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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

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After the Storm

Merman Jonathan Joestar x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Mermaid AU

This is a little long as I got carried away. Please enjoy.

Voices clashed against one another on the docks, shouting orders and questions as people clustered about, removing cargo from the ships returning to the docks and loading cargo into the ships that were due to depart shortly. Picking the large box up, [Name] followed the captain's directions and took the box into the cargo hold, setting it down and panting a little.

Working on the docks was not considered the easiest of jobs but she needed to earn money to be able to survive so she was taking the risks. Surprisingly, there were some people who didn’t mind having a woman working on the docks. “As long as the work’s done, I don’t care what’s between ya legs.” The captain told her once when she asked if she could work for him. He was a decent man, [Name] would give him that much. Plus, during her time on the docks, she had heard stories of the different countries they had travelled to.

As she finished loading the cargo, she heard the captain give the final call for all passengers to board the ship. She turned to leave the ship when she was stopped by the captain, a warm smile on his lips.

“Ya wanna come with, [Name]?” he asked, the captain was always kind to her fr her work. She smiled and agreed with this, excited to see more of the world. Of course, she still did what she could around the ship to make up for the work which the captain was happy for. Though, things soon took an unwanted turn when they departed.

Dark clouds rumbled with thunder, promising no easy passage through it as the waves grew in their anger, biting and clashing with the ship, determined to inflict their anger upon something. The ship swayed in the crushing waves, everyone scrambling to guide the ship through this storm and keep each other safe. Powerful wind gusts shoved the ship’s sails around like paper in the breeze in its argument with the sea; the orders shouted by the captain and crew were muffled by the wind and sea.

[Name] rushed across the deck towards the mast, the other crew member struggling to keep it steady. She grabbed hold of the rope and helped them try to secure it more, the sea making it difficult as it batted them. Seeming to have grown annoyed with the people, the wind threw one final gust of air that tipped the ship somewhat, the sea also clashing as it did. The combined attack was more than enough to send some of the crew members to the floor, [Name] being one of them. Her head smacked against the wooden edge of the ship as it tiled again, and with nothing to keep her grounded, her body fell over the edge and into the roaring sea.

Her body was swallowed by the thrashing waves, throwing her around a little before pulling her down into the depths. Dazed from the strike to the head, she could not even tell which way was up or down, leaving her dizzy and at the mercy of anything that lurked within the sea’s darkness. Among that darkness was something she feared. Nature’s infamous sea predator, eyes as black as an abyss with jaws lined with razor teeth ready to tear her to pieces. The shark caught a whiff of the blood that seeped from her head and locked onto its target.

It grew closer to her without detection, her mind still trying to focus on returning to the surface and keep herself from drowning, leaving her open for its attack. Its mouth opened, revealing the rows of razor sharp teeth, ready to strike and latch onto her when something else collided into the shark, forcing it off its target and into the ragged stones close to them. This predator hissed at the shark, baring his own razor sharp teeth that were just as easily capable of slicing through flesh as his claws were.

The shark darted off quickly, getting as far away from this predator as possible. The creature turned towards the human and his inhumanly blue eyes widened a little, the hostility it radiated immediately replaced with a concern for this human as he swam towards them. Before the human could reach the surface of the water, her movements went limp, her consciousness faded from the lack of oxygen as well as the injury. The creature grabbed hold of her carefully and swam up to the surface, keeping her head above the waves the best he could in this storm.

No, this storm was too brutal and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Keeping a secure hold on the human, the creature turned and swam towards an area he knew was safe.

***

A dull throbbing drummed [Name]’s head, her [Eye colour] eyes cracking open only to wince at the reflective light of the sun bouncing from the now calm waters in front of her. Sitting upright slowly, she held her head in hopes to soothe the throbbing and forced her [Eye colour] eyes open to take in her surroundings.

The area seemed to be a small cove. Soft, warm sand underneath her with the calm crystal blue water only feet away from her. Small shells decorated the sand as shade was offered by the trees that stood around the cove, their lush green leaves standing proud. The events of last night played in her head, the storm battering the ship, the waves clashing against her and dragging her into the water then...something pulling her back to the surface. She could vaguely recall feeling arms around her as the last of her consciousness faded.

Odd. Slowly, she tried to stand upright to explore the area when she noticed something very odd. Close to where she was laying was a pile of things. Clothes, dry wood, stones and a towel. The clothes were obviously men’s clothes and were quite large. Looking around, she tried to see if she could see the owner of these clothes yet found she was alone. Confusion swirled around in her mind until she heard something in the water.

[Eye colour] eyes widened, shock flooding them at the sight of the creature emerging from the water. Dark hair sticking to his face as he surfaced from the water, inhumanly blue eyes glowing softly like the water itself. Silver scales covering the creature’s body that shimmered in the sun’s light with a large gleaming tail fin where his legs should have been. Clawed, webbed hands that pulled himself onto land with a handful of freshly caught fish in the other. The merman looked up and stopped, blinking in surprise to see the human awake.

The two remained still, staring at each other, unsure of what to do until the merman spoke. “Good morning...I, um, brought you some food.” His speech was smooth and soft, unlike what you would expect to hear from a creature of the sea. [Name] blinked and tried to force down her shock though it was difficult to. There was a merman -a creature of myth- talking to her. He held the fish out for her, his posture and expression warm and calm, no hostility at all.

Slowly, [Name] stood upright and approached the merman, carefully taking the fish from him. “T-Thank you.” At this, he smiled at her, happy that she accepted his offering. He has no idea when she had last eaten and the last thing he wanted was for her to starve to death.

Carefully, he pulled himself further onto shore, leaving the sea’s touch and allowed his form to change. His tail fin split down, becoming two bare legs as his scales shedded into skin, the dorsal fin along his spine retracted along with the webbing on his hands and the claws. The process was indeed painful but he has endured it a few times before, though it was still just as painful as the first time.

[Name] watched with amazement mixed shock. Her mind still trying to process the fact at this mythical creature actually existed. Snapping out of her little trance, she grabbed the towel and walked over to the merman, handing him the towel.

“Here you go.” she handed the towel to him as well as the clothes, now understanding that they must have belonged to him. Her eyes averting his bare form. He thanked her and dried himself off, quickly dressing himself. He has observed the humans long enough to know that you had to wear clothes and it was deemed rude and inappropriate to not wear them.

He turned back to the [Hair colour] woman once he was dressed, that warm smile still on his lips. “My name is Jonathan. Well, it’s the name I picked.” He introduced himself, hoping to help the human calm down a little.

She blinked, her [Eye colour] eyes glimmering in the sunlight, reminding him of the jewels he has found among shipwrecks. They were beautiful. “My name is [Name], are you the one who saved me in the storm?” He smiled and nodded. She gave him a soft smile, “Thank you, Jonathan.”

His sea blue eyes lit up at that, the smile on his lips lifting more. The wariness that she radiated earlier was fading, her posture growing calmer around him now knowing he was no threat to her, and her saviour. Standing up a little slowly, gathering his stability on his legs again, he picked up the other fish and walked over to the dry wood and stones, trying to get a fire started. [Name] watched this and looked at him.

“Would you like me to help you?” She asked, kneeling beside him. Jonathan nodded, handing her the stones.

“Yes please.” It took a good few attempts but they were able to get the fire started. It was strange turn of events but [Name] could not deny that she was grateful for the merman rescuing her. The least she could do was show her gratitude for it.

#jonathan #jonathan joestar #jojo bizarre adventure #jonathan x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #phantom blood #phantom blood x reader #jojo phantom blood #jojo part 1 #mermaid au #jjba #jjba x reader

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fistsoflightning · 5 years

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unending character meme // zaya qestir

RULES: repost, don’t reblog! tag, and good luck!

TAGGED BY: tagged in spirit by @to-the-voiceless

TAGGING: any and all who want to do it but haven’t actually been tagged by anyone!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Zaya Qestir

NICKNAME: none, really.

