#and even on its own merits it's just not that great of a story?
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I'm glad to see more and more ppl willing to admit that totk's story kinda sucks
#Like botw's story was basic but it WORKED with the open ended gameplay and how you have to piece it together#Totk tries to do the same with a more complex story and it doesn't work#The moving parts don't mesh together and it keeps tripping over itself#like WHY IS LINK JUST LETTING PPL RUN AROUND THINKING ZELDA'S TURNED EVIL EVEN IF HE ALREADY KNOWS SHE'S A DRAGON??#and even on its own merits it's just not that great of a story?#They hyped it up like this would be the best Zelda story ever and I struggle to think of one I'd say is worse
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Kaladin Didn’t Invent Therapy (And Why That’s Actually Great)
“...You need someone to talk to, Noril, when the darkness is strong. Someone to remind you the world hasn’t always been this way; that it won’t always be this way.”
“How do you … know this?” Noril asked.
“I’ve felt it,” Kaladin said. “Feel it most days.”
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy
I’m writing as someone with a background in psychotherapy and peer support, and I'm bursting with excitement about one of my favourite topics. You can imagine why I love Kaladin’s arc in Rhythm of War so much! I actually yelled out loud when I read some of these parts the first time.
I’ve seen people online saying and making jokes that Kaladin invents therapy, and while that could eventually be true, what Kaladin actually invented in RoW is mental health peer support. Psychotherapy as most people would understand it simply doesn’t exist yet on Roshar. However, peer support is a legitimate modality for healing on its own merits. Even more importantly for the story, peer support is something Kaladin would personally really benefit from, and it fits his narrative arc way better than therapy would.
1. Therapy as we know it won’t exist for a while yet.
“We need to study their responses, use an empirical approach to treatment instead of just assuming someone who has suffered mental trauma is permanently broken.”
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy
“Someone needs to talk to them, try different treatments, see what they think works. What actually helps.”
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy
Obviously, Kaladin has not been educated in battle shock or melancholia or any other diagnosis. In Alethkar there's hardly any knowledge to be had on the subject. Even now in real life, research into effective interventions for various diagnoses is still ongoing, over 100 years after modern therapy was founded.
Building an empirical knowledge base* will take time, not to mention the years it will take to train new therapists across Roshar in how to provide interventions specific to various issues. Therapy as we know it today generally includes time in mentorship with another therapist, so in a way, the first therapist isn't a therapist. 😅 In the meantime, there are people who need help today, including Kaladin.
Peer support can fill that gap because its knowledge base is different. Peers bring their expertise, which is their years of trial and error, successes and failures - their lived experience. Peer facilitators need to know the basics of managing a group, and they have to be willing to share their own experiences and learn from the group. Thus, training peer leaders is relatively quick, and incredibly scalable and adaptable across cultures and many issues/diagnoses.
2. Peer Support is a distinct path to recovery that doesn’t require an expert in therapy.
Kaladin located six men in the sanitarium with similar symptoms. He released them and got them working to support each other. He developed a plan, and showed them how to share in ways that would help...Today they sat in seats on the balcony outside his clinic. Warmed by mugs of tea, they talked. About their lives. The people they’d lost. The darkness.
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding
“While you can’t force it, having someone to talk to usually helps. You should be letting him meet with others who feel like he does.”
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 25, Devotary of Mercy
Kaladin is already positioning himself to align with the values of peer support. Some of these values overlap with therapy, such as dignity, respect, inclusion, hope, and trust. What makes peer support different is a particular emphasis on equal relationships, self-determination, and personal growth (Peer Support Canada, 2022).
In peer support, the group facilitator is not considered an authority like a therapist would be. A peer leader may be further on the road to recovery, but they may not be. They are expected to listen and grow just like any other group member.
Because the leader of the group is also a learner, peer support groups tend to be more collaborative and open-ended. Everyone in the group has something they can take out of it and something to give. Everyone in the group is responsible for managing their own self care, and everyone in the group is responsible for the direction of their own growth. This is different from most therapy groups, which often have a specific focus or goal that the therapist is responsible for implementing. And speaking of responsibility...
3. Peer Support Fits Kaladin’s Narrative Arc Better than Therapy
At his father’s recommendation—then insistence—Kaladin took it slowly, confining his initial efforts to men who shared similar symptoms. Battle fatigue, nightmares, persistent melancholy, suicidal tendencies.
-Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding
…he’d learned—these last few months—that his battle shock could take many forms. He was getting to where he could confront it.
-Rhythm of War, Ch. 39 Invasion
I think everyone can agree that Kaladin needs to participate in therapy just as much as the other battle-shocked men he finds in the Devotary of Mercy.
However, in therapy, the focus is solely on the needs of the clients. A therapist should not be distracted by their own issues (when this happens, it’s called countertransference). Further, therapy is generally framed such that the therapist is the only expert in the room, which means therapists have a higher level of responsibility for how the clients are doing (which varies depending on the issue, the therapy modality, and the circumstances).
In his own recovery, Kaladin is working on trying to take less responsibility for others, so setting him up as a therapeutic authority could be harmful for him. In a position of authority, he might be tempted to replicate the hierarchical structure he was in before (which would impede his own growth), or try to save everyone (which could impede everyone's growth). He simply doesn’t have the mentorship or knowledge base he'd need to work through those issues before leading as an expert.
In contrast, the point of peer support is the mutual sharing of lived experience. The group facilitator is expected to share their own struggles (as a model of recovery), and allow others to support them. In the context of a more balanced power dynamic, Kaladin can give the other group members the space they need to grow, and he can pursue his own recovery without feeling like he’s letting others down. Also, he will be able to leave the group during KOWT without worrying that the group won't be able to run without him. Everyone in the group carries some responsibility for each other, so group members can come and go with less stress than a change in therapist would cause in group therapy.
This is the beauty of peer support. It can happen anywhere people with similar experiences get together. No formal education is required. What is required is a willingness to know yourself as well as you can; to share your experiences; to listen to others tell their stories; to question your own assumptions as you learn how others handle things differently; to look out for each other's safety; to care.
Peer support creates a place of belonging and a community repository of shared wisdom. Kaladin almost had it on Bridge Four, but his position of authority wouldn’t allow him to grow the way he needed. Peer support is what Kaladin needs - he needs a place where he can take off his armour among people who get it because they're struggling with similar issues, and without having a position of responsibility over them. When he (eventually**) attends the groups, they help him grow!
Anyway, that's why Kaladin didn’t invent therapy, and why I think that's great.
For the men chatting together softly, the change was in being shown sunlight again. In being reminded that the darkness did pass. But perhaps most important, the change was in not merely knowing that you weren’t alone—but in feeling it. Realizing that no matter how isolated you thought you were, no matter how often your brain told you terrible things, there were others who understood.
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding
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*Funny enough, empirical research could lead Rosharan researchers right back to peer support. Empirical research on Earth has shown that modern therapy and peer support have similar levels of effectiveness (for example, for depression and PTSD).
**Look who’s resisting attending the groups he founded…KALADIN!! (shakes fist in the general direction of the sky) (This is the most relatable passage for me in this whole book, by the way, helper types unite lmao):
Kaladin looked down at the table. Had it? Had talking to Noril helped?
“He’s been avoiding joining in,” Teft said.
“I haven’t,” Kaladin snapped. “I’ve been busy.”
Teft gave him a flat stare. Storming sergeants. They always heard the things you weren’t saying.
- Rhythm of War, Ch. 38 Rhythm of the Terrors
Peer Support Canada. (2022). Peer Support Core Values. Accessed from https://peersupportcanada.ca/ Jun 27, 2022.
#I shared this on reddit a while ago but it got archived so here#enjoy#this is not an april fools thing this is just bad timing on my part#kaladin stormblessed#rhythm of war#row spoilers#kaladin didn't invent therapy#peer support#stormlight archive#the stormlight archive#stormlight essay#stormlight meta#god i love kaladin so much
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I gotta ask this has been rattling in my brain for a while.
How did your DU drow react when Astarion asked him for help with the ritual? What were his thoughts? Or was he simply like stop it, no, we aren't doing that.
OH, How did you picture your Astarion and DU Drow react after he "died" and was brought back? I know that we don't really get that much dialogue or reaction from the companions when that happens (Praying they add something later down the line in another patch)
Again thank you for sharing your beautiful art and fanfic with all of us its so refreshing to see!!! :)
OHOHOHO I'm glad you asked. I feel like that first question is very revealing of DU drow's character and It was a fun moment to ponder upon, because I think much of his behavior might lead one to believe he would be willing to go along with whatever Astarion wants, instead of pushing back at all, at least on the surface.
There's two factors at play here - first, DU drow knows of his heritage at that point, and thanks to the blank-slate treatment of the tadpole he's gotten a brand new perspective on it by the time he learns of the truth. Prior to losing his memories, accepting the fate that Bhaal had bestowed onto him felt like a choice and the best thing that ever happened to him in life, a confirmation that he was special and destined for greatness instead of just damned to the lowly existence he had endured so far. After his brain is scrambled however, DU drow got a taste of what true freedom feels like while unburdened by his upbringing; he's strong, he's powerful, he's self-sufficient, he enjoys the fruits of his labor without appreciating what got him here - he does not feel like he needs Bhaal, and the fact he ever did is laughable at best and violating at worse. This leads him to abhor the idea of depending on higher power to succeed instead of just raising oneself up by their own merits, or abiding by any mentality where you take orders from a source.
So when Astarion speaks of ascension, and especially after he learns of the source of that power (Infernal magic) he's disillusioned by it. While his memories are still hazy, the situation still feels awfully familiar to him. He doesn't think Astarion needs that higher power because he doesn't, either, and to take it would surrendering to fear and giving away even more of his autonomy than he already has.
And if that sounds a little self centered and like he's missing some of the point, it's because he is. While DU drow has fallen in love with Astarion by that stage in the story and wants what's best for him (he actually entertains the idea of him ascending up to a point - he wants him to be happy) he still has a difficult time empathizing with others. Ascending feels like a bad choice, but he can only justify that feeling from his own, narrow perspective.
(I mused on about characterization for too long again. So more under the cut - the sky is blue the sun is hot etc.)
Then there's the uglier, far more vulnerable and knee-jerk reaction to it. Now that Bhaal is no longer his purpose in life or the gift he once felt it to be, Astarion has taken it's place. Bhaal needed DU drow, in his eyes, much like Astarion does now. And as much as the vampire might have told him that his feelings on the matter changed (and that he was no longer manipulating DU drow for his own ends alone) he can't fathom a reason to be kept around unless he continues to be needed. He has slotted himself as Astarion's protector and devotee, and a vampire lord does not sound like they need much of either.
As much as he would never admit to it, DU drow does not know a life where he doesn't pledge himself, body and soul, to another purpose. He seems like he's happy to barrel through life directionless, but he needs something that anchors him or he has an inexplicable feeling that something terrible will happen. And honestly, maybe he's right - for a man who loves killing, he has a much easier time applying some strategy to that desire as long as he's doing it to some an specific end. Without Astarion, he probably feels like his choices are to either submit to his hedonism entirely or just lie down and die.
I don't need to spell out that this is pure codependency at it's finest.
So, when Astarion asks for help to complete the ritual he is conflicted. He wants to do whatever Astarion wants, but his brain is setting off alarm bells that, if he acquiesces, this will be the end for them and for him. And whatever comes after is a terrifying void of nothing. While he loves Astarion and ultimately does the right choice in pleading with him to give up on this power, his motivations are far from selfless or pure, as much as DU drow may not yet realize it.
This is why, after everything takes place, and specially once he severs his connection to Bhaal and his mind clears a little further, DU drow would go on to grapple with a lot of guilt for taking this opportunity away from Astarion, as I have touched on in the fic and will continue to do so. He's happy to feel like he has a reason to be kept around, but the inevitable hurdles that Astarion must continue to face as a spawn are obviously painful to witness. This is why he dives full force into trying to "fix" his vampirism instead, following that.
NOW, FOR THE NEXT AND HOPEFULLY FAR BRIEFER ANSWER TO YOUR OTHER QUESTION (spoiler alert, it's not brief at all, god damn it):
Yeah everyone just standing around in that scene feels little weird LOL not that it took away too much from how dope a cutscene it was (I probably watched it with the attentiveness of a sport's fan witnessing a footbal game turning in the last 10 minutes of a match) but If I were to embellish it instead of just going with something like "everyone is shell-shocked and paralyzed", I would say Shadowheart is the first to rush over to see if there's anything at all she can do to help, and probably the first (and only, in that moment) to break down crying. I think she very quickly composes herself after he's brought back, tells him he gave her the scare of a fucking lifetime and that he's the luckiest idiot in all of the realms - but that she's glad he's back. No hugs for him though LOL
Astarion is pretty much the opposite, that he would stand there in shock feels kind of apt to me. Like, holy shit, what just happened? Did one of the only good things in my life really just get taken away in the blink of an eye? Am I just cursed to have everything snatched away from my hand as soon as I'm growing comfortable with it? Yes, of course I am. What else did I expect. When DU drow pops back up he's probably like "Oh yeah I knew it'd be fine" (plus the little Twee comment, that was very funny to me.) and DU drow is similarly going "Oh definitely, it was my plan all along to be killed and then resurrected by an ominous house-keeper skeleton this whole time. Anyway, smooch for a dead man?"
This... Clearly very traumatic little incident is probably addressed by them only later. He gets a kiss and a hug at camp and a very stern "if you do that shit again I'm raising you back up just to kill you myself" from Astarion and Shadowheart's just down to drink in celebration and drown her trauma away for now lmao.
OH YEAH AND GALE WAS ALSO THERE. There was a whole Gale debacle in my playthrough but, the TL;DR, is that especially towards the end of the game he was Not in the best of terms with DU drow. Still, I obviously think he's an empathetic person and had his own "oh shit" moment. I'd say he takes this opportunity to try extending a very sincere hand out to him later that day, both for his courage in defying a god and dumb-luck - which DU drow completely passes on like an asshole and just gives him a cold-shoulder about, leaving feeling even more dejected than he already was and probably further cementing his choice to pursue the crown of Karsus later, despite DU drow's disapproval. Good job buddy!
Thank you so much for the ask and for your lovely compliments!!! Sorry for writing you a dang ESSAY 😬
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DEAR READER | C.L 16 (FOUR)
Pairings: Charles Leclerc X Intern!OC
Warnings: Google translated French, degrading headline, people who don’t mind their own business
Note: There’s a reason I’m dragging the fuck out of this story. It’s gonna be worth it, I promise !!!!
❝Dear reader,
If it feels like a trap, you’re
already in one ❞
THE BRILLIANT ILLUMINATED ELEVATOR cradled through the rapidly infectious tension in Natalia’s bloodstream. The gap between her and the equally as anxious Monegasque caused the ongoing brawl in their heads to amplify. She glanced down at the carpeted flooring, casually shifting her gaze to the shuffling feet of her company.
She let her thoughts wonder somewhere else, opting to think about the disastrous path they had to conquer in order to acquire the tranquility they have at the moment. Although, her trembling hands and the intensive battering of her chest generated the thought that perhaps road raging in Charles’ Ferrari to avoid the prying eyes of the general public provided a greater deal of enjoyment than this.
“I was thinking,” Charles spoke, moistening his drought lips. “Since it’s your first time here in Netherlands, I’d like you to try authentic Dutch dishes from the restaurant the team took me to last year.”
Natalia nodded, half of her mind floating into a dreamless space. “That sound great,” She faced him, hoping to defy the rising tide of her anxiety. “I honestly didn’t know anything about Dutch culture until I did a quick research about their food.”
Charles didn’t contain his smile, finally looking at the brunette. His gaze journeyed to her luscious naturally straight chestnut locks, previously tied into a neat ponytail but was now released from the gathered style, falling graciously passed her shoulders.
He snapped back into his regular self as he reached the line of her eyes. Immediately saving himself as he followed up on her statement. “Oh? And what did you find?”
Charles despised the way she’d tuck her bottom lip in her every time she needed a second to gather her thoughts. Couldn’t she just think like a normal person?
“Apparently, there’s this food called Profferjes?” She struggled pronouncing the supposed name given to the delicacy she was referring to.
Charles’ face brightened in amusement at her confused appearance but he nevertheless, nodded, having an idea of what she was talking about.
“The mini pancakes?”
Rhapsody laved across her once perplexed expression, pointing a finger at his direction before confirming his guess.
“Yes! That one— but I think they only serve them in the morning,” She sighed, eyes lingering at Charles. A sudden concept bubbled in her mind, showing in her face as a small simper.
The judgement was also beginning to bloom on Charles’ face as he took note of the naught sparkle in Natalia’s orbs.
“Unless— you know—” She drawled her words, making the smile on the receiver of her antics widen. “Charles Leclerc were to call in—”
He disintegrated into a pile of frenzy at that. Clutching his stomach as his laughter, joined in by Natalia’s own, bounced uncontrollably against the four walls of the enclosed space.
“I’m not sure they’d do their beloved Max Verstappen’s rival a favor.” He acknowledged.
“Oh—right.” Natalia had completely forgotten that Max was Dutch. She knew Charles meant it as a joke but the harsh reality seemed to have overtaken its intended merits.
Then again, she was quick to dispel the impending depressive state. “You know, according to my research, Dutch people are very friendly even if they like speak their mind . . .”
An appreciative hum sounded at the back of Charles’ throat, thankful for her efforts of comfort and the ding of the elevator that indicated their arrival to his floor.
In an unconscious move, he reached for Natalia’s hand, grasping it gently in his. To which the latter responded by gawking at him while they both stalked through the nicely lit corridor.
Charles’ room was two doors away from the very last one, and when they arrived, he tapped in his key card, never seeming to have the intention of releasing the chilling palm that rested in his hold.
As the door opened, along with the grating creak of the door was the heightening of Natalia’s senses. The fresh scent of lavender infiltrated the previous musing scouring at her wits.
She inhaled the saving grace of her sanity, finding the soothing aroma also matched the overall aesthetic of his room.
The fuzzy brown carpet at the center of the room adorned the flooring, to which an oval glass coffee table was placed
“Sit wherever you want,” He said, freeing her hand. “Make yourself feel comfortable.”
As he started to walk away, Natalia bent down balancing her weight with her hand on the doorframe as she untied the laces of her boots.
Charles turned to her, hearing the sudden rustling. “You don’t have to take your shoes off,”
She immediately halted her actions, eyebrows wrinkled at the absurdity of all that. “There’s no way I’m stepping my shoes on a carpet,”
The crease in her eyebrows worsen at that thought of her mother. She could almost see the utter disgust on her face when she finds out Europeans don’t particularly care for what she called “unknown bacteria” spreading through their home.
She set her boots aside, plopping on the pearl colored seating. “My mom would’ve strangled you if she heard you say that,”
Her remark made Charles chuckle, shaking his head on his way to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Depends.” She thought, reaching for a magazine on the coffee table. “What are you having?”
Natalia heard a series of cabinet creaking followed by clinks of what she assumed was glass.
“Well, of you’re craving something sweet, I have orange juice and iced tea,” He replied, peaking his head on the doorframe.
Charles took in the sight of Natalia’s wandering eyes on his apartment, ignoring the sudden pang of nervousness creeping up on him.
The curious girl whipped her head towards his waiting figure, lips pursing with a uncaring shrug. “I’m good with that. But if you want to drink something. . . stronger, I wouldn’t judge.”
She watched the chuckle bloom out of Charles’ relaxed features, before disappearing back into the kitchen.
While he was arranging beverages, Natalia reviewed what he had observed from his apartment.
Firstly, she found it surprising that he owned a living space in this country. Him always hopping on a jet to different countries every week, defeats the purpose of buying one. It didn’t look like he used it often either.
It had one of those minimal modern designs. Like the ones she’d see whenever she was at Summit Furniture, a furniture store she frequented at in Monaco. She currently sat on a white polyester loveseat with tapered rosewood legs that angled outwards. It all seemed like they’ve just been bought yesterday. No scratches on the wooden legs nor flaws in the fabric seating. Same goes for the rest of his furniture that she had seen so far.
The television looked like it had yet to serve its purpose and the tables be marked with any stain or evidences of usage.
Her deep observation caused a barricading and tension within her sense. The unbelievable tidiness and perfection of her surroundings made her more conscious of her actions.
“Here we are!” Charles’ unforeseen appearance rattled her core, prompting her to sit up straighter. He had brought a tray of various drinks.
Natalia eyed the colorful liquids in different types of glasses. Some in one in a high ball, champagne and cocktail glass. Beside those were a bottle of Heineken and Jenever.
She bit the inside of her cheek, trapping the laughter threatening to pull through, settling for a supportive nod.
“I’m guessing this is the orange juice?” She plucked the high ball glass from the tray, a teasing smile adorning her face.
“Yes, it is,” Charles took out his phone, the unwavering nerves still present in his veins. “I know I said I’ll order for you, but here’s the menu, you might see something you like—”
She raised his hands, shaking her head. “Trust me, the only food I’m sure are gonna be are Stroopwafel and those ball shaped snack I ate at the paddock. Besides, I’m not picky with food, I’ll swallow anything you give me.”
Charles’ thumbs stopped their typing, his lips thinning at the intrusive thought in his head.
Anything, huh?
“You’re disgusting—”
“I didn’t say—”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to! It’s written all over your face!” Natalia growled, motioning to the idiotic smirk hanging of his face across her.
“Think what you want,” Charles chimed, resuming his attention to his device. “That’s what I’m doing anyway hmpf—”
A soft object suddenly collided at his face, laughing as he realized that Natalia had thrown a pillow at him.
He removes it from obstructing his view, glancing up at the glowering figure in front of him, now bringing her lips close to the tall glass of juice.
“Give the phone. . .” She said, extending her arm forwards for Charles to pass her the device.
He hands it to her, inclining his body towards her. “I personally love Hachee, it’s meat with mash potatoes and gravy—”
“Frog legs!”
Charles stopped talking, staring stupidly at her exclamation. A wide smile plastered on her face as she turned the phone towards him and pointed to the certain dish.
“You eat frogs?” Charles didn’t mean for it to sound condescending, but the overpowering shock at this discovery halted all sense of thinking.
“Yeah? And?” At her defensive tone, Charles quickly held his hands up, waving them at her.
“No! That’s not what I mean!” He scratched the back of his head, hoping to ward away the embarrassment of his mistake. “I-I just mean, you’re the first girl I’ve met who’s actually excited to eating frogs,”
Natalia raised an eyebrow at Charles. “That can’t be true, frogs are eaten a lot in Manaco,”
“Doesn’t mean everybody likes them,” Charles remarked, taking the bottle opener from the table before twisting it on a Heineken beer.
Natalia watched him take a sip, crossing her arms at his statement. “You mean to say— of all the Monegasque girls you’ve dated— not a single one ate frogs?”
Charles felt amusement trickling at his through as he spotted the doubt on her face. “Well, I did let them try it.” He restored. “But they either pretended to like it or just straight up told me, quite frankly that they’d rather eat dirt.”
Natalia lights up at that, bringing her hands together in an mirthful clap. “At least some were honest about it,”
Charles nodded, glancing up at her as he began to wonder wether or not he should consume more alcohol to gain the courage to ask her questions that may be deemed too personal. Threading lightly on the subject, he reached for the Daquiri, giving in to its undeniable seductive calling.
“Is it a common food in the Philippines?” He asked, eyes traveling to the curvature of her expression.
Natalia’s lips disconnected from the cold glass rim, licking away the numbness spreading through her mouth. “Not exactly all over the country, but in my province, we do eat it a lot,” A mirror of nostalgia passes by her eyes, slotting in the depths of her memories.
Charles observed as she spaced out, blankly staring at the wooden coffee table. Instead of snapping her out of her trans, he waited patiently for her to regain her train of thought.
Blinking rapidly, the fog of her brain slowly disappeared, a large intake of breath released from her lungs before she cleared her throat.
As she craned her neck back to the person she was talking to, her heart lurched at her throat at the intensity of his stare. His eyes were drowned in unbelievable intent, as if she’d disappear if he was to look away.
“Let’s play that game again,” He said, softly.
“What?”
“That game in the car. 20 questions,” He clarified, tilting his head at her, “I want to play it again.”
Dread filled her mind, mouth beginning to ache, along with the slight tremble of her voice. “Why?”
“We’re going to spend a lot of time together,” He pointed out. “I’ve know you for quite a while but I don’t know anything about you. . .”
“There’s nothing to know,” She huffed, eyebrows coming together in a pinch. “My life isn’t interesting in the slightest.”
Charles narrowed his eyes at her, careful not to overstep. “I’ll ask basic questions then,”
She scrunched her face up at him. “Like what?”
With his eyes on her, he shrugged. “How did you end up in Monaco?”
“That’s not—” She sighed, pulsing her palms into an alternating clench. Her hands came up to snatch the beer off the table, taking a large gulp of it.
This was not a good idea from the start but then again, she made no complaints about it either.
Setting the bottle down with a loud clank, she tuts at his waiting figure. “I applied for the scholarship grant, almost failed the final interview, found out I didn’t, and— lo and behold, I’m here.”
The vagueness of her answer made Charles roll his eyes. “You almost failed? Why?” He questioned.
Natalia frowned at him, wagging her finger up at his line of vision. “No—no, it’s my turn,”
Charles sighed, defeated, downing a shot of tequila as the former thought of her first question. “Who’s your favorite sibling?”
Taken aback, he smiled at her random choice of words. “I don’t have one,”
His answer was met by a judgmental glance. “Boo! Everybody has one. Come on!”
Hesitation reeled him in with the desire to end thos query immediately. So, with all the shame warped into a giant ball in his heart. Je all but murmured a name.
“Sorry, say that again?” He could practically feel the teasing smirk on her face as she neared her ear on his mouth.
His eyes fluttered close, amusement and annoyance dancing at his veins. “I said, Arthur—”
She laughed, finding his imminent torture to have soothe her pounding heart. “Don’t feel bad, it’s pretty obvious anyway,”
At that, Charles didn’t indulge in her usual provocative style. Instead, thwacking her back with another personal question.
“What do your parents to for a living?”
She coughed, the sharp taste of alcohol pricking at her throat as it violently drew back to her nose.
“Are you okay?” The concern etched visible at the lines of Charles’ face as he stood up to hand her a tissue. He sat next to her, plucking more out of the box as she attempted to stop the liquid pouring out from her nostrils.
She gratefully took the tissue from him, blowing her nose into it. She would’ve found it embarrassing as she heard the disgusting noise it made as she emptied her now stinging nose of the culprit if it weren’t for her spinning mind.
She wiped her jeans, trying to play it cool as she responded. “My parents— My mom was an accountant and my dad— he. . . used to trade oil.”
Charles peaked onto her face, wiping of the remnants of beer on her cheek. “What’s wrong with that?”
Natalia swallowed the painful block of her throat, hand coming up to where he had his on her face. “Nothing. . . I-it’s not their jobs. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask about my parents.”
“We—”
The loud ringing of a phone interrupted their conversation. Natalia felt the vibration in her bag before she realized it was hers.
This dispelled the heavy ambiance of the atmosphere, waking the occupants from their trance.
Oh shit, Natalia thought as she saw the caller’s name flash on her phone.
Nicolas Todt
As soon as she pressed the green button signifying her death, the device was gone, only to be taken by the tutting Monegasque beside her.
She immediate shuffled up, desperately trying to get the phone out of his grip. It was too late, however, as he stood up at the sound of his manager’s voice.
Deflating in defeat, Natalia hopelessly smothered her head on the soft cushion’s of the couch.
“Hello?”
“What are yo— Hello? Charles? Is that you?”
Natalia winced at the pure hostility in Nicolas’ tone. Even after figuring out that the taker of the call was indeed his well-loved client, it didn’t quell the scorching heat of his flaming outrage.
“Oui c'est moi. Quoi de neuf?” Yes, it’s me. What’s up?
In contrast to Charles’ collected attitude, Natalia could feel her insides churning slowly into a blob of mush. Her only wish was for Charles not to ruin this job for her was beggining to whither away with the his careless actions.
“Quoi de neuf?” What’s up? Nicolas echoed, his sharp scoff going through the phone’s speaker and stabbing Natalia directly in the deepest part of her chest.
“Vous n'avez pas vérifié votre téléphone?” He spat, as it were acid poured on his tongue.
At the word phone, Natalia’s head shot up from the condoling compressor of her resting place, panicking as she searched for her phone.
The cumulus fog accumulating her head, clouded the clarity of her thinking, making her forget that someone else had possessed the thing she was looking for.
Charles nodded along to the string of profanities Nicolas kept rambling through his ear, shifting her attention to the frightened girl on his couch. Her heightened vigilance evident as trembling her hands patted wildly along his furniture.
He aided her frantic movements with a soft brush of his hand on her cheek, tapping his thumb on her paled skin.
Natalia whipped her head around to face him, breathing out of sigh of relief as she followed his finger pointing to his phone.
Wasting no time, she snagged it off the table, nearly shoving it on Charles’ face when it demanded a passcode after failing the face recognition system.
Charles careened his head backwards to avoid the object barreling into his face.
Natalia waited, anxiously fiddling with the stitchings of her clothing, as the daunting atmosphere worsened every second that passed by.
She almost tore Charles’ entire arm from his body by the vast amount of force she exerted at him. Quickly tapping on Google app, her hands shook as they hovered over the keys, thoughts failing to conjure words she needed.
