#the ashen witch

[carpe-astra]

Alliances

Keven Church

  -there's nothing special about tonight. except a slightly drunken vampirate who'd taken an impulsive sip from a pothead earlier. he's currently wandering the streets of the Red Light district....very close to straddling the border between there and the Northern Slums. the sweaty armpit of the city shared by hookers and crackheads  - D-d-demons arra gals best friend. Oi. Oi.   -he sings lazily beneath his breath  -

Anonymous

  -In the midst of a red lit cityscape, the glint of blue is bizarre and out of place but it doesn't last for very long at all. More bizarre perhaps, is the figure that comes into perfect stride beside the drunken dhampir, matching him step for step in silence.  -

Keven Church

    -he fucking screams  -

T'A FECK ARE YE, CUNTYBITCH!

Anonymous

  -As his scream rings against dirty brick walls, a gloved hand reaches out to clamp over his mouth and muffle the noise. It was likely no one would pay any attention, but there was always a slim risk. The figure pushed at him, trying to force him down into the darker shadows of an alley they were passing, free hand up to put a finger over the snarling wolf's maw of their mask.  -

Keven Church

  -he easily smacks her hand away after they've been swallowed by darkness. drunken, yes. intoxicated by dirty blood, also yes. instinctively unable to protect himself from a small shadowy sneaky lurking freak? never. he takes a quick few steps back in a swaying blur. closer to the harsh line drawn by shadows of an alleyway and the light from a buzzing street lamp. one toe crosses that line as he glares hotly  - Piss off, cunt.

Anonymous

  -Once they're in the allyeway, they stop moving even as he continues. They put their hands up, displaying they aren't holding anything. Moving slowly to grasp the mask, and pull it free. The distortion at the edges of their frame resolve firmly back into reality, and the strange shape of their body becomes more feminine under the long red coat. The mask dangles by their fingers, as the woman shakes out long blonde hair.  -

Alicia Montgomery

I have news for you, and an offer.

Keven Church

  -oh he's holding something already. an empty   tle of dark rum and a toothed combat knife. not yet pointing it at the figure...at her...but staring intently. and just...waiting  - Hah! Knew it.   -NOW he points the knife at her, recognizing that little cherubic face  - Cheap trick frem a cheap whore. Whatcha want? T'a Lasombra's pompous head onna pretty platter?

Alicia Montgomery

I always knew you were smarter than you pretended to be.   -There was a certain intelligence to coming up with all his colorful insults, that if applied elsewhere, would have reaped a great deal. Her attention flickers once to the knife, then dismisses it entirely by fixing on his weathered features.  - I want a great deal more than that. And I have been thinking to myself as of late, just whom might else share a common vision - or might, if that vision was explained.   -The woman's eyes, once upon a time, a dull and empty blue, now fairly glowed with a feverish zealotry.  - You have a problem. And I have a way to fix it.

  -She took a step forward, leaning towards him.  - A way where you won't have to ever run again.

Keven Church

  -he squints at her. 99.99% sure she's just trying to use him for some sexy evil villain plot before deciding he's just dead weight. they always do  - Oi.   -he wiggles the knife at her as she leans closer like a tamarin monkey in its cage looking for a stray french fry to snatch  - Back up. Yer rubbin' t'at stench o' desperation on me.   -his green eyes turn a bit more serious  - Feck ye know about me runnin?

Alicia Montgomery

  -She stopped in place, studying him. Unable to help herself as she took another step in. Extending a single hand towards him.  - I know a great deal. I was there for it, in the beginning. I saw, no, I still see how you twist and turn yourself to keep a step ahead. The others, they don't really understand what that means. But I do. Running to survive. What if I told you that you could stop running. You could put down roots wherever you wanted. Be with someone, or not. All because the Tremere were no more?

Keven Church

Ohhhhh boo. Kiss me arse. Ye talk like a goddamned Bond villain.   -he glowers, jabbing his knife toward her outreached hand just to get his point across that his personal space is not to be crossed. even if he is humoring her for a moment  - So yer big bad plan is t'a take down t'e Giant Ginger an' his magic army? How?

Alicia Montgomery

  -The swipe of the blade nearly goes unnoticed, but the fact he wouldn't take her hand went entirely noticed. Her fingers curl, arm drawing back in to herself.  - I plan to take them all down.   -Bright and burning, before a pause and an abrupt switch. Growing cool and distant.  - What have you heard on the streets about the Kindred community as of late, Keven Church?

Keven Church

Some gettin' burned. Some endin' up on milk cartons. Oldies turnin' tits up.   -he spits to the side  - Fuck 'em.

  -he definitely doesnt like the way she uses his full name. feels a bit too invasive. like a bad doctor getting a little too personal in their rectal exam  -

Alicia Montgomery

Exactly.   -There's a note of pride in her voice. For herself? For him perhaps, for noticing.  - My work. What do you think?   -She hooked the mask to a loop on her coat, reaching out to the grungy wall beside her to knock against it absently.  - I've taken all that a step further even. Experimenting.   -The others had found that safehouse of Nathaniel's, and the bunker beneath. She hadn't expected them to put so many clues together, or for them to dig so deeply into the website to realize the address was real. Or to find the records of what she had been doing. It had to have been Andrew.  Something cold squeezed in her chest, but she gave a rusty laugh.  - Admittedly, it looked dicey in the beginning, but I've been able to take away the... disease that makes them Kindred.