AGE: 29 by the end of Stormblood. 30-ish by the end of SHB? Haven’t figured out the time distortion thing.

BIRTHDAY: 17th of the 4th Umbral Moon (8/17)

ETHNIC GROUP: Au’ra; Xaelan

NATIONALITY: Nomad? From the Azim Steppe’s Reunion, if that helps.

LANGUAGE / S: Eorzean Sign Language, Xaelan (crude/unpracticed); understands most languages through use of the Echo

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: dating Thancred Waters??? unsure of status during post-SHB but getting there.

HOME TOWN /AREA: Reunion, Azim Steppe

CURRENT HOME: A shared room in the Rising Stones or a shared house in the Mist; depends on where they are at the time of night.

PROFESSION: jeweler, weaver, gladiator of the coliseum, bard teacher (appointed reluctantly by Sanson after many a problem with Guydelot’s schedule), adventurer and warrior of light

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Straight and somewhat below shoulder length. Most of their hair is black, but slowly changes to blue and white at the tips.

EYES: Dark blue; navy color? Light blue limbal rings that glow in the dark, too.

FACE: Sharp jawline accented by their scales, often covered with some royal blue facepaint similar to Arenvald’s own.

LIPS: Often chapped, but otherwise normal.

COMPLEXION: Ashen brown? Hard to describe bc of weird lighting everywhere they go.

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: There’s a lot, and I might make a scar map at some point??? Major ones happen to be their legs and their left arm; the legs from Ifrit and the arm from Elidibus in Zenos’s body in 4.5

TATTOOS: None, no matter how much people think the facepaint is one.

HEIGHT: Taller than the average Au’ra, about 5’4

WEIGHT: about 135 pounds

BUILD: Muscular, especially due to their main fighting style requiring muscle literally everywhere. Fistfighting for money is no small feat.

FEATURES: Their scales are an odd color (think black and blue borealis dice, but as scales), and their horns definitely look a bit… ragged. Watching them fight will give the odd realization that lightning sparks in cobalt blue come off of them sometimes.

ALLERGIES: Some undetermined fish allergy. Higiri fed them some assorted sushi once and never did again, so the Scions (and themselves) have no clue what fish they need to avoid.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Tied into a loose ponytail at the back. Sanson often comments how they share a hairstyle, but it’s simply from need of clear vision when moving around for monk skills and attacks.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Stoic as all hell. Not used to making full-on facial expressions outside of conversation, so normally looks bored.

USUAL CLOTHING: Tabards, cyclas, or generally something with flowy fabric that doesn’t restrain movement all that much. Metal boots and gauntlets/knuckles are also common, but not always.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S: being the last one standing, change, losing their younger siblings/younger friends, spiders, breaking a promise with their mother.

ASPIRATION / S: To have a proper adventure, and to inspire others to live their fullest lives.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Devoted, comforting, slightly protective, carefree

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Easily angered, impulsive, emotional, stubborn

MBTI: ISFP-T (Adventurer)

ZODIAC: Leo, apparently? Sort of fits, if you look at it closely.

TEMPERAMENT: Some crazy blend between phlegmatic and choleric? Generally carefree and easygoing with friends and willing to spend a lot of patience on them, but unrelenting and downright frightening in serious situations, especially when involving Garlemald.

SOUL TYPE / S: Server/Caregiver

ANIMALS: Birds and dogs.

VICE HABIT / S: Drinking, although the Echo does prevent it from having any effect whatsoever, so its more of a taste thing? Tends to sleep a lot when stressed, and often spends their leftover money on gemstones for their shared collection.

FAITH: Polytheistic; the Twelve and Nhaama are gods they generally believe in.

GHOSTS?: Yes, mainly because they’ve seen one.

AFTERLIFE?: Yes.

REINCARNATION?: Probably, with how they’re sure they’ve seen someone who was supposed to be dead before

ALIENS?: before becoming Warrior of Light, it would be no, but with the revelation of Elidibus on the moon and Midgardsormr and OMEGA‌‌ (ALIEN‌ ROBOT????) they aren’t so sure anymore.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Does not care enough even though they are staunch friends with Nanamo. Didn’t care enough to try and challenge Oktai for the seat of Qestiri Khatun, certainly doesn’t care enough to take a political stance in Eorzea.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Barely any; just enough to read letters written in Eorzean and faintly Ishgardian (courtesy of Alphinaud and Haurchefant).

FAMILY.

FATHER: there was one, once, but he’d rather he be forgotten in pursuit of a happier future. Zaya remembers him as Baatar, but they don’t remember if that was actually his name.

MOTHERS: Erhi, Odgerel.

SIBLINGS: Oktai (older brother), Taban (older sister), Sarnai (sister), Delger and Tuya (fraternal twins)

EXTENDED FAMILY: any of the Scions (former or current) or their fellow Warriors of Light, if we’re talking found family. House Fortemps, Aymeric, Estinien, Sanson, Guydelot, Sidurgu, Rielle, and all of the Qestiri tribe are up there too, but you know, that’s kind of a lot of gifts to be sending around during Starlight. (zaya totally sends them all gifts anyways.)

NAME MEANING /S: Zaya means fate in Mongolian, which all of the other Xaelan names seem to be based on. Their previous name, Dzoldzaya, meant light of fate.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: Recorded history on the Azim Steppe is easily lost, but if asking around the different tribes, one could learn about a rather prominent Qestiri warrior whose image is painted in some of the caverns nearby where much of important, unforgettable Xaelan history is recorded by the Gharl, swathed in blue cloth. In the days of Amaurot, there was one standout Amaurotine who shared a love for lightning and birds…

FAVORITES.

BOOK: They don’t know enough Eorzean to read a full book, not even a children’s book. The Echo doesn’t help with reading. Urianger has read a book of myths and legends that turned out to be true to them, however, and that has been their favorite for a while. They’ve been considering asking him to read more for them, but that’s been placed on hold after the events of the First and following Mt. Gulg.

DEITY: Nhaama, or Rhalgr, if talking to someone who thinks ‘what’s a Nhaama’ when they mention her.

HOLIDAY: Starlight Celebration. Something about the festive mood always makes them happy.

MONTH: August (4th Umbral Moon)

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: On the Source, Reunion in the Azim Steppe just because interacting with other tribes is rather fun. On the First, Il Mheg all the way!

WEATHER: Clear nights where they can trace the constellations, but it isn’t too cold to need a blanket.

SOUND / S: Excited chatter, harp, singing, small hammers clinking against metal.

SCENT /S: Rain, fresh wood, the air in Gridania, light perfume, Syhrwyda’s food.

TASTE /S: Snurbleberry, honey, most Doman seafood, buuz.

FEEL /S: Soft and smooth fabrics, cold metal, the grip of someone’s hand around theirs, wind blowing through their hair on a warm day.

ANIMAL /S: Yol, chocobo (birds!).

NUMBER: 17, for their nameday and the first year they spent in Eorzea

COLORS: Cobalt blue and indigo, pale gold, soot black.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Extremely good when working with cloth or metal; even more so when tinkering little trinkets. Interestingly enough, very good at playing flute and harp without much practice. Expert at pulling a person’s true emotions out with simply body language.

BAD AT: Sneaking around/stealth. Do not, under any circumstance, give them a job involving secrecy or stealth unless you want it to fail. Speaking/reading is also pretty horrible, due to how they were raised. Also bad at taking change or lies well.

TURN-ONS: Loyalty, bravery despite all odds, kindness and love even when it would be easier to be otherwise, being able to understand other beliefs, and a love of freedom or new experiences

TURN OFFS: Lying to their face knowingly, extreme greed, lack of self-worth, anger for no good reason

HOBBIES: making music with Guydelot and Sanson, attempting to keep a journal, idle tinkering, dancing, gardening

TROPES: Good is Not Soft, Hope Bringer, Magnetic Hero, Omniglot, The Power of Friendship, The Quiet One, Silent Snarker, Dark is Not Evil, Five Stages of Grief, Horrifying Hero, Magic Music, Warrior Poet, Dance Battler, Warrior Monk, Determinator, Pintsized Powerhouse, Pragmatic Hero (don’t let me stay on TV‌tropes pls)

QUOTES: have a snippet of some writing?