“Charles Leclerc girlfriend. . .” A whisper came next to her.
She gritted her teeth at the awful joke. Perhaps as knew it wasn’t an impossible headline. It dawned to her the severity of their offense as she typed his name on the search bar.
It appears that her groan of indignation was loud enough for Nicolas’ ears as Natalia heard his mocked version of it despite being on Charles’ space.
“Did you see it?” Nicolas queried, his tone unreadable.
Natalia turned the screen to Charles’ vision. And the idiot had the audacity to laugh.
Merely hacking into his balled fist, the presence of his teeth behind his lips irritated both Nicolas and Natalia.
In disgustingly big letters, the headline read:
Natalia swiped at the screen, ticking her brow in victory as the smile drained visibly off his face at what she had shown.
“Now, that’s not funny. . .”
You don’t say. . .” She gritted, padding a hand on her chest to feign shock.
Charles offered her an apologetic pat on the head of the sneering girl. The latter slapped his hand away, force firm but not enough to do any harm.
Natalia could hear the faint murmurs of Nicolas before his voice was amplified by Charles’ simple tap of the speaker phone.
“Listen, both of you,” He commended. “Gossip magazines aren’t exactly fond of what ever it is you’re doing.”
“I am so sorry—”
“You are not.” The dripping venom in his tone made Natalia flinch back, leaning away from the source of his voice as if he were to pop out of the screen. “I don’t know what you were both thinking but luckily social media loved your little rendezvous.”
Silence fell between the scolded individuals, eyes creeping up to see the other’s reaction. Like staring directly at a mirror, they alined body language that could only be read as confusion.
“So. . . That means?” Natalia trailed, leveling her vocals in light of steering clear of another possible volcanic eruption from Nicolas.
“It means. . .” Nicolas pressed, annoyance still present. “You have to continue your. . . what you call it?”
Natalia listen intently as Nicolas asked someone for the word he was searching for. “The what? Oh— yes that. . . Your situationship.”
“Ew no!” Natalia’s extreme protest was met with sheer bewilderment on Charles’ part, struggling to process the meaning of the foreign term.
“What is that? What’s a situationship?”
At his question, Natalia stirred back to him, giving him a look of disbelief. Nicolas on the other hand simply clicked his tongue, sighing brfore supplying the answer to his client.
“They’re two people who have no sense of direction regarding their relationship.” He explained, and though he cannot see the expression on Charles’ face, he knew very well what it was.
“Is that a bad thing?”
Natalia’s jaw slackened, palm slapping on his forehead. And although she knew Nicolas’ explanation of situationship was a fairly watered down version of the real deal, she didn’t have the strength to further Charles’ knowledge on the subject.
Nicolas ignored his question. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. I advise you to not step out of that building until daylight.”
Natalia’s eyes widened at that. “What? You want me to stay here?”
“Certainly.” He concluded.
Sensation drained completely from her body. The electric feeling of lacking blood, slowly spread in an infectious manner. With it, the chill of reality came to set in.
“I’ve already informed Toto of the situation.”
As if it wasn’t enough, after hearing that, the lavender scent of the atmosphere that was thought to have the a calming effect seemed impotent, in comparison to the vigorous hold this ghastly chain of anxiety had on her.
Of all the things she feared, the idea of disappointing Toto Wolff and Susie Wolff was an absolute nightmare. How could she face the people who gave her the opportunity of a life time if she were to do dim-witted things like this?
In the midst of her internal battle, her head stirred to the cause of her misbehavior. He just so happened to be looking at her as well.
Unlike the pointed glare she blatantly jabbed into his face, Charles offered her a worried glance that could bloom flowers on his pretty little head.
Despite her scornful demeanor, she couldn’t shake away the guilt of being in this position. She was aware that it wasn’t Charles’ fault alone but perhaps putting all the blame in him would ease her desire to simply jump on a boat and abandon everything she ever dreamed in her life.
Natalia recoiled at the sudden warmth on her arm. Look towards the source, she relaxed at the sight of Charles’ hand on her skin.
He had ended the call, sitting back down on his previous place. “How do you want to do this?”
Natalia heaved a heavy sigh, afraid that the force might collapse her lungs. “I honestly can’t think of anything else but being fired. . .”
Charles took her hand in a grip that he could only hope held the comfort he was trying to induce. “You won’t. I’m the reason you’re here. I’ll talk to them.”
“You better. . .” She huffed, shoving a strong palm at his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look my classmates in the eye when I have to go back to University, though.”
“When do you have to go back?” He asked.
“In three days. We have to submit a report every two weeks regarding our performance.” She expounded, thinking about the sour look on her headmaster’s face at the sight of his achingly popular student walking in her office.
“Well, in that case, you can say that you helped me increase my fanbase by 2% in just three weeks.” Charles tried to provide a consolation.
Natalia hummed, lips curling as she was reminded of that information. “You make it sound like I’m a one-man team. . .” She shook her head.
She was sure that Charles’ PR team wouldn’t appreciate her taking all the credit for the improvements in the Ferrari driver’s personal accounts.
“Probably not. But most of it was your idea.”
It was intended to aid the boisterous voices crowding the little space left in her brain that wasn’t consumed by the nauseating noise of failure but alas proved to be ineffective as she abruptly stood up and took her phone from Charles’ lap.
Tapping the number she knew would cover the gaping hole of fear continuously scraping at her brain.
She watched as her phone started ringing, the name of her partner in crime flashing on the screen.
Lissie
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#f1 x reader#f1#charlos#ferrari#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x oc#charles leclerc x y/n#landoscar#charles leclerc smut
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This isn’t really a fully formed thought or anything. But it’s interesting how Sansa, Jon, and Lyanna specifically factor into one of GRRM’s greater explorations on the merits of fantasy. More specifically, there is a common trope that connects these three characters: a princess locked in a tower transforming into a valiant knight/hero. Lyanna and Jon, for starters, are pretty obvious explorations of this. Lyanna is the reconstructed version of this classic trope especially as presented through Arthurian tradition; but the twist here is that the dragon/knight who “locks” her in the tower isn’t actually evil and she isn’t so much kidnapped but rather willingly chooses to go there with him. This princess in a tower directly results in the birth of the hidden prince trope, which is even older than Arthur. So one fantasy classic, Rhaegar and Lyanna, leads to another with Jon being Arthur (a hidden prince and destined king), Percival (a hero who grows up in obscurity but has a great destiny to save the land), and Galahad (a noble hero destined to be even greater than his father, Rhaegar/Lancelot, ever was) all at once.
This princess dies in the tower…but her spirit/ghost lives on through her son, who grows up to look and act just like her, eventually becoming the valiant hero you read in the stories (but again, a de/reconstructed version). Part of how Jon does this is by repeating Lyanna’s actions as the valiant “knight” protecting an innocent from bullies. So by making it out of that tower even though his mother didn’t, Jon becomes the survival and rebirth of the fantasy ideal. You could even make the argument that just because Lyanna died doesn’t mean fantasy died as well because it lives on through Jon, her son. And this is actually is aided by Lyanna’s pleading for her son’s life, so she has some agency in how fantasy is preserved in the same way she had agency in how it’s perpetuated when she protected Howland Reed and when she ran off with Rhaegar. The princess living on and becoming the hero/knight in the stories is thus taken on by two characters here: Lyanna and Jon, mother and son. Jon goes even further into the Arthurian-knight playbook by encountering and eventually killing another vicious bully, Janos Slynt, who was coincidentally had a hand in his father’s demise. Then enter princess in the tower 2.0, Sansa Stark.
Sansa is an interesting case because she’s not martial in the way Lyanna and Jon are. But she too encounters her fair share of knights and villains. Janos Slynt is one of them, and Littlefinger will be another. I’ve talked about this before but Jon becoming the valiant hero Sansa wished for is important because it directly plays into GRRM’s reconstruction and (imo) defense of the ideals of fantasy. It’s not so much that heroes don’t exist - they actually do. They just might be far away, or might be the ones you’d never expect. This is the opposite of the “fantasy is dead, stop believing because everything sucks” reading you might see in some sections of the fandom. This moment may not end up meaning much for Jon and Sansa and their relationship, but it means a lot to us readers who are audiences of GRRM’s conversations with the genre and his arguments for its appeal. But that’s not the only interesting thing because Sansa, unlike Lyanna, does eventually make it out of the tower. But she’s currently in the hands of Littlefinger who, like Janos Slynt, was a villain responsible for her father’s demise. In this scenario, will she have to wait for a valiant hero to come take care of him again? Or will she instead don the knight’s armor (figuratively) by enacting justice in her own right? Based on the GoHH’s prophecy, it looks like it will be the latter; and it’s important to note how often “armor” as a motif is repeated in Sansa’s chapters. Thus, the princess evolving into the hero is told through the arc of a singular character here. Sansa is the princess who makes it out of the tower to become a hero of her own making; important disclaimer though, Littlefinger doesn’t really play into the elements of knighthood but he does count as an evil lord holding a princess hostage so Sansa can still be a subversion of the knight rescuing the maiden - the lesson being that she is her own knight, her own salvation!
It’s a very powerful meta-textual thread that exists between these three characters. They all fit into a wider narrative about fantasy and how it can live on, whether played straight or twisted a little crooked. So Sansa doesn’t have to be an overt in-universe parallel to Lyanna because that’s just not her role in the story. And I personally don’t think any “similarities” they have are actually important to Sansa as a person or to Jon because let’s face it, Lyanna’s primary (and most important) role is to be Jon’s mother and everything else informs on that. But both these women (and Jon) can be meta twinsies based on how they fit into GRRM’s wider narrative goals.
#asoiaf#jon snow#sansa stark#lyanna stark#valyrianscrolls#fantasy tropes#my stuff#tldr it doesn’t matter if sansa and lyanna are similar as characters - I personally don’t think they are#but they could still have complementary elements based on how they fit into GRRM’s overall engagement with the genre#hope that makes sense lol#and btw this is strictly academic so don’t come here with shipping nonsense#jon and sansa are my top 2 but I DO NOT SHIP!! just letting people know so they don’t cry and whine if I block 🙂
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What I Wish I Knew
Summary: When Master Yoda makes it a requirement for all Jedi Knights to take a Padawan, it means a lot of very young children end up on the front lines of a war. Plo Koon ends up with an eleven year old padawan, and he turns to Commander Wolffe to explain the realities of their situation to her.
Characters: Commander Wolffe, Plo Koon, Young F!Padawan Reader (all platonic)
Word Count: 761
Warnings: Wolffe has a heavy conversation with the reader
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: Is a lot of what Wolffe says pulled directly from this song, yes. Yes it is. But it works.
“Commander,” General Koon walks over to him, a pensive look on his face, “I’m glad to see you. I was hoping to get your advice on something.”
“My advice, General?” Wolffe is, understandably, confused at the very idea, “I’m happy to help, of course. But I’m not sure what kind of advice I can give you that you don’t already know.”
“It’s always important to get multiple opinions.” General Koon says lightly, “And this is a matter that you might be better equipped at dealing with than myself.”
“Alright,” Wolffe replies slowly, “Go ahead.”
“You might have noticed,” General Koon starts slowly, thoughtfully, “That my Padawan is very…young.”
That might very well be the understatement of the century. She’s hardly the youngest of the new Jedi Commanders, that particular honor lies at Cody’s feet, who has an 8 year old Jedi Commander and it bothers him a lot.
“She’s not terribly young, sir.” Wolffe says awkwardly.
General Koon chuckles, “True. She’s at least old enough to be a Padawan on her own merits, but she is still very young, Commander. Too young for War. Too young to understand the realities, I think.”
“General, what are you asking me to do?”
“Talk to her. Help her understand.”
“Shouldn’t that be your job?” Wolffe asks.
“I think the lesson will stick better coming from you.” General Koon replies quietly, “Can you do this?”
Wolffe sighs and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Just…send her to my office when she finishes with her lessons for the day.”
“Of course…and, Commander, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Wolffe remains standing there as General Koon walks away, and then he sighs.
Great. How do you explain war to a Cadet who actually has to take part in it? His training did not cover this.
With that thought in mind, he turns on his heels and heads towards his quarters. Hopefully the short walk will make the words magically appear. He’s not hopeful, though. Odds are he’s going to be winging it.
Half an hour later, there’s a knock on his door, and then it slides open, and a small face peeks in.
She’s…young.
So young.
Too young.
Her hair is tied in twin tails. Twin tails that she needs help putting up still. And her face is still rounded with baby fat.
Wolffe knows, logically, that she’s inching towards puberty. He knows human biology after all, but he can’t help but look at her and see a cadet rather than a jedi.
“Master said that you wanted to see me, Wol-...um, Commander.” She asks as she steps into the room and shuts the door behind her, “Did I do something wrong?”
Wolffe opens his mouth, and the words start coming, “I was younger than you are now, when I was given my first command.” He says, and she turns wide, baffled eyes towards his face, “I led my men into a massacre, I witnessed their deaths first hand.”
Her hands curl around her robes…robes that are too big for her.
“I made every mistake.” Wolffe continues as he stares at her, “And even now, to this day, I lie awake knowing that history has its eyes on me.”
“Why are you telling me this?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly, her eyes even wider.
Good. She understands.
Wolffe circles his desk and kneels in front of her, “Let me tell you what I wish I knew, what I wish someone had told me.” He sets his hands on her shoulders. She’s so small, too small. “You have no control over who lives, who dies, or who tells your story at the end.”
She sniffles and her wide eyes fill with tears.
Wolffe smiles, and tugs her into a light hug, “I know that we can win.” He says quietly, “I know that greatness lies in you. But you have to remember, from here on out, that history has its eyes on you.”
She hastily wipes her eyes, and she blinks up at him with eyes that are a little more haunted than they were moments earlier. A little less innocent. “...Yes Commander, I think I understand.”
“Good girl.”
She offers him a quick bow, and then she scurries out of the room, and Wolffe leans against his desk. Only time will tell how this chat went, but, hopefully, he got through to her.
Hopefully she’ll understand what he meant.
Hopefully General Koon won’t be too mad about what he just taught her.
His head tilts back, history has its eyes on you indeed.
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Investigator Traits in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy
As anyone who has been following this blog knows, with Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, we really wanted roleplay and rules/mechanics to be strongly intertwined. In any good RPG, the rules/mechanics should facilitate the story, not hinder it, and the actions and behaviors of the characters essentially are the story. Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy allows for and encourages a great many different types of people to be made as PCs, and we never want the players to have to fight the rules to play their character—if you have to do this, you’re probably playing the wrong RPG for the kind of story you’re trying to have, but that’s a different topic entirely—so instead of trying to squeeze a character concept into or out of a “class” or “playbook”, we designed the Traits system in Eureka so that the unique personality of the PC becomes their own unique mechanical gameplay.
This post is talking about Traits, but Truth is another example of this, and we gave that its own post here.
Traits are, well, traits of the PC. Every PC gets 3 of them by default, and they can be mixed and matched in just about any way. Traits can wildly affect the way that a PC plays, because each one changes the way that the PC interacts with certain mechanics in the game. Sometimes they’re personality traits, sometimes they’re physical traits, and sometimes rarely they’re even narrative traits(but they are not backstory traits; knowing a guy is not a trait, owning a car is not a trait, etc.)
Some traits have small mechanical benefits, others have big mechanical benefits that are very situational, and still others have big mechanical benefits balanced out with big mechanical downsides.
Let’s take a look at a few Traits right now.
Bumbling Detective || When this character rolls to investigate using Knowledge skills, always subtract -2 from the roll, but they gain an additional +2 Investigation Points.
This trait is meant to evoke the comedic ‘detective work’ of Inspector Jacques Clouseau, causing the PC to have a significantly higher chance of failing any investigation rolls related to inspecting the scene of an event or crime. However, as their fail, their investigation points stack up real fast, gaining them easy Eureka!s. Here is a post explaining investigation points and Eureka!s in greater detail, but the short version for this post is that they can be used to retroactively reveal clues or increase the PC’s odds in a climactic action roll, like Inspector Jacques Clouseau, they will appear to completely botch the investigation in the front half, but then they will be able to use their huge stock of Eureka!s to serendipitously save the day in the climax, revealing them to actually be an unassuming genius, or just an even bigger idiot than everyone already thought they were, but still not without merit as a detective.
Just One More Thing… || When this character rolls to investigate using Intrapersonal skills, always subtract -2 from the roll, but they gain an additional +2 Investigation Points.
This Trait is meant to evoke the particular investigation style of the recently tumblr-famous Columbo. Like the Bumbling Detective Trait, except for Interpersonal investigation rolls that deal with talking to NPCs, this character will frequently “fail” when asking questions and trying to get information out of people, but in doing so will quickly rack up lots of investigation points. Later on, with the Eureka!s they’ve gathered, they can reveal how they needled and provoked the suspect into revealing just what they needed him to.
We have a lot of other traits based on famous TV detectives, but I don’t want to go over all of them in one post, so here’s one more based on Sherlock Holmes.
Elementary! || This character has a keen eye for detail and can deduce a lot about a person just by looking at them, or at least they think they can. When meeting a new person for the first time, this character may choose to have the Narrator make a hidden Social Cues roll for you. Full Success = This character is able to guess two correct facts about this person just by looking at them. Partial Success = This character is able to guess one correct fact and one incorrect fact about this person. Failure = This character is able to guess two incorrect facts about this person. The Narrator will tell the character these facts, but will not tell them if they are true or false, and will not tell them what the result of the hidden roll was. This roll does not grant investigation points.
(couldn't find any .gifs that weren't of BBC Sherlock)
With this Trait, a PC can instantly sus out small details about an NPC just at the slightest glance, though they better hope their analysis is right on the money, or they might end up looking a total fool! This trait is a favorite among certain playtesters.
Hardened Hearts || This character will not have to make any composure rolls for witnessing blood/gore, corpses, or death. Subtract -2 from all Comfort rolls made by this character. If an NPC, apply this to Morale.
Maybe this character has seen plenty of dead bodies, or maybe they just don’t much care about them, either way, they are immune to losing composure points from particularly gruesome scenes that might send others running for a place to throw up. On the flip side, however, this indifference acts as a barrier between themselves and other, more squeamish people, and this can make it difficult to approach them on their level and provide a calming effect when they need to.
That isn’t to say that in real life there can’t be people who are unaffected by seeing corpses but aren’t bad at comforting others—there’s plenty of morticians who see gruesome scenes every day, but and are also very experienced at speaking to grieving families without worsening their already fragile emotional state. For a character like this, the Hardened Hearts Trait isn’t the right fit, instead you’d want to make Corpses a +3 on that character’s Tiers of Fear, which is a mechanic we haven’t really talked about on this blog yet I don’t think, but basically there is a list of Fears in the rulebook and you write them into a chart on the character sheet, ranking them by how much they would distress the character, with +3 being the least distress and -3 being the most distress. This determines the modifier when making a Composure Roll, the result of which determines how much Composure the character loses when faced with particularly harrowing events. (And it is not a measure of “sanity”)
For one last one, let’s look at one of my personal favorite Traits.
Final Girl: When this character is alone against any sort of supernatural threat, add +1 to all rolls made with Physical Skills. Additionally, when this character is alone against any sort of supernatural threat, they may spend one or more Eureka! points on one of the supernatural threat’s skill rolls, adding an extra D6 for each point. The supernatural threat must drop the highest dice.
This Trait allows the character to emulate the narrative trope of the “final girl” in horror movies, particularly “slashers” or “creature-features”. It gives them the little boost they may need to get out alive or fight the creature off, but only when they’re the last one left or otherwise all alone. It also allows them to spend a Eureka! in just the right moment: the slasher’s knife miraculously misses their throat, the creature gets snared up while lunging through the foliage, whatever it is that makes them lucky enough to survive what was certain death for the rest of the main characters long enough to mount an effective defense or make a daring escape.
As you can see, there’s a lot to work with with these traits, 31 of them at the time of writing this, and they can vastly alter the way that a character interacts with the rules/mechanics of the game, all based on their personality and, well, their *traits*. This encourages and rewards characters acting in their own unique way, rather than simply being a “class”, “playbook”, or “archetype”, or just a collection of different skills, while actually supporting this unique gameplay and roleplay with the rules of the game.
We also include guidelines in the rulebook for how to create your own homebrew Traits as well.
You can also pick up a pre-release PDF copy of this game(in a fully playable state) for $5 through our Patreon.
#eureka: investigative urban fantasy#eureka#rpg#roleplaying#coc#call of cthulhu#dnd#indie rpg#motw ttrpg#motw rpg#motw#monster of the week#tabletop#ttrpg#halloween
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Honestly, you are like the most based person ever. A Martian Manhunter fan and a MAWS critic? F YEAH!
I'm so disappointed with MAWS' Lois :( Her romance with Clark could've been so good. SO GOOD. But they decided to go for fan service instead. She just gives off Lena (from cwsg) vibes and that's never a good thing.
Speaking of Supergirl, what's your opinion on the show? And on the show's portrait of J'onn. It baffles me how much hate the show got for the same things fans are willing to overlook now on MAWS. Aren't those some double standards, geez...
Aw shucks thank you! 2 incredibly niche but based things to be...
Sob! Call it the ace in me but whenever people think MAWS!Clois have chemistry because they're easily amused by seeing hot characters undress I lose life force. I didn't witness a couple that grew mutual respect and affection, I saw an insta-crush that led to Lois becoming so entitled to a guy she'd known for less than a week to the point of demanding full transparency of his private life before they even started dating. And then the narrative says it's Clark's fault for having reasonable boundaries, and then they're a couple. What is this.
I've briefly talked about CW Supergirl before, but my takeaway is: if people think MAWS is genuinely good writing then they should absolutely watch CW Supergirl because it must look like high art in comparison to MAWS. Maybe people are less judgy when something's animated and that's not fair. If we want to take animation as a serious medium we should hold it to the same standard and not coddle it. As someone who watched a few eps when CW Supergirl aired and then revisited and watched the whole thing years after the show concluded, I feel that the misogyny surrounding people's discourse around the show has led to people judging the show based on a fanon idea of it rather than its own merits.
more under the cut!
CW Supergirl is a show with great highs and lows. This results in things being hit or miss. But when something hits- CW Supergirl is not given nearly enough credit as it deserves. As a Martian Manhunter fan, I believe that their take on J'onn is the most competent and well adapted in not just adapted media, but all of comics canon. That doesn't mean I like everything they did with his lore and character, but I can acknowledge that they actually bothered developing him outside of the comics/cartoon's fixation with making him mope about his Origin Story all the time. He gets to find love, have adopted daughters through Kara and Alex, reckon with what it's like to preserve aspects of a culture he doesn't fully identify with, deal with his dad going through Martian Alzheimer's disease, and most importantly MAKE PEACE WITH HIS BROTHER. CW Supergirl has hands down, the best take on Ma'alefa'ak in all of canon.
I think Lena is a great character on the show. She's dealing with the trauma of being constantly manipulated by her own family, the legacy her name carries and who she is in all that. But because the supercorp ship permeates the way people perceive the show, she's reduced to that by discourse. When Lena has drama over Kara's secret Superhero identity, it's something that's built up to and informed by trauma, trust-issues, and TIME. We are shown that she has these problems. It gets melodramatic at times, but it's still something that was built up to. Meanwhile in MAWS Lois just tells us she has daddy issues and that it's why she really needs the cute guy at work to spill all his personal info to her even though she gets to lie to him for her own personal gain multiple times. I appreciate what CW Supergirl did to bring more attention to what was an obscure character. Whenever I bump into Lena in the comics, it hasn't stacked up to the character I met on the show.
I've called this out before but while CW Supergirl isn't perfect by any means especially with their treatment of Jimmy Olsen as a love interest to Kara and a generally sidelined Black supporting character, they still discussed and acknowledged Jimmy's identity as a Black American man! Sure it was heavy handed many times, but that's way better than MAWS straight up ignoring Jimmy's Blackness and even making an unintentional jab at it!! Like cw Supergirl Jimmy knows bigotry and has experienced it. MAWS Jimmy thinks bigotry is being ghosted for a camping trip. I have seen the exact same critics call out cw Supergirl for Jimmy's treatment while gleefully thinking Jimmy's treatment in MAWS is so uwu perfect. It makes me sick! Am I going insane?? It's the double standards for me.
#askjesncin#jesncin dc meta#jesncin talks maws#both shows have terrible Asian rep tho- early Supergirl especially. Asian men dropped like flies in that show it's not even funny#I see you other asks about Supergirl- I will get to you! And I will introduce Kara into my AU eventually
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I want to know, if you don't mind and if you feel comfortable, your honest opinion, from the bottom of your heart, why you choose zutara over kataang. I'm really curious to know an adult's perspective about this ship.
Hi,
Thanks for asking this. Hopefully, it's with genuine curiosity and not a means to find things to argue with or attack me over.... anyway... I've been thinking about this a little bit, and the answer is two-fold.
The short answer is that I pick Zutara over Kataang because I don't like Aang very much, and I do like Zuko; I think the characterization of both just lends itself more to an appreciation of Zuko and his redemption arc over Aang's hero struggle.
The long answer is a summation of the following:
Aang's a child in the series, not yet even a teenager, and I think we can all agree that he often displays his lack of maturity throughout the series in several places. Now, this isn't necessarily a fair argument to bring to the table, given that he would undoubtedly mature as he grew (we assume) and did some growing up, even during the series. That said, his age - his being younger than Katara, is another reason I prefer Zutara, because most of the time - at least when I'm writing them - the gaang are either in their mid-late teens or early twenties, and I think at those ages, most girls don't want to date someone younger than them. Partially, it's social conditioning, but developmentally, boys tend to be two years behind girls in regard to maturity, etc., so it's a big factor.
We see throughout the series that Katara goes for guys that are... shall we say, more "manly" than Aang? Jet is a sexy schmooze with mixed-up ideals, but he's older than her and well-fit. Haru is buff as hell and kind of adorable (before the mustache makes its debut, anyway). In that regard, Zuko is much more Katara's 'type' than a scrawny, short, skinny bald kid with arrows tattooed all over him. Also, I mean, she seems to prefer men with great hair, and Aang just doesn't fit the bill.
Aang is the Avatar and, by merit of being so, needs to put his connection to the spirits world, his responsibility to the physical world, and his role as an avatar before everything else, including worldly attachments. We see this throughout the series, wherein his unwillingness to let go of his attachment to Katara inhibits his chakra pathways and blocks him from entering the avatar state. We also see him finally choosing his responsibility over his love for Katara, and while that's the right thing to do for the sake of the world, I just think Katara deserves more than that. It's the embodiment of the uptick in a preference for falling for the morally grey villain over the hero because the hero will sacrifice you for the good of the world, while the morally grey villain will let the world burn as long as you're safe.
Now, you could argue that the above isn't fair because Zuko has responsibilities, too, in that he needs to take on the role of Fire Lord, but I think there's more room for love/romance/attachment in that role than there is in Aang's role.
Zuko is so much more interesting than Aang; I don't know how else to put it. He's got the tragic back-story, the anger issues, the redemption arc, that morally-grey-what-can-I-say-grey's-my-favourite-colour vibe about him, and he's just so much cooler and more mature. Like, yes, he has his moments of childishness and temper tantrums - as does Katara - but he's matured far beyond what we witness of Aang and it makes him a more likable character. An example of what I mean is probably best illustrated in the Southern Raiders chapter. Aang tries to impose his own ideals and morality on Katara when she's burning for revenge, which, while he's trying to encourage her to do the right thing, doesn't really suggest that he's supportive of her feelings. I found him quite dismissive in that chapter with his insistence that she just forgave the man who killed her mother without any attempt at growth or chance for closure. Meanwhile, Zuko just grabs his gear and goes with her to make sure she'll be safe and to support her in whatever decision she chooses to make. Yes, it might've meant that he would be an accessory to murder, but at least he was supportive. Also, his reaction to learning Katara can blood-bend - an insanely frightening ability when you really stop and think about it - is alarmed but then accepting, and it's just so much more palatable than the lecture I imagine she'd get from Aang if he learned she'd used the ability for harm and revenge.
There's too much of a brother-sister vibe between Aang and Katara - at least when it's shown from Katara's perspective - and it wigs me out that the writers put them together in the end. Throughout the series, Katara treats Aang much the same way she treats Sokka, often mothering him as opposed to seeming romantically inclined towards him. Whereas with Zuko through the entire series, there's the ongoing thread of parallels between their characters and the underlying unresolved sexual tension between them - put there intentionally BY THE WRITERS, I might add. Like throughout the series, we were SUPPOSED to be shipping Zuko and Katara; the intention was to have them end up together. It's only the last-minute switch of writers and/or change of heart to fulfill the "hero gets the girl" trope that made Kataang canon, and I just think it's a disservice to the characters, the fans, and the series in general, to backflip like that at the last minute for a lame reason.
I could probably go on - and have before, in GCs and sometimes on Tumblr, about the many reasons they're just better suited to one another, but you're probably bored by now, so I'll stop here. Hopefully, the above gives you something to think about and a better understanding of the reasons so many ship the two of them. If nothing else, it's got me thinking about my Zutara fics and maybe even planning an update.
xx-Kitten
#kittenshift17#fanfiction#writing#zutara#prince zuko#katara#why i ship zutara#author opinion#anon request#anon ask#anonymous
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But Caitie, why are you so pressed about bad faith criticism from book fans about the wheel of time show? Great question I’m glad you asked.
