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chazz-anova · 3 years

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A Little Bit Of Magic - Chapter 1

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Lady Veronica Rook, a wizard turned rogue bounty hunter and part time thief, is approached by one of the King's men on a stormy night to acquire her services. Little does she know, she's setting off on a quest that will change her forever. (Fantasy!AU)

A/N: LITERALLY I saw one picture and that spawned this entire AU lmao, this has been a fun start and I'm excited for the rest of this little mini-series! I hope you all like as well <3

Dancing candlelight casted amorphous shadows on a bare stone wall. In the center of the room, a firepit blazed; warming the bones of weary travelers who sought refuge from a tempest storm brewing outside the walls of the inn.

Barmaids bustled from table to table, bringing stout ale to rowdy patrons. One such patron sat at the short oak bar, nursing a tankard of beer. In front of the customer stood a barkeep who looked rather piqued. “Veronica, every night you sit here and take up space that could be filled by paying customers. Pray tell, what must I do to squeeze some coin from you?” The woman asked, her sunny blonde hair bobbing as she swept a damp rag over the counter.

Across the bar, Veronica looked up from her stein with a smirk as she replied, “You’d just as likely squeeze coin from me as easily as you’d milk a dragon, Mary May. Is there not a special allowance for a friend who’s saved your life twice over?”

“If I’d known your aid would end up costing me damn near a barrel of ale in the long run, I would have gladly thrown myself into the jaws of death!” Mary professed dramatically, a small smile giving her away.

V rose her tankard high, proclaiming “And what you pay in ale, you make back doubly in entertainment!”

With a sigh- the barmaid stashed the rag she’d been holding under the counter. “Well allow me to take my leave, before your entertainment proves to be too much!” Mary May rolled her eyes as she departed to the back storeroom; Veronica always knew how to work her last nerve.

Now left to her own devices, the woman spun in her seat to analyze the other patrons. She hoped with any luck, she could swindle some coin from someone deep in their cups to secure a room for the night. Unfortunately- saving a friend’s life only afforded you free drinks, not free rooms. Having grown up in the streets of the Kingdom of Hope, Veronica trusted her pickpocketing skills; especially in a tavern such as this.

The Splayed Eagle Inn was run by V’s friend, Mary May, and had been her home for the past few months. All types found themselves in this bar, whether they be well-to-do, working class, or a simple ne’er-do-well. Of course- Veronica liked to think she didn’t fit into any of those categories.

Sitting around the main floor of the inn were a few possible targets, and our girl set to sizing up the first; an older man seated in the corner. He wore the garb of the royal guard. His complexion was that of worn leather, and his eyes scanned the room suspiciously. ‘Not a great mark..’ Veronica thought, shifting her gaze to her next person.

The person in question was not a person at all, but rather a dwarf. The short man guzzled beer from his stein greedily, egged on by two more of his kind. Finishing the drink he slammed down his cup and roared in revelry. ‘Though dwarves love gold and these ones would certainly have some coin, perhaps they are a hair too unmanageable for a robbery.’ Considering this, the woman moved down the list.

Just as Veronica was about to size up her next mark, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blonde turned, expecting to see Mary May had returned to give her more grief. V was surprised to see an unfamiliar face and she immediately went on the defense, shrugging the stranger’s hand off her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Her words dripped with distrust.

The stranger met her eyes with a look of contempt, and V considered grabbing her dagger in case things became dicey. The woman who’d grabbed her shoulder stepped back now, regarding Veronica coldly with dark eyes. She wore a black fur cape with the hood up, obscuring her features, though her greasy black hair hung in matted locks on her shoulders. She lifted her hood to reveal a ghastly scar across her face. “Yes, mage, I do believe you can help me.” The stranger chuckled.

Hearing her true title, Veronica started visibly, but quickly recovered. ‘How does she know? Certainly this wench is no mage, I sense no magic in her! Is she an assassin from the Guild? Gods, Mary May will kill me if I’ve brought such darkness to her doorstep!’ V’s inner monologue was harried, in contrast to her cool voice as she rebuffed, “Mage? Surely you jest! I am but a humble adventurer.”

Spitting at her feet, the woman scoffed. “Save your lies! I already know of you, Lady Veronica, and of your discharge from the Royal Mages Guild. I come seeking your help in regards to your… new vocation.”

“And what would that be?” V continued to be difficult, her tone hostile. She didn’t like how much this woman knew of her.

“Bounty hunting, of course. Or was it not you that the Royal Guard granted a bounty to just a week ago for bringing in one of the Banshee Queen’s sprites?” At this, Veronica’s mouth drew into a thin line. She knew she’d been got. The ravenette shrugged, “I dare not judge, how else is a rogue witch to make any coin these days?” Though she put on a facade of good cheer, something dangerous lurked in her gaze.

A humorless laugh escaped Ronnie and she lifted her chin defiantly, “Even if you speak the truth, why should I help you, hag?”

Smiling cruelly, she retorted “It is not I who requests your service, but your King and country.”

“Well, his Kingly-ness will simply have to bring is ass down here if he truly wants me help!” V laughed, chalking up the woman’s words to a childish prank.

Suddenly- the stranger closed the short distance between them and the mage felt the tip of a blade threatening to pierce her gut. “I would recommend a modicum of respect for King Dutch. As his bodyguard, I may feel inclined to defend his honor.”

Under her breath, Veronica murmured ancient arcane words and a ball of flames appeared in her spread palm near the woman’s head. “And I may feel inclined to worsen your scar if you do not back away.” She growled the threat, feeling a rush of relief when the King’s bodyguard moved away. She would rather not release a fan of fire in her friend’s bar.

Sheathing her dagger, the woman took a breath. “Let us start over. I am Jess Black, bodyguard and right hand to King Dutch Roosevelt.” She gave a stately bow along with her title.

“Well Lady Black, what would you have of me?” V asked, voice laden with suspicion. Though she preferred to seek her own bounties, a requisition from the King was sure to bring decent coin.

As they began to discuss business, Jess took a seat next to Veronica and spoke vaguely. “Our ruler would have you retrieve a package for him, for a hefty reward.” When the mage said nothing, she continued, “I cannot divulge the details- but you will find what you need in the hamlet of Fall’s End with a cleric named Jerome.”

“Am I expected to go forward with such little information?” She shook her head in disbelief, finally finishing her drink.

“You are expected to do as our ruler bids! I have told you all I know.”

Veronica’s brow furrowed as she probed, “Surely his majesty has sent some sort of incentive, if it is truly he who sent you!”

Jess sighed heavily, producing a leather pouch from the folds of her cape. She set it on the bar with a clink, and V grabbed it immediately. “Gods, there must be nearly forty gold here!” She exclaimed, counting it out quickly.

“Our benefactor has put this forward as a downpayment of sorts, with the promise of more once he’s gotten his package. On the condition that you leave immediately.” Jess asserted with a nod.

The blonde eyed the gold hungrily- knowing she was on hard times. “Well if my kingdom needs me, who am I to resist the call? Though surely ‘immediately’ could mean ‘first thing in the morn’, with his Highness’s mercy?”

Putting a hand on the pouch of gold, the ravenette shook her head. “I must insist on your departure this night, King Roosevelt wishes for no delay in your meeting with Jerome.”

For a moment Veronica’s gaze shifted from Jess back to the pouch of gold, but she relented with a sigh. “It will take me a moment to prepare myself, and I shall make haste.”

Jess gave a rare smile, acquiescing “Your speed is most appreciated.” She turned to the back wall of the bar then, wondering aloud, “Where is the damn barkeep?”

With their conversation over and coin now heavy in her pocket, V slipped behind the bar to the back office where she’d stashed her travel pack.

