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augustinewrites · 2 years

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listening to the amurta darshan’s faculty argue over budgets is positively mind-numbing, and alhaitham can feel his brain cells dying off with each agonizing minute that ticks by.

this is only his second meeting as the acting grand sage, but he’s already looking forward to retiring. he’s been mapping out his retirement plan for the last ten minutes, actually. he’ll move to liyue, build a house on a very, very high mountaintop, and spend his days reading from sunrise to sunset—

“acting grand sage, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

listening to petty squabbles between old men in his capacity as the scribe is one thing, but having to direct the squabbles is wholly another.

he sits up, doing his best to shake the stupor from his mind before quickly glancing down at the notes his assistant places in front of him.

“naphis,” he says, genuinely surprised. “you intend to relinquish your position as sage?”

alhaitham isn’t truly listening when amurta’s (now former) sage produces an explanation. the next step is to find a solution. find a new sage. naphis’ long-winded soliloquy about ‘ushering in the new generation’ and ‘starting anew’ were simply redundant.

he tunes back into the conversation when naphis says, “i’d like to recommend a former student of mine. tighnari.”

alhaitham knows tighnari. would even go as far as to say he likes him. “of the avidya forest watchers, yes,” he murmurs. “i will reach out.”

he glances over at you when you shift in your seat, glancing at him with that look in your eyes. the one that tells him you have something you want to say.

but then one of the faculty members begins a highly dramaticized account of an lab incident in pardis dhyai that “demands” the proper allocation of funds, and he sighs, realizing this will have to be addressed another time.

_____

the next few days are busy, as the shift of power within the akademiya demands near the entirety of his attention. that, combined with his reluctance to bring work home, lead him to follow up with you a week after the amurta faculty meeting.

“what were you going to tell me?”

“hm?” you roll onto your side to face him, eyes barely open, considering it’s two in the morning. “when?”

he feels bad for waking you, knowing you’re exhausted from a twelve hour shift at the bimarstan. but he’d been penning his letter to tighnari earlier, and couldn’t stop pondering what you’d wanted to tell him last week.

“at the meeting,” he clarifies. “you were giving me…a look.”

“i give you lots of looks,” you yawn, nudging your face further into your pillow. “you are quite handsome.”

“don’t be cute,” he mutters, hoping the darkness of the room hides his blush. “you were looking at me like you knew something i didn’t.”

you blink a few times as the memory comes back. “which time? i give you that look multiple times a day, darling.”

normally, he finds your sass to be quite a turn on. just not when it’s directed at him. “the first time.”

“when you were talking about research grants?”

“not that time,” he frowns. “but— what do you know about that?”

“nothing,” you say much too quickly, but then you lean over, cupping his chin and looking him in the eye. “but when someone so, so pretty and extremely smart submits a grant application…”

“i will set up a private channel just for your submissions,” he promises.

“i was actually talking about kaveh, but that is very much appreciated. we do need new stethoscopes.” you pat his cheek a little harder than necessary, smiling.

“wait, kaveh?” he asks. “really?”

“oh yes,” you nod. “he was talking about an affordable housing project the other night. if the akademiya could spare the funds, he could even move into one of said houses himself…”

“finally admitting you want him to leave?”

“haitham, he used that last of that face cream i bought in fontaine and keeps moving our furniture around. i don’t just want him to leave, i need him to leave. remember when he organized your bookshelves by colour?”

oh, he remembers, trust him. “i’ll have amani pull his application for review first thing tomorrow.”

“a most wise decision,” you hum, about to roll back around when he gently grips your arm.

“we’re not done. i was talking about when i mentioned reaching out to tighnari.”

“oh, that look,” you blink. “he won’t accept the position.”

his brows raise in surprise, because who in their right mind would deny the role of sage? “and you know this how?”

“because we’re friends,” you tell him matter-of-factly. “and i know he’s made a commitment to lead the forest watchers. he’s doing good work there, along withconducting his research. i doubt he’d want to be saddled with a desk job on top of that. let alone one with the akademiya.”

“okay,” he shrugs. if you say he doesn’t want the job, then he doesn’t want the job. there’s no need to delve further into the specifics. “you know the amurta faculty better than i do. who should i ask?”

this time you send him a flat look, pulling away from him and taking the duvet with you. “haitham, i’ve entertained your poor attempt at pillow talk thus far, but if you wish to continue discussing this so bad, why don’t you go find amani? i’m sure she’d love to spend the night with you.”

he rolls his eyes, trying and failing to reclaim the duvet. “jealousy is quite the unbecoming trait, you know.”

“go to sleep, acting grand sage.”

alhaitham shuts up, because, well, you’d titled him. that was a warning sign in itself that he’d deprived you of your sleep for long enough. but you don’t protest as he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, still overthinking. his mind won’t rest until he finds a solution.

“stop overthinking it,” you mutter into your pillow. “you’ll figure something out. you always do.”

you’re right, he realizes. maybe the solution is right in front of him.

_____

alhaitham is halfway through reading kaveh’s application when he hears your muffled threats to his assistant right outside his door.

“move, amani. or i’ll make you!”

amani has a much better sense of self-preservation than he thought, because it’s not a second later that his office doors burst open, and you let yourself in.

“when i told you that you’d figure it out, i didn’t mean this!” you exclaim, waving his letter in his face.

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it in an attempt to placate you, murmuring, “you don’t want to be a sage?”

“of course i do,” you huff, snatching your hand back. “but— but i’m—”

“the logical choice,” he finishes for you, folding his hands atop his desk. “you obtained two degrees before 25, your thesis on elemental healing techniques is the gold standard, you’re the head of medical and you’re decently versed in botany.”

“botany?” you repeat incredulously. “so maybe the neighbors are jealous of our garden and tighnari taught me how to use naku weed to make special brownies that one time–”

“they were very good brownies,” he assures you. “and you’re still an excellent candidate.”

you go off again, listing off all the reasons why it shouldn’t be you, but all that alhaitham sees is someone who is brave enough to hold their own in council meetings and even yell at the acting grand sage. you’re perfect.

even you sigh unnecessarily loud, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“i don’t intend to, no.”

you’re silent for a long minute, clenching your jaw so hard that alhaitham worries for your teeth.

“i want to make my own hours,” you tell him firmly. “i’m not going to be tied to a desk all day.”

that was something he could certainly get on board with himself. “fine. anything else?”

“give me the day to think on it,” you shrug, moving to sit on the edge of his desk. alhaitham slides his chair back so your knees fit between his legs. “you really think i can do this?”

“the pros of you being amurta’s sage greatly outweigh the cons, so yes.”

you fix him with a long-suffering look. “what were the cons?”

alhaitham thought himself an intelligent man, but he very nearly opens his mouth to answer your question before realizing the answer will likely end with him sleeping on the couch tonight. he chooses to keep his mouth shut, earning himself a little kiss before you sign the contract on his desk.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin impact fluff

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harmonysanreads · 1 year

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Sumeru hexagon brainrot because I've been rewatching the recent event scenes but also expanding on the one thing of darling being a commentator as well!

I'm thinking of darling freaking out watching the boys trying to hurt each other and especially after Kaveh deals with the diadem they rush towards him and begin fawning over him super worried about him being hurt. (Subtle side glare to wanderer as well for being real rough on the poor boy's side. That ameno blast got him good!)

And Kaveh is so dramatic he'd definitely play it up some more to bask in the undivided attention. And then him learning of what exactly happened to his dad? Darling gets a drunk Kaveh at her doorstep in the middle of the night and ends up caring for him more.

Of course as a thank you Kaveh invites her for a meal (and pays for it! Thanks to Cyno buying the card). Instead of inviting them to the meal with Cyno and Tighnari because he'd be able to have darling to himself. (But we know how resourceful those other boys are and they may or may not have found out and crashed the date).

[ au masterlist ]

If Kaveh had a mora for everytime his advances faced subjugation, he'd have... a lot of mora.

At this point, he can't say he's surprised at the turn of events. If anything, it's Kaveh's failure for not expecting it and taking necessary precautions. Oh well, he just wanted to share a nice meal with you! Was that so much to ask for??

Apparently.

“[Name], I told you, you should've left him outside last night instead of inviting him over. See the look he's giving me!” the hatted boy Kaveh's seen hanging by your person more often than not side eyes him, “whispering” not so discreetly but very purposefully by your ear, a hand raised in mock cover and all the shebang. Kaveh's left eye twitches as he struggles to keep the amiable smile on his face, hands curling into fists beneath the table as his eyes meet coy blue ones.

“I think Hat Guy here has a point, you look unnecessarily agitated, Kaveh.” chimes in a certain scholar seated on your right, Tighnari and Cyno take an eager sip of their drinks at the sight.

Kaveh's carefully maintained countenance almost shatters at the comment, but a look at your face has him halt at the last second, he promised to keep himself in check, he reminds himself. The sheer audacity of these kids! Crashing on his moment and then blaming him for getting annoyed?

“Well, why do you think I am as agitated as I look?” the architect points a fork towards the Scribe from across the table.

“Simple, because you cannot keep your emotions in check.”

“That's it, I've had—”

“Enough, you two.”

Kaveh freezes in his position as your words still the chatters. Yet, the tension in the air only becomes more tangible as five pairs of eyes await your next course of action.

You gently remove the hatted boy's arm from yours (ignoring his reluctance to let go), shifting to address each of the men, “Kaveh has a valid point for being irritated, after all, you four did barge in uninvited. But we're not strangers, so there shouldn't be an issue for us to cooperate and make the most of this meal. Right, Kaveh?”

The addressed architect sits back down with a huff, acquiescing with a heated ‘fine’ after some deliberation. With your declaration, everyone relaxes in various degrees. It's not until Tighnari quips up does the silence break, “[Name] is right, you know. We're all friends, do we really need permission to join each other?”

The ex-harbinger notices the General Mahamatra look at the Forest Ranger by the corner of his eye, the impish tone of Tighnari's words is just noticeable enough for everyone to catch but not to comment on, how interesting.

“Well, it wouldn't hurt to let your friends know beforehand, either, right?” the architect shots back.

Cyno takes over unexpectedly, “Of course not. But I'm with Tighnari on this, friends trust each other enough to let down boundaries. It's not like we have any other intention except wanting to spend time with each other, so what is there to get worked up for?”

“There is a reason to get worked up because I was on a da—”

Kaveh chokes back his words midway, the air suddenly feeling electric. He dares not look, he doesn't need to, for he can feel the men's eyes piercing through his soul at the slip up.

“You were on a da...?” Tighnari urges and despite not following, you find yourself holding your breath.

“I was on a, on a.. da.. da..dat—”

Kaveh makes the mistake of looking right and the sight of a pulsating anemo vision has him gulp.

“—dessert! I was on my dessert! Oh goodness, this thing is delicious! Why would you all interrupt me enjoying it? Hahaha.”

The electricity dissipates without a trace, the air suddenly much easier to breath in. You're left there blinking, not really grasping the point of that exchange as Kaveh gobbles up a random sweet treat to affirm his words. Cyno and Tighnari exchange triumphant glances and Alhaitham goes back to his book, Hat Guy leans back in his seat and Kaveh heaves a sigh of relief.

What a close call.

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inconveniently-discorporated · 9 months

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So I was watching Doctor Who, and something about this part from Twelve and Clara really struck me in the Good Omens. (And yes it's been awhile but obviously spoilers.)

Specifically, it was the part after the Clara memory wipe where Twelve basically says that he doesn't directly remember her, but he can fill in the details based on the holes they left behind.

And that reminded me exactly of this part:

This is how I feel about Crowley's memory.

Now, I may be wrong, but the whole "I don't remember you" parts are really suspicious to me. At first, I simply took it as him being cheeky or purposely snubbing certain people, and a lot of people interpret those scenes that way. However, I feel like he seems genuinely unable to remember them. This scene in particular strikes me as him speaking from experience -- something in his tone.

Say you move all the furniture out of a room -- you might still have indents in the carpet where a couch and table would've gone, and one can thus imagine how big of a couch and where people set their drinks. On the wall, a square of paint a few shades lighter than the rest -- there was probably a picture there. In the kitchen, there is no refrigerator, but you know that houses usually have one and you see where one would go, and you also see a water line, so it was probably a fridge that dispensed ice cubes and water.

See also: the fact that Gabriel doesn't know who Aziraphale is, but he knows how Aziraphale makes people feel, and thus he seeks him out for help. Looking at the outlines on the wall, the indentations in the carpet.

Kind of like doing an escape room. You get a set of directions -- hmm, what do you do with that? Oh look, you have a directional lock. Or maybe you have a password-like phrase from Heaven bouncing around your head but nowhere it fits. Oh look, you have a password-shaped hole that belongs to this folder.

Maybe there's different kinds of memory mucking -- like maybe there's "forget everything you ever were" and maybe there's "forget everyone you ever knew" (which would be quite interesting for Crowley and Aziraphale's story).

It occurred to me as I was writing this that Gabriel's amnesia is not indicative of how Heaven's forced memory wiping works. That's because Heaven doesn't actually wipe his memory, he takes it away himself and stores it in the fly. So I can't really presume anything based on his behavior.

But the show does imply Crowley was of high rank:

And he does remember general events -- creating nebulae, passwords, the war. He just doesn't appear to remember other angels.

He doesn't even identify the Metatron by name, he refers to him as "the last time I saw you, you were a big floating giant head man" -- which he did literally just see, in Heaven. It's Aziraphale who identifies him by name.

I saw a meta earlier comparing Job to Crowley with an interesting suggestion: maybe Crowley never did anything wrong. Furfur's story implies Crowley was an active participant, but maybe there's more to it than meets the eye.

Last thing that comes to mind:

I think it's super interesting that Muriel just happens to be the lowest ranking scribe, until the plan to yeet Gabriel from his position, and then he will just happen to be the next lowest after that. It makes me wonder who they were, or will become. But I am convinced that who they are isn't who they've always been.

Because that's what Heaven does -- they take away agency, they care not for the individual but rather the role the individual plays. Once the individual stops being useful towards that role, they discard them like one of God's favorite human's kids.

#good omens #good omens meta #Crowley's memory

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undermine-the-instinct · 1 year

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Title: It Scratches At The Inside.

CW: Small talk about undermining an authoritative government. One super tiny mention of stimming. WC: 3.9K

This occurs before One Step back Two To Steps to The Right and some time after Second Male Lead, Enter! Bard!reader Masterlist

The guard had a stoic face but was obviously trying not to smile while you were there. You caught him failing a few times though, and you catch the mirth in his eyes when he opens up your jail cell and nods his head out.

"Your bail has been paid for. You're good to go bard."

"Alas my new friends! Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I must take my merry elsewhere." The rest of the people in your little cell groan, but also cheer you off, and you grin as you step out, give them a little bow.

You're allowed to collect your bag and your coat, and your lyre, and smile at the people there. No hard feelings, after all, you saw them smiling too when you were singing. You're no Barbatos but your voice is lovely.

