Hanahanu Reborn

"Bring him in," a voice announced. It was strong, albeit a bit concentrated in the nose. It was one that wouldn't be too out of place within his home Legion. But here? It was one of the many markers that made him so distinct from his newfound kin.

"Yes, lord," a second voice said, a figure bowing and moving from the threshold of the door that was barely cracked open. This one was firm, a bit hardened by yelling orders to his warriors, though a note of unease was easily able to be noticed. The figure was dressed in full warplate, crimson and edged in steel, with the armor itself carved and inset with symbols taken from the Book of Lorgar. Upon one pauldron sat the icon of his Legion, the Latros Sacrum, and on the other sat the icon of his Host, a bloodied handprint over a leatherbound book. The Host had no grand title or name -- few did, nowadays -- and was simply known as the 17th Host. He was bare headed, with tanned skin, black hair styled with an undercut swept to one side, and dark eyes that betrayed his worries. His name was An-Ishkur, and he had been asked to assist in the rejoining process for his brothers within the Legion.

He strode into an adjacent chamber, where a number of warriors bearing similarly-colored warplate currently sat. It was quite barren, as the newly-named Master of Possession had asked it to be, with benches lining the walls and warding sigils carved into the pale walls. The floor was a mosaic of white and black, marking out the sacred octed beneath their feet. The warriors within tried not to show their overt discomfort. Most were able to mask it well. But some were pawing at their faces, snarling with annoyance, tapping their foot, or reciting prayers and litanies under their breath. Within each one sat a creature of the Empyrean, one of the revered Neverborn. Daemons, as many called them.

"Hanahanu Elil," An-Ishkur said from the doorway. A few heads came up, and he locked eyes with the one who was destined to go next. "Your time has come, brother." The eyes looking back at him were a tawny grey tinged with amber, a testament to how much the daemon within had changed him. He was just surprised to see that Elil was able to even take his helm off -- several of the other Legionnaires could not. The face looking back was darker than his own, with the same handsome, almost patrician features found amongst most of the Legion. His hair was a short, messy crop of black that almost edged on a very dark grey. He reached a gauntleted hand up to brush some of it aside.

"We're ready," Elil said, standing. As he spoke, An-Ishkur noticed his teeth were becoming sharper. If all went well, like it seemed to with the two who had gone before, then hopefully the beast within could be quelled.

Hopefully.

An-Ishkur nodded, making a gesture and leading him to the door. The door itself was decorated and ornamented, with some more recent carvings and wards having made permanent marks within its surface.

He raised a hand to knock, before the man within impatiently said, "I know who you are and who you are with, just get him in here."

The two traded glances, and An-Ishkur shook his head before opening the door and allowing Hanahanu in first. The room still smelled of burning flesh, blood, and incense. The only other figures within the vaulted chamber was an Astartes clad in robes of red and white, followed by two smaller robed humans as he renewed the circles and prepared for his next experiment. The room was approximately fifty feet on a side, with braziers of burning incense set about ten feet apart to the duo's left and right. Towards the front of the room sat a raised dais with a lectern, and upon it sat a book bound in skin with yellowed pages. An-Ishkur suppressed a shiver as his eyes passed over the book. Something... else felt as though it brushed his consciousness as he did.

The man in robes finished speaking an invocation and finally drew himself up, turning to face the two newcomers. With the two of them arrayed in battle plate, it almost made him look smaller and slighter in comparison. He was still formidable compared to the two humans beside him. He brushed aside his sandy-colored hair, his odd sky blue eyes staring into Hanahanu. He clasped his sun-kissed hands together, a smile plain on his face.

"Well, Hanahanu Elil, it is my pleasure to formally meet you," he said. An-Ishkur had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "And a pleasure to meet your partner as well. Do they have a name?"

"Hersyaf," Hanahanu growled, his teeth half bared. He shook himself out, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. "... Hersyaf. He calls himself Hersyaf."

"Hersyaf," the man said with a nod. "I am Zikar-Sin. Formerly of the Thousand Sons, now taking the position of your new Master of Possession as the Apostle wills."

Formerly was an interesting word to use. To An-Ishkur, it was blatantly obvious that he had not entirely eschewed the ways of his old Legion, and that he still considered himself one of them.

"Do you know why I have called upon you, Hanahanu-Hersyaf?" Zikar-Sin asked.

"You want to make us more 'whole'," the warrior answered. An-Ishkur could hear the growls of the beast under the careful voice of his friend and brother. An-Ishkur looked to him, trying to hide his worry.

"Are you sure you want to volunteer? Maybe you should wait until we know it works," he had said when the sorcerer had first announced his intentions.

"An-Ishkur, we've been over this. If something isn't done, Hersyaf is just going to take over and rend us apart anyway. This can be a chance to give us true balance, rather than having this more..." Hanahanu trailed off. "... parasitic relationship we have together."

"Hopefully it won't be more than a few weeks of waiting and testing," An-Ishkur protested. He sighed. "Look, I get it. Hersyaf is getting stronger and bolder, but he's always been a bit of an arrogant blow-hard. It hasn't always been easy calming you down."

"That's the point," Hanahanu said. "This can make it so I can have more control, too. That way we both benefit, and the bond is less one-sided. I don't want to just be a vessel to feed a daemon, An-Ishkur. I am my own man, with my own thoughts and my own devotions of the Powers."

"I know, I know. I'm just worried something will go wrong."

"And if it does, I know you'll be there to take care of me." Hanahanu rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We've been side-by-side ever since we first strode the sands of Colchis as aspirants. And we've been there for each other in all other miserable exploits of ours. Remember the wine raid in Tizca?"

"Hey, that was your idea," An-Ishkur replied, finally breaking into a small smile. "But that was much different to this."

"Even though we had one of our cousins scolding us for ages afterwards?"

"Hanu, come on. I know you want to make light of this, but this is a serious decision."

