tristayranambrosio

[tristayranambrosio]

This

[tristayranambrosio]

In Archstone's Shadow

(TW: DO NOT IGNORE THIS PLEASE. There are Illusions to abuse and Graphic injury, Drug abuse, assault, kidnapping, abduction, all the terrible evil things. Given the nature of a city run by bruisers cartels and Gambling debts that put lives at risk, This is the sort of place that attracts Scumbags. And Trist's old "boss" is very much here and thriving.) The discordant twangs and plunks that filled the office Jerrico had commandeered for his stay in Undermine were grating and wearing on his last thinning nerve. He leveled an icy glare at the goblin ‘Mickels’ and his more stoic cousin or brother or… some variation or combination of the two. They looked pale and uneasy despite playing with the instrument that they’d been sent to retrieve. Racko hung back taking his payment as he always did, and luxuriating in the high before the blood had even been cleaned from under his grotesque nails.

Sly. Lazy, and baritone Jerrico spoke, “What exactly is this about gentlemen.”

“L-look Jack, we didn’t sign up for this level of rough-“

Jerrico held up his hand silencing the protest, “I'm sorry, I thought I hired professionals.”

“You did! We’re the best there is! But you didn’t pay for the brutalizing, what Racko did was-“

“What I asked him to do. If you take issue with how I do business you are welcome to no longer be a part of it, I am certain other cartels would have use for you would then -not-?” This was already irritating and he did not have the time to argue with these whiney little goons. “T-the guy you sent us for, he was loaded… he knew you- He’s not some old whore like you said… He might have- connections-” Mickle protested. “Oh- I’m -counting- on it.” Jerrico chuckled. After all that was the idea. He hardly had any interest in ‘reconnecting’ with his long estranged product. Trist was significantly harder to control the older he got, the more known he had become, that damned Nestor and his Crimson Curtain peddled everything but Jerrico’s drugs and whores and the old man had sunk his manicured claws into the talent along with the ideas of standing up to -the- Jerrico Archstone. But now… Little Rat had married up- and done rather well for himself… The lute would fetch a price when he ran sobbing to his meal ticket that it’d been taken, surely the Noble would be inbound to meet - “It represents a -RISK- Jack.” The first goblin argued, Mickles nodding along, a twin pair of uneasy faces rolling eyes up to him, “And risk begets -reward- Jacky.” Jerrico sneered, and snatched the neck of the instrument bitterly, gloves still on. He wasn’t about to forget this patchworked thing had burned a man before. “You got what he had on him- AND the payment he forwarded for the escort on top of your fee. Risks are -inherent- in this business gentlemen. Now if you are quite through begging for scraps… I have another meeting. Five minutes ago.” “That’s -bullshit- Jacky! You had Racko pulp the guy’s LEG, and worse! That ain’t business its-” “Sending a message. That I am awaiting the answer for- get. Out.” His patience was thin as it was, and he -felt- Her there. Waiting. A silence so thick it was… suffocating. “What if he’s got PEOPLE!?” “That Isn’t my problem. Out-” He brandished his revolver then, another thing He’d stolen off the kid… it was lovely actually, and personalized. Jerrico thumbed the hammer and squeezed the trigger pointedly but not all the way. The pair scrambled out swearing abandoning Racko to his glazed eyed High in the back of the room. Once the door swung closed Jerrico holstered his new toy and eased off the trigger staring after the two idiots. He tossed the lute onto his desk chair with an angry twang of protest from the instrument and perched against the edge of his desk taking a breath and rubbing his temple. “They have a point… What’s so special about this kid’s husband?” Jerrico asked the back of the room, he didn’t look up as he started disassembling and polishing Trist’s revolver. Hands the deepest violet it was pitch and seemed to drink the already dim light of the room stroked Racko’s dazed features, and he moaned a soft pleasurable sound as a voice answered from seemingly nowhere… Velvet and soothing, “What dull creatures… they do not consider life or pain unless there is monetary profit.” The melodic caress of the Mistress’ voice was like being fed glazed sunberries from the vine it made Jerrico rigid and unsettled, but he never showed it, “Not much point of anything if there isn’t profit, Tits.”

The shadow stepped away from the addict as he basked in his high, eyes inking over into black-blood crimson as he pushed the last of his doses into his bloodstream. “Small minded as they are in stature then…” She laid a tender hand on the Hob as he hissed then luxuriated back into peace, the sort of peace that only came when the voices came so loudly… they ceased to be understood and only obeyed all while pumping his body full of power to conquer the worlds beyond worlds. She cooed a soft encouragement, “You though have had the ambition to refine our interests into something mutual profit… and power.” “Look, Tits, I asked a question, you can tell me you don’t want to answer. You aren’t here for small talk, and business is good. What’s the deal?” Jerrico huffed as he reassembled the firearm, having cleaned and inspected it out of reflex. “Did you receive a response to your note?” She asked. “Not yet. Maybe the Little Rat’s not as important to him as you think.” “You speak so ill of him… and yet in all likelihood you are his sire… I thought mortals loved their offspring.” Jerrico snorted, “If that little waste of my spunk is actually mine? Daddy’s in for a pay day when my ‘son in law’ comes to pay ransom now aren’t I. I love -that- to be sure.” The shadows did not seem to understand, they tilted their head and mused, “Curious. The motivations are so… vast… it is was makes you all so fascinating and easy to manipulate.” He thought she was going to vanish then, the conversation seemed over which suited Jerrico just fine. The bitch was cagey to say the least. Abruptly however, her voice came again, “We are assessing him. And we will not be far…” “That’s not creepy. Whatever. Am I getting my gold for this risk? The prick had a point; that little Rat is not worth the headache they seemed to think had been caused, and that tracks.” “Ah… yes… How much would you say this risk is worth.” “Considering bodily potentially to my person? I’d say the Prince Kale’Thas’ vault- and his crown even if its got a sin-stone attachment now.” Jerrico snorted. “Hmm… Very well…” “Excuse me?” Jerrico paused half lifting the rolled fel-weed cigar to his lips. “Gold is no object to us.” “Like hell it’s not, you’re the one who has us booming… You’re making me a fortune…” “We are done with this conversation. Your earned reward will arrive shortly…” The Dim parlor brightened and the oppressive weight of silence and darkness peeled away as the shadows did. Jerrico gasped for breath having… not realized what a chokehold it’d been to endure and swore. He wiped his face catching his breath just to find his nose bleeding “Fucking creepy ass bitch…” He lit his cigar and busied himself using Hypernia’s rose-holes as an ashtray, seeing as no one could seem to make it play, but she made a hell of a weapon, and the little Rat’s blood was still drying in the wood grain.

[tristayranambrosio]

Catalyst

(TW: DO NOT IGNORE THIS PLEASE. There are Illusions to abuse and Graphic injury, Drug abuse, assault, kidnapping, abduction, all the terrible evil things. Given the nature of a city run by bruisers cartels and Gambling debts that put lives at risk, This is the sort of place that attracts Scumbags. And Trist's old "boss" very much here and thriving.)

My escorts in the Undermine were as expected from a crew of eager goblins. Admittedly I hired the ones that I paid up front for the service, thinking I wouldn’t need them long and it would have me on my way faster. A hob and a pair of sharp as thumbtack bruisers were eager to assist me to their car. I didn’t think I’d need them to just tour the new city, but I knew my being escorted would put Leo at ease.

