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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #178

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building the beach’s demon king of the sixth heaven, Oda Nobunaga (Berserker)! This extra spicy Nobu is a Swords Bard to make her axe a little more literal while still grabbing the freaking spaceship we need to build, a Four Elements Monk to grab that giant flaming skeleton, and just a bit of Fighter for high-speed guitar skills that would make Hellshake Yano weep with jealousy.

Check out her build breakdown here, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Team Tyrannical Shooting Star... again.

Race and Background

Nobu is still a Variant Human, giving her +1 Wisdom and Charisma. The Deception proficiency she gets is also super useful for your fool’s tactics, as is the Mobile feat, which gives you an extra 10′ of movement each move action, and you can escape from enemies you’ve attacked this turn without dealing with their attacks of opportunity.

She gets the Entertainer background this time though so she can rock out on the beach with proficiency in Acrobatics and Performance.

Ability Scores

Nobu’s Charisma is top notch, which isn’t surprising. She really knows how to make an entrance. After that is Dexterity, because playing a guitar is hard, but playing one with a chainsaw attached is even harder. The fact you still have both hands is tribute to your skills. Your Dexterity is next, your primary fuel for that fire is... you. A lesser servant would already be charcoal by now. Your Wisdom isn’t terrible, though that’s mostly for multiclassing. Your Strength’s a bit low, but your weapon’s damage comes from being a chainsaw more than you swinging it. Finally, dump Intelligence. You’re still Nobu, and you’re also a berserker this time around.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: We’re starting off as a fighter mostly for the weapon proficiencies, but the extra HP and concentration buff doesn’t hurt either. You get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two skills- Insight will help make you a lot smarter than you look, and Intimidation is just really easy when you have a giant flaming skeleton backup singer.

You also get a Fighting Style, so grab Superior Technique to throw out a Distracting Strike once per short rest. When you hit a target with a distracting strike, you’ll deal more damage, and the next non-you creature to target it gets advantage.

You also get a Second Wind you can use as a bonus action once per short rest for a bit of healing. This isn’t even the last healing thing you get- I don’t know why you’ve got Garden of Avalon attached to a skill, and honestly I don’t care. It’s awesome.

2. Monk 1: One thing fighter doesn’t have going for it is the ability to duke it out in a T-shirt. Monk fixes that handily with Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC based on your Dexterity and Wisdom. It’s... not a huge boost, but it’s something?

Even better, you get Martial Arts, so now you can use your dexterity instead of strength to attack with your monk weapons. A guitar/cd player/chainsaw isn’t a monk weapon yet, but at least your punches will land.

3. Monk 2: At second level, monks can use their Ki for all sorts of things on their bonus action- dash, disengage, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action, by spending ki points! You get Monk Level ki points per short rest. You also get Unarmored Movement, making you even faster while not wearing any kind of armor.

Most importantly, you can turn your axe into a Dedicated Weapon over a long rest, turning any non-two handed or heavy weapon into a monk weapon. Battleaxes are versatile, not two-handed, so now you’ve got an axe-sized axe that you can really use. And it only took three levels!

4. Fighter 2: We’re popping back to fighter one last time for Action Surge, giving you a second action on a turn once per short rest. I don’t know what qualifies as a “sick guitar solo” in D&D, but I hope playing twice within the same six seconds counts.

5. Bard 1: Now that you’ve got your speed up, your music should be a bit more magical. First level bards can use Bardic Inspiration as a bonus action, giving your allies a d6 to use on an attack, check, or save. You get Charisma Modifier inspiration dice to hand out per long rest. You also learn a couple Spells that will put your high Charisma to use.

Grab Vicious Mockery and Bane to throw people off their game, and Prestidigitation so you can do whatever you want to with minor magical effects. You also get Heroism and Cure Wounds for more party support, Faerie Fire for just a touch of flame right off the bat.

You also get one more skill proficiency, so grab History. You’re not an academic, but you are a historical figure.

6. Bard 2: Second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to checks you’re not proficient with. You also get a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to healing done over short rests. We’re still a ways away from your giant flaming skeleton, but for now you can use Silent Image so it looks like you have one.

7. Bard 3: We debated a lot between making you a Swords bard or a Valor bard, but in the end the former won out so you can make your weapon your casting implement. Thanks to your new Dueling fighting style, you can play the axe one-handed just as well as you do with two hands, and you also get Blade Flourishes using your Inspiration. When you take the attack action, your movement increases by 10′, and you can spend an inspiration die to deal extra damage and get another effect. A Defensive Flourish adds the roll to your AC for a round, a Slashing Flourish deals the extra damage to nearby creatures as well, and the Mobile Flourish pushes the creature away, and you can use your reaction to follow them.

You get Expertise in Performance and Deception, doubling your proficiency bonus in those checks. You also learn the second level spell Heat Metal. Real fire? In a fire-themed character build? Wild!

8. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity for higher AC and better attacks. You can also use Minor Illusion for those times you want a fire skeleton, but you can’t waste a spell slot. If you want another second level spell, use Pyrotechnics to make, well, pyrotechnics. You can put out a small area of existing fire, and/or you can create Fireworks or Smoke from that area. The former forces a constitution save (DC 8 + Proficiency + charisma mod) on nearby creatures or they’re blinded for a round, and the latter creates a smoke cloud that creates a heavily obscured area for up to a minute.

9. Monk 3: Now that we’ve got a good lineup of music set to go, let’s finally get the skeleton. As a Four Elements monk, you’re a Disciple of the Elements, giving you two Elemental Disciplines. Elemental Attunement is mandatory, and it gives you several small effects, including the ability to create small fires as an action. More importantly, you can spend a ki point to turn your arms into Fangs of the Fire Snake, making your unarmed attacks deal fire damage for the turn, and your reach increases by 10′ for the turn. On top of that, you can spend even more ki points to deal more damage with each hit. They don’t specify the attacks are coming from a giant skeleton, but I’m pretty sure that’s an oversight.

You can also use your reaction to Deflect Missiles and reduce incoming damage from arrows. If you reduce it to zero, you can throw it back. Yeah, it’s okay. I’m still thinking about the fire skeleton though.

10. Monk 4: The ASIs are coming hard and heavy right now, so bump up your Dexterity for better armor and attacks. You also get to Slow Fall as a reaction, so jumping out a building isn’t quite as stupid an idea for you.

11. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack for more punches each action. That means you’ve got two in a normal turn, three with martial arts, four with flurry of blows, and six with an Action surge. You also get to turn those punches into Stunning Strikes, forcing a constitution save on the target to avoid getting stunned for a round. That save’s based on your wisdom though, so don’t expect miracles.

12. Bard 5: Bouncing back to bard real quick makes your Bardic Inspiration stronger, turning all those dice into d8s. That buffs your flourish power, and your party support. As a bonus, you become a Font of Inspiration, so those dice recharge on short rests too!

Really this is just a banner level for you, since with third level spells you can also grab Major Image to create a really big skeleton that actually feels hot!

13. Bard 6: Sixth level bards get pretty much nothing, ‘cause your extra attack doesn’t stack. You also get a Countercharm, I guess. Spend your action to give advantage to allies dealing with Fear and Charm effects.

If you want to do that and still be useful, spend a minute to give your allies a Motivational Speech -er, concert- to give them temporary HP and advantage on wisdom saves. If they’re hit by an attack, they also get advantage on their next attack too. The spell ends for everyone after an hour, or for a creature after their temporary HP is destroyed.

14. Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Hallucinatory Terrain. I know nobuserker won’t get the ability to set fields on fire for a while, but futureproofing is a good habit to get into.

15. Monk 6: Hopping back over to monk real quick for some Ki-Empowered Strikes, making your fists magical for overcoming resistance. You also get one more Elemental Discipline, and Sweeping Cinder Strike gives you Burning Hands for the low low cost of 2 ki points per cast. You can also spend an extra ki point to upcharge it, but honestly that’s more trouble than it’s worth.

16. Bard 8: Another ASI! Use this one to power up your Charisma for stronger heals, stronger spells, and more inspiration. You can also cast Phantasmal Killer so Skelly can go kill people on his own.

17. Bard 9: Your Song of Rest grows to a d8 as well, for sicker riffs while you’re jamming. You can also Animate Objects, so now you can really put the “chain” back in your chainsaw and go scooting around.

18. Bard 10: Your Bardic Inspiration grows one last time to a d10, and you get Magical Secrets, two spells from any class. (You also get a cantrip, so.. True Strike, why not.)

You also learn the spell Find Greater Steed so you can ride in style in your own customizable rocket. I’d recommend a Griffon, but anything with a flying speed is good. You also get Haste to make that griffon more rocket-y, doubling a target creature’s speed, giving it an extra action, advantage on dex saves and checks, and it’s AC goes up by 2. You’ll have to let the engines cool afterwards though, it’ll have to take a turn off once the spell ends. Also, make sure you keep that thing low to the ground, unless you want to get pancaked by Ishtar.

Also, more Expertise. Perfect your atsumori with Acrobatics and your cool poses with Intimidation.

19. Monk 7: It took a while to get here, but you finally get Evasion! Now your dexterity saves are super good, with failures only dealing half damage and successes avoiding all damage! You also get a Stillness of Mind that lets you end charming and frightening effects on yourself. Madness enhancement is one hell of a drug.

20. Monk 8: Your capstone level is one last ASI, and if you made it this far you deserve a pat on the back. And also the Tough feat for 40 extra HP.

Pros:

With support from your fighting techniques and bard spells plus damage from your monk stuff, you’ve got a lot of variety, so you can fill out any niche your party doesn’t have covered.

Being a mobile monk means you’re fast as hell and hard to retaliate against, making you perfect at hit and run tactics. Use that action surge for a burst of activity, then run off before anyone knows what happened.

Despite being a berserker you have a lot of support options and can fit a lot of roles, from preventing status effects with countercharm & motivational speech to healing with cure wounds to weakening enemies with vicious mockery, bane, and distracting strikes.

Cons:

A less generous person might say this build is too Cluttered. You’ve got inspiration and martial arts fighting for your bonus action, and while you can do many things, there are more dedicated builds that do them better.

This is in part due to limited resources for your best abilities, mostly tied to short rests. With limited action surges, distracting strikes, flourishes, and fire snake fangs, you’ve got a short fuse, and it’ll take work to make sure you don’t burn out before the fighting’s over.

Your ability scores are similarly spread out in all directions, with your wisdom being the big loser. This means that if you can’t outrun someone you’ll be an easy target with an AC of only 15, and your monk abilities like Sweeping Cinder Strike and Stunning Strike aren’t nearly as useful as they should be.

#Fate Grand Order #FGO #DND #D&D 5e #Oda Nobunaga #Monk #Fighter #Bard

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

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𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 11]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 3.6k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: part 11!! whew- i think its almost halfway? im sorry if the series is taking too long ;^; but thank you to those as well to whoever enjoys this so far! i really appreciate it! <3

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u @taetae123094 @jeonartemis @barcelona-sergei @theoinkypiglet @sparklychangbin @krystal-cole @mangotexts @tooweirdforyou

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The skies today were as blue as the crystal seas as fluffy white clouds filled the heavenly bodies. The sun peeks over The Capitol, basking the townsfolk in its bright but warm rays. The city village teemed with life as people went about their business.

Today was actually a good day. But not for the delegates- today was the day of elimination.

The small dining hall the young delegates ate in was quiet. No one said a word, if they did it was done in tones no louder than a whisper. Only the ear-piercing sound of utensils scraping against the ceramic plate was heard along with the occasional clinking of mugs against the wooden table.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Each one of these young people felt as if they were Atlas, bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders. No one and nothing could ease them of the uncertainty on whether who gets to stay or not. Even the cockiest person among you was quiet.

You on the other hand felt as if the weight was doubled. You didn’t know how you would be questioned regarding the chapter you had painstakingly read. You had wasted so many nights and lost so much sleep over that you could only hope you didn’t fail whatever task Hae-seong had in mind.

Breakfast passed by quickly and you soon found yourself lined up by the courtyard. Haeseong stood in front of you as Byron, and a few other knights, stood by the duke’s left. A rack of training swords was soon rolled in, the inanimate object seemingly taunting you. You knew the final exam was about to take place.

“Delegates,” Haeseong called out in his annoyingly nasal voice. “Today is the day of elimination. We’ve reviewed your grades from training and academics and unfortunately, half of you are going home.”

A few gasps erupt from around you. You could feel your palms sweat with anxiousness and the fabric of the uniform seemed to itch more. You tighten your hands into a fist, silently praying that you’d pass this first set of eliminations.

“This just proves how incompetent you people are.” Haesong continued to earn a disappointed sigh from the large man beside him.

“Nevertheless, it didn’t mean you didn’t try your best,” Byron interjected and sent a tiny glare to the duke who brushed it off nonchalantly. “Anyway, as your final exam- you’d be partnered off randomly to duel with the training swords.

“And for safety precautions, we shall be putting each of you in light armor.”

You tense at that. Though you weren’t helpless when it came to swordsmanship- you weren’t sure if you were good enough either. Nevertheless, you just hoped you’d make it far. You glance to your right to see Siyeon’s lip quivering with nervousness. Your fingers discreetly tangled with hers, receiving a grateful squeeze of your hand in return. You send her a small smile to encourage her. Although she was still tense, she had relaxed a bit and had steadier breathing.

As you were all being suited up for the exam, a few of the royal court had come to watch. Among them were two of Hae-seong’s sons- the eldest who was a couple of years older than you and his youngest son who was only eighteen. You’ve seen them around the castle a few times. The younger, Minjae, was a bit spoiled but respectful nonetheless. He could be a little boisterous but you chalked that off to his teenage hormones.

The eldest, on the other hand, Beom-seok, was just as nasty as his father or not worse. Not only was he prideful or an elitist, oh no- he had no respect in general. He would eye some of the female delegates like they were pieces of meat and pick on the castle servants when he walked around. What was worse is that whenever no higher-ups in the court were around, he’d strut along the palace as if he owned the place. He was disgusting but not many seemed to care because of his charming looks and stature in life. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose, and fierce eyes. But his aura was just so repulsive not many really stayed friends with him.

You saw him whisper to his brother as he glanced over at all of you. The pair snickered but the younger seemed to do so just to get his brother to shut up. Beom-seok must have been spewing some hateful stuff again so you chose to ignore him. Instead, you glance up the large window of the palace in the middle of the courtyard, hoping to see the prince.

Seonghwa managed to plague your thoughts often ever since he had met you. He was just so different than you imagined- you didn’t think you’d grow fond of him in the way you do with your friends. You hoped that you do succeed in becoming his bodyguard because that way, you could still maintain your friendship with him.

As your gaze lands on the window, you see the prince looking down at all of you with interest. But beside him was Lady Ayeong, looking as ethereal as ever. A gentle yet curious smile was settled on her delicate lips as she surveyed over all of you. You found it hard to believe that an angel like her was the daughter of the devil.

Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours and he sends you a subtle wink. You roll your eyes in amusement but nodded your head at him before focusing your attention on the knight in front of you to start donning the armor for the final exams.

“Is it really this serious that light armor is needed?” Ayeong asks Seonghwa, looking up at him with a concerned glint in her eye.

The prince merely nodded but gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Don’t worry. No one gets seriously injured during these. It may hurt but nothing that could kill.”

Once you were all settled with the armor and the weapons, you were all ushered to the side as Byron called out two people’s names to duel. One was Julian- a city dweller with a flamboyant personality. His bouncy auburn hair glinted under the afternoon sun as he strolled up to the middle. His confidence was outstanding, it was his biggest asset. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be his biggest downfall either.

The other was Gahyeon. You and Siyeon, as well as other folks from Trelark, sent her silent cheers. You all watched as both delegates took their positions across each other, arms raised and weapons held firmly in their hands.

This was it.

Everyone watched earnestly as Gahyeon struck first, clashing her sword against Julian’s. The sound of wood on wood was heard throughout the courtyard. Several cries rang out and the nasty sound of splinters cracking soon joined in.

By the end of the first duel, Gahyeon ended up with her back flat against the cobble and the wooden sword pressed to her chin. Julian was panting heavily and looked like he could collapse at any moment. Gahyeon proved that if she was going down, she was going to do so with a fight.

Hae-seong says nothing, just dismissing the two and making them return to their spots in the line. “Julian wills the duel!” Byron announces before calling up the next two.

Several more pairs came up. Some of the cockiest delegates had karma coming and lost the duel. Others surprised you like the quiet girl, Ursula, from the farming village in the South. She generally kept out of everyone’s business and was shorter than the average woman your age but she was quick on her feet and managed to take down her much bigger opponent pretty quickly.