Mary May’s office was small but tidy, featuring a large desk and business ledger. Sitting there was Mary herself, counting out coin into the safe next to the desk. Next to the safe was Veronica’s beige backpack, which May let her stash in the office during business hours. Hearing her footsteps, the blonde turned away from her safe to face V. “Ah, come to retrieve your loot without buying a room to store it in first? You must have gotten yourself a job.”

A smile crossed Veronica’s features, showing pearly white teeth. “You know me well friend, I must be off immediately unfortunately, so it would appear you’ll save some ale tonight yet!” She crossed the threshold into the room, leaning over the other to grab her sack.

“My, it must be an illustrious one to cause you to abandon a perfectly good night of drinking!” She chuckled.

This made the blonde stop a moment as she considered telling her friend the details. Thinking better of it, she instead said, “Nothing so fancy! I should be back in a week at the latest, try not to miss me too much!” Giving Mary May a chuckle., Before Veronica was fully out the door, she leaned back to say quickly “And be sure to give your worst service to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar!”

V slung her sack across her back, weaving through Mary May’s drunken customers towards the front door. Once she cleared the room, she turned back one last time and saw Jess staring at her as she departed. The look on her face gave her chills.

The heavy door to the Splayed Eagle Inn opened with a prolonged creak, and gave way to a gust of wind that caused the mage to pull her cloak closer around her. She stepped foot into the deluge outside and hustled into the treeline, taking her first steps towards facing an evil she couldn’t begin to imagine.

#fc5 #far cry 5 #veronica rook #jess black #mary may fairgrave #my writing #fantasy!au #a little bit of magic

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thorne93 · 4 years

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The Softest Fire (Part 9)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 1612

Warnings: dealing with animals(??), manipulation, angst

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo.

I awoke in a dark room, not by lack of light, but by the deep blacks and greens all over the sitting area. I was laid in a chaise lounge, with Gellert across from me in a chair. He was leaned back, watching me, observing me. Other than feeling groggy, I felt perfectly fine, relaxed even.

“She’s awake,” Queenie’s voice suddenly sounded in the room.

“Tell me about her,” he demanded in a smooth voice, positioning himself closer to me.

“She possesses great power… and she knows this…”

“How great?” he asked.

“Seems like she’s got something close to one Albus Dumbledore… You know him?”

He seemed to stiffen at the name. “Yes, I do. Go on, what else?”

“She’s got a broken heart,” Queenie explained, sounding a little perplexed.

At this, Gellert raised his eyebrows. “Oh, she does, does she? Who? Why? What happened?”

As Queenie dug, she gasped after a moment. I suppose I should’ve felt exposed, vulnerable, violated… But laying there, I felt as if I’d woken up from the most refreshing slumber I’d ever had.

“Newt Scamander… He loves my sister… Rosaline told him and he didn’t say anything in return. So she’s heartbroken that he loves someone else.”

“Ah, unrequited love… It truly does hurt, doesn’t it?” he asked as he got up and took a place by my feet on the lounge.

“She feels like a last resort…. Like she’s never good enough,” Queenie added. The truth of her words made my heart sting, even through the euphoria.

Gellert looked to Queenie, then nodded, as if to dismiss her.

“Darling, I would very much like it if you joined me.”

I smiled up at him. “Absolutely. Anything you need,” I uttered without hesitation or defiance.

“That is exactly what I like to hear. Now, we need you to use some of that Ministry and politician charm. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?” he asked before picking up my hand and kissing it.

“I’ll do anything you ask.”

Gellert looked to Queenie. “So obedient she is. I love it.”

Queenie nodded once, seeming to agree with Gellert.

“Come, my dove, we must dress you more appropriately, to reflect that you’re sharing my views now.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s my girl,” he boasted happily before leaning down to steal a kiss.

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“How is this?” Vinda asked, Gellert’s seeming right hand woman. She had brought me into one of the bedrooms, letting me try on an outfit of hers. She was full figured, not a twig by any means, and gorgeous. She had this stunning, soft beauty about her that even I envied.

“I think I like it,” I stated, looking at my reflection in the mirror. She let me have a long black skirt with a thick black shiny belt, topping it off with a coat that served as both my shirt and jacket. The jacket was velvet, black, empowering. I rather liked the sleek, long lines it gave my form. I was always fond of long styled garments, wearing calf length coats. This was floor length, not my usual style, yet it was absolutely flattering.

“Good. I believe I am to take you shopping tomorrow,” she informed with a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” I softly said.

“My pleasure. Grindelwald would like to speak to you now,” she explained and I nodded.

She led me through the home and we ended up in a small sitting room near the kitchen. As soon as she got me situated across from him, she left, closing the door behind her. We were alone, for the first time since I’d met him.

“Rosaline,” he began, staring at me with eyes in awe.

“Gellert,” I greeted.

“I would like to share with you my vision,” he continued, rubbing his hands slightly as they sat on the table, his gaze dropping down.

“Please,” I urged gently.

“It is my belief that many of the wizarding community think I hate the non-magical.”

“You don’t?” I wondered, recalling such thoughts myself.

He shook his head, making a face of slight disappointment. “No, no. No I simply want the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy abolished. That’s all. I don’t want to hurt the non-magical. I only want us to be free. For us to love freely, show our magic freely… Is that so wrong?”

I bobbed my head side to side. “No, I don’t think so.”

A side smile crept up on his face. “That’s good. I’m glad. Would you help me in this endeavor?”

“What would you need me to do?” I wondered, curious.

“Do you still have your connections at the Ministry?”

“Absolutely.”

“I may need you to get inside the heads of a few important people there. Help to spread our message, get the word out. Make people understand that they have my ideas all wrong. Do you think you could do that?”

A quick grin spread on my face. “Yes!”

“Delightful. I will give you the names of the people I would like you to sway. Meet with them how you please, but do it quickly. Time is of the essence.”

I nodded. “Yes. I understand. But… if these people you seek refuse to listen, shall I kill them?”

He seemed to choke on air before shaking his head. “No, no. There is no point for violence, sweetheart. No. If they do not listen, perhaps an Imperius curse?”

“Easy enough.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Anything else?”

“Would you care to join me for dinner? I’d very much like to discuss something else with you.”

“I’d be honored.”

He stood, kissing the top of my head. “It’s a date then. I will see you tonight, seven o’clock, here. Vinda will give you the names, make quick work, Rosaline. I’m counting on you.”

“I won’t let you down, Gellert.”

He smiled at me, his hand on the door as it opened. “I know you won’t. That’s why I chose you.”

--------------------------

We were now at Nurmengard Castle, with myself and Gellert in the library. I believe he was studying spells while I was going over potions. He sat across the table from me in the expansive room, kept warm by a roaring fire, staring at me.

“Something on your mind, Gellert?” I questioned with a coy smile, not raising my eyes from the book.

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward. “I must confess, I find myself puzzled by you. Your past. How you came to be who you are.”

I lowered my book and looked up at him. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything, I suppose. What makes you… you. You’re peculiar.”

“How so?”

“I can’t put my finger on it, but I do know I’d like to know more about you.”

I nodded. “Very well. I was orphaned at age four, taken in by my aunt and uncle, raised with my cousin Nora. She and I became close. I went to Hogwarts, became Head Girl, graduated top of my class, and went into the Ministry.” I laughed lightly. “I’m not exactly fascinating. Why do you want to know all this?”

“Because you’re very different from anyone I’ve met and I’d like to know why you are the way you are.” He frowned at me for a moment. “Why aren’t you married? Someone as stunning, bright, and successful as you surely had many suitors. “

Again, a gentle chuckle came out me. “Well to be quite frank, in school, I only wanted to focus on school. I just wanted to be the best witch I could be. Then I graduated and my job became my priority, thankfully, because it gained me a spot to be the next Minister.”