From what I have observed book fans who are saying that it’s a bad adaptation and not worth watching have criticisms that usually boil down to one or all of these three objections.
1. They’re spending time in the show on characters who aren’t the ta’veren boys/Rand
2. Any changes have been made at all in order to adapt the story to film
3. There are too many queer characters and actors of color
All three of these talking points became a common refrain during season one, largely driven by the hilariously un-self aware manpilled alt-right shitheads in the /r/whitecloaks subreddit which got shut down for harassing other subreddits in 2022. It should be obvious that a lot of the motivation there was a misogynistic and racist misreading of a deliberately feminist and multicultural book series. If you think RJ would find this diverse show full of badass and well fleshed out women a poor adaptation of his work you are kidding yourself.
And regarding the other less obviously white supremacist complaints: Rand is not the only important character. Anyone who has read past like book two should be well aware that every main character’s point of view is important to the overall narrative. There are only 8 seasons in which to get through all of those main characters’ arcs. Of course they are starting them all now. Are the boys getting less screen time than they get pov chapters early in the books? Sure. This is necessary because once again, the ta’veren boys are Not the only characters that matter. I don’t know why people are so surprised that ALL of the main characters of a book series with over a dozen recurring pov characters are going to have character arcs.
And again if you’re just mad that it’s more queer and polyamorous. Fuck off.
There are valid criticisms to be made about this show if you engage with the show in good faith and judge it by its own merit instead of just comparing it scene by scene to the books. For instance I think it’s fairly obvious that the first season suffered as a result of late stage rewrites made to account for a shortened episode count, and Perrin’s arc in particular was off to a rough start.
But in season 2 I think they are doing a lot of things right, and the change of speeding up his acceptance of his wolfkin powers is a Very good one I think.
And the rest of this season rules to be totally honest. All of the Moiraine and Lan stuff is Great and really sets up for later events so well. And I am enjoying Everything about how the show is handling the Forsaken so far. Episode 4 was my favorite yet, Lanfear is fucking Perfect. This season is absolutely nailing character beats for all the most important characters, and doing excellent character work around the major themes of the book series and setting up for future key events. Every scene with any of the Aes Sedai is my favorite. And some things have been markedly improved by the show over the books. I cannot get over how good the team up of Mat and Min is so far. And the normalization of polyamory in the culture of randland is Brilliant for the long term series.
If this show gets cancelled because so many of the book fans refuse to even try to engage with it for what it is instead of what isn’t, it will be a goddamn tragedy. And if you’re just really disappointed that you can’t as easily skip the scenes with the girls the way you skipped the POV chapters of all the women when reading the books then please take a big step back and ask yourself if unchecked misogyny is a good look in 2023.
#still so fucking funny tbh that a bunch of neo fascists were like ‘we identify with the white cloaks and that’s a good thing actually’#i do not think they understand the books they were so passionate about#wheel of time#wot show#wot on prime#wot#unreasonably attractive fandom#caitie speaks#wot show spoilers#a fan of a feminist book series: there are too many girls in this show
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Tidbit Tuesday
Thank you for the tags @forthewolves @panbuckley, @prince-buck-diaz, @thewolvesof1998, @spotsandsocks, @jesuisici33, @911onabc, @wikiangela and @devirnis You are all so amazing!
NFL Buck is up to 12k with no end in sight. Haha. But here is a tidbit.
“Eddie, you need friends. Ones that are in the same state, the same city. Tommy, Kealia, your sisters, they are miles away now. I know that they will gladly pick up the phone, answer a text if you need to talk to someone, but having friends who can physically be there for you especially after a tough call, is much more beneficial.” Buck argues.
Eddie wants to dispute his boyfriends’ claims. He has enough friends, he has his family, he has Buck and his son. He even has Maddie, who is practically his sister as well as Buck’s. His circle is small, and it needs to stay that way. It’s easier for him, for Evan, for everyone. There are less secrets to keep, little to no lies to tell. Making new friends means opening up about all the struggles he’s been through to get where he is, sharing his true emotions, his fears and then holding onto a sliver of hope that the judgement that comes afterwards isn’t pitying or unkind.
He opens his mouth to tell Buck as much, to tell him that he’s fine being a trustworthy co-worker, a guy to share a beer with here and there, maybe attend one of their cookouts with Christopher to show team comradery. But Evan knows him too well and sees Eddie’s protest before he probably even thought about them, “Baby, they’re not asking you for your deepest darkest secrets or your entire life story…at least not yet. What they’re asking is basic get to know you stuff and by being so stubborn and mysterious about it, you’ve only made them more curious. Be less of a mystery, share just a little more but without in depth details on well…me.” The quarterback chuckles, “I have a feeling that a little will go a long way with these people. And if you don’t want to answer, say as much or just redirect. Tell them about some of the calls back in Texas, or hey, better yet start asking about them. Get to know them too. Who knows maybe, just maybe they can become trustworthy enough to share the fact you landed a scorching hot top 5 NFL quarterback.”
God his boyfriend was too smart for his own good, and maybe a little too full of himself as well, but its merited. Evan Buckley was stupidly handsome, a very talented athlete, and was giving Eddie great advice. He just needed to listen and advise by it.
Buck can be very wise I believe, he just doesn't take a lot of his own advise. Hope you all enjoyed! If you want to see more NFL Buck search under the nfl tag on my page.
Tagging: @alyxmastershipper, @brokenribsdiaz, @cowboydiazes, @cowboy-buddie, @911-on-abc, @shortsighted-owl, @thekristen999, @lizzybizzyzzz, @transbuck, @spaceprincessem, @monsterrae1, @try-set-me-on-fire, @bekkachaos, @rogerzsteven, @starlingbite, @housewifebuck, @devirnis, @glorious-spoon, @hippolotamus, @homerforsure, @sibylsleaves
#tidbit tuesday#my wip#tag game#911 fox#911 abc#911 show#911 fic#buddie#buddie fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#118 firefam#nfl#quarterback buck#firefighter eddie#secret relationship#buck is wise#eddie needs friends#buck is cocky
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carpe diem
when it came to your friend, you had little regard for anything, even yourself. what happened to abattouy should never have occurred, and you were determined to prove why.
cyno x gn!reader
rating: t
wc: 30k+
a/n: so cyno … amirght?
this fic would literally not be here without nessa. you have no idea what i put her through in the background. someone come save her.
spoilers for tighnari story quest for sure. bunch of lore tidbits from 3.0.
[also available to read on ao3] [or read it in parts]
sumeru, nation rooted in the growth of knowledge, nurtured its most promising seeds under the observance of the akademiya. in pursuit of their own goals and by the faith of greater lord rukkhadevata, scholars pledged their souls to the never ending race in pursuit of the next revelation of knowledge.
and frankly, it was a tiring venture.
most scholars sought out lost tombs of history, the understanding of ley lines or simply the wisdom of the gods.
as a child, you'd grown up on foreign stories and toy machines from the lands of snezhnaya after a traveling merchant had given into your curious palms. you recall threading your small and nimble fingers into the grooves of the ancient renditions, memorizing the gear placements. your personal thirst for knowledge was deeply seated in the desire to learn how every individual part came together.
it was just when your seed began to sprout, that you learned why your beloved toys were only obtained through a small gesture of friendliness from far lands. the akademiya frowned on the very existence of mechanical beings, feeling that life had advanced beyond the need for sentience bound to whirling gears. the age of technology and innovation was the gift from the gods, present in the akasha device. what need was there for the past?
adaptiveness and the will of your mentor was what carried you through the final years of your scholarship; that and an obstinate botany student whom you befriended against the odds.
you became a respectable scholar of the kshahrewar (technology) where your workshop found home in the port of ormos. most of your days were dedicated to your own side projects and tinkering with customer complaints.
your employment through the akademiya was purely out of collaboration between the institution and the forest rangers as a joint effort to assist in the containment of the withering zones. the institution was eager to work with their twice-self removed star pupil and tighnari was always in need of additional resources.
and well, it was you.
the sidekick to his backstory though considered in a more favorable light by the fox himself.
but there was no doubting that it was through his merits that you remained relevant under speculation of the akademiya.
more importantly, it was through tighnari that you met him.
the great general mahamantra who once regarded your friend with distrust, for scholars who retained knowledge outside of akademiya supervision were those considered most dangerous.
in the same way tighnari shattered your walls of doubt, he tore down the barrier corralling cyno in solitude. proving that not all who sought out knowledge were limited by their threat levels.
but you.
you just laughed at his jokes.
and for him, that was the explanation enough.
“hm, and you're sure it can maintain the temperatures i input?”
dragging your wrist across your damp forehead, you lean back away from your work if only for the sake of catching a stray breeze. unfortunately, any opportunity was blocked by tighnari's incessant hovering.
the ranger had managed to leave you on your own for fifteen to twenty minute intervals at best while you configured the terrarium device. what started off as a heartfelt idea to gift a friend on his birthday was becoming a thorn in your side.
“yes, tighnari. i even grew one of those sweet flowers in it to test for you.”
the man above scoffed, ears twitching as an afterthought, “you grew a weed? that's hardly comforting. you can grow those in the trash.''
your brow pinched as the wrench flexed in your palm; a short pause away from launching it at his head. he was really beginning to strike your nerves, birthday boy or not. “why don't i just throw this thing in there along with it?”
“no, no, it does look promising.”
his gaze darts down briefly and he catches your exasperated expression. his ears drop slightly at the implications of his spectacle. “sorry, i am grateful, truly. you just know how i am about plants.”
sighing, you rolled to your feet, eager to get off your knees after an hour of labour.
“yes, they're your babies. i know. which is why i spent a lot of my free time developing this for you.” his ears flickered at the not so quiet jackass that left your lips.
“and i appreciate it very, very much.” the fox grinned sheepishly, guilty eyes seeking forgiveness. it was a losing battle attempting to hold out. the moment a hint of a returning smile curved at your lips he knew he'd won.
he was at least graceful enough not to laugh in the face of victory, though the mirth on his face was not lost. “sorry for eating up your shop time, especially when you have other projects to focus on.”
to that you wave off as you gathered your stray tools. it had been quite awhile since you'd had anything to call a proper 'project'. most of your days had been busy work with customer orders repairing coffee machines or personal side quests like this.
tighnari helped keep the akademiya at bay by feeding you fresh knowledge on the withering zones allowing you to satisfy their interests while you attempted to refunction your purpose.
it … had been hard when your workshop that once housed two downsized.
abbatouy had been more than a fellow scholar after sharing your childhood love for ancient machines. in a society where just the mention of them was a plausible crime, it was nice to know someone still favored the legend beyond your favorite toy.
but abbatouy had done more than simply believed in the history, he made it his goal to revive the slumbering giants and employ their aid to further advance sumeru. determined but mindful of your proximity to his research, abattouy had done his best to keep you free of the consequences. but in a city where knowledge was power, the misuse of it rarely went unnoticed.
if only it had been your silence and not the opposite.
upon being stripped of his scholarship, your friend had disappeared beyond the city limits undetectable by anyone. it had been nearly two years since that day, though you never stopped seeking out information.
biting your lip, you tentatively ask,”you still haven't heard anyone of abattouy?”
the sound that leaves the ranger's lips is aged yet still kind as he regards you with sympathy,” the forest has not been suitable for extended living for years. we haven't seen anything more permanent than a few student research tents.” his brow furrows at the thought,” even then we urge them on if they linger more than a few days.”
you suspected as much, but beyond tighnari, there were few people you could ask. news of him settling in aaru village would have reached you by now.
“he just disappeared. not even a letter telling me where he was going.”
the last you'd seen of him was at a distance during his trial hearing. you'd been brought in to testify at the beginning but regardless of your words the sentence had already been passed the moment the matra were involved.
he was worrying, thinking of him on his own like that. at some point he needed to find civilization for the sole purpose of obtaining his medications. hearing nothing of his visits from the bimarstan had only increased your concerns. due to his heart condition, it was tantamount that he stayed on top of it.
tighnari's hand finds your shoulder with a reassuring squeeze,” it's probably for the best. he didn't want to bring you down with him.”
“yeah, that's what cyno implied,” you muttered, unable to avoid the stale bitter taste of resentment.
few people envied your close relation to the general mahamantra, even less scholars who feared even the mention of his name. but to you, it had always been just cyno. a first then a lover as you grew to know the man behind the mask.
he was someone you always felt that you could confide in, which was a small pool given your proximity to the very man who could end the careers of any scholar at the akademiya. not that it bothered you, between him and tighnari, your hands were full as it was.
it had been a stretch of faith than had left more than one soul stranded.
the aftermath of abbatouy's expulsion … had not been easy on the relationship. there was plenty of blame and fear permitting the household you shared with cyno. to escape, he spent more than the scheduled hours working and you escaped to the forest.
tighnari hated every day of it, torn between two stubborn individuals set in their morals.
“he knew what he was getting into with that research,” tighanri's words were a rolling record of advice you'd never shake off. “Which was why he kept you out of it. it was inevitable. cyno just wants to keep you safe as well.”
the fox's voice eases into something lighter, hopeful even, “besides we can't afford for you to get kicked out. then you'd end up with me.”
recognizing the jest, you feed into the request for a transition out of whatever had come to hang over the pair. it was his birthday after all.
finding a grin wasn't as hard as it felt,” that doesn't sound too bad. we could be roommates.”
the scowl perched on his lips was expected, even as you laugh, thankful for the distraction. regardless of the akademiya's reign, you would always find comfort in tighnari's kingdom.
“anyway, don't forget, you promised to join us for dinner this weekend.”
tighnari pretended not to notice the various amount of notes pinned against his wall that he most certainly did not leave. there was no denying that his frequent check ins were well intended. he shuddered to think what he'd find under his bed.
“i'll be there.”
the following days blended together like any other. you found little comfort in the hustle and bustle of the port side as you rummaged around in your workshop listlessly. to the best of your ability, you repurposed the free space to use it rather than be forced to acknowledge the emptiness.
in truth, it was a disorganized mess, an accumulation of abandoned projects and scattered tools. cyno liked to bring it up in passing whenever he stopped by. but you held on that it was a project in itself, something you'd focus on when the time was right.
which wasn't exactly a form of avoidance. occasionally you'd dig into the mess just to shake it up a bit. at least when someone else observed it, they could note some kind of change.
lost in the idleness of your boredom, you decide to do just that as you near the clutter. if enough time was spent, there were a few designs that come back to the light and show some promise. the akademiya was all about exploration of new knowledge, but few things were obtained by one mind alone.
despite your innocence, few scholars willing chose to partner with you. though, that was a fact you faced well before abattouy. he'd been one of the few undeterred by your close relations with the matra. it said something for one to be so confident in their studies that not even the fear of being caught would sway them.
in another time, abatouuy's story might have been different.
crouching near the apex of the rubble, you work free, a familiar construct. it had been a frivolous project, a mixology machine that had come to fruition after hearing tales from mondstat. abattouy loved to berate the lack of drinks present at the tavern, hailing that he could come up with his own creations to rival it.
safe to say neither of you had the slightest clue about the trade. in the end abbattouy had been too proud to bargain it off at the tavern. the memory brought a smile to your face.
tucking a stray hair behind your ear, you reach out to tug the device free—only to be given a brief warning before the the weight of its neighbors tumbled around it. it was a good thing that none of these had any owners, given the rubble of the aftermath was sure to leave a few dents and dings.
“well abattouy,” you tugged free a bent stick of metal. “there goes the sumpter scratcher. those poor beast…''
that idea had definitely come after a night of too many drinks. you recalled stumbling back into the workshop after being patiently escorted from the tavern to find yourselves back here with too many tools and imagination for miles.
it was how most of the best projects came about, with plenty of laughter to spare. it was a shame how the same sound resounded so hollow now.
the bottom of the bunch hadn't been spared the brunt of the fall. with more consideration, you carefully extracted one of the crooked pieces of metal. whatever it had been, was now warped beyond its expectations.
curious you turned it over, interest peaked at the sound of something rattling inside. you didn't recognize the design. it appeared to still be in the first stages of welding, nothing more than an unsuspecting tin box.
upon abattouy's expulsion, you'd been barred from the workshop for the amount of days it took for them to clear out anything pertaining to forbidden knowledge. it had been a through dive that resulted in most of his inventions being confiscated. but it appeared not all was lost. before its demise, it was likely too unsuspecting to discern its purpose.
“I wonder what he planned for you?”
the trapped contents teased your peakes interest more as you wedged a tool between the split edge to force it open. after some effort in conjunction with the forces of physics, the box cracked revealing a single notebook.
one you definitely recognised.
it was abattouy's.
a single comment of his collection of scattered thoughts and sketches. neither of you had been given any warning before his seizure, the matra rarely giving anyone time to prepare. the fact that this one had been tucked away in preparation was surprising.
a quick flip through the material gave an inkling of why. you hadn't spent much time pursuing his research, partly by his insistence. but you knew enough to know this was filled with enough knowledge to prosecute you just for holding it.
'if he knew it was here, why did he never come for it?'
perhaps he considered that nothing was spared? but even then—
a sharp knock against the door was all the warning you got before it began to creep open. in a flurry of movement, you snapped the book close and snuck it back under the rubble. by the time you stumbled to your feet, you were greeted by haldr.
“hi!”, you winced at the squeak of your voice before recovering with a cough,”right, how can i help?”
“sorry, i know you're busy.”
you waved off the speech. it was what most people liked to start with ever since abbatouy had left. the workshop had primarily functioned as a place of residence for the two of you to gain 'community hours', backing your research through countless days of tinkering with differing projects brought to your doorstep. after graduating to the next stage, the two of you decided to keep it, both of you still holding on to the desire to give back to the area in a way.
you still had a lab space at the akademiya for your more sensitive projects that needed supervision, but for the most part you were allowed to remain.
“it's fine, really. what do you have for me?”
the man stumbled over the threshold, balancing a coffee machine to his chest. haldr had a penchant for over explaining the cause of the issue before rounding to the actual problem. he was the owner of the respectable cafe stall here in port ortmos. prior, he had begun as an intern under enteka, the acting manager of pupsa cafe in sumeru city before branching out on his own.
you were patient throughout the entire ordeal, more so happy for the distraction as your mind wandered in the background.
when you took the device from him, his gaze wandered to the darker corners of the shop. haldr was a frequent customer, so like most, he knew what it had been.
“a lot of us were surprised that you stuck around. we're grateful for all you do—both of you did. we didn't want to overwhelm you.”
a soft smile pulls at your lips at the sentiment. “trust me, any distraction is a good one.” with a well executed twist of your wrench, you sealed the compartment back and handed it off. “just don't tell my mentor.”
your disposition seemed to put him at ease as he clutched the device gratefully. you'd given up fighting off the insistence as he forced a small pocket of coins into your palm.
“i promise to be more careful. as always, coffee is on the house. thank you!”
it was here that abattouy would wait for the door to close before giving you that look. the one that indicated that we would be seeing him sooner than later. haldr was a kind soul with an erratic forgetful mind. the two of you liked to joke about how different he had to have been before he was introduced to caffeine.
abattouy had been right to avoid introducing the man to anything more advanced.
unable to resist, your gaze darted back over to the pile you'd hastily tossed the book under. while you'd never stopped thinking of the man, there wasn't much past speculation you could summarise on his whereabouts. upon concluding the trial, he'd just vanished. without a trace or final word.
you knew cyno had as much knowledge as you did. it was his resistance against tracking the man that led to the heart of much of your banter then. eventually you just had to settle that if abattouy wanted to be found, he knew where you were and that was that.
except now it wasn't.
before you could think better of it, you tugged book free and returned to your desk.
abattouy had his moments, but he rarely did anything without reason. he must have had intentions of returning to get it but never had the opportunity. with every step scrutinized, you couldn't blame him.
you cock your head to the side, distractedly twisting a wrench in one hand while your other flips idly through the notebook. the deeper you got into the text the more disbelief you felt about the entire situation.
you'd initially supported abattouy because he was your friend. in the heat of the moment, it didn't matter if he was wrong or right. he was a single individual against an institution with your lover holding the banner. it had been almost instinctual to be in his courtyard.
but now you were realizing you weren't cheering for a losing team at all, it was just an unfair playing field. this … these notes, the ideas and speculations. abattouy was something well above the fears that got the topic banned.
sure, the notations of ley line activity was sketchy but he was actively exploring all routes around it. the man just wanted to help. if these mechanical beings could make a single job more efficient he felt complete.
but he wasn't just about the tasks, he wanted the machines to feel accomplished too.
he wanted to breathe new life. and there wasn't a hint of cruelty anywhere in his methods. the sages had to have seen this and they still denied him the opportunity to try.
throwing your head back, you tested the balance of your chair as you stared up at the ceiling. for nearly two years you just sat around toying with the what ifs.
and now- what if you'd found this sooner.
what if you'd discovered this before he'd left.
what if you'd asked the right questions and gotten him to open up to you before it all went sideways.
well you had an answer to the last query.
you'd both likely have been expelled. but would that have been so bad? tighnari surely managed just fine. sure he still had the respect but that meant as much to him as the dirt he walked on.
and cyno-
you shook your head at the thought. things were settled between the two of you now. there was no need to shake up past deductions for the sake of assumptions. past you supported your friend. but the same individual wouldn't have been able to give up the love of your life.
yes, cyno's dedication to the job had been frustrating at the time. but you'd never forget seeing the fear staining those vermilion eyes when you'd first stepped between him and abattouy.
because of course, he'd been the one to retrieve the man for trial. in that moment, cyno dreaded the worst; uncertain if he'd be shackling more than one body that evening.
then abattouy had stepped around you, not sparing you a single glance as he offered his compliance.
he may have lost his tenure but he gained the gratitude of the mahamantra. though it did little in his favor.
biting into your bottom lip, your gaze flickered back down to the notebook. you hadn't always been skeptical of the akademiya. the institute had trained you, equipped you with knowledge, skills and relationships that would span a lifetime.
but it wasn't perfect.
setting the wrench aside, you focused your full attention on the text.
there wasn't a chance that you could prove it, not with the worship surrounding the institution.
but maybe there was still a chance for you to find your friend.
the clues to abattouy's disappearance had to be in his research. if you could just trace his path you'd eventually end up in the same spot right? you weren't intending to actually attempt to develop sentient machines, you just needed to look into it a bit.
maybe locate resources, old workshop sites, anything that would have garnered his attention.
you decide to close up shop early that day after your last scheduled customer. you were well ahead of the time limit on your other projects and opted to take a trip to the library instead. for the last three hours you hadn't managed to do anything other than pour over the tattooed notebook anyway. it was best to at least decipher some of the information before attempting while there was enough daylight remaining for the trip.
the building wasn't as busy as it could be. a few students lingered, faces you couldn't place if you tried. and you were no tighnari, something he'd proudly second, so not many recognized you either. an auspicious advantage that kept you from under the lens of a camera.
“hey yusef.”
there was one that you could identify without the assistance of your akasha device. the man turned at the sound of his name and offered a quiet smile. yusef had been a junior of yours by year or two but managed to climb in academic standing since you began distancing yourself from the akademiya.
upon graduation, you gravitated toward independent research rather than working towards a mentor route. you were fortunate enough to still be in contact with your advisor, though since the incident there was less to say. there were very few machine researches, both parts in lack of information and the inability to seek more. the few that did exist functioned as civil engineers at best, working to keep the city running.
yusef, you remembered, was seeking out an internship as a scribe. apparently facilitating the library services was a step towards it. snorting, you shook away the echoing snide comment that sounded a lot like tighnari bouncing around your head. it was for the best that he didn't visit the institute often. it was rare that he had anything nice to say about it.
yusef returned your greeting but neither of you had enough history to hold a conversation. it was fine with you. the library wasn't foreign to you so navigating wasn't a struggle.
until it was.
you knew machine research was limited but not so severely. back in your student years, you recalled finding a small pocket of books on ancient anatomy of machines but now you could not even locate the index. surely that hasn't removed all signs of mechanical life forms. the biggest enemy of restriction was curiosity. how else did history manage to repeat itself.
eventually, you rounded back to the beginning of the shelf. initially you'd moved on autopilot, waking the same aisles you had in the past. but apparently that wasn't good enough.
reluctantly you tapped against the device at your ear.
'show me literature of ancient machines.'
you waited patiently for the response, gaze flickering around the remainder of the building. had it really been that long since the two of you sat huddled in the recesses? surely life couldn't be moving that quickly.
though the answer to that was as glaring as the reason you were here remaining in the first place. the sudden shift in vision color disrupted your reflection as your gaze narrowed at the red words.
'restricted access. approval required'
“really,” you muttered dryly. as if that wouldn't give someone ideas. they could have just said 'no information available'. but you supposed that would have been a lie. in sumeru, just about any amount of knowledge was accessible with the right resources.
and for this apparently you were just missing the key. that should be easily obtainable enough. you were no exemplary star by their standards but you pulled enough weight to have a say in the engineering department; the few times you bothered to show up at the meetings. but being invited was enough of a gesture of credentials for you.
you found yourself back at the desk staring down at a perplexed library attendant.
“restricted access?”
tighnari was truly a terrible influence if the first thing that came to the tip of your tongue was a comical mimicry of the same question thrown back at you. it was fortuitous that you were the most mannered of the two. an indisputable title when you were the only one here to defend it.
you bared a grin as you refrain from expressing your emotions by the drum of your fingertips against the countertop. “i'd like to look into some literature that i don't recall having an issue having access to in the past. but now it's unavailable. how do i remedy that?”
this was surely a question he must have gone through in his orientation. but you had a feeling he was more trained to explain to students why they couldn't have access, not responding to seniors trying to gain it.
the poor boy seemed flustered by his lack of polished response,” you would need to request it. um- through the administrative office. they review it from there. i should have a form in the back for you to fill out. you would just need to list the books.”
nope too long. and likely would raise more questions that you were prepared to answer. at least until you got some explanations of your own.
looks like you were doing this … under the table.
you flashed him a smile with a courtesy tap of your palm against the desk. “you know what, no need. must not be for me.” visibly sagged in relief. apparently there was more to it than just presenting a form.
that was okay. you were blessed with advantages not many could boast. so why not utilise them.
being in a relationship with the mahamantra wasn't as luxurious as some made it appear— well that was a subjective opinion depending on the perspective.
students were reasonably intimidated by the very idea of uttering your lover's title. it hovered like the low hanging shadow of an old wives tale; as if mentioning it was enough to bring him to their doorsteps.
but others not restricted by the harsh rules of the akademiya, at least where their livelihood was intertwined, found it to be a respectable position. the matra was a symbol of integrity. where the corps of thirty protected the streets, the matra overlooks the blessing of the god herself, knowledge.
to you, the general was just a simple man who favored rice and meats. perhaps simple was unfair. cyno had traveled to mondstat in the span of three days in his youth to save a young girl. for some that would be enough to root the seeds of worship.
it helped that he was a little more than moderately attractive.
your ears perked at the sound of the door unlocking. a warmth of contentment overshadowed the relief of guessing his schedule right. years of being in a relationship could never dwindle of the glee of having him home. even when you had additional plans for him.
it was interesting adjusting to the life of a living with the general. he didn't have a traditional schedule like most positions. he overlooked the entirety of academic integrity and appeared to have eyes everywhere. you remembered when he accepted the position, a title passed down but no less valuable.
idiots in love was an odd heading to hover over cyno's head but in that moment it have been all too fitting. the way you'd aged into maturity has been respectable, without the loss of affection despite the bumps.
“smells good.”
you looked up as cyno tugged off the infamous jackal headpiece and shook out the slightly humid triggered frizz of silver locs underneath. you repressed a snort when he frowned as one got snagged. apparently the sound wasn't as quiet as you imagined.
cyno's gaze narrowed as you took him in appreciatively, but the soft concerns of his lips offset any concerns. he lay the uniform neatly over the back of the chair before sliding behind you. you were ready for the pressure of his hands against your sides but still managed to jump at the different temperature of his sun kissed heat and the cool chill of the house.
“hi,” you muttered softly as you leaned into the hold. your head titled enough to meet him in a kiss.
“hi,” he echoed, lips now traversing the curve of your jaw. well, safe to say it was a decent workday.
with the free hand not smoothing over the back of the hand holding your waist, you moved the food off the heat. “want to get changed? it's about ready.”
cyno's thumb circled your stomach through your shirt thrice before he nodded in agreement, no doubt ready to hang up the mahamatra for the night. it was truly an earlier night than usual for him. you'd taken a gamble with your expectations. some nights his greetings would rouse you from a light slumber hours after you'd settled in. it would follow with an apology before he relaxed against you only to be gone before you roused the next morning.
cyno took his job seriously and you respected that. but it was nice to see him take it easy every now and again.
he returned to a table set as you poured a glass of his favorite wine. a silver brow rose as he watched you fill the glass, no doubt reading into the implication. you only offered a grin as you settled in the chair next to him. for now you would enjoy a shared meal as few as they came of late.
it didn't take much for you both to avoid tales of work. each of you experienced enough in the city to detail the less mundane parts of your days. cyno was retelling a brief discussion he'd had with tighnari's father while crossing the desert into aaru village while you stored away the leftovers for him to take tomorrow.