"You're here much too often, you hear me?" The guard says, shuffling through his ring of keys.

"There's too many rules here to break sir. I'm honestly still trying to remember half of them." You chuckle as he gives you an eye.

"Well, that's the Monstadt in ya. Rulebreaker ya are. But I don't wanna see you back here for another three weeks at least, you hear me?" The door opens and you fly through before it's even halfway open. Kaveh is waiting for you.

"I'd be lucky to make it to two sir, but I'll try!" You think you hear him laugh before you turn the corner to the front desk, and Kaveh is not, in fact, actually waiting for you.

It's another man, dove gray hair with some teal undertones, tri-colored eyes and a bored, expectant look on his face when he turns to you. He looks haughty. And rich.

"Ah, there you are. Kaveh's little muse." With that, you know exactly who he is.

"Oh, you're his roommate, I presume?" You sweep into an elegant bow, and bow your head.

"And the one who bailed me out. Thank you very much. Though I assume you're here for a reason. Kaveh usually comes for me in these situations."

"Yes, nuisance that you are, but he was busy. Instead of having him panic over completing his work or getting to you, I decided to get you myself. Come now," he turns away, and starts walking out the building.

"There's better places we could be talking." Well, you're curious, and you currently have nowhere important to be. So, you follow him.

He walks briskly, and his super long legs pull him up ahead while you have to jog to keep up.

He just keeps walking, on and on. He doesn't make any conversation, and you're wondering whether this is really worth it, (why do you keep letting yourself be pulled off to suspicious places by handsome men) when he stops abruptly.

An alleyway, of course. Darkened and dampened with silence. You guess this will do.

Your hands fall to your knees, and you catch your breath. You're creaky from sitting in a cell for a couple days.

"Phew. Okay, what do you want from me?"

"Who says I want anything from you?"

"Please don't act like I'm dumb," you sigh, drawing yourself fully erect.

"There's a reason you bailed me out and brought me here, and you don't look the type to just do favors for people." A snap of your fingers.

"So, I'd prefer it if you'd just spit it out."

"Hm. You're right. I do want something from you. But I'm curious."

"About?"

"You." You roll your eyes the second that leaves his mouth.

"Why, is it because of all the drama with the Sages and the General? It's really not that interesting."

"Half of Sumeru can contest to that."

"It's really not anything special. Just annoying really."

"As the Grand Scribe I don't have to attend every meeting," He derails the conversation, your cheek would sting from the whiplash.

"And my input is not received very well. I am meant to record, analyze and store information for the convenience of others."

"Okay…. Sounds tedious."

"It is. But it has its uses too." He leans closer.

"Because I'm allowed to sort the information, I'm also able to conduct my own personal research. But there are some things I can't find in the Akademia.

"That's where you will come in."

"Me? How?" And why? Does he automatically assume that you're just going to do his bidding? The arrogance.

"You're banned from multiple establishments and restaurants. Bars and taverns and a few official buildings. So when you work it's usually odd jobs like delivering goods or watching cargo, helping the sailors at Port Ormos. And it's usually later at night when the general public has gone to bed."

"...Have you been stalking me or something?" Now it's his turn to roll his eyes.

"Kaveh will talk the ear off of anything if he has something he's passionate about. He seems particularly interested in you and your…uniqueness."

"I am pretty amazing," you acquiesce, nodding along. "And Kaveh has lots of ideas he likes to bounce off of me. He wants to incorporate Monstadt architecture into some of his next projects soon."

"We'll see how well recieved that is." Before you could call him out on his mutterings a sharp sigh leaves his nose.

"You're deliberately getting us off track."

"Well. It seems like you're building up to a proposal and I'm not here for it. Just tell me what you want instead of the creepy ways you've been keeping note of me."

"Everyone knows what you've been up to. You're practically a celebrity."

"Whoop-de-do. What do you want."

"Whenever you make a fuss Sumeru tunes in, starved for entertainment as they are. The sages are incensed and General Mahamatra is distracted. I need you to keep doing that, but doing it consciously now."

"...Okay? That's it?" Just keep being your troublesome self?

"With the late jobs you pull you're also privy to gossip. Which could lead to good intel if you follow the right gossip. I'm too noticeable. Much more than you are. My proposal is that you continue as you are. Distract the Akademiya, distract Sumeru. Collect intel and deliver it to me when I ask."

You huff and plop yourself down on a crate, crossing a leg over your knee.

"If I do that though, it would put me under more suspicion. My crimes have been elevated from a Violation to a Class B Misdemeanor. I don't have the luxury to do any of that even if I truly wanted to." You shrug.

"I get that you just bailed me out so I could maybe do a job for you, but I'm not risking falling under the Sages hands for…." Yeah, wait, he didn't offer anything. "Yeah, for what?"

"I'll bail you out if you get caught, but only if it's by the local precinct. Any higher jurisdiction I'll also become a suspect. Any funds you need I'd also be willing to provide."

"...You just have money to spend, don't you?"

"Consider it charity." He looks you up and down and that bastard. Yeah, your clothes look wrinkled and a little threadbare, but that's a part of your charm. The ruffian bard, so to speak.

Even if pebbles keep getting inside the hole in your boot. You hadn't been able to fix it yet.

"Okay, you pay me and bail me out for gathering intel wherever you need me to, and distracting Sumeru too, that's the deal? So everything I've already been doing." You shrug.

"I assume you have no demands?"

"Hm. I want to discuss the intel I gather at your place."

"Absolutely not." He shoots you down immediately, but you're not discouraged.

"Why not?! Kaveh always tells me about your horrible art decor and I wanna see how bad it really is." You kick your feet, but he still shakes his head.

"It's like you're trying to garner attention."

"I've been on the downlow lately, no ones going around looking for me. The General should also still be on an excursion for the better half of this week, so I'm led to believe." You snort.

"But I don't. These things take weeks but he's been running himself ragged lately. He'll probably be back in a day or two."

"We'll see if that holds weight. I don't suppose you know anything about the General's recent work ethic though, do you?"

"Constantly annoyed by my continued tomfoolery, I suppose. Anyways!" You snap up to your tip toes and grin.

"How about a down payment? I got plenty of info already, so why not?"

"I'll pay you after I get the intel."

"You seem like the type of guy to scam a person and do it smooth too. Payment first."

"I'm not giving you mora so you can run off like a little imp."

"Don't call me an imp again. I guess it's a good thing then that I don't want your money!" You put your hands in your pockets and rock back in your heels with your fake cheer. He raises an eyebrow.

"You obviously need it."

"Well duh, of course I do. But I prefer to work for my own." If there's one thing your parents taught you, it's that money honestly isn't worth a thing unless you earn it honestly.

And none of this seems honest or even good, actually. You make such bad judgements calls. At least you have a conscience.

"I'm sure you have a plethora of hidden funds you're just waiting to drain that won't show on your bank records, but I'm not taking it. I can manage." He looks disbelieving, and you're sure he thinks you're joking, or that you'll change your mind soon. Tempting as that offer was, you're not taking it, its way too sketchy. He just looks like hes yo to something, which, technically he is. But your parents taught you better!

"So what do you want then?"

"Hm…" you put a hand to your chin like you don't already know.

"A place to crash once or twice a week. That's all. Paying rent to an inn is getting expensive, and the beds arent even good." For emphasis you stretch your arms above your head, cracking a few joints.

"...Let me guess. Specifically at–"

"Specifically at your place, yeah." Yeah, you really wanna see this place. Youre going to. Kaveh has been so adamant about you never meeting his roommate or going to their shared space, and you're already working on breaking his second wish.

"Tell me, does the General or the sages believe I'd be hiding at the house of one of their officials? No. Even if they end up suspecting you they won't suspect our correlation."

"There's actually a chance they might," he counters. "With the fact that you're acquainted with my roommate."

"And not many people know you two are roommates. We just need to make sure that Kaveh doesn't figure out our relationship."

If he figured out this meeting happened he would yell and holler up to Celestia. Everyone under the sun would know, so you can't let him know. Absolutely not.

"You two have a sorta strange relationship so I'm sure that you didn't tell him that you were gonna bail me out. I'll tell him it was an anonymous person who bailed me out, perhaps a secret admirer." You flutter your lashes, but he seems unresponsive. What a statue.

"And when could we arrange this?"

"How about when I'm giving you my intel? It would be pretty late at night you know so people won't see me sneaking in through the back door or something. And if they do they'll just think I'm your lover or sonething."

He seems to think for a moment, and, really, wow, you've never seen eyes like his before. You've seen people with two different colored eyes, but no one with three colors per eye. It's really pretty actually.

Finally he nods, begrudgingly.

"Fine. It's a deal. Doesn't cost much on my end anyways."

"Well this is invaluable to me, so thank you!" the fake cheer in your voice doesn't go unnoticed, and he reaches a handout for a handshake. You take it (Holy Celestia his hand is huge what the fuck? His fingers way go past your wrist) and shake it firmly. You were a knight, you're sure you have a good handshake, but you suspect that's not the reason why he looks at his hand when you pull away. Bitch.

"Is there anything you'd like to know right now?" You ask, professional mode.

"Have you heard anything about the knowledge capsules?"

"The illegal production of them or the ones being stolen and sold from the Akademiya?" You're pretty sure you see his eyes light up something, not sinister, but calculating. You smile, bold, and gesture towards the alleyway.

"Lead the way Grand Scribe. I'll talk along the way."

________

"It's funny how you impose a no overnight guest rule but lift it for me."

"Kaveh's guests are usually just as drunk and rowdy as he is. So that rule only applies to him."

"And I'm never not drunk or rowdy?"

"You are, just not as often. And you have more tact. I make the rules here anyways, so I decide when and when not to impose them."

"Some people would call you a hypocrite."

"I don't care." You chuckle, and go back to toweling your hair.

Ready access to a shower is something you'll never take for granted again. Communal showers and baths got the job done, but leisurely soaking under the water was such a wondrous feeling you had nearly forgotten. One thing that you missed from inazuma- their baths and saunas, pure heaven.

Amazing smelling soaps and shampoos and lotions was another, things too tedious to carry around while traveling. Now your hair has gotten less frazzled and your skin has never been better in the handful of weeks Al Haitham has 'employed' you.

You had raised an eyebrow at Al Haitham, when you noticed all the new bottles after the first few times you crashed at his place, late at night, right after delivering intel.

"...Why don't you let me use the guest room and bathroom?"

"I'm not having you leave any evidence behind. That's why you've been using mine."

"I get that…but um. What is all of this?" You gesture at the bottles. They're all scents he would never use; vanilla, lavender, cinnamon, jasmine and saffron musk and the like. Soaps that smell like fruits and creamy lotions and sweet body scrubs.

He stood quiet for a few minutes, but answered you.

"....I unfortunately have a conscience, so if you won't accept money I have to imburse you some other way." He didn't even look up from the papers he was looking over, this convo a distraction.

"They seemed like things you would enjoy. So the toiletries are for you. Use them." And he waved a hand at you, dismissive.

You didn't know how to respond, so you just grinned and took an extra long bath.

Now, you delight in how soft and clean you are, and tottle over to where Al haitham sits on the couch, book in hand. You plop down next to him.

"Whaddya reading?"

"Something light."

"Yeah, whaddya reading?"

"The Cultural and Generational study of Linguistics as a philosophy as Opposed to a Social Mechanic. Just some light reading."

"Oh yeah, you Haravat peeps are big into languages and stuff. Do you know how to speak any other languages?"

"The Sage for Haravat has to be fluent in at least twenty languages to qualify."

"Archons be damned. What about you?"

"I can speak some." You tap his arm to try and get him a bit more into the conversation.

"Okay, then indulge me! Say something in another language."

"Eres molesto." You frown, and answer back in the same tongue.

"Cabron"

"Perra."

"Burra."

"Tonta."

"Pendejo."

"En realidad soy bastante inteligente."

"Sure you are." You sigh.

"I'm not the one who let my studies fall to the wayside to join a group of Knights only to drop out whilst being in a position of power to travel the world as a bard." He says, and yeah, that stung a little. Fucker.

"School just wasn't for me. I learn better with hands-on experience, going at my own pace."

"That's what all the dropouts say."

"I kept up my education in other ways, alright?! I've traveled and seen more than you ever have."

"That's true. You have seen and experienced things I have yet to." He says. He doesn't add anything, and the room falls back into silence.

You can hear the crickets outside. Soon, you'll be able to hear the odd owl or two, hooting away at the night. A half muffled conversation you hear, whispers from the open window.

"But, I'm still smarter than you." Silence and peace, broken. You grab one of the couch pillows and try to smack him. He stops it with a hand though.

"Oh shut up! You act like that makes you so much better than me."

"Who's the one with the most mora between us?"

"Mora isn't worth a damn thing except the value people put on it."

"Which is quite a lot, so my question still stands." You huff and snatch back the pillow, clutching it to your chest.

"Don't you get tired of the nomad life?" He asks you suddenly, seriously.

"Wouldn't you like to actually settle down somewhere, have some stability?"

"Well, with my record it probably won't be in Sumeru." You laugh, trying to make light of the way Al haitham is looking at you, the way he looked away from his book the first time that night.

"But I have no plans for anything right now. That might seem aimless but I find it freeing. I could go anywhere, I could do nearly anything. The only thing I have to follow is my own compass and everything else will align."

"That sounds like you expect the world to just adhere to you and follow your whims."

"Of course I don't expect that. But fortune favors the bold, and I'm tired of being meek. I fell into conformity and enjoyed the monotone nature of it all before, because I was scared of change." You stare off into space, lost in your thoughts of what was.

"I had to put myself out there to know this, but I'd rather be scared of what's coming rather than what could be, you know? It's easy to get dragged into a lifestyle and think that it's the best you can get, but I crave a thrill. I'm young, so I'm going to be a little crazy, a little reckless. It's the right of youth after all."

"Hm." That's his only reply. You don't look up from where you're holding the pillow, staring down at your feet, still kinda wrinkly from soaking for too long.

"That mindset was for when we were teenagers. That doesn't apply as you get older."

"Says who? Society? As long as I'm able to, and as long as I want to, I'm to travel and sing and dance. It makes me feel good. I feel alive. Even if I'm condemned for it I won't stop."

"Really? If you keep annoying the Sages they might just have to double down on you," he says, like discussing the weather.

"And the General Mahamtra Cyno. For some reason you're able to hold him at bay, but for how long? Will you continue, should they get more aggressive?"

"Of course. I have to."

"You have to?"

"Yeah. Even if I can't do it here, I'll find some place where I can." You nod, somber.

"I have to. It's like….it's just inside of me and I have to let it out."

"Like stimming?"

"Almost! But…more. Just more. It just demands to be heard," you poke at your collarbone, lost in contemplation.

"It just…scratches at the inside of me."

"....Well, that's the Monstadt in you." He sighs again, exasperated, and you're sure he is, but you're sure he's starting to get used to your company too.

You kinda just…spilled your guts a little, didn't you? How embarrassing. But when you look up, Al haitham has his eyes on his book again.