Can you imagine what that might mean for you? And people like you? Like me?

Keven Church

  -he laughs, and not in a fun "ha-ha you're so cute" kinda way  - I t'ink yer feckin' mad.   -he listens, for whatever reason. instead of booking it--cause the devil knows she couldnt keep up if he was quick about it--he hears her out. and just gives her a wtf look  - Sounds stupid. Ye t'ink I'm stupid?

Alicia Montgomery

Why? Why do I sound mad? Why does it sound stupid? Because if I were you, I'd be leaping for the opportunity to make the Tremere human.

Keven Church

Aye. If it works.

If yer not just tryna set me up.

If t'is ain't a trap fer yer favorite wankers I be around at t'at lil club house.

Alicia Montgomery

It does work. If you don't truly don't believe me, ask Dixie. Or better yet, ask Isaac. I tested it directly on Dixie and they've seen the evidence in the video files they managed to dig up.   -Gleaming eyes soaked the sight of the drunken dhampir in.  - I need a partner in this endeavor. One with your skills. Someone who can go in and out of places I cannot, and who can get information I cannot. In exchange, I protect you from the Tremere, and resolve the problem for you entirely by turning Konstantin and his Scourge, human. No powers, no anything. No need for you to run.

Keven Church

  -he squints again. his look of judgmental contemplation lasts a little longer than last time. then he waggles his dagger once more  - How I know yer not just gonna off me after all'a t'is?

Alicia Montgomery

You are not a Kindred, so I have no qualm with you to begin with. But if you have some way of guaranteeing I hold true to my word, I will do it.   -For the second time, she finally looks at the dagger.  -

Keven Church

Hmm. Aye.   -he gestures for her to stick out her hand like before  - Make yer promise.

Alicia Montgomery

  -She extends her hand out to him silently.  -

Keven Church

  -he cuts, no hesitation. a quick, deep cut right across the palm. unless she has some magic to heal it later, its gonna fucking hurt to use it. but he doesnt care  - Sigillum.   -a streak of red passes through his eyes and settles in his pupils for half a second as his own magic, fueled by Vitae, is used to begin a binding spell with her own blood  - Now. Say it. Say what yer gonna promise me.

Alicia Montgomery

  -It's familiar, like when she'd bonded herself with the Tremere. The cut burns, nerves gone numb until she couldn't even flex her fingers had she wanted to. Blood quickly pools, staining the leather of her gloves, dripping between the creases of her fingers and splattering the ground between them. Despite the deep ache, she doesn't flinch. This is nothing in comparison to what she had already suffered. Then she echoes his words to make her promise.  - I will not kill you after everything.

Keven Church

An' yer lil magic trick works. It'll turn em human.   -he says it like he wants her to repeat his words  -

Alicia Montgomery

  -She smiles, a pretty expression with a touch of smugness.  - I also promise that my serum makes Kindred human, and that I will use it on the Tremere.

Keven Church

  -he still doesnt fully believe her on that. at the very least, he doesnt have as much confidence that it'll be as effective as she seems to think it'll be. but...she makes her promise  - Sigillum. Verbum.   -a white hot thread of magic weaves in and out of her wound on the hand, disappearing beneath the leather glove a few times as it metaphorically stitches the oath into her very flesh. doesnt close the cut of course. but with a blip of red, she can feel her own words settle into her bones as the spell is sealed  -

Ye even t'ink bout goin back on t'at promise, yer arm will rot off.   -he smirks. just slightly before it falls  - Sounds familiar...

Alicia Montgomery

  -This draws a hiss from her, taking the stitching of her words into her skin with heat and magick. At the end, she cups her hand, cradling it shut to stem the flow of blood.  - I won't go back on that promise. But remember Keven Church. There is no where you can hide from me. I can be far worse than what you're running from right now. But so long as you do not betray me, and you help me, you'll get what you want.   -Then she frowned.  - Familiar how?

Keven Church

Jus somet'in I heard.   -he whistles, finally taking that one step back. fully into the cheap street light  - Seeya 'round. Partner.   -then he's gone in a flash of vampiric speed. using a little extra Vitae to keep the exit clean  -

Alicia Montgomery

  -Her expression grows reserved, slotting the mask back into place. Lingering there in the alleyway until several minutes had passed, and Keven was long gone. Then she stepped closer to one of the brick walls, tracing a glyph onto the ruddy stone, lines glowing with arcane blue light. When the light faded, left behind was a doorway she stepped into, then it closed behind her. Only a brick wall remaining.  -

[thebibliomancer]

The next time Thanos is beating up the Avengers, Jarvis is going to show up with sandwiches that will give them the energy to keep fighting.

I believe in his culinary excellence.

[heckcareoxytwit]

Scarlet Witch VS The Dead

Avengers v9 #6, 2023

[shuubah]

"The things we think we do for the sake of others aren't always what's best for them."

"Kindness and beauty can sometimes be quite cruel."

— Elaina (Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina)

[geordiecrow]

Elaina - 'Nekomimi Ver.' Desktop Cute by Taito

[MFC entry] [x]

[dekapm0048]

Umbrellaina

Fanart commission for anon user (Twitter), thank you! ~

[promethea-silk]

Coven

Lacquered nails shifted over the piece that hung from the choker at her neck. Another evening, another meeting but one that had not been on the agenda. A white-haired woman had stood before her only hours ago expressing that she had been summoned to an unknown location, and unknown manor by an unknown person.