Scrawled onto a piece of paper underneath his arm in Thancred’s handwriting and marked with Zaya’s name reads, “Your words, no matter how I react, do not change how I love you all.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1: Honestly, I think there would be two movies that could include Zaya; some comedy musical revolving around Zaya’s bard lifestyle while placing their active lifestyle in the background (called “A Bard Knock Life” bc i think puns are cool) or an action drama framed around Zaya and the Scions living some sort of high fantasy/DND type adventure bc I love that stuff called “The Unbroken Thread”. (THAT‌ QUEST‌ NAME STILL GETS‌ ME)

Q2: What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2: Something featuring a flute, probably. I got attached to Zaya playing the flute being a former flute player myself. (I only wish the oboe performance sound bank clicked with me a little more…)

Q3: Why did you start writing this character?

A3: Originally, Zaya wasn’t meant to exist. I was literally planning on just creating A’dewah, Syhrwyda, and maybe Lumelle and Elwin in different roles. Then the Au’ra came out; I‌ used my free Fantasia from the sub rewards just to be an Au’ra (I was a miqo’te before; shh, i was still babu who liked cats) and suddenly Zaya started being formed as Menphina Jewel. Before I knew it, that Menphina Jewel grew a whole backstory and a new name and new friends (Azim Steppe arc of Stormblood MSQ? Final nail in the coffin.) that slowly took over the previous two Warriors as the focus of my attention. I wasn’t even supposed to keep playing FFXIV‌ past HW, dude. I had like a million other things to be doing at the time, but here I am, lying in my grave 3 years later still attached.

Q4: What first attracted you to this character?

A4: They’re (mostly) mute. I really wanted to explore what it’s like to not be able to talk and only converse in body language, but then I discovered that might be a problem, so my interest in sign language collided with Zaya’s backstory. It also helps me work out a personality without them sounding/looking too much like what I think is Basic Story ProtagTM like I tend to do on accident (see A’dewah and Valdis’s dialogue sometimes.)

Q5: Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5: They can’t really speak. Funny how the thing I like most is also the thing I hate most. It’s very frustrating when I want them to convey something and then they can’t without using actual words and a voice because I haven’t got a clue on how to convey that through body language. How in the world do you convey ‘I feel like I’m doing arcanist calculations when you speak’ in nonverbal language??? I have no damn idea and every attempt looks like I meant something else.

Q6: What do you have in common with your muse?

A6: The snark, man. I have friends constantly commenting on how I’ve made a burn without me realizing I’ve done so, and it’s hilarious. The love for music also carried over big time, especially after discovering how fun the bard NPCs were to write and how they’d fit into Zaya’s relationship web. (they’re totally the more comedic side, but I love Guydelot and Sanson anyways.)

Q7: How does your muse feel about you?

A7: No clue, dude. Maybe thinks I’m boring? I don’t tend to want to drastically change things or look for new adventures; the biggest leap I’ve taken in two years is probably changing to a reed instrument from flute, and even then I don’t have to change key when‌ I read music, so it’s not that big a deal.

Q8: What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8: Urianger and Lyse, maybe? I like the exploration of repairing relationships after something that might have ended another, weaker bond. It’s also kinda fun trying to see how Zaya would react; they’re a lot more rash than I am in real life, and that’s honestly saying something. Alisaie and Alphinaud, however, are the most fun just because I know what I’m doing when I write them, and it’s funny to see how Zaya reacts (or has a lack of reaction) to their dynamic. Guydelot and Sanson fall into another category of ‘dear god I simultaneously love and hate these two’, while Thancred, Y’shtola, Urianger, Syhrwyda, Duscha, and Ryne fall into some sort of strong found family vibes that just get me everytime I think about it

Q9: What gives you inspiration to write your muse?

A9:…Doing job quests or side story quests or even MSQ I haven’t caught up on yet. Watch as I slowly rewrite as many MSQ‌ and job quest scenes as I can in any of my Warrior of Light’s viewpoints. (currently chiseling away at some backstory/before they were Warriors stories after reading too deep into the race/subrace text and lore keep an eye out LOL-)

Q10: How long did this take you to complete?

A10: A day or two; don’t remember when I began. It was probably when I was procrastinating on homework, though. I didn’t post it until a week later whoops.

#ffxiv #ffxiv character meme #zaya qestir #whee i wrote a bit much #oh well #zaya cm #tales from the blue

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turtle-paced · 6 years

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Revisiting Chapters: The Soiled Knight, AFFC

Love what this chapter does for the plot and for the discussion of Kingsguard morality. As an introduction to the leading character of a subplot, I’m less enamoured.

The story so far…

Having been sent to Sunspear with Myrcella all the way back in ACoK, Kingsguard knight Arys Oakheart now deals with the local fallout of Joffrey’s assassination and Oberyn’s death in Tyrion’s trial by combat. There’s also the minor matter of his relationship with Arianne Martell.

Sunspear

Welp. This is our first proper trip through a Dornish city, ground-level (cf. Areo Hotah’s PoV to introduce us to Doran and the Sand Snakes), and GRRM chooses to give us this trip through the eyes of an inescapably racist and xenophobic character. Not just someone who might have internalised a few notions of cultural superiority but is still open to learning more and changing their opinions, as Dany was with the Dothraki and Jon was with the Free Folk, but someone preoccupied with and afraid of how different Dornish culture is to his own.

Arys’ position vis-a-vis Dorne is established quickly, when Arys thinks that his father would have been horrified to see Arys in Dornish clothing.

He was a man of the Reach, and the Dornish were his ancient foes, as the tapestries at Old Oak bore witness. […] Dorne was no fit plaee for any Oakheart.

Seems like someone shares those prejudices. If that’s not clear enough, there’s how he describes the action of simply walking through the streets.

He could feel eyes upon him everywhere he went, small black Dornish eyes regarding him with thinly veiled hostility. The shopkeepers did their best to cheat him at every turn, and sometimes he wondered whether the taverners were spitting in his drinks. Once a group of ragged boys began pelting him with stones, until he drew his sword and ran them off.

There is significant feeling against the Lannister regime in Sunspear (I wonder why), and this chapter is important in establishing that that feeling lasts beyond a mob and transcends class in Sunspear. Given that Arys started the chapter by thinking about the murder of a man from King’s Landing, for being from King’s Landing, he’s not entirely wrong to be cautious. Nevertheless, half this complaint isn’t about the streets being unsafe, but that Dornish people have too-small eyes and their merchants are greedy. Later on we get “and their food is too spicy, and their men are too violent, and their women are all wanton.” So, y’know, no matter the dangers here, Arys is most definitely racist.

Arys pushes on through the streets of Sunspear, reflecting that they’re quiet in the middle of the day due to the heat. There’s activity inside, and Arys points out (reliably) that the music he can hear is different to King’s Landing music; included in Dornish music are “finger drums” playing a “spear dance.”

I mean, there’s nothing wrong with depicting a racist character as a racist character, but I do question GRRM’s decision to have the racist character set the tone for Sunspear, and to use him to introduce us properly to one of the few characters of colour who’s indisputably the protagonist in her storyline. It puts a layer between us and this character’s interiority, othering her from the start.

A Child in Danger

Arys is here to guard Myrcella, who is in need of guarding. Despite this, she’s settling into Dorne quite well. She likes Trystane. She likes all the food that Arys has such trouble with. She likes cyvasse, which is now in fashion in the Dornish court. In spite of their differences, Arys’ affection for Myrcella is clear. He worries about leaving her without his protection, even though he outlines the arrangements he’s made for her safety.

