously as he took a tiny step back and then gestured to the rest of it worriedly. 

“Kalmeak, look at me.” She invited before she turned away from it and back to him as she reached up to frame his handsome face in her hands. 

“I’m staying because I love you too. Not because you’re noble, not because you live in a mansion. Not because you may or may not be wealthy. You and just you. I came back for you. I brought a bunch of stuff, thinking that I only had a limited space to work with. That’s all. As long as you’re happy with me, I’m happy with you. You chose me. I choose you. I chose you yesterday and I chose you today and I’ll keep choosing you tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that too ok? Take a deep breath, breathe. Be calm. No need to be so nervous. I’m not gonna vanish on you.” She reassured him before she kissed him sweetly. 

“Yeah but you could have had any other. You could have had a prince like your cousin. I’m…I’m nothing special.” He admitted. 

“The whole royalty thing is off putting if you could believe it.” She informed him. 

“Why?” He asked, surprised by that. 

“Because not all moura are mountain moura. There are royal moura. But they are from Dorierra which is a country on the other side of the world. They only sell royal moura women to any prince who wants one. My cousin feels panicked and unworthy because she is not royal or noble, just the way I am not royal or noble. Because mountain moura do not believe in such things. And heavenly moura are nothing but royal and noble because they have nothing better to be than that. I feel that nobility should be in a person’s character, not their bloodline. And I came back to you because you are of noble character and that is all that has mattered to me since I met you.” Kallura explained as Kalmeak felt so incredibly humbled that he started to cry before she cooed and kissed his tears away before he hugged her as tight as he dared and her back cracked before he loosened up. 

“Sorry, sorry. Too tight. I don’t know my own strength sometimes.” He quickly apologized. 

“Don’t apologize, that felt really good, my back was out of alignment and needed that.”  As she hugged him just as tight as before before he tightened his hold on her again and was just happy to stand and hold her in his arms for several long moments before their breathing and heart rate began to synchronize and only once he fully trusted that she wasn’t going to leave again and wasn’t dreaming, did he finally relax and finally breathe easy. 

“There we go. Now, help me unpack.” She urged once he did as she pulled away and picked up a special pot with a special plant growing out of it. 

“What is that?” He asked. 

“This is a sapling of my elder tree from home. Do we have a place in a protected garden where we can plant this?” She asked. 

“Yes. Right this way.” He invited as he showed her the family’s private garden and where his personal plot in it was as she planted it there and then took a knife out and was about to cut her hand. 

“Ah!” He yelped and reached and pulled the knife from her hand to keep her from hurting herself. 

“What are you doing?” He asked as the knife then transformed to a feather in his hands. 

“Making our union permanent?” She answered. 

“By cutting yourself?” He asked as he seemed reluctant to give the feather back to her. 

“This is a perfume tree. It needs blood in the soil in order for it to take root. It needs our blood together to do so. It’s my elder tree. We all give it our moon blood. To keep feeding it and nourishing it. Just like you and I need our blood to stay alive. It doesn’t however need too much. Just a little bit. I was going to heal myself and you after. Do you not want this?” She asked. 

“No, I want us, I just don’t want you to be hurt.” He clarified. 

“But doesn’t childbirth hurt?” She asked him. 

“It does.” He confirmed, rather reluctantly. 

“But isn’t the new life worth the pain?” She reasoned as she scooted closer to him as they knelt in the dirt as she dipped her head to look up into his face. 

“It is.” He confirmed. “So is this. This tree will only grow and give us sustaining life if we do the same. It’s not asking for a person’s life to be sacrificed. It’s just asking for a little blood. Blood I’m ready and willing to give. Are you?” She asked. 

“For you? I am.” He confirmed as he handed her the feather back and watched as it became a smaller blade in her hand. 

“There. Put your hand above mine, like this.” She moved his hand before her palm under his so that the bend in her palm would line up with his own as she moved so that she knelt in front of him as his other hand wrapped around her waist. 

“Ready, now the vow is ‘with this life blood, I give life with my mate’. Can you repeat that?” She asked. 

“With this life blood, I give life with my mate’.” He repeated. 

“Ok, now, we’re going to say that again, but as we say it, I will cut your palm and then mine, your blood will drip down your palm and down my own and into the hole we dug. Then we will plant the sapling and then I’ll heal you and myself. You ready?” She coached. 

“Yeah.” He nodded and braced himself. 