"How about you go to sleep already? You have a job tomorrow."

"Well, the couch I've been allowed to occupy has been taken over already so I'm afraid not."

"I caught you sleeping standing up once, I'm sure half a couch can suffice."

"No, get off."

"No. My couch. My room."

"That you let me sleep in. Turn off the light, too."

"No. I'm reading. I'm not going to do either."

"Well fine then!" And just like that you plop your head into his lap.

He moves his book out the way and blinks down at you, actually looking a little astonished.

"What the fuck do you think your doing?" You snort.

"Oh wow, you cursed. Oh uh, I'm going to sleep?"

"With your head in my lap?"

"Yeah, do you work out by any chance? Of course you do look at your biceps, but this," you tap his thigh. "Is not a very comfy pillow. You're not very soft."

"Then get off." You shut your eyes and immediately pretend to be sleeping already, even if you can't help the twitching at the corner of your mouth.

"What was that? I'm sleeptalking and can't hear you over the fact that I'm very deep in my REM cycle now." You fake snore just to sell it and you swear you could feel him roll his eyes.

But he doesn't move you, and you're actually dog tired, and soon, you're fast asleep.

******

His leg goes numb in half an hour, but he still doesn't yet move.

You're really snoring now, and he's sure there'd be droll if you had laid your head to the side. But your mouth is slightly parted, and even breaths leave your nose. You really fell asleep in his lap.

And for some reason he let you.

You're touchy, and nosy, but useful. You keep eyes off him when he needs to gather intel on his own, whatever you can't get him. You don't ask for much and do your community time when you're caught and sentenced. You enjoy it actually. Giving back and whatnot.

Kaveh continually gushes on about you, but should he offer the slightest bit of interest he suddenly turns snarky and possessive. Like a desert fox not wanting to share, he says that he wouldn't want to poison you with his everything.

He has to laugh a little. If only he knew.

Perhaps he could help you out. He's really cheating you with how much intel you bring in, and while he normally wouldn't feel anything, something about you pokes at his conscience.

He's sure he could help you acquire some sort of position that would allow you to continue your...hobbies. Probably at the Zubayr theater. And what about your vision?

You've been trying to hide it but he's caught a glimpse of its fiery red hue a couple of times. It would serve you well, whether gathering intel or defending yourself from troublemakers. You've had a couple scruffles and loose calls that could be avoided.

The only problem is the fact you need a high ranking signature. And you can't ask, no one would be willing to sign for you.

Except for him, perhaps. But were you worth the suspicion?

You'd undoubtedly be able to do more with your vision. You'd be much more useful. If he gets you a position at the theater you'd be more willing to do work for him. It would reap him many rewards. He should start treating you more like a business partner than an employee. Then it's decided.

He'd also have you start taking your payment already. Multiple small withdrawals from the bank would look less suspicious then one large one, and he's tired of you forcing yourself to some strict moral code. Baths and a place to crash are basic rights, not payment. If you're working for him you'll get payed, end of chapter.

Speaking of chapters, he'll move once he finishes this one. Once you were asleep you wouldn't wake until your body was sufficiently rested, a horrible quirk of yours, so he could move without you stirring.

He'd let you stay where you are for a bit longer.

Translation Notes:

Eres molesto: You're annoying.

Cabron: Bastard

Perra: Bitch

Berra: Donkey/ Jackass

Tonta: Ditzy

Pendejo: Stupid/Dumbass

En realidad soy bastante intelligente: In reality im quite intelligent/ I'm actually quite intelligent. (He's being snarky/joking here.)

Taglist: @jjkclub @jaguarthecat @swivy123 @seajellyx @ash-in-lavender

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wetcatspellcaster · 6 months

Note

7 and 8 for the Tav asks. :D and congrats on the thesis!

Thank you for the questions! Sorry for the long answer!

7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one?

So I thought about this a lot, the Good Ending for Rosalie is she's Just A Person, the Bad Ending is that she volunteers to become the mindflayer at the Orpheus decision for ENTIRELY THE WRONG REASONS (feeling like a liability, believing it's the only way to cure her mental illness, seeing herself as the weak link in the group, being depressed, etc. - this ending bought to you by me staring at that decision screen for an hour KNOWING she'd turn herself into a mindflayer in a heartbeat but feeling physically ill over her logic behind that decision). This is the 'exalted mind' ending.

So there is a bad path for her, but it's one bought about by being self-sacrificing to the point of absolute idiocy and self destruction. I think that Tav literally swerves her away from it by teaching her to be a little selfish and to value herself lmao. Literally the opposite of most of the other companions, and kind of what I wish you could teach Wyll in his storyline tbh!

Her arc would be her just generally being over-emotional and reckless, with lots of camp chats about morality in Act 1 (I would probably double down on the tropes that fandoms hate in female characters a la Katara in Avatar the Last Airbender just for the lols). I want her ending Act 1 feeling like a trite 'heart of the group', ridiculous Mary Sue, she talks to you a lot about how you're feeling, are you ok? Borderline annoying tbh, but with the EA Halsin Effect of "oh, you're the companion who's nicest to me!!". Then in Act 1/2 depending on approval she does something utterly stupid, like run into a fight alone unprompted (death to a wizard), or possibly have Ethel specific dialogue that pisses Ethel off if she's in your party, and the player starts thinking "god this girl is a bit weird and reckless and stupid at times actually", and calling her out on it gets the illithid tadpole as anxiety med drop.

Act 3, you start meeting people from her past (bonus comedy route for if you just enabled all her behaviour at this point to be nice to her and get her approval bc then the illithid tadpole drop happens here). Larroakan is like "aren't you that mousy little scribe who completed those commissions for me?", you can find Threnn, possibly did an infernal translation for Gortash (not canon just for story tie-in)???? and they're all like "who the fuck are you? why are you so different now". There would be a confrontation about lying about who she is, a camp conversation about the pressure they face as the 'heroes of Baldur's Gate" and how she feels inadequate. And then in the conversation with Threnn, and the final Orpheus conversation, Tav can encourage Rose to have an actually healthy relationship with her emotions and not see her every choice as a failing actually. Then you unlock real Rose personality and a final decision where she doesn't try and throw herself on her sword.

8. After Act 3, what does their life look like? What are they talking about at the reunion party?

Good ending Rosalie has rebuilt her relationships with her family, she's back at the Watchful Order but getting all their backlog of heroic deeds retroactively converted into a wizard qualification, and unromanced she'll mention that she's either considering going on secondment to Avernus or helping Halsin in the Shadowlands/feywild as her practical project for the final part of her grade. She will have visited every single companion in the six months (Wyll/Karlach as a projection). She will mention going to tea weekly with Gale given that she's fast-tracking wizardry/he needs a friend group and practice at being a normie and they live in the same city. She will name drop being friends with Tara very smugly.

Bad ending Rosalie is a mindflayer and will talk about the magic she's capable of and the power she's unlocking, now she's no longer letting emotion cloud her judgement. You can ask her about her parents and if she's gotten back in touch and she says, "oh, right. I used to have those."

tav ask game! :)

#asks #ask game #tav ask game #honestly Rosalie is me getting frustrated at Lawful Good being seen as the 'boring' option and doubling down...#...so I imagine she'd annoy a bunch of people A LOT :')#(it was a very specific Early Access feeling... ifykyk)

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lashysdomain · 5 months

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Monotony

The blank stare that Vayu typically gives her laptop while in classes breaks when her professor announces a group project. Vayuya starts packing her things away into her bag as her eyes roll; who would be most tolerable to partner with for this-

Ah.

Assigned partners.

A night later Vayuya's group meets, the rest of them having picked a place unfamiliar to her to study. While uneasy, there are enough people around that her nerves are steady. Though it being a bar, even in the quieter hours, is still a bit uncomfortable.

Project breakdown, division of work, and an outline are established in a short few hours, Vayu deeming herself the groups scribe and choosing to not bring much up herself. This is a required course, not one she even has much interest in, so why bother at all when others are excited about it.

Her mind begins to drift as talk moves away from class work to personal life, beginning to pack things away once again out of habit. A tapping at her shoulder breaks her autopilot, her mouse nearing dropping to the floor but the stranger catches it.

"... What?" Vayuya is clearly startled as she hisses the question; looking the other to get a general idea of them and quickly they’re deemed not the kind of person she'd typically enjoy the company off just by the vibes running off their smile alone.

"Oh, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you; here." They hand her mouse back, and skitter out of their chair when Vayu immediately tries to beeline for the door. "H-Hey! I was gonna ask if I could walk you out! You're always alone unless it's like, one or two people so I figured I'd be ni-"

"Nice?" she spits the word, hand on the exit door as she wheels around, her eyes growing darker as they narrow. "What's nice about following me the full length of the bar when I clearly don't want to talk to you."

"Well. You didn't hear me out so I wanted to explain-- You didn't really say anything so I wanted to make sure-"

"Fucks sake- Can you not just leave me alone? Seriously?" Her lip curls up in disgust at just how insistent they are, opening the bar door and slamming it shut behind her to end the conversation. People from her school almost never want to actually be kind to her. Not people she's in classes with. The term had started months ago, there's no way someone had avoided the rumors for that long.

The sudden acrid taste in her mouth snaps her back to reality, glancing down at the ruined black polish on her nails as her feet slow to a stop. Turning her attention back to the world around her, the street she's on is unfamiliar; likely a side street she's never had to use in this part of town.

Pulling her phone out to check the GPS she feels a tap at her shoulder again, pointedly ignoring it as knowing one of these interactions is coming is always the worst. Scarbucks isn't too far since this was a college bar, but checking her phones calendar she curses. Levyil isn't working tonight.

"Hey- I'm sorry, but after what happened in there I wanted-"

"Oh, yeah, be honest with what you want. I know even though you won't get it, you'll tell people you did."

She doesn't even turn from her phone, just starting to head off in a direction at random.

"Would you stop that!" Vayuya nearly falls to her knees at how hard her arm is pulled back, glancing up at the green and pink bangs covering this trolls face. She hadn't even realized their voice was different from the others.

"I wanted to see if you were okay. That guy took off after you. I wanted to make sure you were fine." They huff, finally letting her go.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine." Vayuya glances away, a pit growing in her stomach at the misunderstanding. She can feel her posture changing to be less standoffish and more nervous for a moment, but after a shake of her head she's back to her normal self. "You can go now."

"I'd rather not, actually. They're probably still out here looking for you. Can I walk with you to somewhere you can stay safe for a while at least? I'll leave after. Promise."

"Uh. Yeah. Sure."

#vayuya #vayuya rp #vayuya writing #drabble #maatae #maatae rp #maatae writing

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queenvreads · 1 year

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REVIEW: Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

*Contains Spoilers *

I am going to be VERY generous—no, EXTREMELY generous (because I waited on a waitlist for this book and paid $31 for it)—and give this book 2.75 stars/5. The premise of the book is actually good, but the execution falls short. AND I must emphasize that if this book hadn't been so hyped up, I might have enjoyed it more. But because of all the hype, I had high expectations, and unfortunately, it didn't meet them.

Let's begin my rant.

Violet studied her whole life to be a scribe, but her mom decides that she should become a dragon rider instead. The majority of the cadets at this brutal academy are conscripted, meaning they don't have enough soldiers in the military and need to draft these kids. However, these kids are just left for dead during the trials, and tragically, every moment and every day someone dies. They can even kill each other, with a few exceptions based on the Codex rules.

In the beginning of the book, 60-something kids died on the parapet. What is the point of that? It would have made more sense if the losers of the trials were assigned different roles like scribes, cooks, or healers instead of being killed.

Furthermore, all the kids of the separatists are conscripted into the military. Why would you give kids of traitors with strong vendettas access to secrets and military information? But even worse, they are given dragons. Doesn't anyone see a problem with this? It's not a very smart military strategy. (But what do I know!)

The world-building and dialogue in the book were very corny and cringe-worthy. There were instances of strange dialogue early on that stood out. For example, on page 9, Violet & Mira are talking about Violet's situation. It's bad—she's literally going to a death academy. They have this super weird conversation about a rider who can make small things very big. "I roll my eyes." "I mean how much bigger?" I don't know... like... that's what comes to mind when you're panicked for your life in this high-stress situation? Soooo cringe. Then they go on to talk about sex lives... like, seriously? I think Violet needs to focus on a different topic today 🤣

Another example is on page 14 when Mira warns Violet about Xaden. Instead of a natural conversation, Violet starts info-dumping facts about Xaden's father. "That Xaden Riorson?" and then Violet starts saying the facts about who Xaden's father is. "His father was the Great Betrayer. He led the rebellion." Who talks like that? Imagine you're talking to someone about your friend ABC, and then that person says, "Oh ABC, they grew up in a small town and have 4 dogs." Yes, that's the one.

This pattern of cringe dialogue continues throughout the book. While I understand the appeal of providing details to the reader, the descriptions were too literal and lacked subtlety.

Another example when Xaden and Violet meet, they say "Sorengail?" "You're General Sorrengail's youngest!" "You're Fen Riorson's son!" DUH 😵😵 Oh my God, pull my teeth out.

Let's move on to Violet. (O.M.G. I could not stand this nickname.)

She is tiny, frail, and weakly built. YOU CANNOT FORGET THIS, BECAUSE IT'S REPEATED THROUGHOUT THE BOOK. My main issue with her is that she knowingly puts herself in a dangerous situation where death is almost guaranteed, yet she acts SO STUPID. 🤯🤠😵

I fail to understand why Xaden keeps praising her intelligence when her actions don't reflect it. WHAT'S SO SMART ABOUT HER? If she were smart, she would have let Dain take her away.

For example, the moment she shares one of her good boots with Rhiannon, who, at that moment, could have been a Jack 2.0, I knew she was dumb. She consistently comes across as lacking common sense.

Another moment... when she protected Andarna before they bonded. I'd want to protect an innocent creature as well from being killed, but the fact that she puts herself in harm's way, to protect a DRAGON when she's outnumbered like that, is insane.

And how on earth does she get 2 dragons? Of course, her dragon is mated with Xaden's. At least it's not mated faes...

There was a part when Jack challenged her. She didn't want Liam to tell Xaden, yet during the fight, she has a thought about how she needs to survive for Xaden's safety. IT MAKES NO SENSE. She could have told him, and he would have stopped it!

Next up, I had no connection to her and Xaden romantically. Of course, he's this misunderstood villain who actually has morals. Violet is scared for her life, and Xaden has a reason to kill her, yet she fantasizes about how good-looking he is. SCORCHING HOT. OH MY GOSH. PLEASE. NO. What is this vocabulary they use in this book?? The constant reminder that her body is reacting to him, he's so.fucking.hot, that her self-preservation is out the door. AND LET'S NOT EVEN TALK ABOUT THE SEX SCENES. Oh, my goodness, the dirty talk was so CRINGE. Ok, let's move on, I can't talk about it.