“but i want to know what i did to deserve this?”
rolling your eyes playfully, you placed the packaged food in reach beyond the cabinet doors but safely out of range of ali. the said feline thief was happily scarfing down the leftovers you'd spared. no doubt adding to the plushness he'd picked up over the years, something you were both a culprit and a teaser of when stroking his furry belly.
passing by cyno, you dropped a kiss to the top of his head, narrowly avoiding his attempt to capture you as you stored away the corked bottle. “you always deserve it, you're a wonderful partner.”
it was true. in your haste and vulnerable state the two of you had hashed out the worst of what his job could do to you. it has been the first time it had come between you and neither had been prepared for the downfall. with time, it has been a tumble you'd managed to recover from.
vermillion eyes followed you with a glint of amusement tinged with faint disbelief. so you were a bit of a favor counter. so what. it was a healthy system for couples when the time called for it.
found out, there was no longer a need to prolong it.
“cyno, what do you know about gaining clearances in the library?” surely he'd managed some cases by now of daring students attempting to seek forbidden research.
he frowned hesitantly, not expecting the inquiry. folding his arms against his chest, he relaxed in his seat.. “it goes through the administrative office. from there on the head scribes process the requests.”
upon the mention of the scribes, one name in particular came to mind. when yusef had mention the process, you had only thought of interns scurrying around filing away requests. you hadn’t considered it might end up on his desk in particular.
your nose curled at the thought of willingly seeking out the man. it wasn't worth reliving the road of mementoes reflecting on your years knowing alhaitham. you knew him best through your fellow kshahrewar classmate, kaveh. since the two of them becoming housemates, you'd began seeing the man on more than one occasion. your acquaintanceship was an interesting set up.
part of it stemmed out of challenging one another, the other half genuine respect and interest. but as you grew into your respective roles, alhaitham began to draw away from the group. a sequence of events leading to his rejection of the position of general mahara in favor of grand scribe..
now you all just sort of breezed by. it wasn't to say that you outright ignored him, there just wasn't the same chemistry anymore. tighnari simply had nothing more to do with the akademiya. cyno preferred to keep in on a professional basis.
and you … you just didn't see the point of trying to be amicable with the ass.
“really…alhaitham?”
cyno gave you a considering look but obliged. “he oversees a few administrative duties surrounding knowledge. he would only make sense that he would also be responsible for the security of more sensitive information.”
okay, that made sense. you hated to hear it, but you knew there was a reason why the man had turned down prosecution over administration. why enforce the rules when you can make them? it was certainly easier to bend them that way.
thumbing your chin, you regrettably came to the conclusion. “i suppose i should make an appointment with the grand scribe then.”
cyno stopped tinkering with his akasha to look at you with more scrutiny. you could tell he wanted to ask, the question was brewing at the tip of his tongue. yet he held it at bay with a nod. sometimes it was better if he didn't know until he needed to. he trusted you to make smart choices.
raking together the rest of the courage you'd reserved for the night, you sided closure and leaned back against the matra's thigh while your arm looped behind his neck.
“sure the infamous general mahatra can't sway a bit of judgement?”
it wasn't that you couldn't follow the progression of things. as a member of the akademiya you had every right to request material. just like it had every opportunity to be denied. to be frank, neither of you were on highly cordial terms with the grand scribe. but you were mannerable in public.
but what cyno had that you didn't was an elevated status that surely came with some perks. you were dating the general mahamantra after all.
“ i would much rather you go through the official process rather than seeking him out.” a flicker of something lights up his gaze like a flash of lightning before it's gone. cyno taps your nose when you pout. he presses a kiss in turn, holding the gesture until you smile. “this … thing isn't sensitive is it?”
your frown at the hesitant probing. there weren't many things that you withheld from cyno, partly due to the reason that he was the one person who made that feat practically impossible. coming to live with him meant that boundaries were considered, however, he promised to not get over involved unless it was necessary.
“no, no. i can just put it in.”
it wouldn't be enough to put you at the top of the priority list, but certainly they would review it eventually, right? you winced at the idea of the kind of questions that would come from that. while you weren't named in the trial, abu was known as a colleague of yours. there would be … some hesitation. maybe seeking out the great scribe wouldn't be a bad idea?
you flinched surprised at the soft nip you received on your ear. “ow! what?”
“I'm glad you're getting back into research again,” he shrugs nonchalantly. but it was kind of a big deal. you'd once been determined to challenge the akademiya's smartest to develop fresh ideas in the technology industry. innovations to rival snezhnaya. but after the incident with abattouy, you began feeling as though institution only liked knowledge they could control.
“and that earns me a bite?”
cyno gives you an inquisitive look, eyes brimming with retrained mirth. it reminded you of the man beyond the title of general that most didn't see. his position bore the weight of responsibility and had chiselled away at the curiosity that once burrowed his nose and books; encouraged him to spend time learning old languages, urged him to cross the lands to save a girl.
you didn't understand at first, when tighnari gave up the life of a scholar for reclusiveness of the forest. in enough years, the man could have been one of the sages at his rate.
but now, the more you visit him in his forestry escape you realize how much he didn't change. still he had had rather … concerning the level of snarky, sarcastic views on the akademiya with no fear … he was still tighnari.
cyno was—
cyno was still kind. he loved you and that was enough. it was. you just hated that sometimes it felt like a fact.
it was a true statement. a guideline he followed. students were to be monitored. you were to be loved. there was nothing in between. no allowances. sure the occasional jokes softened the edges but there was no denying what he was to the akademiya.
not even when you had pleaded, flushed and damp with tears for him to just listen to what abattouy had to say. to not follow instruction so blindly and consider that life wasn't such a straight line.
but what weight did you have to throw around demanding that when you'd been so content to accept his love. abattouy had been wrong and yet.
with a shudder, you curl deeper into his arms. today's revelation wasn't about picking old wounds.
cyno buries his face in your neck with a hum and that was enough to warm your body.
“just be careful, okay?”
it didn't take much consideration as the night progressed for you to decide to go against the grain anyway. cyno's advice was well intended but it posed more immediate risks than you were ready to face right now. at this stage, you just needed more information to ask questions. and you were too early into the development process of this research to provide a strong enough thesis for your intentions.
you couldn't well enough just say you intended to prove that the akademiya was wrong in prosecuting your friend without allowing him a fair defence.
and as cyno helpfully mentioned, it was going to go through alhaitham regardless. so why not beat to the chase and avoid the fanfare?
you vaguely recall responding to cyno moving from bed at an earlier hour. it wasn't often that him rousing woke you, but the occurrences weren't unwelcomed as you accepted the brief affection before he departed for the day.
it wasn't until it was nearing lunchtime that your body finally gave up on clinging to sleep. you decided to open the shop late today, confident that the flow of customers wouldn't suffer from the decision.
there was no reason for you to know the grand scribe's schedule so you didn't bother trying to scout him out at the crack of dawn. from what you understood, unless he wanted to found he was rarely sought out. much like your own lover.
still the man had a penchant for appearing sporadically whenever you roamed the port. there was something about the water-side market that tended to attract his attention but that was a curiosity that was not your own. he would serve you better than seeking him out at his office.
but what you had that most didnt, or simply they just had no need for the knowledge, was the man's favorite spot to brood. and it just happened to be nearing the end of the lunch period where everyone was returning to their respective assignments—also known as peak 'brooding' time in alhaitham's language.
you climbed the final row of steps to find eymen clearing away a few dishes.
“hey, has alhaithamn been by?”
the bartender seems more started by the actual question than the sharp interruption in his task. ever practised, however, he holds the plates and cups steady as he regards you. “just missed him actually.”
biting back a curse, you take the knowledge gratefully as you depart from which you came. there was only a short amount of time before he returned to his office and you did not want to have this conversation around inquisitive ears.
it was becoming apparent though, that something came with an appointment for a reason as you scoured the market to no end. either the man was on a mission or he truly did not wish to be found, either way he was unknowingly earning your ire with every wasted minute.
it was by chance that you caught sight of the silver head of hair right before it crossed the intersection. hastening your steps, you sidetracked into one of the adjacent alleys in preparation to cut him off.
you just managed to beat him, unable to resist expressing your exasperation by thrusting your foot into his path.
the grand scribe, either lost in thought or simply not expecting to be assaulted in public, barely manages to maintain his ground from sword training alone. his head whips back in pursuit of his assailant, anger flattening at the sight of you.
“and what honor have i been given to receive the lover of the general mahamantra?”
your lip curled at the title alhaitham loved to coin you as. no one else dared to try the same out of principle and something else called human decency. you were regretting your poor foot placement, perhaps a knuckle to the jaw would have been more effective.
somewhere across the plains, cyno was no doubt regretting sharing the tidbit of information that got you here.
nodding your head to the alley you emerged from, you silently requested that he followed. the man regarded you for a moment before his footsteps echoed as you led him away from the city traffic. however, as you began to slow, alhaimtahn urged you to continue before leading you to stop near the edges of the pier. with the port at your back, there was no concern of wandering ears beyond your gaze. with an incline of his head, you spoke.
“i need permission to access additional texts at the library.” you don't bother sugarcoating your reason for being here, you would both appreciate your time more.
any of his annoyance sobers at the request. his brow flexes with interest,” what text?”
“old machines.”
there was a part in his lips, the sound smothered before it could become the laugh he so desperately wanted to get out. he seemed equally aware of how quickly you'd try to stomp it out in turn. “getting bold in his absence aren't you?” he doesn't use the title this time, and the implication is very clear.
your foot taps impatiently against the wooden planks as you look at anything but him. “nothing gets past him.” it was the truth, in a sense. he was aware that you were requesting access, just not the avenue you took.
alhaitham is unable to resist cracking a grin. your lips wobble in response. “something tells me he doesn't know of the topic.”
any evidence of a grin washes from your face as your gaze narrows. “i didn't realize it would be that much of a problem.”
“if it wasn't it wouldn't be restricted.”
the silence is filled with a coat of tension weaved from years of thread spanning your unconventional relations. it took effort to describe what alhaitham was to you. years ago, he was a colleague, a spirited mind among the incoming class of students. sometime after, he became a frequent acquaintance while you would seek out kaveh for studies. it was sometime before your graduation that his goals came in between what could have been a friendship as he veered away from something more stable.
now it was by chance if you were seen together at akademiya sponsored events.
alhaitham was the first to relent, a rare cop out as he raised his hands in complacene, “look, that's between you and him, don't put me between it. as for the access, i can get that granted.”
you blink in surprise, not expecting it to be given so easily without additional favors. alhaitham reads your surprise with a raised brow. “I just grant access, you know who deals with disciplinary.”
alhaitam crowds closer as you peer up at him suspiciously,”i didn't realize the two of you were so keen on mixing business and pleasure.”
realization hits you and alhaimtan rolls back on his heels, narrowly missing the jab of your elbow.
“you're such a dick.”
he laughs, an easy sound that could give the wrong impression of being something more.”yeah, whatever, give me a few hours and you'll have your access.” he's unable to resist knocking his shoulder into yours as he passes. “oh and next time, make an appointment,''
you swallow around the lump of the words but manage to get them out, “thank you.”
he shrugs, back already turned, “don't thank me yet.”
sure enough, alhaitham comes through as you're finishing up at the shop for the day. you decide to save the trip to the library for tomorrow, however. that distance could easily eat up the rest of your day. a few more projects had been added to your work schedule and you'd spent most of the day after returning from the port tying off the ends of some of your older ones.
through infrequent breaks, your attention drifted towards the notebook stored away in the wall panels of the shop. whatever in the texts coulndt have been enough for abu if he still hadnt been able to complete his research. still the sages feared what the material could implant in the minds of ambitious individuals. for now you just needed a starting point, and recreating his steps was the best way.
upon closing the shop for the day, you were greeted with a quiet home. it was unlikely that you would get two early nights in a row with cyno. he didn't mention anything permanent before he left this morning but you were well practiced enough to know.
you fell asleep that night curled against ali, thinking about tinkering cogs until it faded to black.
you ended up returning to the library two days later than planned. while you would never turn away new projects, the unexpected swarm had cluttered your small workspace before you knew it. you were certainly far from the only engineer available in the port, but the name you made for yourself was something to be proud of. not ever accomplishment was measured by the akademiya.
you had a penchant for tinkering with everyday technology that could help ease the tasks of others. it's how you fell into such an easy colleagueship with abattouy. you both chased similar goals, just across different avenues.
finally satisfied with your progress, packed away everything for a trip to the house of daena. upon you arrival, you found that yusef wasn't manning the desk and you dont bother stopping for an unfamiliar face. the clearance alhaitham gave came with additional instructions leading you towards the center of the library.
your akasha triggered in response to the elevator, the mechanisms behind whirling to rise to the higher levels. the akasha alone could supply you with details. but you would need to know what to ask to even begin to leaf through the material. it was why hardcopies were still prevalent. by reading you would immerse yourself in knowledge you weren't initially seeking and help fill in the inevitable blanks.
this part of the building had lower ceilings and fortunately lower shelf access. the terminal led you where you needed to go, putting you in front of a small but lucrative selection. the titles ranged from history to expedition research notes. you spent over an hour reading through the texts before you bagan running into a similar theme.
you were right to assume your sole knowledge through the akasha would be limited. the sharp black lines redacting sections of the material would not translate well through the terminal. the summary would have glossed over anything near the restriction zone in order to produce comprehensive data.
even then from what you could tell, these expeditions focused more on the area around the ruin machines rather than their direct purpose. anything more detailed wouldn't be accessible to you regardless of what you knew.
you slide the last book back into its place. it was safe to assume anything that abattouy had managed to conjure had been destroyed. the same went for any resources he'd been able to glean from his own studies. the akademiya didn't leave behind trails.
but abattouy had been so determined then. surely there was something more than his own will fueling his research.
you reasoned that he could have used a knowledge capsule but that would imply that kind of information had been passed round. typically those devices were destroyed after the information had been transferred. the sages were well aware of the illegal distribution of knowledge. something like this wouldn't have been so carelessly stored. no, it had to be gone.
regardless, you couldn't really risk gambling away money on a knowledge search. that kind of expense would draw attention at home that you didn't have answers for yet.
your back hit the shelf behind as you slunk to the ground.
you'd hit a stone wall, one with no weak points that you could exploit. it had already been a risk telling allhaitham what you were looking into. by granting access you were already likely being monitored. it would be smart to just leave it here.
and yet.
abattouy wouldn't have just stopped here—didn't baulk under the pressure. you recall him going on research trips into the forests. once or twice you'd mentioned some tips from tighnari.
what he couldn't find in the library he would have gone out to find for himself.
but where abattouy had been an aimless wanderer.
you had a guide.
if the akademiya taught you one thing, it was that if information was not readily available to you, then it was your duty to go out and discover it. this creed was the heart of all expeditions towards the furtherment of acquiring knowledge.
there was a time that you'd hoped to use this guidance to eventually make your way to the foreign lands of snezhnaya but fate had another way of taking hold of your future.
for now, you would accept the resources that you had available at hand as you stood comfortable at the root of gandharva village.
through your inventions alone, you were a rather comfortable occurrence at the forest ranger headquarters. due to lacking a vision, both tighnari and cyno were reluctant when it came to acquiring your own research. most of your data and analysis came through the fox and any of the rangers he roped into the experiment.
your other reason for returning to the village, came in the form of the timid but gradually blossoming trainee.
it had been years, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday when cyno returned leading the frail girl back home. the two of you were nowhere near where you were now, but as a trio with tighnari, you each played a part in helping her reacclimate back into sumeru.
a smile curled at your lips at the memory of collei clinging to cyno even weeks after returning. the man had come to you on multiple occasions lost and harboring a shadow additional to his own. you suppose in a way, collei played a part in the progression of your relationship.
the two of you were close by academic aquantainship, strengthened by tighnari's sole tolerance in the two of you, but outings and dinners shared to cement the girl's comfort in her securer future had been the finalizing thread.
cyno had stolen you from your studies just as a secondary excuse to travel to gandarvale village, hand gripped tight with yours whenever tighnari wizened to his presence.
everything else just came together, natural and right.
a flash of green was all the warning you got before your body tensed in preparation, the additional weight briefly set you off kilter before your arms came around the girl. the smile staring up at you was infectious as those bright purple eyes danced with excitement.
“i was wondering when you would come to visit again! my sumeru rose bloomed, you have to come see it.”
despite her aversion to touch, collei was more than comfortable leading you confidently through the village bustle up to the bungalow she called home. you managed to interact with a few familiar faces along the way, limited to short greetings with as quickly as you reached your destination.
“see!”
collei was nothing but proud as she presented the purple flower which stood tall under the tutelage and care she provided. as not only her pseudo guardian but mentor, collei did not stand idly under tighnari's supervision. her interest in flora and its medicinal properties bled from the fox's teaching into her own drive and motivation.
everyone was rather transparent about not teasing her too much when it came to her dedication. tighnari bore most of the weight as you had no qualifications of hanging his protege's progression over his head. rather than bending to the jest, the fox only took it seriously confidant that he could best anything the akademiya could teach. though you doubted the girl had any aspirations of enrolling after growing up in tighnari's view of the institution.
the girl preened under the press of your palm as it smoothed the crown of her head,” that's amazing, collei. you didn't miss a step. i hope tighnari was just as impressed.” your congratulatory tone edged towards the tune of a threat as you recalled his stern form of instruction.
it was fortunate the girl had such hardened resolve but it still took some physical encouragement to remind the fox that even the smallest achievements warranted praise. a smile curled at your lips at the thought. you took pleasure in being one of the few things the fox feared.
the headquarters was a tight knit collaboration, so it was no surprise to hear the man in question responding to his name.
“yes, i made sure that the accomplishment did not go unnoticed.”
tighnari's smile was easy but the flicker of his ears told another story. collei, poor girl always ready to defend, seconded it.
“yes! he even gave me some padisarah seeds to grow next. the terrarium helps keep them fresh out of season.”
you frowned at the challenge. padaisarahs had a difficult time alone surviving in the wild. nevertheless, the girl seemed undeterred.
collei had been very impressed with the terrarium you'd built for tighnari, never missing the chance to compliment the invention. despite knowing the answer, she'd timidly asked if you'd be willing to build her one in the future. while you had no qualms with doing it within the next few weeks if your schedule allowed, tighnari had been more strict explaining that she needed more studies before being trusted with such an invention.
despite the urge to oversee him just to spoil the girl, you could see where he came from. the terrarium was meant to cultivate the plants independently so that tighnari could focus his attention more in the forest. it took care of the crucial elements needed to nurture plants that collei still needed to learn.
but that didn't mean she couldn't have it and still be educated.
“speaking of the terrarium, since you're here. do you mind tweaking it a bit? i need to increase the temperature threshold to mimic the desert better.”
well, there goes a cashable favor without putting yourself in debt.
giving collei one last pat, you turned down the familiar path to tighnari's abode.
"of course. if you're free, i actually need a favor as well.”
tighnari hummed, already curious,” and what can i do for you?”
you waited until the privacy of tighnari's entrance leaves closed behind the two of you. using the opportunity of a distraction, you crouched in front of the device already knowing what controls to manipulate to get what was needed.
“i need an escort into the avidiya.”
tighnari's suspicion is palpable behind your back, “what for?”
“i want to see one of the dormant machines.” sticking your head into the base of the device, your voice echoed out. “i was recently given additional access to records on them and wanted to compile some field notes as well.”
tighanari was quiet for a moment, though you don't dare to look back. the task was complete yet your hands still move idly, checking over other features.
the fox was no doubt outweighing the pros and cons of just acquiring the data himself like most of what he shared with you. as of late, there the influx of reports about the forest never seemed to cease.
“a few have been reacting to the spilling fissures from the ley lines. at times it can be like walking along land mines … it's not very safe.”
you had suspected as much. abattouy had managed to make it that far in his research. he had made note of how inventors in the past had used the ley lines as a sort of spiritual medium to power the machines. it made sense that the power of celestial could bring life to inanimate creatures.
history lessons filled in the gaps from there. from the archons wars to the fall of khaenri'ah, any outlet of power was used towards domination and the creation of visions. no one had bothered to remember the forgotten guardians that remained impassive still protecting the lands that gave them home.
it was obvious that sumeru had enough issue with corrupted ley lines wreaking havoc. the last thing they wanted was to encourage curious minds to discover new ways to taint that power. but surely if they just allowed more time an alternative answer could have been found … with the proper resources abattouy could have made a difference. of that much you were certain.
unable to deliberate much longer, you eventually turned to observe tighnari's pensive gaze. fortunately, he was trained elsewhere as his hand curled against his chin.
“i happen to know of one stationed not too far from the village. we roam the area enough where it runs the lowest risk of coming into contact with the withering zones. if we
are quick, i can take you before i need to return for my own patrol.”
a relieved breath warmed your cheeks, “that would be great, thank you tighnari.”
“of course, let us start then.”
tighari spared a brief moment to rearrange a few items in the terrarium before closing the display. he expressed his gratitude with a quiet thanks before he was off.
the fox led the way, but you remained in close step. tighnari didn't have much to say and you were comfortable enough in the recesses of your mind to not be bothered by the lack of conversation. your thoughts kept returning to the notebook and the array of blueprints you'd sketched throughout the week.
abattouy hadn't let the fear of the withering zones keep him from researching the ruin guards. you wondered how often he came in contact with those awakened and more importantly how he escaped. you never recalled tighnari specifically calling him out when he recalled the tales of stupidity he dealt with throughout the days.
in wake of the expulsion and disappearance, he hardly spoke of him at all.
“how's cyno?”
you gaze slowly refocused as your mind caught up with the distance you'd already traveled in your stupor. the village was lost in the trees now.
“you know … working, as usual.”
you'd long lost any ire over the lull in his presence. it was just the consequence of his job and you wouldn't fault him for it given it was something he took pride in. the two of you managed to make it work where it mattered.
“hm, well at least you can say you got out of the shop.”
and there was that … without him here, you were prone to spending more hours working than you should. it was a fault you both could work on, though circumstances hardly favored the practice.
“yeah, there's that.”
the pair remained silent again as they followed the lush vegetation down the sloped path. the noon sun hung high but the trees were dense enough to shade their walk, cooling the air around them. it made sense how tighnari was able to stay comfortably down here, soaking in the cool moisture that hung in the air.
tighnari cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. “it's right over there.”
you followed the line of his arm, easily locating the dormant machine nestled against the cliff side. it appeared to be imprisoned by the overgrowth of vines, tangling its limbs and growing between the joints. tighnari was right, it didn't look like it had moved for ages.
“I'll take you closer but please be mindful.”
he continued to lead you down off the stout edge, hands carefully guiding as you slide the rest of the way down. tighnari didn't stop you as you approached the ancient structure, so you snapped up the loose leash while you could.
in classes, instructors would briefly brush over their existence. offered old photos similar to the reality you were standing in now. but they never delved further than that, withholding any information that gave any life to the idea of them.
but this was the first time you'd seen one up close. the time-worn metal under your fingertips felt like it still held every bit of its integrity despite resting listlessly for so long. you doubted tighnari would let you linger.
you carefully flitted around the slumbering machine, not quite sure what you were looking for but hoping for a revelation all the same. there was no indication that the thing had been disturbed, by internal or external forces. not even the path to it seemed worn.
it would have been too much to ask for evidence of a camp or even forgotten notes. tighnari had already told you that it was patrolled often, so anything of value would have already been reported. what you needed was to find the ones not disclosed, hidden alcoves where a ruin and possibly a human could hide out. but that wasn't a place you would be able to wander across easily.
when tighnari made an exaggerated shuffling sound behind, you knew your time was up.
“tighnari … how do you feel about mechanical life?”
he breathed out a nasally sigh as he shook his head. the soft considering smile that graced his lips let you know that you weren't challenging anything.
“I was wondering when you would ask.” he nodded his head back towards the path, eager to start the return trip. as you filed in next to him, he spoke. “I believe all things deserve a chance at life. it's those who wished to study it that i have my qualms with. simply existing is a sacred thing that shouldn't be manipulated.”
his steps bring him closer, and you look up to find his offered hand.
he pulls you up with little effort. “it left a bitter taste in my mouth thinking of how mechanical life would be controlled and hindered by such simplistic lives. they're inherently restricted to their creators are they not.”
that was true. from what you'd read thus far, while they were about to 'adapt' it was impossible to do so without influence and instruction. mechanical life would never be able to reproduce on their own or properly source themselves without intervention. it meant that they would never get to decide their purpose, left to just fulfill it or be destroyed.
“doesn't it make you a little sad?”
tighnari looks back towards the machine.
“humans and animals alike live and die once their purpose has extinguished. yet these things, they lay waste for centuries just waiting for their next order. it's hard to want to support giving life to such things, you know?”
you did. but you also understood that like most tools, in the right hands both sides could benefit. but this wasn't a topic you were willing to have allowed just yet.
“thank you tighnari for bringing me here.”
the fox hums as he considers you. he was an intellectual being, no doubt being about to remain resourceful and well knowledged even after leaving the akademiya, you were sure he had his suspicions and concerns, but he also respected your boundaries and trusted your decision making.
shaking his head with a sight that spanned long years of friendship.
“anything for you.”
the pat on your back is dual purpose, as it urges you forward.
“now, let's hurry i may have some time before i depart. i don't know about you but im starving. i grew some new mushrooms in the terrarium that i want to try.”
you made a face as you recalled the headache tighnari put you through as you tweaked the machine to his liking. all to protect the future of forestry medicine. “i thought you planned to use that for actual research?”
tighari's nose twitched at your accusation, “i'll take that response as you're not hungry.”
it becomes a little too easy for you to slip back into old habits of long nights in the shop over the next few days. cyno had sent word that he was on another investigation, meaning that the hunt could span well into the week depending on how obstinate his target was.
for a man who was determined to prove himself amicable, he never failed to live up to the fearsome legends surrounding his character. part of you almost felt sorry for the poor soul who suffers the dichotomy of addressing their crimes and your lover's attempt of a joke.
laughing at the memory of one, your shoulders sag at the place in your prior train of thought. since your last walk-in customer just after lunchtime, you'd been pouring over the mess of notes.
you hadn't let yourself linger too long on the lack of clues surrounding the slumbering machine. while thumbing further through the notebook, you began noticing certain text that reminded you of another's observations. after some light digging, you uncovered some of the log books from tighnari's investigations of withering zones.
both texts highlighted the effects of the ley lines zones, but whereas tighnari focused on its destruction, abbattouy had discovered a hidden attribute; a power source. though, perhaps 'forbidden' was a better term. this was likely the first strike used as evidence against him.
sumeru didn't need the jurisdiction of the akademiya to keep people from tamping too closely with ley lines. too much exposure would take a life before the research could be completed if one wasn't careful enough.
but abbatouy was smart, surely he'd figured out how to withstand the element long enough to conduct his experiments. it was a little worrying how little he seemed to account for his own ailments in his notes.
both scholars likened the absence of wildlife to exposed ley line fissures as a key indicators but where tighnari further delved into decay and miasma, abattouy spoke about the thrum of power and waking essence.
