#ven chitters

[blankieisablankie]

Blankie

My ven

Would you like to see a teaser for the fic?

Ven? ,’:]? But yes absolutely!

[cryptidm0ths]

Am i gonna need to put "atleast one layer of masks/performance at all times" to the list of character traits appreciated bc this is getting out of hand

[roll-a-troll]

Your name is Phejos Romjaz, Mir. You use ve/ven/ver/vers/venself and she/her and it/its pronouns, and your blood runs Rust; Aries is your sign. For reasons you cannot define, you feel something of an affinity to the idea of being a Lord. You are 10 sweeps old, and you've an interest in everyday carry, and dabble in troll macrame- At least, when the mood allows. You were brought up by your well-meaning lusus, silver foxaunt, and you aspire to be like your ancestor, The Tangible. If forced to describe your sexuality, you would say Every admirer is unreciprocated, and leave it at that.. Word, your shitty weapon, is your everyday companion, on this bitch of an alternia. You use the handle thoughtfulCaptain on chitter. When you type, you use 4's for A and make heavy use of slang, just like your friends. via roll-a-troll https://ift.tt/R24dD5c, do as you please

[transannabeth]

i got a letterboxd so i can be annoying while watching movies on multiple platforms

[hallowed-nebulae]

Fragments

[hey @beastenraged ! have another ficlet because “ven as a smaller Unversed” idea won’t stop chittering at me until i write it. also features ven’s “i may be bitter but also this person is Warm so i will trust them for this moment” syndrome]

You stop shaking about ten minutes after that other Xehanort (there’s more darkness in him than the Xehanort you know -- the one who’s Vanitas’ friend, the only Xehanort you don’t instinctively flinch away from) leaves the room.

For the rest of the three hours between that moment and the one where Terra calls for everyone to come eat the dinner that he stress-cooked, you wander. Just a bit, really. Mostly you’re clambering your way up the walls in the shape of a Hareraiser (your favorite fear-sorrow Unversed skin to shape yourself into, when you don’t want to pretend to be human and your current overriding emotion is too strong for you to be Anger or Joy). There is something very fun about clinging to the walls with your little claw-ears, white fur and cyanish green-blue insides.

At one point, you sense someone coming near and duck away, rolling into the form of a Shoegazer, your little red boot stomping on the floor as you hop to your next destination. You neither know nor care where you’re going.

At some point -- maybe around five minutes of being a Shoegazer -- you decide that this shape is too tiring to be in for too long, so you melt into an orange-white Mandrake. Your tiny pointed paw feets grip the floor better, and though you have no arms and worse eyesight in this form, emotions are much easier to sense when you’re skittering about in a melted, body-twisting form of a smaller Unversed identical to those that you create from within your own flesh.

There’s a deep longing somewhere nearby, and something rolling and rolling and twisting into itself, some emotion that gives only small little flashes of the hidden feelings inside, barely long enough for you to tell something solid is there. Familiar, but in this form that has no bones or nerves or blood, only half a cognizance, you’re far too scatter-brained to recall where it comes from.

There’s a door. You should get that, probably.

You could return to your human-shape. Instead of forcing your bones and insides into a different shape, you could be human-shaped again. Have your cognizance and braincells again. But sometimes you simply want to vibe as a small skittering creature. And besides, if it hurts to change shape, you don’t feel it amongst all the pain you feel already on a daily basis. More like a weird squeezing feeling, like a cat stepping on your belly or kidneys, but not really painful.

With that in mind, you puddle into a pink-purple Flood, and slip underneath the door.

There are three people in this New Strange Room. One of them is Tall and has Long Blonde Hair. One of them is the roll-y emotions one, silver-y hair. She feels upset, now that you’re closer. The third person is laying down on a cot, their own silvery hair a contrast against their tawny brown skin. Hmm. That’s the one with the longing, then. Kinda lemon-y feeling, tastes a little like a sunrise after a stormy night.

You twitch, skittering up across the floor to sit on the pillow next to the longing-feeling one. 

sad?/sad?/sad?/why-longing/why/why/what-missing/what-missing/sad?/sad?

But your gentle questions -- chirping and chittering -- can’t be heard by them, asleep as they are. They’re not an Unversed, and they don’t feel like a Nobody or a Heartless or a Dream Eater, so you guess that makes sense.