You were still marveling over Ursula’s assassin-like skill when Byron called your name. You snap out of your thoughts and head over to the middle where your opponent was already waiting. It was one of the bigger boys from the mining villages. You gulp nervously as you take your training sword from Byron and face your partner.

You could feel your palms clam up and your heartbeat rapidly against your chest. The two of you assumed duel stances, swords in hand, waiting patiently for the signal to start. By this time, more of the royal court had come out to watch. You saw two young men that often accompanied Seonghwa stand off to the side. Maybe they were his friends but their presence just added some pressure to you.

You inhale deeply and let out a shaky sigh right before Byron gives the signal. You make the first move, dispelling all your nerves with a short yell and bringing down your sword against your opponent’s. You managed to catch him off guard as he stumbled with his weapon, clearly not anticipating your strength.

And for a short moment, you felt a bout of victory— that was until he pulled back his sword and swung at you. You stepped off to the side and blocked his blow, the force of the impact shot up your arms and to your shoulders. It was a rather harsh one, leaving you to grit your teeth to keep them from chattering.

You step back when he swings at you again and you retaliate by blocking it off and swiftly following up with a slash near his middle. He narrowly avoids your move, hopping backward to do so. Your movements came right after the other, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You could practically hear your heartbeat thrum in your ears. Dust kicks up around you as you advance towards him, giving him blow after blow. Your opponent was left to defend rather than attack, his bigger stature causing himself to slow down at your faster movements.

You felt confident that you’d win this duel. That is until Hae-seong calls out your name and distracts you. Your foot hooks against your ankle as you mean to step forward, causing you to trip. Your opponent takes this moment to swing his sword at your foot, making you fall onto your front. Several gasps were heard around you along with a ferocious cry. You look up to see your opponent actually bring down his sword against you.

Luckily, you manage to roll away in time and the training sword lands against the spot you were on. “Are you crazy??” You exclaim. That blow could’ve killed you. You stumble back onto your feet, now weaponless as your sword had fallen out of your grip when you tripped. Your opponent takes a moment to kick away your sword and advance towards you.

You dodge another swing from him, shifting your feet to help you avoid him. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” You ask Byron and Hae-seong. The former remains silent but there’s a glint of sympathy in his eyes. The nobleman on the other hand simply grinned and shrugged.

“This is part of your test, _____. Remember the book I made you memorize? Well, I decided to quiz you— right now. I want to see how focused you really are.” He sneers. His eldest son laughs at his father’s words, making your blood boil.

You eye your sword that was only a few steps away. Your opponent wasn’t an idiot— he knew what you were trying to do; he was doing everything to keep you from getting it back. But you were determined and stubborn as a mule.

“First question, ______,” Hae-seong calls out as you step to the side and dodge another hit. “Name all seven kingdoms and what each are known for,”

“The Nessa Empire: the kingdom near the sea,” You start out, trying your best to focus on the man in front of you while answering correctly. “Our kingdom of Sarem: the kingdom of the earth; the Kingdom of Velaris..” You continue on with the list and successfully manage to answer his questions.

This goes on— Hae-seong throwing question after question at you while you respond correctly- much to the duke’s annoyance. Of course, you would stumble every now and then, fatigue slowly creeping up on you, but you push through it. And finally, you see an opening.

Your sword lay a couple of steps away and your opponent was far enough for you to reach over and grab it. You briefly glance over to the weapon and keep your gaze trained ahead of you. You patiently wait for Hae-seong to ask you another question, slowly inching towards your sword.

“Final question,” The nobleman huffed, trying to get you to mess up. “Sarem takes pride in our trade in grains and precious stones; true or false?”

You almost answered “true” but you remembered what the prince had said the first night you met.

“Don’t believe everything that book says— especially the part about how our kingdom trade works. It says something about grain or stones but that section is terribly inaccurate.”

You thought it was nasty on Hae-seong’s part to pull that trick out on you but you didn’t pay any attention to that.

“False!” You answered just as your opponent was about to bring his sword down on you. You rushed to pick up your own and swing it up to block his strike. This caught him off guard, allowing you to kick your foot out under him and make him lose balance. He falls flat against his back and you scramble to kick his own weapon away, pointing your sword against his throat.

Byron takes this as a chance to end the duel seeing as both of you were tired. Your turn went longer than anticipated. “_____ wins this duel.” He announces, earning a few applause from the bystanders.

You almost collapse to the ground in relief as victory floods your system. Thank the heavens. You helped your opponent up and gave him a bow of your head to which he responded in kind. You were still pretty banged and up and bruised since he got more hits in but it was all worth it to be able to make it past this final exam and to see the annoyance on Hae-seong’s face.

It was obvious he hoped you would mess up but at least he knew to give credit when it’s due, even if it hurt his pride. He turned his pointy nose up and waved the two of you away to return to your spots and allow other delegates to go. “Moving on—“

You plop down onto your original spot, Siyeon shaking your shoulder excitedly. “You killed it!” She cheers quietly, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m so proud of you, Yellow.”

“Thanks, Wolfie.” You reply, giving her hand a squeeze.

You tear your gaze away from your friend and up to the window to where Seonghwa and Ayeong were watching. From your spot on the ground, it was clear that he had the brightest smile on his face.

“Her fighting spirit is commendable,” Ayeong praises, referring to you. She turns to her husband to be with a curious tilt of her head. “Don’t you think so?”

The prince felt his chest swell his pride, a warm feeling running through his veins. Though you two had met recently, he felt as if he was your friend for his whole life. He couldn’t help but feel proud of what you had achieved today. He nods in response to his companion. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The final dueling exams ended late into the afternoon. It felt exhausting to watch and go through- after all there were 20 pairs that had to go through this. Despite that- tensions were still high as everyone anxiously waited for their results.

Some looked hopeful while others remained dejected. It was clear to some that they were convinced that they would be eliminated; regrets of not trying hard enough during the first few days due to their reluctance flooded their thoughts. Only hushed whispers and silent sobs were heard through the courtyard as everyone let their frustrations out.

Amihan scoots over to you as she clutches her splinted hand to her chest; she had fallen down during her duel causing her wrist to be sprained. Her face had dejection written all over it; it was far from her usually laid back look. Raviv follows behind her like a concerned mother hen, brows furrowed.

“I think I’m going to be sent home,” She admits quietly to your group, eyes glazed over with tears that were threatening to fall. Both you and Siyeon immediately move to comfort her, taking her hands in yours. “I should’ve tried harder,”

“Ami, you did your best. That’s what’s important,” Siyeon says as she comforts the older girl. “You’re such a fierce fighter Amihan. Maybe you’d pass.”

You nod in response as you offer your friend a comforting smile. “Just shout it out to the world and think of it, it's sure to happen.”

Amihan only shrugged in response but thanked both of you nonetheless. She sat back on her heels and sighed, looking down to her palms. “Thank you for comforting me… but think it’s useless either way. I’m injured so I can’t go on with training.”

“Maybe they’ll excuse you,” Raviv interjects and settles a hand over her shoulder. “Please don’t be so down on yourself, Ami..”

Before any of you can say anything more, the duke clears his throat and catches all of your attention. He had a roll of parchment in his hand, most likely containing the list of all delegates who made it past the first half of elimination. Right now, there were fifty of you, twenty females and thirty males. All that could change after tonight.

“I shall now be announcing the delegates who passed.”

Tension rises and a pregnant silence fills the atmosphere. It was absolutely suffocating. You could feel your heart beat erratically against your chest as you laced your fingers with both Siyeon’s and Amihan’s hands. You didn’t want to go home— not when you were this far. The weight of the pendant your father gave you seemed heavy against your chest, a constant reminder of why you were here in the first place.

“Abel,” Hae-seong started listing out. One by one, a name was called followed by a deep sigh of relief. Stifled tears and quiet sobs were soon heard when the duke failed to call their name.

One of those unfortunate ones was Amihan. When Duke Hae-seong continued on with the list, the names now starting with B, your heart fell. You look over to your friend who had a resigned yet accepting look in her eyes. You couldn’t believe it. Your friend was no longer going to be with you.

“Ami..” You mutter quietly, chest heavy with grief. She only smiles at you, cupping your cheek and brushing away a hair that stuck to your face.

I’ll be okay. She whispers to you before doing the same for both Raviv and Siyeon. You felt numb. It was such a short time since you’ve known her but you’ve created a deep bond with her since your stay— it would be hard to see her go.

The names went on and luckily, you, Siyeon, and Raviv was still safe. For a moment your solemn thoughts turned into relief. At least you were safe, you were still in the game. You still had the chance to win this thing.

“That’s all, you are now dismissed. You may return to your rooms. To those who were eliminated, we thank you for trying your best,” Hae-seong drawls out, oddly chipper. Maybe he was just glad that he didn’t have to deal with any more “brats.” “A carriage awaits you tomorrow morning so I suggest you start packing up.”

Usually, the walk to the rooms would be lively and full of playful banter. Now it was just glum and filled with frustrated cries. Whispers of comfort floated through the air as the group parted ways to head to their respective rooms. But before Raviv could part with the rest of you, he walks over to Amihan and gives her a tight embrace. They exchange a few words, only whispered between the two of them, before separating ways.

You and Siyeon were on either side of Amihan’s side as you walked down the hall, trying to make the most of your last moments with her. Your friend had long stopped crying, her tears turning down to sniffles. She was quick to accept her fate.

“Well, at least I got to live in a palace for 2 and a half months.” She jokes in hopes to lighten the mood. “Even though it was a short period of time, I’m glad I was able to make friends with you two…”

She turns to both of you, pulling you to the side to allow others to enter the room without blocking the way. “I’ll miss you both.. better write to me or else I’m coming back here to hunt your asses down.”

She managed to pull some laughs out of you and Siyeon before bringing you into a group hug. It was a bittersweet moment and none of you could stop the tears from falling. It was kind of cathartic to be able to cry after a long while, even if they were grieving their separation from each other. It was Amihan once again who pulled herself together and straightened up.

“I hope one of you wins. And I know one of you will.” She says with such conviction in her voice it was hard to not believe her.

As you help her keep her things for her leave tomorrow, you couldn’t help but allow this moment to fuel something within you. You had another person to fight for, and that’s exactly what you needed. If things were hard now, they were surely going to get harder.

#ateez x reader #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #prince!seonghwa #prince seonghwa #prince park seonghwa #ateez #ateez royalty au #ateez fantasy au #royalty au #fantasy au #regiis #fandomsonrequests #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez imagines

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anarmel · 3 years

Text

i’m on my d&d jatp bullshit and i just wanna write down how i conceptualise characters in one post(sorry)

Julie(starting alignment lawful good)

-is a half aasimar(mother’s side)/half sun-elf(father’s side)

-she is a multiclass of bard(college of benevolence) and paladin of Sun(oath of radiance) (in my world building there is no particular named gods there is just forces of nature, spirit and belief and separate domains of heavens where celestial beings realm. For example Sun is sentient force of life and burning illumination it gives life but only in tandem with other powers of nature, alone it just burns and gradually consumes you in its warmth until you notice you’ve been burned with it. There is no inherently good and bad forces it’s all in blinding shades of neutral morals and ambiguity and it’s people who tip the scales of balance using powers in their reach for their own agendas)

-her preference in weapons is a sturdy versatile sword and a shield. she is a fierce and focused fighter but she will always find time to heal and inspire her allies

-her bard magic comes through her angelic voice that can bring dead back to life. Her magic is sun flavoured bright and enticing.

Flynn (starting alignment chaotic good)

-is an eladrin elf her season changes depending on her mood but most of the time they’re in summer

-they are a wild magic sorcerer(chaos flavour). her magic focus is her own blood, magic flows through them

-was feared for her chaos magic and was not permitted to use it. Flynn kinda didn’t care for that rule and her magic never caused anyone any harm(yet) and was kinda fun. they want excitement in a life of adventure, they want to help in a fight and not be useless. it’s a risk but she isn’t afraid and Julie always by her side so it can’t be that bad

-fights are fun until they’re not. Flynn will support anyone in a tight spot and will not hesitate to throw her chaos bolt at the opponent

Nick (starting alignment neutral good)

-is a firbolg(not a full blood one because his too short but no one knows his lineage)

-he is a multiclass of fighter(arcane archer)and ranger(monster slayer)

-his preferred weapon is a long bow but he always has a long sword on his person. he’s ready for everything. a very tactical and rational fighter. prefers not to fight at all if possible. but if someone he loves is hurt he will put an arrow through a skull with surprising accuracy and precision

Carrie (starting alignment lawful evil)

-believes she is a high elf but something’s off(she is a changeling and doesn’t fully know it because she doesn’t want to know and that will make her not “perfect”)

-she’s an academically trained rogue-assassin

-preferred fighting style quick slash of two poisonous daggers and an instant death of an opponent. in a long fight may shoot darts or to restrain a target will use her whip

Bobby (starting alignment true neutral)

-is half high elf(father’s side)/quarter orc(mother’s side)

-he’s a multiclass of rogue(scout) and barbarian(totem warrior)

-as a child went through the same training as Carrie and when he left home he picked up new skills as he wondered through nature following birds wishing he was as free and independently happy as them and this wish just made him more angry at his situation because he doesn’t know how to achieve what he wants

-dual wields two swords and throws javelins when necessary. will jump into battle to release his pent up anger but his first priority is to protect those around him and feel useful

Luke (starting alignment chaotic good)

-is a satyr

-he’s a multiclass of bard(college of eloquence) and fighter(eldritch knight)

-his parents wanted for him to follow in their footsteps and be a good servant for a forest spirt but he’s an adventurer and a creator at heart and needs to share himself with the world so after an argument with his parents left his home in anger

-in fight he wields his soul bound greataxe-guitar

-loves to fight it’s just another performance where you get to inspire allies and bring good to the world. it’s a competition not just between you and your opponent but also between people on your side to see who does the best Luke always convinced it’s him because he gives a part of himself to his allies through inspiring song and he gets to slash some head off

Reggie (starting alignment neutral good)

-is an asmodeus tiefling which gives him an intimidating look but his a soft marshmallow

-he’s a wizard(school of illusion)

-left his home in search for peace but then he met Luke and got inspired to bring peace to others

-sometimes he feels like he’s underwater and lost and only his friends make him rush to the surface for so much needed air

-an imaginative caster will distract opponents with their fears and desires as his friends deal damage. not an aggressive fighter more of a useful distraction but always has a fireball up his sleeve that he’s timid to use

Alex (starting alignment lawful neutral)

-is a fallen aasimar banished from his home. doesn’t talk about it at all

-he is a cleric(grave domain)

-wields a shield and a quarterstaff. in a fight prefers to deal damage and deal with the problem at hand instead of healing the stupid wounds his friends got in a dumb way.

-his magic is radiant and necrotic flavoured.

Willie (starting alignment chaotic neutral)

-is an air genasi

-they are a multiclass of wild magic sorcerer and warlock(archfey patron)

-never had a stable home or family. always new faces with every new “control” group. it started since their childhood. one of the magic serges caused a tornado that had casualties. Willie didn’t choose this magic but he’s understand what they caused needs control but in “control” groups they are like a lab rat and Willie’s tired and wants to live their life in adrenaline of adventure. they feel like an air in an old hot room where someone desperately needs to open a window and let it out. and after his last magic serge that someone finds him and lifts his curse giving him new power

-doesn’t experience magic surges anymore as a side effect of his pact with Caleb

-in a fight Willie’s unexpected and always has a plan that only they know

-uses magic as well as dynamite sticks(a bit of an arsonist)

-flavour of magic: air, charged air(lighting)

#long post #sorry if there’s mistakes i’m not a native speaker #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp d&d

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chichirichick · 3 years

Text

SoMa Week Day 2: Healing

Hey, again! First off, I want to actually be proud of myself for a second since I'm posting two consecutive entries for @soulxmakaweek! I never expected my brain would actually allow this, but here's Day 2! Read it on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!

I have a scar. Hard not to notice since it's hip to armpit, a line that practically killed me. While maybe some guys would love it for the braggin' rights, I think I'd prefer forgettin' it exists. It healed- so why do I have to give it another thought?

…

Shit.

OK, I know I do. I know there's somethin' there, but I'll be damned if I actually want to scratch anywhere past the surface of it.

I have a scar.

Easy to notice.

Hip to armpit.

Didn't kill me, but…

Maybe it sorta did. Or-- man, do I feel stupid saying this, but-- maybe it killed a part of me. Puttin' the rest of that explanation into words sounds as promisin' as havin' my teeth pulled but… here goes:

Maka Albarn is a giant pain in my ass. Has been from day one and has succeeded in doin' nothin' but improvin' on that skill each day of our partnership. 'Cept… at the same time, she is the only reason I'm alive.

That doesn't make any sense- mostly 'cause the reason for that scar is Maka Albarn needin' my protection, needin' me to take a death blow for her and not hesitatin' to do it.