'the heartbeat of a god.' he called it.
while you weren't too confident about your knowledge on irminsul.
it was a starting point.
gaze flickering out the window, you noted how the sun was still hanging comfortably in the sky. it wouldn't hurt to make a few observations of your own. there was no chance of a discovery but becoming more familiar with the forest would help you narrow down your search.
tighnari assured you that the man had not made a home in the forest. but that didn't mean he didn't frequent it.
all you needed was a sign.
you didn't venture out unarmed, the echoing voice of a tighnari beating you lingering with every questionable action. as it was, the world was filled with less vision-holders than those who were blessed by the gods. as a child, you'd felt slighted from being overlooked but as you got over you came to learn that everyone had a designation.
those who had the gift did their part, and the rest of you moved along just well.
being acquainted with tighnari's experimentation with his vision in your early days of education were more fruitful than just a regular headache. while exploring the scholarly uses, he had also made it a point to bolster your defences. being with cyno only doubled down on the lessons of importance.
if not for the purpose of taking on the world, to at least give you a fighting chance against stray mercenaries.
capsules of knowledge also went a long way with strengthening your approach. you weren't a master of the art, but in the event of a sticky situation your odds were higher than without.
equipped with that resolve, you headed down the narrow path of the main merchant roads. from your frequent trips to gandharva village, you had a jist of what roads were meant to be avoided. it had taken some time, but eventually you felt confident navigating towards your destination. at least when you were on the correct path. you'd always known the dangers of veering. tighnari's guidance a few days prior had also played a part in highlighting the features most rangers instruct visiting parties to avoid.
unfortunately, you'd be using sad information against its desired use.
so where they advised those to go left, you angled right, making careful progress through the trampled brambles and strewn vines. while you descended further into the forest, you watched the sky while noting the sun's position between the treetops. starting later in the afternoon helped you avoid the worst of the high noon temperature, but it also ate up your flexibility with time.
this trip was meant to help you get a starting point, practice the evasion of vigilant rangers while preparing yourself for the brunt of the wild. taking a deep breath, you steadied your nerves and tried to enjoy the cooler evening air. while you preferred the port, you could see how tighnari found himself at home here. it was similar to the way cyno made his mark in the desert.
eventually, your pace slowed as the path blurred in terms of familiarity. the only given you knew was up meant out. there was hardly a path at this point, well off course from any guidance post. the only favorable thing was the lack of withering activity.
but still your body felt free of any bearing weight representative of ley line presence, so you carried on.
your fingers danced along the width of your blade as the occasional oburt of wildlife crackled around. rishboldand tigers preferred the trees, but rarely attacked outright without prompting. avoiding lingering under any trees helped ease that. the spinoroks favored the rivers and banks, but fortunately it had been some time since you'd last heard running water. and well dusk birds, it might have been a bit of comfort running across them.
to be frank, it had been quiet awhile since you've noticed any form of fauna. the last time you'd clutched the hilt of your weapon was when you'd spotted some fungi in the distance. had you wandered too far? or were you closer than you expected?
it became apparent, that despite your reading about visual cues, you had not learned much about what exactly coming in contact with ley lines felt like. the wrong amount of exposure could lead to sickness, but most victims hardly recalled being affected until it was too late.
while you enjoyed the accessibility of the akasha, its limitations became glaringly apparent outside of the city. what could have been a quick query would have to wait.
maybe it was just time for you to head back. the sun was hardly visible now but the darkening orange tone was warning enough.
you had been frivolous with your turns, but backtracking shouldn't be impossible. up, you reminded yourself. as long as you reached the top, the flat meadows above would spell out the rest. confident in your assumption, you turned around and headed back.
the feeling held on for a while as you ventured through the forest. some things were familiar, though trees were suspicious contenders. the only comforting thing was the soft click of crickets and lizards slithering at your feet, but even those weren't enough to deter you from the fading light.
you hasten your pace, uncaring of the noise it made as you stepped loudly through the brush.
up, as long as the direction was up you were good.
just up—
it was a chance glance, a brief scope of your surroundings, but it was enough to spot the familiar ridges and dark hues of the ruin slumped against the rock wall. you hadn't seen it on your way down, meaning you were advancing up an alternative path.
for the first time, you cursed your impulsive turns knowing it would take considerable more effort to return to the same spot again. biting your lip, you chanced a look at the treetops knowing what you saw wasn't promising and yet, this was a fleeting chance.
it appeared to be one of the cyclops models, paired with wings for flight. the mechanical ingenious behind designing something of the mass with the capability of flight was an impressive feat in itself.
just a look.
it was a different guard than the one you saw with tighnari, but intimidating all the same. you just need to make a quick check around the area, scour for any signs of disturbance since the machine began its slumber.
unlike the last one, this ruin was free from the tangle of vines and foliage. almost as if it had just been lain to rest yesterday. you wondered if that meant it had in fact been distrubed, by curious hands and minds. there was no evidence of encampment but surely someone had distrubed its resting place.
frowning as you crouched, you fingertips brushed against the grass folded under its weight. what should have been dead and weathered felt plush and smothered. but that couldn't be right.
hidden in the depths came the sound of power whirling to life.
your blood turned to ice water as looked up to see the once dull optic blinking into existence. with a shout of surprise you fell back onto your rear before wrapping around to scramble to your feet.
an active ruin.
any floating notes were flung to the recesses of your mind as you favored survival. the machine was slow as it woke up, gears clicking under its weight. you only had a few moments before it gained its wings. you bolded, heading back towards the trees for coverage.
but its safety was no longer a promise as a bolt of power cut through the bark, narrowly missing you. the rumble of cracking wood forced your body into a roll as you darted to the next, barely clearing the distance before another beam shattered it.
your arms came up to protect yourself from the destruction, flesh exposed to the explosion of wood as it cut into your body. you sucked in a harsh breath as the searing heat spanned the width of your arm, but did not spare a moment to check.
the weapon against your thigh felt like a comical reminder as you slide into the next wall of coverage. a mercenary you could cut, but what was the possibility against a ruin?
for one, you wouldn't settle for death.
you threw your leg to the side, rolling out of the way over another blast. your nails dug into earth scrambling for purchase as you hastily found your feet. you could sob at the slight but noticeable incline as you discovered the path up.
there wasn't enough research on ruin's optic strength, but you doubted yours was any better. the darkening sky would be more favorable to it. the sound of it powering up came again, and you forced yourself to sprint up the incline to the next temporary safety.
it was still a journey up, but distance would have to be your defence. it could fly, but there had to be limitations. even as it hovered, it didn't appear to be able to get but a few feet off the ground. height would have to be your advantage.
arms coming around your head, you braced for another blast. the skin around your wound protested against the movement, but you held your breath through the pang of pain. the moment the light from its attack ended, you took off again, clawing your way up the path.
it seemed that your theory was favorable, though you are still forced to roll away from the edge as another blast shot up towards you. the dense foliage covering the treetops obscured whatever vision it had, the stray beam of power that came next well off course.
still you didn't pause your pace until the treelines thinned and the forest bled away. the adrenaline gave out just as sun dipping into the hilled plains of ardavi valley came into view, your body finally giving out under the pressure as you fell to your hands and knees. you pressed your scraped palms against your face, the salt from your exasperated yet relieved tears burning the cuts.
you'd survived.
it was well into the night when you'd managed to stumble home. you were sure you were quite the sight to any of your straggling neighbors. you tried to be polite, but kept conversation to a minimum, wanting to keep much of this excursion from getting back to cyno.
during the walk home, you tugged the leaves and foliage free from your clothing and hair before fussing over the weeping wound. it wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches but it would hurt for a bit. after you patched it up you could come up with a plausible story for cyno.
for now, you just wanted to clean up and settle your nerves with a cup of tea.
name had yowled at your feet as you stumbled through the door, no doubt protesting his late dinner. you tried to place him as you steered towards the bathroom, stripping the dirt ridden clothes as you went.
the spray of water felt good as it washed away the grim, puddling murky suds at your feet. before the water cut off, you made sure to run your arm under the water to prep it for treatment.
clothed in the towel, you lowered yourself to the ground unable to ignore the burning against your arm. rummaging through the cabinets, you dragged the aid kit to your feet. it had been awhile since it made an appearance. as you got older, your shop mishaps began less frequently aside from the occasional hammered finger or contact burn.
you'd shut the door to the bathroom in order to work inhibited, so the angry meows from name were expectant. out of consideration, you had not lingered in the shower and attempted to patch yourself up just as quickly.
“give me a second, ali. i promise to give you an extra helping.”
what you weren't expecting was a reply.
“so it is you who is sneaking him treats?”
your body jolted at the sound, the action jarring your wound as you hoisted with a sharp cry. the sound was the least reassuring thing you could offer as you scrabbled against the edge of the tub to come to a stand.
cyno was quiet on the other as he tested the knob,”i'd like to come in, if that's okay?”
his voice was patient but the curl of concern wasn't something you could ignore. with a sigh you look around at the mess of supplies you'd accumulated, at this point there was no point in hiding out.
“yeah.”
the door eased open carefully, consider your proximity. for what it was worth, cyno managed to remain relatively calm as he crouched before you.
his touch is attempted as he prods the area around the wound, no doubt thinking the worst. “how did this happen?”
the lie slips all too easily through your lips. “got careless leaning against the table. too many nearby tools.”
cyno's brow furrows as he inspects the wound but seems to accept the reasoning. there wasn't a trail of deception in your past for him to rummage through leaving him with only face value to determine.
still it doesn't help to remove the frown marrowing his lips as he works the bandage around the wound. he's more practiced in the art, keeping it firm but comfortable enough for flexion. though from the sharp pain you hiss through upon trying the flexibility, you doubt you'll be utilizing full range of motion much.
when you decide to go for a kiss of gratitude, he presses one light against his work instead.
“it's been a long time since i've seen you hurt.”
you go to shrug, buy find yourself regretting it just as quickly. “just got a little careless. i'll be more mindful.””
“hm. thank you for trying.”
he holds out a hand and you reach for it … or so you think. the vision of the offer is suddenly split in two and you can tell you've chosen wrong when you stumble forward. cyno quickly gathers you in his arms before you can fall further, the level of concern spiking in his voice.
“I'll handle dinner tonight. you've been on your feet for too long.”
the urge to protest dies on your lip as your world momentarily spins with a lurch from your stomach.
perhaps a nap wouldn't be too bad.
cyno made it a point to be at home more after the incident it was a welcome addition peppered with gratuitous opportunities to spoil you. he'd personally posted a note against your workshop door to alert any customers of your absence during your rest. he spent his time between reporting to the akademiya cooking meals and showering you with attention.
ali took the most advantage, always present to curl into his lap.
for a few days, you were able to forget what even had you bed ridden. the short bout of imbalance had not occurred since the time in the bathroom, though you did experience brief nausea at dinner. you accounted it all to the lingering effects of adrenaline from that night.
“i told you i would cook today.”
the matra were surely fearing a prophesied end with the amount of sick days cyno was taking to remain home with you. he tended to linger in the shadows when he wasn't needed, but the pressure of his presence wasn't an easy thing to ignore.
that was quite alright with you, it was quite a pleasant feeling him against you.
“you and ali looked so comfortable in your nap, i couldn't do it to him,” you explained, glancing over your shoulder before quickly turning your attention back to the pot to suppress a grin. clothed in a loose shirt, stretched from sleep, he was an adorable sight with his mused hair and lazy limbs.
cyno sighed and pulled out a chair from the table. the sound he made as he audibly sagged into the seat meant he hadn't woke up on his own accord. you wonder if it had been the clatter of pans or the aroma wafting from them.
either way, you couldn't suppress the tinge of guilt. despite being more at home, he hadn't stopped moving. finding him slouched with ali had been a welcomed shock.
you prepared a kettle for tea, knowing he wouldn't enjoy the dredges of sleep clinging to him. though he would write it off as laziness, the way his body fought for just a few minutes of rest spoke louder. you nudged a warm brew into his palm.
“it's been awhile since you've been to the forest. or anywhere not work related really.” encouraging the general to take a vacation was a dull blade, but you knew he lingered in the desert whenever a case pulled him that far. it was a small victory to cling to.
“I've been investigating something. it's taking up more of my time.”
typically the discussion of expelling students wasn't a cheerful conversation to have, but there were few things else to glean from his workday beside the few jokes he tested on you. it wasn't as if you didn't want to talk about it, sometimes you just wished the two of you had other things to discuss besides students and projects.
“have you considered…maybe taking a break after this assignment?”
cyno set aside his cup of tea, eyes shinning with low simmering mirth, “kettle … pot?”
you rolled your eyes. perhaps you both had an issue with overworking yourselves, but at least you had gandharva village in your arsenal. cyno just relied on his patrols and reports in lieu of ongoing cases.
but there was no denying neither of you had broken routine in quite sometime. maybe after all of this was over, you could change that. cyno had told you he'd like to take you to the desert one day.
reaching out, you curled your fingers into the tuff of hair that always hung over his ears. cyno leaned into the touch, crown pressed against your palm as you smoothed back the braids. “maybe save some of those vacation days…?” you probed hesitantly.
cyno pursed his lips and then reached beside you for his cup and lifted it to his lips for a sip. ''I'll consider it.”
though you didn't say anything, your face unintentionally twisted into something he couldn't ignore. his cup clinked against the table before he extended his arms and tugged you into his lap.
the action brought your faces closer and you couldn't help but shiver at the head between you. at this proximity, you could count every single one of his pale lashes. it was only natural for your eyes to flicker down to his mouth, always so inviting and nicely shaped in a way that you knew if you pressed yours against them, they'd be soft, warm and skillful.
it was cyno's turn for his hands to card through your hair, drifting back to your skull once before returning to hold your cheeks. '' there are still things i want to show you, i haven't forgotten. but i also don't want to be interrupted when that time comes,” he explained sincerely.
it was so honest it made your heart ache. to most it might sound like a stale promise, but you knew it meant he was trying.
unable to resist, you closed the distance for a brief peck,” alright, until then,” you concluded.
by then, things would be different. it would be a moment to celebrate.
in the end, cyno won out and took over the remainder of dinner preparation. unable to do anything but shake your head, you took his seat and polished off the rest of his tea.
with abattouy back in the shop, you at least knew you could decrease your workload. it would take considerable more effort to help cyno shave his down, but you trusted his management of the situation.
in the meantime, you would have to be satisfied with a home full of friends again.
the two of you had just finished dinner when cyno suddenly tensed in his seat. practiced in the relationship, you knew what was coming before he could start apologizing. before he could protest, you pressed a short kiss to his lips and began clearing the table.
duty called.
cyno returned from the bedroom toting his headpiece as you put aside the final dish to dry. his presence warms your back and his hand caresses the top of your head, smoothing down your hair. you nuzzle against his hand in return.
“I'll be home late, don't wait up.”
and thus you returned to a life of normalcy.
ali was an insist ball of fur until you cuddled him with a night time treat. it gave you the space needed to escape to the plush couch seated under the window. with cyno so close, you hadn't been able to properly review your notes, too concerned with the prospect of getting caught.
you still hadn't prepared your explanation in the event of that happening, too determined to address it with the shadow of abattouy at your side.
finally alone, you did put your akasha device to use. you'd promised cyno to take a few days off from the shop, leaving you with little else to occupy yourself as you probed the knowledge library.
it had been a good deal to make and your body certainly healed from the lack of stress. but it was time for you to get back to work.
you spent the remainder of the night before bed off curled by the window while browsing the reports from the bimarstan on recent ley line exposure cases.
headaches.
arrhythmia.
fever.
hallucinations.
these were all symptoms most frequented by the spantamad class in their pursuit to better understand irminsul.
you had no intentions of trying to communicate with the gods, but you weren't invincible if you remained set on this path. it would be imperative that you stayed on top of your health, prior injury aside. bandaging a wound was one thing. the last thing you wanted was to put cyno in the position of escorting you to the distant village in the desert.
you don't personally know anyone who had lost their mind to their studies but the impact swept through the akademiya regardless of how close you were to the subject.
some of the other classes feared that the spantamad's interference was only antagonizing the spirits and thus they suffered the consequences. you couldn't find it in yourself to fault anyone who would trade their own sanity for their beliefs.
the same could be said of the research of mechanical beings.
the akademiya believed they would lead to the destruction of life.
but that was only because they refused to accept any alternatives.
you groan aloud and a hand makes a familiar trip down your face. that would just be a road to look down once abattouy was safe and home.
for now, sleep was the only thing left to consider.
with a tired tsk you urged ali to follow you into the bedroom. it may be back to normal, but that didn't mean you didn't miss the additional warmth in bed.
tomorrow you would resume your research but tonight you would enjoy your last night of rest.
your body lurches forward with a surge of breath, chest heaving from the effort. lungs expand, stretching and reaching for oxygen but never seems to get enough. it doesn't help that it feels as though your bearing the weight of a building.
or a city … as the remnants of one crumble around you.
the light registers as flames as the flicker across your vision. but it's the smoke, its thick and cloying billows blanketing everything in its smog.
“cyno?!”
a cry sounds in the distance. multiple sounds of despair, calling for help, mercy and salvation. none, however, sound familiar, no one you can run to with certainty.
“... tighnari? collei?”
trepidation curls around as you take in the scene. the crackling of wood and tumble of rubble. it's difficult to make out, though it appears the branches feed into something larger, winding together towards the sky. it's the whirling of gears that draws your attention. you recognize the sound as the bean of power charges.
ruins.
you stumble to your feet, frantically grabbing at the first thing in reach. the tasks in conjunction seem too much for you as you stumble and fall back on your rear. nails dig into the withering vines as you drag yourself up a second time. in your right hand, a cut of stone sharp from its breakage cuts into your palm. solidifying it as a weapon, you ignore the cut of blood bleeding around it.
the ruin unleashes its attack in the distance, the beam of light lost in the chaos but the screams roar on. you're helpless to cries, barely able to withstand your own weight as you keep a firm grip on the woven roots.
it must have followed you, rounded up its fallen soldiers and set siege on the city.
it was your fault.
all your doing.
behind you another tree shudders, branches quaking as it falls to its death. in its wake, rises another ruin, broad and glowing as it marches forward.
you have to run. you need to will your frozen limbs. find cyno and run—
you're woken by the sound of a staggered chair and the taste of fear from the recesses of your mind. the strain from your healing wound pulls as you slide out of bed, dragger held tight against your palm.
it's cyno who stumbles into the bedroom moments later is the first to make a sound as his more honed instincts circle your wrist before you can strike.
the weapon tumbles from your palms without protest as realization drains away the fear, replacing it with shame. a shaky hand covers your mouth,” i thought you—”
what did you think?
the crackle of fire
a haunted laugh
your body stiffens as cyno's arms encircle you before you sag into his hold. above your head, he takes in your frazzled state, brow pinched in concern. he takes in your shaky hands, the erratic drum of fingers against your stiff thighs, and the low muttering under your breath of words he doubted you even recognized.
cyno had witnessed you distraught. he'd coaxed you down from frustration.
but this…
“it's alright, i didn't mean to spook you,” he hushes gently as his heart thumps, an uncertain staccato against his chest. ''you're okay.”
he feels your shuddered breath against the scratch of his neck, your arms squeezing tightly around his middle. “I don't know what happened, “ you whispered.
there was never a moment that you ever felt unsafe at home. even without his status as the mahamantra, cyno held a sense of prowess that never failed to fight off the worst of monsters. he was your protector. so what had grown so big that not even he seemed strong enough to keep you safe?
with the fingers at the flesh of your waist, cyno guides you towards the edge of the bed. he disgrauded his head piece prior to entering the bedroom, likely the source of the disturbance, but was still clothed from the day. though neither of you protested as he gathered you close in bed.
sumeru did not sleep.
but some monsters still prowled.
the occurrence of the night before go unsaid but not unnoticed. cyno's troubled gaze follows silently as you flow from one side of the kitchen to the next. he accepts the cup of tea and returns the gesture with the slide of his lips against your cheek.
work is what eventually ushers him out the door despite his desire to linger. he doesn't say it but he wants you to take an additional day off.
still a bit tattered from the restless sleep, you cant help but agree. the better part of the week had been spent cooped up as it was, without brief visits to the shop. fresh air would do you good, to see the city and its inhabitants.
a strange desire to witness the life of the city drives your body into action as you dress and head out the door. the sun was a hesitant welcome as it warmed your skin but the same light irritated your eyes. still you pushed on, hoping the familiar streets would shake off the foreign feelings clinging to your body.
people in the streets greeted you in passing, those more familiar coaxing you closer for a chat. for awhile it proved to be a comfortable distraction as you relaxed under the shade of a canopy conversing about the upcoming festival. the divide between gods very made sense to you given that all the inhabitants of the city had truly only served under one. greater ruk had indeed blessed the gift of wisdom but lesser lord kusanli kept it alive.
given the tragedy in liyue, people should be fortunate that you still had a god.
“its not properly sanctioned, but i believe you would enjoy it.” your fingers flexed under the comforting palms that held your hand. zoya was an old soul, refusing to be swayed by anyone's judgement. she was respectful towards both gods, but swore to use her days of life worshiping the remaining one.
she squeezed your hand with her weathered grip once more before pulling away, “maybe even bring the general.”
that brought a rush of laughter as you shook your head. as if that would happen. zoya grinned, expecting the same with a shrug.
you parted ways with a wave. there would be more of a chance of getting tighnari to humor the akademiya than to convince cyno to visit the festival. just the mention of 'unsanctioned' was warning enough.
“I'm terribly sorry, sir. it was an unexpected loss but i promise to have better inventory next week.”
you paused a stall over, inspecting the fresh harvest of fruits. shopping for perishables was always difficult when cyno was on long investigations, especially when selecting his favourites. it was always a gamble if they would end up being eaten in time.
“that's quite alright, it must be difficult traveling with the eremites lately.”
“no, it wasn't the mercenaries this time … it was this.. this machine. it just came out of no where.”
you stopped short, hand hovering over the selection of zaytun peaches.
“a machine?”
a flashback of the ruin hovering above you menacingly came to mind. had it continued to patrol after you'd made your escape?
“im pretty sure it was. looked like a crab of sorts.”
“sounds odd … sure you didn't get too close to those withering zone?”
you maintained the face of closely inspecting the collection while keeping a keen ear on the conversation. the pair wasn't all to concerned with their carrying voices.
“no, the caravan is pretty good about avoiding those.”
“huh well sorry for your losses. i'll check back next week.”
the merchant's shoulders slumped in defeat of another lost sale.
a crab-like ruin? it didn't sound like anything you'd encountered.
setting down the fruit, you thanked the farmer and crossed the street quickly. there were still valuable details to the story that you could glean. “hi, sorry to —”
the man didnt have the typical exuberant of an expectant merchant,“hello, i'm afraid i'll be closing early today. not much to sell.”
“i actually just have a question. i couldn't help but overhear about the crab ruin attacking the caravan.”
he waved off the inquiry, “it's probably nothing. it was late and we were too at ease with security.”
biting your lip, you switch angles hoping to ease past his guard, “possibly, but i have friends in the forest watch that like to patrol. i can give them a heads up.”
it was enough to give him pause as he considered the offer. the idea of having someone to clear the path for future travels was too good to pass up. “that would actually put our minds a bit at ease. here.”
merchant searches through his belongings and produces a map. its a weathered parchment, but heavily detailed with trade routes and known bandit locations. his points to the newest addition, a hastily drawn figure that must represent the mechanical being.
“it was odd. it only wanted mechanical parts but we lost some good merch in the scuffle.”
he surprises you by handing it over. grateful, you store it away in your satchel. “I'll look into this. sorry for your loss.”
looks like you wouldn't be completely free from business.
you cut your market trip short and cut through the port to your workshop. on the door, cyno's note still remains posted. technically, it was still your day off, so you left it in place.
upon reaching your desk, you unroll the map and use the nearby tools to hold down the corners. the merchants outlined their entire trip with a bold red line, noting the location of the incident with a solid 'x'.
it was no surprise that it had occurred in the forests, ruins were rarely found along the trails in the plains. it was too open and frequently travelled. without looking, you reached out for the notebook tucked away at the back of the drawer.
in one of the pages, abattouy had sketched his own map. a smaller more detailed scope of the forest. you thumbed front to back in search of the page, coming up short with each run through. the book was worn, but you were sure you would have noticed if a page had fallen out.
your forearm caught the back end of the book before it could flip shut, prepared to run through one last time when you felt your arm roll over a small but noticeable indent. perplexed, you twisted your limb too and from, confirming that it wasn't a fluke. however, when you lifted your arm, you were just met with the smooth surface.
or so it seemed.
curious, you finger toyed at the slit at the bottom, working back the frail lining until a fold of paper fell through. moving the book aside, you unfolded the document to find a few sheets of worn reports sealed together with age and pressure.
abattouy was a never ending mystery of hidden wonders. he was becoming less of a surprise how he managed to evade the akademiya for so long.
'... found a large group of mechanisms, similar to the huge walking machinery we previously found at the ruins of gurabad…'
the location sounded familiar from brief memory of the map of sumeru, it was closer to the deserts.
'... found an organization called schwanenritter, and its existence may be confirmed by the legend of ruins of dahri… recorder, trainee dastur, zandik.'
'.. the terrifying killing machine has stopped. zandik insisted on bringing it back to the akademiya to be disassembled and reverse-engineered…'
they appeared to all be remnants of research notes with a common theme: zandik. the name didn't ring any bells, though you had a feeling whatever you found wouldn't be favoured. what plagued you more was how abattouy managed to get a hold of these. not only were the contents alarming but they appeared to be the originals, not recreations.
where had he even collected them from?
you tried not to think too hard about the dark splotches splattered against the corner of one.
for a moment you sat seated just staring into space while fidgeting with the thumb on a wrench. first discovering active ruins, then the reports of ones attacking caravans and now these redacted reports?
before you thought better of it, you directed your attention to the device at your ear.
'who is zandik?'
the silence you received in response was both expected and concerning.
what had abattouy gotten himself into? and more importantly what were you following behind.
“i figured i'd find you here. you're starting to work more than me. cat tolerated one of us but i don't think he'll be forgiving with you.”
starting with a painful thud in your chest, you quickly rearranged the papers on your desk to shroud the letter. cyno never failed to sneak into your abode before, nor did rarely offer an expected arrival time but tonight was the one occasion you truly weren't ready.
“cyno! i—” turning in your seat, you tried to produce a face of carelessly flustered as you rested your elbows on the surface behind you. for once, you were grateful for your erratic and clumsy nature as the mahamantra stared down at you with thinly veiled suspicion.
your heart thumped recklessly against your sternum as the silver haired general approached, not stopping until his long tresses tickled the sensitive skin of your collarbone. you steadily kept his gaze, worried that the slightest distraction would peak his interest to investigate.
you couldn't let him find out … not yet.
cyno, always sensitive to your moods, narrowed his eyes as his palm came to hold your cheek. just when you thought you would face the interrogation of the mahamantra, you felt the soft exhale against your lips before he dropped a brief kiss to the quivering brim.
“come on, we're already out. may as well treat ourselves to dinner.”
you followed mutely as he led you down the intimate winding roads of the port. people shouted and laughed, going on about their day free of the akademiya weighted judgment. once you might have smiled at the thought, but now the sounds felt near unbearable to your ears as you shook away the beginnings of a headache.
it was a strange foreign feeling in a place called home.
you picked up the pace, hoping whatever destination cyno picked would be less boisterous. company aside, the students at the very least would give you a wide berth.
smoke from food stalls filled the air with the smell of meats, spices and breads that made your stomach roll in a way that wasn't pleasant. which was rather unfortunate because it only reminded you of the pings from missing lunch. nothing a single thing smelled like it would quell either ailment, but the thought of sitting in a restaurant felt worse so you pulled at cyno's hand until he stopped.
wordlessly you point towards the line up of food, feeling worse about ruining his plans but more confident it would at least keep your food off his lap if it became too much,
“stalls and the sky?”
cyno blinked and nodded slowly, a small smile crawling at his lips at the code. “stalls and the sky.”
stalls and the sky, had been the coined term for your first date. the saving grace that had swept up the remains of a sure disaster. cyno's popularity with the scholars had not necessarily improved with his tenure, but back then he'd practically been a walking pariah while getting comfortable in the shoes of the general mahatra.
civilians had not blinked an eye, only finding praise for the [hired] individual who would protect the wisdom of the god. but it didn't make for a very comfortable gathering with the constant stars. it was part of the reason you moved from the city and into the port. cyno too had come to enjoy the proximity to the desert.
letting cyno lead rather than you appetite, you remained tucked against him as he ordered a variety of items. every so often his gaze would flicker to you in search of approval but the best you could manage was a shrug. you hated the soft frown it promoted, but your options were limited.
food paid for, you took the lead towards the back of the port near the great trunk in the center. the roads brought you close to the top, but there was an alternative albeit less safe path that awarded a view if daring enough. once under the familiar branch, you hooked your elbows over the curve of wood with a good jump. cyno offered his shoulder for the final launch as you shifted into a seating position.
cyno followed shortly after, more agile as he hopped up with ease. you took the food as to give him room to get comfortable without smothering it.
the wind was less kind up here, whipping at your clothing and around your legs but the view it promised was worth it. the entire port opened up below, leaving the stars and moon free from the glow of the city. if you stared long enough, you could even make out the stretch of the desert wall beyond the dark forest in the distance.
it wasn't private, anyone with curious enough eyes could look up and find the two of you, but it was still yours.
the bag crinkled between you as cyno dug through and handed you a skewer. the fresh air helped a bit, but you still couldn't stomach more than a few nibbles here and there.
“i had to interview a scholar today..”
you frown at the sudden statement. in terms of his work, it wasn't the most unusual task.
“but he was a geo user so i didn't get much of a reaction.”
your lips part to speak, tongue stuck before reluctant laugher falls out. it was soft, slightly incredulous with surprised by how well the intended joke met its mark this time.
“it's because geo visions don't react well with other elements.”
shaking your head, you nod,” yeah, cyno, i know.”
the man smiles, more pleased with the ease of your shoulders than the successful joke.
you bite your lip and try to hang on to the flicker of joy it brought, not ready to fall head first back into your thoughts. but as soon as the joke floated away, the smile faded, no longer reaching your eyes.
this should be a moment to enjoy, not
cyno reaches up and runs his thumb over your lower lip, easing it out from the teeth.
“you can … talk to me about these things.” by things he means the studies, the research and everything. there was a time that you did. occasions where you shared everything, unable to escape the glee with each new discovery. and moments where you shared too much and it all came crashing down.
you had been such an idiot then. it had just been an innocent question. abattouy never gave you too much, unlike you keeping his sensitive information close. but you'd gleaned enough and ran to cyno at the first opportunity sprouting nativity:
'what can we do to change the sage's view on mechanical life forms? you're the mahamantra they have to listen to you.'
and they did, but not for the reasons you'd hoped.
cyno has cupped your face instead of responding, eyes desperately riveting over your face in search of more questions than he was ready to ask.
'i'll take care of it.'
now people like to say that it was inevitable. abatyouy had been careful but he wasn't perfect. there had been rumors floating around his research. wandering eyes accounting for tools he purchased. it was inevitable that the general mahamantra would be knocking on his door if he didn't cease looking into such things.
but you didn't need to be the one to open it.
when you swung open the door, surprised at the gesture but not turning down the opportunity to see your lover during the day. the jest fell off your lips as the general mahamantra stared pointedly away from you as the decree fell from his lips.
but all you could hear was the clutter of tools falling behind you.
anu said he never blamed you.
it was all inevitable
but you wish you hadn't been part of the plan.
“i've just been too deep in my work, but you were right, i needed this. i should be able to sleep better now thank you.” you express your gratitude by leaning over and pressing your lips to his cheek once, then the corner of his lips were the taste of spices lingered.
cyno didn't reply at first, but seemed to be mulling over it until at last he nodded and offered his arm to help you stand.