With that option of communication gone, you turn to the other silver-haired person. A girl. She feels Dream Eater-like.

friend?/friend?/friend?/safe/safe/warm?/safe?

you chitter in an ask to her, twitching your little limbs and antennae as you wait for a response. (She reminds you of someone. Someone important. Strongest-one, black-hair-red-eyes. Not yellow. Yellow eyes are Bad.)

“I guess I’m a friend?” The girl says. Her eyes are a red-purple, but more red. Pretty. (Not the red of strongest-twin. That’s a different red, you think. Hard to remember.) “If you want to be.”

A twitch. Your little hands pat at the sides of your lags. Pat pat pat. Pat pat pat.

friend/friend/friend/good/good/yes/friend/friend/warm?

The chittering ends with a soft click of the question. You twitch further still and wait for an answer.

“I’m not really all that warm.” She says. Her voice is. . . odd. Those twisting rolling emotions go twisty faster. “Fire’s not really my thing. You should ask Xion about that.”

face-thief/illusion-maker/liar/liar/brings-false-hope

you hiss, in distaste.

not-fun/not-fun/kind-girl/miss-twin/miss-twin/lonely/lonely/lonely

you do add, though, because it’s not the face-maker’s fault that her face makes itself look like other faces. Kind of sad, really. That your face would change so often. Really sad. You like your face and don’t like the idea of changing it.

Hmm. Oh! The person on the bed, that longing-feeling person, they’re waking up! Oh but they’ve got a lot of sadness and bitersweet and sorrow, that’s not fun. Hop up onto the bed, press your purple-pink head into their hand.

give/give/give/pats/pats/give-pats/give-pats

you demand, like a particularly insistent cat. You think they can’t understand you (that thought feels familiar) but they pat your head anyways. Nice.

Your “eyes” slide closed for a few moments before you jerk upright. Right! right right right. You don’t feel so awful anymore. You can be human-shaped again and not worry about blood getting everywhere. (It’s never fun when blood gets everywhere. Your warm-safe-lukewarm-earth-parent doesn’t like when you bleed. He always gets stressed and sad.)

Unlike when you change shape into a smaller Unversed -- where you’re focusing, pulling your body into itself with a bit of a mental tug -- the process of letting your body go back to its normal human-shaped form is like letting go. It’s all tingly, the cold burned away by heart for a few seconds before the cold settles back into your bones, like always.

You blink, shake your head a bit. Always a bit of an odd feeling, meshing your mini-versed memories and feelings with the ones from your regular body. You’re less coherent in thoughts like that, mimicking the heart-body fragments that crawl out of your skin, so it’s always weird to reconcile that with your regualr working mind. Part of why you don’t really do that much. Puddling into a Flood is different -- that’s for dodging, and you’re not forcing your mind to fit that mold as much as it’s purely just the change in body shape -- but overall you avoid changing shapes. Too inconvenient.

Still, it’s nice to be back in your regular, human-shaped body. Still with those claws. Red eyes. Scars. Your regular appearance.

Xehanort is entirely unphased by your sudden sitting next to them on the cot, of course. Vanitas is the one who showed you how to change shape like that (you miss him, about as much as you’re sure Xehanort misses Chirithy), so Xehanort has long since gotten used to either you or Vanitas just changing shape at all.

Ruse, over where she sits, looks incredibly confused. Oops.

I can do that. You tell her, trying to explain before she asks too many questions. It’s an Unversed thing. Also I’m sorry for attacking you that first time we met, when you said something mean about this worldline’s Terra. That was an overreaction and wasn’t called for, and it’s my bad. Sorry.

She stares at you for several seconds. “. . . what.” It’s not even a question -- just a flatly spoken word. Oops. Probably should have figured she wouldn’t expect you to freely flow between Unversed shapes.

She holds up a hand, the other one gripping the side of her hoodie. “Wait wait wait, before you continue anything.” She says, and you pause, shuffle into a slightly better sitting position, and listen. “Why don’t you hate me?”

You. Blink. Actually physically double-take, at that. [Why would I hate you?!] You sign, fast and messy, your shock making image-speak too risky with someone like Ruse who can only heart part of it. [I mean, that other X-e-h-a-n-o-r-t scared me, but he’s not like That Man when you think about it for a second.] You reassure. Try to, at least. (You ignore that your limbs are shaking again. You know he’s not that man.