Well, it makes some sense since she was the one that kept me together after. A guy who practically loses his guts doesn't exactly have the mental or physical oomph to feed, clothe, wash, and all-around take care of himself. Maka did that. Stein may have stitched me up, but eatin', drinkin', sleepin', even showerin' was all thanks to Maka. And, for the first time in our entire lives, none of it came with even a breath of complaint or a look other than somethin' close to pitiful from those green eyes.

So I lived because Maka did the heavy liftin'.

But part of me died because Maka did the heavy liftin'.

See, if you look back at that fourteen-year-old Soul who came to DWMA, my general hope is that you'd see a cool guy, but I know the truth. I wasn't anywhere near cool in my own head. Sure, I had the look-- still do-- but if you cracked me open you'd hear the racket. Even before that annoyin' lil' gremlin, I had voices foggin' up my inner workin's. My mom, my dad, my brother- just to name a few. I hated it. I lived with it every step I took and there didn't seem like a way to escape it.

But she killed it.

Guess I should say somethin' nice like "she healed me with her love," but goddamnit is that ever corny, and I'd rather complete that teeth pullin' I mentioned than have her actually hear those words from my mouth.

'Cause it's really fuckin' hard to hate yourself when you got someone who'll drag your ass into the bath if you can't do it yourself or someone who'll sleep with you every night until the nightmares settle. It's even harder to doubt yourself when they're always there tellin' you that you'll make it through, tellin' you that you're more than enough.

That old Soul died with that slash.

The new Soul… guess he just heals a lil' more every day that I'm he's with her.

Maka barely glanced over the composition before she ticked her eyes to him in annoyance. "What is this?"

"Tol' you- it's that stupid paper Marie wanted us to write about 'where we find our strength,'" Soul tried to deliver that with the same enthusiasm he had for laundry day. "You said you'd proofread mine because, and I quote: 'You always mess up your grammar and you're lazy with your main ideas so you always get the same grade.' And heaven forbid lil' Ms. Perfect's weapon get anything other than-"

"I can already tell you that your structure is terrible." She glanced again at the page, not absorbing the words just the awful penmanship and the truncated lines. "You know what paragraphs are, right?"

Soul rolled his eyes. "Maka, just read it."

She only dared another quick peek before leveling a grimace at him. "And are you serious with all those apostrophes?"

"It's how I talk," Soul offered with a shrug.

Maka released an all-suffering sigh before she centered her glare on the first line of the page.

Soul watched her eyebrows wrinkle.

Her mouth gaped and snapped shut again.

Her eyes flicked only a second's worth of attention to him before hitting the paper again.

He tried to relax, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep himself from drumming unsteady beats on his thighs to echo the ones in his heart.

Pink and then red started to drift to the top of her ears.

"Well?" He was eternally grateful that he managed that with impatience rather than one of those boyish, nervous squeaks that were threatening in this throat.

"Y-you-" she was stammering off the word, her eyes still glued to the paper. "You can't use an expletive in a school essay, Soul!"

He sucked his teeth. "Maka Albarn, that's all you got to say to me?"

She waved the paper at him, less a white flag of defeat and more a banner for her cause. "One- fix the apostrophes. I don't care if it's the way you talk- no one writes like that! Two- take out the curses. They seriously have no place in academic responses. And three-" She heaved a breath as she pulled the paper taut, making it hide her face from him. "Three- if you thought this was romantic, you shouldn't have prefaced it with the idea that first and foremost I'm a pain in the ass!"

"A giant pain in the ass," he corrected.

"Soul!" That was a tumultuous mix of tones from the refusal of defeat to the outright embarrassment of having her feelings written so perfectly yet entirely not eloquently.

"You're ruinin' my paper." He moved towards her, hands coming over hers to relax the strain in the page and uncover her face. "So you said you'd correct my mistakes, right? So correct me if I'm wrong, Maka…" His cool was fizzling as he needed to stop to take a swallow in hopes of easing his voice. "I sorta… I'd sorta like to know if I'm wrong about the love part. Like… do I have to fix it to say partners- friends- or…"

"You have to fix it to say you love me too," Maka snapped bluntly.

In vain he tried to catch the giddy little laugh that escaped his mouth, but there was no snatching it from taking flight. "Guess I did forget the main idea."

Maka's face burned while her fingers crinkled the edges, but a wonderful fluttering was starting in her heart. "But that is the main idea, right?"

"Yeah, sorta the whole point of the essay." He tried to shrug it off but the glow on her cheeks was being amplified by the smile that was starting to break through the worry. "So, uh, I guess I'll fix it. I'll just- I should probably just say it plain, right? That I-" Maybe this was the moment his point was proved, looking down at her, holding her hands in his, killing the last little bit of that scared boy who no longer existed. The real wound finally healed. "I love you, Maka."

#soulxmakaweek #SoMaweek2021 #SoMa #Soul Eater

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

Kill Order (Final Rose)

As the explosion raged against her glyph, Weiss activated Luna’s personal forcefield and all but threw the girl at one of her bodyguards. “Get her behind cover.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The explosion finally began to peter out, and Weiss began to bark orders at the other bodyguards. “Team 1, you’re with me. Team 2, I want you to split, take the buildings on either side. Sweep the rooftops.” She paused as a low, angry growl filled the air. “Zahn...” The wolf glanced at her, and Weiss gave the order. “Kill.”

X X X

What sets Oerban timber wolves apart from most of their lupine kin is not merely their size although they are the largest wolves in the world. Instead, what truly makes them unique is how heavily they make use of Aura during combat. Like chocobos, Oerban timber wolves have learned how to enhance their strength, speed, and durability using Aura.

An adult Oerban timber wolf is more than capable of completely ignoring small arms fire, and more powerful wolves have been known to remain combat capable even after being struck by anti-tank rounds. To maximise their combat effectiveness, the Yun often equip their wolves with collars and bracers that contain personal forcefields and Aura batteries. The objective is to allow the wolf to reach their opponent without sustaining major damage. Once the wolf reaches their target, the result is often largely academic.

X X X

Zahn reached the first White Fang assassin and simply clamped his jaws around the Faunus’s head. The assassin’s Aura flared briefly and then shattered like glass. The wolf’s massive jaws closed with a wet thump, and he tossed the dead man aside as a stream of gunfire raced toward him.

Instincts that had been honed by years of training allowed him to zigzag through the oncoming barrage until he reached his next target. This one drew a sword and swiped at his side. The wolf leapt over the blow and crashed into the rabbit Faunus. The woman screamed as he brought one paw down with punishing force. To her credit, her Aura withstood the first blow, so Zahn twisted, seizing her leg in his jaws, and swung her into a nearby streetlight.

The metal bent beneath the force of the blow, and he shook his head and brought her down onto the pavement. Her Aura broke, and the concrete sidewalk cratered. Blood splattered the ground, and he fought the urge to howl as he bounded toward the group of White Fang firing on the members of his pack.

They saw him coming, and he understood immediately that he would not be able to dodge so many attacks. Instead, he would have to rely on his Aura and the defences his pack leaders had given him. Light flashed around him as those defences and his Aura withstood the onslaught. One of the White Fang gestured sharply, and an explosion threatened to drive him back.

Zahn roared and threw himself forward through the cloud of fire and force. He slammed into the closest assassin, and his sheer mass sent the man tumbling back. Rising to his feet, Zahn rammed another Faunus into a car, crumpling the vehicle and crushing the woman against it. A swipe of his paws sent a male Faunus tumbling through the air before he lunged at the one with the most Aura.

Another explosion bloomed to life against him, and Zahn felt the bracer on his rear left leg crack. That wasn’t good, but he still had three others and his collar. More importantly, he had managed to reach his opponent. With a blur of movement, the Faunus drew a spear and stabbed at his side. Zahn dodged as best he could, and the blow skittered off his flank. His teeth closed around the man’s wrist, and he tried to bite down. His opponent’s Aura resisted the attack, so he turned it into a throw, heaving him into the wall of the building beside them.

“You damn monster!” the Faunus drew a knife with his other hand and drove it toward Zahn’s face.

The wolf let go of the man’s wrist and jerked his head back before lowering his shoulder and driving it into his chest. The corner of the building broke off, and the pair of them rolled across the road. Zahn was on his feet first, and he struck with brutal force. He seized the Faunus’s left ankle in his mouth and used it to slam him into one of the trees that lined the sidewalk. Wood cracked, and Zahn bit down harder. Still, the White Fang member’s Aura refused to break. A desperate slash of the knife clattered against Zahn’s defences, and the wolf swung his head back around and smashed his opponent back into the ruins of the tree. Finally, his Aura broke, and Zahn darted forward.

“Get away from -”

CRUNCH.

Zahn tore off his head and most of his torso with one bit and then turned to scan the rooftops. One of his pack leaders was leading an assault further down the street. There was no need to go to her side. She was well protected. Instead, he would do what he did best. He would hunt. Movement from a nearby rooftop draw his eyes, and Zahn broke into a speedy lope.

X X X

Granite had worked for Weiss Schnee for the better part of five years. He’d been forced into battle several times while serving her, but this was by far the largest conflict he’d been involved in. In a way, he wasn’t surprised. With her wife away on a critical mission, Weiss was far more vulnerable. If Ruby had been here, it was entirely possible that all of their assailants would already be dead. Teleportation and ultra-high-speed movement were absolutely unfair sometimes.

Of course, that was what he and the others were for. Weiss packed more firepower than entire teams of hunters, but she was relatively fragile compared to her teammates. If she got hit - and that was a big if given her defensive glyphs - she wouldn’t be able to simply shrug it off the way someone like Yang Xiao Long could. But as long as he and the other bodyguards could protect her, Weiss was essentially living artillery.

Case in point: the majority of the White Fang’s forces further down the street were currently being bombarded by bolts of super-heated ash travelling at rail-gun-like speeds. Upon impact those bolts would not only inflict hideous damage due to their speed but they would also explode, completely enveloping their target in ash that had been heated to thousands of degrees.

The only thing he and his team needed to do was keep the rooftops clear. A sniper was one of the only threats that stood a chance of getting Weiss, and they’d already eliminated several as they swept the rooftops. Once this was all over, there would definitely have to be an investigation. The White Fang had been all but destroyed for years. How had they managed to gather the resources for an attack of this magnitude?

However, his thoughts were soon interrupted as something burst out of a nearby roof. Well, crap. That was a war mech, a salvaged and heavily modified Atlas model by the looks of it.

“Take it down!” Granite shouted. “Don’t let it fire!”

It was impossible to be completely sure of its load out, but the mech had several missile pods and what appeared to be a heavy plasma cannon on one arm.

“Take out the plasma cannon!” Granite pointed. “Aim for the plasma cannon!”

Missiles filled the air, and he and the others were forced to take cover. He peeked around the corner in time to see the plasma cannon beginning to charge.

“Damn it.” He raised his rifle and fired, but the bullets simply bounced off the mech’s forcefield. However, he must have done some damage because there was a sound like breaking glass as Zahn crashed through the forcefield and bit down on the cannon hard. “Watch the wolf,” he barked.

Swinging back and forth, Zahn managed to brace his feet against the mech’s chassis. With a savage jerk of his head, he ripped the front half of the plasma cannon apart. The weapon shrieked and began spewing plasma everywhere. The wolf leapt clear, and Granite gestured wildly.

“Bring it down! Bring it down!”

One of the other bodyguards picked up a piece of rubble and threw it. The other man’s Semblance turned the projectile into a makeshift grenade, and it exploded against the mech’s side. The machine lumbered and then toppled off the rooftop.

“Don’t let up!” Granite pointed. “Target the cockpit!”

X X X

Weiss took a moment to scan the street for any further danger. Good. The White Fang had been dealt with. Even so, she asked for a full sweep of the area before moving to where Luna had thankfully been kept safe. At her side, Zahn walked proudly. The wolf had proven his worth yet again, and nothing made him happier than doing his bit for his pack.

“Good boy.” Weiss reached over to scratch him behind his ears. “Good boy.” She noticed the blood staining his jaws and muzzle and paused. Hmm... she should probably clean him off a little before they met with Luna.

X X X

Author’s Notes

It’s easy for people to forget because he’s so friendly and easy-going, but Zahn is more than six hundred pounds of lupine death that has been carefully honed over generations of selective breeding with years of training to hone his instincts. Backed up by technology, an adult Oerban timber wolf is extremely dangerous. That said, those same things that make him dangerous make him perfectly safe around Luna. The idea of actually harming her goes against all of his instincts and training. What makes wolves like Zahn even more dangerous is that they are also trained to work together if necessary. Together with their handlers, packs of Oerban timber wolves can and have brought down even S Tier Grimm.

The best bit is that after this, Zahn will probably spend his night being used as a teddy bear by Luna. Since she was kept safe behind cover during the whole fight, she wasn’t scared for herself so much as she was scared that something might happen to Weiss, Zahn, or the bodyguards, many of whom she has come to think of as friends since she’s known them for as long as she can remember.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #fanfiction #weiss schnee #zahn

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cerezawrites · 3 years

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Prompt 2: Aberrant

“It is preposterous! Unnatural, even!” the drab-clad Elezen spat, his face turning red. “That any power of darkness should bring good in this world - hardly an idea worth considering. The Fury damn those who would turn to evil means!”

“Calm down, Mattheiu” another Elezen, a woman of the High Houses by her bustle. “We’ve known that the Exorcists have worked with unusual magicks. Is it so hard to believe that there COULDN’T have been a relationship between them? It would have predated the Church and all...”

The two stood in the corner of a large hall, at the moment host to a massive party, such that even this outburst wouldn’t go noticed. Cereza stood, ostensibly admiring a painting of one of the owner’s great-great-great-ad infinitum ancestors with a flute of sparkling cider in one gloved hand, but her attention was on the debate that had unfolded.

The opening of Ishgard had many impacts upon the city, and the histories of magic, and their connections to lost civilizations in a past age, had caused a small but notable stir amongst the academics who understood the principles. Such things weren’t major debates in other lands - there, the debates were more focused on the use of specific branches, rather than the overall origin - but here, yet another belief was being upturned.

“The origins of the Exorcists’ magic is simple - it is the elements that surround us, granted by the Fury and the other gods. No ancient black wizardry had a hand in inspiring that holy art. It is an instrument of faith, nothing more.”

And there was the opening.

“If that is truly the case, why then did the Heretics have the same powers? Why was Ars Almandel and its twin, Ars Notoria, almost condemned as a heretical text, if the magic it grants was not of the faith?” THAT got the man’s attention, but Cereza stood, back to him, still studying the vaunted elder’s painting.

“How dare you compare our arts to that of heretics!” She could see his face turning redder still.

“I’m not,” she said, finally glancing over her shoulder. “I’m asking a fundamental question of faith - from whence does evil come? Only in this case, it’s a question more of, from whence does YOUR form of evil derive its power? Certainly they could develop it from accursed sources, but if that were the case, why are the spells so similar?” She finally turned and faced him. “And moreover, if it were the case, why then does the Church have to train Inquisitors, if their faith would provide the power?”

The crowd was starting to pay attention, but the man Cereza faced had eyes only for her, and not in a good way. The other Elezen, the woman in the bustle, did find her point worth pouncing on. “That is a good point… Natural magic is rare here in Ishgard, and only the priests and inquisitors and their ilk do wield it regularly. Chirugeons also can get it through study… but you never just see the truly faithful summon fire or mend grievous wounds.”

Cereza nodded. “Beyond which, Ishgard’s once and once again allies use similar arts, and yet no accusation of heresy or witchcraft is levied against them - at least not in general, barring occasional foreign victims of the overzealous Inquisition. Why, did Thordan the III not even commend a young magus some centuries back, making him an honorary knight of the realm?”

“That’s enough, both of you!” the man shouted. “The magicks of the church are holy blessings. Your.. thaumaturgy and arcanamia are all hollow imitations of Fury-granted grace! And were you Ishgardian, I’d challenge you to a duel!”

Ah, about time. Cereza motioned over a servant, and asked the girl to hold her drink, as she strutted up to the red-faced man, tugging off her right glove. “Well, well… If you are so eager…let’s not let my nationality limit us. Duelling is common in other parts of Eorzea after all. Ergo… I challenge YOU.” With that, she slapped the red faced Elezen with her glove, and the crowd was silent. For his part, Matthieu was shocked, but then his anger returned. “Very well, then!” He strode off, and had servants bring a blade and shield. When he returned, he said, “Well then! What weapon do you choose?”

