#tyriaslibrary

[ashalsdream]

❝  i’m only really living in the moments when we’re together.  the rest is just existing until you look at me again.  ❞

For Canach and Tomomi?? 👀

@scribesofcalamity

HI sorry this took so long LMAO but have some soft fluff of them <3

(will also post the images in a separate post because I love the edit but yeah! Enjoy the boys)

@scribesofcalamity - Ao3 link in reblogs.

Canach hadn’t even heard the footsteps down into his office within the club until a voice he had not heard in what felt like years broke him from his paperwork. 

“Well, I suppose I should stop doubting Ashal when she tells me where you are” the elegant form of each word made Canach’s heart ache, the elementalist in front of him stood with such grace and pride that it was almost befitting of a proud king. Each movement was timed perfectly like he knew all eyes were on him even if it was only the two of them. Everything about him was planned and perfected. Apart from the way he looked at Canach. That had never been planned, that had never been perfected. Each time he seemed to catch eyes with his husband he acted as if he was caught off guard - like he had been blessed and told he was beauty incarnate. 

Tomomi tilted his head when Canach just stared at him and rolled his eyes, a quiet giggle leaving his lips as he walked forward towards the desk, “a ‘hello, my dear lovely husband’ or a ‘I have missed you oh so dearly in our time apart’ would have done just fine” he teased as the other laughed snapping out of his trance on the elementalist. 

“All true words, not that I would admit them in front of you” he smirked, pushing the paperwork aside knowing that he would get murdered for not finishing them but in that moment he didn’t even care anymore. “How did you find me?” he asked curiously, he went to stand up but was interrupted by the purple sylvari simply hopping onto his desk and swinging his legs over so he was sat facing him, leaning down to steal a kiss before he sighed, stretching up. 

Tomomi seemed to stretch to attempt to relieve the stress of the day, “Surprisingly, Ashal’s new boyfriend seems to want to get on my good side and managed to get me transport to Cantha. So, here I am. I’m here on ‘official guild business’” 

Canach hummed in response, smiling at his lover. “I am glad you’re here, look, my love, I am a billionaire now.” he snorted, he knew Tomomi would love him either way. They had been through the worst of times together, he at least hoped he could give him some better times now. But he was concerned on why Tomomi was with them, he had found a peaceful place to live in Vabbi, he had been happy. Why did he leave? He knew it was partly because Canach had left but Tomomi had sacrificed so much for him, he had promised he’d go back home after Cantha - another promise broken. “I’m sorry. I know you were happy there.” 

“Yes, I was. But I am happier when you are with me” The elementalist smiled sadly, he had been happy - for a time. Vabbi had been home. After Jormag he struggled with colder temperatures and while the desert night air had been a struggle, he had gotten used to it. “I was not truly living. I was waiting, waiting for you to come home, waiting for letters from Ashal, waiting to prove myself again - to prove that I am not the monster Jormag made me.” the phantom pain in not only his missing leg but also now the eye that the scion of Jormag had ripped from his skull seemed to ache again as he closed his eyes. He could still hear their voices, tormenting him. 

He gasped when Canach placed his hand on his cheek, “you are safe. I am truly only living in the moments when we are together. The rest is just existing, waiting, until I am able to see you again. See the way you look at me. You are my husband, Tomomi. You are not a monster” 

Leaning against the others hand, he pressed a kiss against his palm. “I am yours and that is truly enough for me. Promise me this will be it?” he looked at him again, he was tired of the fighting - tired of moving, tired of running. He wanted to settle down and he’d had that for a short while in Vabbi. Canach felt guilty for making him move again. But they would be stable here, the commander had others to help her. He can finally give Tomomi the peace he wanted. 

“I promise.”  

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

Ascended Reborn: Knight of the Thorn (chapter 2)

Chapter Two: The Power of a Broken Blade

(Prev | Next)

Oksuré meets with Ridhais in Caer Aval in Fort Trinity. Oksuré remembers numerous times she had reported back to Trahearne after a mission, with Ridhais standing professionally in the background, hand on blade, always ready to chime in with her youthful suggestions, always ready to fight for Trahearne’s safety. It had been her Wyld Hunt. And she’d failed.

"Commander Oksuré,” Ridhais greets.

“Valiant Ridhais,” Oksuré replies. “Are you well?”

“I didn’t succumb to Mordremoth, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ridhais answers with a tight smile. “But… well, I heard you fought Mordremoth with Marshal Trahearne.” Ridhais’ eyes drop to the ground. “And that you used Caladbolg to end his life.”

The words pierce Oksuré’s heart like a blade; she almost flinches away from Ridhais, stiffening slightly and squeezing her eyes shut against the memory. She swallows and takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she murmurs softly. But the tight feeling in her chest doesn’t go away. “It’s my fault,” she whispers, not meeting Ridhais’ eyes. “I didn’t get there in time.” She realizes she is about to cry.

It’s not because she cares about Ridhais and her Wyld Hunt. It’s because she had failed to save Trahearne. It was she, Oksuré, he was depending on, not Ridhais. She’d known how much danger Trahearne was in and she chose to go after Caithe and the egg anyway. She knew and she decided to turn aside to Rata Novus.

And now he was dead. All because of her Spirits-cursed pride that she’d killed a dragon once and could do it again.

“The cost to kill the dragon was higher than any of us expected,” Ridhais says softly.

Oksuré nods quietly. “So… what of your Wyld Hunt? Are you… “

Ridhais grimaces. “Well, actually… I was wrong. My Hunt hasn’t finished.”

Oksuré blinks. She can’t possibly think Trahearne is still alive… she doesn’t know - hadn’t seen… she blinks away sudden tears again and takes a breath. But she can’t quell the sudden, desperate hope that Ridhais might be on to something. After all, if her Hunt hadn’t ended… “You think he might - “

But Ridhais is already shaking her head. “No. Remember, I Dreamed of Caladbolg. I heard it was broken… I think I’m supposed to heal it. I trust you brought the sword out of Maguuma?”

“Yes, of course… but it doesn’t look very healable.”

Ridhais nods seriously. "The Pale Tree's thorn may be broken, but I believe its spirit is not that easily slain. May I see it?"

Oksuré draws the broken shard of Caladbolg out of her pack. It is not all wilty-looking, as one would expect from a dead, planty sword, but still lush and green. The glow Oksuré is accustomed to seeing around it when in Trahearne's care is missing, and the plant matter decorating the flat of the blade, while not wilted, is limp and no longer twined tightly around it.

The shattered thorn brings back the harsh memory of Trahearne's last moments, and suddenly her heart is pounding again and her breathing is shallow. Oksuré takes a deep breath and tries to focus.

…Mordremoth had stolen even Trahearne last words from him. The world is cold and hard already without Trahearne… this is just one more on top of everything else (Trahearne is no longer here. dead. gone) but Oksuré feels like weeping.

"I can tell if it can be healed, Commander," Ridhais tells her. "May I hold it?"

Oksuré nods numbly and hands it over. She watches Ridhais examine it, but her heart isn’t in it. She isn't exactly sure if she wants to heal Caladbolg - what would become of it then? Would the Pale Tree give it to somebody else, like Caithe? Oksuré doesn’t know if she would be able to stand seeing the blade in use by somebody else… it is Trahearne's weapon, and it just wouldn't be right.

At the same time, Oksuré knows she can't just keep such a powerful relic of the sylvari, and she couldn't possibly stand in the way of anybody's Wyld Hunt.

After a long pause, Ridhais hands the blade back to Oksuré. "Though it is wounded, life remains, thank the Pale Tree. Caladbolg is dormant now, like a seed in the winter, waiting the coming of spring."

Oksuré takes it and nods slowly. This blade had had the power to kill an Elder Dragon, even in this condition. Whole… no wonder it was capable of being the focus to cleansing Orr. Truly a powerful weapon.

"How can it be healed?"

"Two tasks are necessary," Ridhais instructs. "We must gather as many fragments of Caladbolg's blade as possible, along with sources of power to bolster its energy. Additionally, a new wielder must be bonded to the weapon."