“anytime you need me,” he reiterated.
not every time, a voice silked in your ear.
you're close.
its a fact that you can't escape, the truth of it seared into your brain. an inescapable thread of knowledge that puppets you through the remainder of the night and into the early stages of morning.
you're so close.
but you can't take that next step. at least not without killing yourself. tighnari mentioned how vision users were touched with a kind of ley line energy that helped smooth over encounters. it was why the forest rangers were so adamant about withering zone containment and steering away civilians.
the fox had come to you with the problem before, leading to the energy isolation device that helps dray in the excess energy. though you hadn't been able to be apart of the official experiment, based on the data he provided, you were assured that it worked well. better than his own expectations.
it not only absorbed the power, but converted it to use as a neutralizing agent to restore the area to its natural environment. but something like that drew attention, not only from the forest rangers but from animals alike that would flock to less contaminated regions.
you would need something smaller, more attuned to just yourself as a vector to allow you to traverse the region without disturbing the flow. something that would stay on your person, secure like jewelry.
the lull tapping of your pen against the desk paused as the idea came into fruition like the slow unravel of a flower in bloom. a bracelet, you could craft a ring that would send out small pulses similar to the purification device. strong enough to ward off the ley line's aura but contained to just you.
if it worked it would be something you could present to tighnari later. for now it would be a crude trial but with abbatouy's help it could be something that could be reproduced for mainstream use. a promise of safety for anyone, vision bearers and or not.
more evidence to the akademiya that abattouy iscapable of providing for the better good.
the world around your workshop moved on, time eating away the light as you pressed on. you persevered, fighting off the knaws of hunger with stale nuts and the low lull of music to distract from the exhaustion. it was well past dinner time when you finally clipped the device to your wrist.
the fit was tight but not intolerable. comfort was something you could tweak after it proved its worth. your body felt too aged from the day to even encourages your limbs to pull into a much needed stretch.
carefully, you packed up your tools and other assorted needs for your next trip. you were determined but not ignorant. rest would be necessary before you could venture into the wilds again. the last visit had not been kind to your unpracticed stumbling.
the sun is searing, a familiar sensation and at the same time one you can't ignore. it's uncomfortable in a way that won't let you relax. a determining when all you want to do is sleep.
there wasn’t a point where you could recall you last full night’s rest, but yesterday had taken its greatest toll on your body. you were well aware of the risks, even with the pseudo assurance of the device you’d built. this … project was consuming every waking hour and some with little progress to show for it. what you needed was to rest. maybe after your mind could recuperate.
“Is that what you think?”
you startle, whirling around as you take in your surroundings. for a moment the world blurs, gold and tan shifting to warm greens and browns. the scent of wet and pine fills your nostrils, yet the weight of the sun never leaves your skin.
your eyes widen as you take in the figure resting against the tree bark as if he’d never left. like he’d been waiting from the beginning, stands abattouy.
he's just as you remember, robed in akademiya fabrics with googles skewed but set firmly on his face. there was even the smudge of oil smeared against his cheek, a direct link to the inky stain coating his fingertips. it was him.
“abattouy..”
and then he smiles. archons, you missed that.
‘heard you were looking for me. why the long face?”
“aba—you..? how?”
he laughs then, sounding so at ease as he pushes off the tree. in a few strides he's in front of you, hands hot, stronger than the sun as they settle on your shoulders. yet you hardly notice, to swept in the reality that he was here.
“you're so close. i can't wait to show you everything i've accomplished so far. together we can finally do it. show the akademiya that they were wrong.”
your eyes sting as tears bubble to the surface. you want to reach up and wipe them away but find that you can't. abattouy's grin widens as the trails wet your cheeks.
“come find me, okay? we can do this.”
the tears come faster as you blink through them, eyes closing for a moment as you try to center yourself. “abba, i'm so sorry about cyno. i—i shouldn't have said anything. i didn't think he'd—”
abattouy frowns at that.
“don't worry about him. you've done good leaving him out this time. just come to me and i'll take care of it.” his thumbs come to your cheeks, smearing instead of wiping away the evidence. his touch is firm, pressing a thread above comfort as his nails dig in just a little bit. “you've got this. i believe in you.”
despite the instinct bleeding under your skin, urging you to wrestle away, you smile back. "see you soon."
a twisted smile curls on his lips.
"soon."
when you wake, the moon is still high in the sky yet the age of the night leaves a glow against your body. hardly wears on your conscience. for now you feel more awake than you ever had.
you don't know why … but you're invigorated. more determined than ever before. just a little more and you'd be there.
“where are you going?” you startled at the sleepy voice. turning, you found a slightly bloodshot but sleepily curious gaze. the sun was still a few hours away but it was obvious that the mahamantra had not been in bed for long. he must have drifted in somewhere between one fitful slumber to the next.
you began dressing under his speculative gaze, shrugging on a light robe to fight off the night chill. eventually you rounded the bed to his side, a response prepared on your lips,” just to the workshop. i've been laminating over some ideas and finally figured something out.”
no one would ever consider you an early riser but there were past occurrences like this where you'd wake up just to work through a puzzle or idea before it was lost. you expected cyno to let you go with that, accept the brief kiss and roll over. it came as a surprise when a firm arm looped around your waist instead.
the silver haired male dragged you to him, rather than bringing himself to full height. his exhaustion breathed against the sensitive skin under your jaw as he nuzzled into your neck.
“you've been spending a lot of time there.”
hidden from his probing gaze, your brow furrowed at the comment. the past few weeks, cyno himself had hardly been around to note your lack of presence. but that was something you were used to, the same couldn't be said for him.
you fought the urge to fidget, unsure of where the direction of this conversation was going.
“yeah, i just really want to crack this.”
cyno leaned back. you swallowed against the lump in your throat as his hand came to cup your cheek, thumb drawing small circles. “stay. tell me about it. let me help.”
it was obvious that he needed every bit of sleep he could get by looking at him, yet there was a sense of determination and a hint of something else you couldn't shake.
for the first time in a long time, you felt uncomfortable under his adj gaze. you stepped back and cyno released you with little resistance.
“you should get some sleep. we can talk about it later.”
before he could reply you dropped a final kiss to his lips and fled.
the sun kisses the horizon on the early path of ascension as you step into the crisp morning air. the early hour meant few distractions as you quickly tore through your shop, collecting the maps and the newest device before heading out. the merchant's map had added a few additional helpful details that had been previously overlooked
the avidya forest was once the ideal path to avoid the ermeties, who'd overtake the upper routes, but with the withering zones extending either direction was ideal. but corruption meant that ley line presence was near, it was just about calculating the right exposure.
the bracelet that hummed lowly on your wrist worked doubly as a protectant and detection. the low thrum would pick up a rhythm of pulses whenever activity spiked. you used it like a compass to lead you off the main utilitarian roads into the worn lines of the forest floor.
as the overhanging vegetation eats up the direct sunlight, you slowed your pace, taking into account the additional wildlife that might make a home out of it.
this route had once been used by the merchants hauling mechanical parts but had been abandoned when it was suspected to be new grounds for a withering zone. on the last trip, the merchant had reported odd symptoms while lagging through the forest. somewhere towards the heart of the undergrowth they'd been attacked, divesting them of most of their goods. most of the crew was nearing delirium at that point, so the culprit was still at large.
it had to be more machines.
you took a chance and angled left, carefully avoiding fallen branches and brambles. the sound of running water called to you and you navigated the rest of the way to the water's edge. it was a small ravine splitting sparse trees and flora growth. no indication of wildlife to be seen.
you stopped to listen, further ensuring your hypothesis when no answering caws or rumbles echoed through the ravine. a quick check of the bracelet showed that the pulses had slowed to a steady but strong rhythm. you were on the right trail.
every step was properly tracked this time, marking every slope and wildlife sighting. for the majority of the morning that was all you saw as you rounded towards the apex of the map. earlier you stumbled near a prowling patrol, managing to hide among the underbrush until they passed through.
you excursions would only last however long they remained outside of tighnari's knowledge.
the creeping heat had forced you to stop by the stream for a moment, letting the cool water pool in your palms before patting your cheeks to bring down the temperature. your gaze darts down to your wrist, noting the consistent rhythm it had stuck to for the last hour. it was both comforting and damning, narrowly avoiding the dangers so intricately woven with the clues you needed.
eventually you would need to begin tracing your steps. lately cyno had been more attentive and the brief interruption this morning was only more evidence of it. when and if he came looking, you needed to be found in a less compromising position.
with a huff, you rose to your feet and brushed off the bits of gravel. you were shaking the crack from your knee when a rustle of reeds draw your attention. there hadn't been much more than scattering hogs lately, though this close to the water's edge the possibility of spinocrocs wasn't impossible.
with careful muted steps you edge back, eyes trained on the location of the disturbance. you just manage to clear the marshes when you hear it.
the whirring sound power winding as the machine turned on its axis. you bolted, darting towards the trees for protection in preparation for the beam of light. you grunted under the heavy impact of bark as you slammed against the cover, safe but still detected.
what is it doing?
you had expected to feel the heat from the blast but no attack came. perhaps it was recalibrating? as it was, you refused to linger and find out. the weight of the dagger against your thigh felt like fickle reassurance as the clanking of metal parts near.
you rolled through the underbrush, gasping through the sharp knicks of stones biting at your skin. a low whimper escapes you as you thumb at the bone under the bracelet. the device had taken the brunt of the force but the echo of pain still throbbed. the dull thrum of its alerting system was hardly comforting as it aggravated the injury more.
you whirled to face the machine, as it crawled near. it teetered restlessly on its limbs, it's red gaze peering ominously at you.
then it turned, skating forward a few paces before looking back.
what in archon's name was going on?
despite instinct urging you to flee, you found yourself using the moment to catalog the creation. it was nothing like any ruin you'd seen or read about before. its gold and white colored plates flared out in a more defensive arrangement. but most importantly, it looked almost like … a crab.
had his been the mechanical being that had harassed the caravan?
the machine almost looked humbled on its teetering legs, red center glowing brightly. its body jerked in the direction in front of it, as if wanting to urge you along.
it made an odd garble of sounds as if confirming your thoughts.
the direction it panned ahead, was the path you had already come from, a stark difference from the land you still wanted to explore. biting your lip, you look back at the winding ravine down stream. the merchant had said the ruin had only been after mechanical parts, something you'd lacked. yet it had an interest in you, or at least your being.
whatever was down there, it did not want you finding out. peculiarity aside, the memories from your last encounter with its more offensive counterparts had not been kind.
“... alright, lead on then.”
the machine set has determined path along the slopes, guiding you through the forestry without pause.
as the adrenaline wore off, your body felt its toll. you groaned as your vision blurred at the edges and your body swayed in step. the stumble must have alerted the machine who turned on its axis.
“...?”
even without words, the concern was conveyed. with a strained smile, you waved it off, practiced at deflecting. “I'll make it.”
because you would, the hanging sun was already visible at the top of the path. you had just taken on more than you could account for and these were the consequences. but they did not come without gifts??
this machine was … sentient. able to discern friend from foe and devised a plan to reach it's goals.
“thank you”
it made a whirl of noises more exuberant and insistent than before.
a spike of nausea hit you and you nearly doubled over from the wave. there was no telling exactly what …
you'd be back. there had to be something there.
maybe even abattouy.
“....”
the machine made another series of sounds, that felt conclusive. while a shallow theory, you got the jist that it knew.
not to unlike your current predicament as you drug your worn body home. a faded pain of reminder gnawed at your stomach but you doubted you could sit long enough to think, let alone eat.
you breathed a sigh of relief as you managed to key the lock open on the first try, ready to fall face first into the bed, when you felt the weight of another gaze. the attention prickled against your skin but not with fear. at least not for your life as you humbled under cyno's gaze.
you push off from the closed door and walk further into the room, getting space between the two of you. your positioning is defensive, there is no denying the reclusiveness.
cyno appears… calm as he watches but you can tell he's thinking beyond whatever he prepared for your arrival.
“haldr asked when you would be open again. apparently you took on a bigger project. you never mentioned it before.”
you bite back a hiss as you shoulder off your belonging on to the table, “its nothing.”
cyno, surprising doesn't scoff despite the disbelief oozing from his voice. “its … nothing? but its enough to occupy a lot of your time.”
you avoid his gaze.
“will you at least talk to me?”
a dull thud begins knocking at your forehead. you cant do this. not now. “talk about what?”
the inhale he takes is audible, barely retaining his patience. “with whatever has you … tense. this isn't like your normal frustration.”
“and what does normal frustration look like exactly? i'm sure you're plenty familiar with it, right. surely the great mahatra is trained in noticing signs of stress to weedle out all the bad little scholars.”
cyno took a deliberate step forward and you echoed with another back. for a pregnant pause, you both stood silent at an impasse. you could see the road before you and where it led. this wasn't foreign ground between the two of you, just a road dusted over. “is this about your new research? what are you—”
you snap. “is this what this is … an investigation? is that how you cornered abattouy?”
you both froze at the name. the astronomical weight it carried telling so much yet not at all. the breath leaving your lips is more exaggerated now, pushing your chest out with each breath. it might just be the lightning but for a moment you swear there are beginning something darker than anger gathering in his eyes.
cyno eventually forced himself to speak. when he did, his voice was quiet but stoic. the headdress was missing but you were edging closer to the mahatra with every word. “abattouy was researching banned material. you know this.”
it had been a children's joke to think that where they'd left the argument last was the end. with all its abrupt and jagged edges, it was a wonder it made it this long without getting caught between them.
“but you knew he wasn't doing any harm. he just wanted to help people cyno.”
it hadn't just been a chase for academic achievement. abattouy wanted to prove that the forgotten warriors were more than just gears and parts. that their purpose reached more than time limited them to. the akademiya was not always right. it was not perfect and you were tired of shadowing the flaws.
“he was my friend,” you crack, moisture prickling at your eyes with emotions you couldn't begin to name. it was all overwhelming. the research, the secrets all boiling over to … this.
through blurred eyes you watch as cyno approaches carefully. not another word is said as he draws you in, arms tight around your quivering figure as he mutters soothing noises. for a moment you settle into the gentle rocking as he coaxes you down from your high.
it might take some convincing but maybe you could finally sway him. prove that not everything from the sages should be accepted without question. if tighnari could see the walls crumbling, then surely—
“there are rules you can't ignore.”
his words make your mind go blank—makes you want to scream, wait and give up within seconds of each other. ultimately, your body decides for you, shoulder rolling, you knock yourself free of his hold. you furiously wiped at your nose with the back of your hand.
“I wish the same could be said about the truth.”
you step around him, grabbing your shoulder bag and ripping the front door open. daylight was fading quickly but you would make it to your destination before nightfall.
the tears tracks on your face had managed to dry over the course of the trip. your lips still felt a little puffy from the moisture, but for the most part you were dried up and presentable. stars were just beginning to sprinkle against the sky as you hoisted yourself up the steps of gandarvale village. you hoped the lamps didn't bring too much attention to your face.
fortunately those you ran into were sparse as you near the top, almost concerningly so until you found the majority of the rangers gathered at the apex. you appeared to have stumbled upon the closing statement of a meeting, a rather informative sort as tighnari drew attention to a few diagrams at the center of the group.
the content of his words didn't stick, but the informative drawl that was so intricately tighnari eased the tension wholed up in your shoulders. you couldn't see collei from here but you hoped to avoid the girl for a bit until you were ready. she was a bit too perceptive for your nerves right now.
there were waves of applause, rather muted out of respect for the speaker as the group cleared. the crowd broke up neatly, not a single head of green in sight as the path to the front became free.
ashpazi was one of the few who lingered, drawing tighnari into a shallow discussion as the chief officer gathered his supplies. they both looked up at your arrival, the chef nodded politely and taking his leave.
lightly tsking, you waggled your fingers at the departing figure before you turned your full attention to the bemused fox.
“dissemination of information for public consumption, nari? you should have told me you were such a bad boy.”
tighnari appeared to lose more interest with each jest that left your lips, completely turning his back as he organized the pamphlets and materials. “what are you going to do, tell cyno?” he seems to find a private laugh at the thought, rarely finding reason to imagine his former institution bringing him to 'justice'. “please, i'd like to see them try to prosecute me.”
when he turned back around, he found your features frozen in a state of … shock? what had he said that'd been so surprising? surely you didn't think that he actually feared being investigated. the akademiya couldn't afford to lose his medical research. besides the bimarestan wouldn't be able to function at that kind of capacity without his intervention.
part of him worried he might have hit a deeper nerve. why were you here again?
your wide eyed awe, left little to ground his suspicions on. that was more cyno's gift.
and yet.
“wow, tighari. i can see why you're so inspirational here.”
tighnari rolled his eyes, frankly exhausted with the day as it was. while he never turned down a visit from you, you'd picked a hell of a time to show up. in fact, it was odd enough to see you come unprompted at this hour. his gaze narrowed as it picked you over with more scrutiny, not missing how your mask crackled further revealing the stress lines you'd tried to shadow with humour.
the fox laid back down his materials, uncaring for the ones that rolled off the table. “hey … are you sleeping okay?” it was fading, but there was a hint of redness in your gaze. he hadn't followed up on your odd curiosity in the ruins since he'd taken you nearly a fortnight ago. it had seemed like such a passing whim then, but perhaps there was more. “cyno not been home?”
you don't really want to answer the question but you know he'll pry. "we...actually had a fight."
tighnari made a soft sound, brow pinched at the thought. that would have been his third guess but he had hoped not to get that far. “about … abattouy or your research on the ancient machines?”
you weren't shocked by assumptions. tighnari was smart enough to piece together your intentions even if he wasn't completely sure of how far you'd taken it. in truth, both guesses existed within each other.
“mostly slaughtered. but he's starting to notice other things.”
“well i think i'd be mad at him if he acknowledged anything less.” tighnari never forgot his initial irritation with cyno's attentiveness the first time they'd crossed paths. he had recently branched off from the akademiya, in good faith. however those still seemed to insist on dragging his name through the forest, figuratively speaking. cyno had crept around on mere rumours, still fresh in his role as part of the matra.
tighnari, of course, had nothing to hide, only showing his true colors until the man was satisfied with what he found, you included.
their friendship had managed to stick despite their differing associations with the akademiya. tighnari was comfortable playing outside the rules while still understanding the game, whereas cyno was still carrying the manual. you, unfortunately staggered between them.
tighari pressed his palm against his forehead, a precursor to the throbbing that was sure to come as this situation reared its true head. “i forget how easy it is for me to pretend the akademia isn't such a big deal.”
“yeah we're not all geniuses like you who can just leave.”
tighnari shrugs casually, eyes glittering. “you could.”
the offer was always there. a hanging thread for you to think about whenever you passed under it. it was hard not to consider the freedom. but ultimately, it had never been worth giving up the access to knowledge. at least not yet. you weren't tighnari. able, yes, but not worth enough for scholars to come knocking at your door or asking for pictures.
tighnari draws your attention with a click of his tongue,”i hope you packed for the night. there is no chance of me sending you back.” it was glaringly obvious that was not the case, but you hadn't really thought past escaping in that moment. but a forest ranger was always equipped for any situation.
“thank you. kind of figured you'd try to get rid of me after a while. i know i push your buttons too.”
tighnari smiles, softened with a bitter taste of pity. fortunately the warmth of his embrace makes up for it.,” i could never get rid of you.”
by the time collei stumbles upon you, she's weighed down with extra blankets and a change of clothes. the mood is pleasantly lifted by her excitement towards the impromptu sleepover. though tighnari manages to overshadow it with his insistence for you both to not stay up too late.
in his wake, he leaves a pot of tea.
if you could dream, it would be of forests and fungi.
eventually you left the village after caving to tighnari's threat of breakfast. collei had been more fond than distributed by the abrupt sleepover, and you found yourself feeling the same. falling asleep in the forest had done more wonders for you than expected. your mind felt clearer and better able to process the thoughts rooting around.
enough so that you followed the urge leading you to the library at the heart of the akademiya. it had been awhile since you set foot into the archives, not needing it much since discovering abattouy's notes.
but the meeting with the crab ruin had made you realize there was one correlation you had yet to resolve.
zandik.
the name had to have some meaning to abattouy for him to hide away those research notes like that. in place of what the akasha couldn't provide, you would have to inquire around it. your access to the upper regions should still be intact, or at least alhaitman hasn't made any notice of otherwise.
perhaps a clue of something would be noted.
it really had been awhile since you'd stepped into sumeru city. you'd rarely needed to venture here past the need to report to your superiors. you'd forgotten how stiff it felt.
a familiar weight of eyes fell on your shoulders, such as the attention you garnered as the significant other of the mahamantra. there was a reason why your friends were either found in the forest or the ports.
“but … this feels different,” you couldn't help but mutter to yourself.
you were used to the occasional averted eyes and hesitant greetings. but today they seemed to have added hushed whispers to the mix. frankly, you would have harbored a complex had you not noticed an errant hand pointing you out. the gesture was quickly reeled back as the student realized you had noticed, face flush with embarrassment as they skittered away.
it was odd.
it had been less than twenty four hours since you last saw cyno, but you doubted even he could garner this kind of reaction.
given that no one outright approached, you pressed on. the conversations floated around you like static, pinching more than just your nerves as you fought to ignore it. you knew scholars could be rude at times but this was just ridiculous.
the sight of the grand doors at the entrance of the library came as a relief. at the very least out of respect the whispering wouldn't be heard.
readjusting the pack over your shoulder, you quickened your pace down the short staircase into the house of daena. you are relieved to at least see the familiar face of yusef seated behind the information desk.
“yusef, how are you today? is there something in the air or is it just me?”
the man in question jolted at the sound of your voice. you watched perplexed as he struggled to meet your gaze. a sound of .. something made it past his lips, but he avoided interacting past that.
now you were concerned.
though sparse, the eyes inside the open room still managed to find you. head ducked down, you skirted towards the center elevator, ready to find peace in the seclusion. you were not looking forward to this discussion with cyno, above all else the two of you still needed to address.
stepping onto the platform, your foot tapped restlessly as you awaited for the mechanism to recognize your access.
except this time, nothing happened.
frowning, you tapped against the device at your ear, even though the dread eating at your stomach alluded to what would not occur.
if anything, you felt even more on display as you stood uselessly, outright denied the access you had expected.
more than anything, you were ready to escape back to the comforts of the port. just as you began to step off the platform, a new set of eyes fell on your back.
it was the voice that spoke your name that had you turning before your brain could pick up on the warning present in the tone and surrounding situation.
“cyno?”
you realize a step late that this is not your lover but the general of the mahamantra.
a mix of feelings put your insides in turmoil as you were led from the library by the head of the matra. the only falling grace was that no one spoke in the presence of cyno, not daring to draw his attention. in fact, they scattered like beetles the moment he came into view.
cyno also refrained from speaking as he led the way to the administrative branch of the akademiya. towards a set of rooms you hadn't seen in years. and most certainly under different circumstances.
“i didn't even know you used this office anymore, “ you joked. naturally, it should have been a given that he was expected to conduct investigations which would surely lead to a multitude of files to keep track of. the man was always on the move, but everyone had a place to store their thoughts.
he'd just never invited you before. though now you were realizing that it was a good thing.
cyno didn't seem to find any interest in your idle chatter, purposely stepping around your figure. the empty air between your bodies as he passed felt stifling in comparison to the affectionate taps he would often humor you with for the sake of contact.
it was a clear cut indicator that you were no longer dealing with just cyno but the general mahamantra.
the man himself considers you with a steely gaze as he flips through a collection of notes on his desk. the fact that he chose to lean against the integrity rather than settling in the seat behind it gave you mixed feelings. almost as if he was punishing himself in order to share your discomfort.
it was everything you regretted when you would sit in your workshop lamenting over your decisions to seek out zandik's research. no amount of personal discovery could amount to the utter blanket of disappointment hanging over the room.
since the mahamantra set the stage, you angled to meet him halfway. you wouldn't be generous with information like you would cyno. emotions were not welcome here, nor would any past affiliations. all that matters was the information at his fingertips and how much of it would be held accountable to you.
when it became apparent that the dynamic had changed and you wouldn't be speaking first, the man stepped headfirst into his role.
“sources have implied that you have been digging into classified archives of information.”
the mahamtra didn't ask it as a question so you didn't answer. he didn't look at you either as he selected one of the sheets, his gaze dragging slowly over the information you were sure he'd already committed to memory before summoning you here.
“you were originally permitted to access, however, concerns began to rise when you were found attempting to further acquire restricted files on zandik.”
the mahamantra casually dropped the paper back on his desk, leaving it to flutter precariously to the edge. “any information on zandik is inherently flagged due to its nature leading to the expulsion of the said student. the prominent addition of redacted tags scattered through the documents should have been reason enough to advise caution.”
still no questions, replayed in your mind like a mantra. no questions meant there was nothing for you to answer to. these were all facts, yes, but no accusations were made. while a thin and very translucent shield, you were protected by the very truth that you had not acted on any of that information. read as you may, while restricted, there were no experimentations to flag you on.
the fact alone that you only had the mahamantra to face and not the slew of corps?? dragging you from your home was testament enough to that. they had suspicions and while that was enough to trigger concern, it wasn't tangible to the point of retribution.
you knew this and so did the mahamantra. this wasn't his typical game of cat and mouse—prey versus predator—because despite the academics of your standings, you would never see each other on anything but equal footing.
it was evident in the way his gaze was pointedly staring at you now, jaw tense. the choreographed calm was hardly semantic: cyno was pissed.
unfortunately it was a sore victory to see him crack first.
“what were you thinking?” he hoisted, barely managing to keep his temper and volume separate.
you internally winced at the question, hating the vagueness it offered. there would never be a right answer, no magic response to whisk you out of this situation. you were wrong, even more so when you considered exactly what you planned to do with that research if given the time.
the fact that they were advancing on involvement alone meant that the sages knew what you were capable of, given your inclination towards machines. at best they hoped you were just overly curious, but they wouldn't be able to ignore the ability you had to bring a sense of nightmare to the city that you didn't dream.
“i was curious …” you started, carefully constructing your words with each thought. ``he just disappeared cyno and no one seems to care. there have been no sightings of him anywhere. not even aaru village. i thought that maybe if i just followed his trail.”
it was instantaneous but inevitable that your emotions would bleed through the speech. this wasn't just a project anymore, it was your goal. and if you had even the smallest opportunity to guarantee cyno's understanding then you would seize it.
carefully, you chance the first step in his direction. while the sages was left to gamble on evidence, cyno knew for a fact what you would do if given the mile. which made your relationship all the more precarious because in his position he shouldn't be looking at this situation from more than one perspective. it had always just been students and researchers alike against the strict rulings. no leeway or forgiveness.
it was never about a person. it wasn't supposed to be you.
“cyno,” you said calmly,” he was my friend. i wont just forget about him”
“tell me its just about abattouy.”
you started at the request,” what?”
“tell me you just found your friend. make me believe that you're not attempting something well over your head. because if it's what they suspect .. if they find anything even the slightest that aligns with their judgment then—” his voice was so low you could feel it reverberating under your skin. but worse was his eyes. gone was the stoic and stout unforgiveness of the mahatra and bestowed upon you was the pleading gaze of a man who wanted the promise that you'd be able to wake up beside him again.
“cyno, i—”
the man took the additional steps needed to place him at your feet. his hands came up to cup your cheeks as his forehead tapped against your own, holding you there.
“tell me, so i can convince them that you're not at fault.”
he was pleading with you. voice desperate for a truth that would fit a better narrative.
or a lie that would make it all go away.
cyno tensed as your hands closed over his.
“my purpose for researching zandik was under the assumption that i could unlock more of abattouy's research in an attempt to discover his location.”
you briefly staggered under the unexpected weight as cyno sagged into your body. there wasn't anything else to be said, because he didn't want to hear more.
this was a truth that you could both lean on.
at least until the other side of the coin flipped
your first instinct is to return to the workshop, which is a dangerous gamble but not every project should face the consequences of your actions. cyno had given you a warning, something not many scholars can hope for.
the streets are bare as you race through them, no doubt filing into their homes as the matra came through. they knew what to expect. it hadn't been the first time.
and this was no different. you could see the similarities the moment you approached the door that swung ominously on loose hinges. without cyno to give them access, the matra had likely just kicked it in.
it wasn't a promising omen for what awaited you inside.
it was as if a tornado had blasted through the already limited space. every cupboard was open, various projects were upturned and each and every book and collection of notes were strewn on the floor in a mountain of paperback and tattooed pages.
nothing had changed.
not a damn thing.
scoping the area, your eyes fell on the familiar design of the coffee machine you had been promising to finish for haldr for ages. you'd become so obsessed with your progress, you haven't even touched it since making the promise. it was now a shell of what it should be.
you carefully picked it up, titling it side to side. once was a coincidence, but you doubted anyone would trust a workshop that had been raided twice.
with a heavy exhale that never seemed to end, you straightened out the overturned table and set the device on top. no part of you was ready to return home, regardless if cyno would be back or not.
instead, you tied up your hair and fell into the seat with an exhale that never seemed to end. you managed to find your tools somewhere in the mess. and so you went to work, ignoring the aftermath of your consequences as it lay in shambles around you.