Here we learn that Doran wants to get Myrcella out of Sunspear and to the Water Gardens, where he says she’ll be safer. Speaking of, here we get some strong hints that Doran’s not on the level with the Lannisters, in his evasive answers to Arys.

“We Dornish are a hot-blooded people, quick to anger and slow to forgive. It would gladden my heart if I could assure you that the Sand Snakes were alone in wanting war, but I will not tell you lies, ser. You have heard my smallfolk in the streets, crying out for me to call my spears. Half my lords agree with him, I fear.”

“And you, my prince?” the knight had dared to ask.

“My mother taught me long ago that only madmen fight wars they cannot win.”

Then he brings up Elia and her daughter Rhaenys, in a truly heartbreaking fashion, keeping his to-be-revealed motive for his actions firmly in view of the reader.

“Only a beast would harm a little girl.”

“My sister Elia had a little girl as well. Her name was Rhaenys. She was a princess too.”

Ouch. As the conversation continues, regarding the move, Arys realises something.

He is afraid, Arys realised then. Look, his hand is shaking. The Prince of Dorne is terrified.

Soon after that, we learn that Doran convinced Arys not to let the Lannisters of King’s Landing know that they were moving Myrcella out of Sunspear and to the Water Gardens.

It all goes over Arys’ head, but with the benefit of hindsight, we can see several things. One, Doran didn’t lie, and indeed he is as he characterised his fellow Dornishpeople, slow to forgive. He hasn’t forgiven at all. His response to Arys about agreeing with the desire for war was not a no, and with what we learn about his plans, we see that what Doran wants is to change the situation so that he can win the fight. And he’s terrified because he’s double-talking a knight of the Kingsguard and committing grand theft princess, a situation that logically produces some nerves.

Right over Arys’ head.

The comparison here between Myrcella and Rhaenys is explicitly made by Doran. He’s trying to protect Myrcella as best he is able (including, as Arianne says, from the people who would crown her queen), but again, knowing what he wants and what he plans, he’s hardly ignorant of the risks to her.

Arianne

While we’ve seen Arianne briefly in Areo Hotah’s chapter, here we meet her properly. As we’ll discover, this chapter is a bait-and-switch, and she’s the real protagonist of this storyline.

Which is why it’s so goddamn aggravating that she’s introduced in peak exotic-erotic fashion. (She’s not the first, either; Arys passed a sex worker (“pillow girl”) dressed in ‘jewels and oil’ on his way to this assignation.) Naked except for a snake bracelet, goddamn it GRRM. While Arianne’s seduction of Arys is a plot and character point, this scene could have been written so that she stripped down, as opposed to the NAKED! that she is as soon as she’s on page, or GRRM could have given her jewelry that isn’t so linked to the ~foreignness~ of Dorne.

This is, however, a calculated seduction. Throughout the conversation we see Arianne’s efforts to get Arys to stay and listen to her pitch, changing tactics as needed. First, we see that he’s stopped responding to entreaties to forget his duty. Nor does he respond to Arianne’s ‘jealousy’ over Myrcella or any hypothetical other woman. She refuses to have any of Arys’ “I’m protecting your honour” bullshit, telling him straight out that she can tend to her own honour and her own pleasure. An appeal to his masculinity (“where is my brave young gallant?”) similarly fails. Arianne makes progress when she appeals to his love for her and downplays his breaches of duty. What gets him on the hook is chivalry.

It has to be said that Arianne pushes Arys too hard. I’ll discuss his internalised shame in more detail in a bit, but there’s a lot of it, and she doesn’t realise what’s going on in his head until it’s far too late. Her read on Arys was good enough to get him to do what she wanted, but not good enough to realise that she’d gone too far. This will turn out to be devastating to her.

In her brief discussion with Arys over history, we also see a significant weakness in Arianne’s political thinking. Much like Sansa, she relies on songs a little too much, trusting in their depiction of Lucamore the Lusty and the relationship between Aemon and Naerys, without thinking more deeply about the reasoning behind those depictions. This is particularly unfortunate given that the alleged relationship between Naerys and Aemon is one of the founding myths of the Blackfyre cause - the anti-Dornish Blackfyre cause.

While she attempts to manipulate Arys, Arianne’s frustrations with her father begin to show through.

“We are going to the Water Gardens.”

“Eventually,” she agreed, “though with my father, everything takes four times as long as it should.”

“Do you know what my father did when he learned [Arianne had slept with the Bastard of Godsgrace]?” […] “Nothing. My father is very good at doing nothing. He calls it thinking.”

Ultimately, her agenda becomes clear (though not to Arys, not until she spells it out).

“A son comes before a daughter.”

“Why? What god has made it so? I am my father’s heir. Should I give up my rights to my brothers?”

She wants Myrcella crowned. Arianne treads on some dangerous ground regarding the historical argument, since the last time a Kingsguard meddled with succession this plainly Westeros ended up with the Dance of the Dragons. Arianne gets Arys with the appeal to chivalry and honour.

“What would you have me do?”

“No more than you have sworn. Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her…and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.”

She assures Arys that Tommen will not be totally displaced, inheriting both Storm’s End and Casterly Rock, and then she goes for the kill.

“Aegon the Dragon made the Kingsguard and its vows, but what one king does another can undo, or change. […] Myrcella would want you to be happy, and she is fond of me as well. She will give us leave to marry if we ask.”

She goes from “I can look after my own honour and my own pleasure” to this:

“Must I say it, ser? I am afraid. You call me love, yet you refuse me, when I have most desperate need of you. Is it so wrong for me to want a knight to keep me safe?”

As she continues, we see that Arianne fears for her own position, and she’s playing on Arys’ love for Myrcella as well.

“Arys, my heart, hear me for the love you say you bear me. I have never been as fearless as my cousins, for I was made with weaker seed, but Tyene and I are of an age and have been as close as sisters since we were little girls. We have no secrets between us. If she can be imprisoned, so can I, and for the same cause…this of Myrcella.”

Arys’ lack of suspicion is frankly astounding. Earlier in the chapter he was thinking that Arianne’s the sort of woman who despises weakness, and he accepts this change in demeanour quite easily. Arianne goes on to explain that her father has only offered her old men in marriage (never commanding her to take them, but Arianne’s right about the offers), never made her part of the machinery to take care of Dorne’s administration in his absence, and only ever left her to entertain guests.

And then she tells us of a letter she found in her father’s study.

“My father told Quentyn that he must do all that his maester and his master-at-arms required of him, because ‘one day you will sit where I sit and rule all Dorne, and a ruler must be strong of mind and body.’”

She’s taken the initiative and discovered that Quentyn is across the Narrow Sea, and that the Golden Company (who never break their contracts) have broken their contract. Arianne also points out to us that the Golden Company want to go home to Westeros. Having convinced Arys that she really is under threat, she gets his cooperation by appealing to her need for a knight to fight for both her and Myrcella.

“So your two princesses share a common cause, ser…and they share a knight who claims to love them both, but will not fight for them.”

And if the reader’s not suspicious of Arianne’s motives yet, they certainly should be when, after hearing Arys’ pledge of undying devotion, she says, “but first…”

White Cloaks

As Arys walks through the city to his tryst, he thinks on his role as Kingsguard. First he hits us with his reliance on the literal white cloak. He feels naked without it, as he tells us. Then we get the first hints that Arys is having an affair.

I am a Kingsguard still, even uncloaked. She must respect that. I must make her understand. He should never have allowed himself to be drawn into this, but the singer said that love can make a fool of any man.

We men are so weak. Our bodies betray even the noblest of us. He thought of King Baelor the Blessed, who would fast to the point of fainting to tame the lusts that shamed him. Must he do the same?

The next hint of his affair comes in a flashback of a conversation he had with Doran, when Arys has to try not to blush at a mention of Arianne.

But as the Baelor line and the chapter title have already shown us, this is not a healthy relationship. Arys is drowning in shame.