Cereza smiled as she replaced her glove and tapped the ground with her cane before throwing it into the air in a spiral. She caught it and held it out like a sword - and in fact, it WAS, or perhaps had become, a sword, a dueling rapier to be exact. She held it out in front of her, her left hand held behind her. “I think my old reliable will work here. A weapon of another time and place.” The blade was intricately crafted in a near-Eastern style. “But, one far more suited to this duel than you might think. First blood then? Or best of some arbitrary number?”

The man scoffed. “Such a small blade, and you dare think you’d get even one hit, let alone three of five? Besides, for your heresy, it should be death, but I’ll take yielding.”

Cereza nodded her head with a smile. “Oh good… some fun for once. Well then, en guard!”

The floor had cleared, and the two circled it weapons poised. Mattheiu struck towards her first, shield over his chest to limit the exposure of his thrust, and Cereza had to dodge to the side, swinging wildly and hitting only air. He repeated the trick, and she dodged again -b ut it was closer this time. And again, and this time he managed to knick her hand. “Ha, a hit!” He exclaimed. He didn’t raise his arms to gloat, though, remembering the terms… but that wasn’t the opening she was looking for anyways.

“Well then, I suppose I can’t afford to be sloppy anymore,” she said, as she focused on the blood on his blade. She removed one glove and replaced with a black one, then cupped the end of her sword. Her blade’s “pommel” separated, a gem glittering red, floating in her hand. Mana flowed from the accelerator focus into the blade, and she kept her attention on that blood as she leapt forth, the magic guiding her. The sudden leap pushed him back this time, and she made a stroke at him as he flailed, then another two slashes, and three more to finish it off. Mattheiu fell back on the ground, his jacket ruined, and shouted, “I yield! I yield!” before scrambling to get up and leave the party. Cereza smiled and dismissed the blade, replacing it with her cane once more.

The host, a member of House Hallienarte, came and bowed to her, as did the Elezen woman. “My apologies for that,” the host said. “Our guests should not have their honor questioned in this place of peace.”

Cereza shook her head as she took her drink back from the servant who held it. “Think nothing of it, Baron. Your guest had too much to drink and was too forthcoming with his unsavory opinions. I merely dealt with an insult in the way we should. Thank you again for the invitation, however.” She curtsied. “I didn’t realize I had left such an impression on my last visit.”

“The honor is mine,” the baron said with a bow. “You’ve aided our house in many endeavors. Recovering my cousin’s heirloom left a special impression, and she insisted I invite you.”

“Well, I much appreciate it.” She curtsied again, and the Baron left her alone with the woman. “And you, mademoiselle. I heard you debating our unfortunate acquaintance earlier. I hope the duel hasn’t put a damper on your evening.”

“Oh, perish the thought. It was time he got thrashed for that. But tell me, your sword… that wasn’t just swordplay, was it? There was...something else at work.”

“Indeed. A blend of magicks, and a bit of preparation, helped to enhance the blade. Combined with a small homing spell to track my blood and guide my leap forward, and it proved quite invaluable. Alas, I think I spent the reserve mana in the blade’s accelerator for now.” She shook her head. “Ah… but my manners. Lady Cereza Hoid, at your service.”

The elezen offered her hand and curtsied, and Cereza took it and brought her forehead to it. “Lady Maricelle Dzemael. A pleasure to meet you.”

The two spoke for a bit, before a server came and handed Maricelle a letter, offering a chamber for her to read it in. There was something odd about the servant… but Cereza simply waited until Maricelle returned, sighing.. “Ah… It seems that Mattheiu has left for the evening and refuses to return… and he was my escort.” She turned to Cereza. “I hate to impose… but it is getting late. Would you be able to walk back with me? I trust the streets of Foundation, but…”

Cereza smiled. “Of course. I was actually heading that way myself.” She finished her drink - the only one she’d had all night, and bid farewell to the host and a few others, before returning to Maricelle’s side. “Please, unto the night.”

The two strode out, and Maricelle said, “There is a shortcut back this way… come, follow.” Cereza didn’t get a chance to protest before her charge fled down the darkened alleyway.

“Well, so much for both worry and trusting the streets,” she muttered under her breath as she went in behind. The alley was dark, only lights from the few house windows to illuminate the way, and the aether seemed to stir oddly.

She caught a glimpse of Maricelle’s dress, and followed, only to keep a few steps behind each time. The dress led down a maze of alleys, definitely not a shortcut. “Maricelle?” Cereza called into the night.

She heard the other lady call out, “This way, Cereza…” But something in her voice was… wrong. Cereza drew out her blade again, and approached more cautiously.

Around the corner, she saw a terrible sight. Maricelle floated inside a cloud, under the control of the servant who’d handed her the letter. Damn, she thought, should have kept my eyes on him.

“Ahahaha… easy enough to lure you in… a pity how simple it was, really. But when I realized who you were… I couldn’t have you running around ruining my plans.”

“A compulsion, then,” she said. “Have the girl misunderstand the way home… probably a spell trapped in the letter.” “Indeed,” the “servant” said. “You were always a sucker for a pretty face and a damsel in distress. You gave me the perfect opening… baiting her cousin into that duel. But you can’t harm her now.”

Cereza looked at her, trapped and unconscious in the miasma. He looked at the girl and… smiled. And the cloud - an extension of the Voidsent in the servant, seemed to shimmer nervously. Didn’t know they could do that, she thought.

“You think it was coincidence I was here, Achtrasi?” she said, calling it by one of its names - not its true name. Not yet. “I knew you’d made it into the city… tracking down the relic was easy enough. The servant opened it instead of the Baron, though, so you had to make do. I knew one way or another you’d be at that party… and you’d use the girl as bait. You always liked hostages… ones that would inspire chivalry in your hunter.”

The cloud rumbled. “Well well… clever. But it doesn’t matter. You already used up your mana… what do you have that would help you save her without that?”

Cereza’s smile widened. “I DID say it was empty, didn’t I? I could channel through it, but you wouldn’t give me that kind of time… but see, there’s a trick I’ve learned. It IS empty… Well… except for one or two little spells I managed to catch...”

The creature’s cloud seemed to shimmer in uncertainty. “Wha- What? What the-”

It didn’t finish its curse, as a pillar of white aether hit the cloud square on, not harming the girl inside but dissipating the trap she was in and letting her fall to the ground. The servant stepped back and tried to run… until a ball of red light came immediately after, driving it into the wall.

The servant stood up, but it was no longer truly that form. Its true form bled through the body, broke through it, shedding the corpse and revealing a giant warrior, made of shadow and smoke, with two knives in its claws.

Cereza regarded it, and put her sword away. She instead reached into the aether once more and summoned out a tome, a blue-covered grimoire with gold embellishments.

The scream intensified, and Cereza smiled. “Ah, you recognize this grimoire, don’t you? I’m not part of the church, admittedly… but that’s not a requirement. The girl is right - the magic isn’t a gift of faith. But credit where it’s due… they do have their exorcisms down pat” She flipped it open to a page she’d bookmarked, and recited the spell within. The words were prayers to the Fury, but though they were somewhat slanted to an Ishgardian interpretation, that wouldn’t make them any weaker - it wasn’t like summoning a Primal, where faith became aether to be channeled through prayer. The spell was quite more the opposite in effect, really.

“O Fury, Halone in the Heavens above, hear this call and bind this child of the Void, Achtrasi!”

The voidsent charged her, but as its blades came down to cleave her, chains of ice held them - and its body - leaving it paralyzed in place. The words shaped her aether through the circles, and resonated with a spell of banishment. “In the name of the Fury,” she called, careful not to shout lest she awaken anyone, “I command thee, demon. Descend into the Seven Hells, and be banished from this land. Hurt her children no more. By her spear!”

An aetherial lance drove into the head of the beast and through its torso, and it vanished into smoke, the dark energies that made up its power vanishing. Cereza closed the book and banished it back into the aether - no sense getting caught with it BY one of the Inquisitors. She could play the part of exorcist, but she wasn’t a part of the order, and being caught with that tome could spell trouble even now. Instead, she drew her sword again, and went to the girl, channeling the white mana to cure her and help her recover.

Maricelle opened her eyes. “I… what… what was that?” she stammered as she regained consciousness. “I remember… you… and a party… and then….

Cereza closed her eyes in relief. “Voidsent,” she said when she opened them again. “Demon. Possessed that poor servant… and decided to use you as bait for me.”

Maricelle shook her head. “The… the dark magics? Was my defense… unjust?”

“Hardly. Damned thing was summoned back in the Fifth era. Your trust in the truth is valid.. This was just an evil spirit, not some divine punishment. And.. possibly my fault. It knew to use you as bait… I just knew it would, and planned accordingly. But even so…”

Maricelle stopped her before she could continue her apology, then sobbed and clung to Cereza. Cereza held her, a bit awkwardly, but understandingly, knowing the fear from such things. “You kept me safe… that’s all that matters.” She eventually calmed down, and sniffled. “Just… get me home. Please?”

Cereza smiled and nodded. “Of course. But… I think this way, this time,” she said.

#ffxivwrites #FFxivwrite #FFxivWrite2021 #ffxiv

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nessietessimal · 4 years

Text

Mały świat (Small World)

Whilst out on a job for the Botanist, The Marksman has a rough night, the Soldier makes a connection and the Stranger is just along for the ride.

(I couldn’t think of how to draw this once I had the idea, so I jotted it down instead - Inspired by @theramblinganalyst and @diamondclaw21‘s fics! Be prepared for a longish drabble full of typos and mediocre writing under the cut)

The Marksman sighed quietly, resting against the wall of the cabin they'd found to hole up in for the night. The Soldier, Stranger and himself had been out in the deep woods for the last couple days trying to find a few things for the Botanist, the latter having needed some particular samples for their latest study.

"I know it's a bit of a big if," The academic had begun one morning whilst the Marksman was visiting, sitting with the other after dropping off an old book he thought the man might've liked, "But would you be able to collect some samples of the local flora around the area you first remember being infected? Theoretically, if one were to ask." The Marksman blinked, pausing in reassembling his cleaned rifle to look up and stare at them. "I realise it may not be pleasant for you to return to such a place, if you can recall it." The Botanist sheepishly added after a short moment, "It's just some base specimens to compare my findings to, regarding your sample, would be highly beneficial." They glanced away, scratching their jaw underneath their helmet. "I feel like I'm so close to figuring out something big, is all." The Marksman regarded them for a minute, then asked, 'Figuring out what?' The Botanist watched his hands, then shrugged. "I'm not… entirely certain," They admitted, "But my experiments have had curious results, especially regarding separating the specimen from its host, and the reduction of spread." The Marksman leaned forward, drawing the Botanist' s attention. 'Reduction of spread?' He repeated, then gestured to himself. 'Is it possible to slow it on me?' The Botanist nodded slowly, fingers tapping as they thought. "Oh, most probably." They answered, "I'd have to compare your sample to a base one, see what slows it, and figure out a way to apply it to yourself, but I'm sure it's possible." The Marksman gave a small nod, then clicked his rifle back together and got to his feet. 'I'll see if the good Soldier and Stranger will help me search,' He signed, then put a hand on the other's shoulder. 'I can't promise anything,' The rifleman admitted, 'But I'll try.' The Botanist's posture brightened, and they patted the other's hand. "That's all I can ask for, my friend! Thank you, and stay safe."

They'd set out into the deep woods a few days later, and now sat in front of a small fire, hesitant to light anything bigger for the noise, and having to check the old generator every hour to make sure it wasn't going to suddenly stop working. The Soldier and Marksman had taken the first watch, the Stranger falling into a fitful sleep and resting the arm that had taken the brunt of a Savage's attack earlier that day. The two on watch had taken it in turns going back and forth between the campfire and the generator at the back of the cabin, the Soldier talking quietly and the Marksman signing in smaller movements to avoid attracting any attention from outside. A few dogs had tried to get in, but the sound of muted clangs told them the Stranger's bear traps had taken care of them, and their watch went as smooth as it could, bar the odd growl or scratching from beyond the barred windows. Now, the Stranger and Soldier sat at the fire, the latter reassuring the Marksman he was fine for another couple hours til the last shift, and the hunter had taken the Stranger's spot against the wall, nestled between the corner of the cabin and the broken stove. The man rested his rifle across his lap, positioned so he could aim at the door should he have to, and closed his eyes, willing the soft crackle of the fire, deep mumbles of the Soldier and occasional hum from the Stranger lull him to sleep.

It had only felt like an hour or so of rest when the soft crunch of leaves underfoot had him snapping his eyes open and spinning round with his rifle in hand, lifted and ready to shoot at the woman attempting to sneak up behind him. "Bang." He deadpanned, causing the woman to smirk and lift her hands. "Ah, you got me." She sighed, straightening and walking over. "I wasn't sure if you were napping." The Marksman shook his head, dropping his rifle back into his lap as the woman sat beside him on the watchtower ledge. "No, just resting my eyes." He glanced around, then looked back to the woman. "What brings you out here? I thought you were in a command briefing." "I was," She hummed, "But I heard all I needed to." She leaned back on her hands, eyes scanning the woodland around them. "They're sending you out." The Marksman blinked, straightening from the post he was leaning against. "Into the Darkwood?" The woman nodded, gaze focused ahead of her. "You'll be briefed on it tomorrow, and sent in by the end of the week. The science folk were yapping on about some critical mass or something, and we lost contact with our last patrol this morning, so." A quiet fell over them, the Marksman watching the woman refuse to meet his eye for a moment before sighing softly. "It'll be fine," He reassured quietly, "I'll have my team with me, and you know how Kaen is - the oaf can be more protective than a mother hen." The younger man shrugged, nudging the other with his elbow. "Besides, we were trained by the best." The woman huffed, a small smirk pulling at her lips, and she brushed an auburn curl from her face. "I know, młode, I know." Her expression dropped into seriousness. "Just don't underestimate the woods, do you hear me? Remember everything I've taught you, and do it tenfold - that cursed forest has taken the best of us, and it won't hesitate to take you." The Marksman's expression softened. "Yes ma'am." He acquiesced, dipping his head. "I'll be careful." "Good." The woman murmured. "Good." They fell into another silence, though not uncomfortable, until the older raised a hand to ruffle the Marksman's pale hair. "Well, I'd best leave you to your watch, młode - I'll see you later." The Marksman grinned, letting out a huffed 'hey' as he batted her hand away, and settled back, returning his gaze to the forest. There was a quiet chuckle whilst the woman got to her feet, steps almost silent as she began to make her way down from the watchtower, and the Marksman's expression fell a little, glancing over his shoulder. "Diana," He called, the woman pausing in her descent and looking up at him, eyebrow raised. "We'll find him." He promised, watching the other's expression soften. "And tell your devil of a daughter I said I'll see her when I get back," The man grinned lopsidedly. "And to not touch my stuff while I'm gone, I know what she's like." Diana let out a breath, a somber smile lighting her face. "I will, cub, I will." The Marksman nodded, giving her a wave before turning back. A muffled bang caused him to frown, the sound quickly increasing into the rattle of gunfire, and the man jolted as a sudden force against his back pushed him flat to the ground. He grunted, rolling with the impact and snapping his head round to stare at the creature that had jumped at him, then to whoever had pushed him away. "Diana?" The Marksman stammered, bewildered, but the woman didn't reply, barking out orders as she jumped up and brought her rifle round, arm waving as she motioned for people to move formation. The Marksman frowned, eyes wide, clambering to his feet and watching Diana dart off into what had suddenly become a battlefield, huge dark trees towering above them and the shouts of his patrol echoing around him. The man shook his head, trying to get his bearings even as someone rushed past him, weapon firing. He sent the Marksman a gap-toothed grin, and the younger blinked. "Kaen?" He murmured, confused, then snapped into action and chased after, slinging his rifle off his back. "Kaen! What's going on? Where are we?" Kaen smacked a dark, spindly creature upside the head with the butt of his shotgun, easily falling back-to-back with his brother. "You get knocked in the head harder than we thought?" The larger man snorted, "We're in the Darkwood! Kicking some mutant ass, trying to find lost patrols, all that?" He barked a laugh and blasted a Savage back with his shotgun. "And you're supposed to be the brainy one!" The Marksman scowled, turning to glare only to find the solid weight behind him was the smoking husk of a tank, Kaen nowhere in sight. Startled, the man spun, frantically trying to orientate himself, a pained shout causing his eyes to widen and his blood to freeze. "KAEN?!" He yelled, caution thrown to the wind and panic spiking when he received a higher scream in response. "DIANA?!" The towering trees around him felt like they were closing in, blocking him from finding the others, and the Marksman felt his breath coming out in short, frantic bursts. "WHERE ARE YOU?" His hands trembled around the space his rifle should've been, glancing down before shooting to his knife instead, unable to focus enough to spot where he'd apparently dropped his gun. "ANYONE-" His shout cut off with a winded grunt as something collided with him, knocking him back against the mangled roots that coated the ground and sparking his veins with dread. The man felt a clawed grip curl at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and the phantom pain of branch-like talons ripping across his throat had him throwing his knife up to slash at the creature grappling him. Something grabbed his wrist and managed to stop the blade from sinking into the monster's clavicle, the Marksman's arm trembling with the strain, and another hand was clamped over his mouth, cutting off any sound as the man tried to snarl. "Cholera, kid! It's me!" a distorted voice exclaimed, weirdly breathy, and the Marksman's struggles slowed in confusion. "It's not real! Wake up!"