"A new wielder?" Oksuré asks, curious. "Why? I don't think what’s-his name, Waine, 'bonded' it - he wasn't even a sylvari - and I can't imagine somebody like him bonding Caladbolg, anyway."

Ridhais shrugs. "Waine doesn't matter - I do know that nobody suspected his weapon as being the source of his victories in the fighting pit. A sorry state indeed for the focus that cleansed Orr - if it were properly used, Caladbolg would have been found much sooner, just thanks to the power it advertises."

Oksuré remembers something. "Trahearne also said it was the only thing that could save him. I didn't know, then, what he meant, but…" Ridhais' eyes widen. "Caladbolg defeated an Elder Dragon… like this?" she whispers.

Oksuré nods. "I'd never appreciated how powerful it was. It would have had to nullify every last shred of corruption in Trahearne, or I am half-convinced Mordremoth would have simply risen again."

Ridhais nods. "Perhaps you are right. Well, we should start the healing process. Caladbolg has been instrumental in the defeat of two Elder Dragons, I don't think we'll get away with trying another without it."

"Two?" Oksuré queries, frowning.

"Oh, yes," Ridhais says, nodding quickly. "Elder Dragons eat magic, and the Artesian Waters is the most magically powerful place in… well, most anywhere, I think, and certainly in Orr. Caladbolg's magic is the Pale Tree's magic, which we now know to be purified dragon energies from Mordremoth. I don't think Zhaitan would have taken kindly to its main food source being poisoned by another dragon’s magic - it probably was extremely sick by the time the airships confronted it."

"I never thought of that," Oksuré notes in awe. "Maybe it can cleanse the Brand or something." Then she frowns. “I don’t suppose Orr was just… corrupted anew by Mordremoth when Trahearne did that?”

Ridhais is already shaking her head. “No, Caladbolg draws its magic from the Pale Tree. Its magic is no more corrupted than the sylvari are. Yes, it’s Mordremoth’s domain of magic, but it doesn’t carry Mordremoth’s corruption.”

Oksuré nods. “That’s good.” She frowns slightly at the shard of Caladbolg in her hand, not sure why Ridhais had given it back, then glances back at the sylvari. “What’s the first step? Is there anything I can do to help?” She doesn’t have anything else to do. And…. she doesn’t want to relinquish the last part of Trahearne she still has.

Ridhais nods. “Yes. The first step is to find the other pieces of Caladbolg. I have one piece - it led me to you, or rather, the fragment you possess. Take it, and the two together will lead you to others.” Oksuré nods slowly. "Alright. What else do I have to do?"

"You'll need spiritwood scion, a vision crystal, and an orb of natural essence," Ridhais tells her. "I have a vision crystal, and scion of spiritwood is naturally attracted to Caladbolg. I have a list of places where I can obtain the natural essence we need. I believe you are more experienced and equipped to brave the jungle, so you can do that and I will seek out these places of power. Send me a message when you’re on your way back, and I’ll meet you here."

Oksuré nods. Ridhais had clearly made good of her time with Trahearne during the Orrian campaign. She’d spent the whole time diligently pursuing her Wyld Hunt and learning all about Caladbolg. She’s… a lot like Trahearne, in fact.

[commanders-company]

Bad Trip

As a soldier of Ash Legion, Bato was always on the alert for any sign of trouble.

The first sign was when Gheli answered the communicator instead of Feyn. This was not uncommon; usually it simply meant the Commander was busy doing something important. The second sign was that Gheli asked her to meet them right away, which made Bato worry Feyn’s current task had taken a turn for the worse.

None of this prepared her for the sight of her sylvari friend prancing among a forest of strange, gigantic mushrooms with a wide-eyed grin on her face and constantly babbling to herself.

“My guess is the spores,” Gheli commented as Bato stared in confusion. “The biology of this fungus is so foreign from this reality that even just breathing in the air around them produces some sort of mind-altering affects.”

The charr crossed her arms. “So it’s like she’s drunk, or something?”

“Have you ever noticed how SOFT Rytlock’s fur is?” Feyn mumbled loudly, before making a noise that Bato assumed was supposed to sound like growl but ended up more like she was drowning.

“Or something,” Gheli confirmed.

“Well, we can’t just leave her over there,” Bato said. “Why not just run over and drag her away from the mushrooms?”

“Oh, what a great idea! Then we’ll have three grown women blubbering like idiots. No, I’ve got a plan.” Gheli held up her tools so Bato could see her work. “I’m working on reconfiguring my aquabreather to filter out toxins in the air instead of converting water to oxygen. It should counteract the spores and keep me from getting…whatever Feyn’s going through.”

Feyn’s uncontrollable giggle fit echoed throughout the cavern. “Faren, wait! You – hee hee – you forgot your pants!”

Bato nodded slowly. “But you said these mushrooms aren’t from Tyria.”

“Uh-huh. Completely unknown organisms! Would be fascinating, if it weren’t for present circumstances.”

“So you don’t know anything about them.”

“Yes, and thanks for stating the obvious?”

“So you won’t know if it works until you test it. On yourself. In the field of spores.”

“…you really know how to take the wind out of a girl’s sails, don’t you?”

*~*

In the space between two asura gates, do you cease to exist?

Feyn giggled as she sprinted around the cave. What a silly question for the mushroom to ask. She had travelled through plenty of asura gates, and here she was safe and sound. Silly Mr. Mushroom!

Is the "you" who returned from the dead the same as the "you" who died?

“That’s the same thing but different words,” Feyn mumbled as she climbed the side of one of Mr. Mushroom’s friends. The tops of their heads looked terribly bouncy, and she was dying to see how high she could go.

Can Palawa Joko Awaken himself?

Feyn fell flat on her back but burst out laughing. Now THAT was just a ridiculous notion; Joko was dead, he couldn’t possibly Awaken himself! What a silly, silly mushroom.

Are they truly your friends, or do they follow you out of obligation?

Well, that question was decidedly less silly. Her giggling died down as she noticed the rest of Destiny’s Edge were not running around and jumping and laughing anymore.

Does everyone in the Pact really believe in you? How could you ever be sure?

She stood up as they closed in on her. Was it just her imagination, or were thew growing bigger? And taking out their weapons? “Stop, please,” she asked Mr. Mushroom, but he didn’t listen.

After what he has said and done, can you really trust Braham? Can you trust Caithe? Can you trust any of them?

How can you be sure Aurene won’t end up like her grandfather?

Will all this fighting ever really end? Or will you die first, never knowing if your work meant anything?

“Stop it.” Feyn took a step back, again and again, trying to get away from these devils that wore the faces of her friends. She felt her back meet the cave wall and took out her dagger. “Stop it!” She swung once, twice, again and again to keep them at bay. Her blade met armor and flesh countless times as she flailed but her attackers continued on relentlessly. “STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALO –”

A shadow grabbed her and for all she thrashed and flailed she couldn’t break free. She screamed at the top of her lungs for what seemed like hours until suddenly something shifted inside her head. She dared to open her eyes – the mushrooms were far away now, and the attacking shadows were gone. Looking up she saw Bato holding her with one arm and holding a comparatively tiny aquabreather to her snout with the other. Below, Gheli cautiously stepped forward, her face a combination of concerned and terrified.

“Feyn? Are – are the spores wearing off? How many fingers am I holding up? Name all of Ventari’s–”

“I’m alright,” Feyn said abruptly, wriggling out of Bato’s grip. She cautiously scanned the cave around them. “They’re gone. It was just – I’m fine.”

“You were…prancing around over there by the mushrooms,” Bato explained calmly. “Then you just started yelling and throwing your weapon around. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine –” The sylvari spat out before taking a quick breath. “Taimi and Blish need more data from these rifts. We need to keep moving.”

Bato and Gheli shared a look before falling in line behind her determined walk. Feyn kept her eyes straight ahead, taking in every detail to distract her from the voice still ringing in her head.