Weeks prior and levied some sense of anxiety in her due to her more recent outting from Ul’dah to Thavnair – however, Vahalia was stubborn and if anything, extremely curious. Not many people sought out an audience with her unless it meant business. Most other chatter happened in the wings at hosted events and soirees, big and small. Women kept in houses and overworked through traditional roles merely gibbering about gossip involving her; rarely did any approach her. Only men with bolstered audacity.

Honey pools of spite regarded the room she had been brought to, a silver of reverence pitted itself in her core as she silently took note of the decor and the dimly lit parts of the manor – much like her own.

The crackling of the fireplace in the large room joined with the metronome ticking of a large grandfather clock, the quiet symphony only overshadowed by a quiet violin playing through the horn of an elegant gramophone sitting on a nearby table. It was a macabre somber tune, though beautiful all the same and it captured Vahalia’s attention for some time. “The Lady will be with you momentarily, Ma’am.” Offered the young woman, a voice of nearly a child though her features told the story of her mature age. She curtsied and quietly exited the room, the sound of the door closing behind her confirming her retreat.

The woman swathed in black lace and green and waltzed to the metronome with uninvited intent, touching upon something that wasn’t hers, fingertip coming up to cease the motion of the sway if only to disrupt the constant. After a few seconds, she released her hold and tipped the needle to watch the piece resume its count.

Mere moments would pass after the handmaiden took her leave when the click of the door opening called for Vahalia’s attention as Cordelia passed through the threshold to enter the room. She was a vision of morbidity and darkness and yet still somehow shone upon her entrance. A way of carrying herself, perhaps, feeling a bit drunk with the freedom to command a room now that her place no longer remained behind a man. “Lady Cress, I was pleased to be informed of your acceptance to my invitation. I must admit I have not had the enjoyment of entertaining company of my own for quite some time so I do hope the accommodations are to your liking.” A hand swept out around her, gesturing to the large yet cozy sitting room. The walls lined with dark portraits of unnamed men and women, preserved insects of the most beautiful kind, hues of mauve and silver accented the linens and curtains. 

The witch-woman turned a little more, curiously. The decor was something she had a few moments to take in but she certainly wasn’t expecting Cordelia to look the way she did – somehow she envisioned a blonde woman, blue eyes and slathered in crimson silk; a color to catch just about any eye. What a pleasant surprise this was.

“Lady Gray.” she pointedly addressed though respectfully, “I cannot say I know more than your name and now where your abode resides. I must have walked by here several times in my travels. Never once recognizing it as the Gray household – nor you.” Vahalia genuinely smiled.

The two women complimented one another in a way that was unexpected, the atmosphere and energy around them feeling of the same nature in some sense. Cordelia had already begun crossing the room toward the seating area and gesturing for Vahalia to follow when she replied with a huffing chuckle. “That is life when you marry into a suffocating family that prefers to keep to themselves. I do not fault you for not knowing much of me, I personally only just learned of you and yours, myself.” Finding a comfortable seat, she smiled to Vahalia though it was not of the typical nature in which one would smile, there was a veil of mystery around it but it was kind enough. “Surely I am not taking up too much of your attention away from far pressing matters?” 

“Not at all. I’m thankful you’ve summoned me, it means I spend less time sorting the pockets of men or playing guessing games with their emotions. Seems you’re a bit of a savior.” Vahalia found some measure of comfort in the seat across from Cordelia, a hand gracefully tucking her dress just behind her calf, “To hear of your hiding is a disappointment. I imagine running into you at one of the soirees would have been welcoming – atleast I’d suspect a rather curious and interesting person to run into.” her hand lifted to indicate, “-- your decor and such.” honey hues remained pinned to the hostess.

Her grin met her eyes as she glanced around the room, proud of her choices in every manner of decoration. “Mm, I would not be disappointed…I may have been hidden but I was simply lying in wait.” The words were dripping with enthusiasm in the way that she might have been filled with venom and prepared to strike, though it wasn’t menacing toward her guest but rather her would be ‘prison guards’. “While the place was never bright and colorful before my husband’s death, I certainly have seen to it being what it has become since then even further. Most would find it drab and morbid… it is refreshing to find another who enjoys it.” 

A casual tilt was afforded to Vahalia’s body, adjusting in the seat to find purchase along one of the armrests, placing weight on forearm, “I grew up in a house that had pretty dim candles. My mother….she was a sickly lady for the last few years of her life up to her death. It all grew on me I suppose. I’ve always found there to be more comfortable in the darkest recesses and shadows.” a ruby smirk flashed across to the Lady of the House, “Tell me Cordelia, do you enjoy reading?”

There was a slight twitch in her eyes, the lids narrowing just a bit as she listened to the explanation the other woman gave in her decorating preferences and why. “Hm… interesting as it was from my mother where I inherited my designing eye. Of course, not in the same fashion - which, I am sorry to hear of your mother’s final days- but she was a bit dark and macabre in her own right.” Dark brows perked at the closing question, her head tilting ever so slightly. “I do, but not of fantasy and adventure. More of… knowledge. And you?”