The command cut through the haze of panic, and the Marksman's eyes shot open, the creature turning out to be the Soldier knelt in front of him, the claws his hands on his shoulder in an attempt to shake him awake, and over his mouth trying to muffle his shouts. The Marksman stared wide-eyed at the older man, taking a moment to realise where he was, before glancing over to see the Stranger looking at him in a similar fashion, the other holding the Marksman's knife hand back from the Soldier's jugular, and the Marksman let go of the blade with a rattling breath, startled. He snapped his gaze up to the Soldier, expecting a hostile reaction, but instead was met by a concerned - if shaken - expression. "You with us?" He asked, deep voice hushed, and it was only belatedly that the Marksman noticed he'd taken his mask off so he could read his lips. "Kid?" The man repeated after a moment, and the Marksman nodded shakily, eyes focused on him. The Soldier let out a relieved breath, but remained tense, slowly removing his hand from over the Marksman's mouth and squeezing his shoulder. "You were having some sort of terror," He explained quietly, the Stranger nodding with his grip still firm on the Marksman's arm, knife placed on the ground away from him. "Started shouting, and we had to wake you or it would've drawn attention to us." The Marksman nodded again, trying to steady his breathing and still his shaking hands whilst watching the Soldier's broad shoulders rise and fall in deep, deliberate breaths, the action thoughtful and helping the younger calm his racing heart. After a few moments, the Marksman gave a gentle tug against the Stranger's grip, the other releasing him with a small, reassuring squeeze and settling back a little. The Soldier kept his hand planted on his shoulder, dark eyes searching his face and with a grimace the Marksman realised his scarf had fallen down around his neck, the mess of his face and throat visible. He moved to recover it, but the Soldier stopped him with a warm hand on his arm, earning a confused quirk of the eyebrow. "Don't worry about that." He shrugged, then leaned forward, expression severe. "Are you alright?" The Marksman took a slow breath, then nodded, signing an 'I'm good' when the Soldier's look became skeptical. The latter watched him for a moment, then conceded with a sigh, leaning back and sharing a glance with the Stranger. "We've never heard you speak before." He began after a little while, a note of curiosity in his voice. "Scared the shit out of us, if I'm honest - I'd assumed you couldn't." The Marksman shrugged one shoulder, then pointed to the thick scars across his throat, and the mushrooms and bark-like growths trying to sprout from them. 'I can't,' He signed, 'Well, I don't, rather. It's not very pleasant.' The Soldier nodded, the Stranger's eyes lighting in sympathy. The former was quiet for a minute, then spoke again. "You were calling for someone," He started, almost hesitant, and the Marksman froze. "I only caught two names, but…" He glanced away, and when he looked back the man's eyes were swelling with an odd mixture of pain and hope. "Kaen and- and Diana?" The Marksman kept his expression carefully blank, almost hyper aware of how the Stranger was glancing between them. "How… What were they, to you?" The Soldier asked, uncertain. "If you don't mind me asking, that is…?" The Marksman watched him for a moment, then lifted his hands. 'Family.' He signed, mouthing the word that felt almost foreign on his scarred lips after so long. 'Kaen was my older brother. Diana was my captain and handler. They were family.' The Soldier looked like he'd been slapped in the face, and the Marksman patted the hand still on his shoulder. 'Do you know them? What… what were they to you?' The Soldier took a shuddering breath, hardly blinking as he stared at the other with realisation and disbelief. "I was Kaen's handler," He answered. "He was the last student I trained before I got lost here. Diana…" The man paused, eyes glistening. "Diana was my wife."

#I've had this bouncing around for a while but i couldn't think of how to start drawing it so #the nickname diana calls him means kitten or cub #i was thinking bear cub but kitten works too i suppose!#me and my google translate skills #looooooore #the botanist #the soldier #the stranger #the marksman #kaen #diana #darkwood #darkwood oc #oc #fanfic #not art #other people's ocs #writing

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kunoichi-ume · 4 years

Note

For the WIP sampler: while I'm curious about Noara's death, I'd much rather hear about her adventures!

Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Sure you don’t wanna hear about Noara dying? About Torian getting there just in time to be too late to save her, but early enough to get to say goodbye? To say an edited version of the Mandalorian wedding vows because even if she doesnt know it he won’t make her lie to him (about raising children together I mean)? About Noara asking if now she can sleep, just for a moment, and Torian knows it will be longer?

No? Okay.

Actually writing her dying at all was a writing exersize that @cinlat sort of dared me to do, sort of a “you never know your character until you put them through ALLLLLL the hell” thing cause I don’t really plan to kill Noara. (Sith Noara however... her days are numbered.)

Noara’s adventure log started when I felt I didn’t really know Noara well enough to keep writing I’ve Got You and was kicking myself for starting the fic so far into the canon story so she wouldn’t be able to grow through her experiences as I worked on her (instead she had to be a finished product and that was bugging me so much!) so I started on Tython and getting into her head from the start.

Have a couple snippets, cause the start of this post was rude I know. They are a bit on the long side, but other than @cinlat who I am pretty sure I shared this doc with, odds are no one else will see this fic if and when I pick it up again because it was more character study than anything but damn if I didnt have fun with it.

Noara’s thoughts as she arrives on Tython to start her trials:

This was the farthest from home she had ever been, not counting wherever she had been before the Jedi brought her to the enclave she’d been raised in. Now she’d left the only home she’d ever known to prove her worth and, hopefully, pass her trials. If she didn’t her dreams of traveling the galaxy and helping people would be gone. She’d be stuck in a research position or raising crops or something else equally unfulfilling even if she understood the necessity of it.

Failure wasn’t an option, not for Noara.

If all the times she had snuck out of her academic classes were any indication, she wouldn’t enjoy life as a scholar.

And the first time she takes a life, even if it’s a Flesh Raider determined to kill her is a big moment for her too:

Noara followed the rock formations, giving her on side where an ambush was less likely, and rounded a corner to see exactly what she had worried she might when she heard their name. Three of the reddish-pink rough skinned creatures crouched on the ground feasting on dead bodies. To make it worse two of the bodies were Jedi and one was their own kind. Flesh eaters and cannibals. That image was going to stick with.her.

Adjusting her grip on her sabers, wishing she had weapons as real as this fight was going to be, she stepped around the rocks and crouched slightly. Pulling the Force around her, she leapt, propelling herself the considerable distance between her and the Flesh Raiders. They reared up as she landed, one coming at her with a training saber it probably stole off one of the dead Padawans, while the other two drew blasters.

Reacting quickly, she blocked the first Flesh Raiders first strike before Force pushing it away to buy her time to deal with the other two. As it stumbled away, she slashed her blades at the two firing at her. They knew how to use the blasters, but their aim was horrendous. They hadn’t had these weapons long and she was easily able to sidestep their shots and cut each across the chest with the electrified edges of her blades.

The creatures cried out, horribly gargled sounds by their misshapen mouths, as they fell. An angry cry behind her reminded Noara of the third Flesh Raider and she turned just in time to block a strike aimed at her skull. Before the beast could react to her quick movement, she stabbed it through the gut with her other weapon.

It fell, dead, at her feet and Noara had to yank her training saber out of it’s ribcage where it had gotten lodged. She turned her sabers off and frowned at the blood, a sickly brown color, that clung to them. She wanted to clean them but had a feeling this wouldn't be her last fight and that it would be a wasted effort.

It wasn’t until the smell hit her that what she had just done really sank in. She’d killed them, hadn’t even hesitated. Noara waited for the regret, the sickening guilt her masters had told her would accompany every life she took, but it didn’t come. Just relief that it was them lying on the ground and not her and the familiar thrill she always felt when sparring. She’d assumed that it would be different in a real fight, that it would be less exciting to win when it meant something else died but it wasn’t.

That thought scared her, because she knew how it sounded. It went against everything Jedi stood for and were taught. Taking a deep breath, she pushed all of that away to meditate on later. She was in a dangerous situation and there were other Padawans depending on her.

And younger Noara might just have an attitude problem, but ya gotta admit the Flesh Raider problem on Tython was seriously mismanaged...

When Noara answered her com a small image of Knight Weller, bending down to brace a wound on his leg, appeared. He looked her image over in relief. “You’re unharmed, good. A Flesh Raider shot me in the leg while I was rescuing some Padawans. No idea where they got blasters, but they know how to use them. I’ve been evacuated to a medcenter but the fighting isn’t over.”

Noara sighed but bit back the comment she wanted to make. For a planet that should be full of some of the galaxy's best warriors they were pretty bad at crisis management. “Will there be reinforcements coming? I’m up to my neck in monsters here.”

Weller nodded. “Some are already there, but they keep pouring in. We need to stop them at the source. Padawan Unaw Aharo found a cave the Flesh Raiders tunneled through to get into the valley. I need you to go and make sure they don’t get more reinforcements through it.”

Noara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her patience was wearing thin, the handling of this situation left much to be desired and her understanding was that all Jedi on Tython were meant to be taking their trials. How any could be at that point and defenseless was beyond her. As far as she had seen, she was the only competent warrior on the whole planet but she wasn’t near arrogant enough to think she could take on every Flesh Raider out there on her own. “I don’t know how much I can do on my own, but I’ll do whatever I can to push them back and see if there is a way to seal the tunnel.”

“You won’t be alone for long,” Weller reassured her. “Master Orgus Din is on his way as well. We need to end this conflict before anyone else gets hurt. Find the cave along the east mountain ridge. May the Force be with you.”

His image winked out of sight and she huffed in annoyance. It had been a few hours since she had been sent into the field to fight the invaders and they were finally sending a member of the council to come help? What were the Jedi Masters doing while Padawans were being captured and killed? So far all she had learned on Tython was that she was lucky to have finished her combat training on Naboo before making the journey, being sent here without it could have been akin to a death sentence.

Master Doran had warned her the trials would be difficult when he tried to talk her into putting them off until she was a little older, but somehow Noara didn’t think this was what he meant.

And then her day just gets worse and worse when she gets to the cave and has to face the rogue Jedi commanding the Flesh Raiders:

The rogue Jedi lunged at her, swinging his lightsaber toward her neck.

Noara just managed to dodge the blow, stepping quickly back. The second swing she caught with one of her training sabers, the blue energy blade crackling against the metal.

“You think to defeat me with those toys?” He laughed, pushing her back with his superior strength and leaving marks in the ground where Noara tried to keep her footing. When most of his weight was committed to pushing her, she dropped to the ground, ducking under his arm and slipping behind him as he stumbled past her.

Using a move Master Doran always called reckless, she leapt into the air. Using the Force she propelled herself across the cavern to where his Flesh Raider backup was. Noara knew that if she wanted a glimmer of a chance to get out of here alive, she couldn’t face all three of them at once. Landing between them, Noara pushed the Force in a ring out from her body and knocked both away from her and to the ground. Stunned, neither stirred. She turned just in time to block the rogue Jedi’s attack with her training sabers crossed in front of her. He pressed forward, forcing Noara to step back again.

Obviously he had an advantage in both size and strength over her. She was going to need to be faster and cleverer. Before he could make her step back again, Noara kicked him in the gut. Not letting up when he stepped back, she followed him, pushing his lightsaber away from her with one of her blades and hitting his sword arm as hard as she could with the other. He dropped the saber with a sharp cry.

Noara turned, releasing one of her training sabers to call his weapon to her. Before she caught it he tackled her, his shoulder digging into her gut. As they tumbled to the ground she lost her grip on her other weapon. She was never much of a grappler, her creche mates had often wiped the floor with her in unarmed spars but she had learned enough to know she couldn’t let him pin her. They landed hard on the ground, rolling a few times before he had straddled her waist and punched her in the face.

Lifting her hips off the ground, Noara tried to throw him off but he was too high on her torso for that to work. Leaning forward he pinned her with his weight and wrapped his hands around her throat. Clawing at his fingers, she turned her head back and forth, trying to find a way out of this before remembering she was still armed. Pulling her leg up as close as she could, Noara blindly reached for her boot. Each of her boots had a dagger hidden in a discrete sheath inside the boot.

Noara’s chest was on fire as she gasped for air and her vision was starting to dim. Reaching out to the Force for strength, she managed to grab the dagger’s hilt and pull it out of her boot. Without hesitation she stabbed him, driving the dagger into his side. He cried out in pain, releasing her neck and she was able to breath again. She ripped the dagger out of his flesh as he fell off of her. Running on pure adrenaline she followed him, burying the bloodied dagger hilt deep into his chest.

Blood gushed around her hand and when he coughed it left bloody spots all over his face. “Killing me changes nothing,” he gasped wetly, “long live the new order.” The rogue Jedi took another gurgling breath before going limp under her and she felt his life force fading.

Pushing herself away from his corpse, Noara tried to breathe through the pain in her chest and throat.

“Look out!” Aharo cried, making Noara turn her head just in time to see the two forgotten Flesh Raiders approaching her.

The dagger was still in the dead man’s chest but she spotted the lightsaber lying on the ground. She pulled it to her hand, activated it and threw it at them. With the Force she controlled it’s trajectory to strike them both. The Flesh Raiders fell to the floor, making similar death rattles to the ones she had heard all day.

For a moment Noara didn’t move, leaning on her hand to keep herself upright while she waited for the next attack. When it didn’t come she slumped on the ground let out a shaky breath. Aharo, holding his gut, limped over to her.

“That was amazing, I thought we were dead for sure,” he said, dropping to his knees next to her. “Are you alright?”

Noara nodded where she lay. “Yeah, I think so.”

#wip snippet game #oc: Noara Starspark #storyknitter

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kittensartswriting · 4 years

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Historical Ancient Norse Clothing vs. Pop Culture

I have a bone to pick with movie and TV costuming of vikings. It seems like pop culture has it own surprisingly consistent (but very wrong) idea of history. As someone who is really into historical clothing and also into Ancient Norse, it brings me physical agony. I’m going to explain with examples. I’ll use three recent shows, Vikings, Norsemen and Last Kingdom. Now keep in mind that I have only watched bit of Norsemen and I actually really liked it, so this has nothing to do with the overall quality of the shows, only the costuming. I picked these shows because they all seem to present themselves very “realistic”, which is why I leave movies like How To Train Your Dragon be, because clearly they are not attempting realism or historical accuracy.

Also, I’m not a historian, and even if I were, there is no way to know what people at that time were actually wearing. There is archaeological evidence and a little historical evidence too, but for some things even historians just have to give their best guess. I’ve done casual and no way academic research for my own projects. If you want to read more yourself, my best resource is Viking Answer Lady. The articles go very into detail and have a lot of historical and archaeological sources.

Okay let’s go. This is going to be long.

Gripe One: “We want to make our show seem gritty and realistic, so clearly we should make our vikings dirty and wear only back and muted colors so they look edgy”

Yes, those pesky vikings, who had bad personal hygiene, wore ripped clothing and hated colors with passion. They were, after all, Menly Men (in 21th century standards). Okay, jokes aside, maybe from my sarcastic tone you can tell that indeed Norse people had very high standards for personal hygiene. According to contemporary records, they washed their faces every morning and bathed regularly in their warmed bath houses. Every man and woman had a comb with them all the time and men also combed their beards and mustaches. Sewing was also a standard skill (especially for women but probably also for men) and people generally in most periods and places before industrialization, including Ancient Scandinavia, were very skilled at it. The wool they used was very high quality and tightly woven into sleek fabric. They also used linen and if they were rich they might have worn silk.

The picture is from The Last Kingdom. The person in the middle is a son of an earl (a local chieftain, so pretty important nobility). Nobles could afford high quality wool, dyes, embroidery and good armor (not yet, but we’ll talk about it soon), and of course nobility wore those things to distinguish themselves from other classes. Norse people wore actually quite a lot of colors, and very bright colors too, especially the richer ones. Probably only slaves didn’t have their fabrics dyed.

And another note about Norse people’s concept of masculinity. Their concept of manly man for example was a very talkative, social and funny guy, who was a good leader, laughed easily and had many friends, brooding dudes were not the ideal. Being fashionable and presentable was also very important for men. They trimmed their beards and mustaches to be neat. Some carvings have men with very dapper mustaches and goatees. Noble men had long hair. Though they would braid them somehow for battle.