“you know, this place might hold the record for most raid's in a single location.”
you looked up to find alhaitham standing in the doorway. not even the effort to be annoyed with him was found.
you don't know how long you'd sat there. you'd long given up on the original design and begun reconstructing the coffee marker from scratch. there was no humor in your voice as you went along with the jest, “not the scholar's den?”
the establishment was a unique mix of a tavern and library, housed in the lower parts of the port. it was a popular meeting spot for scholars and traders alike in the pursuit of knowledge. it was conveniently also a fruitful breeding ground for scandals and violations.
alhaitman seemed to consider it. “Yeah, okay. that's a tough spot to beat.”
the hum you let out of noncommittal, joke dead between your lips. picking up the screwdriver again, you refocused on the task at hand. it was evident to both parties how your hands trembled but neither commented.
in truth, it could have been worse. so much worse. the fact that you'd even been allowed to walk freely was a testament to it all.
“i realize you probably don't want to talk but .. i do have some questions.”
he was right and you tried to ignore him. putting your head down, you attempted to reseal one of the parts but your shaky hand dropped the tool. exasperated but determined, you picked it up again and attempted to seal the piece but the limb was stable enough to tighten the screw in place. the small metal piece dropped, rolling away and you cursed under your breath.
“i need to know what else you've uncovered about zandik.”
the name registered with suspicion, unable to ignore you turned around slowly on your tool. his eyes searched your face for a moment, before his arms unraveled from in front of his chest, revealing a familiar tattooed book.
you couldn't hide the recognition from your face as your hand darted out to snatch it back.
alhaitman dodged the attempt, lip turning in disapproval at your scowl. “be lucky i was the one to find it and not them. had it been the other way around, you would not have been nearly as lucky. not even cyno could have gotten you out of it.”
he was right.
with a sigh, you turned back around though your hands couldn't bring themselves to resume the task. while you doubted alhaithtam had done it with your consideration in mind, it certainly had done you a favor that wouldn't be easy to repay.
you could hear him walk around behind. he tapped his knuckles on the table, then pulled up a turned over crate to sit on. he sat a good foot lower, giving you ample view as he flipped comfortably through the pages.
“not to belittle your plight, but this is a bit important,” he said after a moment. “an expelled scholar has been reported within the city. though the chances of correlation are slim … i'd like to cover all my bases in regard to banned research.”
with a sigh, you reached out for the book. alhaitham's eyes narrowed as your fingers wiggled in his face before he relented. with practiced ease, you flipped towards the back of the book where your nail slipped under the seam and rid the letter from its hiding place. you handed it over without a fight.
“this was all i have on it. abattouy has some scattered notes about ley lines throughout but this was the only conclusive material i had going. it's not much.”
alhaitham kept your gaze for a minute before he took the letter. waiting, you crossed your arm on the table and rested your chin as he read it over.
“its impressive how close you both came to such sensitive material, right under the akedemiya’s noses,” he said, getting up and smoothing over his clothes. “granted, you both got caught in the end.” when you didn't reply, he sighed. maybe it was just your exhaustion playing tricks on you, but he almost sounded guilty. “as far as i'm aware, what cyno knows is the summation of what was reported to the sages. aside from the mentions of mechanical life, the ley line research is more aligned with the spantamad. it was your saving grace, but also your last chance.”
alhaitam tapped the notebook against the crown of your head, “you should get home and get some rest. you look like shit.”
finding normalcy did not come easy. cyno did not bring up anything more about the investigation and you left out your impromptu meeting with alhaitham. more annoyingly, the gossip mill churned heavily around you.
the lover of the general mahamantra under investigation, brought up more concern about his character than yours. though the details of the inspection were not up for public release, speculation still ran rampant.
for due to your relationship alone, it was assumed that whatever punishment served was reduced in half. it was one reason why you avoided the workshop for the last few days. you'd done your best to ignore the sneers and backhanded comments while finally finishing the repairs on haldr's new coffee machine.
the man hadn't even blinked at your excuses, gratefully pushing the coin pouch into your hands as he held up the device. at least there was one spot you were welcome without judgement.
the silence your home awarded you, was the winning decision. though you did your best to hide the jitters, you were beginning to drop one too many cups and plates to be normal. cyno had first watched from a distance, respecting your boundaries. but after the fourth plate shattered before dinner, he was nearing his wits end.
without asking, he took on the menial task of serving both tea and food and cleaning up behind. you couldn't bring yourself to be vocal with your complaints, too relieved.
your silence is two parts, spiteful and reserved. to be honest, you still weren't sure how to approach the conversation. the other part of you wasn't ready to suffer through it. when it was quiet, it was easier to stomach the dull thud still present.
working through it at the workshop had been hell, with frequent bouts of nausea. without the distraction of your research, it was difficult to stomach how you'd lasted this long.
eventually, you gave up, secluding yourself in the bedroom.
you spent the remaining hours of daylight holed up in bed with just your thoughts and the muted sounds of cyno moving around the house. he was typically a quiet man on his own, but you could tell he kept a one-sided conversation for your benefit as he humored ali.
they were nonsensical words about everything and nothing. just an open invitation that when you were ready he was willing to talk. but the offer went unanswered.
when cyno finally cracked open the bedroom door, your stance hadn't changed. he'd come in carrying a light snack and a slip of something, likely medication, to help it go down. rather than leave it at that, he thing to sink into the bed by your hip. you refused to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze level with his knee.
“i invited tighnari and collie over,” he explained in a gentle tone after the silence stretched too far for two people.
when you didn't offer anything, he continued on.
“collei said she'd bring dinner. Figured you might want me out of the kitchen for a bit, give you something fresh. but don't tell her i spilled the beans.”
he wasn't expecting your laughter, but he'd hoped for a twist of your nose or even you turning his back to him. he'd accept any kind of response over this alternative.
you hated the way he said your name, the shadow of his hand spilling over your cheek. there was a note of something different. helplessness was the only way you could describe it. you didn't know what else it could be, but it didn't follow the man who was in control of a small militia.
it made you feel even more ill. your forced eyes more tears out and you didn't bother to contain them. they dribbled down your face, sideways, onto the pillow.
it was definitely helplessness, you decided. almost feeling cruel in your theory as the man above you struggled to formulate a any kind of affection and understanding that you would accept.
when it became clear that seclusion was the best gift he could offer, he reluctantly slide off the bed with a wearied exhale. something else escapes his lips at the same time, but you've already closed yourself off, willing your body to sleep.
at least in the darkness of your slumbers, you could finally be alone.
you blink awake to the smell of food in the air. you only have a brief thought to the acceptance that cyno is home before additional voices filtered through.
tighnari and collei.
bettedly, you fall back against the sheets wishing you hadn't woken up at all. tighnari was one thing to face. though you weren't sure if you could had not the dichotomy between his disappointment and collei's concern.
a weak groan leaves you as you sit up, head swimming in a way that is markedly worse than what you went to bed with. the urge suddenly hits you and you stumble out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before throwing up the remnants of your stomach contents.
you don't notice the lull in conversation at first, but the knock on the bathroom door is warning enough. your throat burns as you cough, attempting to rid your mouth of spit before you speak.
“don't worry, its me. cyno said you had not been feeling yourself so i brought tea.”
“I already have some on the kettle. why don't you get washed up and get back in bed. unless you need some help?”
a few convulsions wrack your body, but you managed to convince him weakly that you'll make it. his shadow hesitates at the door before he rescinds, likely to ease collei's concern.
disgust claws up your throat as you force yourself to stand, avoiding the mirror as you fold over the sink. you force mouthfuls of water past your lips until the bitter taste is gone.
you ignore the way the house quiets again as you exit the bathroom, comforted solely by the way they can't see you stumbling back into the room without effort. the sheets are thankfully cool from your absence and you can't bring yourself to pull them around you just let.
just as your eyes are beginning to droop, tighnari enters after a brief knock.
the tea claps gently as he sets his against the nightside table.
“cyno told me you were under a bit of stress so this should help.”
you thoughts stray to the possibilities of what else they might have discussed though they don't reach far before the thundering returns. with a wince you force your face into the sheets, wondering how long it would take to smother it all away.
tighnari sighs, a weighted sound that sinks into your bones,”i feel partially to blame for taking you to the ruin sight. i thought it might help whatever you were fixed on but if i'd known..”
your heart aches at the blame that settled over him but you can't brink your lips to move.
tears wet the pillow as a soft hand smooths through your hair.
“I'm leaving some medicine as well. but at least try to down the tea. it should help.”
there is a pause, indicating that he wants to say more—so much more, but he relents.
“we’ll talk more when you're feeling better.”
"it's a shame it all had to end like this. so close to the truth.”
you twist in the darkness, illness forgotten as you struggle to locate the source. its not one you recognize, yet it feels so familiar. so intimately aware of you.
the voice returns as a tsk behind. “your body was just too weak for the truth. it's a wonder that you survived this long. it was no wonder that he had withheld so much from you.”
abattouy. you knew it—whatever it was, meant abattouy.
cold hands curl around your shoulders, drawing you back into the abyss. when you inhale, you smell brimstone and ashes. the chest at your back rumbes as it laughs. “he was better off without you.”
that was the last straw. you whirl around, seeing red despite visbal scene around you. “I would have found him. i would have searched the ends of tevyat for him.”
suddenly a figure fills the space, looming over you with a cruel curl to his lips. for some reason you couldn't meet his eyes, not to say there weren't there but masked yet there were no defining features. it didn't matter. the smirk on his lips spoke volumes of the wrongness surrounding his identity. it steps forward and places a finger under your chin until your eyes meet the space where it should be.
“then find him. you're the only one who can after all.”
“i can't,” you whisper as you try to pull yourself away but your body refuses to comply. the darkness clings to your skin as you struggle, chaining you to the spot. it was already over, there was nothing left for you to chase.
the laughter that bellows from its lips is loud. everywhere and overwhelming.
“but if you don't, who will?”
when you come to the next morning, the space beside you is cold but not entirely absent. a folded sheet of paper was left for you to find. the content's of cyno's familiar scrawl lay forgotten as you push yourself to your feet and stumble into yesterday's clothes.
your legs feel weak and unsteady but you manage to exit the room without falling into anything. by the time you reached the main living area, the first prickles of exhaustion sunk back into your bones. your breaths cam out short and forced. as it was, it was difficult to keep the nausea at bay while moving or standing still so you pressed on.
the feeling of ali brushing against your calves hardly registers as your focus narrowed in on the doors that led outside.
you were surely a sight to the few early morning faces that fluttered about starting their day. their words were muddy, articulatory lost to the sound of crashing waves against your skull. it hardly mattered, they couldn't help. no one could help. it had to be you.
'you're the only one who can find him after all.'
the sounds of the waking port soaked into the earth of the broad plains until the path became encroached by the thick vegetation of the forests. the vines slithered around your feet, sinking you further into the earth with each step deeper until it had risen to your ankles.
everything still hurts.
however, the suffering was far outweighed by that of abattouy.
'if you don't, who will?'
how long had it been now since anyone had gone looking for him. had he given up as well?
you hated it. all of it. not just abattouy's disappearance, or cyno's intervention or tighnari's disappointment, but the way none of it seemed to end. day by day you pressed through the doubts, pushed your body through the trials and still came out prize free. it only hurt more and it was becoming a miserable push through the dark waters just to keep your head high.
'it's a shame it all had to end like this. so close to the truth.'
your knees buckle from the unnatural pressure, world hazy as you try to blink through the oncoming headache. you should have never returned, you weren't built to withstand this. and if you could barely last a few hours, the chances of abu—
“the price of knowledge is an unimaginable gamble, though when the cards are played right the fruit can be beyond your wildest dreams.
the world tilts as a figure comes into view, defenseless as it nears.
“yet for strong minds, it's not enough to just hold the fruit. you must consume it to feed the hunger for more.”
your gaze darts around, unable to focus on anything; too many unfamiliar features to grasp. from the fur lined coat of season in the humid, hot heat to the strange beak-like mask shrouding part of the face from view.
a surge of fear triggers your heartbeat, the harsh thud knocking against your chest as the stranger leers closer. whatever they had in store for you wasn't something you could counter as floating spots appearing in your dimming vision. your limbs feel beyond reach as you blink through the salty sting of tears.
as the hand reaches towards, your eyes shut and you hope that there is nothing left of you to find. perhaps it would be easier for cyno to move on without the memory after your final breath.
"traveller, look! paimon sees someone!”
another strange voice, one from above.
the touch you expect never comes as a hum of consideration rumbles,”a good scientist knows when to accept a failed experiment.”
“I know them. hold on, we're on the way!”
that's … tighnari!
you try to warn him, but blackness claims you instead.
calloused, gentle hands carry you steadily but quickly.
another voice—familiar yet audibly concerned with a touch of hysteria.
“what happened?”
“oh good you’re here, take them.”
tighnari doesn’t wait for a response, and your body shifts from one set of hands to the next.
“i should … i need to investigate this.”
“you need to be here. the general mahamantra can wait.”
above you cyno sighs.
“... there is something else. but i can address that later.”
—darkness returns, but this time you welcome it.
the process of regaining consciousness comes in stages.
it starts with a splitting headache and the taste of something bitter. you want to drag yourself to the horizon of awareness, but the task feels foggy and slow. every fiber of your body feels too heavy to respond to the simplest command.
the easiest thing to do is to sleep. so you fall back under.
from there on you fade in and out, conversations drifting above your lack of wakefulness.
“it was lucky we found them, the level of exposure was at a dangerous level. they … had this device on their wrist but i think they were too affected for it to have effect” the clink of something clutters against the table. “i should have recognized the symptoms earlier but i would have never guessed they were in a contaminated region.”
“what were they doing there?”
“i … imagine it's something to do with abattouy.”
cyno hoists.
“we fought a small group of mechanical machines before finding them. but what's important was the vasanti grass we recently acquired. its still fresh and will do the job.'”
you couldn't make out cyno's reply, voice too low.
“we have a camp set up, i'll return to the traveler to scope out the cause. “
there was a shuffle of belongings, likely tighnari gathering a few extra supplies before his departure. somewhere beside you cyno lets out a grunt.
“no, you should stay here. their case … is a little more severe than yara's. collei can manage the medication, but i would feel better if they're watched over. “
then there is stillness.
followed by coolenes—a gentle cold that settles against your cheek.
“it will be alright, they're resilient.”
when you wake up again, the haze is going and it takes considerably less effort to open your eyes. you rouse to the press of palm to your forehead that's more comforting than inquisitive. you recall feeling hot at one point but couldn't recall if anyone had mentioned a fever.
the touch responds to the soft noise you make as your head twists to take in your surroundings. despite your distorted awareness, it had been safe to assume that you'd been brought to the first rangers headquarters. within tighnari's custody, there was no chance of you nearing the bimarstan.
the same hand smooths over the crown of your head and you open your eyes to see the blurry shape of cyno settled bedside. there is a mixture of relief and frustration in his eyes as you blink to clear your sight, an expected look that will soon be accompanied by an overdue talk.
his lips part but no sound comes out at first. he considers his word before letting them go. “they figured you'd wake soon. last night was your first fitful-free sleep.”
you make one attempt to sit upright before giving up altogether when your elbows can't support the weight.
a firm hand comes behind your back, urging you up a smidge to righten the pillow under you. it's not much but it gives you illusion sitting up for the first time in days.
“you'll need food to help get your strength back. all you've been able to handle until today was your medicine.”
a cough escapes you and you wince as you realize how dry your throat feels. “i— where is tighnari?”
cyno's brow furrows, as he offers you a cup of water. "he'll be handling this investigation." there is no doubt that he's not pleased by that fact. quite a few of your actions are sure to have earned his ire.
you take a slow sip of water, both out of consideration for your stomach and the direction of this conversation. it was time the two of you stopped patching up the issue with bandages only to rip it back open the moment it started to heal.
it was maddening because no part of you enjoyed arguing with the man, you just wanted to be heard.
but in doing so, perhaps it was time for you to listen as well.
the cup was nearly empty but you held onto it, needing a plausible distraction as you fumbled with your words.
where do you even begin? an apology seemed like the easy way out, but what did that leave to address?
“am i going to be expelled?”
that was a valid concern.
cyno sighed heavily and took the cup anyway. his clothing was wrinkled and there was noticeable bags under his eyes. “the prior probation still stands, this last incident was not reported due to the inconclusive nature.”
you were certain the inconclusiveness had a name and rather large ears. it was a shallow victory, you were still in for a second talk whenever tighnari returned. part of you hoped it would just be a colding. your memories were still a hazy muddled mess with little recollection value.
cyno always looked so much younger without his headdress, though his voice remained aged as he spoke.
“we both could have handled this situation better. i did…look for him.”
cyno's chin dropped to his chest. “there are few people who could evade me, but i figured he was just … gone. there was no word of him in aaru village. there had been a few reports of a scholar seeking supplies but by the time i reached the trail it was cold.”
the admission comes as a surprise to you. for the longest, cyno had been so reserved about abattouy, refraining from going into too much detail about his reports or sentencing. but it had never been out of spite.
“there was nothing to be found, and i didnt want you chasing a ghost.” his voice cracked and he looked at you, stark misery on his face. it wasn't just that, he looked exhausted and it pricked your own guilt. ''i thought time would work it out or at least bring some conclusion but that was my fault.”
you reached out for his hands, rubbing the backs as your emotions melted into acceptance.
“the last time i came to you … it resulted in aba's expulsion.”
“abattouy was well under investigation before you came to me. it was only then that i realized we held off too long.”
held off too long? cyno never prolonged an investigation... which mean that he— you choke back a sob.
“his studies allied with the spantamad for a while. through observation of the ley lines, inquiring about the machines wasn't completely restricted. it was enough to keep him on the watch list. but when you…”cyno finds comfort in intertwining your hands. “when you came to me with so much hope. it wasn't just about studying, he had intentions we couldn't ignore. i couldn't let him take you—.”
he was protecting you. in order to keep you safe, he had to agree on aba. had it been inevitable? likely, but if he'd held out any longer, how involved would you have gotten?
cyno pressed his lips to your joined hands, “i couldn't protect you both.”
no, it wasn't his fault. he shouldn't harbor the blame for the actions of others.
“I shouldn't have made your job harder. i was so convinced that he was out there and he needed help.''
for the first time since it all happened, you found it easier to devest information. ''i found his notebook. he must have hidden it as a spare. i thought if i could just find him, he'd come back?” cyno was right, you'd been so hopeful and naive and look where it got you. “I don't know. i didn't work out the finer details.”
“we both need to work on communication.” he tries to smile, a broken thing but with time maybe you could heal that too.
“i realize my job isn't ideal when it comes to confessing but as long as you're safe, you can talk to me about anything.” he opened his mouth to speak but stopped. “even … not just …” he looks at you again but his face is different now—softer. “I trust you. i think we can work towards an agreeable medium between our jobs.”
you extract one of your hands from his grip and place it against his check, letting the thumb run over the skin.”at the very least the sages were right to facilitate information on the ley lines. it's pretty dangerous. i'm starting to feel like a rebellious child, maybe they aren't so bad.”
cynos arms come around you as he pulls you close, hiding his face in your shoulder. his hand caresses the top of your head and you shuffle against him until your face is buried against his throat. it gives you the facade that you can hide away from the world, if only for a little bit.
“no, you were right,”
you lips mouth against the ornament of his uniform taken back by the sudden change in his stance. “cyno?”
he squeezes you once, before guiding you back down to rest. his mouth brushes against your forehead,” it's nothing for you to worry about. rest.”
it takes a few days for you to feel confident enough to sit upright in bed without assistance. your insides feel properly rooted in their respective crevices for the first time since you woke up in the avidiya forest.
they still have you on broths and clear soups. by now your stomach has settled enough to handle something richer but you believe the menu is part of tighnari's punishment.
cyno comes in and out, more lately. outside of the city, your akasha is as useless as a piece of jewellery. though you're still not convinced you have full privileges yet. cyno instead sustains you with light reading from your own personal library, satisfying your boredom with fantasy novels.
you're just flipping to the next chapter, voiced aged after reading the last few aloud when tighnari appears.
he gives you a brief once over, before his gaze darts to cyno who has relaxed against the bedside chair listening quietly. you can't miss the slight frown tipping at the ranger's lips as he gestures for the matra to follow.
cyno presses a kiss to your furrowed brow before filing out behind him. you weren't sure if tighnari had been gone the entire time or not. the instructions towards your care never ceased, though collei was practiced enough at the point to work confidently in your stead. in the end, you doubted you would have gone this long without a scolding had he been in range.
their conversation was muted behind the leaf covering, though their silhouettes were still visible. tighnari held the reigns of the conversation for the longest before cyno intervened. the pair appeared to argue before tighnari's ears drop. there was a pause before the entrance splits and he comes in alone.
Glad to see you've made a full recovery.
“I haven't thanked you for that properly yet. so—”
tighnari interrupts you,” you're an idiot. but i take responsibility for you. what you did was substainably stupid and could have gotten you killed. on multiple occasions but i'm sure you've learned that lesson.”
you open your mouth to speak but he gives you that look.
“it seems, in part your efforts were not in vain. “
he takes cyno's vacant chair with a haggard sigh, you realize how much everyone has been through.
“we were already investigating the area we found you in. some merchants had reported losing mechanical parts to machines.” he laughs without humour. “maybe i should have consulted you. but i—” shakes his head.
“after we brought you here we returned and came across a lab that was feeding on ley line energy. we … we found slaughter there. he couldn't withstand the effects and his body gave out.”
the pressure is back behind your eyes and the urge to just let loose and cry is near overwhelming. tighnari aware of it all, moves closer until your chin rests on his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you in a firm hug.
“when it's safe, i'll take you to the lab. i think it will be good closure for you to finally put it all to rest,” he whispers as his hold tightens, grounding you.
you want answers. want to scour it all to finish it all now, but you know your body can't take it.
“no one other than cyno knows what we stumbled across. to be honest, it's too dangerous for anyone to be trying to excavate it. i shut down the ley lines but we agreed to leave it be until it's safe to access again. i'll personally monitor the area to see that no one wanders where they shouldn't.”
you feel the heat of tighnari's breath as he exhales and squeezes you once again.
“there was something else.”
you bite your lip to keep it from wobbling too obviously.
“abattouy was partially successful it seems. the one reason we found him was in part with the assistance of a machine named karkata. it seemed … close to him. there is a chance it might know more. it's actually very intelligent though its communication less to be desired. honestly, the fact that abattouy got that was is remmarbke. if it had not been for the ley line usage..”
he realizes he's rambling and pauses.
“there are some things i'm certain on but i'm not all knowing.”
you scoff, he cracks a grin.
“it appears that my faults are your strengths. karata needs some repairs and i happen to need an assistant.” he scowls as he feels your lips curl. “not you, archons. though i do need your help getting it back in good shape.”
you seem loss for words. so many questions. the akademiya. abattouy’s body. cyno?
tighari reads every question as if its written on your face. “i have the distant pleasure in not having to report to the akademiya with all of my comings and goings. i can store it as pardis for the time being. if i can convince it to play its part of a very convincing recording device, the perhaps it can be spared. ill work with cyno on those details.”
for the first time you consider your tenure with the akademiya. for all its promises, its taken more than you could give.
tighnari can tell that it's a lot.
“it's ultimately your choice. you still need to recover and i have some moving about to do. think it over.”
you nod, clumsily wiping away your tears with your wrist. you're sure you look a right mess. your eyes feel puffy, the skin beneath them sore and irritated from all the rubbing and crying.
tighnari's hand still rests against you, heavy and warm and so comforting. you feel it follow your body's movement as your lungs expand and then collapse. “you scared me, you idiot. don’t ever do that again.”
he gives your back a final pat before rising.
“now rest, i have a deal to make with a matra.”
you have to prove you can keep a pita pocket down before tighnari will let you leave the village. which feels like more of a challenge than it should be given in the punch of spices he'd managed to pack into there. even normal stomachs would quivey at the savory taste.
but you were determined. and tighnari had suspected as much as he stood over you in contemplation. it had not taken long for him to crack, unable to resist tugging you into a swaying embrace.
“alright, get changed and we can head out.”
if the fox heard you stumble and fall trying to force your limbs into the clothing, he pretended to know none the wiser. you could barely stand still as you fidgeted behind him while he delegated on the path out of the village.
this would be the first time you'd set foot past the entrance since being bed ridden. in between patrols, collei had taken it upon herself to guide you around the village to help work out the aches from being in bed for so long.
you were even more grateful for it during the long journey to pardis dhyai. tighnari had accounted for the frequent stops, always having a pouch of water or a handful of dried nuts and fruits available.
regardless of how you felt, you humored him with whatever was offered. the smart choice as the two of you managed to make it to the botany institute in relatively good time.
tighnari had spent the majority of the trip detailing anything and everything about karkata. apparently he'd become rather fond of it.
“i've been trying to come up with another reward system,” he mused as he held open the door to the gardens. “he doesn't need mechanical parts.”
it was hard to miss it. your eyes flickered over the familiar splashes of gold already knowing what would be unveiled even before the mechanical roused. with practiced ease, the cube split and pushed itself into a stand.
the red light at its center whirled to life, blinking once humming strong with life.
you already knew what to expect, but seeing it again and knowing its roots. tighnari was prepared, hand already smoothing against your back as your fingers chased the wet trails.
this was abattouy's life work standing safe and intact before you. uncorrupted by the word around it and a testament to its capabilities despite what the sages thought.
“from aba's records, i know it has the capability to replay messages. it may be something you have to fix.''
right. tighnari mentioned that it needed some work. from what you'd gathered it had been on its own for awhile and no doubt needed a few things replaced to keep it running. you would get on that immediately.
but before you could begin taking inventory. something happens.
its triggered by the sound of your name leaving tighari's lips. karkata makes a series of rumbles as its joints bounce on access. the light at its center flickers again and then a familiar voice enters the room.
'we're so close, karkata. i can't wait to show you to them. archon's i can just see their excitement. you're a wonder to be proud of, friend. and i know they will be too.'
abattouy spoke with such certainty as he mentioned you to the mechanical being. your name came with no introduction indicating that it wasn't the first time you'd been brought into conversation.
for so long, you'd been distressed about the thought of abattouy out on his own. and the whole time he—
“apparently abattouy worried about you as much as you him. you were both idiots like that.”
any thought about keeping the tears at bay evaporates in that moment. you barely manage to muffle the sob as you turn against tighnari's shoulder before it forces it way out of you. tighnari tightens his grip on you, keeping you grounded as the rolling mess of your emotions keeps on crashing into you.
behind you, karkata makes a sound of inquiry that tighnari hushes.
“it's okay. don't worry, they're not broken. with time, everything will heal.”
tagged: @hutaoscoffinn
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Black Clover Pacific Rim Au
Hi everyone I had this idea some time ago and talked to some people about. Few of us actually started writing something and it looked pretty good. This is still an open idea and very much a WIP, but I wanted to finally share it 💕 (took me 1.5 months to do so)
@funky-sea-cryptid @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @lyranova @loosesodamarble @koneko-pi @hybridanafrost
Some main information
Jeager pairings are the same as combo parings in BC mobile game (I'll go through them below)
This is the time, when the jesger program was at its peak, so there is a lot of them and they are well organised
Characters are stationed at the Clover base (which is in Japan) officially run by Augustus Kira (he's terrified of Kaiju and is there only to uphold his reputation and position)
The story starts with Asta and Yuno arriving at the Clover base as new junior pilots with their jeager
Just like in Pacific Rim, this story happens in real world and suit countries are bases
Jeager pairings at the beginning of the story:
(There could be more, these are just a few I have some ideas for.)
Nozel & Fuegoleon
Pilot one of the best jeagers in the whole world and are an extraordinary team.
They usually lead missions as captains.
They are very popular and known for their merits.
Everyone looks up to them and they have big fanclubs.
They go way back, so their drift is very efficient, until recent problems
They come from high situated families associated with the jeager program.
Asta & Yuno
They come from an orphanage and everyone suspects, that their parents died because of a Kaiju attack
They participate in try outs for jeager pilots
It appears that their drift is exceptional so they get it in to the training program, despite no one actually believing in them
Asta wants to become a jeager pilot, to obviously protect the citizens and become the next commander, but he also wants to impress a nun that was taking care of the boys in the orphanage
Yami & Jack
They are a mess to say at least, but at least they are efficient
This team is being sent out, when they need some unconventional methods
Their jeager uses sharp plasma edged swords and fights mostly close distance
Noelle & Mimosa
Since they come from the Vermillon and Silva families they are expected to do great
Nozel doesn't want Noelle to pilot a jeager, he says that she's weak, but she ends up signing up anyway
Girls are in the same training group as Asta and Yuno when they arrive at the Clover Base
However since Noelle was badly treated by her siblings she has problems with trust and her drift is very shaky
Her and Mimosa even though being effective in training fail in the jeager while drifting
However after Noelle gets to know Asta better, she learns how to deal with her emotions and past
Magna & Luck
They are the "wild" team
Their jeager is smaller, but very agile
It shoots fire projectiles and is able to electrocute
Luck's mother pushed him into the jeager program
At first it was hard for Luck to open up to Magna through drift
However later they begin to ghost drift... (This is Tam's and @t-f-t's idea!!!)
Also they are CHRONIC drift junkies (another amazing idea of Tam and Alex!)
Finral & Vanessa
Finral was pushed away by his influential family and ended up in the jeager program wanting to prove himself
Vanessa on the other hand was running away from her abusive mother
They clicked in the barracks, when they were sneaking out to a bar, during their training and it appeared they were compatible
They are a support jeager
Charlotte & Sol
Charlotte took Sol under her wing
They have a female looking jeager
Nacht & Morgen (Not active anymore 😔)
They used to be one of the best teams there were
However an accident happened and Morgen was ripped out of the jeager by a kaiju
Nacht finished the fight on his own, but it took a tool on him
He hasn't drifted with anyone since Morgen
He hangs around the base, but is very closed of, he only talks to few people
Julius (is he really by himself..?)