“With this life blood, I give life with my mate.” They said in unison as the blade sliced from his palm to hers as they held their hand over the center of the hole and let some blood trickle down into the hole before she reached for the plant, putting her still bleeding hand over the bark of the small sapling as he realized she had already cut it with the blade just after she cut their hands and gripped it with her and reached around and over her to help pull it from the pot and plant it into the hole as the sap began to get into the wound and he was surprised when all the pain left his hand and the moment she pulled her hand back. Their blood had mixed with the white sap of the tree and their hands now had a stripe of white sap over the wound, and was healing it as she used her other hand to push down more soil around the base as he did the same as the sap became almost like a rubber or even a paint over the wound that kept anything else from getting into it they used all four of their hands to help bury the roots of the sapling before she kissed his cheek sweetly as his head came to rest over her shoulder as he pulled her to sit down into his lap once the sapling was planted before he kissed her back sweetly and appreciated the sheer beauty of her and the tree. 

“So what’s a perfume tree?” He asked. “A perfume tree is a tree that gives you flowers that are perfect to make perfume with. Or soaps or candles or especially incense with.” “We have merchants who travel all over and have incense of all kinds that they sell to all the temples. And special perfume oils to the perfumers. I think my mother and my sisters in law have bottles of it that they wear on special occasions.” He answered. 

“Nice, well with this, we can now make our own and sell it to others for any price that you feel is fair. Because again, I’m still learning your money system.” She invited. 

“Oh, ok. Wow. Well that solves that then.” He seemed pleasantly surprised. 

“Solves what?” She asked. “What avenue of business I was going to go into once I graduate from my basic military training. Every male in the nation receives at least some basic self defense. Most enlist to get official military training, others more can graduate from basic training into more specialized training. But I was not really drawn to such teachings. And before I met you, I wasn’t sure at all what I was going to do with my life once I graduated. But now, thanks to you. Now I do. I want to help you to care for this tree and it’s blooms for whatever purpose you’d like. As you can see there are many dragon heart trees here. I know the butter from the seed of the fruit is great for soaps and conditioners. So we will have that as an ingredient we don’t have to buy to make that as well.” He realized. 

“Perfect.” She grinned happily as she was content to simply sit in Kalmeak’s lap and embrace, happy to rest against his strong body, and have her sapling taking to the soil. The blood that dripped from his hand to hers, told her that their future children would be quite magnificent, when they would come. 

“Hello.” Kalmeak’s mother and father greeted once they came into the garden to see Kalmeak with his otherwise rather bare plot before the pair turned to see them and she got to see her new daughter in law. 

“Hello. I’m Kallura, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kallura pleasantly greeted once she got up with Kalmeak to officially meet his parents. 

“The pleasure is all ours. I’m Kalmeak’s mother Thriadrian, you can call me Theda though, and this is his father, Lianxuas, or Lian for short. So what did you plant in the garden?” She asked as they came over and gestured to the sapling. “Oh it’s a sapling of my elder tree from home. It’s a perfume tree. The flowers can be used for all many of things that need a pleasant scent.” She explained. “Oh how wonderful!” Theda cooed happily as she came over to appreciate the small sapling. “So will it need anything to help it grow?” She asked. 

“Do the women in the family have a moon blood? Like bleed when they are not pregnant? Or perhaps, gravid?” She asked. 

“It is considered- gravid, and yes we do.” Theda answered, granted with a bit more surprise because such a subject wasn’t exactly “polite” to talk about openly in mixed company. 

“Well if you could please put such blood on this tree, it needs the nourishment, even if it’s older and dying blood.” She gestured to the tree. “Really? Oh, ok. Of course, we can do that, certainly.” Theda readily agreed, not expecting that such things could actually be useful to anyone or anything, other than to prove that a woman was not gravid with fertile eggs. 

“Thank you.” Kallura answered. 

“Well we have dinner inside, if you’d like to join us and meet the rest of the family.” Lian invited. “Yes please.” Kallura nodded as she took Kalmeak’s arm and walked with him back into the main part of the house where the rest of his family was, eagerly waiting to meet her and welcome her into the family as Kallura took a special interest in all the kids, having younger siblings about their sizes and ages as they seemed to be in awed wonder at how ‘angelic’ she was as they shared with her, their lesson books to help her learn draconic like they were in schooling lessons, as she helped to teach them marinai and common better. They were the most patient in helping her learn to say the different sounds that went into their names as she learned there was an informal name they had when they were very young and then a more “proper” name they would use when they would grow up and be known to more than just their family. As Kallura got to learn Kalmeak’s childhood name. Nipper. Which Kallura thought was just adorable, and if anything, fitting as they shared a large and quite lavish family banquet as Kallura was delighted that she was welcomed as warmly as she was sure Kalmeak would be when he’d meet her family when they would come and visit.

[pallas-cat]

HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SNOWSHOE ONCE BECAUSE I MISSED THE SINGLE ACTUAL BLIZZARD OF THE YEAR OH MY GOD

[specspectacle]

My nose is like a faucet for mucus and it feels like the handle is broken in the ‘on’ position.