[tyrias-library]

An Update about the Future

Hello! First of all, thank you to all who follow and support this blog! It has meant a whole lot to me (mod Ink!) for quite some time.

Sadly, both myself and mod paper have decided to take some time away from this blog for personal reasons. This doesn’t mean it’s gone forever, but as of right now it will be on an indefinite (mostly) closure. There may still be some reblogs of fic now and then, but there will be no expected schedule or further events at this time.

It’s been an absolute pleasure reading all the wonderful fic the gw2 community here on tumblr has produced. I’m so happy to have been able to supply at least a bit of a platform to further the reach of your creations.

And because it bears repeating (again and again and again): you are all such talented, creative, lovely people. Your work is inspiring, unique, touching, and important. Please keep creating! The world very much needs it.

[the-three-idiots]

Mrs and Mrs Tieran

Three hours after Lisbets and Lianas wedding

Tieran residence, the Grove

10:12PM

The Tieran residence, a small place in the grove. Much like most buildings in the grove, it has been grown from a plant. The interior is decorated with various trinkets and treasures from Ashals travels. The living room is a rather cosy room, a large sofa of human design, resides in the centre of the room near several lamps.

Ever sits down on the Sofa, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. Ashal has the top few buttons of her uniform undone, Ever offers one of the mugs to Ashal. Ashal smiles and takes one of the mugs.

“Hot chocolate with powdered chocolate and nutmeg on top of some whipped cream I made earlier with a small chunk of that asuran chocolate Taimi gave us.” Ever explains

Ashal smiles.

“After all that norn food and blood wine, I am looking forward to this.” Ashal says, taking a sip from the mug.

Ever smiles as she drinks from hers.

“I’m surprised you managed to drink the blood wine, i took one sip and threw it away” Ever states

“Did you find out if it was actually blood in the end?” asks Ashal

Ever shakes her head.

“No, just some wine with a lot of spices in it.” Ever takes another sip “Apparently the real stuff would kill anyone who wasn't norn.” causally says Ever

Ashal turns her head in concern and raises an eyebrow.

“That probably explains why that norn bartender laughed at me when I asked him for some.” Ashal says

Ever and Ashal smile at each other, Ever takes Ashals hand.

“It was nice, what you did for them today.” Ever says 

Ashal nods and unbuttons the rest of her jacket. Ashal places her mug down on the floor and reaches for the pips on her collar, she takes them off. She feels the weight of the pips.

“I had to.” Ashal says

She passes the pips to Ever, she takes them and looks at them. The pips are scratched and heavily dented, the edges are slightly rusted.

“I asked around, none of the Norn priest’s wanted to.” Ashal explains.

Ashal sighs as she picks her mug back up.

“Their excuses were all the same, Lisbet wasn’t worthy.” Ashal takes another sip from her mug “Not even Braham or Eir couldn’t convince any of them.” Ashal explains

Ashal looks up and sighs. Ever puts the pips on the sofa and takes Ashal’s hand.

“They’re pretty heavy,aren’t they?” Asks Ever

Ashal nods and looks up at Ever with a frown.

“I got a lot of flak for marrying those two.” Ashal sighs

Ashal begins to look exhausted, Ever looks at the pips carefully. Ever puts her mug down ,takes the pips , stands and walks over to a cabinet. She opens a cabinet which is filled with various artefacts, treasures and pictures of the guild. 

Ever puts the pips in the cabinet and takes out a glass box. Ever sits down and presents the glass box to Ashal. Ashal puts her mug down.

“Remember this?” Ask Ever

Ashal looks at the glass box, inside it is a worn patch, heavily discoloured and dirtied with threads coming out of it. Faded letters at the top read ‘Tales of Thedas’, Ashal looks at with a nostalgic smile.

“The first of five…” Ashal replies

Ever smiles, seeing the joy on Ashals face.

“If I remember your words exactly, nothing good is ever easy.” Ever says

Ashal opens the lid of the glass box, she touches the worn patch. It’s unexpectedly smooth and feels flimsy. Ashal moves hand to the patch on her left arm, which feels stiff and coarse.

“So it’s been that long.” Ashal whispers.

Ashal closes the lid on the box. She stands up and walks over to the cabinet, putting the glass box back into it. Ashal turns to Ever and puts her hands in her trousers pockets.

“You created the guild to give everyone an equal chance, I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job of doing that.” Ever remarks

Ashal looks around, she inspects the room. 

“Everyone looks at me for the solutions ” Ashal puts her hands in her pockets “I’m just not quite sure what to do sometimes I’m just...I’m just tired.” Ashal says rubbing her eyes

Ever smiles and points towards the bottom of the cabinet.

“Second to last shelf on the left.” Ever says with a calm demeanour.

Ashal looks confused as she kneels down to the bottom of the cabinet, she smiles and pulls out a large fluffy blanket and a couple of cushions. Ashal turns around to Ever, who has a book in hand. Ashal relaxes her shoulders and her smile widens.

“Ah you're like, the best wife.” Says Ashal in a tired tone.

Ever smiles and tilts her head a little.

“Well I hope there isn’t any competition.” Ever jokes

Ever pats on the empty space next to her. Ashal puts the blanket and pillows on the sofa, takes her jacket off and throws it over the back of it. She lays down, her head resting on Ever's lap.

“What book is it?” Asks Ashal

Ever looks at the cover of the book.

“Journey to the cove by lord Faren” replied Ever

Ashal rolls her eyes as Ever open the book. Ever pulls the blanket over Ashal and the two settle down as she begins to read the book out loud.

Understanding is an essential part of any relationship. When two people become that comfortable with each other, both parties learn the other's habits, annoyances and guilty pleasures.

Ever is often overlooked by the greater context of history, though it's these smaller moments of kindness and understanding that helped Ashal through both thick and thin.

That is the greater meaning of understanding, knowing when someone just needs a hot drink and a story to tell. Maybe, that small action will help a person go on to do greater things. You never know how important just talking may be.

As regardless of what history says, everyone is important to someone.

(Based on the characters by @ashals-dream )

[intern-seraph]

just a nightmare

hi i wrote some post-hot trahearne lives nonsense! enjoy a morning with fina :)

CW: Body horror, implied mutilation

—

Breathe in.

Her sap rushes in her ears, so loud that she can hardly think.

Breathe out.

She curls in on herself. Presses her forehead against her knees.

Open your eyes.

Her chest hurts.

Open your eyes.

There’s a burning in her back, a searing down her spine. She opens her eyes. Around her, the cage of vines pulses and thrums, the air humid and thick like a blanket. She gasps, but it’s like trying to breathe in honey. The pain is worse, now, as if great chunks of her flesh are being cut away bit by bit. She howls, hot hot hot tears streaking down her cheeks and her nails sinking into her naked skin.

Something bursts forth from her back. Great teeth, sharp and cruel and somehow, somehow, ravenous envelop her.

And she hears the dragon laugh.

—

Fina wakes up drenched in sweat and trembling like a leaf. Still caught up in the throes of panic, she grasps blindly at her back, fumbling for the wings she’s sure she’s lost control of and that she’s sure have finally burst free to truly begin her transformation—

But there’s nothing there, and she collapses back to the mattress in relief. Her breath bubbles out in a pitchy laugh that peters out into a sigh. She stares up at the ceiling, tracing the leaves’ veins and listening to Trahearne’s soft, steady breathing. Oh! That thought jolts her back up. She looks across the room and sees him still buried beneath a pile of blankets. Thank the Blessed Mother, she hadn’t woken him with her nightmare.

(It still stirs something sour in her heart every time she invokes the Pale Tree’s name without thinking.)

She knows that, now that she’s awake and alert, she won’t be able to fall asleep again. So, she resigns herself to it, decides to go about her morning errands before Trahearne wakes up. A note on top of her rumpled bed sheets—”Out to market, will be home soon!”—a fresh change of clothes, her heavy winter cloak draped over her shoulders, and she’s outside.