"I know it is. And I know why I've made it." Hanahanu removed his hand. "It's for the benefit of us both. Even if Hersyaf is impatient and doesn't want to admit it, we spent some time discussing it and we both agreed." He offered his friend a kind smile. "But I appreciate the concern." An-Ishkur tried to smile back, but he knew it read false. His expression turned into obvious concern as his brother walked back to his own personal chambers to prepare for what was to come.

"I am indeed." The words of the sorcerer shocked him out of his memories. "I am going to make sure that both of you can co-exist in a mutually beneficial relationship. Already, two of your kinsmen have walked away as one. I can see the strife within you both." He reached up one hand, reaching towards Hanahanu. He growled and gnashed his teeth at him.

"Sorcerer," he hissed.

"Hanu," An-Ishkur said. "Please." The other warrior turned, his eyes looking unfocused for a number of moments, his face locked into a snarl. It took some effort for him to nod. An-Ishkur's concern only grew.

"Ah. Feisty one. Not an uncommon reaction," Zikar-Sin said. "Well. We should be getting started, now shouldn't we?" He turned his body and gestured to the center of a number of concentric rings. Hanahanu looked apprehensive of them, but An-Ishkur nodded his approval. Once more, there was a pause before he moved, carefully avoiding the salt and chalk that marked them out on the ground. Once he was standing, the Master of Possession made a gesture for him to sit. Hanahanu obeyed. "You may wish to put on your helm. Or don't, it's not very relevant to me," he said to An-Ishkur. An-Ishkur nodded, trying to give his brother a smile one last time.

"I'll see you on the other side, then."

"We'll be made as one," Hanahanu said with a nod. An-Ishkur took the helm at his belt and fit it over his head, taking in the new view behind his jade-colored eye lenses.

"You will be called if you are required," Zikar-Sin told him. "Close the door on the way out, don't pay attention to the whispers, blah blah blah, this is your third time hearing me say this." He made a dismissive gesture towards An-Ishkur as he moved towards the lectern. An-Ishkur was glad the helm could hide his face, so the sorcerer couldn't see his grimace and his eyeroll.

He moved back towards the entrance of the chamber, casting one last look over his shoulder at his brother as he knelt there. Once again, they locked eyes, but instead of only seeing the eyes of the man he'd known for centuries, something else looked back at him, too. With a breath, he left the room, letting the great door creak close behind him.

It was eighty minutes before they opened again.

Eighty long, torturous minutes. Eighty minutes holding a vigil at the door, one hand planted on the pommel of the chansword belted at his side. Eighty minutes left wondering if anything would go wrong, wondering if his brother would be the one to fail. He never had the control his predecessors had over his daemon -- Hersyaf was infamous for his hungers and rages, and notoriously difficult and reluctant to relinquish control -- so would this process even work?

His answer would come to him in a way he had dreaded since Hanahanu had volunteered himself for the process.

A ghastly, snarling howl erupted from the room behind him. An-Ishkur moved, drawing the chainsword as he faced the shut doors. From within he could already smell flesh cooking, and he could hear the chanting of Zikar-Sin within. He stood there, tense and waiting, for fifteen seconds.

+GET IN HERE AND HELP ME!+ a voice thundered through his mind. An-Ishkur doubled over from the force of it, clutching his helm, but he soldiered on and threw the doors open wide, his chainsword revving.

He froze at what he saw.

Within the circles, with blood covering its ragged maw, stood a beast. Its head was lupine in form, with large fangs and teeth that constantly salivated, milky blind eyes, and spines starting from its forehead and continuing down its body. The armor of the beast was the same deep crimson of An-Ishkur's own, though it had been moved and formed into natural armor. Mangled fur sprouted from where the plates had buckled, sitting atop mutated musculature. Its arms were twice as long as they should've been, the hands having grown to triple their natural size and ending with curved and wicked claws. A long, almost serpentine tail, ending in a wicked thagomizer lashed. The legs were armored, wolf-like in form, with claws sprouting from the crimson ceramite boots. One of the circles was pulsing a sickly pattern of red. Zikar-Sin had a trail of blood coming down one side of his face, his clothing a messy ruin. The only other figure was a robed human, who was cowering away in the corner.

The bloodied rag of a robe that laid at the feet of the beast was all that remained of their companion.

The beast let out another ragged howling snarl, its sightless eyes staring into the ceiling.

"What have you done?" An-Ishkur demanded.

"It was not me! The daemon was too strong, it overpowered his soul!" Zikar-Sin shouted. He wiped blood from his forehead, drawing himself up and keeping his hands loose before him. "Thanks to the wonderful thralls provided to me, it was able to breach one of the wards against my distinct command!"

"It seems your thrall has paid the price for it."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, now help me!" Zikar-Sin said with an eyeroll. An-Ishkur approached the raging monster, keeping his weapon leveled at it.

"Hanahanu Elil!" he spoke, keeping his voice as strong as he could. "I know you are in there, brother. Hear me! Come back to us! We shall try again at a different time!"

"We are not using that weakling's name!" the beast spoke, resting its weight on its hands. Its tail lashed.

"You can speak?" An-Ishkur asked, lowering his weapon. He glanced to Zikar-Sin. "What shall we call you?"

"I am HERSYSAF!" he roared. "WE shall be HERSYAF! Not a weakling, soul-bound MORTAL!"

"Where is my brother?"

"I am your brother now, Captain An-Ishkur," Hersyaf practically purred. It came down to rest its weight on its hands. "The bitter whelp is going to be sleeping for a while. But I like him enough to not destroy him entirely. Not yet. He feeds me well." The two locked eyes. Through the milky film, An-Ishkur could swear he saw the same old tawny eyes of his oldest friend looking back. Hidden. Repressed. Pleading. The creature grinned, and An-Ishkur turned on Zikar-Sin.

"You have explaining to do. Lots of it." He revved his weapon, anger clear in his voice and in his posture as he stalked over to the sorcerer. "Start talking, or I'll rend you open myself. What have you done?"

"Those are questions best left answered for me, Captain," said a dangerous and deceptively soft voice from the doorway. Both An-Ishkur and Zikar-Sin diverted their eyes to the floor. An-Ishkur dropped to a knee.