The other two shows have same problems. This is from The Vikings and the guy in the middle is a son of a king* and he wears literal rags.

*Apparently Ragnar in the show is farmer rather than royal lineage like in sagas, but farmers dressed well too, though not as well as kings.

More dirty clothes without colors in Norsemen.

Gripe Two: Okay let’s talk about armor

Armor is certainly not only problem in historical shows about vikings, but in most historical shows and movies, period. Let’s start with what people really wore into battle back then. It would of course depend on their wealth and social standing so let’s start with the absolute minimum.

First they wore underclothing, usually linen tunics. Over that wool tunics. Linen is very easy to wash so it gathers all the sweat and the wool is preserved in better condition. Over that they would wear padded armor. It was armor made from cloth and padded thick with usually horse hair. It was actually very good armor and shielded well from cuts, though not so well from stabs.

Helmet and a hood under it was a must. Battle without helmet would have been a death sentence and helmet without hood did very little to actually shield head. The hood would also shield neck which was just as important. Also leather gloves. It would be hard to hold your weapon and defend yourself, if you’d get hit on fingers.

This would have probably been a basic armor for a peasant. Warrior class and nobility would have better armor though. Padded armor was used combined with other armor. Plate armor was not really a thing back then, but chain mail was probably the most used one. It was expensive to make so peasants couldn’t afford it, but it great against stabs and slashes, and on top of that was flexible and didn’t restrict movement. You couldn’t use it without enough padding under, just try to think about the iron rings sinking into your flesh... A chain mail hood also might have been used over the softer hood.

Other options for chain mail were lamellar, an armor stitched from small plates of metal, and leather armor. Lamellar gave great protection, but since it was a bit restrictive, it was probably only used as breast plate, so if a warrior was rich enough to get that, they would also get a chain mail under it. Leather armor was not very good alone, but combined with other types of armor it gave some extra protection. A really thick leather with fur (for example reindeer fur) would have been used like padded armor. Leather was probably made in the form of a tunic. Basically it would been only used alone if it was really thick or had fur too. Lastly they would have used a cloak or a coat depending on weather.

Now, after seeing the couple of shots from the shows, you may start to see a problem.

I tend to forgive movies and shows the lack of helmets, since it makes it harder to know who is who and what is happening in a battle scene, which after all, is much more important for a story than historical accuracy. However, they have literally no excuse for the lady warrior to have ONLY a leather top (????) on. Norsemen is comedy, rather than historical drama, but the aesthetic is realistic, so I’m not going to let them of the hook. (And may I point out the dude behind the lady warrior? Is... is that supposed to be a chain mail? I’m confused.)

My dude, your hands will get chopped off... Please don’t wear a leather top or a t-shirt into a battle. Unarmored arms would really get lost. If you got a deep cut into your arm in that period, you had a really high change of loosing that arm.

This is from Vikings and I wanted to include it as a slightly positive example. He is wearing leather armor (which looks weird but let’s ignore that) over chain mail, so it’s actually very good protection!

Gripe Three: Women’s clothing is all over the place

I have yet to see a remotely accurate Ancient Norse women’ clothing on screen.

Most of these from Norsemen look like 12th or 13th century dresses, the way how they are very fitting on hands and upper body. Most bizarre is the girl on gray clothing on the background. What is it? Why it looks like weirdly ripped and like it’s sewn by someone who’s never before touched a needle?

Then Vikings. Let’s ignore the guy in the picture (he is a king but wears no colors and some weird looking leather armor, moving on). Both of these ladies are queens and they should have bright colors (also hair up, only unmarried young women and children wore hair down). The lady on the right has a little better outfit. The cloak looks actually really good, though not sure about the texture. The dress however is pretty bad. The lady on the left is just wrong. The neckline would have never been this low. Why is it brown? And what is that belt thing? Norse people used a lot of layers, and it was also kind of a status symbol to have a lot of layers of bright clothes. Let’s hope she has a very well hidden under-layer for her hygiene. And lastly the jewelry looks more from 16th century or something for both of them. Viking ladies used a lot of jewelry, and queens would have had very showy jewelry. Let’s look at a lot more historically accurate clothing.

This would have been something a noble lady could wear. They wore of course under-layer, then a dress long tunic over that, over that, a usually slightly shorter dress with shoulder straps and then a narrow apron which was attached into the shoulder straps with showy fasteners and between them was usually hanging some jewelry. The outfit might have had a long twined belt around the whole thing too. And as in the picture, a lot of embroidery for the rich people.

I know they think edgy black clothing is inherently cooler, but...

Really I think the accurate clothing is really cool and badass. Like let me show you some pictures of reenactors to prove it.

Bonus Non-Gripe

Also lastly I just want to say, this outfit from Vikings slaps. It’s gorgeous, it makes little sense, but I love it. Let’s pretend he has padded armor under the tunic, okay.

#history #historical clothing #costume history #viking #armor #viking armor #historical accuracy #historical fiction #costuming #tv costuming #historical drama #ancient norse #ancient norse clothing

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believerindaydreams · 3 years

Text

yay I wrote an ending! Again!

It is moar endery than last time tho and pleasingly spooky

Arcade

He's legitimately unclear at this point what's real and what isn't.

Christine for instance has abandoned the use of her sniper rifle altogether, relying on a power glove to take on the hordes of feral ghouls that populate the Dunwich Building. She's a trained Brotherhood assassin whose capabilities he's not privy to- how can he guess if her punches and war cries are her own, or impelled by something past the grave?

And the swish of a heavy coat behind him, the cock of a heavy-duty handgun, the sounds aren't there if he stops to listen properly. They're in the fraught moments, when his attention is too bent on surviving a fight to contemplate distractions.

And Boone. Arcade's almost certain his lover isn't here at all; he wouldn't be here empty-handed, with nothing to defend himself. The shoulder of his survival armor is sodden with dark liquid, his breath doesn't mist in the unwholesome chill.

Nothing can persuade him to use the blood-sight down here. It's not hard to see glowing ones, even in the dark.

Christine leads them down through offices and hallucinations, broken dreams and broken steel overlapping. Her instinct's smooth, unerring; not a wasted movement or wrong turn.

Somewhere along the way he gives way to temptation, takes a folded overcoat from his doctor's bag. The pestilent chill needs something sturdy to ward it off.

Christine watches with amusement, her bared teeth white in the dark; and forces shapeless scribal robes over her stealth suit. The hood reminds him of an illustration he'd seen in a burnt book once, an executioner holding the axe.

The dripping from Boone's wound is audible now, in still moments. He doesn't complain.

They're getting closer- the works of humanity have given way to those of nature, caverns lit by ethereal blue fire and populated by the dead. He and Christine cut their passage forward, each step bought with an unholy life, a guttural cry; and his clean holorifle becomes useless without scientific microfusion to support it. He takes out his ripper instead, slashing limbs that don't bleed and bodies without reason, and fights to preserve the ghost he can't even be sure accompanies them.

There is no silent peace to mark the end of their quest, or none he can hear at least; just a dead end, and Christine's voice as they circle, protecting each other's backs. "This is it. Cover me, I'll use the book."

He is certain the word should have been destroy, not use; but the difference is academic in every sense, with the continued influx of ghouls pressing them. There's too many of them. He can see the fallen remaking themselves, disembodied hands scuttling back to tattered limbs, heads rolling slowly back to torsos. They'll never survive this onslaught.

"I have it," Christine says. "It requires two."

She's read ahead and he hasn't; but the intent of the ritual knife she holds is anything but ambiguous. Arcade fends off a glowing one's attack by lopping it in half, wonders how he can buy breathing space from her.

"Christine. Christine, you don't want to do this."

"Yes, I do." She moves in for the kill, and all that saves him is the ridiculous inadequacy of her small knife, compared to all the weapons

His ripper catches it in mechanical teeth, only to shatter into a mess of gears and flying debris. She binds him to the obelisk, with a heavy twine woven from punga vines.

"Please don't...don't. Veronica's gone, this isn't going to bring her back."

"You want me to be rational," Christine says, a tear mixing with the sweat and blood running down her face. "You want me to give up a one in a million chance to bring my lover back, because you live and breath. Arcade. I'd kill my way through a hundred as good and pure as you, for the faintest chance of seeing her one last time."

She swings in the blade for the kill, one sure slash towards his throat; and Veronica Santangelo blocks it. Pushes the knife back on its owner.

"Not again...I can't have a Follower die for me again..."

Christine lets go of the knife, holds Veronica in a sobbing, ecstatic embrace; and then there is finally silence, a moment of pure peace before Veronica draws the knife down, through the back into the heart.

The knife rings out, as it clatters to the floor; the book falls with an obscene rustle of pages. The rest is ash and dust.

Arcade frees himself with a fragment of his ripper, grabs the ritual objects in a vague hope they'll fend anything away, give him power. The mass of ghouls running towards him don't seem impressed.

What does impress them is the unmistakable sound of a 10mm bullet piercing a rotten skull.

Arcade gives up. Calls in the blood-sight the way Boone had warned him never to do, alone and unmoored; and can see the mass of undead approaching this spot, a horde, a flood. The wanderer poised against them.

And somewhere, very far up, a warm human life with a beating heart. A beacon back to everything sane.

"For the Enclave," Autumn says quietly, reloading his pistol.

Arcade meets his gaze, one last time; and throws him the overcoat before running for dear life.

*****

Boone is sleeping outside the entrance when Arcade makes it out, peaceful and untroubled. There's no wound on him.

Arcade shakes his head, liberally avails himself of the medicines and chems Boone's thoughtfully hauled along. What's left should still see them back to Point Lookout, if they're careful.

"You waited for me," he says, when Boone wakes up.

"Sure." The sniper lifts a lid off a pot, sniffs it. "Made that stew you liked."

"Beer and mole rat meat, wasn't it?"

"Something like that."

They eat under a dark sky pockmarked with stars, and the food is warming and the book looks like a book. He thinks he can go back and forget all this, if not forgive it.

"Christine died down there?" Boone asks, around a mouthful of potato.

"Yeah. She...she didn't want to live, without Veronica."

Boone does something that can really only be described as cuddling up to him, flank to flank and an arm against his back. "Glad you disagreed."

"...I think you may have saved my life down there."

There is, he thinks, something very restful about being able to say that and just being offered more soup in response.

"Radio's been buzzing," Boone says after a while. "Seems somebody blew up the Citadel. Funny thing is, nobody's claiming credit."

"Not even the Enclave?"

"Judah came on to say...denouncing in the strongest possible terms, something like that. Three Dog is saying the Brotherhood should sue for peace, whatever suing means."

"I'm not sure that will end well. An Enclave-Brotherhood alliance could be a terrible thing."

"You gonna go back to Raven Rock and do something about it?"

It doesn't take him so long as a breath to make up his mind. "No. You know what? I want to take this book back to the people who were worshipping it, and give them some tips about not letting it be stolen next time. Then I want to weed my herb garden. Then I want to organize the Boardwalk library, and lie in the sun with you and Manny and Carla and Daisy, and just...be. Finish my stimpak research. Stop taking every ill of the wasteland on my shoulders, because there'll never be an end to it."

"Sounds like a good plan. Home."

"Home."

They fall asleep together, for once; and no denizen of the wasteland comes to harm them.

#ttw draft

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blind-rats · 4 years

Link

The ability of fans to shape and change the art they enjoy is nothing new. In 1893, the reaction to Arthur Conan Doyle killing off Sherlock Holmes was so intense that he eventually resurrected him ten years later. Historian Greg Jenner, the author of the forthcoming book Dead Famous (a study of the history of fame), has even tracked the characteristics of modern fandom back to the 1700s when rival supporters of English theatre actresses would compete for dominance like Team Aniston or Team Jolie.

And to the 1920s, where fan groups would write thousands of letters to movie studios demanding their favorite actor be given better roles. “It was the same thing,” he says, “as Sonic the Hedgehog having weird teeth and people going, ‘No, that’s not the game I played as a kid, you need to fix it or I am not giving you any money.’”

The last decade or so has witnessed huge changes in the awareness, perception, and tools of fandom. In terms of television and film, the enormous successes of Game of Thrones and the Marvel Cinematic Universe have introduced geek culture – and its brand of participatory fandom – to the mainstream. At the same time, the internet – and more specifically social media – has amplified fans’ voices, while also breaking down the boundaries between them and the artists they love/hate.

Yet the extent to which the internet has changed the very nature of fandom is debatable. According to leading media scholar Henry Jenkins, whose 1992 book Textual Poachers is considered the founding text of fan studies, it has merely “increased the scope and scale of the fan community, allowed for ongoing interactions amongst fans, and made the entertainment industry more aware of the kind of fan responses which have been occurring all along”.

Case in point: in 1968, Star Trek fans – a group who essentially invented the framework of modern fandom – orchestrated a huge and successful letter-writing campaign to save the show from cancellation. Then, in subsequent years, they also popularised fan fiction as we now know it, publishing stories for each other in zines, and pioneering the homoerotic literary sub-genre of slash fiction (the term ‘slash’ literally derives from the punctuation between Kirk / Spock).

Now fans weaponize hashtags and online petitions to revive shows like The Expanse and Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or to take showrunners to task with criticisms of their blind spots and choices. One notable example is the teen show The 100, which sparked ire in 2016 after killing off one of the show’s prominent gay characters; an act that was seen by many to perpetuate the ‘bury your gays’ trope that has been prevalent in TV and film. And as for fan fiction? There is, most famously, E L James’ Fifty Shades of Grey series, which was inspired by Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight and originally posted on a fan website. But, beyond that, there is also the platform Archive of Our Own, which in 2019 won a Hugo award for its archive of more than 4.7 million fan-written stories.

“Fans engaging actively with the materials of their culture has improved our world in countless ways,” says Jenkins. “Television, as it exists today, is largely a response to modes of engagement that fans have modeled over the past several decades – [a form] where more attention is paid to backstories and secondary characters, where there is a greater degree of serialization and the core mythology is sustained across multiple media platforms, and which builds in space for exploration and speculation. And now, which seeks to be more diverse and inclusive in whose stories get told… Many of today’s critical darlings are following practices that were modeled first in fan fiction.”

Perhaps one of the most profound changes of the last 10 years is the extent to which the entertainment industry has begun to exploit the passion of fanbases for their own commercial ends. “The industry needs fans more than ever before,” explains academic Suzanne Scott, author of Fake Geek Girls, a study of the gender politics of fandom. “They need fans to ensure big opening weekends at the box office, they need them as promotional labor to create more ‘authentic’ excitement around a media object, or to distinguish one text from the glut of content that we are constantly choosing between as consumers.” Just take the techniques employed by Netflix, who have become masters of facilitating ‘organic’ conversation around their output.

On the more extreme end of the spectrum, they even rely on them as investors. A famous example being the 2014 big-screen revival of cult TV detective drama Veronica Mars, a sequel made possible only by the crowdfunding efforts of fans, and which subsequently led to a 2019 TV return on streaming service Hulu.

With the latter series, this equal partnership dynamic started to become complicated, however, with fans recoiling in horror when creator Rob Thomas killed off love interest Logan.

To quote journalist Constance Grady, writing for Vox: “Thomas, they said, had taken advantage of their desire to see Veronica and Logan together, using their investment as shippers to leverage not just their time and attention, but the literal dollars out of their pockets. In that case, didn’t he owe them something?”

Jenkins thinks it’s a fair question. “The sense of ownership reflects the way humans have always engaged with stories,” he says. “We use stories to make sense of who we are. We use stories to debate our values, fears, and aspirations. We display our attachment to stories in various ways and we define ourselves through which stories mean the most to us. There’s nothing odd about this. What is odd is the idea that corporations want to claim a monopoly over the storytelling process, resist input from their audience, and lockdown stories from further circulation and elaboration.”

CLICK THE LINK FOR THE FULL ARTICLE

#Veronica Mars #Fandom #Fanbase #Sonic The Hedgehog #Star Trek

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loyalflutist · 5 years

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Scarlet Carnation - Prologue (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Words: 7,084 Collaboration with @datsexykiwi Summary: “Ignorance is bliss...when you know too much, you will only face worse dilemmas of your lifetime”

Byleth is thrust into a difficult position. After experiencing a strange dream, the professor eventually finds herself switching between the two worlds with two very different Edelgards. Though they contrast from each other, Byleth could not help but cherish them... as they do for her.

A/N: So this is the first series I’ve written for Edeleth, and this is a collaboration I’m grateful to have with the lovely Kate, also known as @datsexykiwi . As someone who I’ve known for years, she’s someone I place great faith in her writing and trust in the ideas we cook up together. Hope you all enjoy this series! I really enjoyed writing it! :)

Kate’s A/N: Enjoy the max of angst and fluff. Have fun along with us. ;)

---

It was hot.