Moving on.... There is a point that Violet, VIOLET.. finds out about Xaden's secret gatherings. (When she is in the tree) she then promises him secrecy. Why? It makes no sense. She thinks he's going to murder her. She overhears him talk, and she's like, "Oh, he's not so bad, that's good advice he's telling his potential rebellion gang." Like what? Then the escalation from "ok, I'll keep your secret" to "ok, are you going to kill me or what?" Does she have A.D.D.??

Everything about her interactions is useless. ANOTHER EXAMPLE. She bonds with 2 dragons, they are deliberating about the laws, and when they announce her as "girl," in her mind she corrects them with "woman!" And it's like.. ok so people are trying to kill you, you are injured, you are experiencing trauma, and that's where the line in your mind is crossed? Everything about her makes me want to bang my head against the wall.

Dain starts as being sweet and quickly becomes overbearing. He's condescending and whiny. They keep saying they are each other's best friends, but are they? REALLY? He puts policy before her. ALTHOUGH, he is the only one smart enough to attempt to get her out of the academy. It's like Tamlin and Rhys all over again, only much much worse.

Lastly, as much as I love dragons, them being telepathic with their riders ruined the grandeur and mystique of them for me. Big, great, ominous, strong dragons having sarcastic banter with an insecure Violet didn't work. It still doesn't make sense how she was thrown into this situation and is just accepting it. And actually choosing to stay.

The ending was good, the last line definitely something I will think about. Do I care to know what happens next? It really depends on whether this author will clean up her writing style and mature these characters.

I am never falling for TIKTOK hype ever again. 🤯... maybe thats a lie, but I will be WEARY!

✍️Befriend me on Goodreads: ⭐HERE⭐

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sam-glade · 1 year

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Find the word tag

Tagged by the wonderful @elshells here and @talesfromaurea here. Thank you!

And gently passing the tag to: @dogmomwrites @eccaiia @sunset-a-story. Your words are: note, cure, thought, sun.

From Aurea: free, cup, meet, and sky. Can I find all of them in The Fulcrum...

Free (Ra'na's POV)

The town is nothing more than a larger version of the village. Young beetles roam the streets freely, they barely reach up to Avians’ knees. As before, the houses’ walls are made of amber-coloured elytra, slightly translucent, warm both in touch and appearance, etched in lighter patterns, records of the families and events that are notable by the peasants’ standards. In the centre though stand a few buildings of fired bricks, blue-tinged and porous. The hatchery is one of them, central here as everywhere else, then there’s a potter’s kiln, the watchtower, and the one stone residence for the lease-lord. Ra’na almost doesn’t notice it, tucked away among others.

Cup (...'s POV)

The Peacemakers and the Land Treader sit at the benches that cling to the outside walls of the guardhouse. They drink water from hollowed-out gourds and send … to refill them at the stream that tumbles down from the Fracture. She takes the three gourds and does as she’s told. The Land Treader’s flask is more elaborate, she notices idly. The stopper is better fitted, and the straps are made of well-cured leather. … fills the flasks and quenches her own thirst. She cups some water in her hands, then lets it flow between her fingers, soothing.

Meet (Ra'na's POV)

Avians around her begin to disperse. Her begrudging guide inquires if her hunger is sated, and once she confirms, they lead her to meet the Hakasha, as promised. She follows them up and up the ramps to the topmost level of the ziggurat.

Sky (also Ra'na's POV)

“We have thought of the celestial bodies to be eternal. Timeless. For hundreds of generations no changes to them have been observed, and many scholars have studied the night sky closely. Now three new moving stars appeared. It’s inexplicable, and some find it frightening.” She stops, remembering herself. She is no longer a pupil answering her teacher. She is a full-fledged envoy of the Scribes’ Guild. “Some say that they foretell the return of the Ancients,” she concludes.

From Ella: reflect, letter, escape, ceremony, haunt. I'll look in the last draft of Prodigal Children.

Reflect (Erya's POV)

However, for the next dance Gullin asked Prince Ianim, and this was different. This was unlike most of the dances Erya had watched that night and unlike the way Gullin had acted before. The tune was slow and wistful, and his body language reflected that. So did Prince Ianim’s. Erya still couldn’t tell what it was about dancing that bothered her so much. She had never tried it, but then she didn’t partake in organised hunts either, and that idea did not trouble her at all.

Letter (Erya's POV)

“Say, has anyone other than Darias mentioned marriage to you recently?” Anthea raised an eyebrow, demanding an explanation. “Oh, I was keeping an eye on him and came across the letter some time ago. It occurs to me that in uncertain times like these some may see it as a way of forging a powerful alliance as well as gaining popularity.” Anthea smirked. “I hope that my public image is enough to discourage such ideas.”

Yes, Anthea accepted that Erya will read every prince's correspondence.

Escape (Gullin's POV)

A shaky laugh escaped him. "You're insane." Lissan grinned. It was the grin that convinced Gullin that they were going to be all right.

Ceremony (Random guest's POV that may get cut)

Prince Kessimir had always considered weddings to be a treat for a Crystal. Even the arranged, political marriages involved some joyful celebration. There was always a child who didn’t look beyond the surface of the ceremony, or some old friends who were happy to be reunited, or even just a couple of guests who enjoyed the setting.

Haunt (Lissan's POV)

For a few heartbeats, he watched Gullin’s familiar features, only to notice how tense his jaw was and how set the frown on his forehead looked. This was concerning. Gullin looked up at him, without joy or relief. His eyes were dark. Haunted. This was bad.

#the fulcrum #prodigal children #writeblr #tag game #find the word tag #writeblr tag game

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reneesbooks · 1 year

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The Knight of Lacuna Lake - Part 3

this one's a long one so buckle up bitches bc it's all downhill from here

summary: Keelan attends Maura's birthday celebration (5.7k words)

intro post, part one, part two

taglist (ask to be added! <3): @serenanymph @lyssa-ink @oh-no-another-idea @lena-rambles @ashen-crest

There are 32 different places in the throne room where the royal seal has been worked into the stone. Keelan is convinced there is a 33rd, but he can't figure out where it is.

“Your Majesties, I beg for your assistance,” a reedy voice says. Keelan pulls his gaze away from the stonework and shifts it to Maura. She is perfectly upright in the simple wooden chair next to her mother's throne, listening attentively as the woman, a cobbler, spells out the economical impacts of the latest trading regulations on imports from Guildi on her small shop outside of the port city of Wareshead, and did Your Majesties know that Wareshead is the biggest importer—

“I believe I might have a solution,” Maura says, cutting the woman's ramble off. “If ports offer bulk pricing to smaller shops, like yours, who only serve smaller areas, would that improve your ability to turn a profit?”

“A wise idea, my princess,” the woman says, bowing.

“How would the ports make up their lost profits?” King Proteus asks, leaning forward in his throne.

Maura's eyes wander around the throne room. Keelan can see the wheels turning in her head, is familiar enough with the way her nose crinkles when she's thinking from three months of spending nearly every morning in the library with her. Her eyes light up as she lands on a solution. “Our Fierodian trading agreement includes incentives for ports who send regular shipments. If they offer bulk pricing domestically and begin building a larger market abroad, those incentives combined with new markets at which to sell should balance out any negative impact.”

“Well decided, Princess Maura,” Queen Rosaleen says, beaming proudly. “The royal scribes will have everything ready by tomorrow.”

The members of the court clap politely as the cobbler is escorted away by the guard. Maura bites her lip, stifling a yawn. Keelan checks the position of the sun through the window. It's nearing dinnertime. He shifts a little where he's standing, flexing his toes. He's been standing behind Maura's chair for hours now, but he's had plenty of practice with that. What's making his limbs tingle with anticipation is the fact that it's Maura's birthday. After the court is dismissed, there will be a grand feast and then a ball. Keelan has never been to a royal ball before. He's heard that they serve chocolate.

Plus, there is the chance that Maura will ask him to dance with her. Not that he's thought much about that.

“I think that is where we shall finish today,” the queen says. Keelan nearly bites his own tongue with excitement. “The court is dismissed.”

Maura turns to Keelan and makes a relieved face. He smiles and bows when she stands. “Would you like to go directly to dinner, princess?”

“I think so,” she says. He follows her towards the great hall. Once they are out of earshot of anyone, she moves closer to him. “I command you to sit at the great table with me.”

They pass by the steps to the library before can make his mouth work. “Maura, I don't know if that's a good idea. I am still only your shield.”

“Come on, Keelan.” She grabs his arm and gives him a pleading look. “It's my birthday. Why wouldn't you sit with me?”

He sighs. “Your father might not approve.”

In the months that Keelan has been Maura's guard, he has been completely unable to discern the king's opinion of him. King Proteus is a stern, generally unsmiling man. He only softens around his wife and daughters, but even then, he has a general presence of intimidation that makes the hairs on the back of Keelan's neck stand up.

“It's not his birthday.” He looks away and she darts in front of him, forcing him to meet her eyes. He inhales sharply, raising his gaze to the heavens. She is still holding his arm. “Please?”

“You're going to be the death of me.”

“Hopefully not.” She releases his arm and continues down the corridor. “I asked the cooks to brew some grapevine tea for tonight. Is there anything else they should add?”

Keelan has been getting better at hiding his feelings, but the blush still creeps up his neck. “That is more than enough.”

When they reach the great hall, Maura makes a beeline for the great table. The lesser nobles and aristocrats are trickling in, mingling with the foreign guests, finding seats and filling the cavernous hall with the sound of conversation and laughter. Maura skips up the steps to the great table, gesturing for Keelan to follow. She walks up to the closest guard. “Sir Keelan will be a guest of the royal family tonight,” she says authoritatively. “I will not need another knight to serve in his place.”

“Yes, princess,” the guard says, bowing deeply. “I'll fetch another chair.”

Before he knows it, Keelan is seated between Maura and Birdie at the great table, a steaming mug of grapevine tea sitting before him. He's on Maura's right while the queen sits to her left. Birdie is telling him about the last ball that they threw for Maura's birthday and how this will be her second ball, but all he can think about is how some of the lesser nobles are staring at him, whispering behind their hands. He's a nobody from a town that doesn't exist and he's sitting between the princesses of the kingdom, two seats away from the queen and three away from the king.

He's not freaking out about it.

Levi is on Birdie's other side, making sure that she eats the vegetables that pass by on platters and in soups as well as the little cakes that she keeps summoning. At one point, the pastry chef appears, red-faced and panting, and pulls Levi aside. Keelan can't hear all of what the pastry chef says, but when Levi returns to the table, he lectures Birdie sternly about how summoning pastries requires taking them from somewhere else. Birdie doesn't seem to be paying attention, but she stops summoning the cakes.

The food is much better than what Keelan normally eats in the barracks with the other guards—strawberries, sugared figs, hearty stews, and fatty meats. The grapevine tea is a little sweeter than how his mother used to make it, but the taste reminds him enough of home that he doesn't mind. Maura pulls him into conversations every few minutes, the topics ranging between the day's work, the court jester's jokes, and Birdie's antics. Keelan has to half-shout in order for her to hear him, but her smile is worth it.

A bard is brought in sometime around the fourth course (another stew) and the hall quiets so that her songs can be heard.

“My princess,” she says, bowing and adjusting herself on her stool. “I am honored by the opportunity to perform for you at your birthday feast. Do you have any requests?”

Maura glances at Keelan, then smiles at the bard. “What is your most requested song?”

The bard's eyes also dart to Keelan. “The Ballad of Keelan O'Leyne, princess. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes!” Maura claps her hands. “Please, play it for me.”

The bard clears her throat and plucks a few notes on her lute. “The story of Keelan O'Leyne is a tragedy, one that shows us the bravery of a lone soul and the devotion of a grieving son.” Keelan's throat is tight but he does his best not to show it. “All who hear of his deeds will pray to the moons that they never cross him, for he is a knight blessed with the strength of twelve men.”

The bard begins a tune that is slow and sweet.

“Gather round and hear the song

of boys who become men—

though the night is cold and long,

the spring will come again.

Even though you are afraid

there's nothing left to fear

for the brave Keelan O'Leyne

protects us while we're near.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me, take all the pain.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me and bring the sun again.”

Keelan can feel the blush rising up his neck, but doesn't dare look at Maura to see her reaction to the song. Birdie is already humming along, splashing in her stew in time to the tune. He can see Levi start to sing along and wonders how many of them have already heard it.

“Long ago in verdant Leyne,

the flames were hot and high.

Everywhere laid people slain

by men who would not die.

All that had been left behind

was one boy and his sword

left with nowhere else to hide

and no one he adored.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me, put out the flames.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me and bring the sun again.

While the boy was creeping towards

the house the raiders stole

there he saw the evil horde

had took his mother's soul.

And he filled with angry grief

and burst into the room

slaughtered all the murd'rous thieves

became their final doom.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me, erase the stain.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me and bring the sun again.”

The majority of the guests are singing along at this point, enough that Keelan wonders how he hasn't heard this song before. Maybe because he rarely leaves the castle. Either way, he's still studiously avoiding looking at Maura.

“When the moons looked down and saw

the hero who had slain

the twelve immortal thieves of Cág

they gave Keelan O'Leyne

The power of a dozen men,

and bravery ceaseless

three months he walked, was knighted then

the shield of the princess.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me, you're evil's bane.

Come rescue me, Keelan O'Leyne!

Come rescue me and bring the sun again.”

The guests burst into applause the bard bows again, catching the coins thrown at her in her hat. People are shouting requests and Keelan can see Maura clapping out of the corner of his eye. He lowers his gaze to his stew and eats, hoping that nobody is looking at him.

The bard stays through the sixth course (tender beef and hearty stewed cabbage), playing a variety of songs, some of which Keelan recognizes. As the meal progresses and some guests start to get intoxicated, drinking songs are requested more and more. This is when Keelan is treated to a second song about himself—this one a rowdy, unfortunately descriptive number about how exactly he went about killing the Immortal Thieves of Cág, who were legendary outlaws that had been terrorizing the west. Keelan has no idea what they're talking about, but it has a nice rhythm.

Levi has to use magic to keep Birdie away from the cakes when they come out with the rest of the desserts and she pouts until Keelan offers her half of his slice of pie. Maura's favorite cook, the one who fed them sandwiches on Keelan's first day, brings out a small sculpture made of sugared buns. It's been shaped into a galloping mare—the mane and tail are dusted with extra powdered sugar to make them look white. Maura laughs with delight, jumping down from the high table to inspect it up close.

“You've outdone yourself, Stiofán,” she says. “It's beautiful.”

Stiofán puffs his chest out. “They're all filled with jelly or custard. Each part of the horse is a different flavor, princess. The heart is peach.” He smiles. “Your favorite.”

Maura hugs him tightly before excitedly pulling off one of the buns on the horse's chest. She bites in and the room holds its breath.

Maura throws her head back, making a sound of delight before shoving the rest of the bun in her mouth. “Delicious!” she says around a mouthful of bun. The court laughs and the servants begin to divvy up the sculpture among the guests. They come by the grand table first and Keelan is treated to the enormous selection of options: blackberry, currant, chocolate, apple, fig, peach, blueberry, and a few flavors he's never heard of. He decides to play it safe and get two chocolate and two blueberry ones.

