Can we talk about Kian the seer?👉👈 (i hope I spelled his name correctly)
Idk that much about him, except that I read the introduction post for him, I know that he's the reason some of Aiden's moodboards have a deer on them, and i know that a long time ago you said something about him being Aiden's ghost mentor or something, but idk if that was a joke or notXD
(or I confused him with someone else 💀)
You didn’t misspell his name and you didn’t confuse him with someone else, don’t worry!
What exactly do you want to know about him? Cause when you read his intro post, you already know most of the things about him.
Kian was a Seer to the times of the first kings and queens. You know his story from the post I made about him.
The white stag mentioned there (that took him to the fae realm) and the white stag that, how you put it, is on Aiden’s moodboard are the same! The stag is to Kian what Kara is to Aiden.
Kian’s stag is part of the plot, in fact it is the very first thing we get introduced to after the Alderking, because Aiden dreams of it in the very beginning of chapter one.
I was not joking when I said he’s Aiden’s ghostly mentor. Well, I was half joking.
Because Aiden will meet him and he will learn something from his “ghost” but it’s not really Aiden getting training from a ghost but Aiden dreaming of Kian and talking to him in said dream.
25 notes
·
View notes
It was too good to be true anyway, he tells himself. It’s ok. This is the catch. He knew there would be one eventually.
But the thing is— there probably wouldn’t have been. Not if it weren’t for Ivy and her stupid tantrums and her stupid fucking pollen-
Doesn’t matter. It happened, Talon got tagged, and now they have to deal with it.
Talon cries out softly as Jason slips his hand away to pry away the loose board behind the tower and a moment later a pale hand takes the board from him and just— breaks it. Clean down the middle.
Idly, almost numbly, Jason notes that he’ll have to replace it later. Can’t have anyone else think this place is good for squatting.
Talon makes a pleased little chirrup in the back of his throat and suddenly there are hands under Jason’s knees, around his waist, and his brain short circuits and screams and whimpers but—-
Jason clamps his mouth shut.
It’s ok. He can do this.
— Owl Song pt. vii sneak peek
130 notes
·
View notes
⸻ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋. / @exilae
❝ ----- it’s a bit of a cruel choice of weapon, selina . ❞ but an adventurous one, nonetheless. the girl’s got a better sleight of hand than penny could ever 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊 to have, but she wasn’t incapable either ; tossing the thief’s weapon from hand to gloved hand. ❝ i could train you, you know ! give you my own personal tips and 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒 --- ❞ a girl’s day out, as hopeful as it is to possibly imagine something so regular occurring in this city. ❝ don’t you think that’d be fun ? ❞
2 notes
·
View notes
AziraCrow | Book Reading
(Scroll down for mini story vvvv) + (Companion Piece)
Aziraphale liked books, especially the old ones. They were the main reason for owning his bookshop, after all.
He loved reading them, too. Sitting quietly in the back of his bookshop with a good book and the occasional accompaniment of an old record made for quite the delightful evening, in his opinion. Despite his being handless (and therefore, fingerless), Aziraphale was perfectly capable of turning pages on his own. Not with his talons of course; Heaven only knew the trouble that would come from attempting to turn the aging and potentially fragile paper with such unreliable instruments. It would be a simple enough fix if a page did happen to tear, but the memory would haunt him forever. Instead, all it took was a flick of his wing and woosh, the pages would turn themselves. Sometimes he just had to ask nicely. However, there were times that he didn't need to expend the effort.
Those times just so happened to coincide with a particularly serpentine visitor.
Crowley's visits were irregular and not always predictable. Most of the time he would pop in to complain about Who-Knows-What and disappear off to Who-Knows-Where. Sometimes he would stay longer, and they would share a glass of wine or some other alcohol, chatting a lot about nothing and reminiscing about times long passed until the shadows grew long. On rare occasions they would sit in comfortable silence, doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company. Aziraphale would then pick a book to read and Crowley would slither over to join him.
Of course, Crowley didn't like reading - or at least claimed he didn't. 'Not worth his time,' he'd say dismissively. Still, he (bored expression and all) would come, make himself comfortable by coiling around both the book stand and Aziraphale, and just watch. Just about anyone on Earth would likely be uncomfortable being stared down by such an intense gaze, but not Aziraphale. Over the many millennia, he has grown used to being observed by those golden eyes. Dare he say, he even found it comforting in a way, but that was besides the point.
He wasn't sure how it started; perhaps Crowley found himself overly bored that day, but he began turning the book pages whenever Aziraphale raised his wing to compel them instead. It had started him at first, and he had looked to Crowley with much confusion, though the demon had nothing to say in return. He merely shrugged (or at least it could be considered the serpentine equivalent of a shrug) and turned away. A few more pages in, and he'd turn them again. This happened over and over until Aziraphale heaved a sigh gave in, allowing the serpent to do as he wanted. At first, it was quite awkward to give verbal cues, and there were times when he became so engrossed in his reading that he forgot entirely, but eventually they settled into a comfortable rhythm. Nowadays he didn't even bother. It had become almost automatic: Aziraphale would finish the page and it would turn, no questions asked.
Aziraphale suspected it would baffle the minds of many to see a demon treat anything so gently, yet Crowley turned the pages in such a way that they were never bent nor crumpled. In fact, it seemed to him that the older the book was, the gentler Crowley'd be. He seemed... 'content' was the wrong word to describe his attitude towards the activity, but he never said a word otherwise. At least, not to Aziraphale.
He never pointed this out, of course. Crowley would stop doing it if he did, and he didn't WANT him to stop. He enjoyed it too much.
Once in a blue moon, Crowley would make a comment about whatever Aziraphale was reading at the time. It was often snide, mocking, not always audible. Hisses of exasperation or an exaggerated eye roll were not uncommon either. Then he would turn away, bored despondence washing over his face, shutting down any attempts to further the conversation. Not that he would respond if Aziraphale did, though that hadn't stopped him from trying. On one occasion Aziraphale had tried to push the topic, only for Crowley to deflect, insisting that he had only glanced the passage at random. He stopped turning the pages then. Aziraphale never tried again and settled with only giving him sidelong glances when he said something particularly egregious.
And so they would read, the silence broken only by the ticking of an old clock and the occasionally rustle of a page.
...
Aziraphale liked his books.
He liked reading them alone in his bookshop.
But he liked them best when Crowley was there to turn the pages for him.
1K notes
·
View notes