Initial assumptions aside, when you sat and looked at him for a little bit -- hidden in the corner as a Hareraiser, but it still counts -- he’s actually. . . pretty different? Calmer. More willing to joke a bit. Kind of also like Vanitas, if Vanitas hadn’t been stubborn enough to worm his way into a loophole in possession. Someone desperate to avoid repeating something terrible in his past, and doing whatever it takes to avoid that.

Vanitas sent you away and let himself be beat half-to-death daily for years, just beause he refused to risk you getting hurt by that man. You heard part of this other Xehanort’s conversation with the alternate-worldline Xehanort that you know much more well. Refusing to make friends until there’s a world that won’t let them be hurt. . . it sounds kind of extreme and silly, but it also sounds exactly like the thing Vanitas would do, if he were desperate.

You feel a little bad for attacking him now, thinking through it. It’s always your first instinct that leads to snarling and shredding, that led to a knee-jerk assumption that yellow eyes meant that man. Vanitas has yellow eyes, and you still trust him. You just. . . have to let yourself be around him for a little bit to be more comfortable, just like you did with your worldline’s Xehanort.

You’re still terrified, but more of Ruse now than that other Xehanort. He’s a Xehanort. There’s only so many things he’ll do, and even if he tries to hurt you, you’ve survived something much worse from the body of a Xehanort that was far stronger and more skilled than this yellow-eyed one that Ruse has befriended. Ruse, however, is unpredictable. Her emotions are impossible to read, her mood seems to change at random, and you think that she means well, but she has a habit of not warning anyone about what she’s doing, which leads to things like you freaking out earlier and trying to shred the throat of her Xehanort.

You’re going to put her in the “Aqua and ilk” category of “how much can I trust someone”. Trustworthy at first, hurt you a couple times, has to show that she regrets that before you’ll give her a chance again. Her friend the Xehanort is in a solid “stranger I don’t know but might possibly befriend even if they look scary” category, which is better than the “be very afraid of always” category you initially put him in.)

Ruse seems surprised at your answer. “You’re sure you don’t hate me?” Her hand is gripping her sleeve pretty tightly now, and the other one is tapping on the edge of the cot next to where Xehanort -- the one you’re friends with -- sits.

You shrug. [I mean,] you sign, pressing the accompanying image-speak along with it, [I’m scared of you because you’re unpredictable and I can’t trust that you won’t hurt me. But I want to give you a chance anyways, because you seem nice.]

You slide off the cot, crouching and rolling along the floor until you plop yourself into her lap. Accidentally, it’s really hard to stop momentum when you’re vaguely sleepy from Xehanort’s humming. They’ve got a good singing voice. The song they’re humming makes something inside of you feel sad, pulls up a memory from Before. Listening to a song -- Before the Daylight, you think? -- a couple times. Listening to a different song, two versions, over and over. Dearly Beloved, both the chirping melancholy-that-turned-to-hope of the Unchained X version, and the piano-and-calm-violins of the Union X version.

[As long as you promise to warn me about stuff like that in the future, we can be friends and put this incident behind us.] You offer to Ruse, stretching now that you’re in the Optimal Stretching Position (which is, laid out on the floor, or a mostly-flat surface).

“Hey, so, not to interrupt,” Xehanort speaks up, and your red eyes flash up to their silver ones, “but. . . do you know if you can call your Chirithy?” They ask you. There’s hope, raw and strong and tasting like sunrises and cat-fur-softness.

You tilt your head, flashing a quick [maybe] to them while you lean upwards.

Chirithy?

A puff of smoke, and that familiar purple fur and red eyes and pink cape appears before you. “Ven? Do you need me to eat another nightmare for you?”

You gesture to Xehanort. They wanted to see if I could call you.

Chirithy -- the gentle, calm Nightmare that they are -- tilts their head, turning to face Xehanort. “Did you need me, then? I’m afraid I can’t do much, since I’m not your Chirithy.” They say. “My other half is still back in our worldline, with Vanitas, so my abilities are strained because of that as well.”

“Ah -- I didn’t need you for anything specific.” Xehanort confirms. “I guess I just wanted to be sure this worldline didn’t prevent summoning Chirithys at all. Do. . . do you know where my Chirithy is? Are they in this worldline?”

Your Chirithy tilts their head. “They’re here, I think. Sleeping, though. They’re trying to find your heart, but the one they think is yours is asleep, and that’s making it hard for them to hear you. I can get them for you, if you want? It’ll take a little bit -- I’m not as strong here -- but I should be able to do it.”