Caledon Forest, while being far more temperate than other parts of the Maguuma Jungle, still hardly has what anyone would call a proper winter. Even so, the early morning breeze is sharp and cold and nips at Fina’s heels. She quickens her pace, intent on reaching Mabon Market and returning home before Trahearne has to read her note. This, the walk to the market, is probably her least favorite part of running errands. To be alone with her thoughts, alone with the steady hum of dragon magic heavy in her chest…

She greets the local artisans with a cheery smile. They return it with greetings of their own, the calls of, “Commander Fina!” marking the real start to her morning. As always, she’s swarmed by curious saplings and reverent locals who ask questions and offer her goods and beg for her to stay just a little longer! And she, as always, laughs and shakes her head and says that she needs to be home in time to make breakfast. By the time she manages to leave, her arms are laden with food. There’s some sort of berry pastry held between her teeth—a gift from Myrtle, who had insisted that Fina try her new recipe. Somewhere in her baskets is a scrap of parchment with that same recipe scribbled down. Hardly legible, she’d observed as it was written, and it would be a miracle if she managed to be able to read it if she ever wanted to try to bake it herself.

She knows that she’ll definitely try to bake it someday.

Trahearne is awake when she gets home. He’s just entered the kitchen, wheelchair squeaking on the way (Fina notes that she’ll have to get oil for the wheels next time she’s in town). He looks up at her and smiles. Even the side of his face still weakened from Mordremoth’s corruption manages to scrunch up in that way that makes Fina’s gut all warm and fluttery.

“Good morning, dear heart,” he says.

“Good morning.” She sets the groceries down and strides across the kitchen to give him a peck on the cheek. He turns and tilts his head so that he can capture her lips in a short, sweet kiss. “I woke up early.”

“I can tell.” His eyes soften, and she knows what he’s thinking. Like always, he doesn’t comment on it. They both have their nightmares now, and speaking of them has done neither of them any good.

She draws back. “I’ll make breakfast. Your favorite.”

A thank you for not pushing further. He smiles again, concern still brewing behind his eyes, and nods. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course.”

[mystery-salad]

A Plea of Mourning

High above the Grove, the omphalos chamber glows bright against the night sky. While most had gone to bed, the few wardens tasked with guarding from the nightmare as others slumber can hear a fight as fiery as the sun itself.

“My child-“

“No! No, by the dream you will stop and listen to me for once! I did not come here for platitudes and consolation for my grief! There is nothing you can say that will make this right!”

Trahearne stands tall before the shining avatar of the tree that made him, the being he called mother who’d sent him on his journey. He looked back and saw years spent on an unachievable Hunt that in the end couldn’t be done alone anyways. A fools errand at best. And he saw…

“We all trust you upon emerging from the dream, you tell us good luck, you send us off to our destinies. But you don’t even seem to understand what it is you’re condemning us to! I spent years in Orr mother! I spent a lifetime away from my siblings, away from home, and by the time I returned I was but a stranger to them! And it’s all a means to an unreachable end, a goal I’ve yet to truly complete as the lands slowly heal!”

“And yet you’ve done so well with it Trahearne,” the Pale Tree reaches a hand gently out, an offering more than anything of kindness and acceptance. One that is shunned as the firstborn steps back to remain out of reach, her light reflecting off the tears running down his face.

“I said listen! Listen to your child you sent off to a life of solitude, because when you finally deigned a newborn’s Hunt to be worthy of accompanying me, it was a man sent to-!” His voice breaks on a choked sob as a hand clutches his chest. A warden standing guard steps forward intending to help before the Pale Tree gestures silently for them to step back.

“...give him space. I will hear him on Cinnuit.”

The name brings Trahearne back up to full height as his stare bores into his mother. “You even remember his name. You sent him to die and you have...the gall to stand there speaking of him. You gave me a friend and told him it was his duty to follow what the dream told him, and he. Did. Do you even actually understand what you caused? We look up to you not unlike the humans look to their gods. And you told him to find me so he could die in my place.”

“I was merely repeating the dr-“

“Yes, you were repeating the dream’s blasted prophecies! Again! Like you do to every Valiant that passes through your chamber! How many don’t even survive to fulfill theirs and yet you saw fit to send one out with the goal of death! You can’t keep doing this Mother! The Dream can’t keep getting away with this!”

The avatar of the great tree they stand within nods solemnly, eyes fixed gently on her grieving first child. “...what would you have me do, my son?”

He’s taken aback, having come to grieve and yell but not possibly expecting any actual headway with her. Silently, the tears stream down his face more gently now as he thinks over his response carefully. “Do not create Valiants. Even if the Dream sees fit to send them to you, let them live their lives with a distant possibility they can choose to ignore. Let them live like we never got to. Perhaps in time they will learn to make their own decisions not based upon the only being they can’t say no to.”

She nods again, extending her hand for a second time, though this time it does not come with words of comfort but a promise instead. “I will endeavor to change this. I do not control what the Dream shows my children, but I can try to...soften the blow. This I promise, and I wish it could be more.”

“...it’s...enough I suppose. More than I expected.” Trahearne fixes her with a serious state as he walks within reach to take her hand. “Don’t send another child to die afraid and desperate…don’t let them believe that’s all they are.”

[kerra-and-company]

From the I love you prompt list, “Please don’t.”

It's been a bit, but I got a fic done for this prompt! Sorry, I have been having some fun writing block issues, but hopefully you enjoy this @mystery-salad and thanks so much for sending it in! :)

Warnings: angsty conversations, but nothing else, I don't think

Rel snuck out of his room in the Priory keep in the early hours of the morning.

He thought he’d managed to avoid notice at first. The only sound he could hear was his own soft footfalls on the cobblestone. The lights were dim, casting faint shadows on the walls. He’d just reached the arch when he heard it: his name, just loud enough to be audible.

“Rel.”

He spun around to see his sibling staring at him. Nisha’s face was empty, blanker than Rel had ever seen it. “You’re leaving,” xe said.

“Yes, I am.” He wanted to take a step towards xem, but his feet were rooted to the ground. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” Xyr voice broke on the word, pain flashing in xyr eyes for a moment. Xyr throat bobbed, and it vanished again, xyr next words deadpan but forced. “You are my brother. Stay.”

“I can’t stay.” Understand, Nish, please, please understand. “I’m not—I don’t belong here.”

The glass expression on Nisha’s face shattered, replaced by an utterly lost look. “You’re my brother. You belong with me.”

“I’m not happy here, Nish. You are.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy,” Nisha snapped, straightening so xe stood at xyr full height. “It matters that I’m there for you. If you won’t stay, I’ll come with you.”

“It matters to me if you’re happy, you absolute—” Rel broke off in frustration. “I don’t want to argue! I need to go where I’m happy. You need to stay where you are.”

“I need to keep you safe—”

“I can keep myself safe!” Rel almost yelled, lowering his voice to a hiss at the last moment. His right hand warmed, and he clenched it into a fist to snuff out the tiny flame. “I am leaving on my own. And you. Are. Staying.”

Rel took a step back, out into the cold and the weak, grey light of dawn. His boot splashed as he stepped in a puddle of melted snow, but he didn’t notice. Nisha took a step towards him as if xe was magnetized to xyr twin.

“Don’t—no, let me—don’t leave me,” xe whispered, and Rel saw, to his utter shock, that xe had started to cry. Something inside him twisted.

“Nish, I have to leave.” Rel laughed, but it was choked off by his own tears, and it had no humor in it to begin with. “I have to, don’t you get it? I can’t stay here; this isn’t where I belong. But you love it here. You go to the library and read for hours, and you come back brighter than I’ve ever seen you.”

“I don’t belong here either.” Nisha’s voice was small.

“But you are happy here. Being happy is important.” Rel searched Nisha’s face. “You know that, right?”

All he got in return was a stare from very wet eyes. He saw no agreement, and his heart hurt.

“I love you,” Rel said, trying to put all the emotion he could into the words.

Nisha blinked at him. Xyr hand twitched as if simultaneously wanting and refusing to reach out. “Please.” Barely audible, this time. “Please don’t.”