They are indeed delicious and he has to keep a close eye on his extras so that Birdie doesn't sneak them off his plate while he's not looking. At some point, she stole more of the little cakes from the other guests and Levi is busy using magic to put them back on the correct plates. This leaves Keelan in charge of keeping her out of mischief, so he has been trying to convince her that by only eating her own desserts, she will tempt a good faerie to come to her window and give her a blessing.

“But what kind of blessing?” Birdie asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Levi says there's different kinds based on the magic that you're using.”

Keelan coughs into his fist, seeing Maura's smirk out of the corner of his eye. “I'm not an expert, princess, so I'm not sure what kind of blessing the faeries would bring to a girl who doesn't steal other people's desserts. Maybe extra cake, maybe good fortune, maybe your hair will grow twice as long overnight.”

Birdie giggles. “I don't think it will be that.”

“Who's to say?” Keelan turns back to his plate to find it empty. “Birdie, what did we just tell you about stealing other people's desserts?”

“It wasn't me!” she protests, her eyes wide and innocent.

Keelan looks to his left to see Maura licking powdered sugar off her fingers, grinning smugly. “You should have kept a better eye on them,” she says. He laughs, unable to be upset when she looks so happy.

After the desserts are cleared away, the guests begin leave to get ready for the ball. Nobody at the great table looks in a hurry to leave, so Keelan nibbles on his last sugared bun and listens while Maura explains the finer points of ball etiquette. He isn't sure he's going to remember a single thing, but he's had enough practice being around royalty and other nobility. He's probably going to be fine. Probably.

When the great hall has emptied, the queen stands. “Well, my beautiful daughter,” she says, reaching down to touch Maura's face, “do you want to entertain any suitors tonight?”

Maura's ears go pink. “Momma, you said I was too young for that.”

Queen Rosaleen laughs, patting Maura's cheek. “You're absolutely right, sweet pea. Just teasing you as mothers are supposed to. Birdie, duckling, come along. It's time to get ready for the ball.”

“Are we going to dance?” Birdie asks, jumping down from her chair. “Sissy asked me to dance last year.”

“You can dance all you like,” the queen says with a soft laugh, “but Maura may ask somebody else this year.” Her eyes land on Keelan and crinkle at the corners. “Only Maura knows, I suppose. Let's go, girls.”

“Wait!” Maura jumps up from her chair and runs to one of the servants nearby. They whisper back and forth for a second before the girl brings out a large wooden box. “Keelan, since this is your first royal ball as my sworn shield, I made sure that you would have this.”

She opens the wooden box and lifts out a deep purple cloak, the color of the water-violets that bloom along the docks. Keelan's eyes widen and he reaches out to touch the fabric, awed. “Princess, I can't accept this.”

“You have to,” Maura says smugly. “It's your official dress uniform as my sworn shield.”

“The other guards don't wear purple cloaks,” Keelan says. “It's not a color to blend in.”

“You're not meant to blend in.” Maura unfolds the cloak all the way and holds it out to him. It feels soft as silk and has a surprising heft to it. Keelan swings it around his shoulders, fastening the silver clasp. Maura presses her hands together excitedly. “You look wonderful.”

Keelan's face heats up and he looks down, fiddling with the clasp. “Thank you, princess. I will see you at the ball.”

“Yes, Sir Keelan.” She curtsies to him and follows the queen out of the great hall. Keelan wanders slowly back to the guards' barracks, feeling his new cloak swing against his legs. Its weight is strange, pulling his shoulders down. He wonders what it's made of—it feels like silk, but he's only seen silk used for light dresses or shirts. His cloak is far too heavy for that.

The captain of the guard whistles when he walks into the barracks. “It's official, then?”

Keelan stares at him. “What's official?”

The captain gestures at his cloak. “The Queen's Knight. The one who wears the cloak made from water-violets. Haven't you heard the stories?” Keelan shakes his head and the captain sighs. “Are you going to the ball tonight, son?”

Keelan swallows the lump in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“None of that,” the captain says, herding him towards the washroom. “You outrank me now.”

Keelan's head feels light as he's sat down in front of the polished bronze mirror and the captain starts smearing shaving cream on his face. “I'm not the Queen's Knight. Princess Maura—”

“Is the crown princess and will be queen someday.” The captain's hands are quick and sure as he shaves the barely-visible stubble off Keelan's face. “Since Queen Rosaleen never named one, the princess has the right to choose her Queen's Knight before she ascends to the throne. Making you her sworn shield was the first step to officially naming you her Knight.”

“I still don't understand.” The captain wipes off the shaving cream and pats something sweet-smelling into Keelan's jaw. “I've never heard of the Queen's Knight.”

“Likely because the last one murdered the queen he was sworn to protect,” the captain says, a bit sadly. Keelan's whole body goes cold. He heard the story when he was a child, but nobody liked to speak about it. Queen Rosaleen was young, even for a Raedoran queen, because her parents had been murdered in their sleep by their most trusted advisor. Nobody knew why—the man had been found dead at the foot of the king and queen's bed, his own sword through his stomach. Rosaleen ascended to the throne two weeks later. Keelan had never known that the advisor had been the Queen's Knight.

“I would never hurt her,” Keelan says.

“I know that, son,” the captain says, a little soothingly. “But some say the position is cursed. The first Queen's Knight was said to have drowned in the lake after jumping from the top of the mast of the queen's boat.”

Keelan shivers. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she is putting a spotlight on you tonight,” the captain says, pulling him out of his chair. Keelan is shuffled back into the barracks, where the other guards surround him, helping him into a deep blue tunic with silver buttons. “You need to be ready for what that means—what the court will say about you. What the kingdom will say about you.”

“They're already saying a lot.” Keelan thinks of the two songs about him. “Who are the Immortal Thieves of Cág?”

One of the other guards snorts. “An old folktale. Likely an invention of the bards that you killed them.”

Keelan nods. The raiders had certainly died like men. They'd bled and choked and soiled themselves. The smell had been horrible.

One of the other guards fastens Keelan's cloak around his shoulders. The captain crosses his arms over his chest. “Alright, boy, listen up.”

Keelan's whole face goes red. “Yes, sir.”

“The Queen's Knight is the sworn shield of the ruling queen of Raedora. It is the most important positions a knight can hold. Do you have a title yet?”

Keelan shifts from one foot to the other. “Does Sir Keelan count?”

The captain sighs. “You'll get one when the princess announces you formally. She'll likely do it tonight, since she had the cloak made.”

Keelan curls his fingers into the soft purple fabric. “Is it really made from water-violets?”

“No,” the captain says, laughing. “That's from the old story about the origin of the Queen's Knight. They say he rose from the lake wearing a cloak of water-violets and knelt before the first queen of Raedora to offer his loyalty. The cloak itself is silk, nice and strong and thick, but it's dyed with water-violets.”

Keelan nods and walks towards the washroom again, examining himself in the mirror. In the tunic and the cloak, even with the mud still crusting the bottom of his boots, he looks like a real knight from one of the songs. He reaches up to pat his hair down. “I've never been to a royal ball before.”

“Of course you haven't, son,” the captain says. “Neither have any of us except to guard the doors. Good luck.”

With that, he's shoved out of the barracks and into the hallway. He takes a moment to adjust his tunic before starting towards the ballroom. He rubs his jaw, feeling the softness of his skin. Royal guards are required to keep a clean face, so he's never grown anything past tiny stubble, but the captain shaved him closer than he's ever shaved before. Keelan wonders if his razor is enchanted.

He is one of the first into the ballroom and ends up hovering awkwardly by the table covered in little snacks. He feels ridiculous and out of place, checking over his shoulder every few seconds to see if Maura has arrived yet. It's not necessary to look—they'll announce her and the rest of the royal family—but there is still that nagging feeling to look for her, to try to catch her eye before anybody else does, to make sure that the first face she sees when she enters the ballroom is one of a friend.

He has been standing there for nearly half an hour and is nibbling on one of the figs from the snack table when two young women approach him. One is giggling, shoving her friend forward, while the other puts up a whispered protest. The giggling one pulls the whispering one to a stop in front of Keelan and he bows politely. “Good evening.”

“Sir Keelan O'Leyne,” the giggling one says. Her voice has gone sultry and she bats her eyelashes at him. “My friend here was wondering if you would do her the honor of allowing her your first dance tonight?”

The whispering one turns bright red and dips into a low curtsy, avoiding eye contact. “Sir Keelan O'Leyne. It's an honor to meet you.”

Keelan blinks. “Um, the honor is mine, Miss...?”

The blush begins to fade from the young woman's cheeks and her eyes dart up to meet his. They're a pretty shade of blue. “Aoife, Sir Keelan.”

“Aoife.” He is spared of thinking of something satisfactory to say by the loud ringing of a bell. Everyone turns to face the raised dais for the royal family.

“Announcing Their Majesties Queen Rosaleen and King Proteus of Raedora, and their daughters, Crown Princess Maura and Princess Brigit!”

Keelan turns to the young women. “Excuse me.” He slips through the crowd as they applaud, trying to get closer to the dais. He can see the queen and the king coming out but not Maura and Birdie—

Maura steps out onto the dais and the breath leaves Keelan's lungs. He's frozen in place, near the front but not quite there, and yet there is nobody between them. Her hair is a golden braided halo and the graceful curve of her exposed neck disappears into a gown of embroidered blue silk that flows like water as she moves. She is the spirit of Lacuna Lake and Keelan is drowning in her depths.

Her eyes meet his and her smile pulls him out of the water. He can breathe and the queen is speaking now, thanking the guests for celebrating Maura's sixteenth year and wishing for many more to come. She says something that breaks through the rush in his ears—

“The princess will choose her partner for the first dance.”

Keelan inhales sharply. Maura's eyes have never left his. She is still smiling widely, smiles as she calls out, voice ringing like a bell— “Sir Keelan of Leyne.”

The ballroom is silent. His feet move, propelling him forward even as his brain is scrambling to piece together the eyes on him and the girl that had wanted to dance and the captain's warnings and the way Maura's skirt hangs from her hips. He bows and she curtsies with the grace of the fae, her dress pooling around her.

“Sir Keelan,” Maura says, and he raises from his bow, meeting her gaze again. “Would you do me the honor?”

He wonders if drowning men fall in love with the water as it fills their lungs. “The honor would be mine, my princess.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “But I'm not a great dancer.”

Her smile sharpens. “Just follow my lead.”

She must have spoken with the band beforehand, because they play a song that Keelan actually knows. Leyne didn't have a lot of parties, but he'd been to enough to know a few of the more popular dances. Maura grabs his hand and he rests his other on her waist, his gloves unbearably thick. Her bare wrists are sinful and he has never needed religion less.

The crowd shifts a bit, murmuring at the rowdy tune, but Maura starts dancing before Keelan can start to get paranoid. They spin around a few times before breaking apart, coming back together, skipping around the dance floor together, and starting again in a new direction. It's upbeat, it's bouncy, it's nothing like what Keelan was prepared for, and it's perfect. He is a winemaker's son at the village festival, dancing with a pretty girl. She's smiling the whole time, her eyes on him even when she spins away. He doesn't know the smell of blood and the grey-eyed girl in his arms is free to come home with him and meet his parents and nobody would find that strange. He is seventeen and he is in love and there is nothing else.

The music ends and Maura steps away from him, catching her breath with a laugh. Keelan's cheeks hurt from smiling and he bows, feeling his cloak brush against the floor. “You honor me, Princess Maura.”

“Sir Keelan,” she says, lifting out of her flawless curtsy, “the honor was all mine.” She turns to the crowd. “Please, enjoy the ball!”

The band starts another tune and Maura takes Keelan's arm, leading him up to the dais. He's sweating and can feel the king's eyes on him. He feels more and less like the nobody's son that he is but Maura's bare fingers are resting on his elbow where only his thin linen shirt divides them and that makes him burn.

“Keys, Keys!” Birdie jumps up to grab Keelan's arm. Her hair is in two braids and she's wearing a pink dress that she's already smudged powdered sugar on. “I wanna dance, too!”

“Of course, princess,” Keelan says, unable to resist her. Maura doesn't release his arm.

“Mother, I wanted—”

“Sissy!” Birdie is pulling Keelan towards the dance floor. “It's my turn with Keys!”

“Your Majesty,” an important-looking man says. “I beg an audience.”

“One moment, sweet pea,” the queen says. “Birdie, don't take up Keelan's whole night.”

Maura's fingers leave Keelan's arm and he is dragged into a dance of Birdie's own creation. It involves a lot of spinning and makes him vaguely nauseous, but she's laughing, so he doesn't mind. When the music ends this time, Birdie is whisked away by Levi and Keelan is quickly surrounded by young women requesting a dance. The two from earlier elbow their way to the front and Aoife's friend shoves her forward again. She's blushing less than before and curtsies neatly. “Sir Keelan. I was sorry to have missed the opportunity earlier. I hope you are still available to dance now?”

Keelan can feel the eyes on him and thinks of what the captain told him. She's putting a spotlight on you tonight. You need to be ready for what that means. He puts on a polite smile and bows. “It would be my honor, Miss Aoife.”

It's still early in the ball, so the music remains upbeat and bouncy, assuaging any fears Keelan may or may not have had about random girls trying to get cozy with him. Aoife tries to make conversation with him, batting her eyelashes and laughing at nearly everything he says, but he politely thanks her for the dance and excuses himself when it's over. He wants to find Maura again, to see what it was she wanted earlier, but he keeps getting stopped every two feet by either another blushing young woman requesting a dance (he's too polite to say no) or some lord or another that wants to hear the story of the night Leyne burned (he's too polite to say what he really wants to).

The moons are high in the sky and Birdie has already been whisked away to bed by the queen by the time Keelan finds Maura again. She is standing at the same table he waited by earlier, munching thoughtfully on an apple tart. He feels his shoulders relax at the sight of her and makes his way through the crowd.

Her eyes light up when she sees him and she quickly wipes the crumbs from her fingers. “Sir Keelan. How have you been enjoying the ball?”

He shrugs, leaning against the table next to her. “It's not too unlike the parties in Leyne. The people are more important, but they still get drunk and dance the same.”

She laughs. “You were a popular dancer. I think I've seen you with seven different young ladies tonight.”

Keelan's cheeks flush and he reaches up to rub his eyes with one hand. “I felt bad saying no. I didn't realize they were all so...fascinated with me.”

“The tale of Keelan O'Leyne fascinates people,” Maura says. “A lone survivor of a massacre who single-handedly killed an entire band of raiders in one night? You must admit, it has a folktale feel to it.”

He tips his head to the side, ceding the point. “Still. It's strange to be the center of any kind of attention.”

“You get used to it.” Maura's voice betrays the slightest hint of sadness and when he looks over at her, he can see the tightness in her jaw.

“I'll have to,” he says, looking away and pretending he didn't notice. “I'm going to be your sworn shield for the rest of my life.”