“Please.” Xehanort all but begs, and with a little hop and puff of smoke, your Chirithy poofs away, to find Xehanort’s Chirithy.

You blink, and realize that Ruse hasn’t said anything for several minutes. She looks -- angry, maybe, but also a little scared. You think. Her eyes have a hardness to them, and it makes a shudder crawl up your spine.

“What the hell was that?” Ruse hisses, dangerously low. Before she can go much further, though, the sound of a bell rings throughout the corridors -- oh! Terra must have found a bell, then!

[Dinner is ready.] You sign, standing up (brushing any dirt off your pants, picking away at the dried blood on your abdomen from those three Floods earlier), and offering a hand to Xehanort.

You turn to Ruse again. She still looks angry. That’s not good. That’s very not good. [We can talk more once we’re there to eat food?] You offer, with your arms and fingers for one incredibly still and smooth in making the signs. [I don’t know what I did to make you this mad, but I don’t want you to be upset. If there’s anything I can do to fix it, I’ll try?]

Several moments pass, Ruse visibly trembling and looking like she’s trying to find words. Finally, she bites out a “fine”, and follows you as you lead her and Xehanort to where you can feel Terra in the kitchen (or dining room, if they have one?) probably making sure there’s bowls and plates and stuff for people to use. Even -- this worldline’s Even -- follows you all as well, though at a bit of a distance. No matter, though. Everyone gets fed when Terra’s the one cooking.

You pretend that you’re not afraid of Ruse at your back, as you twist and skip through the hallways. If anything happens, you’ll be next to Terra again soon, and then he can be there to help if anything goes wrong. Just in case.

(Terra’s Nothingness is a familiar comforting weight, and you hurry towards it just a little bit faster. You’ve gone three hours without being next to your dad. You want to sit in his lap and be hugged and be warm again. Your bones are aching and your joints are turning blue again from the cold. Ruse is almost as cold as you are, which doesn’t do much to help. But Terra is warm, so he’ll make you feel warm and safe, like always.)

You wonder what dinner for today is. Hopefully something tasty. Hopefully something you can eat, with your issues with foods and texture and taste. He’ll make something you can eat, you’re sure. Terra’s good like that.

Hurry faster still, with red eyes at your back and silver and green following as well. Just a little faster. Things are fine.

[whitecatindisguise]

The Sundrop Alchemist (6)

Ooookay. I’m terribly sorry it took me so long to update, but life’s been kinda hard lately and I had more pressing matters than writing and posting stories. Anyway, I’m finally back with another chapter and, to compensate, this one is longer than usual.

Enjoy~

Summary: Hugo gets a brilliant idea of scaring Varian by taking the boy to a place crowded with ruffians and thugs. What he didn't take into consideration was the boy's determination... and some other, more surprising events.

Warning: swearing

AO3 link is here

------

Chapter 6: Of Thugs And Ruffians

Varian with curiosity, and a little bit of scepticism, trailed after Hugo through the woods. The older teenager seemed to know where he was going and going in random direction at the same time. The blue-eyed boy’s stomach rumbled again and he looked up at his guide.

“How much further?” He asked, trying to spot anything between the trees and high bushes in front of them but to no avail. 

“Almost there, Blondie.” Hugo replied, earning an angry huff from the boy. His nose picked out a familiar smell and he grinned. “This way.” He said, pulling away the high bushes.

There, in the middle of the forest, stood a building. Varian scrunched his nose at the state it was in. The planks were old, some of them falling away and creating holes in the walls. Windows were smudged, some of the glass broken, as if someone threw a boulder at them. All in all, the building seemed to be past its grand days. 

Hugo must have seen Varian’s face, because he quickly added.

“Looks worse than it is, Goggles. Trust me, you’ll love it.” And before the boy could argue, he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. 

Varian managed to catch a glimpse of the sign hanging overhead, the paint falling off but the picture of a small yellow bird and words “S_UG_LY DUC_LI_G” still visible. 

“Snuggly Duckling?” He questioned, managing somehow to decipher the name of the place. Hugo grinned and pushed the door open with one strong movement. 

“A table for two!” The older blonde called out into the room. Varian looked inside and froze, along with the occupants of the place. 

His eyes widened, body stiffening in shock, as he took notice of the people sitting by the tables. His body trembled at the sight of bulky figures in leather and fur clothes, horny helmets on their heads, pointy teeth visible in their angry snarls and eyes filled with rage. 