"Avid reader of much of the same. Research, tomes,languages and more. Folklore is all well and good when there is an element of truth in there somewhere." Honey-pools glinted, "I think I have a copy of a book you might enjoy. Well, a tome of sorts. My sister squandered her chance to learn from it and has taken to dallying in the kitchens rather than broadening her mind."

This piqued Cordelia’s interest pretty quickly, a brow raising curiously. She was somewhat surprised that Vahalia was seemingly comfortable with her right away, then again, something told Cordelia that the two were going to get along fairly well, also. “Color me intrigued…I was never one to fully commit to being stuck doing wifely duties, despite playing the part for most of my life. Tell me about this tome and its contents?” 

“You and I both.” Vahalia mused outwardly. Casually her nail tapped along the end of the armrest and she hummed across to her hostess, “It’s a little taboo. Can’t say I’ve read too much into it myself. My sister had shown little interest in wanting to learn anything within. It's a tome I picked up after making a deal with a…Thaumaturge.” Vahalia gently lied, eyes cutting sharply to the Lady Gray.

“A Thaumaturge, you say?” Cordelia regarded in question, her tongue slowly running over her lips just slightly simply as a habit when she concentrated. Grey eyes washed over Vahalia in thought before she continued further with a smirk and a bit of a darkened playfulness to her tone. “And considering you are the one offering its contents to be available to me I have no qualms in expressing that I’ve never shied away from the taboo. It is a shame that your sister has turned from it, though, I’d imagine it would be enjoyable to have kept it within the family. Pardon for having done some digging, but I hear she is to be married soon, yes?” 

A nod confirmed it, “She is and not too much longer now, before winter’s end. One step forward in making some steps to broaden some horizons. She was much more suited for that role than I could ever be anyways; though it will be an eventuality I have no intention on letting someone else handle the household for me..” Vahalia turned her wrist, hand ceasing to indicate as she spoke. A hum loosed and she regarded Cordelia intensely, “And you, condolences are in order. How long has it been?”

As Vahalia spoke, the other woman leaned her elbow to the left armrest of her chair, hands clasping together and resting just at her lips height. Cordelia had never much interest in marrying off either but it seemed that they both understood that sometimes sacrifices must be made in order to attain the favorable end result, and with no intentions on remaining in the marriage her parents had arranged for her, a few years as arm candy to the vile man was worth the position she was now in. With that, she gave Vahalia a knowing look, lips just faintly in a smirk as her brows flicked upward quickly in a sharp motion. “A little over a week… and between you and I, I’d much prefer congratulations.” 

“Ah, freedom once again then. Congratulations indeed. Be it far from me to judge, I typically prefer my freedom as well so I try not to take advantage of it or for granted.” she tapped the underside of her bottom lip twice, Vahalia reading the air between them as it was presented, “Do you have goals going forward?”

There was a gentle shrug as she lowered her hands to now simply rest in her lap. “Mm, continue to solidify this House as mine. There are a few more things that need to be taken care of to do so and hope perhaps you might aid in being a part of that. I have heard that you’ve recently come to establish a new tradeship. While my late husband had his connections, I would prefer to begin making my own and seeking to further extend our reach beyond Ishgard more than he had.” “Fair. You would also be correct.” Vahalia tipped her head and loosed another hum, thinking on the weight of their conversation further, “I have a ship, The Sirensong. It is seafaring so I can completely negate the need for ceruleum. The slower option of course when it comes to transport but much more cost-effective. Eventually, I hope to purchase another to get a small trade company underway. People can pay me to bring their goods all over without so much as lifting a finger – the middle man, essentially. Given that I work with a company already situated to assist in that as well, its a bit of a win/win.” Vahalia’s tongue passed over her lips and rested to the corner of her mouth before speaking again, “Are you interested in having a hand in the transport part of trade or having something transported?”

Cordelia allowed a few simple nods as she listened to Vahalia. She knew that the company mentioned was the Ashen Wolves thanks to Wren having gathered the details on her prior, though she felt no need to let on that she knew. “Mm, currently I am looking at having goods transported. Our lines of finance come through textiles and jewels or jewelry, though I am in the works of procuring even more freedom with the Gray coffers than what I have been allowed and once that is handled, then I am planning to extend my reach to other ventures and see that it goes within and beyond Ishgard.” 

"I see. Coffers can be tricky business, I work as an accountant for a company. What is more I think jewelry and textiles is good trade. Best to extend to places that have the least competitive outreach. Thavnair for example would be a little harder to compare your good to theirs but I suspect jewelry and textiles here in Ishgard is another matter or even in Ul'dah. Plenty to consider, of course." Vahalia smirked gently.

“Yes well, none of it will matter until I have a situation handled which is being taken care of presently.” Cordelia paused as she mulled over a further explanation of her situation. Her foot bounced just slightly as the one leg rested over the other. “Quite frankly he had everything set up to see that I was anything but free if he should…have an accident. But as I said, it’s being taken care of. Once it is, perhaps we can discuss this further and if there are opportunities for building a working relationship.” 

“I think I would enjoy that quite a bit.” Vahalia smirked across to Cordelia and offered a firm nod, “I’m sure I’ll have more interesting information to share with you at that time and given how you’ve found me I’m sure you needn’t direction on how to contact me should you feel you need to.”