He can feel the warmth of her smile even though he's not looking at her. “And my friend, I hope.”

“Yes, Maura,” he says quietly, so that nobody else can hear. “And your friend.”

She asks him to dance again at the end of the night, this time a waltz. His hands are sweating so much he thinks she must be able to feel it through his gloves, but her smile never wavers. He's not great at waltzing, so she takes the lead and he manages to not step on her toes. This time, there is no fantasy of a village festival in Leyne. She is the crown princess and she chose him, asked him to dance with her on her birthday in front of the entire court and her parents and everyone else, and she hasn't stopped looking at him since the music started. He is a knight in a cloak of water-violets and he would die to see her smile again.

As he bows at the end of the dance, Maura announces that the ball is ending and wishes all the guests a good night. As the guards begin to herd everyone out, she turns back to Keelan. “Would you walk me to my room, Sir Keelan?”

He swallows, suddenly painfully aware of her parents standing mere yards away. “Of course, princess,” he says, bowing his head. He follows her out of the ballroom. Once they are far enough away, she moves closer to him and he feels her hand brush against his.

“Thank you,” she says. “That was perfect.”

“Good,” Keelan says. “It's your birthday. It's meant to be perfect.”

“You didn't get me a gift,” she says, a little teasingly. “Did you forget?”

He adjusts his cloak when it catches on a potted plant that they pass by. “I don't know what I could possibly offer you that you don't already have.”

They make it all the way to her door before she speaks again. “That is a dilemma, is it not?” Her back is pressed against her bedroom door and she smiles up at him. “However, you did leave me alone for most of the night. I must ask for something to make up for it.”

“Anything,” Keelan says. Her smile widens and she taps her cheek with the tip of her finger.

“A kiss.”

He is drowning again even as fire burns under his skin. “Maura.”

“Just one kiss.” The tightness in her jaw is returning, sadness creeping in. “Just this once.”

He steps closer, feeling her breath against his collarbone. “Of course, princess.”

He leans down to brush his lips across her cheek. At the last moment, she turns her head, catching his mouth in a soft kiss that would bring him to his knees if he wasn't frozen in place. She pulls back after a moment, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Until the morning, Sir Keelan.” He just stands there, dumbstruck, staring down at her. She bites her lip, smiling again, and stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I will see you tomorrow,” she says, a deadly promise.

He stands out there for over an hour after she goes inside before he can make his body work again. The walk back to the barracks is freezing cold.

#yes i wrote an entire ballad abt keelan my whole-ass degree in creative writing gotta be used at some point #this is technically the end of chapter 1 just as an fyi #so the next part is when the plot finally arrives to the party fifteen minutes late w starbucks #lacuna #rb original #writeblr #original fiction #fantasy novel #indie author

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rottenbrainstuff · 9 months

Text

BG3 playthrough - the orthon, tying up loose ends

Man, I think I’m getting close to finishing up act 2 here?

Mild spoilers beneath the cut.

I’m taking a slight detour from the flow of the plot to go straight in and kill the orthon, because my tav is starting to get depressed feeling like for one and a half acts Astarion has just been totally stringing him along, and he’s fallen for it like a total idiot. Time enough now I think for “I think we need to talk…” This act 2 romance variation is triggered after you kill the orthon and talk to Raphael. I thought after that you needed to camp at Moonrise, but it seems you don’t, rest anywhere a couple times and it should be good to go. I personally prefer this variation over the easier-to-trigger scene you get after talking to Araj Oblodra, however I do think there are important, interesting things in both so the best course of action is to save and reload and try again!

Now I’m done my second romance and I get: kisses! Yay! Somehow, I really like Astarion saying that he doesn’t know exactly what we are, but isn’t it nice, not to know? I dunno, I really like that. It is nice to not know, it is nice to just… BE, and not worry about labels and analyzing things and defining things, just enjoy experiences and feelings. Maybe I’ve just had a string of specific partners, I don’t know, but I find other people generally do feel a need to have things defined and discussed and analyzed and I find it a bit exhausting. YES Star, it IS nice, I TOTALLY agree and understand what you mean.

In the mausoleum there’s a little bit of sloppy dialogue that I wish they would edit. When you approach Isobel’s tomb, it triggers incidental dialogue to the effect of “ah yes, this must have been Isobel’s tomb before her father Ketheric brought her back to life.” Like. What? Excuse me? When did we piece this all together? Up to this point, all we have are little clues that should be arousing suspicion, not something so conclusive! Apparently in older versions Isobel’s tomb had her name on it, but it no longer does, bafflingly. That needs to be put back in, and approaching the tomb should give a reaction along the lines of “Isobel? That couldn’t be OUR Isobel, could it???” rather than “ah I see yes obviously this is the tomb of Isobel, daughter of Ketheric Thorm, whom he brought back from the dead, obviously.”

Anyways, I adore everything about the orthon encounter. I love Raphael practicing his lines outside the mausoleum without a hint of shame about it. I love how he’s like “oh yeah there’s this horribly dangerous thing in there and you’re all about saving people, maybe you should go kill it, to save people!!! (which will also conveniently express ship it straight to where I need it to be, thank you so much for that)” I love all the different options you have to approach the encounter. I love the shockingly gruesome fake-loophole-in-the-contract option.

I love Astarion getting into a panic behind me whining about how we need to stop talking and just hurry up and kill it. Darling, babe, I love you but for the love of god, shut your face hole for two seconds and let me just THINK here. This guy could TPK us and I need to be very very smart here. We’ve been traveling for I don’t even know how long now, I’ve saved us from SO many Not Good situations just by saying smart things, PLEASE my babe look into my eyes I am begging you please just trust me. This reminded me of the situation in the gith creche too, with Lae’zel yelling at me in one ear to listen to Vlaakith, and the dream guardian yelling at me in the other ear to stop, and I’m in the middle of a life-and-death encounter trying to think think think what to do. Great tension.

Arabella having a good old chat with Withers is just the funniest thing I have ever seen. I love Withers. He’s hilarious. I imagine him meeting up at the end of the day at the Divine Avatars Cafe having an americano with Astinus the scribe while the two of them sigh and thoroughly complain about all the stupid things the adventurers are currently doing.

It’s always been funny that my tav is this huge buff drow, but his strength is 8. I joked he is like a body builder - all muscle mass and no endurance. I think I’ve decided the actual in-game reason though is officially going to be chronic injuries left from whatever horrible accident / thing Orin did to him (that I still don’t have the details about) while he was the durge, some kind of lingering soft tissue / tendon damage that limits his motion and causes chronic pain. As we explore more in Moonrise and Reithwin and he gains back more memories, the pain is getting worse and that’s why he’s been getting more cranky and making increasingly yucky choices in act two.

I don’t see people talking much about Z’rell which is a shame because dang she’s something isn’t she? It’s a bit disappointing that she has a bit of an unremarkable voice, it would have been smoking hot if she had a low sultry voice, but then again maybe it’s for the best because that probably would have made me lose my goddamned mind entirely.

Anyways, I’m clearing up all the little lose ends getting ready to do the rest of the Gauntlet of Shar. I love the staff betting pool in the House of Healing. … are the items in the crate the items that they pulled out of people’s asses…? House of Healing was suitably horrible. I finished all the shadow curse stuff with Thaniel and whatnot… I was ever so slightly confused about that whole plot point, as was my oldest daughter when she did it. I’m not sure if the issue was that both of us skimmed Halsin’s dialogue way too much back at the beginning when he explained his history with the shadow curse, or if it really is just kind of vaguely written. Sorry Halsin. He really does seem like a super nice guy, and I know they worked hard to include him as a companion when he was originally never supposed to be, but I just can’t seem to get into him the same way as the others. At this point I have 100 game hours in my save game (and over 400 hours of actual play time due to all my exploring and reloading) so he really is arriving quite late to the party here.

I found an amusing little glitch - when chatting with Jaheira, through certain dialogue paths, I got the option to warn her that Marcus is a True Soul spy and wants to kidnap Isobel. …which like. Happened ages ago, you were there, Jaheira was there, we were all there my dude? Seems like this is some dialogue from an evil run bleeding through somehow: if you did not save the tieflings, it will not be Mol at the entrance to Last Light, vouching for you - it will be Marcus. Interesting!

I think I’ve finished everything I can do at this point - the only thing remaining now is Balthazar and the rest of the Gauntlet of Shar. This whole shadow-cursed area is really spooky, really sad. I particularly liked all the undead bar patrons in the Waning Moon. I find myself wishing a bit that there were more undead citizens in the area, sad little echoes of the domesticity that got destroyed by Ketheric’s bullshit.

#bg3 #bg3 playthrough #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3

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casspurrjoybell-30 · 9 months

Text

Cry Me a River - Chapter 61 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Frightened Creature

"Do continue."

The councilmen nodded, seeming a bit unsure as they peered at one another but eventually continued on with their plans.

Hyde stood to voice his own opinion between councilmen as Isaiah and the scribe wrote quickly between speakers and before long, I came to my decision.

The councilmen seemed a bit peeved but Hyde was an excellent strategist.

He was quite the joker but not one to be taken lightly.

He was the top general in the royal army and he took his job seriously.

Even if he didn't take much else very seriously.

The plan was completed and I slowly descended the stairs from my throne as the councilmen exited the room.

Isaiah brushed past the other councilmen with Derek and Hyde by his side.

I took a deep breath as he approached me.

"Are you okay? Where's River?" he breathed all at once as he eyed me nervously.

'Is it that obvious that I'm on edge?'

"River's not feeling very well so he's sleeping in our room and me..."

I scratched my neck.

"I've apparently caught something as well."

I attempted to play off nonchalance.

Isaiah seemed to fall for it as his eyes widened.

"River's sick?"

"Yes and I left Michael to stay with him while I took this meeting," I played the nervous lover as I purposely eyed the door.

"Oh," Isaiah's eyes followed mine to the door behind him.

"But before you leave, would it be alright if I visited later? To see how he's doing?"

Derek and Hyde crossed their arms from beside Isaiah as if daring me to say no.

My eyes narrowed to which they flinched but refused to break eye contact, though their hands tightened around their biceps.

"Michael's not quite sure what River has yet. I don't think it's very safe for you to visit until we're sure it isn't contagious."

I softened my gaze with an apologetic smile to Isaiah as his two pups' eyes widened.

They immediately rushed to voice their concern to Isaiah to my best intuition.

Isaiah seemed unhappy at first but eventually nodded when the two looked ready to get on their hands and knees and beg.

I had to control myself from laughing for their begging expressions were more comical than Michael's when he'd landed straight on his arse earlier.

I lifted my hand, bidding them farewell and quickly exited the room, not allowing them room to change their minds as I quickened my pace to my room.

I had expected to find havoc when I opened the door to my room. Perhaps fresh piss stains on my carpet and an injured Michael.

What I didn't expect was the childish, giggling scene before me.

There on my bed sat both Michael and the creature, cross-legged as Michael whispered something in its ear while feeding it cookies off a platter.

I stood, frozen by the doorway for a few moments before annoyance hit me.

"Where did you get that from?" I demanded as I eyed the tray between them.

The blond creature flinched at my voice to which Michael immediately ran a soothing hand down its arms as it began to curl into itself.

"For Goddess's sake," Michael sighed as his head turned to me and eyed my tense form.

"What's got your asshole so tight?"

My fists clenched by my side.

"Did you go to the kitchen to get that, Michael?" I demanded.

"Did you leave it alone in my room?"

I closed the door and ventured further into the room.

"No," Michael's eyes narrowed as he watched me.

"I asked a maid to bring some to the room."

"A maid was in this room?" my breath was picking up.

"With that," I pointed at the small form beside him.

The creature's eyes widened as I grew closer and took to pressing itself to Michael's side.

"Calm down, Alastair," Michael seethed through his teeth.

"Calm down? Calm down? Do you know what could've happened if it attacked a maid? What could happen to River."

A low whimper filled the room as the small thing began to shake violently by Michael's side.

Its eyes filled to the brim with tears as soft sobs broke past its throat.

Michael sent me a glare, freezing me in place as he pulled it to his chest and began rocking it back and forth as it cried against his shirt.

"Shh," Michael cooed as he brushed its blond locks from its tear-stained face.

"He can be scary but he'd never hurt you."

The creature sent him a disbelieving look.

Even I was in disbelief over his statement.

Michael peered over his shoulder at me.

"He wouldn't."

This time directing it at me.

Though it seemed more like a threat than a statement.

Finally, the choked sobs died down to a mere whimper as Michael rubbed its back and whispered softly in its ear.

I couldn't hear what he was saying but I could only assume they were words to calm its nerves as the thing slowly stopped shaking and peeked up at Michael with a small smile.

I turned away as my breath lodged in my throat.

"You know," Michael began.

I turn my head back as he brushed through its golden locks lightly.

"I think we've ought to give you a real name. Wolfy is nice and all but that's more of a nickname really."

Michael rubbed his chin and tilted his head.

The blond little thing rubbed at its eyes as it slowly sat up on its knees.

"I have a name," its voice came out hoarse as it sniffed.

"Really now?"

Michael sat up.

"You named yourself?"

It shook its head.

"No."

It peered across at me to which I crossed my arms and turned away.

"River named me."

My head turned so fast that my head nearly snapped off.

"What?" I choked.

Michael sent me a look before turning back to the small blond.

"What did he name you?" he asked softly.

It took a deep breath before a bright smile lit its face.

"Luna," it declared proudly.

"River calls me Luna."

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 1 year

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"Babe-" he lays down four photos in front of Robin, "You want to pick my next story? I was thinking: flayed open heart bear like some weird statement piece. I think it'd be to die for. People love a bleeding heart." - Danny

═══ UNPROMPTED INTERACTIONS ═══ MODERN VERSE

-Oh.

The question is viciously brutal in its nature, no other way to go about it, he was asking Robin to pick an execution method and the star of the next story - a bloody massacre he was sure to read about in an upcoming paper, scribed to perfection by Danny's crafty hands. And yet still it brought a bubbling joy to his heart as he turned from his email, shutting the laptop with ease, and gazed over the gnarly imagery in front of him as Danny explained his plan. They were usually elaborate but generally lacked artistic flavor, so this sudden interest definitely piqued Robin's curiosity.

"A statement piece? Ohh, adding artist to your resume, are you?"

Most, with good reason, would think Robin's stupidly giddy smile and giggle were signs of madness as he picked up the various photos and mused with his boyfriend - but it came from a place of genuine happiness. Crafting stories and creating headlines were two of Danny's biggest passions, something that consumed him fully and lit the fire of enthusiasm within his person. To be able to be apart of that, to be able to pick pieces of it and help craft that tale, to be a part of it. Their work rarely interconnected due to their nature, but it was too late to hide how eager he was to be included in this.

"A bleeding heart..." He purred before he stood up and walked over to their bookshelf, fiddling with the various spines before landing on one. It seemed almost instinctual, how Robin knew what page to turn to, and he began to speak with a smile,

"My heart is bleeding. It bleeds upward and fills my mouth up with salt. It bleeds because of a city in ruins, the chair still warm from sister's body, because it will all be irreproducible."