"My Apostle," he practically whispered.

"Captain. You may look up, your obedience has been recognized." Eyes of flint locked onto the robed Master of Possession. "Zikar-Sin. I sensed that something had become altered," said the newcomer. "Look at me."

"Yes, lord," said the sorcerer, his voice actually sounding shaken, for once. Both looked up to see the unarmored form of the Dark Apostle of the Host, flanked by four members of the Annointed. Even Hersyaf seemed to be attentive, his nose sniffing at the air. A soft whine came from him.

"We shall discuss the ramifications of this failure and you shall discuss how this happened with me," the Apostle stated.

"Aposte Ans'ar, I-"

"You," he said, shifting his attention. "Captain."

"Yes, lord?"

"You know the brother whom we have lost?"

"Not yet lost," An-Ishkur said quickly. "I-I can still see him, my lord, though he has been pushed down. I think I can help save him."

"Do you?" His head was gently cocked to one side, his eyes intense and searching. He glanced back at the creature stuck beyond the wards.

"I do, Apostle." An-Ishkur nodded. There was silence. The tension was palpable. He could hear Hersyaf clawing at the ground.

"Then he shall be put under your command, if we decide he is to live." Ans'ar crossed his arms, making a gesture to one of the heavy-plated Terminators behind him. "Zikar-Sin, you are to come with us. You will explain what blasphemies you have created."

"Yes, Apostle," Zikar-Sin replied. The two Annointed came forward, with one seizing his arms and putting them behind his back.

"As for you," the Apostle once more looked to An-Ishkur. "You and your coterie may begin the rites of mourning. The Legion will join you." He turned to leave, but the captain's voice stopped him.

"Apostle, if I may?"

The Apostle stopped. "Speak, Captain."

"Please, let him live. Hanahanu and I have been together since we were aspirants. I know I can reach him. I know he's still in there. I can deal with Hersyaf. I promised him I would help him, no matter what happened."

The silence that followed made him feel as though he was balancing on the blade of a knife.

"Very well," the Apostle said with a small sigh. "If this is what you wish to pursue."

"It is."

"I can reverse this!" Zikar-Sin called as he was being taken away.

"Silence, sorcerer," Ans'ar called after him. "Then he shall be considered a member of your coterie. If he acts in a way that puts the Legion at jeopardy, he will be punished."

"As would any of us," An-Ishkur said quickly.

"Indeed," the Apostle agreed. He turned once more, making another gesture as he walked out with the Annointed, leaving An-Ishkur alone with Hersyaf in the circle.

"He wanted union," Hersyaf said in a snarling whisper. "He wanted the two to become one. And, well..." he grinned. His acidic saliva splattered and hissed on the salt making up the wards. "This is what our unity looks like."

An-Ishkur watched his Apostle leave, standing and facing Hersyaf. "Hanu never would've wanted this. But I swore to him I would help him no matter what."

"When did I ever say it was he who desired this unity?" the daemon asked with an all-too-knowing grin.

Coming Home

It was a quiet night. If anything could ever be called ‘night’ upon this world, anyway. The landscape was oddly beautiful. The land around the wanderer was glittering under the roiling, ever-turbulent skies. He briefly wondered if they would ever be calm, but he quickly realized that would be a foolish notion. For things to be calm, that would require stagnation, the antithesis of his capricious god’s whims. So he would be confined to this world of shifting madness, with its turbulent skies, never able to look up with his bare eye and see the stars. With his enhanced sight thanks to his abilities, he could, but... There was a certain feeling that came with being able to look up into a night of clear stars. A certain sense of awe and wonder, to see the galaxy laid bare before you. To see every dot and know that there was a system there, with life and its own splendor and beauty. 

The traveler walked on. The Legion was nowhere to be seen, and nor were the braying beastmen who sometimes accompanied them. There were no shrieking, cackling, shifting creatures lurking nearby. He was alone, within these barren plains. These plains of obsidian and basalt, these plains that grew crystalline stalks of grass and odd, misshapen trees. These plains that became plains of opal, with rocks of topaz, some reflecting eyes that watched the wanderer. This was a rarity upon this world of shifting rock, to be able to find a place so bare. No skittering, no footsteps save for his own.

Calm.

Peace.

Quiet.

He had a place where he could experience this. It was never too far away. But he still preferred to find a place within the Materium, if at all possible. There was something... something... real here. Something that helped to ground his fractured, turbulent self. He loved the Great Ocean, and he could spend an eternity studying and wandering its tides and seeing its wonders, but... there was still something wonderful about the Materium, even on a world like this. 

Even on a world with winds that stirred. Winds he could not truly feel anymore, although his mind did try to emulate the feeling. 

The wanderer enjoyed coming to places such as these where he could spend them in peaceful reflection. He had his Tower, yes, but it wasn’t the same. This place, although a fabrication, felt more appropriate. He had no destination in mind, either, and he did not need one. When he was ready to go back, he would simply spread his wings and fly back, or simply will himself to return there. But for now, he enjoyed walking. He enjoyed the false feeling of the earth and rock beneath his feet, although he knew it wasn’t real. It never would be again. Nothing more than a phantasm.

He cast his gaze skyward, sifting through the mass of colors and spotting the place where he had first looked at the skies in wonder. The first night he had arrived home. Oh, how long ago that had been. He remembered the awe that had completely consumed him, and the week he had spent wishing to learn more about every star he saw in the sky. He had done it, with help. But it was incomplete, he insisted. He remembered the look on the faces of those who had decided to teach and take care of him when he proclaimed he wished to catalog every star in the galaxy and beyond. Surprise. Disbelief. Some had chalked it up to a whimsical imagination. But he had done it. It took far, far longer than a week, but he had done it. And when his findings were published in the library, he remembered how he was glowing with pride. 

It was the first of many that would come to fill those libraries. Soon after came his discoveries in terms of the Great Ocean, of the disciplines that would define his home, of the fauna and flora of his now-barren home...