“And you didn’t go through with that? You had started your campaign, but you stopped -- why?”

I shrugged slightly. “I just… I wasn’t making a difference in the world, not really. I was capturing people who had done something wrong, but I didn’t really know their story. I didn’t get a chance to be a judge, just a person to help take the person to their sentencing. I just wanted to feel passionate and feel involved.”

“Is that when you sought out the Scamander boy?”

I shook my head. “No, actually, I was looking for any sort of fulfilling work, Newt just happened to be looking for an assistant.”

An eyebrow perched up. “I don’t see you being an assistant to someone like him. You’re far above him. Did you like the work?”

“I did,” I nodded. “Working with those creatures was so inspiring. I think in a way, they humbled me, a little.”

“A woman like you, of your talent should never be humbled, or anyone’s assistant.”

I blushed, looking down for a moment. “Thank you, Gellert. That’s kind of you.”

“Do you miss your cousin, your family?”

I frowned, thinking for a moment. That was an odd question to me, for some reason. “I...I don’t think so. No. I have you.” I looked up at him with renewed sparkle in my eyes.

He smiled fondly. “That’s good to hear. And Newt? I know you had feelings for him. Do you miss him?”

I shook my head, squaring my shoulders as my chin jutted towards the ceiling. “No. He’s in love with a witch from America and clearly I wasn’t good enough for him, so he’s not good enough for me.”

“Wise woman,” he commended with a coy side grin. “I really do admire that about you.”

“Thank you. Did I answer your questions?” I asked, hopeful that I satisfied all his curiosities.

“Yes, you did. Go back to your reading, my love.”

I smiled and did as he told.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the softest fire #newt scamander #newt scamander fic #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander x oc

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debra2007-blog · 4 years

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The Truth About Halloween!!! October 31, 2020 VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT! Help me with operation armor of light.

ITS NOT ALL SAINTS DAY - IT NEVER WAS! something big is brewing! Share this with as many people as possible!

I may lose some friends over this but I am going to continue posting this up until Halloween. I will be obedient to the Lord no matter what, no matter what friends I lose. Last year Oct, 2016 the Lord placed heavy on my heart that spiritual warfare is going to increase, and this year He is placing it again. Only this time its being placed as preparing for war like never before.

Spiritual warfare is going to extremely increase. It has to do with this month; this is the most unholy day of the year out of two known unholy days, the occult celebrates with rituals. Be Forewarned!

The darkness of Halloween goes back to the druids, stone hedge; and has been around 2,000+ years ago. October 31st we call Halloween which is really the eve of samhain (lord of the dead). There are four Holidays the witches, warlocks, and druids; all that do the "craft" really is the occult. But the big "holiday" they all look for is the eve of samhain (halloween).

By the way the word Holiday came from Holy day. What the druids, and witches do is call upon samhian, the "lord" of the dead and call up spirits of the wicked which are nothing more than demons that roam about. Then the druids would go to the towns and pick out houses and tell them by mid-night, you give them a virgin (male or female/baby or child) for them to give to samhian, for them to sacrifice to samhian.

They did this so they will have a "good" year of cattle, crops and so on. Then they would carve out a PUMPKIN and put a "candle" of human fat in it leaving it in front of the house on the steps or at the front of the door. When the druids came back to the house if there was not a virgin there known as the TREAT, the house then would get a TRICK. The TRICK was the druids using human blood drawing a hexagram on the door of the home. Within three days time if a TREAT (virgin human sacrifice) was not given that family of the home or a member would die. If the druids took the TREAT (virgin human sacrifice) and where pleased with it, they would light the human fat candle so the face carved in the PUMPKIN would light up, and the demons would pass by that house and not kill them. DO NOT DRESS UP OR DRESS YOUR KIDS UP IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THEY ARE A FROG- DO NOT PARTAKE IN ANY OF IT! The druids DRESSED UP in scary, goulash outfits (costumes) entertain the spirits (demons) called up months before the eve of samhain, so they can partake in the evening. Do you do the bobbing for apples thing? So did they back then. If you could with one try get the apple out of the water (which by the way is boiling water) you would live a mangled life. If not, you would be murdered right there. Do you have a cardboard cut out of cute little witches with their "cone of power" pointed hat (meaning craft practice) with their little broom?

You can find witches on the eve of samhain drawing a pentagram in full, and taking their brooms and going around in circles inside of it. The witches broom represents spirit travel, going one place to another. How about the cardboard cut out of skeletons? Guess what witches and druid do. They lay upon graves, or take the bones of the dead because they receive power from them. Bonfire came from the bone-fires, because of the piles of bones from the many the druids and witches sacrificed.

The card board cut-outs of the ghost and goblins, go back up to where trick or treat came from. They are the demons that roam around. If you have cardboard cut outs of these things or the 3D objects of these things, you are inviting evil to your home, and celebrating the biggest druid/witch/satanist holy day of the year. If you think the things you learned about are not happening today, go look at the police reports in your cities paper last year on November first. Look for: animal shelters broken into, animals missing, children missing, graves robbed, animals found dead/slaughter, murdered bodies. Look at the amount of crimes and violent reports that happen on the day of and night of "salloween" "halloween" "eve of samhain" whatever you want to call it. It is thee "holy" day for satan, the day he is praised/worshiped the most and sacrifice is given to him; evil is at its peek. My brother and sister in Christ, if you serve and love the Lord don't take any part in this unholy day, and do not let your kids. Share this with family and friends. Those who don't pay mind to this and choose to perform the rituals of this unholy day and allow their child to, I pray the Lord protects your home and family in the mighty name of Jesus Christ the King of Kings, the messiah, our Savior! Amen

This is a day we need to pray for those that partake in these rituals unknowing (or knowing) what they are doing. That they are allowing their children to do. Or going out and exposing this truth, and witnessing to people. Halloween has never been a christian holy day celebration! It has always been from satan himself, and his worshipers. This honestly could date back to babylon ; Deuteronomy 18:10-12. I can't make you-not partake in this celebration (rituals) all I can do is warn you- don't have anything to do with it I do this out of love, with what God has placed on my heart: spiritual warfare is going to increase big time like demonic oppression, maybe into the two forms we rarely have seen demonic possession, and demonic infestation of ones home. This no joke!

One of the ways satan attacks, is he goes after families. He goes after the father/mother; once he has them- he brings down the house. Once he has a house-he takes a neighborhood. Once he takes a neighborhood-he eventually takes a city/town. Once he takes the towns/city's- he takes a state. Once he takes a state- he eventually takes a country. I tell you this because, celebrating something like this (the rituals) maybe the one thing satan needs to break the walls of your home. Stayed armored up (Ephesians 6:10-18) and fight this battle with the sword (Gods word aka The Holy Bible) and in prayer!

Remember this: Even though you may not be practicing these rituals as being in the occults, its the same rituals done differently- and it means the same thing. Keep your kids home!

When you enter the land that God, your God, is giving you, don't take on the abominable ways of life of the nations there. Don't you dare sacrifice your son or daughter in the fire. Don't practice divination, sorcery, fortune telling, witchery, casting spells, holding séances, or channeling with the dead. People who do these things are an abomination to God. It’s because of just such abominable practices that God, your God, is driving these nations out before you.

Watch all these youtube videos. Even though I am not a Jehovah witness, this person sheds some light on the roots of halloween.

The truth about Halloween http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NP4P9EiJBY

This is honestly the best one! HALLOWEEN EXPOSED http://youtu.be/28iTm0ZnAXQ keep in mind Deuteronomy takes place in the time of babylon.