Hugo didn’t seem to notice the boy’s discomfort, as he pushed him further inside, a smile plastered to his face.

“Smell that, Sweetcheeks? That’s the smell of the real world.” He rambled as they traversed deeper into the room. Varian reached for his frying pan, holding it in his trembling hands, and pointing at the men surrounding them, Ruddiger hissing from his place on the boy’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath in. Feel it with your whole body.”

Varian felt a pull on his hair and noticed one of the thugs picking a lock, staring at it dumbly. 

“That’s a lot of hair.” The man commented and Varian yelped, pulling his hair closer to himself. 

“What’s wrong, Blondie? The outside world is too much for you?” Hugo asked, a grin on his face. If Varian wouldn’t be so terrified right now, he would smack the teen right there. Of course he knew what kind of place it was. He was playing him the whole time! Hugo started to back down towards the exit. “Well, in that case I’ll just take you back, you give my satchel back and we’re-”

He was cut off by the door slamming and he turned, noticing one of the thugs holding his large hand on the door, holding a paper. 

“Is that you?” The man grumbled. 

Hugo pushed his glasses further up his nose and moved the man’s finger slightly, to uncover the wanted poster. Varian stared at the paper in shock. It depicted Hugo with a smug expression and the most hilarious pair of glasses he could think of. Instead of the teen’s circular frames, the author of the poster gave him heart-shaped glasses. Underneath the picture there were words “Hugo The Human. Thief.”, and the price for bringing him up to justice. If he wasn’t terrified by all of the thugs and ruffians, he would have probably laughed. 

“Now that’s just mean.” Hugo huffed, pointing at his glasses and then to the ones at the poster. “Do these look any similar to those?” 

“Oh, it’s him, alright.” Another man commented and came closer, Hugo somehow dodging under the man’s grasp and running to the centre of the room.

“Greno, go get the guards!” The first man called and the one called Greno sped off through the door. 

“Guys, seriously. The guards?” Hugo asked, backing away but soon noticing he was surrounded. “Come on. Would you really hand over one of you?”

“You are not one of us.” The thugs growled and jumped at the teen. 

Varian stared in shock as Hugo tried to escape the grabs, but it was proving extremely difficult with so many enemies. For a moment he entertained a thought of running away while they were busy, but he had no idea where to go, not remembering the way back to the tower, nor knowing his way to Old Corona. He needed Hugo.

Coming to the decision, he quickly grabbed a lock of his hair and threw it, securing it on one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, but one away from the fight. With a grunt he pulled hard and the wooden structure gave a creak and fell down, shattering to pieces. The noise was enough to startle everyone, the men freezing mid-tying struggling Hugo. 

“ENOUGH!” Varian shouted, eyes burning with anger. “I-I have no idea what Hugo did to earn that wanted poster, but I need him to be my guide and he’s coming WITH ME!”

“Oh, and why would we let him go just because you said so, kid?” One of the ruffians turned to him, a malicious grin appearing on his face. “How is something so small and fragile going to stop us?”

“I…” Varian faltered and backed off, the large man towering over him. Ruddiger chittered from his shoulder and the boy took a deep breath, before looking up at the man. “Look, tomorrow in Old Corona they are having this celebration with alchemical lanterns and I want to see it. But, I don’t know the way and Hugo offered to take me there. Please, it’s been my dream for as long as I remember. Haven’t any of you ever had a dream?”

He looked around pleadingly. Hugo stared at the boy in shock. Was the kid really so dumb as to think the talk about dreams would get them out of this situation?

The ruffian from before strolled closer to the blue-eyed boy, his hook-hand moving threateningly towards his face. Varian froze. Then, as the man was mere inches from his face, he looked away with a distant look in his eyes.

“I.. had a dream once.” The man said and Varian blinked. 

“W-What was it?” He asked, voice trembling. The man stared back at him and, for a moment, Varian thought he said something wrong. 

“I always wanted to become a pianist and travel the world, giving concerts in all Seven Kingdoms.” The man replied and Varian blinked again. “But what good is a pianist with only one hand?” He pointed at his hook.

“H-Have you tried to play, even with your… predicament?” The boy asked and this time the man blinked. 

“I… haven’t thought of that.” He said and rubbed his chin with a hook. He eyed the piano standing at the back of the room and then looked back at the boy. “You think it could work?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.” Varian replied with an honest smile. 