The traveler realized he had stopped walking to stare at the charred rock in the distant sky. It was almost ready to grow life again. It was so close. It was so, so close... But then it was killed once more. He always remembered the first day it died with a pang of sorrow and regret within his very soul. He felt that he should have moved on -- this event was millennia ago, after all -- but it still stayed with him, as much as he hated to admit it. He remembered the skies growing dark. He remembered the rain, he remembered the destruction, the cries he ignored...

The price he finally had to pay.

Gods, what a fool he had been. All a waste. He should have fought sooner. He shouldn’t have let himself become so consumed by grief so quickly. Everything was his fault, and he acknowledged it. It was partially why he even brought this world back into the Materium. He wanted to find a way to make amends, or to try and have things be the way they should’ve been. It’s why he had been reaching out to the various psykers of the galaxy. He wanted to teach them. He wanted to help humanity truly reach its full potential. He wanted them to become enlightened. 

He wanted for them to find a place to call home.

But this world? No. This world will not suffice. This world will be his home, and the home of his Legion. But the psykers, the humans? They will have his old home, once they are able to safely secure it. Thanks to a gift from a friend, he would be able to, hopefully, rewild it with native species. They had been growing quite well within the designated greenhouses and gardens, and they would be ready for transport soon. With the Great Rift opening so close to home, he had hoped it would offer protection. Obviously, he thought wrong.

The wanderer shook his head, letting out a sigh before he began walking again. Walking upon the shifting plains that ended at a river of shifting water, reflecting all sorts of colors, the colors bathing the traveler’s skin and turning it blue. Things swam within the waters. Unnatural things. Mutated things. One stopped to gape up at the giant looking down at it. After it swam away, the traveler simply walked over the river, continuing on his way. He saw the twinkling lights of a human settlement, and he stopped. He felt another pang of sorrow as he looked at it. They deserved more. They deserved to have a better home than this. 

They would, he told himself. Once more he looked to the skies, through the turbulent heavens, seeing the scorched remains of his old homeworld. For a moment, he thought he could see a small, green sprout, out of the dust. Even if it was his mind only making illusions, he still found himself smiling.

Yes, they will have a home, someday. 

They all would.

⭐️Friendship🌟.

Birchsong

Name: Rowan

Warrior Name: Birchsong

Species: Cat

Birthdate: 6/13

Birthplace: FireClan

Home Territory: FireClan

Dream Territory: BloodClan

Physical Description, Human: A short, skinny Irish enby with a dark brown deathhawk and hazel eyes.

Physical Description, Cat: A cream cat with brown tabby stripes, a tan muzzle, paws and chest. Hazel eyes and littered with scars. Around their neck is a black collar with animal teeth around it like spikes.

Human Career: Wants to be an Art Therapist

Hobbies/Interests: Video-games, writing/reading, nature

Favorite Movies: The Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal, The Last Unicorn

Favorite Cat Movies: I can’t think of any. Felidae maybe?

Favorite Literature: Poetry, Faerie stories

Favorite Cat Literature: Warriors

Favorite Art: Fanart, hyper-realism, textured painting

Favorite Cat art: funky little victorian cats in paintings

Favorite Saying/Quote: Red instead for autism acceptance

Favorite Cat Saying/Quote: Destiny isn't a path that any cat follows blindly. It is always a matter of choice, and sometimes the heart speaks loudest.

Favorite Personal Quote: You do not owe anyone an explanation for your actions or identity.

Favorite Song/Band: C418

Favorite Season: Autumn

Favorite Holiday: Halloween

Preferred Prey: Fish, Dogs

Hunting Tips: Remember the basics; the wind must always blow towards you.

Preferred Method of Attack: Ambush.

Favorite Non-Cat Mythological Beastie: Kirin

Feelings Towards Dogs: bite kill maime; jk dogs are cool

Feelings Towards Humans: Most of their true natures are good, but lots of them choose to be bad

Personal Notes:

I got into Warriors in middleschool, and read only Warriors books for a year. Autism moment, haha. Birchsong was my first OC, and I made this blog to get back into their character. They used to be a girl, but because they’re technically my self insert, I changed them to be nonbinary too. I shipped them with Scourge. Still am one of those guys, haha. I like the broken ones, because me too, haha. I think I’ll always be into Warriors. It’s just one of those things you can go back to and never get tired of. Like Minecraft!

Birchsong was friends with my BFF’s OC, Moonclaw. We made a whole story, and Moonclaw became Moonstar and I was deputy. I was going to leave FireClan and lead BloodClan to gain more cats with the help of Scourge’s ghost. Maybe turn a new leaf for BloodClan, but it never came to fruition. As most middle school writing projects do.

Ask questions or roleplay if you want! I’m open to it! Also my system Warriors account is @gloriosiaclan

was tagged by @timefire25 ! Thanks for tagging!

I'll start with Suncloud for this one

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

Her name. Suncloud, direct afterwards her personality was sculpted after her name. Also she was kinda my first OC

2. Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

Suncloud, a feathered dragon, Moonclaw a silver raptoric beast, Nightrain, a dark blue endangered waterdragon

I liked Suncloud much, that I even colored her concept as the only one of the three, the other ones are pretty much scrapped.

Other than that not really, just later I wanted to give her a story she deserved

(I'm not talking much about the total story because I hardly move forward and scrap one story after another.. )

3. How did you choose their name?

Like I said, I thought about certain weather bases and Suncloud seems like a shimmer of happiness peeking behind a clutter of sorrows

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

The society her kind is trapped in and her family

5. Is there any significance behind their hair colour?

At the edge of her jaw, some off colored feathers are seen, rather uncommon for her kind, don't you think? They are supposed to have a meaning, yes.

Oh and her belly colour used to be s bit dark grey instead of black, but it didn't show in her original ref and I just kept it that way.

6. Is there any significance behind their eye colour?

I wanted it to be not yellow or orange, but otherwise nope

7. Is there anything significance behind their height?

She is short. Judging by the length of her horns, that won't change much anymore and doesn't help her getting along with Bloodcloud and Crimsoncloud either. How is she supposed to fight like this?