A young woman’s forehead gleam under the relentless sun, sweat dripping from her features. Her breaths were as fast as it could come and go. The dark, light armor that should have served as protection over her academic attire was in lieu of roasting her alive. She licked her cracked, bottom lip; a tinge of metal swept over her taste buds.

It was unbearably hot.

Loud, metallic screeches, horses neighing, and screams of all kinds filled the blurry background. There were a variety of sounds that would have driven out any ordinary person. This was something she was used to.

She looked down at her feet. A pool of blood stained the rocky pavement that belongs to the monastery; her metal combat boots were deep in the puddle. Evaporation in this humid and sweltering heat should have occurred in less than a few minutes. However, the ground remained moist as its source oozed plenty of crimson from his injuries. The Sword of Creator was lodged deep into the nameless soldier’s ribcage, its jagged edges slicing through all three germ layers. His facial expressions were, thankfully, overshadowed by his large steel helmet.

“...”

Byleth blinked. It had dawned upon her that she was still gripping ahold of the terrifying relic. Then, with a grunt, the older woman heard a sickening slick while removing her sword. The blade was coated in a deep shade of red. Unfortunately, it didn’t only derive from the deceased warrior. She slowed her respiration rate, her hues shifted upward at the battlefield.

Shadows shaped like fighters of all sizes and shapes ran at each other. When they collided, a black mist would swirl around as if they were dancing to the tune of death. Sparks and elemental spells would erupt from the visual attraction. Then, they would separate. They became still. This stillness would only last for a couple of seconds, however. One would showcase a noticeable trait of losing the blackness that enveloped their figures. Their identity would become public as they accept their demise.

This was surreal. Byleth’s knuckles became white as her aching limbs screamed for mercy. She can’t seem to recall her reason for being here. No matter how much the ex-mercenary mentally groveled, her brain would only pull up blanks. Still, there was one thing she was sure of: she had to be here in this battle.

“tɾo faða noi dɔn joɹhan dorja”

“...”

Archaic language thumped her eardrums. Clearly, it was something Byleth didn’t comprehend. She exhaled. The professor eventually raised her weapon once more as three more shadows crept towards her from the distance; each of them possesses one of the three shadow-cloaked weapons: a sword, a lance, and an axe. She squeezed the relic’s handle.

‘ Is this a dream? ’

It has to be. Not only were there supernatural elements that she could not coherently wrap her head around, but she was also the only person who retained her physical appearance. But it was vivid. The pain that singed from the sweats’ contact with her minor cuts, the wild beating of her heart against her chest plate, the aches that resonated in her worn muscles, and the fatigue that shrouded over her consciousness was a bit too realistic.

‘ Is this really a dream? ’

Alas, Byleth left it at that. The three unwelcome guests soon closed their distance. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and deeply inhaled. When she exhaled, her eyelids snapped open and she flicked her wrist. Rocky debris kicked up in the air as she launched herself at the three enemies. The blade was reeled behind her back, her glare prominent.

“It’s over!”

The shadows retaliated. The lancer thrust their spearhead at her chest, the axe-wielder pulled back both arms to deliver a slamming blow, and the sword-user horizontally swiped at the professor.

Byleth pivot her feet. She sucked in her stomach and twisted her upper body. It was a fleeting moment for the spear’s tip to brush up on her heated armor. A battle cry was heard from her direction as she, with all her might, swung her weapon.

The Sword of Creator is a powerful tool during times of conflict. Parts of the blade broke apart into small chunks. It began to emit a dull glow as its razor-like edges flung outward at her enemies. They were unable to block the devastating assault. A single swing produced a multitude of traumas to their body. Splatters of red painted Byleth’s cheek. One by one, the black shell vanished without a trace as they collapsed onto the new puddle.

“...”

She lurched forward. Byleth quickly shoved her foot in front of her to prevent a fall. The young teacher was hunched over, panting; her vision was fading in and out like strobe lights. This is terribly exhausting. She slammed the relic onto the cracked pavement. Using it as support, the neon green-haired dryly swallowed and raised her head.

“...?”

There was another shadow from a few meters. Compared to most others that fill the disheveled landscape, this individual was shorter than them. A monstrous axe slashed through their existence like a hot knife through butter. Each strike brought out more fluids from their victims; dark substances flung in the air in slow motion. It was done with complete elegance and ease. This should have rung plenty of alarm bells in her head. No one should have possessed the strength to make bloodshed a visual treat. They’re a monster; a beast that should be put down. Instead, Byleth could not help but be in awe of the enigmatic person.

She could sense danger emitting from the short fighter. Fortunately, her instincts scream that the teacher has nothing to worry about. Whether Byleth’s guts are being churlish or not with her life is up for speculation. The older woman continued to observe the ephemeral bloody dance.

Just who is this shadow?

“...Huh?”

There was another dark figure spotted in Byleth’s peripheral sight. Sweat continued to fall from her face as her eyes were fixated on the new arrival. When her gaze slowly traced the shadow’s objective, her blood froze.

“?!”

Murderous beauty may have been bestowed to the shadow, but it did not prevent an unfortunate ending. Newfound energy burst through four of her limbs. The ex-mercenary scrambled towards the axe-wielder. Byleth was still unable to grasp ahold of her action’s purpose. But, just like her instincts told her about the unforgiving battle, she too had to protect this shadow.

‘ The Divine Pulse! ’

It was all for naught. Regardless of the amount of concentration she emphasized on the potent skill, not a speck of dust reversed to its original position on the concrete slab. Everything was still progressing forward.

‘ Why is it not working?! ’

There was no time.

She had no choice.

She needed to--

Byleth shoved the shadow out of the way. This threw the person off balance as their entire body stumbled sideways. Facial features were impossible to read, but the teacher could have sworn she saw a flicker of a familiar identity. She widened her eyes. The fighter extended her unoccupied hand out towards the supernatural.

There was a blunt thud pressed into her back. Then, the dull aches that plagued her tightened muscles ramped up to excruciating pain that ripped through her entire being. Byleth felt as if her spine had exploded! Just when this searing agony felt as if it could get any worse, it immediately dissipated… just like her consciousness.

< ---- >

“---!!”

She gasped and woke up abruptly from her bed. That was certainly a sudden transition from a bloody battle to being in a cozy bed within a tranquil atmosphere. She placed her hand onto her shoulder, remembering that pain against her back. It felt too real that she actually thought she’s dead. She wondered why would she have such a bizarre dream like that. Is it a premonition? Is it just irrational thoughts playing tricks on her dream?

“What a nightmare to have… ”

It’s about time to get up from bed towards her morning class. It’s another day she’ll be instructing the Black Eagles classroom. However, Byleth couldn’t shake the thought away about the dream she had recently. The thing is, those dreams started with being so vague she could barely remember any details of it aside from the fact she’s dreaming. Eventually, she started seeing and remembering more details as everything started to feel real. Sometimes, she would even be aware of what was happening but absolutely have no control over what was happening. She sighed and wondered what was this all about until she heard her green-haired friend speaking inside her mind.

‘ Nightmare again? ’

“...It has been so frequently. I’m starting to feel like I’m sleep deprived.”

‘Too bad I couldn’t see the dream itself, but I can tell you looked uncomfortable in your sleep.’

“...”

Byleth sighed before she changed into her signature black outfit look and lace stockings. She left her room and hid her exhaustion under her poker face like usual. She’s not that expressive according to Jeralt and her students that have been with her for a couple of weeks. She headed to her class to begin the training.

Today’s lesson plan was to teach her fellow students how to balance properly as an essential skill in the battle.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a swordsman or not. Balance is an essential skill that everyone must understand how to use it. Or else, you’ll simply put yourself at a disadvantage unnecessarily. It is both a defensive and offensive skill.”

She demonstrated how to lower the center of gravity, gripping onto the ground firmly with one’s toes. Byleth demonstrated simple actions that allowed her students to understand it without much complexity. It is one of the most difficult basics that took her years to grasp it.

“You can’t always rely on brute force. When you are on the battlefield, what determines the victor is not who’s physically stronger, but who knows how to utilize their body’s strengths better. The ladies will have an advantage due to the fact that they naturally have a lower center of gravity than men. Simple basics, but a difficult mastery.”

Byleth walked up to the dummy made from bamboo. She used the training sword and showed her students its sharpness; it wasn’t that great. It could barely cut through one. However, she will use that same blade to cut through a pack of 3 bamboo stalks in a single strike. All of the members of Black Eagles watched attentively before the young professor did not use any brute force to cut, but was able to slice through all the stalks with a single fluid motion without breaking her sword.

“If you know how to use your hip and balance well with your skills, then you are able to cut through the enemy’s armor or weapon.”

She then asked Caspar to assist her by swinging the sword with all his might at her. At first, he was reluctant to do so but Byleth asked him to trust her. In the end, he did as his professor said, and the moment he dashed and swung his training sword up into the air, ready to cut Byleth down, she swung her sword right at him too.

KLANK

It was Caspar’s sword that fell out from his grip and he could feel the numbness rushing through his shivering hand. Edelgard recognized it; that was the same move that she used to disarm the bandits on their first encounter.

“You can disarm, and that is enough to buy the time to strike your opponent down. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good, let’s begin the training. Go to your assigned station. I will come to check on you all individually.”

Byleth went around the group checking on her students, teaching all the fundamentals that Jeralt used to teach her when she’s simply just a kid. All of them showed perseverance and put all their effort to learn from her. After the training came to an end, she delegated one and a half spare hour for her team to focus on anything they wanted to do. Meanwhile, she will be working with three students on their private one-on-one training every time. Today, she would be checking up on Caspar, Dorothea, and Edelgard.

“Professor! Is this how you do it?”

“Not quite, you have to lower your balance a bit more.”

Byleth watched the young blue-haired boy stood his ground. She circled around him before she pushed him abruptly without him realizing it, sending him falling onto the ground.

“W-Whoa!?”

“Not good enough, Caspar. You have to relax more.”

“Gah! This is so hard...”

“Like I said, it is a difficult mastery.”

“You’re so good at it...”

“Keep practicing, Caspar. You will get there eventually.”

Finishing with the young boy, she headed to Dorothea and as expected she did slightly better than Caspar due to her natural low center of gravity. As she physically has to shift Dorothea, that made her student giggle and tease the older female.

“Oh professor, I feel so intimate when you’re touching me like that...”

“Keep the context clean, Dorothea.”

“C’mon! Just play along, will you?”

“Not when you make it sound like I’m physically violating you.”

“You’re such a fiend, professor!”

“Oh lord...”

As usual, Byleth was subjected to Dorothea’s sly tease every time she tried to teach her something, at least she’s a very studious girl that worked extremely hard or just as much as Edelgard herself. After she finished her session with her, the last remaining 20 minutes was with the head of the Black Eagles, Edelgard.

“Professor, could I test my skills?”

“I don’t mind that. What would you like me to do?”

“Please attack me, I want to do that disarming move you did.”

“Make sure you disarm me, because I won’t hold back.”

“That will be my pleasure.”

Byleth ran in and swung her sword towards Edelgard before she twisted, using her lower body as her strength to add power into her strike. That struck onto Byleth’s sword, but it didn’t manage to disarm her. However, it was enough to force the professor backward to regain her distance. Edelgard had that slight disappointment in her face as she thought she would’ve disarmed Byleth.

“That was really good. If I didn’t hold my sword tightly enough, it would’ve flew out from my hand. That was splendid, Edelgard.”

She smiled and praised her student for her amazing achievement. That made the young emperor blush slightly with contentment despite not reaching her expectations. As the tutoring session continued on, the class was finally over. Everyone slowly left the room to the dining hall for their meals whilst Edelgard was the last student to leave.

“Professor, are you by chance available at the moment?”

“What is the matter?”

“Well...I want to speak with you in person. Discuss some few matters.”

“Very well then, like usual?”

It seemed there was some secret way they communicate with each other. Edelgard nodded softly with those pink blushing cheeks that it made the professor just have to tease her a little bit. She pinched her soft silky cheeks before letting out a soft chuckle.

“You are adorable, Edelgard.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“My bad, let us go, shall we? I’m certain you brought your packed lunch.”

Bull’s eye. Edelgard did request a packed lunch earlier in the morning since it was her plan to have a private lunch session with her professor without other students around. They headed out to a quiet secluded space where there wouldn’t be many students around to spot them nor disturb their peace for lunch and tea. What they usually talk was related to their class content, especially digesting what she learned through the past week.

“Today’s class was very interesting. I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad you did. You’re doing really well too.”

“It is because of your guidance and training.”

“You credited me too much, Edelgard.”

“Not at all, professor.”

After they talked about their lessons, their conversation started to shift to something more casual and rather personal between the two of them. During the past weeks, Byleth was working in the Monastery as a professor, she certainly developed a special bond with Edelgard. Not sure where this is leading the two of them to, but Byleth realize she developed this sense of adoration towards the young emperor. She enjoyed her time with the young lady when it is just the two of them, it feels rather different from when they were other students in the class. As for Edelgard herself, she was clear with how she’s especially fond of the professor in a way she never ever did to anyone in her life. Byleth seemed to have a special place in her heart, but she was yet to be very honest with her selfish demands.

“I hope one day I can be as strong as you, professor.”

“I’m certain you will be.”

“...Will you be there to watch me? Being there with me?”

“I would love to. You all have a bright future up ahead and it would be a great pride and joy to watch you all grow stronger. I want to be there and see how far will you rise and shine as a future emperor of the Empire, Edelgard.”

“You promised, okay? You’ll be there with me.”

Edelgard moved in closer and began to whisper softly so no one could’ve overheard her words. Byleth didn’t reject her and only placed her hand on top of Edelgard’s hand before smiling back at her with sweet adoration.

“So, you want me there with you when you become an emperor, am I correct?”

“...I suppose if you put it bluntly like that, yes.”

“I see.”

She didn’t tease her much aside from giving a soft kiss on her forehead. That made her blush over to her ears in silence, she leaned onto her shoulder before they held each other’s hand without saying a word to each other. Byleth may have been experienced with countless battles, but she’s a novice when it comes to romance - Edelgard included. They spent their tranquil moment enjoying each other’s company before time is up. It was about time they return back to their classes.

“Edelgard, we must go.”

“Right.”

As she slowly let go of her professor, she seemed to be reluctant and it was written all over her face. Byleth picked up those hints that the young emperor wanted to do or say something.

“What’s wrong?”

“...Well, this is embarrassing.”

“...”

The professor could read her expression, and that made her giggled softly to herself before she opened her arms for the young one to come in. She ended up blushed even more with how her professor managed to read her childish mind so easily. She refrained from going in for the hug and made Byleth rather puzzled for a second.

“Ah, was that a bit too much?”

“Y-You’re such a bully, professor.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“How could you be capable of doing such things like this without being embarrassed?”

“Not sure myself, for some reason, I’m not embarrassed by it.”

“You’re truly weird, professor.”

This time she just pushed herself into Byleth’s arms and embrace her tightly. The young one buried her face onto her shoulder. That made the professor embrace her back gently. Despite the tough character she portrayed, she has this childish side that loves hugs. It was for a few seconds, but it is quite long for the two of them.

Byleth returned back to her room and felt so exhausted. It may have been lack of sleep she’s been having recently. She decided to go to bed early today and then she heard Sothis speaking inside her mind.

‘ You’ve become quite fond of that girl. ’

“Huh…?”

‘ Just be careful, she’s still a child. ’

“I am well aware of that. She’s an adorable student of mine.”

‘ I wonder if it is just a student-teacher relationship you both shared. I doubt she is thinking that way about you though. I lived long enough to realize that. ’

“Well...I don’t know what to say.”

‘ My only warning would be, don’t give her false hopes if you’re not planning to see it through until the end. ’

“Never thought there will be a day I got a piece of love advice you.”

‘ Shut up, I may look young but I lived way much longer than you do, kid. ’

“Yes, ma’am.”

Byleth gave Sothis a slight tease back but what she said was true though. She’s well aware of Edelgard’s growing feelings that may have towards her. The way she looked and sought physical comfort from her has been escalating gradually. Even though she adored Edelgard quite a bit more than several students, she wouldn’t be able to say that would make her anywhere special and different from other students like Dorothea, Caspar, Bernadette and others too. Byleth wasn’t sure herself if she would call that romantic affection that she has for Edelgard, but regardless of that, she should be careful not to give false hope to her. Rejection is painful, but what's worse than that is receiving false hopes from the one they love.

“...Thank you for the warning though, I will keep that in mind.”

She thanked Sothis back, but she didn’t respond anymore. She probably went to sleep inside Byleth or something, as usual. Thus, it was about time for her to go to bed too. As she lay down and closed her eyes...she recalled that dream was killed. For some reason, she couldn’t shake those thoughts away. As her mind slowly drifted off into the darkness, she wondered if she would have that same nightmare again this time or not...