Over the last few weeks I had felt Leo’s awe and his delight. This city scratched itches he’d long neglected and the goal today was to surprise him… to come visit him at work as he so often did me. I had the dice I’d gotten for him rolling like worry stones in my hands as we drove, and I saw the tacky opulence of the city in neon and spotlight for myself. We raced past a stage that looked like a proper Sax-on-the-Beach venue with smoke machines and a shoreline with pink flamingo floaties, and I could almost picture all of us singing there for a crowd.

“Nice guitar.” One of the Thumb Tac sharp muscle-guards chimed from the seat beside me. It pulled my attention from the city flying past. His large Hob bruiser grunted his disapproval at the attempted conversation, but I wasn’t about to be unfriendly.

“She’s a lute actually, her name is Hypernia.” I offered by way of small talk. I smiled at the Goblin who regarded me. He was unreadable, but something like… amusement simmered on his pinched features, his olive green skin a warm and inviting tone and a face that looked like he flashed a lot of smiles, he seemed friendly enough.

“That So? Yer Lute’s got a name? A gender?” The snide comment made me immediately reassess if he was friendly or an asshole as he smirked clearly thinking me either a madman or dim.

“I’ve just always called her that... Do you play?” I asked, trying to stay light and unbothered. Most didn’t quite understand why I was so attached to Hypernia, this was nothing new, though this time it did get under my skin. My question was met with chortles and laughter, derisive and cruel with all jagged edges and bitter cynicism that seemed to be too constant in this city.

“Nah. But our boss does. Fancies himself a performer. Jack of all trades he is. And Racko here; You should let him play ‘her’ some time.” The driver indicated the silent looming Hob beside me. I offered him a smile, he simply glared ahead.

Undeterred I kept smiling up at him, “I’d love to hear some time. I actually teach music, and I could give you a lute to play, just not Hypernia.”

“So -generous-“ the first goblin snorted, his friend, the driver scoffing a laugh as he took a hard turn down one of the alleys.

The Hob, Racko, finally looked at me, then Hypernia where she was strapped to my back. Something about him made me uneasy abruptly. The bloodshot eyes, and tracks of dark marks on his arms that were only visible now that he’d shed his jacket for the drive and he twisted it in his grip.

Unsettled, I opened the bond, a set of strings between Leo and I that had formed when our souls stopped understanding things like distance. I’d been meaning to surprise him so I had flooded my end with music and nonsense, so he could safely ignore me and enjoy himself… but I had to know I was getting closer to him.

I wasn’t…

*”Trist?”* There was alarm in the thought knowing that I was so -close- but getting farther away from him in Undermine. The concern and panic was strange, but I didn’t have time to focus when a heavy leather jacket was yanked over my face and I felt the bite of a needle in my throat. My eyes watered as I tried to think back something to Leo, anything, but all he could feel would be my shock then a lazy haze of dizzy comfort… a familiar aftertaste and just nothing for a moment.

I awoke in agony… no dice in my palm and Hypernia’s comforting weight missing from my back. I tried to stand to assess… no remember what happened, but my leg wouldn’t move… for a frantic panicked moment I felt it wasn’t there at all but no… instead it was swollen and bashed in with some brutal blunt thing and seeing it twisted unnaturally with a bone clearly broken… as well as the illness brought on by whatever remained of the drug in my system had me bringing up my insides in violent dry mouthed wretches.

How long had I been here? Where WAS here? There was no -sun- here no way to find what time it was…

*”TRIST!!”* The screaming in my head wasn’t mine and there wasn’t enough room with the blinding pain in my being and for the gravity of the sound of Leo’s dread. I gripped my head and hissed at the sting. My hand came away bloody and it was hard to see, and despite the blow to my head my leg and side were what screamed in pain as loudly as Leo did in my mind. 

*”I’m here.”* I answered… though I had no idea where ‘here’ was… and my eyes blurred. I was such an idiot… I made him worry, I could fix this.

*”Where is HERE!?!”* His anger was like a surging -din- in my mind monstrous in its demand, it was his Star-eater, I would have been the same if I had lost his voice, his soothing presence on the other end of the strings I had been him not so long ago. I just hoped he couldn’t feel the pain… not that, please don’t share that…

I started to sob then… my once wounded right side felt like it had been punctured, and my brutalized leg was a ruin that made movement near impossible. Who ever had done this knew where to hurt me… knew where I had been injured in my past… and yet all I could think back in reply to Leo was *”They took Hypernia.”*

*”Trist I don’t CARE about that right now, where ARE YOU?!”*

*”An alley there’s… some dumpsters on fire… and… I think some rat-folk… They took your gift too… I’m sorry.”* I wept then… dragging myself and my useless leg to curl against a wall. It made me realize the sting in my side was a fucking -staple- with a note attached to me, the realization flashed a hazy drug addled memory of it being literally stapled onto my side and my screaming… Maybe I should be glad I’d been drugged because that should be hurting a lot more than it was. I ignored it for now, punctures were better kept in rather than ripped out and my leg was the bigger problem. I placed both my hands on my leg…. I had to fix it before Leo found me, if he saw me like this… He could actually cause a problem. *”I’ll… get it back Just need a second.”*

I forced out a broken sobbing tune and tried to weave myself back together, but the bone wasn’t right… it felt like it’d been mashed into pulp brutalized. Flashes of memory I was fighting to forget came to me, the Hob had done this… he’d done it with purple heartwood and kintsugi and I realized just how many times people had used Hypernia as a way to beat me in the past… Figured it'd happen again it always did.

Hurry. Hurry Hurry Fix it! I urged myself. I was sweating as my arms manifested with the much needed extra hands. They were sluggish and the effort was dizzying as they stopped the bleeding and tried to weave my bone back into place but were only partly successful, the fractures were going to heal -wrong-.

I tried to keep singing but I cried out tears stinging in between the lyrics. What the fel was the point of being able to heal if you couldn’t fix yourself?!

I felt him before he was there, a force of violence and shadow that burst every electrical bulb that he passed, a being that swallowed up the underground metropolis in his wake. Ithilios was there the next second as I leaned back against the bricks of a leaning apartment building. Angry cursing and expletives came from the open windows trying to figure out what the hell happened to the lights.

Weakly I looked up, eyes running with tears, the worst of it… I’d fixed the worst of it... I could only hope he couldn't see the extent of it, I mustered, “Heya Midnight.”

The Star-Eater looked at me… saw the dried blood… whatever they had done to my face and the note stapled to my side. His voice boomed with thousands more echoing his anger “Give me one good reason. That I do not destroy this entire block… this entire city right now, Sunlight.”

“Because I need you…” I whimpered, “Because I… because I know who did it and he isn’t supposed to be here…”

That made the Star-eater swell, boiling and more bursts of electrical sockets erupted and fizzled out. “Who? Did this to you.”

I winced forcing myself to stand limping on the crooked mending Leg that I was going to need to be looked at by someone other than me. Leo already knew… he knew my soul… he knew the ones who had tried to break it… and I shook my head trying not to say his name… to give him power. “He took Hypernia.”

I said stupidly… like Leo could give a damn about my instrument right now when I had just been assaulted…

“WHO!?” The Star-Eater boomed, shaking the whole bloody cavern.

“Jerrico.” I whispered, and I was once again… a scared child having been forced to obey on pain of hurt… I thought I had escaped him. That he’d just gone off and died on me… I’d even hoped for that. Instead he had waited for me to do something reckless… like to go and see my Husband as a surprise.