I could die now, happy, he thought, and for a dozen heartbeats at least he was at peace.

He did not die.

His desire was deep and boundless as the sea, but when the tide receded, the rocks of shame and guilt thrust up as sharp as ever.

This is a worrying passage, to say the least. It starts with “oh, damn, I’m not actually dead” and continues through a metaphor that stares down a cliff to the rocks below. After they’re done, he can’t bring himself to accept the post-coital care Arianne offers him in the form of a drink, a comforting touch, or balm for his scratches.

When Arys finally reaches his destination, the room where Arianne told him to meet her, it’s something like thirty seconds before he and Arianne start having sex. Ah, the virtue of self-control! Afterwards, they discuss his honour. Arys, as mentioned above, is deeply distressed by his actions. We get a decent amount of history re: Kingsguard sexual relationships. Arys knows that two of his sworn brothers aren’t keeping their vows. He mentions the historical case of Terrence Toyne, who slept with Aegon IV’s mistress Bethany Bracken, which, ah, didn’t end well. Arianne counters with the comedic song of Lucamore the Lusty; Arys points out that when Lucamore was castrated and sent to the Wall, it was the sixteen children he’d illicitly fathered who suffered the most. Arianne brings up the Dragonknight, alleged lover of Queen Naerys Targaryen; Arys refuses to believe those allegations.

Finally, however, Arianne brings up something Arys didn’t know: Prince Lewyn Martell, of Aerys II’s Kingsguard, and generally agreed to have been an exemplary knight, had a paramour.

That tale Ser Arys had not heard. It shocked him. Terrence Toyne’s treason and the deceits of Ser Lucamore the Lusty were recorded in the White Book, but there was no hint of a woman on Prince Lewyn’s page.

While Arys is in shock, Arianne follows it up with some devastating, and accurate, criticism.

“My uncle always said it was the sword in a man’s hand that determined his worth, not the one between his legs,” she went on, “so spare me all your pious talk of soiled cloaks. It is not our love that has dishonoured you, it is the monsters you have served and the brutes you’ve called your brothers.”

That cut too close to the bone. “Robert was no monster.”

Unfortunately, not only is there the fact that Arianne points out (”Robert climbed onto the throne over the corpses of children”), but earlier in the chapter, we got this little aside.

He prayed Myrcella would find more joy in her Dornish boy than her mother had with her storm lord.

This looks an awful lot to me like Arys is aware of at least some of the domestic issues between Robert and Cersei. How could he not be? Even if he never knew the full extent of the violence (which, given that Cersei hid it from even Jaime, I think is likely), he definitely knew that this was an abusive marriage. Just a reminder to the reader what the Kingsguard stand outside the door for, and a contrast to a young Jaime Lannister. Arianne is not wrong. It gets worse as Arys thinks on Joffrey.

It still shamed Arys to remember all the times he’d struck that poor Stark girl at the boy’s command.

All the times. More than once. Enough that he can’t put a number to it. And the shame and guilt that’s consuming Arys is over sleeping with a consenting partner?

This is the major point regarding duty, shame, and Arys’ faults. Arys has done a lot worse than sleep with Arianne. His weakness is a lot worse than not being able to keep it in his pants - though not saying no when he should does figure into his disgrace.

Chapter Function

A lot, like, a lot, of plot stuff. This chapter gives us the outlines of each Martell’s plot going forwards. Arianne’s the most visible of the three, outlining the Queenmaker plot - crown Myrcella queen to confirm Arianne in her position. There’s also the setup for Quentyn in ADWD, because he is across the Narrow Sea in secret. Only it has nothing to do with the Golden Company, another ADWD-related plot point. Their motivations and actions are introduced here. And finally, Doran. Between his conversation with Arys, the details of Arianne’s education and occupation in Sunspear, and the letter Arianne found, we see the seeds of his plot to take down the Lannisters.

This chapter sets up Arys’ character, but as mentioned before, it’s a bait and switch. While we’ve initially got some character conflict here, Arianne vs Myrcella, love vs duty, the action of the chapter is for Arianne to dictate a resolution to that conflict. Underlying it all is Arys’ guilt, which does not get resolved in this chapter, despite the fact it’s pretty overwhelming when Arys gets any length of internal monologue. That guilt is going to kill him.

This leaves us with the establishment of Arianne’s character. Arys gets glimpses of her strength, but still falls hook, line and sinker to her pretended vulnerability. Though Arys shows a greater knowledge of Kingsguard history in this chapter, and Arianne does not think critically in some ways, she’s still clearly the brains of the operation here. We see some of her capabilities, but what we don’t get are her genuine emotions. Yet.

Miscellany

As the first line of the chapter tells us, Dorne is unseasonably cool for autumn at this point.

Arianne, as we find out in the description of her naked body, is not a slender woman - she’s got big boobs, curvy hips, and a rounded stomach.

When Arys thinks she is tearing me apart, does anyone else think that’s an intentional shout-out to The Room?

Clothing Porn

Arys wears layered linen robes, an outer robe with turquoise stripes and rows of golden suns, and an orange inner robe.

Food Porn

Grilled snake with sauce made with venom (maybe - this is Arys we’re talking, I don’t trust him to give us reliable info on Dornish cuisine), dragon peppers (no clue what type of peppers they are nor what type of heat they provide), and mustard seed.

Next Three Chapters

Reek III, ADWD - Jaime VI, AFFC - Sansa VI, ASoS

#ASoIaF #revisiting chapters #arys oakheart #arianne martell #doran martell #myrcella baratheon #a feast for crows

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menskoolsposts · 2 years

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Fabulous Plus Size Fashion Ideas For Coming Fall & Spring

Almost everyone in today’s world is now familiar with plus size fashion. The best part is people understand why a person needs to shop at the plus size store and the reason behind it is not always obesity.

Being a plus size woman in this world of size zeros is a task. in a place where everything is designed to please the majority of the crowd, it’s difficult to get your way. Nevertheless, what fun will it be if there isn’t a little struggle? Luckily, this struggle is now on the verge of disappearance since a lot of plus size fashion brands are making their way towards you!

Now, even if we have to struggle, at least we can do it wearing great ensembles. We can now face our issues in the face and tell them that they can’t sit with you! But again, for the people who don’t understand if they qualify under the women’s plus-size fashion category or not, we got your back!

What does plus size fashion mean?

“Plus-size” is a broad term that refers to women’s and garment sizing. So what is the definition of plus size?

Plus-size fashion clothing might be difficult to quantify in stores. Some departments consider a size 12 to be plus-size, while others consider a size 14 to be plus-size.

Should size matter?

Yes and no, because there is no such thing as a black-and-white response. Sizing might be a bit of a grey area, but it is important to think about in terms of health implications. Sizing, on the other hand, must not reflect how women acknowledge and embrace their physique.

Con: Obesity is becoming more prevalent

Overweight or obese people account for two-thirds of the population in America. This is centered on the body mass index (BMI), which is a measurement of body fat that takes into account both height and weight (mass).

Type 2 diabetes, heart disease, and other health concerns are all increased by having a high BMI and being overweight. An “underweight” categorization, on the contrary, may be linked to malnutrition or even aid in the diagnosis of an eating disorder.

Pro: All-inclusive modeling is on the rise

The fashion and apparel industry is moving towards all-encompassing branding. And models like Ashley Graham are proving that beauty isn’t defined by size.

Read: 8 Myths About Plus-Size Fashion That You Need To Debunk Today!

A reinvented branding strategy is assisting in the dilution of stigmas associated with being slim and the elimination of potentially risky procedures to achieve this goal. Because what a woman considers little may appear to be healthy, but it isn’t always.

Plus size fashion clothing tips for fall

Style yourself with elite sophistication and class even in winters. Why should style suffer while keeping you warm? Here are the latest plus size fashion ideas for fall-

Plaid winter poncho cape

When the weather isn’t quite chilly enough for a full-fledged overcoat, throw on an easy cloak over a denim chambray blouse. Pull-on tights with a high waist level out the fullness, while classic accessories like flat equestrian boots and a saddle bag round off the equestrian appearance.