A dim chiming chuckle escaped Cordelia as she shrugged lightly. “What can I say, My girl does her job well.” She waved a hand toward Vahalia with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from the more pressing matters I’m sure you have to tend to…Despite that no doubt my company is likely much more entertaining. Though…feel free to come by at any time.”

The company rose, smoothing out parts of her attire, “No rest for the wicked, they say. Make good choices, dear.” Vahalia practically purred and she made for the door pausing briefly to continue, “Oh and Cordelia? Light your candles.” she left her hostess with only to open the door to the sitting area herself, the Lady Cress seeing herself out as it was something she didn’t seem too bothered by. If caught, the Lady Gray might have spotted a small wink sent her way during the departure.

Still sitting, Cordelia simply grinned to herself at her guest’s departure. She watched as Vahalia left before she turned to settle back in her chair to gaze into the fireplace allowing that grin to linger a moment. A voice inside told her this was the simple beginning to something deeper, something great. 

[ Collab with @umbral-flare-ffxiv​ !!]

[moved-to-void-kissed]

regardless of the forms we take, we'll always stay together - a harbinger and agent, a lady and a nightingale, a witch and her familiar

Here is my render for today, which is the twenty-fourth day of the month! It's of Signora - or I suppose, given that this is her Crimson Witch form, Rosalyne - and my self-insert Alectra, sharing a kiss. ..It isn't exactly obvious here, but for context, this is the form Signora takes when you fight against her as a boss in the game. She's about twice her normal height in this form, which is why she can pick Alectra up and hold her so effortlessly above the ground here ^-^

Tag list: @catake | @masterofmasters | @wazzuppy | @cherry-bomb-ships | @call–me–home | @beeon | @coralward | @crosshairswife | @pandapup | @altamont498 | @mercuryships | @lemonloven (to be tagged in what I make, please see this post!)

Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required!~

[aetherotransformer]

the funny thing about aion is i knew what an azem was before i even started playing ffxiv (last year). so i had several months to think about it while i went through the msq and then when it actually become relevant i just made him an expy of featherine from umineko instead

[forgottenbones]

The Dark Side of the Moon Logic | Ashens

[rowan-blood]

Taran (WIP contains Spoilers)

He/Him

Alternative names: The Wolf

Full name: Taran mac Delbaith

True name: Icarus (given to his bones by Saffron)

Kind: High fey

Age: Unkown

Magic: None (Ashen by Verity Holt's curse on the mac Dela family)

Ash Magic( by having the bone ashes of King Clymeus on his own bones): Glamouring Other magic that involves only his own body Sídhe ability: Wolf Transformation

Level: -

Ocupation: Fugitive (Book 3) Familiar (to Saffron, Book 3) Student (at Morrígan Academy, Book 1, Book 2)

Status: Alive

Location : Unknown (Book 3) Danann House, Morrígan Academy, Spring Court (Book 1, Book 2) Mairwen Academy, Avren, Spring Court (Before Book 1) Winter Court (born)

Born: Winter Court

Family: Anysta mac Dela (sister) Clymeus mac Dela (ancestor) Lady Murva (relative)

Relationships: Cylvan dé Tuatha dé Danann (childhood friend: before Book 1, ex-fiancé: Book 3) Saffron (annoyance) Eias (personal threadweaver: Book 1 - Book 2) Magnin (personal healer/silver smith: Book 1 - Book 2) Glass (victim: before Book 1) Arrow (victim: Book 1) Cloth (victim: Book 1) Berry (victim: Book 1)

Affiliation: Mac Delbaith Family

Jewelry: -

Description: Copper Skin Golden-green eyes Shoulder-length wavy brown hair Resembles King Clymeus Bigger frame than Saffron's

Likes: Cylvan

Dislikes: Saffron His family

Trivia: He smokes floral tobacco sometimes

TAGGED TARAN

art by @skellygraves via twitter

art by @morlevart

[swallowtail-ageha]

Divided between making anri in my hc a man or a woman because on one hand. Lesbians on the other ANRI'S MALE VA

[carpe-astra]

Baby, just walk away, just walk away You heading straight for danger Ay, don't make a mistake I'm just a little bit out of my mind

[fierysoulcreations]

Wandering Witch The Journey of Elaina Bag

Material: PU Leather

Comes with Scrolls.

[sendpseuds]

Prompt: Anakin plays Fuck, Marry, Kill with the Clones or someone else when his Master comes in.

“Fuck, marry, kill: Ventress, Dooku, Greivous.”

“Oh screw you,” Rex groans, his head falling back, eyes squeezed shut like he can erase the question from his mind if he tries hard enough, “That’s horrible.”

“That is the point of the game, Captain.”

Anakin and the handful of clones around the table chuckle mischievously at the horrified look of obvious annoyance on Rex’s face, prodding him with playful elbows and a teasing stream of “Come on, who’s it gonna be? You have to answer!”

Laughter flows easily tonight, still a few days travel away from their next engagement, enjoying the calm comfort of companionship and Waxer’s homebrew [well, Anakin is not entirely certain it could reasonably be described as enjoyable but it certainly is potent.]

“Kill Greivous,” Rex says with an almost sober certainty, “That spider freak gives me the creeps.”

There’s a general hum of agreement around the table before Rex continues.

“I guess marry Dooku? Hope the old man croaks immediately after the wedding?”

“So you’re fucking the witch?”

“Guess so,” Rex shrugs as a few other clones mutter that they wouldn’t exactly mind taking the sith assassin for a ride.