The endless rage within him drove the creature before me, but rather than charging off into the city he enveloped me in his arms and black at pitch miasma and tendrils of smoke swallowing me into the dark and so welcome starless night, He was my Mate trying to steal me from the whole world and nodded. “Okay… Okay… I am getting you home.”

The ice in his voice was terrifying and it wasn’t even meant for me. “I’m sor-“

“Stop… I’m taking you home.”

@ithiliosstarstrider

[tristayranambrosio]

[tristayranambrosio]

Just so lovely to read, totally recommend playing the song linked as you read.

Daily Writing Challenge Feb 2025: Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star

As the sprawl of a celestial map unfolds before the magi's eyes with a slow wave of his hand, the details he observes is of awe and curiosity. His right forefinger reaches to trace a path to tap on a single glistening point and in a trance like mutter breathes: "When are you..." The celestial bodies continued to glisten in this living tapestry of direction as Talthorn attempts to decipher what he needs from this. "I've seen you before. I know I have...." he peers deeper into it all becoming entranced of how this had been familiar to him. The folds of memories overlap over and over as he tries to discover these answers until it finally hits that wall. The itch persists as he can practically -hear- the time of it all that rested here. This star existed! His own eyes bore witness to it.

Silence lingers within his observation room and the magi is bringing his knuckle to the center of his forehead to tap it in the pattern of threes. Then the pacing would begin in succession with the repetition of actions. His other hand now writing in invisible calculations within the air. Tap, tap, tap. Turn, walk four paces, turn. Tap, tap, tap. This methodical repetition helped focus his mind of the where he needed to be within it for those solutions he craved.

As the surge of arcane sparks in his fingertip he stops in one of those many paces and turns to his musical companion resting it their place of honor within his observatory study. Drawn in by its radiant, unspoken promises, Talthorn chooses to indulge in the instrument's enlightenment. The magi knew the price for it was the same every time. Gathering up violin and bow in a tender motion, his luminous eyes would begin to close as he allows this part of himself to envelop him. All of his fluid motions guide him to a different place and time....

The silence is broken with the first resonate and haunting note into the air and Talthorn cannot help but breathe it in. This was where it began. He could feel it underneath an unidentified moon from an ancient past. The cloud of distortion he had been trying to navigate through lingers and only becoming stronger as he reaches in deeper to the where and when he has to go in his mind.....

The pace of the calling notes change and they begin to follow another pattern with still this attempt at a coercion to let him SEE through this music the path of this hidden time. This longing as he As once again he is denied, he drags the note out longer to echo and his eyes crack open with a different approach.

Talthorn waged a new war with his musical patterns in the notes and battled the weight of this newfound distortion that kept closing him out. He pushes against being drown out by the impending resonance around the bombardment of his solo sound. This quickened dance over the strings with his bow were guiding him down a more non-linear thought process and allowing him to embrace this wavelet.

His eyes shoot fully open again and he plays directly as this foreign chart before him with determination and purpose. The rows back and forth of intensity and volume were wavering on a these unseen scales. Losing himself to the organized chaos of this music was sensational. The strikes with its continued with his perceive shift and in these imperfect tones would have that encasement of these memories crackle and fracture until finally! It shatters realization and grand epiphany! Holding out the long note in gratitude, he held his answer and let the memory flood his mind.

As the celestial map continues to glimmer before him, he smiles warmly as his heart aches. This heavenly body may have faded from sight in this age, but tonight he would serenade the star properly. His own vow to have it remembered even if its light could no longer be seen.... @daily-writing-challenge

( A single star has the power to leave an impression for a lifetime. 🌟)

[tristayranambrosio]

Lurking Within

Leo sat on the chaise in the living area, his gaze lost in the flickering fire, with only his fox, Vega, for company. The distant sounds of children’s laughter and playful screams drifted through the air, a reminder of the life outside. Meanwhile, Trist and their newborn slept peacefully in another room.

What would have once been a dangerous moment of solitude, a time when his thoughts could turn dark and consuming, had become instead a rare moment of stillness. For the first time in what felt like forever, his mind felt empty—quiet. The usual din of voices, the constant clamor of thoughts that had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, faded into the background. They were still there, no doubt, but so much a part of him now that he barely noticed them.

From the far corner of the room, a voice broke the silence, cutting through the trance Leo had slipped into. "Yeh be doin' dat more and more of'en."

Leo blinked a few times, as if clearing away the cloudiness from his thoughts. "What are you on about now?" he asked, his voice low, not even bothering to turn and search for the source. He knew that voice all too well.

"Da way yeh look out inta nottin' for so long," the voice continued, its tone thick with an ancient accent. The footsteps came closer, soft and measured, despite the immense size of the Zandalari who owned them. "There be nottin' in yuh eyes when it happens. Like yeh be lost, like yeh be gone somewhere. Where do yeh be goin', Voidsinga?"

Leo sucked at his teeth, a faint twinge of irritation flickering in his eyes. "So I need a reason to enjoy silence now? You used to be so happy to see me find peace in these moments, and—"

"Dat was before them moments became sometin' else. I feel da air aroun' yeh. It gets tick and troublesome."

"Thick and troublesome? Please... you are reading far too into it."

"Okay... so where yeh go den? What was it yeh were tinkin' about just now? No lyin'."

From the moment they met, Zy'chaal had sworn to be honest with him, and Leo had vowed the same in return—no lies between them. "I…" Leo began, his voice faltering, the silence that followed heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he admitted, "…I don't remember."

Zy'chaal pointed at him, approaching with more assertiveness. "See? Dat not be right. Dere is sometin'. Sometin' happenin' to yeh."

With a long sigh Leo leaned further back into the chaise, "I am just tired- exhausted even. A new baby is rough. I know Trist is doing most of the work but it is still taking a toll on me as well. It'll be over soon in a few months."

"And den it'll be too late."

Suddenly, Leo shot upright in his seat, the abrupt movement sending Vega skittering out of the room. "Stop talking like that! There is. Nothing. Wrong!" Each word dropped like a thunderclap, the final one laced with a growl that rumbled deep in his chest—a warning, primal and raw. His voice, now carrying the edge of his Star-Eater form, sent a shiver through the room. His eyes burned with unbridled fury, and, as the troll had warned earlier, the air around him grew dense, heavy with power.

"Dere it be..." Zy'chaal approached showing little to no fear. He kneeled before Leo and looked at him with worry and sorrow- an expression he's never showed before. "Da raven fear for yeh too."

Leo's nostrils flared, his irritation palpable, but at the mention of the raven, Saiya, his expression softened—if only slightly. His features returned to their usual calm, though the annoyance lingered in his gaze. "If she’s so concerned," he said sharply, "why hasn’t she come to me about this herself?"

"She fears yeh, Voidsinga. She know what yeh are capable of doin' to her if yeh let that power overtake yeh. Best to not be in yeh way when it happens."

A look of guilt crossed Leo's face at the confession, "She really thinks I will succumb to something that much?"

"We both do."

A look of surprise now, "I am fine. I feel great, honestly."

"I taut yeh were tired?" Zy'chaal tilted his head, calling Leo's bluff. "Yeh lied."

Leo stared down at his hands, turning them over as if expecting to see the transformation his companions claimed to witness—but there was nothing. No sign of the monster they feared. His voice wavered as he finally admitted, "I did lie. And I’m… so sorry for that."

Pressing his palms against his face, he let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. After a moment, he rubbed his face and lowered his hands again, his expression weary.