Jewel-toned leather jacket

Give your black jacket a rest and replace it with a leather jacket in a deep jewel tone to brighten up your denim and sneakers routine. Wear with ragged hem stretch jeans and a cozy tie-dye hoodie. After all, your outerwear is going to be the most visible piece for the next three months, so make the most of it.

Sweater sets

The use of matching sets eliminates the need for guesswork when getting dressed. Combine the ribbed knitted midi and open-front wool coat for a more stylish look, or separate them for a different look. The simple suit is complemented by ankle shoes and shimmering gold Huggies.

Double-breasted blazers

A fitted tweed blazer will keep you looking stylish. When paired with high-rise jeans and a baguette handbag influenced by the 1990s, the jacket becomes less granny and much more French girl chic.

Plus size clothing ideas for spring

When you’re finally done with the winters, you gotta gear up to stock your wardrobe with spring necessities.

Plaid

Plaid isn’t going out of style anytime soon! This spring, add accessories like florals, fur, and ruffles to render this perennially popular look more modern.

Embellished denim

Denim that has been dressed up is a great method to refresh your look. Stitched, embroidered, patched, or beaded plus size denim will liven up your casual style.

Florals

Overlook those leaves, it’s all about blossoms! Feminine floral prints might make you long for romance. You’ll fall in love comfortably with the beautiful ideas of bringing out your girly side soon.

Jumpsuits

Love the overall look? Spend more on jumpsuits! They are cute, classy and chic, and they even make you look great on your casual brunch!

Silky fabrics

In the spring and summer, we love to experiment with smooth fabrics and sultry silhouettes. We feel the most secure in these fabrics, which may be used to create ideal date-night outfits.

Famous plus size fashion models

With the growing emphasis on body positivity, we can see that a number of plus-size fashion models are making their way into the industry. Wanna know more about who did it? The top 3 plus-size models in the industry are:

Also read: 9 Chic And Comfortable Fashion Trends

Ashley Graham

This plus-size diva was found at a model and talent conference when she was barely 12 years old. She began her modelling career with a small local agency, then moved to the mega-agency Ford Models shortly afterwards. Ashley has worked with everything from editorials and fashion shows to Television commercials and films ever since.

Tara Lynn

Tara Lynn had always been self-conscious of her physique as a size 14/16 as a child. She didn’t come to terms with her figure until she was in university. Then, full of optimism, she summoned the bravery to stroll into a small modelling agency in Seattle, where she was immediately signed. She has modelled for H&M and made it on the cover of Glamour magazine.

Robyn Lawley

Robyn struggled to obtain employment as a plus-size model in Australia as an adolescent. She went to audition after audition but was always turned away as she couldn’t fit into the teeny-tiny sample outfits. Her body physically couldn’t achieve the look demanded by mainstream modelling, despite attempting every dieting regimen in the book. Her career didn’t really take off until she stopped tracking calories. Chelsea Bonner of Bella Model Management found her and gave her a new perspective on modelling, assuring her she was great just the way she was.

Read: The Body is Beyond the Numbers: Plus-size Clothing Brands For Women

As the financial benefits of plus size fashion become more generally recognised and promoted, it’s reasonable to expect more luxury and high-street labels to invest in and support the creation of plus-size sections to complement their present collections. Overall, the future of plus-size women’s fashion appears bright, and we can expect more inventions and improvements as the business grows in the next few years.

#Woman - Stories

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uneminuteparseconde · 7 years

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Des concerts à Paris et autour

Septembre 12. No More + Plomb – Le Klub 12. Cabaret contemporain – Mona Bismarck American Center (gratuit) 13. Maulwürfe – Centre Barbara-FGO 13. Housewives + Les Hôpitaux + La Bordelle – La Mécanique ondulatoire 13/14. LCD Soundsystem – Olympia 14. Arnaud Rebotini + The Hacker + David Carretta – Rosa Bonheur (gratuit) 14. Nursery + Brandt + Fumo Nero + Rape & Revenge – La Pointe Lafayette 14. K-X-P + Acid Baby Jesus – La Station 14. Siege + Break Out + Pendrak + Cyclicweetos – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 15. Ko Shin Moon + Maud Octallinn – église Saint-Bernard de La Chapelle (gratuit) 15. Cocaine Piss + MSS FRNCE + Bracco – Espace B 15. Frustration + Dick Voodoo – La Station 15. Api Uiz + Darfour + We use Cookies – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 16. Helen Money + Mums + Irk + Fleuves noirs – Olympic café 16. Mykki Bianco + Cakes Da Killa + Gnučči – Trabendo 16. Iggy Pop + Cheveu & Groupe Doueh (Fête de l'humanité) – Parc Georges-Valbon (La Courneuve) 16. Aleksi Perälä + Acronym + Iori + Blndr – La Machine 16. H880 + Manni Dee + Murd + Scalamerya + Subjected – Docks Eiffel (Aubervilliers) 17. La Cabine : cinéconcert sur "Mimesis" + Hélas – La Station 17. Les Hôpitaux + Lingua Nada + Bitpart – Espace B 18. Bleib Modern + IV Horsemen – La Mécanique ondulatoire 19. Julien Desprez & Arnaud Rivière + Thomas Bonvalet & Jean-Luc Guionnet (fest. Maad in 93) – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 20. Widt + Diposition Matrix + Ghost Milkers + Blason – Treize 20. Spiral Stairs – Petit Bain 21. Ennio Morricone – Bercy Arena 21. Claire Bergerault + Mark Fell & Will Gurthrie (fest. Crak) – Eglise Saint-Merry 21. Rubin Steiner & Daniel Larrieu – Centre des Arts (Enghien-les-Bains) (gratuit) 22. Tomoko Sauvage + Onceim & Jon Tilbury + Hanna Hartman (fest. Crak) – Eglise Saint-Merry 21. Sylvain Courtoux + Joachim Montessuis + Lucien Suel – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 22. She Past Away + [Qual : ANNULÉ] + Ash Code – Petit Bain 22. First Hate – Supersonic 22. Elen Huynh + Matthias Puech & Antoine Madet + Design Default – Le Génie d'Alex 22. Lydia Lunch + Joachim Montessuis + Eric Andersen, Ramuntcho Matta, Michele Gazich & Inge Bakkenes + Frank Rynne – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 22. Ron Morelli + Svengalisghost + Antenes + Behzad & Amarou + Rag Dabons + Ohes... – Concrete 22. UVB 76 + Dr Rubinstein + Théo Muller – La Machine 23. Jon Gibson's Ensemble + Eddie Prevost & John Tilbury + F Pierce Warnecke (fest. Crak) – Eglise Saint-Merry 23. Sheik Anorak + Spook – La Pointe Lafayette 23. Stephen O'Malley + France & Richard Francés – La Maroquinerie 23. [Martial Canterel : ANNULÉ] + Holygram & Adam Usi + Bootblacks – Le Klub 23. Stéphane Marin & Pali Meursault – Le Cube (Issy-lès-Moulineaux) 24. Jessica Moss + Besoin Dead + Gneiss Rock – Espace B 24. Jeroen Search + Regal + 14anger + Hemka + Öspiel + Kairos + Scry + Fred Hush – plage de Glazart 27. Sigur Ros – Grand Rex ||COMPLET|| 28. J. G. Thirlwell : "Cholera Nocebo" – Fondation des Etats-Unis (gratuit) 28/29. Sigur Ros – Grand Rex 29. Tim Hecker + Gas + Midori Takada + Prurient + Pan Daijing (Red Bull fest.) – Palais de Tokyo 29. The Black Angels + A Place to Bury Strangers – La Cigale 29. Scaffolder + None + Sathönay – Espace B 29. Rebeka Warrior + Front de crypte + Da-Sein + Godzilla Overkill – La Station 29. I-F + Zadig : "Kern Space Adventures" + Kassem Mosse + John Heckle + Hanna Haleta – Concrete 30. Ujjaya – librairie Publico 30. Lene Lovich – Gibus 30. Ufomammut + Usnea – La Boule noire 30. Zombie Zombie + Marie Davidson + Not Waving + Soft War (December b2b AZF) + Simon Cell b2b The Pilotwings + Voisky présente "Disconnections, music for Clouds" (Red Bull fest.) – La Marbrerie (Montreuil) 30. Nova Materia & Latetitia Sadier : "Du point de vue des pierres", d'après Tristan Garcia (Red Bull fest.) – Nouveau Théâtre de Montreuil 30. Function + Dasha Rush + Marcelus + Gëinst – Concrete