“Your turn, General” someone announces, a chorus of “Ooooo”s sounding from all around him.

“Alright,” Anakin replies coolly, folding his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair, “Hit me with it.”

Rex hums consideringly, drawing out the prompting question of “Fuck, marry, kill,” like he’s trying to come up with the most horrifying combination possible and Anakin only narrows his gaze.

“Master Yoda—“

“You bastard,” Anakin scoffs before the grand master’s entire name has even leaves his captain's mouth.

“Master Jocasta Nu—“

“I could have you demoted, you know.”

“And—“

The word seems to stretch on forever as Rex’s eyes dart around the room, trying to decide on the final name in his torturous trilogy. Then his eyes brows shoot up, his eyes widening over Anakin’s shoulder.

“General Kenobi!”

Anakin’s heart lurches, a hot twisting in his gut at the mere suggestion that he could ever kill Obi-Wan. Then at the thought of fucking him. Marrying him.

“Okay, hold on, I need some clarification,” Anakin blurts out, the brew in his blood loosening his lips, “If you marry someone, you can fuck them whenever you want, right?”

Rex doesn’t seem to understand the question, or maybe he’s had one glass too many, his eyes glazed and face gone a bit ashen.

“Like, it doesn’t have to be a sexless marriage, does it?”

“Uh, sir— General Kenobi is—“

“Amazing? Yeah, I know. He’d be the perfect husband but if I had to wake up every morning to that man in my bed and couldn’t fuck him—“

Behind him, someone clears their throat and suddenly Anakin realizes not a single clone is looking at him.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you wouldn’t kill me.”

[1][2][3][4]

[prythianpages]

Into the Dark | Eris

Eris x Chaos Witch Reader | Summary: You have a vow to uphold but time is clicking. The darkness that lurks within threatens to take over you but Eris uses the magic of your bargain and bond to bring you back to him.

Day 1 of @erisweekofficial for bargains/bonds

warnings: brief mentions of small injuries (cuts) and death

a/n: This was originally supposed to be posted along with my other witch series but 3K words is too long to be considered a drabble so I decided to post it on its own. I had hoped to post an intro/prologue for this series first but I really wanted to post something for Eris week so I hope this makes sense. If not, then I'm so sorry and hope this can be read as a stand alone for now.

Whispers in the wind stir violently among the Autumn trees, sending leaves spiraling to their fated downfall. A shiver runs up your spine as the wind’s cold fingers grip you, goosebumps rising in a wave over your skin, threatening to burrow into your very bones. The whispers are not just furious—they are vengeful.

A storm of voices lashing at you. 

Your heart hammers madly against your chest as your legs move on their own, driven by those whispers. The moon casts its silver light upon you but tonight, it offers no comfort. There’s something dark, something wicked awakening from somewhere deep inside.

Branches claw at your exposed arms and ankles, tearing into your flesh. But your feet keep moving. Relentless, unstoppable. Even as your vision blurs and your mind drowns in the chilling darkness. You don’t need to see where you’re going—you can feel it.

It’s like a pull deep within. You can feel the gloom looming ahead. The despair, the anguish. With each step, that pull grows stronger, the wind grows colder. It brushes against your skin, tangling in your hair. The trouble stirring in your chest harmonizes with the whispers carried in the howling wind, threatening to pull you down with them.

“Please.” You find yourself whispering–begging.

“We need you.” The wind whispers in protest.

Your steps falter, and as you blink to clear your vision, a cold dread settles in your chest. 

The sight before you is almost unrecognizable, a stark contrast to the place that once thrived with life and vibrant energy. Now, it lies shrouded in darkness, a harrowing shadow of its former self. The autumn flowers, once bright and full of life, wither on their stems, their colors drained. The trees nearby are twisted and gnarled, their ashen branches sagging under the weight of despair.

There were no fireflies fluttering about, no chirping of cricket or night birds. No sign of life. Only death.

It’s eerily silent for a moment until the wind picks up again and the mournful wail of the wind reaches your ears. It sings a song of fury, of vengeful mourning. A lament for what has been lost–what has been wrongfully taken.

At the heart of it all, where a great and magnificent tree once stood proudly, there is now only a void. This was no ordinary tree.

It was the tree of wisdom–the Mnemosyne. It bore magical apples that glowed softly, their surfaces a mesmerizing blend of ruby and gold. Your father had told you stories of it growing up and when you began to practice witchcraft, Deirdre showed it to you.

Deirdre had been your mentor. For many centuries, she had guarded the tree. Sworn to protect it with her life and she took that vow gravely, upheld it until her last breath…

And now, by a wicked strum of fate, it was your turn to protect the Mnemosyne.

But you found yourself in a more precarious situation than your predecessors. High Lord Beron, in a ruthless display of his power, had uprooted the tree and taken it from its sacred grove. Its roots, once intertwined with the ancient magics of the forest, had been severed. Where Beron had taken it, and what he planned to do with the Mnemosyne, was still unknown to you, but by the lengths he had gone to take it, you could only assume his intentions were far from pure.

Returning the Mnemosyne to its rightful home was of the utmost importance. The longer it remained away from the forest, the greater the risk that its memories, and the history it held, would wither and fade. Entire centuries of knowledge could be lost—forgotten forever. The thought chilled your blood, filling you with an overwhelming unease. 