Watch all parts- this is the first one. The Truth about Halloween Part 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_XBszdp9d2E The Truth About Halloween part 2 https://youtu.be/OLcNY7IDOTM The Truth About Halloween Part 3 https://youtu.be/sS3QPMuvlkY The Truth About Halloween Part 4 https://youtu.be/v3sWYNTh1jw

YOU SHOULD KNOW THE TRUTH AND THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE!!

Have a blessed day and weekend. May Yeshua the Messiah bless you, Love, Debbie

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endeavorsreward · 4 years

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The Soldier and the Dragon (Pt 1)

[In honor of FFVIIR, a tale of Cloud and Ivalice; excerpted from the adaptation project as always. To be released in parts as they’re completed.]

The Felmarian Highlands stretched from the Limberry border to just south of Lesalia and as far west as Mount Bervenia; it was believed that Mesa, the Hero King, established his great city in the shadow of those mountains for their protection in the wake of the great Cataclysm, and as Lesalia grew, the range served always as a protective bulwark for Ivalice’s royal seat. It was from these mountains that the Zeirchele found its origin, and it was said that they offered some of the richest, most beautiful views in all the continent. But the weather at their altitude could be quite perilous—indeed, the southeastern end of the range suffered nearly year-’round snowstorms, which funneled most travelers of the Highlands through the low, bowl-cut valley pass that fed towards Dorter, a circuitous path wide enough for heavy caravans but one which added days to the journey, hemmed in by tall rock faces until they were desposited out nearly in the Zeklaus.

There was, however, a second path. More precarious and thus less traveled, some ways north from Germonique’s Crossing there was a steep slope cut into the mountains that wound halfway up one of the lower peaks before smoothing into a plateau where the rock had been cracked open to allow passage. It was recommended that one only travel the path on birdback, and even then on a greenfeather if you could find one, due to the uneven traversal, and only during calmer weather.

There were four chocobo on that path now, three with paired riders and a fourth laden with gear. They were not greens, however, but pure blackfeather birds, though surprisingly docile; despite their usual station as warbirds, these four seemed to navigate the narrow ridgeline as though they were well-practiced, keeping sure footing the whole climb. The six hume travelers were all in hooded cloaks, layered tunics, and other accoutrement for the cold, but thus far the break in the storms had held.

When the path leveled out, and the rock provided a windbreak, the riders disembarked; the shortest of them opened their cloak slightly to reveal an infant grasping for her collar, well and warm. Another, who moved at a hunch, brushed down the birds as they got some needed rest after the climb.

The band’s leader and his passenger lowered their hoods to reveal Ramza Beoulve and Mustadio Bunansa, their breaths visible and clouding about their faces.

“I told you.” Ramza offered his friend a wry grin.

“When you’re right, you’re right.” Mustadio shook his head. “I owe you five gil. A gentleman always pays his wagers.”

Ramza scrunched up his face. “Am I now to take you for a gentleman?”

“I like to think that the Bunansa name carries with it a certain charm and gentility, yes.” Mustadio grinned, flipping the gilcoin at his friend, who had to throw up his hands to catch it.

“You have that fusil oil you use on the end of your nose.”

Mustadio ignored him, instead walking over to slap the back of the man who was tending to the birds. “Credit where it’s due, my friend, I didn’t think Boco’s unruly progeny could be tamed, yet here we are, freezing to death as we ought.”

Cloud Strife turned to regard Mustadio, his unearthly blue eyes all but glowing from within the shadowed hood. “They just seem to listen to me.”

Mustadio pointed to an errant spike of hair protruding from Cloud’s hood. “I dare say they mistake your plumage for one of their own.”

“Don’t tease him.” Rem Tokimiya sneezed and rubbed at her face with her sleeve. “He’s done ever so well today, he has.”

“Indeed.” Ramza walked over to where Cuthbert and Nicholina were bobbing their child. “How does the little one fare?”

“Just fine.” Cuthbert grinned. “He’s stronger than all of us together.”

Ramza’s face softened. “I’ve no doubt.” He stretched his arms, and then his back, working the kinks out from the day’s ride. The chocobo had held up far better than even he had expected, but even a smooth ride up a mountain face was still just that. “Shall we break for lunch, or travel on?”

Nicholina’s wide-brimmed wizard hat shook back and forth. “From here, the journey is no more than two hours, perhaps three.”

“I know I’d as soon have tables and chairs,” offered Mustadio.

“Mayhap you are of the nobility after all,” Ramza said, to be rewarded with his friend attempting a playful open-handed jab at his ribs.

Cuthbert cleared his throat. “As well, I’d sooner not continue gazing at the miracle.”

“Ah.” And Ramza turned back towards their destination, where the plateau met the mountainside, and a fissure lay open, as though the peak itself had been rent in twain by a blade even larger than Cloud’s gigantic materia blade.

It was said that in the time of the Zodiac Braves, they did travel this mountain pass and come upon the mountain peak as an obstacle; loyal Balias, truest of the Braves, was empowered in his love for Ajora Glabados and split the peak with his bare hand so that they might cross. Ever after, it was said no door or bar could stand before him. The story was apocryphal; not a one of them could ever remember an abuna or confessor citing the tale, and it was not in the scriptures. But after they things they’d already seen, the event now felt less implausible.

“A point well-considered,” Mustadio muttered, pulling his hood back up.

To pass between the riven stone of Splitcrag Pass, they walked their birds. Though in truth they could pass three at a time shoulder-to-shoulder without touching, it felt claustrophobic—once they were between the jutting formations, a sort of optical illusion left them feeling like they tipped instead towards each other, threatening to collapse on top of them. It was perhaps thirty minutes before they were completely clear of the pass, and mounted again; Ramza let Cuthbert and Nicholina take the lead, as she knew the path from here the best.

On the opposite side of Splitcrag Pass, the road was far more traversible; the stone—and later, dirt—had been well worn-down by travelers, and so the birds felt comfortable increasing their pace. Blackbirds loved to run, so they let them kick up some snow as the sloping pathway led into the first clusters of trees they’d seen since ascending from Araguay and the Falls. They were leafless, but they were signs of life, and spirits were buoyed as their path met at last the road from the valley.

It had been safer to take the steep route; Agrias had taken her own contingent west, and Osric’s was to split from her before Dorter; all of them were trying to stay off the main roads. Ramza had volunteered to take the northern route for the child’s sake; Nicholina and Cuthbert would not be swayed from her first trip home since the day she’d been taken to the Akademy.

They’d come once more to the Mining Town of Gollund.

***

As they rode down to archway at the town’s entrance, formed from iron rods and piping, where the road gained cobbles and smoothed, Mustadio shivered.

“Do you have need of further heat?” Nicholina’s hand was alight with a soft magick torchfire; she’d been casting intermittently, keeping her hands warm for her child.

“If I wanted to catch flame, I’d experiment with my powders again.” Mustadio shook his head, looking back to where Rem had a similar light dancing in the mountain air—her head was turned away as she let out a damp cough. “Thank goodness you no longer wear the clothes in which we found you!”

“Those are a unifo--” she was brought up short as Cloud suddenly halted their chocobo midstride. “Whoa!” He evidenced no sign of having heard her, swinging one leg over the bird’s lowered neck and hopping to the ground—his eyes fixed on the town before them.

“...I am home,” Nicholina whispered with a strange mix of awe and sadness.

Cloud walked off without a word.

“Cloud!” Ramza hissed. “Don’t wander off!”

“So much for good behavior,” Mustadio sighed as he also climbed free and followed.

Ramza spurred his chocobo forward at a gentle lope. It had been a long while since he’d last come to Gollund; it had been after Lionel, after the group had reformed, when he’d met Orran Durai on the way to Lesalia. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. He’d not had much chance to explore the town, then.