"It isn't like yeh, Voidsinga. Sometin' is happenin' to yeh. But I will remain 'ere and watch yeh. Just like I promised. I hear dem whispers too. And they be sayin' a lot about yeh. Yeh be important to them and everyone 'ere. Dun let dem take yeh." Zy'chaal placed his large hand at Leo's cheek. "Stay wit us."

Leo raised his hand, letting it rest gently atop the one at his cheek. His gaze locked onto Zy'chaal’s, searching those eyes for the comfort he desperately wanted to find. Every fiber of his being longed to make that promise, to give the reassurance Zy'chaal sought—but something deep within him resisted, a quiet, stubborn force that refused to yield.

No lying.

[tristayranambrosio]

( Art by Sl4mazon https://sl4mazon-art.carrd.co/# )

It was hours… They always tell you it's going to be hard… and yet I thought I’d be graceful in Labor. Pride is an inelegant and lying -ass- and I can happily say there is none left in me. It abandoned me somewhere between the periods of anticipation and the excruciating process of pushing a -literal- PERSON out of body, even if that person is a fraction of the size they will one day grow to be. I screamed my voice raw and my body was drenched in sweat between walking, sitting and squatting. It was hard to remember I should be breathing between the war I made with my own anatomy. I also vow that should anyone diminish a mother’s position as the strongest and most tolerant being in our lives I will personally find a way to -subject- them to a -MOMENT- of labor mid contraction. I am certain I cursed more than I’ve ever done in my life, and have made up for my thirty some odd years of life in the span of those past few hours and I have to make a note to apologize to Leo and Anzhin and Mirri for that matter for enduring me as a fuming creature in abject agony. For all the pain and my verbal abuse He held me there, and endured with me. Sometimes I was sobbing and apologizing for putting him through this not once but THREE times in rapid succession. Other moments I was cursing this madness of birthing a child and wanting to actually crush the hands I was gripping and swear to all the powers above that I would -never- have sex again if it meant the pain would just stop. And for all that ride of hurt and pain… in screams and tears… I cannot for the life of me regret any of it, because in my arms lay this being with skin as dark as midnight and hair bright as starlight… Amaris… our child. He wailed and thrashed like he also had just gone through hell and yet when he was placed in my arms against my chest his flailing slowed and crying grew less furious… still upset we had the audacity to bring him into the world but less so if he was curled in against us. His trio of squinty eyes still teared but he reached for my face clumsily like he was not able to control any of himself… and I found myself unable to see anything but how perfect he was. Anzhin looked as if he might have run a marathon with me, and Ithilios gently set a crown he had woven himself of flowers atop my head. Before he even spoke my eyes were streaming. “Because the Mother of my Children, will always deserve a crown” He said softly weaving it into my tangled drenched hair as if for once the state of it didn’t matter, not when who he saw was holding his newborn as something divine… And even crying and aching… I felt divine when the room regarded me.

Mirri was in a word a saint for all she had put up with from me, and when she did her examinations and assisted me in severing the link between myself and my Son. Anzhin came forward, invited by Ithilios and I to kiss my brow and promise me Spicy Sushi and treats the instant I was ready for it. All while I felt his inner creature purring against my side just gazing at our son’s midnight skin, Admiring the Child he'd helped keep alive. I was relieved to learn that aside from the folded and wet downy wings, antlers, and third eye, Amaris was healthy, The right weight, the right amount of power in his lungs… Even if the void had touched our son… He was ours whole, and safe… Just as nothing had prepared me for the pain of the process, I was even less prepared for the realization that I had an infinite capacity to love yet another child in my life… this one though, I had carried for so long, imagined, and thought of constantly, I had felt their heart for as long as it had beaten… I had held our children the day Leo had brought them into the world and made me a father thrice over even after Nestah had chosen me as one for herself… but nothing could have made me ready for the awe I felt, humbled by the fact that what I felt for my Mate, what we felt for each other, had little hands… and a nose, and a mouth… that the love I felt could squint at us and fuss trying to get comfortable and squirm in a way so his feathers could dry. I don’t recall when I remembered myself, and looked up at Ithilios and Anzhin and whispered, up offering the wriggling newborn we’d waited so long to meet to his father, “Hey… look Amaris… It's your Poppa. He's been waiting very patiently for you.” “We all have.” Anzhin agreed with a smile and squeezed my shoulder. “Hello Amaris, my Starchild. I’m… your father…” Ithilios said with the deliberate softness he had offered to them within me, pausing only when the reality of holding his child and seeing them for the first time struck home… He was meeting Amaris at last. It was hours… and yet I would not trade one second of it… not when it all had brought me here.

(Thank You all for trusting me to write for you guys! @themidnightleo @anzhin-the-starman @nahisummerhold )

[tristayranambrosio]

Day 1 for May DWC 2024 (HoT Fest)

The Tenacity Isle after four days of celebration and the endless cheers and music, art, and storytelling was at last silent. The wee hours of the night winked stary and dark over the grass and tiles of stage and field alike, catching twin moonlights from the disks above, casting the whole space in the comforting hues of blue-grey, and Lilac-white. I smiled at the thought, imagining how even with the Pair of Hosts having retired for much needed relaxation and rest, they still seemed to suffuse their space with the presence of their Music, their movement, their charisma and their selfless support and love… Like true muses. I wondered if they realized that they had the unprecedented ability to inspire art with a simple nod or smile of encouragement to those like me. I wondered if they knew that if it weren’t for their help and patience that so many less would even know they could reach for their potential and seize it… I wondered if the Hearts of Tenacity would ever truly know that they made the world so much richer for sharing it with the likes of me.

There was something bittersweet about the space being empty after being so full, bodies pressed together and moving as one with the lights flashing, smoke, mirrors, ropes, and any number of stage props and illusions all now spirited away leaving only the stage and floor in its marriage of geometric-cosmos offset by the overgrown infusion of the natural spill of grass and vines. It was like the two of them in the best way, every inch from shore to steep cliff peak… the Isle -was- Tal and Kon. It felt like home. I have one of those now, but had I not I could see myself escaping to this space because it was the sort of place I wished had born me… an excuse to claim I came from an island that carried every ounce of love and expression of two souls that could inspire art from nothing… I scaled the cliffs, caution be damned, because I wanted to look down at the space from its highest point… and it would mean my impulse would take root out of the way and not disrupt their stage. I’d waited for all attendees to leave, just to bask in the melancholy that followed the high of sharing the parts of my soul that were too intimate and raw for any other crowd… this audience understood. They always did. For that alone I owe the community they’ve fostered everything. When I finally pushed myself up to the peak… I was breathing raggedly and had to lay on my back to catch up. I placed a hand over my little star and gazed up at the night sky and decided it was probably good that I wasn’t a month further along… I wasn’t sure I could have made it up otherwise. When I rose I noticed the faintest hints of the night drawing closer to an end and begrudgingly accepted I had to head home, leave this strange pocket of reality where it was melodies that ran in my veins, and dance that powered my every movement… I swear to you the place was magical in all the ways I once dreamed a place could be. Like the very soil under my feet drank in our arts absorbing it and committing those emotions to its eternal memory. I scanned the cliff for the right space and smiled when I found it… a simple space that overlooked the stage from behind, a view that saw both the show… and the backstage where we drank the levels of caffeine and hangover cures to make it through to next evening’s rave or performance… where we all stored train conductor hats and so many fireworks we could be considered an explosives threat…  Perfect. I retrieved the pair of rosebuds I had brought and set to work, One a deep Navy and Blue Grey the other a Pale Lilac and white. When the first bloomed it would be with blue fire and comet trails, petals almost feathered and patterned with the plums of a show-man… the other it’s mate would bloom in constellations and patterns, and flow with the traces of arcane ley-lines between the starlight. I never managed to have one bloom without the other and that was as it should be. In my garden it took me almost half a year to get them to propagate, but here… their roots basically leapt from their stems to bury deep in the performance saturated and music rich soil. Like they belonged. I sang softly one more melody to the space this year and sure enough… they bloomed in full color, vines spilling down the overlook, dramatic and extra in all the ways the two I had grown them for were. “A million dreams for the world You’re gonna make” Once the roses bloomed I trusted that the two Muses in residence here would appreciate them… because I suspected that removing them would be harder than just ignoring them. The gift was not enough to show them how much they meant to me, after all, how could I show how much their approval and support meant… How could any of us? It was a start. And I left for home with the Tenacity Isle perfumed with Comet Trails, Feathers, Starlight, and Arcane bursts.