“I love you, Nisha. And I’ll send you letters. And I will come back. You won’t—”

“Do not promise me that I won’t lose you,” Nisha snarled, but there was no heat to it. “You cannot promise that.” Xyr voice grew louder. “No one can promise that, and you know it!”

“You will not lose me,” Rel said anyway, putting as much emphasis into the words as he could. “You will not.”

“Rel, please,” xe tried one last time. “Please, please, please don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, Nish. I have to.” Rel hiked his pack higher on his shoulder. “I have to. I love you.”

He turned, finally breaking away from xyr gaze, and walked away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or drag his feet, but he did neither, even steps taking him down the stairs to the asura gate.

I’ll write, he thought. This isn’t forever, it’s just for now. I need this. So do you. I wish you knew that. I wish I wasn’t terrified to be wrong.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Please don’t forget it.

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

The Demicentaur

For @tyrias-library‘s Halloween event, unter the Cryptids prompt.

“Why exactly are we here boss? I know you like secrecy, but usually I know at least the basic reason for our travels” Lugard nervously scratched his wrist, the scraping of metal on metal only adding a shiver to the phantom pain.

Gekk, wearing peacemaker armor as usually, looked up at him. “Makin’ you uneasy, eh? Not knowin’ what the deal is?” Lugard knew Gekk well enough to suspect a grin under the helmet.

“Enough to make my hands hurt.” Lugard looked awkwardly at the metal prosthetics. “I did do some digging. The next speaker, a certain Frigg, he’s named as a Cryptozoologist, whatever that means, you’re paying him a respectable amount of money to fund his research.”

“See, you have all you need to know. Sometimes you are as dumbwitted as your nickname suggests Skrittlike. And now shush, his talk begins!” The Asura shifted his view to the stage.

The last few stragglers returned from their break to reclaim their seats as Lugard brooded in silence. Why had Gekk left Lion's Arch, during the Mad King’s Reign of all times!, to visit a convention of crackheads talking about creatures from children's books?

The host of the event, an asura whose most prominent feature was a concerning lack of any defining features, waddled up once again to announce the next talk. Seven Truths about the Demicentaur, by Frigg.

The Asura that now took the stage fit the descriptor Cryptozoologist quite well. Clad in ragged, earthy brown leather, decorated with what looked like roots from afar, or maybe some animal tails, he could’ve appeared as the cryptid in any of the other talks. Additionally he had brought at least the beginning of zoo with him, as there was a devourer following at his heel.

“The Demicentaur-,” Frigg started, then interrupted himself almost immediately, “Good evening everyone of course. The Demicentaur, or Horse, as it is colloquially known, is one of my favourite cryptids. For one it is a very old one for one of non-Asuran origin, I will get back to that in a bit, and it is intricately connected to my favourite extratyrestrial lifeform. Humans.”

A few chuckles echoed through the hall. Lugard was grateful for his mask as he felt Gekks gaze judging his reaction. To be fair it had taken him a few moments to remember that the Six had brought humans with them to Tyria. It’s not something that comes up in everyday life.

“Now there is a widely used joke about us Cryptologists that says there is only one thing we can agree on, and that is that we can’t agree on anything.” Many heads nodded. “That is why I have spent the last six months with chasing the few solid truths I could find. Now I’ve had the great luck to have a sponsor that allowed me to divert more of my time towards this topic, but as many of you know me, I could and would have done this research alongside my usual work, and there is nothing stopping anyone here from going out and double checking my findings.”

Again a large part of the audience nodded in approval. Lugard leaned over to Gekk, “So you are paying for this guys hobby so he can tell you something about horses?”

“Shh!” Gekk rudely answered, “Just listen”

“Now for the facts: To begin with, first mentions of Demicentaurs in the Grand Archives are from around 1100 AE, where they are mentioned as mighty warbeasts of past ages. The quality of the translations has been subject of many debates. Of note however is that horses appear in human literature from that time, however not in that of the charr.”

Lugard again leaned over to Gekk. “The Grand Archive? Is he talking about the Durmand Priory?”

“‘Course not. Too many bookahs had their hands on those books,” Gekk chuckled, “ But chances are they’d have the books he’s referencing. Just ain’t proper etiquette to cite from outside sources.”

“So it’s a formality thing? Non Asuran sources aren’t scientifically sound so you have to cite only Asura?” Lugard inquired.

“Aye.” Gekk answered nonchalantly.

“Next Truth,” Frigg had begun to walk up and down the stage, “The contemporary depiction of horses by humans, often as so called jousting knights, a carnival attraction, is similar to Cavalry employed by desert dwelling civilisations of today’s tyria. Both humans in Elona as well as hylek tribes in and around the maguuma wastes have mounted troops armed with long spears.”

“Factoid number four: And I know some of you,” Frigg pointed at a person in the front row,  “Some of you will be quite disappointed in me for including oral sources. And to you I say: GET LOST!” 

Frigg took a short pause, then continued like he never got loud, “Centaurs tell stories of a monster, the name gets mangled in translation, but the closest I could come up with is dread mount. It is a story about a centaur who makes a pact with a mysterious foreigner, or sometimes a demon, described with very human characteristics. The specifics vary widely, however in the end the centaur is a slave of the foreigner, deprived of their humanity and turned into nothing more than an animal.”

“The centaurs themself claim that the story is ancient, mostly citing names of characters that sound different for those they use. In one particular telling I heard the elder later explained that the mentioned centaur tribe had fled Elona.”

Two new Asura appeared on the stage, pulling several metal frames holding painted animal skins. Frigg turned towards it, “Next truth: We have graphic depictions of the dread mount. These look similar in stature to the jousting knights, and don’t appear to possess any signs that they would be a predatory animal. No claws like the elonian raptor mounts or chitin platin like hylek warbeetles. From my, albeit limited, understanding they are almost useless in combat, apart from their ability to carry a rider.”

“That was the amount of knowledge we had until very recently. The ability to travel to and from Elona, as well as the defeat of Palawa Joko, however lead to a great many discoveries. Including further information on horses, indicating that they were brought to elona with settlers from Cantha.”

“This is revolutionary!” Frigg gesticulated widely, “The fossil record clearly shows that centaurs originate from the tyrian continent. If horses did indeed come from Cantha to Elona it eliminates the possibility of them being descendants from one another. Convergent evolution seems to be the only remaining explanation for their similarities.”

“Finally, as we now know that horses came to Elona from Cantha, we have a rough time frame when they disappeared, with the human settlement of Elona around 200 years before their gods’ exodus, and the conquest of Ascalon around 100 years later. It is of course unsure whether horses disappeared entirely in this time, or were simply not brought to Ascalon for whatever reason.”

“My personal theory, and with this we depart from the hard truths,” “is that horses came through the mists, brought along by humans from wherever they and their gods originate from.”

“This concludes my talk,” Frigg finished, though almost unhearable through the noise that filled the hall now. In an effort to still be heard, he shouted; “I will not be taking questions right now, I thank you for lending me your ears.”

Lugard looked again to Gekk, who had now removed his helmet, a risk he rarely took. The Asura was smiling most contently while his ears were raised up like sails, twitching every time someone new shouted into the now loudly discussing mass of listeners.

Lugard too had to raise his voice quite a bit when he asked Gekk: “You like seeing them argue over trivial things, right? Your sponsorship is the breadcrumb thrown into the henhouse.”

“Finally you figured it out! Though I did find this talk at least somewhat interesting.” Gekk patted Lugard’s shoulder, then put his helmet back on. “Go and get our package from councillor Dann while I have some fun, will you?”

Lugard nodded silently and left the lecture hall, dodging two brawling Asura. In the background he heard a familiar, though somewhat muffled, voice. “And what about the Hippianic Bone Shift?!”