The Highlands have been the primary source of coal for all of Ivalice for as long as anyone could recall; while oil was becoming a more popular source for heating—for non-magickal heating—in recent years, the kingdom certainly still went through enough of it that Gollund, the largest mining town west of Zelmonia, was a vibrant place, and populous enough as well, given the harsh clime. But it was not a wealthy one. Most of the homes here were “modest” and “humble,” which were words that Ramza had once been taught to use in place of “poor.” The town center was only a spare few buildings—an inn, a market, a couple of homes—in a loose ring around a wooden structure that held the town’s sole water reservoir, which put him in mind of nothing so much as tales of Ajora’s well. It was there that Ramza found Cloud, staring at the water tower with one hand over his shoulder, on the hilt of his blade.

Mustadio had caught up to him, and was attempting to reason with the mysterious swordsman from another world... and attempt which seemed to fail, as Cloud turned and stalked off. “What has happened?”

“He’s in a state.” Mustadio shrugged. “I’m not certain what prompted—hey!” Ramza turned to follow Mustadio’s gaze only to see Cloud throw open the door of one of the houses and enter it.

Cuthbert came up alongside him. “What is he doing?”

“I don’t know.” Ramza waved him off. “We needn’t cause more of a scene than we are already. Take Rem and your family and rent us some rooms, we’ll corral him.” And he followed behind Mustadio into the house.

It was a small cottage, smaller even than the one where they’d holed up during the lost year; there was a wooden table meant to seat four in the center of the space, and he could see a trio of beds off to one far side, an old kettle on the coal stove, a few sprigs of flowers hung on one wall. The only resident, an old woman, was backing away from Cloud in terror, shaking her head.

“I lived in this house until I was fourteen,” he mumbled. “But it all burned down.”

“How could you say such things?” She cowered. “Are you sick?”

“Cloud!” Ramza used his battle voice, the commander voice, the shout that drove their company, and Cloud stiffened to attention.

“Sorry grandmother,” Mustadio whispered as he slowly, gently placed his hands on Cloud’s shoulders. “It was the war, you know?”

Her face softened, though her scowl remained. “Leave my home.”

Cloud let himself be eased back out of the house. Ramza took some gil from his purse and left it on the table, not even looking to see if she accepted.

Outside, Mustadio leaning in, trying to meet him eye to eye. “You can’t just enter someone’s home, yeah?”

“Cloud, you came to us through the orrery.” Ramza endeavored to keep his voice even. If they attracted that sort of attention for long, someone would recognize him for a heretic. “How could you have lived in that cottage as a boy?”

“The Zeno Gias...” Cloud rubbed at his eyes. “I do remember. North of here, the Promised Land.”

Mustadio frowned. “You mean Lesalia?” He looked to Ramza. “Now he thinks he’s King Mesa.”

“Let’s go, Cloud.” He led the man gently towards the inn.

***

The midday meal consisted of a hearty beef stew, and the first fresh bread they’d had in at least a week. Mustadio had a single tankard of warm mead; the rest had water.

When they’d rejoined the group at the inn, they’d rented two rooms, settled in, and had begun to ask Rem why she’d grown so quiet. Ramza had guided Cloud into a chair; he’d looked to the stairs leading to their rooms and pulled Ramza close.

“They’re missing a bed,” he hissed. Ramza gave his shoulder a pat and sat down beside him.

“I suppose it reminds me of my own hometown...” Rem dragged her spoon idly around her bowl. “Machina and I grew up there together.”

“That’s the boy you’ve talked about, right?” Cuthbert dabbed at his mouth. “I hadn’t realized you’d known him for that long.”

“Oh, yes.” Rem smiled sadly. “One day, the army of the White Tiger came... he and I hid together...” She closed her eyes. “He always promised to protect me, he did, even then...” She opened them. “They burnt it all down... there was nothing left.”

Cloud’s face twitched.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like.” Cuthbert looked at his child, dozing in Nicholina’s arms. “No doubt it was the same for Dorothea... you’re strong, to keep going, with those memories.”

“Oh...” She laughed bitterly. “I don’t remember any of them, from back then... just Machina.” She shrugged. “I can’t remember them. At times, it’s like it... it never happened.”

Cloud sucked in on his teeth.

“So,” Mustadio offered after a suitably respectful pause, in which everyone focused on their meal, “what transpires next? We drop off the happy family?”

“I shall be pleased to introduce you,” Nicholina nodded. “Did you see the larger manor towards the back of town? That is my home.”

Cloud began to sweat.

“I shall not be joining you.” Ramza pushed his empty bowl forward. “With the greatest of respects, Nicholina, it is better I keep my distance from your family.”

“Ramza, you are our family.” Cuthbert scowled.

“And that means more than I can say, Cuthbert, truly, but you understand my perspective.” Ramza sighed. “Nicholina’s father need not know of a heretic, lest he be accused of harboring one. It’s quite all right. I shall take this opportunity to visit the tavern; it would be to our benefit to know what word is traveling northward.”

Rem leaned in towards Nicholina. “Are you nervous?”

“No.” She bobbed her child. “Whatever transpires, I am not the child that lived here any longer. I am what was made of me.”

#Excerpts

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last-of-the-lot · 5 years

Text

So I kind of wrote a rhyme that the children of Driftwood Asylum could have come up with that tells a new kid what the place is like without using words. (Cause let’s be honest, that place wasn’t a normal orphanage.) It started simple, then the pesky thing wanted to include feelings and pissed off gods. I’m actually quite proud of this. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Driftwood, driftwood floating in the sea,

darkened and spotted with no use to me.

Driftwood, driftwood, floating in the bay,

isn’t it sweet you think you get a say?

Driftwood, driftwood, floating in the sea,

salted with cracks that no one can see.

Driftwood, driftwood, bobbing in the tide,

we will fix you up so you fill us with pride.

Driftwood, driftwood, crumbling into the sea,

come to us, we will set you free.

Remember that rhyme? That sad little song? Even in that, you didn't belong. The children questioned and stared, you were interesting despite the dispair. Falling into the depths was never the plan. There were no questions when you woke up on dry land. The days of the past are littered with scars. Turn your back, just look at the stars. The sword you were giving almost pierced your heart. Don’t think that it sets you apart. You are still just driftwood, with no real home. Still lost, floating through the sea foam. Do you count them as friends? Are they true? Can you trust them with yourself? Can they even trust you?

Yes. They can trust me. I am not your pawn, I am not lost at sea. That sword was tainted, so I threw it away. The words you have now hold no power over me. I am not driftwood, I am not lost. I will stand strong and protect at all cost. I am not haunted by the scars I still bear. I remember them, process, and get ready to face the dragon's lair.

I am not driftwood, I hear what you say. But I found a family, and they are here to stay. We were pushed together, maybe by the tide, but not by you. So sit there and pretend to be biding your time.

We have a wizard that is broken, that much is true. But he is learning to act like a greater man than any I knew. From the flames of the past, something will rise, and I will be standing right by his side.

We have a monk with a heart made of stone and a personality to match. She breaks off her heart and gives to those who are alone. The personality is something we wouldn’t fix. It helps sometimes to have someone who knows all the tricks.

We have a rouge who is kind, and loyal to a fault. She hates the water and losing herself. She doesn’t steal from happy people, but that comes from someone else. With ideas running rampant and flask that never runs dry, you can always count on her to have a plan on the fly.

We have two clerics, one that is pink and one that is blue. Both are an enigma, yes both of those two.

The pink cleric is quiet, silent but known. He spent some time isolated and alone. It might have affected him, we don’t know. But he was welcomed along and he went with the flow.