Julius is the only one known to pilot a jeager by himself
He excels at everything he does and quickly takes the lead
Commander of the forces
He has a secret partner pilot he doesn't know about... (yes it's Lucius)
Some relationships that happen:
Asta & Noelle (I have a story idea for them)
At first Noelle is apprehensive of him, but later, when she sees his good heart she warms up
Asta helps her and inspires Noelle to become stronger
She obviously never admits that she cares for him...
Yami & Charlotte
Their two teams usually don't work together and Charlotte seems to not be fond of Yami
However under the cold exterior she hides her crush on the rugged jeager pilot
They get to know each other while working at the same base
OCs
Briar belongs to @koneko-pi
Neva belongs to @lyranova
Josele belongs to @loosesodamarble
Lisa belongs to @one-leaf-grimoire
Odette belongs to @hybridanafrost
Helena is mine ;)
Solara belongs to @thoughtfullyrainynightmare
Briar (the meeting happens later in the story)
She is a modified human for a project Azure Queen
Azure-Queen was a scientific attempt to create and control their own Kaiju, made by the Diamond base
Azure queens are genetically modified women who can theoretically control the Kaiju
Each Queen has one Kaiju
Briar has Uroboros
Yuno & Neva
They met earlier in the Academy, previously to being assigned to the Clover base
Neva was adopted and taken care of by a famous pilot William Vangeance
She is closed of and at first they did not get along greatly
However with time they learned to lean on each other
Neva was transferred to the Clover base without a partner pilot
She was amazing at the simulators but was closed of and could not drift with anyone
Now she has six months to find a co pilot or she's out
Nacht & Josele
one of the reasons Nacht stayed at the base was Josele
Josele is a coach for the jaeger training program, she takes care of new recruits such as Asta and Yuno
she used to be with Morgen and his death hit her hard
Nacht experienced through drift the memories of Morgen and Josele, so even though he had feelings for her as well he pulled back
Now he can't leave, something urges him to stay and watch her back
Lisa & Julius
Julius saves Lisa during one of the Kaiju attacks
She is grateful and joins the fight against them
She becomes one of the military advisors and watches over the missions
Her and Julius's relationship develops and they become very close
Zora & Odette
Zora is the best on the simulator. He kicks ass of all of those who are "better fit" to be jeager pilots, but there's one problem. He can't find anyone to drift with.
He meets Odette a new trainee brought by Yami
And somehow they click
Now they need to go through training until getting their jeager
Nozel & Helena (obviously I have a more developed story here as well)
Helena is a doctor from Spain who wishes to help with the Kaiju war so she gets a job at the Clover base
Little does she know, that she will fall for a mysterious and cold jeager pilot
Nozel and Helena meet during a mandatory health check up for pilots, because she fills in for his previous doctor, with who Nozel parted on bad terms
Nozel is even more angry about the doctor change and they start off at the wrong foot
Additionally their personalities and views on how the jeager program is conducted differ
However with time something, maybe curiosity, mystery and definitely desire, draws them towards one another, but they keep their relationship secret
However that's not the only secret that Nozel hides...
The only one who knows about Nozelena is Fuegoleon, because he shares a drift with Nozel
Poor Fuego has to watch them be not necessarily proper 😂. However it's not like his attention is not completely swept by a foreign Drift specialist...
Fuegoleon & Solara
Solara is a specialist, when it comes to drift. She compares the memories to the flowing river and teaches the pilots how to navigate and let it flow, so they would more efficient
She was brought to the base by Mereolona, who normally doesn't pilot, but can join in when needed (she's a beast then)
Solara feels a special connection to a certain red headed pilot, who is one of those she's supposed to help with his recent drift problems
At first Fuego and Lara are shy and some misunderstandings slow down the pace of their relationship
However as time passes it develops into something deep and real
There are some problems, because other bases, especially the one she transferred from, need Solara, but the pair fights to be together
Some OC owners have more developed stories for their own OCs. I hope I didn't mix anything here in this summary.
I to be honest have some specific ideas only for two (Nozelena and Astelle).
#Finally posting it...#Sorry guys it took forever#black clover#black clover oc#black clover au#pacific rim au#nozel silva#fuegoleon vermillion#yuno grinberryall#nacht faust#julius novachrono#noelle silva#black clover asta#yami sukehiro#helena drazel#nozel x helena#fuegoleon x solara#solara equinox#yuno x neva#neva belmonte#nacht x josele#josele canty#lisa petalon#lisa x julius#astelle#black clover pacific rim au#pacific rim
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Hey do you have some Tornac headcanons please?
So. uh. This is probably a lot more than you bargained for lmao, I went a bit crazy. This is mostly a continuous story of his backstory through roughly the first year he raised Murtagh, then some more random headcanons after that.
I just. love Tornac <3
-
- Tornac is the son of the marshal, who oversees the military presence of a nobleman’s castle. His father starts training him in combat when he’s young simply for practicality, with the hope that he can take over his role when he’s older.
- Tornac learns very quickly, even when he’s young. He didn’t have any fervent dreams of knighthood or glory, yet he’s always unwaveringly prepared for new challenges to overcome.
- No one around him entirely recognizes what they have on their hands as Tornac goes through his first several years of training. He steadily masters every skill presented to him, not without struggling, but he never struggles for very long. His father can tell he’s especially talented and he’s impressed when he has nothing more to teach him when Tornac is just 14. He knows his son will be a great swordsman, but it doesn’t occur to him to imagine far beyond the scope of his own largely unremarkable life.
- Regardless, his father is kind and wants him to excel, so he arranges for Tornac train under a more venerated knight in another city. He goes and he learns the more advanced skills the knight teaches him until Tornac can best him too, after only a little more than a year after arriving.
- With the impressed recommendation of his previous tutor, Tornac gets passed around to increasingly renowned warriors, and yet, his capabilities never seem to reach a limit they can’t grow beyond. He never finds a mentor he can’t eventually defeat. Belatedly, his peers and patrons come to realize that Tornac is a true prodigy, something the Empire’s army inevitably takes notice of.
- In his youth, Tornac himself is hard working, reserved, and intensely pragmatic, never particularly outgoing or adventurous. He never cared to question the path his father set him on, even once his father was no longer the one laying it out for him. He’s good at this, and that was reason enough for him to decide to build his livelihood as a soldier. He never stops to consider any other possibility for himself.
- So when the army takes him into the fold to test his mettle, he goes along readily. Even the expertise hoarded by the Empire can’t hold him back by then. He has so little left to learn, and what he does he learns swiftly before conquering every last challenge. At just 20 years old, he earns the simple but resounding reputation of the best warrior of his day- and quite possibly in the history of the Empire.
- (I do imagine Tornac as the best human warrior in the series. In a hypothetical situation where he might have lived, he had the skills to defeat any of the other humans at any point in the story.)
- Tornac needs no convincing to accept a position in the army, especially after his father expresses his support of the opportunity. It is by far the clearest place for him and he struggles to imagine a different option that could suit him, so he doesn’t dwell on the choice to enlist. He honestly doesn’t know what else to do with himself.
- He wasn’t raised with any special loyalty to the Empire. He sees his role in the army as performing a job more so than serving a cause. He’s dismissive of the politics behind the army and he falls short enacting the zealous allegiance that the army prefers to instill in its soldiers.
- Nevertheless, by the merit of his unparalleled swordsmanship, Tornac rises through the ranks swiftly. He doesn’t do much to actively seek out his promotions, not very ambitious by nature, but his reputation elevates him, and after a few years, he settles in the position of commander.
- Tornac spends over a decade in the army, notorious, but no longer just for the fact that he remains undefeated. The years sour him and wear away at every soft part of him, leaving only jagged flint behind. Tornac’s remarkable prowess in combat doesn’t innately suit him to command. He’s adept at it, he would have never lasted so long if he wasn’t, but he hates it. It taxes him horribly, managing so many soldiers- he hates the endless monotony, logistic headaches, enforcing discipline, handling every problem, and ordering around everyone without the common sense to figure out anything on their own. He does it, but he hates every minute of it.
- Tornac grows notorious for being a dismally strict commander, never to the point that he’s called cruel, but famously impatient. It’s an accurate description. He’s utterly intolerant of any disrespect or crassness, irascible and very swift to snap at anyone who’s made a mistake or fumbled their responsibilities, and browbeats his men for talking back to him or his orders.
- It creates an endless cycle of stress and he drinks when he can find the time to try to alleviate the tension. He’s perpetually discontent, but he sees no alternative.
- Tornac carries out his own orders successfully and wins every battle against the Varden’s men when they pressure their borders. While the Empire uses the less effective units of its army to police its own citizens and ensure compliance, it sends Tornac to deal with the real threats. He becomes a very experienced and renowned veteran, but he doesn’t make many friends.
- Tornac is in his thirties when he’s appointed Murtagh’s warden. Of course, in an official capacity, Galbatorix is the guardian of his most loyal servant’s son, but the child’s day to day life is beneath him and so he summons Tornac.
- Tornac is bewildered to be plucked from his post by a direct invitation from the king with no explanation. It’s nothing compared to his absolute shock when Galbatorix announces he is to oversee the upbringing of Morzan’s four year old son. Overshadowing the already confounding revelation that Morzan had a child at all, he cannot fathom why he should have any responsibility over him. He argues that he has absolutely no skill with children and he has duties to fulfill on the other side of the country. Galbatorix informs him that he’s been relieved of his command so he may take on this task.
- Under any other circumstance, Tornac might be overjoyed to hear he doesn’t have to toil in the army any longer, but in the moment, it feels like his world is falling apart. He’s carefully built his whole life around the things he already has full confidence and understanding in, and now, all at once he’s being thrown into something utterly unknown and untried.
- And he has never wanted children. He hates his command because he hates being bothered, and the only thing he can imagine bothering him more is a shrieking toddler. He’ll lose his mind.
- His blindsided panic gets the better of him and he argues against his orders much more brashly than he would have dared to otherwise. Cool and stoney, Galbatorix cuts across him, saying, “Morzan’s son is to become a great warrior. I am giving him the guidance of Alagaesia’s finest swordsman so that he will not fail that expectation.”
- The king leaves not even a hair’s breadth of room for defiance and so Tornac stops showing any. It gets through to him that this is real, so he bows and accepts the task. He might not feel much loyalty to the Empire, but he’s not a fool and he knows full well that the king is not someone to be denied.
- And so it happens that the most famed and maladjusted commander of the Empire’s army becomes the caretaker of Morzan’s four year old son.
- Galbatorix was being honest in his explanation to Tornac. His reason for assigning him to raise Murtagh was Tornac’s martial prowess. From the beginning, he intends to use Murtagh as a weapon when he’s old enough, whether he becomes a Rider or not. So it’s of the greatest importance that he learns to be a strong warrior, and since that requires dedicated training throughout his youth, that’s what he needs Tornac to provide more than anything else.
- The rest Galbatorix is confident he can handle when the time comes to recruit Murtagh. He knows Tornac is rather dispassionate about the Empire and is unlikely to instill much loyalty in Murtagh, but he feels fully willing and able to force Murtagh into compliance if need be, so he doesn’t let that get in the way.
- He’s also aware of Tornac’s less than kindly reputation, but that doesn’t bother him either. In fact, Galbatorix welcomes the possibility that Tornac might mistreat him similarly to how Morzan did- as long as he doesn’t cause more lasting, physical harm. Instinctive, ingrained fear of punishment is something he could make effective use of later down the line.
- So Galbatorix ignores Tornac’s objections that he would be a bad warden for a young child. He will serve the purpose the king actually cares about- forging a weapon.
- Thus Tornac is provided a new life in Uru’baen’s citadel, more lavish than he’s ever known. He’s introduced to his quarters, the household staff, and finally, his ward.
- He doesn’t know what he thought Morzan’s progeny would be, but it certainly wasn’t Murtagh. He’s scrawny and oh so small, with huge, gray eyes deep with uncertainty. He holds himself tense and moves around carefully- because of his wounded back, Tornac soon learns.
- And he’s quiet. Murtagh is remarkably, blessedly quiet.
- At first, Tornac revels in this, astounded by his good luck. He expected a shrill, petulant, and entitled child he simply wouldn’t be able to cope with, but Murtagh is so withdrawn and out of the way, he can almost forget he’s even there. He can live with this, and the relief is profound.
- It doesn’t last, though. After the first week, Tornac starts to get frustrated by how difficult it is to communicate with his new ward. He shies away from his attempts to glean anything about him, mumbling only the most noncommittal answers, then when he does tug on his sleeve, he fails to say what exactly he needs. Murtagh needs so much coaxing to come out of his shell, only to retract again at the drop of a hat, and Tornac finds himself struggling to keep his patience.
- In the way Galbatorix silently anticipated, Tornac does snap at Murtagh in those early days. His habitual stress responses make him raise his voice and reprimand him for being difficult, trying to forcibly override Murtagh’s behavior. It’s counterproductive enough that it starts to make Tornac uncomfortable in a way he’s never felt before.
- Any satisfaction he first felt at Murtagh’s quietness has vanished. He’d rather deal with a well behaved child, but a four year old should have more energy than this, no matter his shyness. His reticence strikes him as more and more unnatural.
- A far cry from what he dreaded when he was told to care for a child, this is how he would imagine having an exceedingly skittish cat. Murtagh hides under the furniture, he tries to leave the room the moment someone else enters, he never makes eye contact with him for more than a heartbeat, and he’s so damn quiet!
- He’s concerned for Murtagh, Tornac realizes, grieved by the signs of fear and pain in a child so young. This is as far as he can get from his responsibilities in the army, and his methods of dealing with it like a commander are clearly making things worse.
- Tornac pulls back to reevaluate. He may be woefully unknowledgeable about children, but his father always told him that his natural talent as a warrior came from his impeccable intuition. He can intuit this. He can observe and analyze and adapt to figure this out, because those are skills he does have.
- He breathes and steadies himself, calming himself like he does before a duel. He aligns himself to Murtagh’s own pace to start off, then adjusts from there. He forcefully reminds himself he’s not working under any deadlines anymore, he has no duties that pile up during any delay, and he lets himself wait for Murtagh to find a degree of courage and comfort in his own very lengthy time. Some days, he never does, but as Tornac allows himself to take this as a chance to rest and recuperate as well, patience comes so much easier. Enough that Murtagh occasionally overcomes his anxiety and opens up to him.
- Tornac resolves to better step into the role assigned to him. He involves himself more consistently in Murtagh’s day to day, he bends his focus and decisions towards his safety and comfort, and he starts to teach him lessons. Murtagh’s still so young that they’re hardly vital, so he keeps them short and light, hoping for enjoyment over education.
- He does that so Murtagh can gain a semblance of routine and, more than that, so he can get a sense of Tornac’s role in his life. It lets him see that he doesn’t need to fear his presence and intentions. It’s a way for Tornac can demonstrate that he has no desire to hurt him.
- And not just that he doesn’t want to inflict new hurt, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his old wounds either.
- Murtagh won’t talk to him at all if he can smell any whiff of alcohol, doing everything he can to escape his presence, so Tornac cuts back on his drinking. He finds himself remarkably unbothered by it, and it’s far easier than he imagined.
- Murtagh flinches and cowers whenever Tornac pats him on the head, immediately on the defensive. It leaves him so on edge and desperate to perform perfect behavior that Tornac can’t unravel the source of his fear when it happens. Only after a while does he coax Murtagh into revealing that his father used to manhandle him by dragging him by the hair.
- So Tornac trains himself not to reach for his head and pats his shoulder instead, squeezing lightly to comfort him. And he tries to come up with another way to convince him not to worry about it because the child has a real knack for getting his hair tangled and he could really use a brush.
- As Tornac lets go of his habits and reinvents his approach to this new situation, he changes. His anger and discontent peter out. His impatience is nowhere to be found. Once he stops expecting every little thing to stress him out, it stops happening, and he realizes that his stress was a habit in itself, born of years and years in a role that didn’t suit him.
- Tornac finds happiness and fulfillment he never imagined in being a caretaker, a guardian, and a teacher. It gives him peace.
- There is a span of time in the midst of this, when Murtagh starts to trust him but before he learns how to fully opens up, that he shares himself with Tornac without the words he’s not yet comfortable with. Quietly, mumbling sometimes, he gives Tornac a small, worn book of sweet poems for him to read to him. He grabs his hand and leads him to meet the cat he befriended in the yard. He presents him with his most cherished and only remaining toy and even lets him hold it.
- At this point, two things happen. Watching Tornac engage with the things he loves with careful and genuine care makes Murtagh accept Tornac and give him his complete trust. He decides he’s someone he can rely on and wants to turn to whenever he needs to. Murtagh sees in Tornac what he always wanted to have from his parents.
- Simultaneously, Tornac falls in love with Murtagh. He discovers such a wonderful, precious child, and the tendencies he previously saw as stains of fear and damage, now he can see nothing but bravery and resilience within them. He wants to see him grow and thrive and he wants to contribute anything he can to that. If someone told him just a few months ago that he would be doting on his ward like a parent pampering their firstborn, he would have laughed himself to tears. But before he even realizes what’s happening, Tornac’s wholeheartedly dedicated to raising Murtagh.
- Tornac gets over the initial hurdle of putting Murtagh at ease. He comes out of his shell and has a lot more energy and talks much more. He’s eager and expectant, so Tornac now faces the overall task of parent with a feeling of, Okay, now what the fuck do I do?
- That is the recurring theme through the next 14 years he spends raising Murtagh.
- Things balance out now that Murtagh’s recovered enough to start a routine more typical for a young child. He has tutors and training and activities through the days. And now that Tornac himself is better adjusted and doesn’t need to spend all his energy on Murtagh’s immediate issues, he notices his own isolation. He doesn’t have any friends. He’s so used to that that he doesn’t feel particularly upset by it, but he figures Murtagh probably shouldn’t be raised by a recluse.
- So he tries. He’s not very social and his early efforts to make friends feel painfully awkward, but he slowly gets closer to a few people. Not many, but he’ll just never be that type and he’s fine with that. The head retainer of the household with her vicious wit. The jovial old man who makes the combat training regimens. The head groom of the castle stables.
- They become the closest. Tornac tells him a lot about the antics of raising Murtagh. His friend always laughs and says he’s got a great kid, but for his part, he’ll stick to horses. He is the one who provides the foal Tornac gives Murtagh.
- Tornac tries his damnedest to stop him from naming the horse after him, but it’s a losing battle. The kid’s too stubborn to admit that he just couldn’t come up with anything better and refuses to change it. Depending on who’s being more cooperative with his interests, his horse or his warden, Murtagh enjoys designating “the better Tornac”. When Murtagh’s not using the name for jokes, the horse is often called “Tor” for clarity.
- Tornac sleeps like the dead, he is so hard to wake up. Murtagh is always a restless sleeper and struggles with nightmares. When he’s young, sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he goes into Tornac’s room to sleep with him. He crawls up onto the bed and full on rearranges Tornac, moving his arms and shuffling all around him until he’s finally comfortable and Tornac sleeps through the whole thing. He wakes up with his arms wrapped around Murtagh who’s snuggled against his chest as he tries to do the bleary mental math of if he was there the whole time or if he’s a new addition.
- Tornac is aromantic. He was focused on other things when he was younger, and whatever shift was supposed to add romance to his focuses as he grew up just never seemed to happen. He makes plenty of excuses for that to himself, all the while finding other people’s dedicated interest in romance vaguely weird. He never feels the urge to know what he’s missing.
- He doesn’t quite identify it as an underlying lack of attraction. In his brief musings about it, he comes to the conclusion that, oh well, he must just have unreasonably high standards that no one can actually meet and that’s the reason no one appeals to him, then he shrugs and never thinks about it again. He never marries or has any kids other than Murtagh.
- Murtagh does get an impression of this when he’s a bit older, starting when he gets his first crush. Of course he turns to Tornac, because he knows everything, only for him to shrug and go, “Maybe flowers, I think flowers are supposed to be romantic, right? Try that?” He’s no help at all.
- Murtagh considers what Tornac does not, which is that if too high standards are what’s actually behind his disinterest, that would be extremely frustrating. But Tornac seems perfectly content without a partner. Murtagh knows even if the perfect person walked into his life, Tornac wouldn’t want them.
- Both Tornac and Murtagh have conflicted feelings about outright calling each other father and son. It’s something they never fully work through before Tornac’s death.
- For Tornac, he’s reluctant to call himself Murtagh’s father because of self consciousness. Despite his best efforts, Murtagh has a rather tumultuous upbringing with no small amount of suffering. He’s mistreated by many people around him and some get close enough to hurt him more dramatically. Murtagh endures attacks, manipulation, betrayal, coercion, and a few, worse things.
- Tornac beats himself up for not protecting Murtagh from these wounds. He believes a real father should take better care of his child and balks from claiming Murtagh as his son when he feels like he failed him in that regard.
- For Murtagh, he refrains from declaring himself Tornac’s son because he feels like a burdensome child. Murtagh sees himself as trouble, unreasonably difficult and hard to deal with. He’s so conspicuous and marked by preconceptions he never had the chance to control, and trouble flocks to him without end. His life will be a thorny mess no matter what either of them do, and Murtagh fears Tornac would never want to claim a child like that.
- Even when he’s trying his best, awful things happen to him that Tornac has to manage and that makes Murtagh so deeply guilty. He doesn’t want to force Tornac to accept him as his responsibility more than he already has to through the even tighter bond of being his son.
- Wholeheartedly, they mutually feel that they are truly and fundamentally father and son. But they never find the courage to say it as profoundly as they feel.
- Murtagh blames himself for Tornac’s death- for not fleeing the moment Galbatorix first tried to beguile him, for asking Tornac to escape with him despite the danger, for not protecting him better.
- Tornac would be inexpressibly proud of who Murtagh’s become.
#eragon#inheritance cycle#tornac#murtagh#galbatorix#answered ask#i love tornac so fucking much#if he had lived he wouldve burned the whole world for murtagh#he would have never given up on him like everyone else did 😭😭😭#also we love an aromantic king#my writing
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hi betts! i was wondering if you would be willing to explain a little further about the third thing in a concept you spoke about in the feb '22 issue of lkwrnl? would you describe it as an unexpected conflict? i'm just not sure i've wrapped my head around it! thanks! :]
sure! "third thing" is really not a great term for it and i wish i'd thought of a better one before writing that newsletter. sometimes i use the phrase "initial escalation." an initial escalation is something that elevates or complicates the conflict just as the audience is getting grounded in the story.
my definition of a conflict is "establishing a status quo, and something happens to interrupt the status quo." the third thing/initial escalation is, "something happens to complicate the interruption of the status quo."
here is a very simplistic/ridiculous example:
you have the protagonist, let's say a hero, driving the forward movement of the story. you then have the antagonist, a villain, pushing against that forward movement and slowing it down.
a hero getting to their destination without any obstacles is not very interesting. a villain thwarting their efforts creates a conflict. but still, that's two things, two forces, and i can kind of predict where it's headed. that's not a bad thing. it just means i'm grounded in the story.
the third thing, the initial escalation, would be to put both of them in a burning building. this complicates our understanding of their motivations. they can no longer prioritize their primary objective; they have to work together to escape the burning building. they're suddenly allied.
now i have no idea what to expect. will the protagonist and antagonist being on the same side for a time alter the trajectory of the story? will it change decisions we predict of hero vs. villain?
note that the burning building/third thing/initial escalation is not a twist. twists happen at the end of a story. this is merely an early complication that alters the anticipated plot trajectory.
most stories don't have a third thing. many don't even have a second thing. i'm looking at my bookshelf right now to find an example and noticing how few of my books have a plot at all. and that's fine. plot isn't really necessary in telling a good story.
upon looking at my letterboxd diary, i've found an example. the last movie i watched was Poor Things. the premise is that Bella (Emma Stone) is a grown woman whose brain has been transplanted with that of a newborn infant, and so she's learning how to be a person. as she grows, she feels stifled by her "father" (Willem Dafoe) and wants to see the world. she gets her chance when a sleazy lawyer (Mark Ruffalo) offers to help her escape, in exchange for being at his mercy (but she doesn't understand that).
it's your basic princess story in the format of a bildungsroman (i did really like this movie, but i'm an easy sell on bildungsromans). it's still three things:
forward movement: Bella growing and discovering how to be a person, which is a story with its own merit
opposing force: her father keeping her safe by imprisoning her, halting her growth and desire for sex meaning
initial escalation: the lawyer sweeping her away, only to trap her too, so that she has to escape his grasp as well, and in doing so her growth, the forward movement, is happening but it's more complicated now than it would have been if she'd just walked out the door
(note: this is a VERY fucky movie, and i mean that literally. there's so much sex. like so much. truly regret seeing this with my sister.)
sometimes the escalation is in the structure of a story, like an alternative point of view or another timeline. sometimes it's an added element to a trope that subverts our expectation of how the trope plays out. anything that escalates or complicates the inciting incident in act 1 of a story is a third thing.
again i want to emphasize that there are many amazing stories that only have forward movement, especially if what's driving it is exploratory. most stories have two dimensions, and those are also perfectly good stories. the third thing only exists to escalate and complicate, and not every story needs that.
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I put off watching it for a while because I was pretty sure I was going to have this reaction. But now that I've bitten the bullet, I'm sorry: the Strange New Worlds musical episode is bad. It's bad as a Star Trek story, it's bad as part of the Strange New Worlds story, and it's bad as a musical.
To start with, I think it's time to admit that the musical episode concept is pretty depleted. "Once More, With Feeling" was more than twenty years ago, and what was once fresh and shocking now feels almost rote. Very few shows really manage to earn it, because they don't have to - the musical episode of a non-musical show is an established trope, which means the very thing that made it so groundbreaking is now gone.
But it's specifically a bad fit for Star Trek, not because it can't justify the concept - there's honestly no daylight between Buffy's "a demon who makes people sing and dance" and SNW's "subspace anomaly pulls us into a universe where people habitually break into song" - but because that kind of fourth-wall-breaking, genre-aware storytelling doesn't belong in Star Trek (or, at the very least, it belongs in something a lot more heightened like Lower Decks).
Star Trek isn't knowing. It isn't genre-savvy. Star Trek is earnest. And it takes its world seriously and treats it like something coherent in its own right, not something you can poke holes in and peek into our own universe from. When it comes down to it, the core flaw of all NuTrek shows is that they're often less concerned with being Star Trek, the story, and more interested in being about Star Trek, the franchise.
Strange New Worlds is an odd duck in this respect, because there are parts of it that so clearly understand Star Trek, the story, and are so clearly interested in expanding it, that I can't help but fall in love. Episodes like "Spock Amok", "A Quality of Mercy", and "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" do such a great job of slotting into the existing story while making it their own (though I could wish the show was better at telling original stories). I'm especially wowed by how they're handling Kirk, who is such a smart, non-sensational take on the character while still having all the recognizable flaws and quirks of the original.
But it's also a show that thinks breaking the fourth wall is the height of sophistication, that is more than willing to comment on its storyness in a way that runs completely counter to its Star Trek-ness. You see this in episodes like "The Elysian Kingdom", "Those Old Scientists", and now "Subspace Rhapsody". And if the first two of those at least had a Star Trek link - "Elysian Kingdom" is essentially a holodeck episode (even if it isn't as good as any of them), and "Those Old Scientists" is obviously all about Star Trek (even if, like so many media franchises these days, it collapses living in the Star Trek universe into being a Star Trek fan). But "Subspace Rhapsody" is just a gimmick, fundamentally no different from similar episodes on Lucifer or Grey's Anatomy or The Flash.
And worst of all, it's a bad musical. One effect of the fact that this trope has become so familiar is that it has created an sideline for talented songwriters who can knock out an episode like this without putting much personality or style into it, just hitting the required beats. There's got to be a power ballad. There's got to be a comedy song. There's got to be a kicky saloon number and a big finale. "Subspace Rhapsody" feels like the nadir of that cottage industry's output. The songs are all generic. The lyrics are forgettable while you're listening to them. There's no unified theme or style, because the point isn't to be a musical. It's to convey a general sense of musical-ness. Beyond the novelty value of a Star Trek musical - which, as noted, is pretty degraded in 2023 - there's nothing here of artistic merit, much less something that feels uniquely like a Star Trek musical.
(Case in point: the Klingons. Having them do boy band music is a joke that's funny for the audience, probably means nothing to the characters, and most importantly, does not make sense within Star Trek. Of course Klingons would sing - they would sing opera.)
As if to add insult to injury, the biggest character development in the episode - which is also driven by the only memorable song - feels baffling, and ends up shortchanging a relationship that the show has been trying to get us to invest in for more than ten episodes. Spock and Chapel got together at the end of episode 6, had a crisis in episode 8, and are now, in episode 9, breaking up for another, unrelated reason. Seems like a better use of everyone's time might have been to let these characters and their relationship develop organically, rather than informing us, through song, that Chapel has suddenly decided to prioritize her career (by, um, leaving Enterprise for so short a period that most couples wouldn't even consider it a major relationship challenge). Are we meant to understand that something deeper was wrong, and that the internship has brought it to light? If so, why haven't we seen it? It's hard not to feel that the musical was being used as a shorthand for emotional development the show didn't feel equipped to deliver, which is only one more way in which it underserves the show.
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