@daily-writing-challenge @konietzko-sylvoran @talthorn-sylvoran (Love you guys thanks for hosting this year as always!)

[tristayranambrosio]

Vanity/Feelings Day 6 - February 23 DWC

(So! Little break from the back-ground story because I just have a better story for these words that is more current for Trist. Little Bard is ADJUSTING and depending on her husband alot more until she can build back her confidence. @daily-writing-challenge  )

The woman in the mirror stares back at me with my eyes and yet she’s a stranger… I hate the feeling it gives me, the face is mine only it isn’t… ”You’re so beautiful like this baby” She grimaces, repulsed and I revisit that same small shameful place where -he- only looked at me like this… when I wasn’t in the body that felt like mine. I feel like some unwanted reminder, the thing that holds me back from actually being perfect… The woman looking at me is after all engineered, made to be a version of me that’s better… So I’m a better toy. Then I hear my Husband stir beside me and he touches my back, eyes still closed. He tugs at the robe I insist on wearing to bed when normally I’d lay bare beside his own magnificent form. My Mate is no stranger to Vanity, if anything his is what makes me crave my own from wherever it seems to be hiding. I want to fit beside him… to match him the way I never feel I do. Groggily not even awake he moans, “Come back to bed…” I want to listen, but my vanity (or self loathing) dictates I stare at the woman in the mirror for a few moments more, risk making him more insistent, or worse waking entirely… but I have to remind myself… The Mate in my bed doesn’t see this as better… he just sees me… Being This woman means I can give him what I desperately have wanted to give him for years. I begrudgingly try to sort the conflicting feelings in me that this body gives me that ability but makes me feel… even less desirable than my given one… and I realize again how I’d been hiding behind Leo for weeks now, as if that could somehow make people not see me. In my defense it seemed to work better than it should. So why do I want to be wanted? Looked at… desired? Am I truly so self interested? Narcissistic… that I crave the validation that comes when I see someone looking me up and down and imagining all the ways I’d look with them… And I’m ashamed of myself for missing it… “Sunlight…” He groans and tugs more insistently, “Please… I need you back.” And like that it all melts away… He needs me and nothing else matters. It's the same groan that has dragged me back into his arms for years, and it always will. It makes me swell with this sense of belonging. When I climb back into the sheets, I feel beautiful, wanted… even when it's just to sleep a few more moments. He makes me feel at home in my body whatever it looks like from day to day. He is my everything… the font of my confidence and the reminder that I am not more or less, I’m just his. That simple truth is enough to make what was uncertain fall away, there’s simply not enough room when his plea for me rings within my mind, heart, soul. I only have the space for him.

[tristayranambrosio]

Notorious/Altruistic Day 5 - February 22 DWC

(Keeping it going as I desperately try to keep up with @daily writing challenge seems I'm gonna be a day behind though) “You’re scowling again.” Nestor sings at me playfully. I growl at the middle aged Elf dressed in the finery of a noble with an affinity for hues bright enough to make one’s eyes hurt. He was a riot of violet and sunset with waist long hair that was cuffed and beaded in artful chaos with a whole ear cuff and what he thought was a -scandalous- eyebrow hoop that he had clearly gotten when rebelling against his ‘upper city’ parents in his long ago youth. The Director of the Crimson Curtain Nestor, having forsaken a surname but kept the fortune to ‘slum’ with the true life blood of the city. He was graying at the temples and I think after too many years being someone he wasn’t Nestor the Notorious Cabaret Lord of The Crimson was now unabashedly who he was. I almost hate him for that freedom, the way he could be himself without a care for what the world saw, love as he loved… His Partner the Tauren Florist cast the Aging elf a warning glance for tripping my fuse while I was behind the bar given my tendency to break bottles when I gripped them too hard. I had taken a part time gig that I didn’t need to stop my clan from asking inconvenient questions, they wouldn’t accept that I just wanted to play in our band, that I felt at home somewhere at last… With Estibahn the cockiest Goblin bastard bassist… And my beautiful Rose.  I grunt and turn my back because I am scowling… because my Rose… who I remind myself is -not- mine is crooning a love song to one of the women in the crowd. Nestor turns to what I’m -decidedly- not looking at as I wipe down the bar, “Our little star, It’s beautiful don’t you think Jezz? How the boy is so altruistic with his romance… his affections. That he still makes them all feel so desired, wanted but never crosses lines. Its a delicate little dance.” “Isn’t that his -job-” I toss over my shoulder and I hate myself for it, my jealous stupid self pretending that I’m not wishing I was that bitch in the audience, with his hand cupping my chin singing into my lips while dressed in glittering costumes and jewels of teal, contrasting his perfect form against the overwhelming hues of sunset. “Oh come on now Jezzy!” Nestor swats my arm and I whirl to look at where this elf had the nerve to -touch- me like it’s some sour fruit stuck to me even long after the playful swat had gone, “He’s not employed as a Gigolo though gods above I’m certain we’d make a fortune if he was. No this is charity. And it almost brings a tear to the eye.” “Charity?” I scoff gripping tight to my bitterness as my turn forced me to see Trist lean to slip from the stage to straddle that woman’s chair with her in it, still singing like a siren as she gazes up at him with naked desire. Ancestors help me… He’s so different when they look at him like that… unashamed of their appreciation. I make myself finish hating myself… hating that I lash out and say the words I want to turn inward about the person who makes me feel alive, “You mean telling them pretty lies, being some fantasy for tips… its all a smoke show like everything here.”

Then Nestor’s words turned dark, hard, and cold, “But if you hurt him, Jezza. If you break my boy, You will always regret it. So stop -growling- and tell him how you feel before you let him slip away. Especially with Archstone -skulking- around again.” The horror in my face and form has me locked in place, did this- did he know what that would mean!? He knows?! How!? Nestor hopped off his stool and reopened his fan with a thwap and purred to his mate, “Now lets go get a closer look, shall me my beautiful bull?” I watch them in abject awe and Palehoof dips an understanding nod my way, hand always lightly brushing Nestor’s lower back with the gentlest hands I’d ever seen. I’m too stunned to rage… how did they know?! I- Have fallen in way too deep.