The blue cleric is chipper, with happiness too spare. Every day she talks and she laughs, but sometimes I worry those will come to pass. She draws to her god, who unlike you, is caring and kind and teaches her things and won’t just throw her away cause she tries something new.

We had- no have a barbarian that has been lost. But we all know things come with a cost. The lost angel collected flowers for no one we knew, but it helped her more than anyone from our crew.

We had another that was part of this group. One that was kind and wanted to make people smile. He has been lost to us for a while. They taught us a lot, and a hard lesson was learned. We now watch each other and don’t get burned.

I am not driftwood. I am not alone. No one is laughing and singing a song. My so-called friend isn’t singing along.

We are not driftwood. This small group of ours. We are stronger than the sum of our parts. We shall weather together, whatever comes next.

#critical role #cr fjord #the mighty nein #cr campaign 2 #writing #poetry #I guess??#I honestly don't know how to tag this

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alcoholicseraphim · 7 years

Text

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Seventeen- Year III- Selwyn Sojourn

Hermione was already awake when Vici came to fetch her. The afternoon was gone, and apparently they were well into the evening.

Vici glared at Hermione's robes, pulling open the wardrobe and revealing a rack of dainty lady's day robes. Hermione frowned. She'd checked every bit of furniture in the room an hour before and there had been nothing.

"Missy will wear this one," the house elf announced. She held out a lacy white monstrosity and inspected both the robes and Hermione. "Mistress wants Missy pretty for dinner. Vici will help."

Hermione doubted that "pretty" was the right word to use, especially when describing that hunk of fabric, but she allowed Vici to undress her and dress her again in the robes. In the meantime she pondered the wardrobe. It was obvious that this room was spelled to be childproof, and that apparently included the restriction of everything except, presumably, toys. Did they mean to send someone to help her every time she was to be dressed, or washed? Testing the door had proven that it was impossible to open from the inside, and Hermione didn't have the magic to waste on something as silly as opening her bedroom door every time she wanted to leave.

"Vici?" she asked, wincing as a bit of starched cloth scraped against the scar on her chest. "Why are there childproofing spells still on this room?"

Vici did not respond, instead Summoning a hairbrush into existence and pulling it through her still-straightened hair.

Hermione sighed. "Shall I guess, then?" When her query was met with silence again Hermione continued, "There are several reasons that could be, as I see it. The first is that no one remembered to take them down-"

"Yes, Missy," Vici interrupted. "Spells be removed when Mistress has time." A ribbon appeared from nowhere and the house elf tied it into Hermione's hair.

She didn't believe Vici for a single moment. Childproofing spells were intentionally simple, easy to add and easy to remove. Unless, of course, they'd used stronger versions such as those found in wizarding daycares. It would be a matter of minutes to completely strip the room, allowing a fifteen-year-old girl her freedom. She opened her mouth to tell Vici so, but the sight of her pinched, terrified face stopped her. "Okay," she said instead. Vici wasn't the right person to have this argument with.

Instantly the house elf's face relaxed. She put her tiny hand in Hermione's and whisked them both away.

The dining room was unnecessarily large for only three people. Rhea and Morfan were already seated, Rhea at Morfan's right side at the head of the table.

Hermione hadn't noticed that Vici had put shoes on her until she took a step forward and didn't feel the smooth cold of the marble floor. "Thank you, Vici," she said belatedly. Vici beamed and bobbed a curtsy before Disapparating.

"How kind of you to join us," Rhea said, matching every stereotype of the catty stepmother.

Hermione wanted to scowl, but she smiled as graciously as she could manage and scurried across the length of the dining hall to get to the seat on Morfan's left.

Rhea examined her the whole way and continued to scrutinize her even after she'd sat. "We have quite a bit of work to do," she said finally.

"Pardon me, ma'am?" Hermione hummed, staring down at the floral china plate in front of her.

"You're not very smart, are you? We need an heir, and while a boy would have been preferable, a girl will do almost as well, provided you make the right choice in marriage." Rhea tapped one fingernail on the table and a posse of house elves appeared, each bearing a covered dish.

Hermione took a deep breath. She'd anticipated something like this. The spells were an attempt to make her dependent on the Selwyns in even the most simple of things. It did make sense, in a way. If she couldn't even dress herself or leave her room on her own, how would she, a child, be in a position to resist the whims of her new guardians? She sat up straighter and gazed at her foster mother even as the house elves measured out bits of every dish onto her plate.

"Do allow me to be candid, Mrs Selwyn," she began. "We appear to have a few misunderstandings. Conflict is to be expected in any new living arrangement, especially where children are involved. However," she picked up a fork and stabbed into a tiny cube of rosemary chicken, "we will have to come to an agreement."

Rhea also began to eat, slicing up her own portion of the chicken. "Go on," she said. Her voice was calm, but her expression was a warning.

Hermione recognized the warning- how could she not?- but she went on anyway. "There are several things that I'm willing to compromise on or even concede. Some things, however, are unacceptable." She gestured up to her hair, keeping her expression even with difficulty. "I am black. I was born this way, and I am both unable and unwilling to change that fact. I like my hair. I like my skin. Attempts to change anything about my appearance without my express permission will absolutely not be tolerated."

Morfan wasn't eating at all, Hermione noticed. He watched his wife and his foster daughter with glittering, amused eyes.

"Is that all?" said Rhea, a statement rather than a question.

"I'm afraid not," said Hermione. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you've simply forgotten to take down the childproofing spells on the room I'm staying in. If it was just an honest mistake, then please just take them down as soon as possible."

Rhea, to her credit, didn't immediately shoot her down. "And your concessions?" she prompted, her tone as one to a small, demanding child.

"I have no objections with being the perfect Selwyn heir, up to and including marrying whomever you deem fit," she said. Something relaxed in Rhea's expression, and Hermione knew that she'd won. Perhaps not so easily, but the outcome had been decided and it wouldn't be too difficult to whittle Rhea down to compliance.

Rhea didn't respond verbally, and the remainder of the meal was passed in near-silence.

As disagreeable as she was to the majority of Hermione's demands, she did send Vici to wash her hair back to normal. It was probably a pick-your-battles kind of thing, but it was progress. Besides, Hermione didn't appreciate someone interfering with her personal things.

*|II8II|*

"I would like to go to Hogwarts," Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. The familiar weight of her hair once again formed a cloud around her head, and her good humour had returned with it.

"Why would you want that?" asked Rhea, appearing genuinely confused.

Hermione let her face fall a bit, and widened her eyes so they would appear shinier, cognizant of how excessive her acting was for the situation. "I need to be around people for a little while, somewhere I know I'll be safe."

Morfan snorted into his eggs and both women ignored him.

"It's safe here," Rhea argued. "The fewer people there are, the safer it is. Would you really feel safe sleeping in a room with strangers every night?"

"Yes," said Hermione without pause. "My family was attacked in our home in the middle of the night. That could never happen at Hogwarts. Never."

Rhea shook her head, and Hermione noticed all at once that her prim updo was ice-rigid. "It's not the same thing, Genevieve. We are not an obscure name or branch; we have money and power. With money and power come protection. This house has the strongest wards on the market. No one will be able to get in without an invitation."

"But Hogwarts has the strongest wards. Any wizard school does, of course, but Hogwarts is renowned for them. I want to be there. I want to go where You-Know-Who is afraid to attack." Hermione choked on that last sentence, unwillingly and vividly recalling Voldemort's invasion two years before in her personal timeline. This time she would not give him a reason or a method, she vowed.

"Are you all right?" Rhea asked, setting down her fork. When Hermione looked up at her concerned expression, she realized that her fury had seeped into her face.