[lions-arch-chronicle]

Issue 9

WARNING: Major spoilers for the end of LWS5 in the headline, the rest of the paper is spoiler free 

Image ID under cut

Title: The United Legions put Dominion on ice

Subtitle: WARNING: Major Spoilers for the end of Living World Season 5

Story: As a part of our continuing coverage of the Charr Civil war and the fight against the Elder Dragons, we have finally obtained another update from the front. Former Blood Imperator Bangar Ruinbringer has been reported to leading his Dominion followers to unthinkable ends in pursuit of victory. Reports of charr being transformed into ice brood known as the Ice Legion have been flooding in as the Ice Legion has begun to work with the Sons of Svanir in communing and serving the elder dragon Jormmag. United Legions report that all attempts at negotiation have failed and Jormagg has awakened and has chosen their champion. However, there has been an unseen turn in events. Despite the former Blood Legion Imperator being vocal about his goal of becoming the Elder Dragon’s champion to bolster the charr, reports have come in that the dragon has taken none other than Blood Tribune Rytlock Brimstone’s son and Dominion Tribune Ryland Steelcatcher. Reports say that neither the dragon nor the tribune has been seen since the United Legions and the Commander lead their strike on the Frost Citadel. Ruinbringer is reportedly being held by the Dragon’s Watch guild in the Eye of the North the status of the former Imperator is speculation at best and we cannot report more detailed information at this time.

Title: Community Event: Tyriaslibrary first anniversary

Story: Our lovely friends over at Tyriaslibrary are coming up on their first anniversary. For those unacquainted with the blog they are “A place to promote the many talented writers in the Guild Wars 2 fandom.” Where they reblog and promote the fan writers within the community in one place for people to browse and find content. For their first anniversary, they are hosting a community event from Aug 30 through Sept 6 where writers are encouraged to participate in writing for a specific prompt every few days.The prompts listed from the blog are as follows: 

August 30-31: Visiting the library. Write about your characters visiting the library and enjoying some books!

September 1-2: Tyrian book excerpts. Write what you think you’d find inside a book from Tyria! Someone’s got to compete with Snargle Goldclaw, right? 

September 3-4: Anniversaries. With the game’s anniversary happening too, celebrate by writing about any type of anniversary. 

September 5-6: Relaxation. You don’t need to curl up with a good book to relax, but it does help! Write about what your characters do when they get that well deserved break.

They are also hosting a meetup for the community on Saturday, September 5th at 3 pm pst on NA servers. The meeting will be on the second floor of the Minister Wii’s Mansion poi in Divinity’s Reach and look for or whisper Librarian Ink! And finally for content creators that aren’t as involved in writing they are also encouraging people to participate in the #tyrian book hunt where players take screenshots in areas with books to be shared on the blog.We here at the LAC would like to say congrats to the Library for a year of awesome content for their support of us as well!

Title: No Reservations: The GroveBeautiful as a garden but boring 

Story: The Grove is pretty on the outside, sure, but what is it like to visit? I will tell you! It’s very humid. There are lots of weeds everywhere to trip on so be sure to watch your step! I hope you like bugs because this place is full of them, you can’t go anywhere without a creepy crawly walking across your feet. All the residents are related too! Must be really hard to date here because everyone is your brother or sister. I will say it is a lively place and it stays green year round. On the very bottom level of The Grove there is a beautiful pond with lily pads that would be a great place to stay if you were a frog! I mean seriously, would it kill them to put in a mall and a McDonalds or something?Editor’s Note: We are unsure what Kittyblog means by “A McDonalds” when asked she wouldn’t clarify so your guess is as good as mine.

Title: The Boasting Hall, Hot Spring and Swing

Story: With everyone running around at the festivals lately, I’ve been running dry of sparring partners at Zelechor Hot Springs! Those of you who have run into me before know I follow a two-part spring strategy. I sit in the steaming waters and let them soak into my pores. Then, I get out in the cold, and fight something. It keeps me young. Come here and let me fight you. You’ll see my wisdom.  The festivals are nice and all but all of that food? All of that running around and the food and drink will weigh you down after all that time. Water washes the surface. Battle alone and cleanse your insides. Come visit me at the hot springs then you can truly be cleansed. Title:  The Shadow Behind the Throne: is Queen Jennah a Cat?

Story: Like many of you, I paid a visit to the Crown Pavilion recently, partially for the event, but mostly for the hors d’oeuvres. While I was there, I decided to take a gander at Queen Jennah- I mean, what self respecting gossip writer wouldn’t at the very least check to see if she really walks around barefoot! She does. But that got me thinking. While I was enjoying my light dinner, as well as the truly spectacular show, I realized something. Isn’t it quite the risk for the Queen of Kryta to be just… sitting in public like this? Besides, I’m sure she has plenty to do, even in a time of festivity, but as far as I could tell she’s been there since the party started! So, how could this be? Well, my first thought was mesmer clone, of course. But could you really trust a simple illusion to be so close up with the people? Of course not! It has to be a disguise, and it has to be someone she trusts with her life… That’s when it hit me. The Queen Jennah we see sitting in the Crown Pavilion is… the Queen’s beloved cat, Shadow! Call it far fetched all you want… But I’ve never been able to put shoes on a cat.

[ashalsdream]

❝ you’ve stolen my heart, the least you could do is tell me what you intend to do with it. ❞ for Ashal/Rama

Kinoosss <33 thank u for the ask my love!!! It's good to hear from u i missed you a lot :D have some soft lovers not knowing how to express their true feelings

Ashal sat on the soft bed, a simple silk fabric across her shoulders as if it was meant to be a blanket. She was looking out over the city, watching all the colours and the people go by - it was so much more than she was used to, seeing all the technology was something she had never experienced. Not even when she had visited Rata Sum, it fascinated her, intrigued her. 

His hand slipped up under the blanket, wrapping around her arm as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, “It’s late, come to bed” he spoke quietly as if he didn’t want to break the peaceful silence that had overtaken the room. Ashal turned to look at him without realising how close he had gotten, she smiled as he turned to meet her kiss - it had always made her heart flutter at how Rama always chased after her lips when she pulled away like he was starved and wanting more. 

“Just a moment, the lights will start to become brighter soon” she had memorized exactly when it was just dark enough for the lights to register when it was time to guide the lost souls in the pitch black just so she could watch them. He laughed softly as he pulled away, squeezing her arm and walking around behind her, she didn’t pay much attention as he moved - completely focused on the view in front of her. He didn’t have the best view, those views were expensive and yet the rather awful view seemed to be enough for her. He sometimes wished he could give her more of what she wanted, despite how content she seemed - he always assumed she deserved more, she was the commander! She deserved a mansion or a castle! And yet Ashal seemed completely content in his shitty little apartment in the not-so-nice areas of the city. 

“I will never understand why you love the lights so much, you glow brighter than all of them combined” Rama remarked, causing Ashal to laugh as she stood up and turned to join him. Before he had time to think about anything, she’d dragged them both onto the bed and was already getting comfortable at his side, “I like them because I glow brighter than them, I don’t see myself glow the same way you do. I like the lights. I…” Ashal paused, hesitating which was unlike her. She sighed and just rested her head against his chest, “And I have to go back to Tyria again. So I want to remember them. And you” Rama frowned at her voice crack towards the end. He knew she was tired, she had done everything and yet she never got to rest - they ignored the fact she had said she wanted to stay in Cantha and still dragged her around as if she hadn’t saved their world multiple times. This wasn’t living and he felt awful for her but it was also affecting him, it felt like  he was constantly waiting for her to come back and that every moment together was fleeting. 

Rama gently stroked his fingertips up her back as he leaned over to cup her cheek, “Then stay, you can see them every night” he knew it wasn’t that easy but he was tired of the hiding, tired of the waiting and he suspected that she was as well. Before she could even argue with the usual excuses of the fact that dragon’s watch needed her, he spoke again, “You have done enough for those people. They will not shun you for taking time to live your own life. You’ve stolen my heart, the least you could do is tell me what you intend to do with it.” 

She stared at him, her mind working around those words as if she wasn’t sure how to react. He had never said that he loved her and she had never said them either but it had been implied. Heavily implied when they were alone but just out of reach. “I…” she smiled and wrapped her hand up around his own, closing the gap between them in a chaste kiss. 