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story?

I…won't bring this up now…

9. Are they based off of you, in some way?

Not really, no.

10. Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

Nope. But after I made my second OC I had to refrain from deciding just yet

11. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: Writing, drawing, edits etc.)?

Her way of acting and involving herself

12. How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

a bit

13. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

Most of the time she has no idea of what she is doing/is going on

Too careful

14. What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

Ridiculous cluelessness

15. What is something about your OC that can make you cry?

Her relationship with Bloodcloud and Suncloud and what she is forced to be

16. Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

I haven't bumped into a problem yet

17. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

Lucyf and Suncloud are a possible ship?

18. What is your favourite fact about your OC?

Smol poor floof

i was tagged by the wonderful @pixelpolaroid and amazing @highwarlockofhogsmeade thank you guys so much!

Here’s the rules: Write the first 10 songs that come up on shuffle and quote your favorite lyric. then tag 10 people. Enjoy~

1. Bubblegum Bitch- Marina and The Diamonds

Queentex, latex, I'm your wondermaid. Life gave me some lemons so I made some lemonade

2. Immortals- Fall Out Boy

I'm still comparing your past to my future.

3. Oh No!- Marina and The Diamonds

I know exactly why i walk and talk like a machine

4. Crazy=Genius- P!ATD

You can set yourself on fire, but you’re never gonna burn burn burn

5. Game Over- Falling In Reverse

He told me that I need to change, life is not a video game

6. Dancing Queen- ABBA

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life

7. Hey Soul Sister- Train

I knew I wouldn't forget you, and so I went and let you blow my mind

8. Sugar We’re Going Down- Fall Out Boy

We’re goin down down, dodododoodo down

9. Hooked On A Feeling- Blue Swede

Lips as sweet as candy, its taste is on my mind

10. Pretty Girl- Clairo

Polaroid of you dancing in my room, i want to remember

@gamingdemon666 @pigeon130 @cthebooklover @strangeparker @luna64537 @moonclawe @chelseareferenced @221biotchplease @spooky-little-l @no-room-to-create

—  PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER !

tagged by: @hxnterwxlf

tagging: // anyone who wants to do this!

ONE ( ALIAS / NAME ):  Kro, Moonclaw

TWO ( BIRTHDAY ):   December 31

THREE ( ZODIAC SIGN ):  Capricorn

FOUR ( HEIGHT ):   ???

FIVE ( HOBBIES ):  Drawing, Writing, screaming over ships and OCs

SIX ( FAVOURITE COLOUR(S) ): Orange, Blue and Purple

SEVEN ( FAVOURITE BOOKS ): How to train your dragon, Wings of fire, Inheritence Cycle

EIGHT ( LAST SONG LISTENED TO): I am Moana

NINE ( LAST FILM WATCHED ): Venom {I think, not entirely sure}

TEN ( INSPIRATION FOR BLOG/MUSE): A ROTG comic honestly, then everything spiraled from there. The comic gave me the idea of making a Shapeshifter OC, the rest I developed over time. Forst was orginally so much different, psychotic even.

ELEVEN ( MEANING BEHIND YOUR URL ): Verräter means “Betrayal” which is fitting for Forst in many ways, mostly referring to his relationship with the denxo king.

Dear An’da #5

Dear An’da,

How are you and Min’da? Sorry it’s been awhile since my last letter, Nightpurr ate the last one and with the mission we’re on, it hasn’t allowed me much time to write. Thankfully the dragons we’re camped with remember me from the last time we were here and don’t mind delivering letters to Dalaran in exchange for some origami figures. The whelplings love it especially and they all flock to me when one spies me pulling out my origami paper as they all want a little paper dragon of themselves.

Anyway, I’m fine physically, but I’d like to tell you something that I’m not entirely sure how to say. I guess, I… how do you know you’re in love with someone An’da? I don’t know for sure, I mean I know you and Min’da are more friends than lovers and both mutually agreed to have me, but… I seem to have somehow developed a love life and it’s rather a mess.

I think I’m turning into Uncle Ourrin… (er, former Uncle Ourrin, not the current one.)

So anyway, at first I have a bit of a thing with a Moonclaw Sentinel, but, she, ah, wanted something more and I didn’t. I mean I liked her fine, but… I don’t know how exactly to put it into words. She wanted something more and at the time I wasn’t sure I wanted that - at least in her timeframe. I mean, it is something serious to consider, Worgen/Humans don’t have the same time on Azeroth that we do. I tried to break it off with her, I thought I made it clear that maybe we should just be friends from now on, but no, she keeps sending me letters and packages and it’s getting a bit… unnerving. I promised to speak with her face to face over this after this mission when we’re back home in Darnassus, but should I send her a letter saying thank you but please stop? Its making me very much want nothing to do with her anymore. I mean the gesture is nice, but the letters are… clingy. I don’t like it, it’s becoming blaringly obvious I must be more firm with her when I see her next and just end it completely, even the friendship sadly.

You’d think I’d learn my lesson with this, but no, apparently not. I swear, if I’m nice to someone, everyone takes it as I’m in love with them. I don’t quite get it. Can’t someone be nice just for the sake of being nice?

That aside, Huntress Glaiveheart was doing one of her informational lessons that I attended as the Broken Isles are full of so much of our history I couldn’t pass it up. As we were walking around and she was giving her lesson, I noticed someone following our group listening in. He was on the fringe and he just... I don’t know what happened or how to describe it. I looked upon his face and my heart bled for him. He just had so much loneliness and pain etched there. I had been fiddling with my origami paper at the time and had just finished off making a dragon. At the end of the lecture I just walked up and handed it to him. I thought it would just be a nice gesture. That’s all I intended originally, I swear, once again I was just being true to me and just trying to be nice to someone who looked like they could use some cheering up. A senior Priestess once told me that sometimes the smallest act of kindness can change the world, but I didn’t know it would rock mine.