The man slowly approached the piano and sat down, staring down at the keys. He looked up at Varian, and the boy gave him an encouraging nod. The man raised his hands and slammed them on the keys. The fingers of his right hand dancing on the keys, his hook doing no worse. The music filled the room, everyone quickly catching the tune and starting to dance. The performance ended and the man received a round of applause. He turned to Varian, a genuine smile on his face.

“Thank you. I never thought I could do it. Now I can achieve my dream.” He said and Varian smiled back.

“No problem. I’m Varian, by the way.” He reached out his hand to the man and he shook it gingerly.

“The name’s Hook Hand.” He replied and Varian giggled at how fitting it was. 

“I have a dream too!” Another man spoke. He was a tall man with a really big nose. “Name’s Big Nose, by the way.” He added and Varian snorted into his hand. 

“What is your dream, Big Nose?” He urged and the said man gave a deep sigh.

“Well… my appearance isn’t something people like to set their eyes on.” He started and the thugs nodded. “But I would really love to find a girl for myself. Someone who would love me and who I could love back. We could go on romantic boat trips, and picnics, and walks by the moonlight…” He sighed lovingly and looked at Varian. “You think that’s possible?”

“Well… I can’t say for certain, but I feel somewhere out there is a girl who will see you for who you are, not for how you look like.” He smiled honestly. 

“You really think so?” Big Nose asked and the boy nodded. The man smiled widely and shook the boy’s hand gingerly. “Thank you so much! That means a lot to me!”

Suddenly, all of the thugs started to shout out their dreams, all seemingly wanting Varian to confirm their dreams are possible. He encouraged Toll to become a florist after seeing his beautiful flower composition. He awed at Gunter’s interior design ideas. He applauded Ulf’s mime performance, swooned over Attila’s cupcakes, admired Bruiser’s knitting and Killer’s sewing skills. He laughed at Ven’s puppet show.

“You guys have such amazing talents and dreams worth fighting for.” Varian commented after Vladimir showed him his ceramic unicorn’s collection and broasted about a particular figurine that was one-of-a-kind and took him almost four months to paint.

“Great dreams, wohoo. Can we go now?” A voice cut in from the back of the room and the group turned around to see a very bored-looking Hugo. Varian’s cheeks turned red. With all of the thugs dreams and performances he forgot about the teen being there. 

“Say, what is your dream?” Varian asked and the teen froze just for a second. He then huffed and turned his face away.

“Not your business.” He muttered. Varian frowned. 

“Come on, Hugo. We all shared our dreams.” The boy urged but Hugo wasn’t budging. 

Just then, all of the thugs circled Hugo, pointing their weapons at the teen.

“He asked. what. is. your. dream.” Hookhand snarled and Varian panicked. Were they back at the square one? Why couldn’t they go five minutes without threatening anyone?

“Fine. You want to hear my dream?” Hugo huffed in annoyance and turned to face them directly. “My dream is to earn enough money so I can leave this kingdom once and for all, buy some posh house in the middle of some very posh town and lazy out for whole day, not needing to wonder how will I survive the next day!” He shouted out on one breath. “I would have so much food I can’t even eat alone, a bed with my name on it and I wouldn’t give a shit about what’s going outside my house, because I DON’T CARE!”

A silence that followed was deafening. Varian stared at the teen in shock. He was sure something was wrong. Mere talking about dreams wouldn’t anger anyone so much. He was sure that wasn’t Hugo’s real dream, but he wouldn’t push. Not now, at least. 

He wanted to say something to lighten the mood, when the door to the pub opened harshly and the man from before, Greno, if Varian remembered correctly, stood at the door frame. 

“I’ve found the guards!” He called happily. The pub immediately erupted into chaos. 

Hugo jumped and grabbed Varian’s hand, pulling him along to hide behind the counter. Varian was trembling, not knowing what to do. If the guards were there, they would arrest Hugo and he would be completely lost. He would never see the alchemical lanterns. Heck, he wasn’t even sure he could go back to the tower by himself, at that point. 

A quiet whistle gained his attention and he noticed Hookhand motioning for them to follow. The man pulled on the hidden lever and part of the counter opened, revealing a tunnel. 

“This will lead you safely away from here.” Hookhand whispered, motioning for them to go inside. “Go, live your dream.”

“Thank you, I will.” Hugo replied and Hookhand shot him an angry glare. 