"Yes, for now. But staying in here all day, every day, is sure to drive me mad with paranoia. I'm already starting down that path. Every little noise is an assassin come to torture me again, you see. If I were at Hogwarts, I would be surrounded by witnesses at all times. There would be no place for privacy, and that's a good thing. Besides that, I'll be keeping my mind busy with schoolwork."

"You can do that here," Rhea pointed out.

"I could, but what about everything else? It will take me time to heal, ma'am. I won't be marrying right away, and who would want a nervous wreck for a wife?"

Rhea's mouth twitched into a frown. "We'll hire a mind healer," she said.

"Mrs Selwyn, I don't think you understand. I've decided that this is what I want. It's the best place for me to readjust to life in society. Keeping me hidden away will accomplish nothing." Hermione leaned forward, gazing directly into Rhea's eyes and pushing.

"We never said we planned on hiding you away," Rhea said, facial muscles twitching again.

"You didn't have to," Hermione said, pushing harder.

Rhea's whole body jumped, and her eyes glazed over for just an instant. It was enough. "You make some very good points," Rhea admitted. "You may go to Hogwarts."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hermione returned, grace coming easily with the euphoria of triumph.

Morfan now looked more confused than entertained, eyes bouncing back and forth between the women on either side of him.

Hermione scooped up the last runny bit of her eggs benedict, struggling to look innocent.

She hadn't tried Hybrid Legilimency since her experiment in Azkaban, and she had none of the justifications that she'd had then. Hermione wasted a moment trying to decide whether she felt any guilt at all, but none came. She knew that she was taking away another human being's free will, she knew that it was no better than Imperiusing her, but she couldn't bring herself to feel badly about it.

Rhea was stubborn, but clearly untrained in the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency. It was a shame, from a purely magical standpoint, because she would have been a natural at it. She'd already developed some shoddy mental shields, which, coupled with Hermione's lack of experience, made it more difficult to influence her. For a moment Hermione had believed that it wouldn't work, and she'd rarely been so delighted to be wrong. A person's first experience with Legilimency often set the stage for every time after that, at least as far as getting inside the mind went. Following that logic, Rhea would now be easier to influence.

Hermione thought about going to her room and scowled. Vici had had to fetch her again that morning, and no one seemed to have any intention to take down the childproofing charms.

"Oh, and Mrs Selwyn?" she chirped. Rhea turned on instinct, and Hermione took advantage of that reaction to capture her attention. "I would love it if those spells on my room were taken care of."

It was a battle of wills, now even more than before. Rhea didn't plan to budge on that point, and Hermione would not accept any answer besides "yes". Genevieve wouldn't take advantage of you, she whispered to Rhea's mind, and felt her barriers relax just slightly. She would have to go gently. Battering through would make her methods far too obvious, and would ruin Rhea besides.

"We'll see," said Rhea, ripping her eyes away from Hermione's. Hermione wanted to scream her fury, but she held it in.

"Of course, Mrs Selwyn," she growled, and swept away. She wouldn't go to her room just yet, not until she was forced to. She would explore the manor on her own and think up a better plan.

A part of her expected Rhea to call after her, but there was nothing. Hermione knew the reason. She'd felt it in Rhea's mind. Rhea was terrified, and had no idea why.

It took her four hallways before she could calm down.

The architectural design was becoming increasingly apparent. The house, while not horribly large, was designed to be a nightmare to navigate. Hermione wished she'd had the foresight to find a quill and parchment in order to sketch out each room's relative location, but she hadn't and she would have to deal with it. She could hardly summon the focus needed to undertake such a large task, anyway. After a moment she looked around to find herself in a completely unfamiliar room, with no way to get back. That was exactly her intention, as it happened, and so she marched on, determined to lose herself even more thoroughly within the labyrinth of Selwyn Manor, and in the meantime she surrendered to thought.

She did want to go back to Hogwarts, in the way that she knew she could do very little from within this house. She wanted to make up with Aberforth and collect Echo again. Her urge to see friendly faces again was shadowed by the dread that came whenever she even thought about her old Gryffindor friends. Starting over again from square one was exhausting, and Hermione had no idea where to even begin. And she would find the strength, somehow, despite everything the universe threw at her.

A dark certainty spread throughout her leaden body beginning in her gut. She wouldn't succeed this year, either. There was just too much time wasted, too little faculties to work with, too little allies. This year would be a year to heal herself as best as she could. Maybe... Maybe going back to Hogwarts wasn't the healthiest option. Maybe it would be best to stay here and learn how to be a proper pureblood, to gain connections with the elite. Maybe...

A whole year, wasted. Could she bring herself to stand by, even knowing what she knew? Even knowing she had absolutely nothing left to lose?

Except her life, she reminded herself, and what little was left of her sanity. A broken wand serves no one. Besides, there are benefits to allowing her new guardian to win. She hadn't conducted herself very well thus far, she realized. She was supposed to be gracious and meek, a pathetic little creature who invokes pity, not her usual obstinate, fierce self. Hermione wrinkled her nose. It would be easy enough to fix, since it had only been a few hours of mistakes. And now that Hermione knew for sure she could still use active Legilimency...

Exploring could wait.

"Vici," Hermione chirped.

A snap signaled Vici's anxious arrival, and Hermione smiled. "Can Vici help Missy?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said. "Would you take me to Mrs Selwyn? My manners were inexcusable, and I want to apologize."

Vici hesitated, one ear twitching. "Mistress is busy now," she said. "But Vici take Missy to lunch and Missy will say sorry."

"That's fine. Would you please take me to my room?"

Vici nodded frantically, grabbing Hermione by the elbow and Apparating them both. House elves moved between points in space with far more ease than wizards did, and as a result Hermione felt none of the sickness that was normal for her. Before Hermione could open her mouth to thank Vici, the house elf was gone, leaving behind a vacuum that the cold air rushed to fill. A sound like thunder resonated through the melancholy nursery.

There wasn't much to do in this room. She didn't have even a pen to write with! Hermione plunked down on the bed with a self-indulgent huff, rolling the lace sleeves of yet another ridiculous robe between her fingers. It was important after her series of blunders to obey her foster mother's wishes without complaint, but now that she was stuck in her cell again she was at a loss. How could she spend her hours in isolation before Vici would fetch her for lunch? It wasn't at all that she was unable to find entertainment in the silence. It was more that she was afraid of being alone. Afraid of being unproductive. At least she was allowed meal breaks and conversation, which was far more than she'd gotten in Azkaban.

Well, Hermione thought, glancing around, she would just have to resort to Occlumency exercises in the meantime. One's mind could never be too strong.

Hermione pushed herself up with effort, resigned by now to the stiffness of joints that she couldn't relieve even with her body's perpetual youth. She propped herself against the wall, feeling her shoulder blades press into the forgiving flesh of the nursery. Even now she was busy shutting down her senses one by one. The process was simple yet un-intuitive. She surrendered the scent of clean sheets and pine to the sound of the gentle hum of the nursery's motherly lullaby first. For several moments she listened with single-minded intensity to the soothing song, and then she let it go into sight. She saw dust motes swirling in a stream of sunlight and traced the swirls in the wood. Again she looked around as if this room held the answers to every question she could conceive of, if she only paid close enough attention. And once she was satisfied, she closed her eyes and focused every bit of her attention on the sensations on her skin. The air was warm and still, the bed-sheets soft satin to her fingertips. Her robe was itchy, and the ends of her hair tickled her neck. She accepted it, discomfort and all, and withdrew into her mind.

Without the distraction of a physical body, her thoughts were free to race as they wished, and some separate, higher thought observed those smaller ones. She was well-organized, she noted with satisfaction, even if she was marked for the time being by the stutters and tangles of uncertainty and impulse. Each path wove a web, complicated yet still clearly perspicuous. The web was nearly tangible, in that mind's-eye way, and with mental fingers she caressed the silk. It was her aim now to build a fortress for that web, a fortress which was simultaneously formed with that very web. She would never run out of space or material, and so she was limited only by her own imagination.