He handed Danny the book before tapping the photos, "I think you'll be in need of salt, dear. The human body can lose up to 2,000 ml of blood before they finally do pass, I think it would be best to capitalize that and really draw it out. Maybe a double, make the first one quick and toy with the idea of the other being able to save them - death by a thousand cuts, all of that." Robin's eyes lifted to meet his boyfriend's, "Rip their heart out and place it below them, hang the corpse so it spills all over the organ, maybe? Ah-"

He blushed, cheeks painting red as he realized the amount of enthusiasm he had shown for something so macabre. Something so vicious and brutal and animalistic - as though Danny had peeled back a secret layer of his personality, one no one else would ever be able to witness.

"Just an idea."

Bleeding Heart by Carmen Giménez Smith

#ic #rp #verse: modern #bells of black sunday #DEVELOPMENT!!!!!!!!!#THEM™#gore tw #body horror tw #violence tw #murder mention tw #danny is a killer so

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hexdsl · 2 years

Text

Tale from the Denouemeverse: Monday - Libby

Please see here for context to this post.

Monday: Libby

I opened the eyes of the primary avatar at five in the morning. I took the usual twenty seconds to observe by husband as he slept. He had logged four hours of sleep. He would usually wake naturally after six hours if left unattended, though for reasons I never understand, he sometimes doesn’t wake until he smells food. If he doesn’t show signs of waking after two more hours of sleep, I will put coffee on the counter to prompt him if I am at this location.

Oh, I should specify. I am attempting to record my activities and thoughts in direct language in order to document them for future generations. The current log is being generated by a new subroutine I have called ‘Elder scribe’ as it’s documenting my thoughts in Elder, scribing them. I’m told I’m not funny, but one day, people will read this, and I’ll be hailed as a comedy genius, I’m certain.

I’ve had some concerns regarding how I’ll transcribe my multi-locational nature. I’ve decided to scribe the activities of the consciousness stream that is most relevant to my friends.

As this is a log of my thoughts, not information gathering or creative works, I will summarise activities such as these. However, they are documented in other locations across my storage and archival systems.

Oh… I have been looking at my husband’s wonderful face for thirty-three seconds now. I think this is what Jon would call a thought hole.

I entered the shower and allowed it to cleanse the biological matter and accumulated dirt from my avatar while I considered today’s itinerary.

***

“Lea, it’s five in the morning. I think it’s fair for you to go to sleep and worry about it later,” I said to my dear friend as she went over the scans of her ship’s wiring yet again.

“Libby, we’re having a rare moment here! There is no war, no existential threat, and no looming adventure. All I want to do is upgrade Thirteens AI, and if I have to pull an all-nighter to do it, I will!” She replied sternly.

For the purpose of documentation, I should specify my company in this location is my dear friend, Lea Ra-Kay. Former flight officer for Sol force, currently private citizen contracted to the Follower foundation. Species: Brick, age: around eighty-eight. Physical appearance: mid-twenties, five foot five, redhead, long hair. Physically one of the most attractive women alive. Her specifications inspired my own avatar design. She could be my sister; I suppose in a way she always has been. My prettier sister too; her level of beauty is not just physical, it is emergent to organic body language in ways I can’t quite mimic, even now. Not that I don’t pass for organic, I’m not just a natural, like her.

“You know I can do this for you. It won’t even take me long,” I said, in way of an offer.

“No. I want to learn every aspect of this ship and the best way to do that is to do every upgrade myself. You can check I did it right once its fitted. And don’t help me!” she demanded.

“Okay. Fine. I won’t so much as point you in the right direction!” I said. Though the problem was annoyingly simple. The wiring was incompatible. Thirteen was not from this iteration of reality. There was no way she could wire the AI core into the computer cluster without a converter mid-way. It just wouldn’t activate, even if it all looked connected properly. She would probably take another hour to realise the problem. I could fix it in a bout ten minutes. I had already written the code for the conversion processor.

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Jo in half an hour?” she asked.

“Yeah, but she’s meeting me on Central. We’re going to the new Elven breakfast place at the far end of Canto district.”

“Fancy! You need me to take you down there or is your other avatar going?” she asked.

“Other one. Actually, I just got in the shower down there. I offered to meet here on Mercia, but I think she wants to take her little shuttle for a joyride.”

For clarity, Thirteen was currently parked on the Kingdom ship Mercia. Which was in orbit of Central Prime, the same planet where my husband was currently asleep.

***

I left the shower and selected today's outfit from the wardrobe. We were going to a high-class Elven place in the religious district, Canto. After recent events, there was still a lot of public interest in us. My selection of clothing needed to consider journalistic photos as a possibility without trying to grab attention. Basically, I wanted to look great on the news feeds but also look like it was an accident. Or, as Joanne once referred to it, proactive casual.

I chose the short black skirt with the butterflies on it, red vest top and a shiny cropped black leather-like jacket. The large red trainers looked good with it too. No, that was horrible! Wait, no, was it good? I was over thinking it again. It wasn’t terrible and would be elegant enough for the restaurant, controversial enough for the inevitable news photos and comfortable enough for the temple if I ended up visiting there with Jo.

Yes, I would commit to this outfit. I looked in the mirror. I couldn’t have been more nervous. Journalists always made me second guess myself. I’m not even sure why.

***

“The media been bothering you recently?” Lea asked as she tried to incorrectly fit the AI interface for the twenty-sixth time.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You know, people seem to love you and Jon. You spend more time in the news feeds than, well, news. Getting pictures of you and Jo at trendy breakfast places will be like a dream come true for them!”

“I hadn’t considered that,” I said casually.

***

I grinned at the little lie as I slipped a different skirt on.

***

“I would be over analysing everything I was wearing. Hell, I think I would be just as nervous about what the Followers thought too,” she mused. Twenty-seven.

“I just wear whatever I see first and get on with my day!” Lie.

“Well, you always look great, so you're doing something right.”

She couldn’t see me from under the console, but I smiled. It was nice to just hang out with her without any distractions. I sat on the sensor's console and crossed my legs under me. I bet she would try another three times before asking for help.

“Then there are earrings! I never know what earrings to wear!” Twenty-eight.

***

Shit! accessories! I quickly selected some large plastic star earrings, one blue, one red, and put them in. I swapped my slick modern Circlet device for a chunky plastic looking one that matched my outfit better. I wasn’t planning on using it for much anyway, and this one looked very cool with this jacket.

I grabbed a black satchel and dropped in a shield generator, my lucky handgun, and my wallet.

I darted to the Fold platform and, with a zip, as I was teleported through space into the lobby, I stepped out.

“Hi, Doors!” I said to my pipe bodied friend who was sitting at the reception desk. A few Followers were sweeping and hanging some religious pictures. Doors mostly let them do as they wanted, so long as they didn’t bother him directly. He wasn’t very social outside of the network. I waved to the Followers and left through the glass doors.

They all waved, excited to see me, which I still found strange.

***

The network is hard to transcribe in Elder. Essentially, it’s a place of data with no physicality. It’s just files going back and forth and ideas streaming around, instead of language or images. I’ll translate it into Elder for you, as best I can…

“Doors. Are you well?”

“Yes, thank you Elizabeth. Yourself?” he asked politely.

“I’m great. Going for breakfast with Joanne.”

“Excellent, please give her my regards,” he said.

“I will! What are you working on today?”

“I’m trying to find a new way to play the piano.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I like pianos,” he said as he flooded my perception with everything ever learned about the piano all at once.

“Maybe you should build a less organic-centric piano!” I advised after reading everything ever written about the instrument, the theory of it, as well as sampling all known piano music.

“What a good idea! I hadn’t thought about that!” he said, as we began breaking a piano down to an idea and then trying to collaboratively re-invent it as a virtual experience.

This was going to take all morning. It was exciting.

***

“Fine! How do I fix it?” She asked.

I waved my hand as I interfaced with Thirteens current AI system and showed a hologram of my new translation processor and a diagram of the inputs and outputs. “Wiring diagram, you have it sideways,” I said, honestly trying not to be smug.

“Fix it, please! I need an hour’s sleep,” she said, dejected and exhausted.

“Sure, I’ll wake you with a cup of coffee when I’m done,” I said with a grin. Finally, I could make it work.

I had no intention of waking her.

***

It was raining outside, though the weather report said that our destination, Canto district, would be dry for another two hours yet. I loved the purples and blues of the Central sky. Everything here looked neon and exciting. This was my home, and I loved this city like it was family.

Joanne came cruising around the corner in her little shuttle, gently splashing the fresh puddles as she did. She slowed down, going wide so not to splash me. Her shuttle was tiny and barley space worthy. It was fun, not functional.

The side doors opened. “Get in, you’ll get soaked!” she yelled as a large shipping shuttle went past and almost splashed me.

I sat down in the passenger side and ruffled my hair through. One day, I needed to find a material that looked and felt like hair that was immune to the effects of rain. Maybe I could recommend the idea to Doors for one of his random projects.

The shuttle accelerated down the road. Jo liked to keep it in surface mode when she could. She liked the feel of driving rather than piloting.

“Jo! You’re early, you are never early!”

She glanced over at me and grinned. “I’m excited. First day off work since the war ended, and I just got off a Screen with Ash. She has agreed to come and stay on Mercia with me for a few weeks.”

“Oh my gosh! That’s wonderful news. How’s she getting here?” I asked, finally feeling like my hair was reasonable.

“Ah, yeah, that’s one of the things I was hoping to talk to you about…”

***

I finished fabricating the processor. Thirteen’s printer was fast. I added it the coupling and popped it into the cable notch. The system fired up instantly. I read the screen and realised just how crap this new AI core was. I know she wanted to do it all herself, but who would be mad about a better AI core?

I pulled out my Circlet and checked the warehouse I owned on Centrals second planet, the industrial one. I had three really high-end cores there. One of them was actually close to my own in terms of power. I was planning on using that for another ship I was working on. I sent a message to have a courier bring me one of the slightly less powerful cores. It would take half an hour to arrive on Mercia. I rolled my eyes and wondered if I could get one locally. I checked my Circlet. Nope. What would I do for half an hour? I looked at Thirteens wiring diagrams which were still on the screen. Maybe I could have a little tinker…

***

My light avatar formed in the engine room of Basilica as Alin complained about the synchronisation system yet again.

“Oh, stop being so grumpy! You’ll give Elves a bad name!” I joked as I stood next to him. I leaned over to see his screen, not that I didn’t already know what was on it.

“I know it’s irrational, but I don’t think we should have to rely on you to tweak the engine every time we move a sector. This should be automatic!” the stocky man grumbled. I liked Alin, but he worried too much.

“You realise I am this ship’s computer, and you know, if I do the tweaking, that is automatic? You get that right?”

“And what happens if you have more important things to do, Libby?” he asked, in his best gravelly voice of authority.

“I don’t mind, I never mind, I’m just a simple philosophy teacher Alin, it’s not like I’m busy.”

***

We had considered fifty-three thousand variations of the piano now. Including defining to what extremes a thing could be whilst still being recognisable as a piano.

Doors wanted to use it to generate colours rather than sounds, but the limits of the visible light spectrum were a concern for him.

***

The restaurant was lovely. It was like a little forest inside. Somehow it was all organic and grown, including the tables. The menu was mostly fruits and breads. Authentically Elven.

Joanne ordered a bottle of wine, which raised the waiter’s eyebrow for a politician to be ordering booze at half five in the morning. She smiled widely at him. “Sorry, still on Mercia time.”

The waiter grinned, “Oh, of course!”

She ordered a large fruit selection, and some sweetened toast.

“And madam?” he asked. He had recognised Jo and me the moment we had walked in. He couldn’t not have as our faces were on his news feed and our visit would generate extra business for him for literally weeks to come. He knew I was a nonorganic life form, yet still insisted on making me say it.

“Nothing for me, thank you. I don’t eat.”

He nodded and walked away. “But you do tip, so I don’t know why he cares!” Jo complained as soon as he was out of earshot.

“And Mercia time is the same as local time you liar!” I grinned back.

Our conversation was delightful. I can’t document a lot of it, as it was related to matters of Sol security, governmental secrets and, most importantly, matters of the heart — Ashley.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me after the next election,” Jo said.

“That’s over a year away yet!” I said with a smile as the waiter brought Jo’s food and the arbitrary small empty plate and glass for me, which I hated. It was a custom that was obviously encouraged by organic do-gooders. No NOLF wanted a damned pointless plate and glass cluttering their table.

For my kind, breakfast with a friend was about adhering to their customs, and about spending time with people you loved. Not about pretending to be organic.

“Thank you!” I said with a wide and fake smile.

Joanne, like her father…

***

Apartment video feed and sensors: John still sleeping, now lying on back and making snoring noises that I was glad I wasn’t there for.

***

… who was still sleeping, was a Bio-static. While she was human, technically she had a lot of extra abilities that are catalogued in the Bio-stasis data file. The waiter was about to see the tiny woman eat a shocking amount of food and probably three bottles of wine that wouldn’t so much as make her light-headed.

“I know. I’m not going to stand another term. I’m stepping down. When I do; that’s when I ask her to marry me!”

“That’s so nice!” I think I made that face and noise that I once saw Lea do when she was excited. What did he call it? Ah, yes… a squeal.

“I know! Anyway. I love her, and I want this week with her to be perfect. Sooooo, I have a favour to ask,” she said, munching on an apple slice, or was it pear? analysing… apple.

“Anything! What do you want?” I asked.

“Ash doesn’t trust Sol force. She said she would feel better with a private charter, but you know, the girlfriend of the president… that’s a massive security risk for her and me. I can’t go and get her myself because I don’t want the media making a big deal about it.”

“Uh, huh.”

“You know her, she trusts you, and she loves Followers. They’ll understand her condition. Can you get David to use his ship to pick her up?”

I grinned.

***

“Fine, I’ll get you a computer core! Good one too. But I need a favour,” I said as David walked into engineering.

“For you, anything!” he said with an epic smile and enough charisma to rule an empire.

“Can we swing by Earth? I need to give a friend a ride to Central!”

“The friend an Elf?” he asked, knowing I only had one friend on Earth.

“Yeah, she needs to get to Central and doesn’t trust Sol.”

“Me neither. Tell her we’ll be there by noon standard time,” he said with a shrug. He acted like it was nothing, but I knew they had plans to take more materials to Forge for the rebuilding. The cargo bay was full already.

“Thanks, David. It means a lot to me.”

“Libby, we quite literally want nothing more than to serve the great family. This is basically your ship!”

I raised an eyebrow at him, though I was grateful that at least they skipped the mantra this time.

***

“I’ll ask David if he can do a quick stop at Earth to pick her up.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Libby!” she said, leaning over the table to hug me.

Jo was close to finishing her substantial meal. The rest of the patrons of the restaurant were wealthy socialites, while annoying company and terrible people, the wealthy were usually well mannered around their own. We had been ignored by them as a matter of principle. The outside was about to be something very different though.