[tristayranambrosio]

Vengeance/Satisfaction Day 4 - February 21 DWC

(Content Warning!!!: This particular story has very sensitive content and I urge any readers to understand the severity of that. The story contains Drug Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Prostitution and addiction, Power imbalance, Closeted Queer Identity and related pressures of society, and just all around awful. This is from Trist’s perspective as we’re flipping from him to Jezza for these writing challenges but you all NEED to know what you’re getting into Jericho is a -villain- he is supposed to be horrible, please feel free to hate him I know I do.) @daily-writing-challenge )

Jericho Archstone was a known peddler of vice in Silvermoon since far before I was born. His empire had been built on the backs of addicts, and what was worse he knew full well the horrors of what he did to those who were desperate. When they could no longer pay, he came up with increasingly creative ways to exploit his clientele, my mother was among them. He filled her veins with poison with the constant reminder that she had the choice… but she’d always make the one that got her more of the very substance that destroyed her. But my mother is dead now… I’m all that’s left, And after the thousandth time I destroyed his supply of illicit substances with their hateful effects that he expected me to use or sell, he had to resort to another way to gouge her debts from my flesh. By putting it on the market to anyone with as twisted an appetite as his. I tried to run… but unlike the guards of this wretched city his drug addled goons had more motivation than gold or the satisfaction of roughing up a bard that was better at seducing their lovers than they’d ever be… if these jerks caught me they’d get their fixes free of charge. It wasn’t as if I never tried to escape him… eventually I accepted I would simply pay my mother’s debts and give in to the monster’s satisfaction.

“Who’s the Brute then.” Jericho sneered at me fiddling with his rings counting them like he always did, “You holding out on me? I haven’t seen a cut from his visits.” “He’s not paying.” I say flatly, I’m bored, tired, long past thoughts of Vengeance for what he did to my mother, and so disassociated I don’t even register it’s for me I should be vengeful. “You’re giving it away for -free- now?!” He booms furious. “You don’t -own- me anymore Jericho. You had your money a year ago. Leave me alone.” I say and never before had I let my voice sound so dead. “That’s fucking bull shit, slut. You still sell yourself, and I want the cut I deserve for -raising- you. Out of the goodness of my HEART!” I want to scream, roar… but I don’t, I simply reply the way I’ve trained myself to, the way I learned to meet even monsters with. A soft pity in my tone, “You need to have a heart first… all that’s left in you is a cruel organ that only draws satisfaction from your golden idol and your ring of loyal addicted followers.”

“You know every once and a while I think you might be my hellspawn and then you spout some shit like that. What’s he PAYING to leave those bruises on you? It’ll spook other buyers.” He scoffs at me, giving my whole body a disgusted once over, unimpressed as always despite the small fortune he got off selling me to lonely people who just needed to hear they were wanted. That was part of why I didn’t hate what I had been for him… the junkies couldn’t afford me, so I was often thrown to people who thought the only way they could have someone like me would be to pay. A fantasy that could convince them I loved them at least as long as the gold made it into Jericho’s pockets. So many of them were just lonely, some of them I helped assure, gave them the confidence to pursue those they longed for or just… forgive themselves for the mistakes they made in their lives. Convincing them they were better than paying for me generally pissed Jericho off but the gold he made shut that up. “I told you. He’s not paying.” I remind him. Bored. “You’re fucking a Orc-Chiefling brute that would be disowned for consorting with a whore like you? If he was paying he might actually retain some dignity in their eyes, but no you’re just giving it away when you should be threatening to expose his deviance, Is that the plan? Get him in good then get the hush money out of him when he’s good and hooked? Maybe you are Daddy’s little leech, the fruit of my very loins.” He smiles at me with all teeth as he stalks after me, long strides keeping pace as I try to just get back to the Curtain. The reminder of what he took from my Mother for years and the implication that he might be my sire sticks like tar in my insides and I want to be sick.

“There’s no -plan- Jericho. I’m not exposing anyone. Leave. Me. Alone.” “No just fuckin him and risking his discovery. You know -I- don’t give a rats ass but I know that clan of uptight jackasses. They won’t like that their Chief’s son is dallying with a washed up elf Whore, no matter how pretty.” “It's none of your business or concern.” I make to storm off but he grabs my arm and sinks his nails into my skin painfully, and for a moment I’m the scared boy I was when he came for me the first time, when he demanded the gold I’d made playing and singing and took everything but Hypernia and my Rose… I feel small and afraid and know this man was the one that had killed my mother slowly while I had to watch her wither away into madness... How do you fight something so huge, that sees us like chattel that bleed gold into his coffers. “That’s where you’re wrong, little boy.” He hisses into my ear, “You -are- my business.” I find my voice but it trembles out of me, “Not. A-anymore. I paid you all my mother owed. I worked for it, you got everything, l-let me-” “No. Give me what you have. I want you to PROVE all you’ve got in your purse is the chicken scraps that your beloved DIRECTOR gives you.” He sneers at the Cabaret again… my sanctuary, my safe haven from him… and I realize he’s sizing up a target. He’d tried to buy the place but Nestor wouldn’t sell nor would he allow Jericho’s goons to peddle for him on the premises. It was by no means a dry or sober place, but Nestor didn’t want anything to do with the Archstone empire… The only reason they were in jeopardy was because of me then too, because Nestor took me in when he caught me sleeping under his tables. I tremble at the thought of those inside coming to harm because of my refusal to comply and I shove my coin purse into his chest then wrench free, “Take it. Leave me alone!” I take off but I don’t run… if I show anyone it puts them at risk… Jericho doesn’t need the meager wage in my purse… its not about that. Its about reminding me that the world doesn’t like people like me, people who refuse to lose their faith in others because of monsters like him. I will never give him the satisfaction of breaking me.   

[tristayranambrosio]

Bargain/Myth Day 3 - February 20 DWC

(More Jezza! Slight CW: Sex industry/prostitution) Trist’Ayran is something they only tell of in myth… like when he came into the world it was off the pages of some old music sheet, and some being of pure, beautiful song was made into a mortal. Each freckle on his skin is another constellation I memorize when he breathes heavily, and purples where I had kissed his shoulders, neck, everything… My tusks also leave angry red marks in their wake… and yet for some reason, this being does not resent me for the damage I inflict with a sort of intensity that my heart feels… sings with, when he speaks my name. I’m in too deep… He peers over his shoulder at my shuddering form, and I’m spent past my last breath but I still react to that knowing gaze. “Why… is my war-wolf spooning with me?” I growl annoyed and make to pull away, I’m in too deep, I’m in too deep I’m- Trist touches my cheek and he twists his lithe perfectly soft form to regard me with an expression that takes my breath away. I am paralyzed and contemplating if it is some incubus that has ensnared me and feeds upon my pleasure the heights that only he’s seemed able to reach in me. Had I known… Had I known this creature would see me… “Sorry-” He apologizes and withdraws his had, with it the spell that had halted me, “If you need to go I understand.” He turns away and makes to extract himself from my arms, but something was different about it, that pause… what had it meant!? Why did he apologize, I hate it, his apology for looking at me like that… was he going to ask me to stay? He never did that. “Wait.” I say before I think. Trist is half way into his undershirt, its been mended half a dozen times, and I wonder idly looking at him… really looking at him. He’s… smiling but its not in his eyes, like a snarl or warrior’s glare, that hides the truth in all but your eyes. He’s tired… so tired, and I consider that he had endured that bastard Jerico before he’d arrived to the cabaret. What is that twisted bargain he made with the slimy flesh peddler? Had Jerico hurt my Rose? The bard paused, “Hmm? What is it Jezza? Can I do something more?” There it is, this is about me again… and I open and close my mouth before I finally brokenly say defensively, “I don’t cuddle, you know I don’t like… men-” There’s something like disappointment that he hides in those beautiful eyes and it makes me finish my thought, “But-umm… I want to see you again.” There’s something like hope now and a tenderness that squeezes a fist around my heart I -feel- my Rose bloom just a little after the world seemed intent to make him wither in the face of reality… and rather than balk at my boldness, my confession that wasn’t a confession… He’s gentle when he leans in to kiss not my lips, chest, or more intimate places, and instead presses it to my brow, Gloriously half clothed and haloed in the curtains and lanterns of the Cabaret, his sanctuary, his temple… “I’m always here for you, Jezza, whenever you need me.” He says it like he’s said it a thousand times to a thousand others… and something about that hurts… He thinks I’m like the ones that pay… “I-...” What can I even say? I might as well be like them… who is this Mythical being I’ve touched… what has he gone through? Endured? I want to know now… need to know now… so I ask the stupidest thing because I just can’t handle the thought of being just another one of the people who have never wondered who’s the man behind the mask, “Why do you always smell like roses?” He blinks at me, clearly having not expected it. “Someone gave me one when I was little… they’re… they’re important. Even if I’m so much more a weed, like a dandelion or something… someone thought I deserved a rose.” “... You do.” I say flatly, awkwardly, feeling exposed and not because I have remained undressed. He chuckled softly, shaking his head, “You misunderstand, Roses and Dandelions aren’t so different. They’re both resilient and defiant… strong in the face of all climates… environments, and they remain… even after the rain and the frost… still beautiful.”