“I love you” she whispered just for him, just for them. “I’ll stay. If you’ll have me” 

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

"Commander of Death" Part I: A Meeting of Souls

POV: CEERA

TL;DR - The end of Ceera's story - or perhaps the beginning of a new chapter. (We'll see if I feel like continuing it.)

A Meeting of Souls

Ceera is not in Pact Command on Dragonfall, like she is technically supposed to be. She is in the Mist Warden camp. She’d already led several expeditions to recover mist essence and even managed to revive a few fallen soldiers. No point in adding to the ghosts populating the camp.

Once, upon return, she’d come face-to-face with the Pact Commander, who had seen her frigid stare and turned away without a word.

Now she marches in to the camp, orders a wounded Vigil recruit into a makeshift bed in a tent, and is overseeing the distribution of mist essence, when she hears her name.

“Ceera? Are you Ceera?”

The voice comes from high above her. Ceera turns and looks upward to a norn. “Yes, I am.”

“Someone’s looking for you. Ah - a ghost.”

A terrible, motionless agony seizes Ceera. She can’t speak. She hardly dares to connect the dots. Finally she manages to rasp out, “where?”

She follows the norn through the camp as if only her steps and the path to her destination are real. Everything else is frozen, irrelevant - she’s walking through another world.

And then she sees him.

Tonn.

Her husband.

Her love and her life.

She flies into his arms, but he is incorporeal; but she holds his hands and tears fall down her face and he is speaking to her gently, softly, repeating words she hadn’t heard for eight years.

“Tonn,” she murmurs, just to hear his name on her lips again. “Tonn.”

“My Ceera,” he replies, and she hadn’t heard him say her name in so long, even the slight distortion of his voice is irrelevant - he is here. He is speaking to her. “I found you.”

Ceera closes her eyes and just revels in the sound of his voice. “Yes,” she murmurs.

“I won’t ever leave you again,” he promises.

“Can you?” she asks wonderingly, opening her eyes to look into his face. “Don’t you have to go back - after?”

“Not if I don’t want to,” he smiles at her. “Now, tell me what you’ve been up to. News of big things comes in to the Mists now and then, but I’ve only ever heard bits and pieces about you.”

So she tells him. The mist essence distribution can handle itself for a few hours. Or days...

~oOoOo~

Next (Pt 2)

[commanders-company]

The Witching Hour

Everyone in Kryta knew the old tales of the Witch of the Wilds. She was the classic bedtime story villain, a conniving boogeyman to scare children to behave themselves during the day and stay in their beds at night. The definition of a classic character, if there had ever been any truth to the tales, it certainly had been lost over generations of telling and retelling the tales of her schemes and the children who thwarted her.

It came as no surprise that, when smoke started rising from the Godslost Swamp and travelling merchants brought word of a ramshackle hut deep in the fog, that the children came to believe the witch had somehow escaped the confines of their storybooks and come to life. The adults didn’t mind these rumors, as they supplemented their own efforts to keep their kids in line and encourage them not to venture into the swamp alone. But for all they assured themselves that the hut probably belonged to some eccentric Priory Magister performing some sort of study, none of them could deny the aura of unease that penetrated the swamp. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, and hope the mysterious owner would pass on soon enough. But for some, the siren call of curiosity is undeniable, and only matched by desperation. *~* Despite the endless shroud of night, the inside of the hut was bathed in warm light, the smell of hot food and the comfort of heavy blankets. Somewhere deep in Samuel’s mind he knew he should be terrified – he had made it farther into the swamp than even the older kids had ever dared, and yet the witch had not harmed him. In fact, he had begun to wonder if she was even a witch at all – she was a sylvari, clearly, dressed in all manner of leaves and branches that matched the dark, muted greens and browns of her skin and hair. Her red eyes had been piercing in the dark, but now they complimented her small smile as she handed him a bowl of broth and a wool blanket far meant for someone far larger than either of them. “What brings you to my home at this hour?” she asked, and all of a sudden, the guilt of trespassing in someone’s home fell upon him. He almost thought to apologize and leave before causing her further bother, but that would mean braving the dark again without what he came for. “My home, Triskell Quay - ” he began, before taking a deep breath, and letting all the words fall out at once. “We keep getting attacked by bandits, and usually it’s fine because the Seraph are there, but they’re all busy now with the vines and everything, and the attacks keep happening and people keep getting hurt and – and Mom and Dad are – ” He hated that he was powerless to stop his tears; at least the other boys weren’t here to see it. “Please, you have to help them. I don’t care if you’re a witch or evil or anything, I’ll do anything as long as you stop them!” The witch was silent for a moment before standing up to gather his now-empty bowl and offer a mug of warm milk in return. She stood in front of the fire for a long while, as though lost in thought. “I cannot ask anything of you,” she said, “for it would be far too cruel to take from a child. But I also cannot do this for free.” She walked to an old wardrobe stained with rot and moss and began selecting various items from within. “In exchange for their safety, your parents will owe me a service, of a sort and time of my choosing. No matter if they refuse or forget, I will come to collect when the time is right.” The witch stepped away from the wardrobe, now adorned with new, strange clothing composed of more moss and sticks and leaves, all the color of murk and decay without any of the weakness of rot. Her belt, previously bare, was now laden with a dagger, hand axe, and various pouches. Finally, she took a worn straw hat and gently placed it on her head. She walked back over to her guest and, kneeling down, gave him that same small smile from before. “All I need from you,” she whispered, gingerly holding his chin, “is to sleep.” Caught under her spell – or perhaps the influence of the lateness of the hour, a warm blanket and a mug of warm milk – Samuel granted her request. *~* When he awoke the next day, Samuel was back in Triskell Quay. The sun was shining, the docks were filled with the smell of the ocean and the sound of ships preparing to set sail, and his parents were watching over him as though they hadn’t been captured by bandits the previous day. They didn’t talk about what happened, saying he was too young to hear about such things. All of the adults in

town kept quiet about the whole thing, but that didn’t stop rumors from circling the mill. The details were always different: some spoke of monstrous hands springing forth from the ground, dragging its prey down into the cold and dark earth; others claimed terrifying creatures of flesh and bone charged down the hills and left none of the bandits alive. But every story agreed on the lone, strange sylvari standing amongst the chaos, with blood red eyes peering against the darkness and the ghost of a cold smile on her face. When the bandits were gone, they rumors claimed she spoke only to Samuel’s parents in hushed whispers, who in their terror could only nod in agreement as the sylvari faded into night. The townspeople eyed the family suspiciously for weeks, waiting for some curse or another to spring forth from their quiet home, but life continued on as normal. The people knew peace; without bandits prowling the highway, business was flourishing, and for a long while even Samuel forgot about the fee for the witch’s service. One night long after, he awoke at the sound of the front door opening below. Quiet as he could, he stepped down the stairs, peaking around the corner to see his parents in the torchlight outside. The witch stood just beyond, deep in darkness, and her deep red eyes caught with his for just a moment, as a small smile spread on her face. The boy sprinted back up the stairs and into his room, diving under the covers. He sat awake, even as the sounds from below assured him that his parents came back inside and returned to bed unharmed. Try as he might, he could not banish the witch’s shadowy face from his mind.

[tyrias-library]

Wintersday Fic Event

It’s that time of the year again! Spread the holiday cheer by participating in the Wintersday Fic event! We’ve got four prompts to inspire you, but feel free to take them in any direction you’d like!

When the time comes to post just add the tag #tyriaslibrary or #tyriaslibrary event to make sure your fic gets featured here! And don’t worry if you’re not perfectly on time – anything posted for this event will be reblogged here no matter the date.

Prompt Schedule: 

December 20/21 - Holiday Decorating: What type of decorations do Tyrian’s put up? Write about your characters decorating for the holiday!

December 22/23 - Winter Activities: What do your characters get up to in the winter season? Write about them enjoying whatever that means to them!