< ---- >

CAW! CAW! CAW!

She cracked open her eyelids from the annoying sound. No matter how much she tried to will herself to stay asleep, the ridiculous noise would only increase in tempo and volume. It was almost like out of a horror tale Hubert would spook everyone with! This left her with the latter option of waking up, much to her dismay.

Through her lens, the older female stared at a blurry, brown wall. The natural twitches from her fingertips brushed upon a rather tough, granite-like surface. When she dragged her gaze upward, she found herself peering through a pile of broken pillars and stone slabs. The entire structure was acting as a small shelter for the teacher; its large hole from above provided the necessary sunlight for the woman.

“...”

Clearly, she was not in bed anymore. Just where is she?

That was the first question that popped to mind upon awakening. Byleth regained more of her consciousness as she sat up. This tactician felt a groan slip out as she pressed against her forehead. Small bits of rocks and pebbles were heard rolling off of her chest. She blinked. Then, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face.

‘ Okay… I’m not at the academy for sure. ’

Obvious deductions were noted. Byleth lowered her hand and scanned her surroundings. The placement of the materials won’t pose any threat to her life. When the professor rapped her knuckles on a torn pillar with ferocity, it hardly budged. There was also plenty of room to stand up on her feet in this secluded premise. She quickly brushed off the residue from her dirtied skirt.

‘ ...Sothis? ’

No response. Confuzzled, Byleth made another attempt.

‘ Sothis… Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping. ’

Once again, no response. The teal-haired frowned. This was especially concerning. Sothis was never the type to leave her hanging. After all, she is the only person in existence to be able to communicate and see her. There’s no doubt that the petite woman would jump at every opportunity to talk at her beck and call. (Almost like a cat!) To boot, wherever Byleth is, Sothis was always there by her side.

‘ I’m sure I’ll figure it out later. ’

There was no point in dwindling upon the matter. Thinking and wishing won’t bring the short woman back to her side. Besides, there are far more important matters to tend to as of right now.

Byleth eventually recognized the Sword of Creator’s presence. The weapon had laid comfortably on the cracked pavements, waiting for its master to relinquish their ownership.

‘ I should get out of here. ’

The ex-mercenary thought of her next course of action as she retrieved her sword. She sheathed the ancient relic back on her waist and looked up at the hole. Gauging from its distance, size, and her skillset, Byleth should be able to make it.

Knees and elbows bent, the professor jumped up and grabbed ahold of the hole’s borders. Thanks to her efforts in training with the students and remaining vigilant with her exercises, this posed little to no strain on her muscles.

Byleth popped out of the pile like a flying fish. Both of her legs straightened as she squarely plopped on the ground. Had her students witnessed this feat, they would have clapped and praised for her acrobatic endeavors!

The teal-haired’s eyes nearly boggled out of its sockets. Unfortunately, desolation was her audience.

It was so barren, and this place... It was once the defense base of the monastery. Various structures were in shambles as if someone or something had rocked this sacred area; its servitude as a protective guardian beyond its walls was fruitless. When she glanced up, the sky high above was cloudless, but consist of a sun tormenting those below with its rays of light. If there was someone worth mentioning, it’s those pesky crows that perched on the black branches of a dead tree. Six of them stared at Byleth; their beaks were clamped shut. It appears that they have a new subject to overwatch on this land.

Byleth tapped the side of her head as she examined her setting.

‘ Just what in the world happened here…? ’

So far, Byleth can’t see a single, notable landmark beyond the base that would pinpoint her next destination. Her shoulders and head slumped.

‘ I have no choice but to walk around and find a village. If I remember correctly, there should be one behind this defense structure. ’

The woman glanced over her shoulder. There was an old, architectural wooden gate that led straight to the interior of the monastery’s ground. Many small communities gathered as a way to become closer to the Church of Seiros. Past the villages and towns, the Officer’s Academy sat above the civilians. To the residents, this was a gift. To the teacher, this meant hope for human contact.

Glimmers of sweat formed on her forehead, the metallic armor she usually wears during battle beginning to rise in temperature. The instructor felt her eyebrow twitch. It was getting hot. Like, really REALLY hot.

‘ I really should get a move on. ’

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Oh, if those flocks of birds can give it a rest!

Byleth tensed her shoulders and glared at the source. The crows wildly cried out, their black wings flapping at similar intervals with their callings. They were so quiet before. What made them act up? Is it because they found her amusing? Or is she too boring of a subject for observation? She stiffened her dry lips when one of the six crows left the mass. This particular bird flew right in her direction.

‘ Oh no! ’

Alarmed, Byleth sidestepped. What she did not take into account after sidestepping was catching sight of the military. The small group of soldiers that appeared from the now-opened wooden gate were chattering with each other. There were five of them. One of them held onto the reins of a snow-white horse as four others respectively held lances and swords in their hands. Some laughed out loud, one nearly doubled over from the profound topic. Whatever cheery banter they had came to a screeching halt, per contra.

“...”

“?”

Upon closer inspection, Byleth noticed that they were from the Adrestian Empire.

‘ Edelgard… ’ Her eyes widen. ‘ Edelgard! ’

How lucky! Meeting up with these fellow comrades meant that she could reunite with the Black Eagles! Her students must be worried sick if she had been sleeping outside of her dormitory room, even more so outside of the Officer’s Academy! Edelgard might give her a good scolding, but that’s the least of her worries!

The professor’s stoic features faintly brightened as she approached the soldiers.

“Excuse me--”

“EEK!”

Byleth nearly tumbled forward and onto her face; she caught herself in the nick of time by flailing her arms. She whipped her head towards the source.

Lo and behold, it was one of the soldiers. He stood rigid and hugged his lance. Not that he was the only one who squealed like a little girl. The other four warriors blanched at the sight of the instructor. Byleth let out a weary sigh.

“I hope you understand that your reactions really hurt me.”

“STAY AWAY!”

“...hah?”

The ex-mercenary was not one for explicitly showcasing her emotions. She just can’t seem to break out any form of expressions beyond disappointment, shock, content, and the occasional cheeky smile. In this case, she bluntly expressed bewilderment. What is wrong with them? Just because she has difficulty in showing features doesn’t mean she looks like a horror show!

Before Byleth could request for information, the five soldiers aimed their weapons at the staff member.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry for doubting you!”

“I thought you died!”

“G-GHOST!”

“What should we tell the emperor!?”

“GO BACK, YOU FIEND!”

It was a discombobulated verbiage. Byleth could not even muster the energy to say something witty right back at them. Actually-- There was no need for wittiness. The teal-haired woman unsheathed her Sword of Creator and pointed it at them. This elicited another squeal from the same male; the tip of his weapon trembled violently.

“I don’t want to do this,” she murmured. “But you leave me with no choice.”

The entire fight sequence took less than a minute, to her surprise. Perhaps fear had gotten to their nerves as their stances were out of line. Simple dodge mechanics and closing in on them made their souls fly out of their body. Byleth also made sure to use the butt end of her handle to knock the stubborn ones out. If anything, her existence made them faint!

“...”

Out of all the conflicts she had witnessed and experienced, this one has to be the most embarrassing of them all. At least it made the traverse to the inner parts of the monastery easier. This was also made possible thanks to the horse that one of the soldiers had. Unlike the horse’s owner, this creature was indifferent with respect to the instructor.

“Hope you don’t mind me borrowing him,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’ll return the horse later.”

That was something she appreciates after the ruckus this day has become. Besides, there is not a moment to waste. She must hurry back to the Officer’s Academy and reunite with her students!

The trek from the outsider borders and into the community opened up to a setting she was familiar with. Villagers and merchants occupied the roads and houses. Domestic animals greeted Byleth with their barks and yelps. Foreigners from all parts of Fodlan were frequently spotted in the midst of small crowds. This revisitation alone almost made the professor forgive and forget the incident with the soldiers earlier that day.

However, something was amiss. As the black horse slowed his pacing, she overheard one of the local merchants.

“It’s already been five years, hasn’t it?”

“Ah, yes… Five years since the fighting with the three nations has started.”

A faint sigh came from the old woman. She adjusted her hold on the cane and shook her head at the female merchant.

“I hope this war can end soon. I’ve heard Lady Edelgard has gone mad since she lost someone.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just a rumor.”

Byleth nearly tore the rein from pulling it back so harshly. This caused the horse to lift his front hooves up and madly kick the air. Had the creature prolonged its posture for another second, the poor mentor would have fallen off of his back. The horse threw his head upward. Evidently, the mammal fidgeted on the spot. She loosened her hold on the reins and soothingly pat his neck.

‘ Five years… Five years?! And what war?! I don’t remember there being any conflict yesterday! ‘ The patting slowed to a stop. ‘ This is all a dream, isn’t it? ’

The woman retracted her hand. She proceeded to pinch her own cheek and pull on it. Pain shot up from the abrupt stretching of the epidermis. Byleth released it with watery eyes.

‘ This isn’t a dream. ’

Dread loomed over her head. Whatever burst of energy she had now trickled out rapidly. Byleth’s guts continuously pound against its own chest, bellowing of impending bad news. Her jawlines became prominent. So many questions boiled underneath her sturdy exterior. At any given moment, she might explode from the deadly force of her curiosity and confusion.

‘ ...I have to see my students. ’

Byleth flicked the reins and leaned forward, the horse galloping as fast as possible towards the tall structures.

Pristine conditions that were evident from the distance eroded its illusion the closer she got. Many of the stone blocks were blown to smithereens. Black marks discolored the once-wonderful and prestigious academy for the students and staff. It made Byleth wonder what her father, Jeralt, would say about the condition. (Not that he would have anything to say in the first place.) Maybe Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn would have had a stronger reaction towards this mess. The fact that the holy ground was stampeded all over by the force of bloodshed would be more than enough to make any devoted followers of Seiros wail for redemption.

At least the marketplace was spared, albeit the number of foreigners and refugees from other parts of the nations increased by tenfold.

“Halt!”

One of the soldiers at the main gate raised his hand. She immediately heeded to his motion and slowed the black creature. The horse tossed let out a small puff through his nostrils as the man approached the dismounted woman. His brown irises gazed upon Byleth’s. Then, his eyes widen.

“Wait… are you really…?”

“?”

She blinked.

“Oh, right! You must’ve forgotten about me already.” The man became bashful, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. A wide grin ran across his face as the helmet overshadowed his eyes. This was a complete contrast to his prior tonality; the deep voice erased with a higher pitch. “Please allow me to speak to you normally again.”

‘ Normally? What could he possibly mean? ’

The steel soldier saluted to Byleth.

“Greetings, Professor! I welcome you back to the monastery!”

“...Thank you.”

It was him, alright. The same fellow that had always greeted her since day one at the academy. Although military personnel were, overall, kind, none of them matched the level of generosity and sweetness as this man. His famous “Greetings, Professor!” always echoed in the back of her mind whenever she thinks of this particular soldier. Five years hardly did a number to his young features. Perhaps he had gotten more handsome instead? Byleth finds it an amusing thought to ponder about.

His smile lingered on his features as he lowered his hand.

“I knew you were alive! I’ve always had hopes that you would return to us.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

He scratched the side of his head.

“Don’t you remember? Five years ago, the Black Eagle Strike Force all witnessed your death at the hand of Lady Rhea… though I don’t know the details all too well since I wasn’t a part of that battle.”

“I’m still not following you.”

It sounds simple on paper, but when he reiterated the information, she simply responded with a blank stare.

Death? How in the world did that concept bear fruit? Unmistakably, Byleth is alive and well. The ex-mercenary curled and uncurled her fingers. Her sense of touch was still intact. She can perform basic arithmetic. Her memory hasn’t failed her so far, save it for her origin and real age. These were some of the traits that a deceased person wouldn’t retain. A dead person is anything but alive. There was also the mention of Rhea… The tactician held the side of her head. Just what does she have to do with Byleth’s lifeline?

“I could see that you’re still confused, Professor...”

“I am.”

“I suggest that you talk to the emperor about this. I’m sure Lady Edelgard will be pleased to hear of this news.”

Hearing her name caused Byleth’s heart to increase its thumping intensity. She placed a hand on her chest and formed a small smile.

“I will do that, then.”

Pleased with her answer, the gatekeeper allowed her to go through the main floors of the monastery. A step into the main floor garnered more attention than she needed. Many Adrestian Empire’s soldiers penetrated her vulnerable exterior with their piercing stares. Some became as white as a sheet. Some began to tremble at the sight of the professor. Others toughened their features. All of their reactions were anything but pleasant.

‘ If only more of them acted like the Gatekeeper. ’

Whispers of a ghost floated around her auditory organ. Uncertainty filled the atmosphere as she marched onward to the classrooms. She found herself standing inside one of them by the doorless entranceway. The sight of her assigned classroom for the Black Eagles still stood well after the supposed five years time gap. As for the other classrooms? Empty. Not a single soul existed in the Blue Lions and Golden Deers Houses.

Just where are the students? The premise should have never been this empty… unless they have all graduated? That was plausible since the students would have to leave the academy in pursuit of their own goals. Then again, there is also that war that was mentioned-- and Lady Rhea being the cause of her death.

Byleth cupped her own chin and lowered her head. There are too many outliers here, and she doesn’t have Sothis to confide to. She’s on her own. Her eyes narrowed. These questions and theories can’t go unanswered. Perhaps it would be best she shares this knowledge with the two people she trusts: Jeralt and Edelgard.

“Professor? Is that really you?”

Isn’t there a pleasant tinkle to that articulation. Byleth knew fully well who it was. She barely got the chance to turn around when Petra and Dorothea advanced to their mentor. The princess of Brigid gleamed and immediately reached out to grab ahold of her hand.

“Oh, Professor! How we miss you so much! I knew you were alive at all these times!”

They’ve changed so much. Both of them radiated in beauty as a blooming flower. It also appears that Dorothea had dropped the signature hat. (What a shame.) It was the warmth that she happily received. In spite of the fact that Byleth would want to contradict with her statement, the tears that flowed down her and Dorothea’s cheeks made her hold back her words. She merely nodded her head in silence.

“You know how worried you made us?” Dorothea used the back of her hand to wipe the teardrops. “When Edie told her that you died, I didn’t believe in her.”

“Yes. I am the same way too. Edelgard is wrong about that.”

“Whoa, what’s with the commotion. Both Lady Edelgard and I would like for you both to-- Teach?”

His long, luscious orange hair flowed naturally as he swooped into the room. Right next to Ferdinand, there was another familiar figure that Byleth would never mistake in her lifetime and the next. The two nobles hurried over to the small group of three. He glanced up and down at Byleth with stern features.

“Professor… is that really… you?”

That question is quite popular, isn’t it? Byleth resisted the urge to make a witty remark and, once again, nodded silently. Compared to the relief that washed over the two other females, Ferdinand crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“I do not wish to be rude, but I cannot find myself to believe that you are Byleth.”

“Ferdinand! That is extremely rude of you to say that!” Dorothea scolded. “The Professor, whom we believed was dead, is finally here with us! Isn’t that a miracle?”

“I find it hard to trust in that miracle, Dorothea. Just look at our Professor here. Don’t you find something odd about her?”

“That she doesn’t have bright green hair? Please. Physical trait can’t--”

“Dorothea, please listen to me. I cannot shake off this feeling that--”

“The professor had simply lost her power with Sothis.”

Byleth felt the regal woman’s armored hands touch her arms. Then, without warning, she embraced the teal-haired. The professor had already gotten used to hugs from Edelgard when she was young, but this one felt different somehow.

Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness.

Byleth let out a shaky exhale.

“Is that why I can’t hear Sothis anymore?”

“...yes.”

How in Fodlan did this Edelgard know about Sothis? Had she spoken to her about it previously?

“Five years have passed, and we all thought you were gone.” Edelgard parted from the hug, yet kept her hold on the older woman’s arms. She raised her head and fixated her eyes on Byleth’s. “How long I’ve waited for this moment for you to return…”

“...”

There was that five-year gap. Perhaps there were things that Byleth hadn’t remembered. Her instincts were itching to dive deeper into the logistics of that theory. Something told her that she needed to really explore that possibility. There was also the exploration of this five-year jump. So much has changed, and so much information has been left out for Byleth. She must play the catch-up game with the members of Black Eagles.

Nevertheless, that could wait. The Edelgard that stood in front of her is older and is in dire need of comfort. Byleth pulled Edelgard into another hug. With one hand holding her head, the professor pressed her lips on the top of the emperor’s head. If there were a few things that didn’t change, one of them was Edelgard’s sensitive and childish nature.

“I’m sorry I was gone for a long time.”

“All that matters is that you have returned to us, my teacher.”

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