Building mental shields while living with thousands of creatures which specialized in breaking down even the strongest of protection was... difficult, to say the least. Hermione saw without seeing the ruins and cobwebs around her. What had been built before had been largely destroyed, bit by bit, but she was pleased to note that the foundation was packed absolutely solid, so solid she could hardly separate the strands of thought from one another. If they were strong enough to withstand constant attacks from Dementors, then Hermione wouldn't dream of replacing them. She would have to build on top of it, and making the walls just as strong would take time. Time, fortunately or unfortunately, was the one thing Hermione couldn't escape from.

There was something to be said for self-introspection, for Hermione had barely created one thin wall before Vici laid a tiny, withered hand on her arm. Hermione could have stayed in her safe haven, but she could recognize that coming back to the physical world was necessary.

"Is Missy well?" Vici asked, an intolerable sadness on her face. Hermione couldn't help but to reassure her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking. Are you here to take me to lunch?"

Vici bobbed her head, and this time waited for Hermione to stand on her own and announce her readiness before Apparating them to the absurd dining room.

A few nondescript minutes later, Hermione sat across from Rhea Selwyn, nursing a glass of pumpkin juice. She cleared her throat- unpleasant memories of Dolores Umbridge surfaced, and Hermione shoved them down again- and said in a quiet voice, "Mrs Selwyn?"

"Yes, Genevieve?" Rhea said, her wariness easily visible in her expression.

"I want to apologize. My behavior last night and this morning was absolutely unacceptable. I don't know what got into me, but I can tell you right now that it will never, ever happen again." Her eyes caught Rhea's and held, taking advantage of Rhea's moment of shock to slip into her mind and nudge it. This time it was easier, for Hermione had the lay of the land now and could tell that this was what Rhea had wanted. It didn't take more than a nudge to get her to accept it at face value. What did take some exertion was the redirection of those memories which were inconvenient to Hermione's new image. They were to be forgotten- not erased, just forgotten, as if it had happened years ago and simply wasn't important enough to remember. She smudged out the memory of her insistence on attending Hogwarts, but left behind the emotional conclusion.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Rhea said gently, and it was exactly what Hermione wanted her to say.

"Mr Selwyn, how is your day? I forgot to ask at breakfast." With a radiant smile, Hermione turned her attention to Morfan and worked on fixing his mind as well.

#tybt #harry potter fanfiction #multi-chapter

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debra2007-blog · 4 years

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The Truth About Halloween!!! October 30, 2019 VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT! Help me with operation armor of light.

ITS NOT ALL SAINTS DAY - IT NEVER WAS! something big is brewing! Share this with as many people as possible!

Remember this: Even though you may not be practicing these rituals as being in the occults, its the same rituals done differently- and it means the same thing. Keep your kids home!

Deuteronomy 18:10-12 10 There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch. 11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer. 12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord: and because of these abominations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee. When you enter the land that God, your God, is giving you, don't take on the abominable ways of life of the nations there. Don't you dare sacrifice your son or daughter in the fire. Don't practice divination, sorcery, fortune telling, witchery, casting spells, holding séances, or channeling with the dead. People who do these things are an abomination to God. It’s because of just such abominable practices that God, your God, is driving these nations out before you.

Watch all these youtube videos.

Even though I am not a Jehovah witness, this person sheds some light on the roots of halloween.

The truth about Halloween http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NP4P9EiJBY

This is honestly the best one! HALLOWEEN EXPOSED http://youtu.be/28iTm0ZnAXQ keep in mind Deuteronomy takes place in the time of babylon.

YOU SHOULD KNOW THE TRUTH AND THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE!!

Have a blessed day and weekend. May Yeshua the Messiah bless you, Love, Debbie

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debra2007-blog · 6 years

Text

The Truth About Halloween!!!

October 31, 2018 VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT! Help me with operation armor of light.

ITS NOT ALL SAINTS DAY - IT NEVER WAS! something big is brewing! Share this with as many people as possible!

The darkness of Halloween goes back to the druids, stone hedge; and has been around 2,000+ years ago.

October 31st we call Halloween which is really the eve of samhain (lord of the dead). There are four Holidays the witches, warlocks, and druids; all that do the "craft" really is the occult. But the big "holiday" they all look for is the eve of samhain (halloween).

When the druids came back to the house if there was not a virgin there known as the TREAT, the house then would get a TRICK. The TRICK was the druids using human blood drawing a hexagram on the door of the home.

Within three days time if a TREAT (virgin human sacrifice) was not given that family of the home or a member would die. If the druids took the TREAT (virgin human sacrifice) and where pleased with it, they would light the human fat candle so the face carved in the PUMPKIN would light up, and the demons would pass by that house and not kill them. DO NOT DRESS UP OR DRESS YOUR KIDS UP IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THEY ARE A FROG- DO NOT PARTAKE IN ANY OF IT! The druids DRESSED UP in scary, goulash outfits (costumes) entertain the spirits (demons) called up months before the eve of samhain, so they can partake in the evening. Do you do the bobbing for apples thing? So did they back then. If you could with one try get the apple out of the water (which by the way is boiling water) you would live a mangled life. If not, you would be murdered right there. Do you have a cardboard cut out of cute little witches with their "cone of power" pointed hat (meaning craft practice) with their little broom?

This is a day we need to pray for those that partake in these rituals unknowing (or knowing) what they are doing.

That they are allowing their children to do. Or going out and exposing this truth, and witnessing to people.

Halloween has never been a christian holy day celebration! It has always been from satan himself, and his worshipers. This honestly could date back to babylon ; Deuteronomy 18:10-12. I can't make you-not partake in this celebration (rituals) all I can do is warn you- don't have anything to do with it I do this out of love, with what God has placed on my heart: spiritual warfare is going to increase big time like demonic oppression, maybe into the two forms we rarely have seen demonic possession, and demonic infestation of ones home. This no joke!

Remember this: Even though you may not be practicing these rituals as being in the occults, its the same rituals done differently- and it means the same thing. Keep your kids home!

11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer. 12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord: and because of these abominations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee.

Watch all these youtube videos.

Even though I am not a Jehovah witness, this person sheds some light on the roots of halloween.

The truth about Halloween http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NP4P9EiJBY

This is honestly the best one! HALLOWEEN EXPOSED http://youtu.be/28iTm0ZnAXQ keep in mind Deuteronomy takes place in the time of babylon.

YOU SHOULD KNOW THE TRUTH AND THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE!!

Have a blessed day and weekend. May Yeshua the Messiah bless you, Love, Debbie

0 notes

debra2007-blog · 7 years

Text

The Truth About Halloween!!!

October 30 , 2017 VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT! Help me with operation armor of light

ITS NOT ALL SAINTS DAY - IT NEVER WAS! something big is brewing! Share this with as many people as possible!

DO NOT PARTAKE IN ANY OF IT! The druids DRESSED UP in scary, goulash outfits (costumes) entertain the spirits (demons) called up months before the eve of samhain, so they can partake in the evening. Do you do the bobbing for apples thing? So did they back then. If you could with one try get the apple out of the water (which by the way is boiling water) you would live a mangled life. If not, you would be murdered right there. Do you have a cardboard cut out of cute little witches with their "cone of power" pointed hat (meaning craft practice) with their little broom?

Share this with family and friends. Those who don't pay mind to this and choose to perform the rituals of this unholy day and allow their child to, I pray the Lord protects your home and family in the mighty name of Jesus Christ the King of Kings, the messiah, our Savior! Amen