Octobre 01. Spectres + Pura Mania + Youth Avoiders + Pierre & Bastien – La Mécanique ondulatoire 01. Sparks – Gaîté lyrique 03. Kiku, Blixa Bargeld & Black Cracker – Centre culturel suisse 03. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Zénith ||COMPLET|| 04. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Zénith 04. Ben Frost + Julien Desprez + Walter Dean + Parquet (Biennale Nemo) – Le Trianon (gratuit sur résa) 04. Whispering Sons – Espace B 04. Melt Banana – Batofar 05. Jozef Van Wissem – Espace B 05. Marietta + En attendant Ana – Petit Bain 05. Anna Meredith + ToutEstBeau (Biennale Nemo) – théâtre de Vanves 06. Black Zone Myth Chant + Tomoko Sauvage + Felicia Atkinson + Carval Tarek – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 06. Rebekah + Endlec – La Machine 07. Charlemagne Palestine (Nuit blanche) – musée d'Art et d'Histoire du judaïsme (gratuit) 07. Beth Ditto – Bataclan 08. Arto Lindsay – La Bellevilloise 09. Project Pitchfork – Petit Bain 10. Futuroscope : cinéconcert sur des films du Bauhaus (fest. des cinémas différents) – Grand Action 10. Carbon Sink + Belmont Witch + Gauchoir + Sissifioul – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) (gratuit) 12. Peter Kernel & Their Wicked Orchestra + Tiny Feet + Adam H. – Petit Bain 12. Mlacoler Culkin + Rouge Gorge + Passenger of Shit + Tabatra$h (Serendip Lab fest.) – Les Nautes 13. Zëro + Heliogabale – Batofar 13. Part Chimp – La Mécanique ondulatoire 13. Shifted + Artefakt + Giorgio Gigli – Concrete 14. Forest Swords (Biennale Nemo) – Badaboum 14. Wardruna – La Cigale 14. Elsiane + Jad Wio – La Java 14. The Pilotwings + Goto80 + Constance Chlore + Bill Vortex + Tryphème + Franck Gérard + Sauk from Mélodies souterraines (Serendip Lab fest.) – Les caves Lechapelais 14. Bas Mooy + Clouds + Verset Zéro + Yan Kaylen + Paulie Jan + Terdjman – La Machine 14. Eloïse Descazes & Eric Chenaux + Le Fruit vert – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 14. Totorro + Faire + Julien Gasc – théâtre Antoine-Vitez (Ivry/Seine) 17. Unsane – Petit Bain 18. Soft Kill + Minab + Dead – Supersonic (gratuit) 18. Richard Francès & Konpyuta + Cycloptik + Sneakhead (Serendip Lab fest.) – La gare XP 19. Nosfell – Café de la danse 19. Robin Fox & Sean Baxter + Thomas Ankersmit (Biennale Nemo) – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 20. Gary Numan – Trabendo 20. Mattias Aguayo & The Desdemonas + La Mverte + Casse Gueule – La Maroquinerie 20. Otto Von Schirach + Distorsion tropicale + DJ Diamond 999 (Serendip Lab fest.) – Petit Bain 20. Bogdan Raczynski – Batofar 21. Jarboe + Father Murphy – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 21. Hypnobeat + Josh Cheon + LAAM + CIA débutante (Serendip Lab fest.) – L'Esplanade 23. Mogwai – Grand Rex 24. The Dream Syndicate – Centre Barbara FGO 25. Rinji Fukuoka & Michel Henritzi + Trou aux rats + Yves Botz & Bruno Fernandes + William Nurdin – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 26. N.M.O. + Aufgang (Biennale Nemo) – Hasard ludique 26. King Dude + The Ruins of Beverast + (D O L C H) – Petit Bain 26. Cent ans de solitude + The Dead Goldfish Ensemble + Club Dilletante (Serendip Lab fest.) – Gare XP 26. Sete Star Sept + Maria Bertel & Mariachi – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 27. The Breeders – Gaîté lyrique 27. MoE + Dead + Chafouin – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 27. Don Vito + La Confraternita del Purgatorio + Bob Cooper – La Comedia Michelet (Montreuil) 27. SNTS + W.LV.S (The Driver vs Electric Rescue) + Minimum Syndicat + Hemka – La Machine 27. Paula Temple + Blawan + Len Farki + Thurman b2b Julian M. + Avalon Emerson + SHDW & Obscure Shape + Madben + Maxime Dangles + Mark Höffen + Präri (Big Bang fest.) – Les Docks de Paris (Saint-Denis) 28. Peter Hook & The Light – Le Trianon 28. Jerusalem in my Heart + Oiseaux-Tempête, Mondkopf & G.W. Sok – Centre Barbara-FGO 28. Big Brave – Gare XP 28. Delacave + Ventre de Biche + Le Prince Harry – Gibus 28. BlackNox + Cocoon + Paradis Noir + Super Stoned (Biennale Nemo : Optical Sound) – Le Générateur (Gentilly) 28. Spacelex + Waterproof + Botine + Musique chienne (Serendip Lab fest.) – Wonder/Liebert (Bagnolet) 29. Omar Di Bongo + Raymond IV + Sacré numéro + Couloir Gang + OKO dj + Opaque (Serendip Lab fest.) – Wonder/Liebert (Bagnolet) 30. Boss Hog – La Maroquinerie