After that he kept coming around and we got to talking. I don’t know how to explain it really, looking back it should have been creepy and I shouldn’t have… I just shouldn’t have, but when I’m with him... It just feels right, like nothing else matters, even when I know it should matter. I’m scared, not of him, just of these feelings, they’re so intense. My heart and my head feel like they’re at war over this and I’m not sure how to resolve it.

His name is Vilaxian Dawnstorm and he’s, well, a Demon Hunter. Sorta. It’s a complicated story. He was made into one by his mother, so he didn’t choose to be what he is currently. He wasn’t on a good path until recently and he has a ton to atone for, but… When I see him I just want to pull out all the hurt and heal it. It sounds so crazy, no, it IS crazy. Again, my brain says one thing, my heart another.

I ask myself, is this Elune’s will? Did she send me to him to help him? Or for him to teach me something as well? Will it be a lesson of healing and love or pain and remorse? I must confess I fear either answer currently. I am too young I feel, too young for something this serious. I feel like a runaway saber who hasn’t seen the cliff he’s about to run off until it’s too late to stop. Elune help me see more clearly.

And it gets crazier, oh yes, your daughter is that stupid. I’ve told you about Liall before, the Worgen who follows our cadre? We’ve grown very close since my time meeting her. I was going to bring her home to meet you as she and I took the rite of becoming Heart-Sisters. I like to think of her as my best friend (since Guardian Nightbreeze is well, a Guardian and I am just a Keeper, so you can’t be best friends with your superior officers, that’s not good, but I do feel a kinship with her too). But we’ve become even more close, she’s not been happy of late as her marriage broke up recently and I’ve tried to be there for her. However she hates Vilaxian (and he’s not fond of her either) and when she found out I had been seeing him she told me she couldn’t see me anymore and that broke my heart. We’ve since made up as she’s in a similar boat as I, she too loves another she shouldn’t and feels like she’s always second fiddle to everything. We’re a fine pair, eh?

Oh, Elune, maybe I’m turning into Cousin Adara instead. Eek.

So there you have it, a confession of my weary heart and while it feels good to finally tell someone all of this, I also know the face you’re making right now as you read this. I can see it in my mind as clear as day and I know you’re disappointed with me. I’m disappointed with me. I feel like I could have handled all of this much better than I did/do. Like I said previously my heart and my head are at war. I need to be a Sentinel above all else, no, I want to be a Sentinel above all else, and I need my head on straight so I can fight with my Sisters as we protect each other during these dangerous times. I pray to Elune with every moonrise and every moonset of the Mother that this will all work out, for everyone.

Please know I love you An’da. Send Min’da my love and I will send another letter soon if Elune allows. Be well.

Much Love,

Iyora

Guardian

It felt like it happened just hours ago. He could not remember how long ago this was. He seldom could in times like these. All he knew was the familiarity of the grief and sorrow that had consumed him on that day, and that followed him even now. How long ago was this? A meaningless question, really. Nothing had ever cut so deep. Not even the accursed blade of the Wolf King himself, nor the lancing fire from a Baneblade searing into his chest. Nothing had hurt him so deeply, wounded him so thoroughly as this. He was alone, for now. Or so one may consider it. None other occupied the space but he. And yet, he was not alone. Upon each reflective surface of the world around him, there lay a reflection. A mirror image that was able to move and think of its own volition, but contained within the vessel that manifested itself within this place. This place that was ever-shifting, as was he. The flesh that was not flesh constantly felt as though it was flickering, shimmering with untapped potential. Potential for what? There was nothing that could be done now. He was on his knees. Where the environment had once been a room of shifting crystalline structures, it then changed to that of a broken world of ash and blackened rain. Glass lay scattered all around him, and within it, reflections. Some were angry, some were sad, some were, somehow, smiling with manic joy. But to even a passing glimpse, one would notice something held them all together -- sorrow. Pain. So deep and so immense that it could practically be felt. Rain was still slashing at the broken ground, a ground now covered in nothing more than ash and dust. Decades of hope, decades of work, all ruined. All gone. He kept his head bowed, so that he would not have to look upon his shame. He felt something hot and wet run down his face, something different than the rain pattering against his back and soaking his mane of hair. A phantasm of a feeling. Not real, and yet it felt so vivid. He reached a large, clawed hand to his face, wiping something from his eye. His lips quivered. He felt a lump growing within his throat. He closed his eye, feeling more warm tears track down his cheek. "Hey," a small voice spoke. He heard small footsteps approaching him. Slowly, he lifted his head, just barely. He caught a glimpse of brightly colored feathers, purple ones, coating small legs. He once more reached up a hand to wipe at his eye, but he said nothing. "You're Magnus, right?" the creature asked. Magnus looked up a little more, then, his face somehow an even deeper and richer red hue than it normally was. The creature was bird-like, although it sported a long, feathery tail with a small plume on the end. It was mainly purple, with fluff upon its chest that transitioned from the vibrant purple into fuschia. Its wings were a sky blue that turned to the color of sapphires, and the plume on its tail mirrored this. It had a grey, hardened beak, and a sky blue streak over one eye. 