“You deserve both.” I say more comfortable. Trist softened, “So do you Jezza. I know you like Pale’s arrangements.” “No I don’t.” I lie. He rolls his eyes and he chuckled, “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” “...Okay.” I want to say so much more. I want to tell him I love roses… I love dandelions… I love… this… whatever it is and it takes everything in me not to break and bring him to my room and keep him there with me all night. Instead I just watch him leave limping a little, but I know he’ll recover by morning… and this stupid part of me is smug that for a few more hours he’ll feel bruises from our tussle and struggle… but I beat that part of myself down. My Rose… my rose that isn’t mine… or anyone’s No more than a Myth can belong to anyone.

@daily-writing-challenge 

[tristayranambrosio]

One Jump Ahead

DWC- Day 5- Notorious/Altruistic

Snatch.

With deft movements, apples vanished from one spot, a loaf of bread from another. The necklace of a noble disappeared, as did someone else's entire bag.

What's that commotion? Whoops, was that your sandwich? Not anymore.

Silvermoon City was gripped by a plague of thievery, perpetrated by a mysterious figure no one could apprehend. This elusive presence came and went swiftly, leaving market vendors in uproar.

Leo huddled in his humble abode, surveying his day's haul, mostly food for sustenance. Any material possessions would be sold off come morning to the fence.

Posters plastered the city walls, branding the culprit as "The Void".

"The Void? Hm, not bad. But could be better," Leo mused, emerging from his hideout to examine the poster. "No picture. How do they expect anyone to catch this person?" He flagged down passersby, pointing to the poster. "Seen this?" he asked.

The couple nodded. "Hope they catch whoever it is. A menace. A leech," they remarked, eyeing Leo's disheveled appearance with disdain.

"Indeed. But how will they catch them without a picture?" Leo queried genuinely.

"They'll set traps, obviously. What else?" the couple retorted.

"Traps? Like what?" Leo inquired.

"Bait them with what they steal most," they explained, rolling their eyes and moving on, advising Leo to take a bath.

Insults were nothing new to Leo- whether about his smell or looks, he had heard it all. He pondered the idea of traps as he returned to his makeshift shelter for the night. "Traps, huh? Good to know," he muttered before retiring.

@daily-writing-challenge

[tristayranambrosio]

Showtime

DWC- Day 4- Vengeance/Satisfaction

You have practiced for weeks. You got this.

Throughout the evening, an inner monologue had persisted as the show unfolded—a grand display of talent that many eagerly awaited each year, and now Leo was about to participate. Confidence had filled him until this very moment. But why? He knew all the steps, the lyrics to the songs, the flair and tricks to enhance the performances. Yet, he found himself paralyzed at the mere thought of stepping onto the stage.

One stellar performance followed another, each act leaving the audience in complete awe. Every performer seemed to outdo the last, raising the bar higher and higher. How could the act Leo was a part of possibly surpass any of these outstanding displays?

The day had been fraught with tension due to personal matters, heightening the difficulty of the evening for Leo. Swallowing thickly, he endeavored to push aside the weight of it all and concentrate on the present moment—the performance.

Indeed, it was challenging when the issues loomed large, particularly with his bandmates. Tension simmered between Trist and Leo, stemming from Leo's single-minded focus on perfecting the performance, inadvertently neglecting their relationship in the process. Additionally, Faolan seemed perturbed by Leo's recent involvement with a new lover, further complicating matters within the group dynamic.

And to add to the complexity, Leo's new lover was among the audience members, adding another layer of emotional tension to the already fraught situation.

As if caught in a whirlwind of chaos, everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. However, in a sudden and unexpected turn of events, everything snapped back into place the moment the announcement was made.

"Please welcome Night Blooming Vulpine!"

There it was. The moment had arrived. Leo exchanged glances and nods with the band, a silent coordination between them. He told himself he was ready—or at least, that's what he wanted to believe. As the music started, signaling it was time to get into place, Leo braced himself for what was to come.

Shadows.

A multitude of eyes watched intently. Lovers, friends, best friends—all of them focused on Leo and the band. The weight of their expectations bore down on him, intensifying the pressure of the moment.

Don't mess up, don't mess up.

Leo moved with the music, seamlessly singing his parts and interacting with the others on stage as if all tension had vanished. Yet, beneath the surface, they were all merely playing their roles, putting on a performance that masked the underlying complexities of their relationships.

Art by nastovski on YCH.Commishes

One song done. Two songs done. Three songs. Four. And then the finale.

After taking a bow and basking in the roaring cheers from the crowd, Leo's smile widened, grateful that they had thoroughly enjoyed everything the band had to offer. Backstage, he shared in the jubilation with both Trist and Fao, reveling in their collective victory. Adrenaline surged through their veins, electrifying them with the thrill of the moment.

Despite the challenges and complexities they faced, they had this moment, and it was undeniably beautiful.

@daily-writing-challenge

[tristayranambrosio]

"Suppress/Pastel" Day 2 - February 19 DWC

(So unexpectedly everyone enjoyed the little peek into the cast around Trist's past, specifically Jezza inspired by one of my old DND partners and his interactions with my table-top bard. So maybe this DWC is just going to be more of their super dysfunctional relationship full of angst and unrequited feelings. Its tragic but beautiful and I hope it remains entertaining!)