December 24/25 - Gift a Fic: Write a fic for a friend, or someone on tumblr you admire! This doesn’t have to be Wintersday themed, just something to make someone else smile! 

December 26/27 - Quality Time: This is what the holiday is all about! Write about your characters spending time with the people they care about.

[the-three-idiots]

Tomomi and Canach

Five days after the icebrood crisis

The Hayashi residence, Gilded Hollow

6:32PM

The Hayashi residence in Gilded Hollow, a blend of classic tyrian furniture mixed with ancient architecture. Most of the decorations in the house were chosen by Tomomi, most of the fire damage was caused by Canach.

The bedroom was equally as extravagant, An oak double bed with burgundy sheets and pillows. Royal blue rugs litter the floor with a large empty wardrobe, with only coat hangers inside.

Tomomi is sitting on the bed, his right arm covered in bandages. Tomomi looks at his bag, filled with unpacked clothes. Tomomi stands up and looks at a picture of him and Canach, which is partially covering a charred wall.

Tomomi strokes the frame of the picture, Tomomi hears the front door open and close. Tomomi sits back down on the bed. 

“Here we go.” Tomomi says anxiously

Canach walks in through the door, he sees Tomomi. 

“Your back then?” asks Canach as he crosses his arms.

Tomomi nods, Canach looks over at the wardrobe and back at Tomomi.

“I see you haven’t unpacked.” Canach states

Canach walks over to the other side of the bed and puts his hand on the pillow.

“I only just got back, Doctor Meoli cleared me to-” Tomomi is interrupted by a pillow hitting his head.

“YOU LEFT WITHOUT EVEN LEAVING A NOTE!” Shouts Canach.

Tomomi nods as he stands and looks at Canach.

“Canach I can explain.” Tomomi says walking over to Canach

Canach throws another pillow at Tomomi, it hits Tomomi in the head. Tomomi doesn't react to it, he stops walking and looks at Canach with a saddened expression.

“I had to go Canach, Ashal needed me.” explains Tomomi

Canach rubs his temples and stares at Tomomi.

“For once why couldn’t you say no?” asks Canach 

Tomomi looks surprised.

Canach raises his finger to Tomomi, Tomomi’s expression drops.

“Do you know how many times we've gone on some near death crusade?” asks Canach

“To be fair you were the cause of one of them.” Tomomi sassily replies with a smile.

“This is not the time!” exclaims Canach

“There wasn’t too much much danger.” says Tomomi

“THERE WERE TWO ELDER DRAGONS!” Shouts Canach

Tomomi nods and shakes his left hand.

“Wasn’t much danger to me.” replies Tomomi.

Canach rolls his eyes, grabs another pillow and walks towards the door brushing past Tomomi. Tomomi sighs as he walks after Canach. They both walk into the lounge, Canach throws the pillow on the sofa and turns to Tomomi.

“Canach we both have responsibilities.” argues Tomomi

“Ok fair enough but it would be nice not to be blown up once in a while!” Remarks Canach

“Canach we can’t just ignore what happens outside.” Replies Tomomi

“And I accept that but you left and nearly died. I was here helping cleanup and you just got up and left to fight the ice born or whatever.” Canach snaps.

Tomomi grits his teeth.

“They're called iceborn.” Corrects Tomomi

Canach gives Tomomi a death stare, Tomomi nods in acceptance. Canach walks over to a cabinet filled with various bottles of liquids. Canach grabs a bottle, pops the cork and chugs half the bottle.

“People call me the reckless one and I can accept that, you usually help keep in check but what in the hell am I supposed to do when you go off the rails for some ad hawk adventure to some gods forbidden ice covered land?” Canach puts the bottle down. “All I knew for a while was an empty bed and a missing husband.” Canach explains

Tomomi walks up to Canach and puts his hand on Canachs.

“I had been alone for so long, cast aside by scarlet briar, imprisoned, judged…” Canach looks at Tomomi, his eyes welling up “…when we got married you promised I wouldn’t be alone again and you went back on that to go gallivanting across some frozen tundra!” Exclaimed Canach

“I would never…” Tomomi says, tightening his grip on Canachs hand.

Canach turns to Tomomi.

“I would never leave you like that.” Tomomi whimpers

Canach shakes his head.

“What about next time? How will I know you will come back?” asks Canach

Tomomi smiles and pulls Canach in and kisses him. He kisses Canach like he wanted to be kissed, like no one had ever kissed him, soft and passionate, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath, one sensation, one timeless and passionate moment.

“Canach Hayashi, If for a moment you think that I would leave you forever. Then I am the one to blame for making you think that  I could ever leave you. When I married you, I said I would stay with you no matter what happens.” Tomomi lifts his hand up, showing his ring. “This ring on my finger is a promise to both of us and I swear that I can never break for as long as I breathe.” Tomomi states

Canach strokes the side of Tomomi’s face and the two smile.

“Really?”  asks Canach?

“Really.” affirms Tomomi

The two look at each other and they kiss each other, both of them not wanting to move away from each other.

Tomomi and Canach embrace each other, neither one letting go.

“You can still be the reckless one if you want?” offers Tomomi

Canach chuckles.

“Only when you're around.” replies Canach

Tomomi and Canach display the challenges of all relationships, the need for adventure versus the needs of the couple. Tomomi was in the wrong but understood that had wronged Canach in such a way, not in any malicious way of course.

‘The needs of the many, outway the needs of the few’

This mindset took over when the icebrood crisis began, leaving Canach alone. Canach was hit heavily by this, he had been a man who was alone most of his life. This fear of being alone only confirmed once he came back from being stranded in the crystal desert.

It is, however, Tomomi and Canach who show how these issues can be overcome. The foundation of any relationship is not knowing all the answers to the problems straight away but trying to fix the problems together.

No relationship is perfect, there will always be problems but in the end, with time and patience, the love between two people can fix anything.

[intern-seraph]

“The damage is done” from the prompt list!!

“The damage is done.”

i need to give lurerie more love so here’s some soft trammander with a hint of hurt/comfort

The soft crackle and pop of embers filled the room as Lurerie settled further into the overstuffed couch. Her glasses slid down her muzzle. With a soft sigh, she reached up a claw to push them back up. Footsteps, muffled by a pair of knitted socks, piqued her attention. Her left pair of ears perked up, and she cast a glance over at Trahearne, who carried a small tray laden with a pair of hot drinks and snacking cakes. She smiled and patted the empty spot beside her. Groaning in relief, he plopped down and shifted to rest his head on her arm.

“Tired, old man?” she cooed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as he shook his head in good humor.

“We’re the same age, dear heart,” he reminded her. His pleasant weight left her side for a moment as he leaned forward to take his mug of coffee. The scent pricked at her nose, familiar and welcoming. “But yes, only a little. It’s been hard.”

“I know.” She picked up her knitting needles and her latest project. The sweater was only half-finished, and she’d spent the better part of a month’s free time working on it. Her needles click click clicked together as she resumed her work. “Remember that you can always ask me for help if you need it.”

“I can do well enough on my own most days. It simply… adds up.”

“And I am right here for you.” Craning her head to the side, she pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. They lapsed into silence again, broken only by his quiet drinking and the click of her needles.

Whether he didn’t notice or ignored the growing tremor in his arms, Trahearne only realized that his grip was slipping a moment too late. With a quiet yelp, the mug slipped from his hands. Coffee spilled across both his and Lurerie’s laps and seeped into the finished portion of the sweater. Lurerie stared blankly down at the mess, her paws frozen in the air.

“Stars, I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I ruined your work… is there any way—”

Lurerie carefully set aside the heap of yarn. She pressed one claw to his lips, silencing him. “The damage is done,” she said, not unkindly. “It’s alright, I’ll just clean this up and see what I can salvage. We’ll both need a bath, too, it seems… are you okay? Your drink was pretty hot.”

“I’ll live.” He managed a smile, weak though it was. “But to think that I can hardly hold a cup anymore…”

“We’ll find a way to make it work,” she asserted. Her paw slid down to his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I promise.”