“Your dream sucks, I was talking to him.” The man pointed his head at Varian and the boy giggled at Hugo’s hurt expression.

“Thank you.” Varian hugged Hookhand. 

“Don’t get caught, Varian.” The man replied. 

Varian nodded and slipped inside the tunnel, following Hugo into the darkness. The hidden door closed behind them

[goldenchocobo]

The Union Leader’s Daemons

Thankfully I already had two out of five Daemons already figured out with Ventus and Lauriam existing in the future. Skuld, Ephemer and Brain’s Daemons were a little harder to figure out, but I think I’ve made the right choices for them. I’ve never drawn so many tiny Daemons before!

Skuld and Brain were difficult for me to draw (Brain more so) due to their lack of official art, but I’ve done my best with what was at hand. These are also my fan heights, with Ventus being tiny due to him being so young, and Lauriam being the tallest.

A usual, Daemon forms, names and symbology under the Keep Reading. I have changed Ventus’ and Lauriam’s text to better reflect them during their time as Union leaders.

Ephemer

Settled: Tufted Titmouse Daemon Name: Aeterna Looks: A small, grey bird with a neat crest. She has large black eyes and a tiny black beak with black legs and feet. She has a cream face and belly and a ruddy-orange stripe under her wings.

Always flitting about, Aeterna rarely sits still, only occasionally perching on Ephemer’s head or shoulders chittering to him about one thing or another.

Symbolism: Tufted Titmouse are short-lived birds that are naturally curious and friendly towards one another, much like how Ephemer was curious about what went on in the Foreteller’s tower, and befriended many people he met. Aeterna means ‘Eternal’ in Latin.

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Skuld

Settled: Ornate Flying Snake Daemon Name: Dagr Looks: A small grey snake with a white and pink zig-zag pattern and hazel eyes.

While meaning well, Dagr can be far too serious for his own good, with jokes and metaphors going over his head. However, despite his usual seriousness, he’s patient and kind towards his close friends.

Symbolism: Snakes, although pegged as ‘evil’ for centuries, are creatures who shy away from conflict as much as possible. Dagr is derived from Old Norse meaning ‘Day’.

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Ventus

Settled: White Wild Rabbit Daemon Name: Nebula Looks: A pure white rabbit with fluffy ears and a fluffy collar who has bright blue eyes.

Nebula is a curious, wide-eyed rabbit who’s always looking for friendships. She, much like Ven is friendly, although shy and hesitant. Due to their younger age, she is quite naive and can take things at face-value. 

Symbolism: Rabbits are often conflated with mysticism and magic (to pull a rabbit out of a hat) but they are also symbolizes curiosity- especially a white rabbit, as the most famous white rabbit is the one from Alice in Wonderland. With Alice’s journey and main motivation being to find out where the white rabbit is going and what he’s late for. White in a broader sense is also the colour of purity and child-like innocence.

Nebula means ‘Cloud’in Latin, but can also refer to gaseous clusters in the galaxy that server as ‘stellar nurseries’ referring to Ventus’ very young age.

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Lauriam

Settled: Mute Swan Daemon Name: Euryale Looks: A mostly white, large bird with a rose pink tinted head and deep burgundy mask around her eyes. Her bill is a light peachy orange and her feet are the same colour as her mask. Her eyes are a deep blue.

Euryale is seen as a very calm and level-headed Daemon, who tends to put others at ease. However, her reserved nature can be misconstrued as coldness and intimidation.

Symbology: Swans play a part in fairy tales. As such Lauriam currently resides in an era that is referred to as ‘the age of fairy tales’. Along with this, the tales of the Ugly Duckling and Swan Lake could be used as metaphors for what will come of Lauriam; him becoming Marluxia, a vessel for Darkness- when he himself is a Keyblade wielder, a Guardian of Light.

The name ‘Euryale’ is the name given to a genus of water lilies.

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Brain

Settled: Wood Mouse Daemon Name: Lex Looks: A small black mouse with large pink ears and large beady-black eyes. She has a pink nose, tail and hands and feet.

While quiet, Lex is a very Conceited Daemon who rarely leaves Brain’s shoulder. She’s always ready to bounce ideas to and from Brain if need be.

Symbology: Lex is a Wood mouse for the simple wordplay of ‘Computer mouse’. However, Wood mice are very secretive and shy creatures, like Brain himself.

Lex is latin for ‘Code’.