"I'm Kazakh," the creature said. "I'm uh... I'm what you flesh-types would call a daemon." "Have you come to mock me?" Magnus asked, his voice a little roughened by his grief. "No, no. I uh... I actually came for something else." The creature, Kazakh, approached slowly. Magnus didn't move from his spot, keeping his eye on the creature. Kazakh then just walked up, hopped onto his lap, and pressed himself against the red giant. "What is this?" Magnus asked softly. "Well... I noticed that you come here often," Kazakh began, looking up at the other. "And I noticed that you're really sad. You don't seem like you have many friends around." Magnus made a snort at that. "And, well, I..." Kazakh hopped off his lap, taking in a small breath. "I'll be your guardian." "You?" "From loneliness," the daemon clarified. "For when you come back to this place. Or for when you want to. Or just when you need someone there, y'know?" Kazakh spread out his wings. "I mean... I'm not very big, but I can still do this." Once more, he stepped forward and pressed himself against Magnus, this time wrapping his wings around him. Magnus was immobile for a moment or two, before he cautiously wrapped his arms around the small bird. He felt his throat closing up, and more tears coming to his eye. He held the daemon a little tighter, and Kazakh tried to return the favor as best he could. "You can't change your past," the daemon said. "As much as you'll come here to relive its final moments, it won't change, Magnus. It hurts, I know, I can feel it. But... but it won't hurt forever. I'll help you so that you won't have to hurt so much." Kazakh looked up into the face of the spectre of the primarch. "When your sorrow overtakes you, you can call on me. Lay your troubles on me, friend, I'll be with you until the end." Somehow, the daemon smiled. "I'll be your guardian!" Magnus felt the sides of his mouth twitch into a smile. Kazakh let out a small squawk, which Magnus interpreted as happiness. "Ha! I made you smile a little there!" he said triumphantly. The primarch felt his smile grow, and he gave the daemon a small nod. "I suppose it did," he said, his voice still clogged by sadness. "Thank you, Kazakh." "Aw, don't mention it, buddy." Kazakh snuggled up against Magnus again before he broke away. "And we don't have to tell anyone about it if you don't want to. But I'll be here for you, I promise." Once more, the bird smiled brightly. "It's kinda funny. You're very big, and yet I'm going to be your little guardian-companion." He let out a squeaky little laugh, and Magnus let out a small chuckle, nodding in agreement. "It is a little ironic, isn't it?" As he spoke, the world of ash and rain slowly faded away, and the duo appeared within a crystalline chamber, although there were rows upon rows of books around him. Kazakh looked around, looking awestruck. "Is all this yours?" "In a sense, yes. Welcome to the Obsidian Tower." "Woah..." Kazakh jogged through some of the shelves. "This is really cool! Don't get why you call it 'Obsidian' though." Magnus rose from his knees, beckoning for the daemon to follow. "I'll show you." He walked over to one wall, and it melted away to allow an open window to form. Once more, Magnus beckoned, and he leapt out the window, but swiftly caught himself. Kazakh followed him out, wings spread. On the outside, the tower was made of a darkened rock, looking akin to smooth obsidian. It was tall. Very tall. One of the tallest things Kazakh had ever seen. Magnus smiled at his look of marvel. "If you think this is impressive, let me show you the view from the top." It was a short flight upward, and the two were now at the very top of the Obsidian Tower. Kazakh was perched on a rail, which Magnus was leaning on with his elbows. They looked out over the world below, seeing the myriad of shifting storms and madness, along with the daemons flocking through the skies and some through the grounds below. Other towers dotted the surface of the world, all unique in their own special way. But the Obsidian Tower was by far the tallest and the largest. Kazakh found that to be a little amusing. "The view up here is amazing," he commented. "I could stay up here all day." Magnus nodded in agreement. "It is, isn't it?" He chuckled softly before he had an idea. "How about you do stay here, Kazakh?" "Really?" The daemon turned to the primarch, excitement clear in his eyes. "Can I really?" Magnus nodded, and Kazakh let out a small little cheer. "Awesome! Now I can stay close by! It'll be even easier to find me, and it'll be easier for me to help you. Oh, and a good place to keep my hoard safe." "Your... hoard?" "Yeah! I keep some of it in my fluff here." Kazakh fished out a few very flashy, precious stones. "See? Aren't they pretty?" "They are indeed," Magnus agreed with a small nod. "How big is your hoard?" "Not too big, I could fit everything in here if I wanted. But I don't, because theft can be kinda common, and it's not wise to keep your treasures in the same space." Kazakh walked along the rail, humming. He strutted over to a corner, then settled down, nodding. "Right here. It's perfect!" "I'll let you get settled in, then." Magnus turned to head back into the Tower. "Wait!" Kazakh fluttered over to his shoulder, and nuzzled into his neck for a few moments. "Thanks. I mean that." "I should be thanking you, my new little friend." Magnus nuzzled back, before Kazakh returned to his new perch. Magnus smiled at him and waved, then headed back into his Tower. Kazakh let out a sigh, nodding, and he started taking out the precious gems within his fluff. He paused when he found a scarab, remembering that he saw a blackened one amongst the vision of rubble Magnus found himself within. Quickly, before Magnus could notice, Kazakh dove off the rail, through the still-open window, and left the scarab on the ground where Magnus had been standing, before he swooped back out and returned to his perch, smiling and cackling to himself. Magnus returned to the crystalline library, walking through and running a hand over the spines. He returned to the spot where he had felt his sorrow get the best of him, and where he once knelt, there was a small, bejeweled scarab. He let out a light laugh, scooping it up and inspecting it. He cast a knowing glance upwards at the ceiling, shaking his head. He carried it back to the desk that had formed at one end of the room, sitting down with a sigh. He closed his eye, and instead of seeing a world of ashes, he saw a world of lush sunlight. He felt warmth upon his soul, a warmth he had not felt since... he could not recall when. A smile reflecting this was upon his face. The scarab felt warm within his hands, too. He placed his hands to his chest, and he felt the scarab grow warmer and warmer, until... it was gone. When he returned to the other world, he found his hands pressed to his chest, and when he pulled them away, the scarab was still sitting there, but there was a new inscription upon its shell. When your sorrow overtakes you, you can just call on me. Lay your troubles on me, friend, I'll be with you until the end. Magnus curled his fingers around it once more, feeling another warm tear roll down his face. "My guardian..." he whispered.

📖📖📖

[Send thing for story]

[3 are the stories you now will be told. 3 bitter memories of time foreign and old...

And they will also be under a cut because it’s lengthy. I’ll reblog this with the other two parts, and those will have respective cuts.]

“Magnus,” a voice called. “Magnus, can you hear me?”

The voice sounded as though it was right beside him. It almost made him jump, if he had not been able to feel the presence of the speaker nearby. He was currently hunched over a small table that had a variety of books and notes scattered about, the most important of which were being transcribed into a grimoire. Outside, the normally pleasant and warm Tizcan sun was absent, as it was one of the rare days that it rained. 