I watch my tall brute suppress a smile as his thick weapon callused fingers brush the delicate pastel petals of Palehoof’s latest bouquets that decorate the Cabaret. The moment he notices I’m watching he stiffens and hunches, cutting a glare at me for admiring his secret self… I don’t know why he bothers, I’ve felt first hand who he really is, and no one here after closing would care if he was honest with himself. About me… Sometimes I allow that to itch at me, but then again… that’s not what I am. I promised that I would never let myself feel any sort of entitlement to their secrets, my many Sweethearts and patrons, that’s now what I set out to do… and I had fleetingly considered dropping the topic all together with Jezza given he was after all in the band now, but every time I pulled away, he’d seize me by the arm and pin me in some hidden corner and ravish me with the sort of Reckless abandon that he so vehemently flights to suppress. There’s so much passion in his brutalized soul, and I catch glimpses, fragments of the person he is… He loves the softer touches that answer his brutal ones, the gentle caresses that I follow his violence with. Sometimes I think he hates me, and this is all some outlet to soothe some hurt my people did to his, but then he’ll allow just enough of himself through that I see the admiration, the envy that I am unabashedly myself where he cannot be or thinks he cannot be…

Regardless, his glare never dissuades or intimidates me, if anything it emboldens me because being a ragdoll he can throw against a wall one moment then kiss hard enough to split my lip the next has a certain appeal and catharsis, for both of us… I realize that he’s still glaring and answer it with a smirk so wide it makes his face darken with what to everyone else would seem like outrage… I see it for what it is; He’s flustered, imagining the soft petals in his fingers were my lips given they match my pink… So I part them and wet my lips meaningfully and I pop one of my hips resting a fist against it. His dark magnificent skin flushed red tusks and teeth clenched in a snarl, and wide chest rumbling a growl at me, His jet black locks are still tussled from when I pulled them from their braids giving him this wild rugged handsome flair to his fury, He looks unhinged to the untrained eye… And yet I know he’s barely able to suppress the urge to touch me, and rip me out of my clothes. I belong to no one and everyone and yet I admit, my Drummer doesn’t let me think about belonging to anyone ever… all while never saying anything but holding me so tightly against him that he may as well be the stocks himself, like that could make me his… But that’s not what I am… Instead he lifts me by both arms. Restraint a forgotten courtesy that I’ve lost the ‘privilege’ to… and I live for it. He pulls me behind the Crimson curtains that our venue takes its name from and he palms my jaw as he has his fill of me and me of him… He’ll quit tomorrow, declaring that I’d conned him, tricked him into bed again… He’ll break new drumsticks, put fists through a snare, and before I even manage to fix them he’ll be back… awkwardly offering me a rose wordlessly and sitting to help me mend the damage he’d done on his way out, because that way he doesn't have to leave.

@daily-writing-challenge

[tristayranambrosio]

Full Circle

DWC- Day 2- Suppress/Pastel

Another day dawned upon Stormwind, and Leo found himself navigating its streets with caution. The past few months had seen him keeping a low profile, laying low and hidden from the limelight, all thanks to a daring heist he had orchestrated against a renowned tavern within the city walls. Now, tentatively stepping onto the cobblestone pathways, he couldn't help but notice the lackluster ambiance that surrounded him, despite the city's usual bustle.

As he wandered through the maze of canals and districts, his journey led him to Lion's Rest, where a familiar figure caught his eye amidst the crowd—a certain ginger-haired dame.

GiGi Fiske.

GiGi had always been more than just a friend to Leo; she was his confidant, the one person with whom he shared his deepest secrets—something he couldn't bring himself to do with anyone else, not even his former partner in crime. Approaching her, Leo was serenaded by the gentle strains of a lute, played skillfully by a magenta-haired elf standing nearby—a sight and sound he had sorely missed.

After exchanging greetings with GiGi, Leo's attention was drawn back to the bard, whom she introduced as Trist'Ayran Ambrosio-Autumnrayne—a name that sparked recognition within him.

Trist'Ayran Ambrosio-Autumnrayne was his name.

Gif by Kotlass on YCH.Commishes

There was an undeniable allure to the lute player, a stark contrast to Leo's own demeanor. Clad in vibrant teal hues, the elf's attire screamed of brightness, his hair a striking color that caught Leo's eye. Despite the exuberance in his appearance, a somberness hung in the air as the lute's melancholic melody filled the space. Leo stood at a distance, observing the bard with keen interest. He noted the fluid movements, the subtle flicks of wrists and ankles that set the bells adorning Trist into motion, adding depth to the sorrowful tunes. Everything about the bard seemed to radiate sadness to those who paid attention.

Yet, as people passed by, smiles adorned their faces, greetings and compliments showered upon Trist for his masterful performance. It was indeed a captivating display, but they failed to grasp the pain concealed behind his façade.

Approaching the bard, Leo engaged him in conversation, each word tinged with a sense of desolation. The adeptness with which Trist crafted a façade of beauty to mask his inner torment intrigued Leo deeply. He felt compelled to delve further into the enigma that was the bard.

No, he NEEDED to unravel the mysteries veiled beneath Trist's cheerful exterior.

@daily-writing-challenge

[tristayranambrosio]

Stalking Prey

DWC- Day 1- Flirt

Leo had ascended far in his career as an escort, mastering the art of discerning people's desires and effortlessly weaving himself into their lives. Serving as the coveted trophy on the arm of nobility had not only earned him a reputation but also a substantial fortune, ensuring his comfort and style. Now, he reveled in his sense of power, feeling capable of manipulating anyone to fulfill his whims.

His latest target was a formidable businesswoman, the mistress of an extensive trading empire. Enthralled by her strength, cunning, and beauty, Leo saw her as the ultimate challenge. Standing nearly as tall as him, with a gaze that could intimidate the most confident man, she presented the perfect opportunity to test his skills.

One day, he made his move in the bustling market, shadowing her as she discreetly made mundane purchases. Leo observed her every move, analyzing her demeanor and mannerisms to devise his approach. Her effortless grace and poise were qualities he had spent years honing, yet she seemed to possess them effortlessly.

As he prepared to approach her, she preempted him with a cutting remark, piercing him with her steely gaze. Leo, dressed as a nobleman but far from it, sensed her judgment, perhaps aware of his profession and the façade of charm he maintained. "Done stalking me? Finally found the courage to speak to me?"

With a respectful bow, Leo offered a fabricated apology, "I apologize for having such an uncouth way of coming to you but I had to ensure you were the owner of this piece of jewelry that I suspected fell from you." He then presented a stunning ruby necklace he had skillfully liberated from her possession. It was a gorgeous marquise shaped ruby necklace in silver, feathers appearing to spring from the gem itself. Her finger had a ring that matched it's likeliness. Her surprise momentarily softened her icy demeanor as she accepted the necklace, her mind racing to comprehend how it had been returned to her.

Lifting it slowly from his palm she muttered, "Thank.. you." Her eyes remained on him in thought. Leo tilted his head, "Is something wrong?" She observed the necklace. It was very much real and it was hers. "How- when..." Leo smoothly deflected her inquiries with a fabricated tale of happenstance, masking his true actions behind a veneer of chivalry. He smiled at her, "Sometimes their latches can come loose. That goes for -any- piece of jewelry. Fortunately I was nearby to see when it fell from your neck."

A lie. He had stolen it straight off her neck masterfully without her noticing the weight of it lifted from her body.

The businesswoman, grateful yet suspicious asked, "How do I repay a kindness such as this? This is a custom set that no other owns. You could have very well made your way home with it."

"And what sort of gentleman would I be had I done so?" Leo smiled softly.

"Oh so you are a gentleman now?" That judgmental glare returned with a perk of her brow.

"Suppose it is a matter of perspective. But I like to think I am. But never mind paying me back. It was nothing but a simple gesture of kindness I suppose." Dismissing any notion of repayment, Leo maintained his façade of gallantry, deflecting her skepticism with a charming smile. As he gracefully took his leave, a sly smirk danced upon his lips, knowing he had successfully intrigued her.

In a twist of fate, the businesswoman, intrigued by Leo's charisma, extended an unexpected invitation, unwittingly falling into his carefully laid trap.

The woman asked, "Are you free for lunch?"

@daily-writing-challenge