You had to bring this tree back and restore peace to this forest. Even if it cost you the same price it cost Deirdre. Death was a stranger but not one you feared. It was oblivion you feared. To lose the very essence of yourself. It’s why you refused to let the wicked darkness that lives in you take over. You feared it’d consume you whole.

So Eris Vanserra it was. 

Desperate times had called for desperate measures. You found yourself striking a bargain with Eris Vanserra, Beron’s eldest son. Eris, with his sharp eyes and sharper tongue, had always been a figure of suspicion and intrigue. His loyalty to Beron was unclear, but his cunning and ambition were undeniable.  

Never had you imagined seeking his help. Caught in a delicate dance of mistrust and shared ambition, the bargain was the only way to ensure your safety. That was, until fate played a merciless hand and those strings of fate tethered your soul to his…

A mating bond.

It snapped into place like a steel trap, the golden threads appearing the moment your life teetered on the edge of danger. There had been no warning. Only a sudden, fierce tug that anchored your soul to his. One heartbeat you were fighting for survival, and in the next, you felt the bond latch onto you. Irrevocable and final.

You should thank The Cauldron—it did save your life, after all—but at what cost?

You’d worry about it later. At the very least, the invisible chain that bound your fates together strengthened the bargain you made. A mutual safety net. If you died, a part of him died too. Any loophole of betrayal the two of you had planned had been immediately forfeited the moment the bond snapped.

Because yes, he had promised to help you with the Mnemosyne tree and you had promised to help rid Autumn of Beron. A win-win situation for you both. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t coax him with one of your potions, poison his mind as you’ve done with his brothers to encourage him to do more of your bidding…

However, now it did. There were some things uncertain to you about mating bonds and you worried about potential consequences if you were to sneak one of your potions into his food.

Tears pricked your eyes as the whispers increased with the howling wind, a distant echo of sorrowful cries and anguished screams. It brought you back to the dire situation at hand. The very reason for your deal with Eris.

The forest wanted you to feel what it did. To feel the overwhelming grief, the melancholic heartache. It stirred the shadows sleeping in the pendant you wore around your neck–the ones that harmonize with the darkness that lives inside you now.

 “It’s a burden you must carry.” 

“No,” you cried, dropping to your knees, fingers clenching around the ruby pendant. It was a futile attempt to soothe the shadows kept inside back to sleep. “I can do it. I just need more time. Please.”

But it’s not the whispers carried by the wind that respond this time.

It’s that wicked darkness that has been lurking within you.

The forest grows angry. If you do not answer its call, we will.

That darkness writhes further into your chest. Your breath hitches as you feel it wrap itself around your heart, your body hunching forward.

You cannot keep us away. You are us now and we are you.

“No.” You repeat again but your voice is losing its resolve.

Let us out!

As if hearing that dark voice within, the wind picks up, whirling around you like the beginning of a storm. The whispers in the wind grow louder and so do the voices in your head until you can no longer discern which is which. With a pained cry, you clutch your pulsing and aching head.

You squeeze your eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you try to push the looming darkness away. It’s another futile attempt. The darkness has a firm grip on you, awakened by the howling wind and strengthened by its screaming pleas…

**

Eris found you in the forest.

One glance at you and he knew what was happening. Your body was hunched over, trembling hands pressed tightly against your ears as the wind whirled around you violently, rustling through your hair. The three hounds he brought with him tensed and let out low growls, their keen eyes on the glowing pendant wrapped around your neck.

The hour was late and he had been about to succumb to the sleep his eyes had begged for when he felt a strange stirring in his chest. Until he recognized that it was coming from the bond–from you. The two of you often shut each other out. He did not want to project his emotions to you and he sensed you felt the same.

So for him to feel a tug against his ribcage from you…he knew something was wrong or about to be.

Eris turns to his hounds, the sharpest of his pack. He now realized why they had been insistent on coming with him. The others had tucked themselves into their beds after a goodnight pat on their heads. “Stay,” he says firmly and though their instincts sense danger, they heed his command. Albeit, reluctantly.

He approaches you with slow and cautious steps, despite the urge to run to you. He tells himself it’s the bond. As he gets closer, he can hear you murmuring something but it doesn’t sound like you. Your voice carries a venomous undertone, dripping with malice and ancient wisdom. 

“You are us now and we are you.” The voice repeats over and over again like a serpent hissing in the dark.

A lump forms in his throat but he wills himself to call out your name, hoping you hear him among the many voices swirling around you.

He watches with bated breath as your hands, still trembling, fall from where they had clutched at your ears. Slowly, your head lifts upwards. Your gaze meets his and he finds himself held captive.

Your eyes are glowing red, the way they always do when you call upon your magic. But it’s not that crimson gaze that had startled him. It’s the veins surrounding your eyes that do–they have darkened, giving you a more sinister appearance.

“Son of Autumn. Have you come to play?”

The hounds, who remained feet away, release another growl.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Eris asks, his heart racing as his amber eyes search your face for any sign of you.

Something flickers in those crimson eyes of yours, a brief hesitation that makes the darkness falter. Eris noticed it instantly, his heart tightening with a sudden urgency that compels him to step closer. He can feel you now—the sharp chill emanating from your body, a coldness that bites at his cheeks. It sends a shiver down his spine as the breeze rustles through his hair.