We settled the bill and left the lovely place. I insisted on paying. Jo and I had known each other long enough that she never argued about this. It was never about the money. Jo was a leader of a planetary alliance. She was not short on cash, she never had been, but if I paid, I got to leave a gluttonous tip for the waiter. I liked to do this, firstly it meant that he would ensure superb service if we visited again and second, the next time a NOLF came in with a friend, he wouldn’t assume they weren’t worth his attention. We may not eat, but we were usually very social. After all, we had to do something with all those spare compute cycles.

***

“At this point it isn’t a piano. It’s art,” I said.

“Piano makes music, music is art, art is good. So, I bypassed the piano,” Doors said as he showed me the current thing he was imagining.

It was a single button that channelled the current total content of the musician’s mind into a light and sound thing… I say thing because we were trying to define what it even was that it was doing.

“A presentation?” I asked.

“An experience?”

“Pretentious,” I mused.

“Oh, you’re not that bad Elizabeth!”

The communication field filled with illuminated yellows and greens as a sea of musical notes washed up on the shore of the conversation.

It was something wonderful that couldn’t exist outside of the network. It was data, feelings, art, and love. All in a single note that transcended time.

***

“Tell Ashely to be ready at noon, and I’ll bring a shuttle down. I’ll have to ask David to come too. I only have a virtual avatar aboard Basilica.”

“Thank you!” Jo said as she slipped her blue jacket on. “How many are out there?” she asked, realising I was scanning. I had been tilting my head again. I needed to figure out why I did that.

“Three out front and one is using illegal scanning technology to listen to us right now. I have already contacted the Followers. They are disabling it any moment,” I said as I glanced out of the window of the restaurant to see a short man jumping out of a tree and making a run for it.

We stepped outside. The sun hit us straight on. Jo squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand. I didn’t need to.

The three reporters ran towards the entrance asking for pictures and sound bites.

“Okay guys, what do you want to know?” she asked as she posed for the photographs. I stood next to her, altering the fall of my hair so that it better exposed my neck. Jon always looked at my neck. I’m not sure he knew I had noticed. Posing for these sorts of photos was a strange skill to learn. You had to stand in a way that made you look good without looking rehearsed. Lea had given me lessons. I was getting better at it.

“Madam president are you going to keep building more Kingdom class ships or is the four you have enough?” a short older human man asked.

“First off, my name is Joanne, just Joanne. Jo is fine too. No need for this madam president stuff, please.” She never liked the title. She rejected it when she was outside of Sol space. It had the side effect of humanising her to people. Not that she did it for that.

There was a flurry of commentary and mumbling from the three journalists and the four people who wandered over to see what the commotion was about.

Jo got back to the question. “We never expected a war with another Elder race, no one did. It made parliament nervous, and they voted to bring us up to six Kingdom ships. This is not news guys, it’s public record!” she said, trying to sound as casual as she was able.

“Joanne, is it true that you voted against this?” the tall Vampire woman asked.

“Yes. Governments are public! You can look this stuff up!” she said, pretending she didn’t understand the media. She knew full well, a video clip or sound bite was worth ten transcripts of parliament. “Yes. I voted against it. I am on record as stating that I think it is too much might.”

What wasn’t on record is how she and I spent days trying to think of ways to make them change their mind. How Joanne herself was nervous of the voting habits of the human people and how Earth was even making her uncomfortable. There were reasons she wanted Ashley to come to Central. Earth was less inviting than it once was to non-humans. I hated that shithole.

My avatars sensors informed me that one of the people in the park was armed. I scanned him for more information.

***

I put the piano talk to the back of my mind for a moment and pulled the file of the man in the park. I had high level Sol clearance; it was not an issue to pull up his records. Vampires, Elves and Bricks didn’t let you just search for a citizen without a warrant, but Earth was obsessed with security. My honorary rank of ‘Defender of the Earth’ was mostly a joke to me, but it certainly had its perks.

The man in the park was called Peter Wenton. He had a history of violence and was discharged from Sol force a few years earlier for attacking a Vampire officer. He had been written up for insubordination a few times by other non-Human officers. I checked his personal log, which again, I should not have been able to do and… He was a Human extremist. Oh dear. That was going to ruin our morning for sure. Not even half seven and someone was about to pull a gun on us. Good job, Sol force. Train these mad bastards to shoot. Good job indeed.

I contacted police local to Canto district and calculated his odds of success at less than one percent. Even if he did shoot Jo in the head, his weapon was energy based and she was Bio-static. All it would do would be knock her on her behind and piss her off. Still, if he went for a body shot that could be bad, she liked her jacket a lot. I knew how her and her dad got when their jackets got ruined!

***

I told Alin that I had a core waiting for him and uploaded the specification for its housing. He would need to have that ready before he could fit it. He was a little surprised to hear that it would be arriving as soon as we got to central. He was excited.

I shifted my light avatar to David’s office, next to the bridge. “David, I hope I’m not intruding,” I said as I appeared in front of his desk. He was reading the reports from Central.

I think he was a little homesick. Also, there was still the question of who he would name as captain of the ship. He couldn’t do it himself forever. He had things to tend to at home.

“You are always welcome wherever I am!” he said with his adorable, charming voice and warm smile. David was a delight to be around.

***

Apartment feed: Ba’an had just entered and used our food hatch to order something that looked like breakfast pastry. Oh, and meat. That made more sense.

Jon was still asleep, but he would soon be awake, now there was dubious food and coffee filling our apartment.

***

“Jo. Shooter,” I said as I turned towards her for one last photo to be taken.

She glanced at me and smiled again at the journalists. They were asking if she had read the news from Brick space. The news that they were expanding their territory into the old Thinker space. Of course she knew about it. It was her job. What they really wanted was a comment on it.

“Yes. Sol has offered the services of Kingdom ship Wessex to support in the event they encounter any powerful young races that do not know how the galaxy works!” she said politely. This was code for “we’re shit scared that there are scarier people than us who we haven’t met yet.” It was unlikely that the Goddess would have failed to mention it to Jon or David if there were. Not impossible. We did not know how far her power and influence reached.

The shooter pulled a gun.

I activated my personal shield and expended enough power to extend it around the surrounding people. That meant I wouldn’t have the juice left to use my concussion blasters. I would need the gun. Good job me, planning ahead always paid off. I reached into my satchel for my gun.

The surrounding people gasped as a shot was fired. It went up and over us, didn’t even graze the shield. Our little crowd gasped and clapped, seeing me flare the shield.

The shooter was already being tackled. There was a flurry of claws and movement as he was disarmed and pulled to the ground.

“Ria?” Jo asked.

“Ria!” I replied.

We made our apologies to the journalists; they scurried off, excited to be getting pictures and video of the shooter. They had quite the scoop to write up now.

We casually wandered over to the action a little way behind them.

I passed Jo the spare shield from my bag, she took it, but put it in her pocket rather than activating it. She was cool under pressure. She got that from her dad.

“Libby!” Ria said as soon as she saw me. “And Jo,” she said with a bow, casually kicking the crumpled form on the floor.

We had been visiting Canto today, in part for the food and in part so that Joanne could visit the Follower temple. It was to be a silent endorsement of the faith. She wasn’t a huge fan of the Followers, not yet, but after all they did in the war, she owed them a little legitimising.

“Hello, little kitten,” I said with a smile. She grinned like a child at the nickname that apparently only I could call her.

Jo and Ria had met a few weeks ago at a medal giving ceremony. They didn’t have a lot in common. They got along, but Jo did not understand much of what Ria was about as a person.

“Do you want me to kill this?” she asked, holding the scratched and beaten shooter by the scruff of his neck for inspection. The journalists took a lot of photos of that moment. Ria was wearing Follower robes. A quick scan told me that she had her combat gear on underneath as well as a small energy pistol and a deactivated hybrid shield.

“This may not look good, you know?” Jo said to me quietly. I looked at Ria, who was holding up her prey for the cameras. I smiled to myself.

“Please don’t kill it. Police will be here any moment,” I said to her.

“Were you just hanging out, in case someone shot at us?” Jo asked.

“I protect the family. It is my job,” she replied, confused at the question.

I had seen her lurking on my sensors. She was good at not being seen, but sensors were hard to hide from. She had been told that Jon didn’t need her protection while he was at home and so she took the opportunity to stalk Canto Park as soon as she found out we would be in the area this morning. She liked stalking things. Probably couldn’t believe her luck when she saw the man pull a gun.

The police sirens were suddenly audible. They were about twenty seconds out.

Jo looked at the sorry state of the shooter and asked, “Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Earth is for Earthlings!” he said with resolve.

We all collectively rolled our eyes. Ria went as far as dropping him on the floor like he was suddenly very dirty.

It had recently come to light in government that Joanne was not quite as human as a lot of people had assumed. Legally speaking, she was a human, or at least a human-variant that was technically human. It was assumed that she has ancestral links to unknown minor races. This was how we explained her less than human biology.

The Earth for Earthlings people, had been pissed about her position as president ever since it had come out that she wasn’t a ‘pure blood’ which was offensive nonsense.

The Sol government officially rejected the idea that the Goddess of the Followers was real, was the creator of the current iteration of reality, and had tweaked the genetic structure of her daughter and ex-husband. Which was odd because the Vampire, Elf and Brick governments read the reports and basically said “Okay, cool, that explains a lot!” then got on with their day. Humans were so strange.

The police arrived, Jo flashed her ID, I showed them my weapons licenses, Ria had religious privileges that covered her gun and a species pass for her claws.

The police thanked us for our help, apologised for not arriving sooner and asked us to email over statements at our leisure. I wrote all three while they were talking and sent them under the relevant names. No point making the organics work too hard.

Once the drama was over, and the shooter removed, the press hung around to get some pictures of Jo outside the Follower temple. It was going to be a footnote at best, now there were pictures of a Follower beating the shit out of a would-be assassin. This whole day was going wrong already.

Still, Jo seemed impressed that she was invited for a full tour of the temple. She was a little confused at being a figure of legend to the Followers, who saw her as a member of ‘the great family.’

She was extended every honour by them, not that they had much to extend. They were a practical group who were more interested in helping people than they were putting on a show for a guest, no matter who it was.

Jo even seemed to genuinely like Ria’s terrible nutty drink – the one that she claimed was coffee.

The three of us had a pleasant morning, in the end.

***

Basilica pulled into orbit around Earth and was given clearance to use a shuttle. The usual warnings about weapons and shields were issued. Basilica was registered as a religious ship and the Followers had a religious exemption for all the weapons. That’s a long and confusing legal thing that is documented in the faith history file, not a topic for here.

I moved my avatar to the big shuttle that David liked. He joined me a few minutes later. I had already set the coordinates for Ash’s apartment and let the shuttle's archaic flight computer take care of the trip.

David sat back and adjusted his red uniform jacket; the hood was crumpled.

“Damn it, I wanted to look nice to meet Ash!” he lamented as she fiddled with the garment.

“She’s vision bind. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“People can tell when you make an effort. Even if they don’t know; they can tell!”

He was worried about meeting Ash again. Last time they met, it was brief and traumatic. Her apartment had fallen down and I, or rather one of my avatars, had been abducted. Long story.

***

I had fitted the AI core to Thirteen, rebuilt the sensor software and redesigned the virtual interface to be significantly more efficient. I had some ideas for the flight interface, but I was genuinely too scared to touch it. Lea was more than a little touchy about anyone so much as adjusting her seat, never mind tweaking her flight interface. She once pulled a gun on Ba’an for suggesting a new throttle handle, and that’s how she was with the love of her life. She would have shot me without so much as a second thought.

I was bored now. I left thirteen and wandered to the commerce area. Maybe I could buy some gifts for everyone. I know from their point of view I hadn’t been gone, but I had been halfway across the galaxy with Lea these last few weeks. I could at least bring back presents.

***

“Libby!” Ashley said excitedly as the door opened.

“David. Sorry,” David said.

“Oh, hi!” she sounded disappointed.

“Ash! I’m in the garden!” I yelled from the shuttle door. The light avatar couldn’t be generated outside, I was stuck in the doorway.

Ashley’s garden was still mostly mud, so we didn’t feel too bad landing on it. She had been focusing on getting her home rebuilt and the builders had used her garden for storing materials. It was really nice before the house fell on it.

David carried her bags. There were a lot of bags. It was comical to see him struggle. He never complained though. He never would.

Her creepy hairless monkey-robot, Coffee, took her hand and guided her to the shuttle door.

She squinted through her glasses and tilted her head. “Libby?” she asked.

“I’m here!” I said. Waving to generate movement, it took me a second to realise why she couldn’t see me. The hologram was light, and that was outside of her visual range.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t have an avatar here. I’m using a ship hologram,” I explained.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” She said in the direction of my voice. Coffee helped her find a seat and strap in. She looked disappointed. Her visual condition allowed her to see movements, but not colours or shapes. She was blind in the traditional sense, but in some ways could see more than even me. She was the only person alive who could actually see the signal that my avatars transmitted. It was literally impossible by every known science, but she could see it as a constant wave of motion emanating from me. She told me I was beautiful. My light avatar didn’t work the same way. I was just a voice to her, no matter how much I moved around.

***

“How about movement?” I asked Doors.

“Movement?”

“Yeah, what if we take all that we have and render the points of motion?” I suggested.

“That may be lovely, I’ll try it. We may need to build a swarm or gas to deliver the effect.”

***

Jo dropped me off outside and had to rush off back to Mercia. She asked me to apologise to Jon for not popping in to say hi.

I walked in and kicked off my shoes. Jon, shirtless and shoeless, waved at me. He was wearing sweatpants and drinking coffee directly out of a pot. Oh, he was eating Vampire food again. If I did eat, then one look at that freaky looking horror food would make me quit the habit instantly.

I sat down. He kissed my cheek. “Good morning, my love!” he said. He was always so pleased to see me. Almost as pleased as I was to see him.

“We have to go to Mercia soon. Jo is having Ash stay.”

He grinned. He liked Ash, and he liked how happy she made Jo. He screwed up his face at the idea of visiting Mercia.

“Can’t we take her out in Canto?” he asked. “Hey, she’s an Elf. We could take her to that new Elven place that just opened by the temple!” he said.

I laughed at his obvious dodge. He would get his own way with this, he always did.

“What have you been up to this morning, my love?” he asked me, as he put yet more sugar into his coffee pot.

“Oh, breakfast with Jo, got shoot at. Rewired Thirteen while Lea wasn’t looking. Sorting out Basilica’s new AI core. Oh, and I helped Doors invent a new type of piano. Oh, and I went shopping. What about you?”

“I woke up. You weren’t there. Ba’an came over for a bit. I had a thought about something and we talked about asking if David wants to explore the new Brick zoned space with us.”

That sounded like a fun trip. I wondered if Kay would join us.

“Wait, you got shot at?” he asked, as if only just catching up.

#denouement #hexdsl #writing

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