The rains slashed at the window that was currently held shut, making small pattering noises and tracing patterns down the glass. The window was large, practically the size of one wall, although there were a few bookshelves obscuring its edges like the edges of a picture frame. Normally it would frame the beautiful, lush, and vivid Desolation, but today it framed nothing but dark grey stormclouds and seemingly ceaseless rain. The studious scribe knew the rains would let up in a few hours. 

The young primarch was sat cross-legged at the table. He grew quickly in the year and few months he had been dwelling among the people of Prospero, already the size of an average man, and showing no signs of stopping any time soon. Currently, he was dressed in nothing more than some loose, light blue robes. Something casual and decent, if he was required for something. He doubted he would today. Today was going to be the day that he checked on the newer seedlings sprouting in the small garden outside his current abode, but due to the rain, he opted to get his transcriptions and observations into a more digestible and completed form. Having to carry many different tomes and loose notes was quite cumbersome. 

“Yes,” he said, seemingly speaking to the air, “I can hear you. You have come at an opportune time, I was just about to pause in my transcriptions.”

“Building a grimoire for yourself?”

“Of course. But it is not just for me.” He gestured to the notebook off to his left. “This is the last of the observations that I wish to compile.”

“Not just for you?”

“No. I intend to use it in order to teach the others. I have already learned all they have to teach me, and thus I have been taking my studies of my abilities and the Great Ocean into my hands. The Magisters are still guiding me, in order to provide me council, but everything here,” he swept a crimson hand over the compiled books and notes, “is out of their reach. For now, anyway. I wish to teach them about it, and we can teach the rest of the people of Tizca.”

“That is a very noble idea, Magnus,” the voice said, sounding almost thoughtful.  “Others may wish to hoard the knowledge in order to have an advantage over their lessers.”

“Something for pitiful men,” Magnus remarked with a sigh. The stylus he had been using was slowly drying out. As he spoke next, he used a little telekinesis in order to stack the books and notebooks in a neat order as he finished writing. “Something which I also do not understand. Why would one wish to keep such wonders to themselves? Would it not be best to be able to delight in such things with others?”

The voice had no response, at first. The young primarch lifted his head, raising a brow. He was about to call out when he heard the voice return.

“Some wish to be alone. To be alone with power or wealth or whatever else may come from hoarding such a thing.”

“Would it not get tiresome and lonely? Would one not become frustrated because others cannot see or experience what they can?”

“It could, yes.” The voice sounded weary. “Some people are just... stubborn, in that sense, Magnus. They crave power so badly that they forget all else.”

“I will never fully understand that.” Magnus frowned. “I can see and do so much more than my teachers already. I feel bad for it, in a way. They deserve to see the beauty I see too, and know the secrets I am learning. Perhaps it could even be a way for us to get rid of the psychneuein.” 

“Perhaps,” the voice agreed. In the silence that followed, Magnus stood, collecting the books from the table and walking over to their respective shelves to put them back. The distant rumble of thunder momentarily caught his attention, and his gaze flickered to the window. Rain beat against the window with a little more fervor, and past that, the streets of young Tizca were full of water. Within the Desolation, trees were bending under the winds, their leaves being forced downward with the powerful rains. For a brief moment, Magnus wondered about the animals that dwelt within. Perhaps, if he was granted permission, he could go out and study a few species. Just for a short while. Nothing that may risk a psychneuein encounter.  

He put the last book into place and walked over to the window, just watching the storm. As rare as they were for Prospero, he found them to be relaxing. Sometimes they could become violent, with loud, roaring thunder and the brilliant flashes of lightning. Or they could be as they were today, only moderately horrible. The streets would be flooded tomorrow, but they could easily have the water reallocated to a river that flowed nearby. He knew that there were devices in place to help collect the rainwater. No droughts for them.

“When are you coming to find me?” Magnus asked, tracing the intricate designs of the water as it ran down the window. His arms were lightly crossed. 

“Not for a while,” the voice returned. “I shall inform you of when I am close. Try not to be too impatient.”

Magnus let out a small hum, nodding. “I will wait until then.”

“Do not try looking for the answer, either.”

“How did you know I figured out some more advanced divination?”

“I can see the notes you wrote, Magnus.”

“Oh, right.” Magnus momentarily flushed with embarrassment. “I doubt I can look that far, anyway. I can almost predict what will happen two weeks from now, but I only see many paths for the next few days.”

“Your abilities will improve with time. But please, be careful.”

“I know, I know, predators in the Great Ocean. I have heard it quite often.”

“Good. I hope that means you shall heed it, then.”

“I will. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“... Alright.” The voice sounded hesitant. 

“Are you doubting me?”

“Try to avoid becoming headstrong and arrogant, that is all.” 

Magnus scoffed.

“I have to go, for now. I shall reach out to you again, soon. Perhaps I can teach you a thing or two about divination, if you are interested.”

“Could you?” Magnus turned to the relative direction the voice was in. Or rather, what direction it felt like it was in. He saw nothing there, not even an aura. But he sill felt the presence of the speaker. His face was lit up in a wide grin, with a flash of eagerness in his gaze. He heard an approximation of a laugh.

“I may be able to. We shall see when the time comes.”

“Okay, okay...” The student let out a sigh. “I shall wait for you until then. And, hopefully, when the weather fares a little better.”

“Indeed. Goodbye, Magnus.” The voice left with what felt like a small laugh, although it also felt like the projection of joy or happiness of some sort. Magnus smiled a little to himself, then looked back out into the storm, seeing the first rays of the sun beginning to break up the bleak sky. 

WHEN THEY HOWL characters boiled down to their main personality traits.

The main characters of my book everybody.

"Hey babe,are you okay?"

My WTHwip girls from a scene that may or may not be in this book or might be thrown into another book later on<3.

My WHEN THEY HOWL girls<3.

We love a mum friend.