His body instinctively warms in response, the fire in his veins flaring brighter as if to combat the icy dread that clings to you. You were trembling, and Eris kneels before you, his eyes never straying from yours. He reaches out tentatively to that bond but is met with a steel wall.

So he reaches out physically. You flinch at the warmth coming from him before he can actually touch you and fall back onto your hands. It seems the darkness within you is desperate to put distance between you both.

“She needs us. She can’t do this alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” Eris says softly, ignoring the darkness and speaking directly to you. He knew better than to acknowledge the voice, fearing it would only give it more power. “You have me.”

“The forest wants its beloved back.” The voice hisses and your head tilts slightly, gaze narrowing at him. “It grows more restless every night. Fear makes you hesitate but not us. We can do what you cannot bring yourself to do.”

“Y/n.” Eris calls your name again. This time, when he reaches for you, his hands find their mark, cupping your face with a tenderness that surprises even him. Your skin is frighteningly cold. It fills him with a deep unease, a desperate need to bring warmth back to you.

Your trembling begins to subside, and the wind that had howled around you starts to calm. Eris remains cautious but feels a glimmer of hope. He could do this. He could bring you back. “We made a bargain, remember?” he continued.

“A bargain…”

That glimmer of hope flares up as you sound like you again. Something he’d never thought he’d feel as he often complained about your voice–how it could grate on his nerves. But now, it was the only sound he longed to hear.

The mark of your bargain appears–a ring of fire around your wrist–at the mention of it. It burns faintly with embers like a delicate bracelet, reminding you of the promise you made. That very same ring of fire appears on his left wrist, reflecting in your eyes. It fades away after a moment but the burn of it lingers.

“Yes.” Eris almost smiles. “Y/n, are you with me?”

Your body gives a shudder, wanting to escape from him. His hold on you tightens. The red glow to your eyes slowly gives out, the veins that had darkened around your eyes disappearing. Color returns to your cheeks, coaxed back by the warmth Eris is pouring into you.

“I’m with you,” you breath, your eyes wide with lingering apprehension. Eris’s hands remain firm on your face, holding you steady as you eyes wander. When you look back at him, your eyes seem distant, unfocused.

His brows draw together in concern, casting shadows over his troubled eyes. But before he can say anything, you do, a trace of your usual scorn creeping into your voice. “Why are you looking at me as if I’ve grown two heads?”

There you are.

Relief washes over him, so warm and overwhelming that it brings back that tightness in his chest, strumming those golden threads. The urge to pull you into his arms, to hold you close and never let go, is almost overpowering. But Eris ignores it, instead leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours.

You were no longer cold. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding—a sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. A mixture of relief and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

“Have you gone mad?”

“No,” Eris replies, reluctantly releasing his hold on you. The warmth of his touch lingering on your skin as he straightens up. He brushes at the leaves clinging to his pants, an attempt to regain his usual composure. “But you almost did.”

He extends his hand out to you and you stare at it for a moment, your gaze heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. “It happened again…” Your voice was barely a whisper, more to yourself than to him. Realization settled over you and your shoulders slump.

“Come on,” Eris says, motioning for you to take his hand. The sound of familiar whines catch your attention, and you look up to see three hounds, waiting anxiously a few feet away. “The hour is late and I’m already dreading dealing with a sleep-deprived version of you. Your usual self is enough of a bane in my existence.”

You shoot him a glare and he waits, watching you. He wonders if you’ll bite back. With a resigned sigh, you take his hand, allowing him to help you up. His gaze flickers to your arms, noticing the scratches that marred your skin and the bond in his chest rages with protectiveness.

“We can stop by the infirmary first.”

“I’ll be fine,” you huff out but that distant look on your face remains, betraying your words.

The hounds approach you with soft whines. They’re careful not to brush against the cuts on your arms, their noses nudging softly against your legs instead. Your hand remains in Eris’s and he takes a step forward, prompting you to let him guide you out of the forest.

A light breeze brushes against you, carrying with it the lingering chill of the mourning forest. You turn your head, your gaze falling on that vacant spot where the sacred tree once stood. Your features soften, a wave of sympathy washing over you. Your heart aches to fill the void, to restore what had been unjustly taken and bring life back to this part of the forest.

But you were running out of time.

The darkness within you was growing stronger with each passing day. If you didn’t return the sacred tree soon, the darkness would come for you again, more relentless, more determined…

“Eris?"

There’s a slight vulnerability to your voice that unsettles him. It has his body tensing. He can only muster a hum in response.

“What if–” Your throat seizes and you’re  grateful your head is turned away from Eris so he can’t see the fear that flashes in your eyes. “What if one day I don’t come back?”

Eris’s hand tightens around yours and a shaky breath escapes from you. His hand is strong and warm and for just this once, you allow the simple touch to ground you. When you finally turn to face him, you find his gaze was already on you, something strange and vulnerable swirling in those amber depths. 

That look in his eyes was enough to chase away the cold that had settled in your bones, kindling a warmth to your chest and tugging those golden threads that now reside there.

“Then, I’ll follow you into the dark.”

His words hung in the air, but a question arose. Would he still follow if it weren’t for the bond?

The thought hovered, restless, at the edge of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But you swallowed it down, unwilling to risk hearing an answer you already believed to be true.

You didn’t think you could bear it if you were right.

[eris x chaos witch masterlist]

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