Novembre 02. The National + Ride + Chassol + This is the Kit + Moses Sumney + Mina Tindle + Ethan Lipton & his Orchestra + Kevin Morby (Pitchfork fest.) – Grande Halle de La Villette 03. Jungle + Kamasi Washington + Polo & Pan + Isaac Delusion + Sylvan Esso + Cigarettes after Sex + Andy Shauf + HMLTD + Rejjie Snow + Tommy Genesis (Pitchfork fest.) – Grande Halle de La Villette 03. The Residents : In Between Dreams – Centre Pompidou 03. Amelie Lens + Anetha + Präri – Rex Club 04. Run The Jewels + Talaboman + Badbadnotgood + The Blaze + Bicep + Sigrid + Princess Nokia + Jacques + Loyle Carner + Tom Misch + The Black Madonna + Sônge (Pitchfork fest.) – Grande Halle de La Villette 06. John Maus – La Maroquinerie ||COMPLET|| 07. Godspeed you! Black Emperor – Elysée Montmartre 07. Max Cooper – Gaîté lyrique 08. Zola Jesus – Point FMR 08. The Wedding Present plays "George Best" – Petit Bain 08. The Horrors – Trabendo 09. Annabelle Playe (Biennale Nemo) – Le Cube (Issy-lès-Moulineaux) 10. Red Zebra + Pour X raison – Supersonic (gratuit) 13. Liars – La Maroquinerie 14. Shannon Wright – Gaîté lyrique 14. BJ Nilsen + Thomas Tilly + Les acharnistes – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 15. Igorrr – La Maroquinerie 16. NSDOS + Watchin' with Milesdavisquintet ! (Biennale Nemo) – La Dynamo (Pantin) 16/17. Kristoff K.Roll : A l'ombre des ondes (fest. d'Automne) – La Pop 17. Trisomie 21 + The Saint-Cyr + Rendez-Vous – La Machine 17. Dälek – Batofar 17. Transglobal Underground feat. Natacha Atlas + Asgaya – Le Tamanoir (Gennevilliers) 18. Essaie pas + Nova Materia + Colombey – La Maroquinerie 18. Kristoff K.Roll : A l'ombre des ondes (fest. d'Automne) – La Pop 19. Ulver – La Machine 19. Agnostic Front + Bishops Green – Gibus 21. Sun Kil Moon – Gaîté lyrique 21. Metz + Decibelles + Drahla – Trabendo 21>24. Pierre-Yves Macé & Joris Lacoste (festival d'Automne) – Espace Pierre-Cardin 22>25. Carl Michael Von Hausswolf + Ensemble Ire + ErikM + Benjamin De la Fuente + Robert Piotrowicz + Annabelle Playe + Julien Ottavi + Jean Philippe Gross + Lancelot Hamelin + Alexis Forestier + Hugo Darcier + David Leon + Sylvain Levey + Remi Checchetto + Mariette Navarro le Werktank... (fest. Bruits blans) – Anis Gras (Arcueil) 23. Clan of Xymox + My Great Blue Cadillac – Bus Palladium 23. Modeselektor (dj) + Tijana T + Simo Cell – Rex Club 24. Emma Ruth Rundle – Espace B 24. Laibach – Trabendo 24. Arnold Dreyblatt + Prescott + Borja Flames (BBMix fest.) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 24. Zombie Zombie + Aufgang – Le Tamanoir (Gennevilliers) 25. Stranglers – La Cigale 25. Mount Kimbie – Trianon 25. Mark Lanegan – Café de la danse 25. Protomartyr – La Maroquinerie 25. Etienne Jaumet, Peter Kember & Céline Wadier : La Monte Young Tribute + Colleen + Accident du travail (BBMix fest.) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 25. Dynatron + Christine + Mlada Fronta – La Clef (Saint-Germain-en-Laye) 26. Quator Tana joue "Mishima" de Philip Glass – Collège des Bernardins 26. Ropoporose + Die!Die!Die! – Batofar 26. James Holden & The Animal Spirits + Groupshow (Andrew Pekler, Jan Jelinek & Hanno Leichtmann) + Paalma (BBMix fest.) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 27. Marilyn Manson – Bercy|Arena 28. Chapelier fou – Le 104 28. John Zorn & Abraxas + Autoryno + Garth Knox – New Morning 30. Simon Fisher Turner : The Picture from Darkness (Biennale Nemo : Optical Sound) – Le Cube (Issy-lès-Moulineaux) (gratuit)

Décembre 02. Frustration + Komplikations + Plomb – La Clef (Saint-Germain-en-Laye) 03. Depeche Mode – Bercy|Arena 15/16. Éléonore Auzou-Connes, Emma Liégeois & Romain Pageard jouent "Musiques de table" de Thierry De Mey – La Pop 08. Punish Yourself – La Maroquinerie 12. Zayk + Hyperculte – Centre culturel suisse 12. Snap + Martin Meissier : Field (Biennale Nemo : Optical Sound) – La Dynamo (Pantin) 15. Jessica93 – La Maroquinerie

2018

Janvier 30/31. Pierre-Yves Macé & Joris Lacoste (festival d'Automne) – L'Apostrophe (Cergy-Pontoise)

Février 03. Nils Frahms – Yoyo|Palais de Tokyo ||COMPLET|| 15. Franck Vigroux & Laurent Gaudé : "Le Chant des ombres" – L'Ecam (Le Kremlin-Bicêtre)

Mars 07/08. Ryuchi Sakamoto & Shiro Takatani (Dumb Type) : "Dis.Play" – Maison de la Culture du Japon 23. Pierre Henry + Anabelle Playe + John Chantler + Bill Orcutt + Anthony Child (Présences électronique) (Présences électronique) – Maison de la radio|Studio 104 24. Else Marie Pade + :such: + Bellows + Phonophani + The Caretaker (Présences électronique) – Maison de la radio|Studio 104 25. Jacques Lejeune + Chris Corsano + Ben Vida & Marina Rosenfeld + Mads Emil Nielsen + Gravetemple (Présences électronique) – Maison de la radio|Studio 104

en gras : les derniers ajouts / in bold: the last news

#agenda concerts #concerts à Paris #gigs in paris #paris gigs

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morphdragon-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter 1: Welcome to Fairy Tail!

The dark robed men of the guild Shade Fire walked calmly forward after their base was destroyed. Their dark guild was run off from the port town they were now passing through by a group of incredibly strong mages - bastards, they called them - who fought for Jewel alone. They didn't fight for the "greater good" they always claim but instead just want to be paid for being monsters, but then again what room did they have to judge? Among the robed men was a boy, about 13 in age, who was taken in at youth and taught extensive Dark magic. His raven black hair flopped casually down his pale face and obscured vision in his piercing red eyes. He didn't have a name or a family until Shade Fire took him in, and even now he feels like he's still as alone as before. His gaze fell to the enchanted bindings on his wrists and ankles and followed the chains to the men in front of him. A pawn, they called him - his life for their freedom. If only he knew why they turned on him, maybe it could all be avoided. He sighed and slowed in pace, earning a swift kick to the spine. "Hurry up brat, before I turn you into a nice trainin' dummy!" Now he seethed in pain and exhaustion as they walked him like a mutt on a leash to the endless plains and forests ahead. "Why me? What did I do to you to deserve this?" The boy wanted to cry, but the tears never fell from his eyes. The robed men stopped walking and as one man handed of the chains, he angrily punched the boy in the gut. He laid on the floor, gasping for air, when he felt more and more blows on his chest, arms, neck, and legs. He heard cracking and felt like vomiting when the first blast shook his teeth. Instinctively flinching away made the boy safe as large spells hurled forward and blasted away his former comrades. His breathing was ragged when he saw three sets of feet land. One wore army boots and a long flowing jacket, the other wore high heels with fishnet pantyhose and a flask of liquor, while one wore tight jeans and boots with black iron studs. His blurry vision and muffled hearing made it hard to distinguish powers, names, or even friends and foes before he felt hands on him, gently helping him stand. "He's in bad shape..." "Not the worse we've seen,.." The voices sounded feminine and kind, and slowly he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. ----------------------------------------------------- By the time he awoke, he was in a warm bed surrounded by flowers and a single boy. "The boy's awake!", the golden haired teen shouted. The voice was familiar to the teen, as was the coat. "You... you saved me..." The blonde turned in surprise and smiled brightly. "Well you needed help so me and my team came to the rescue! Name's Octavius, but you can call me Tate." He held out a hand that the boy shook gently. "What's your name?" He went to answer but stopped and looked down sadly. "What's the deal, don't have one? Don't worry not many kids from guilds like yours do. It's sick really." He felt tears wet the bandages on his hands as he held his palms to his eyes and wept. "B-brat. They named me Brat." Tate growled. "At least they got what they deserved." He boy looked up and wiped a stray tear away. "What now? Where will I go? I don't have a name, a family, or any type of skills..." He looked to the wall as the door opened calmly. "We heard you shout. So did Dad, so we had to fight our way here - literally." The girl's voice was sweet and gentle. Looking over, he saw the girl with pearly white hair smiling at him sweetly and a brown haired girl tilting her head back and chugging a small glass of amber liquid. "You were there too..." The white haired girl nodded curtly and spoke. "I'm Lillianna Dreyar, but everyone calls me Lilli. That's my brother Tate, and this is my good friend Freya Alberona." Frets threw up her free hand in a friendly gesture as he returned a smile to her. He looked up at the group and out the window behind them. Darkness greeted his gaze as Lilli spoke beside him, not seeing him be enthralled by the starry night sky outside. He remembered, in that moment, the one thing he always was a part of; Shadows. He slept in them, used them in magic, and dreamt of becoming one to escape the horrors of life. Lilli stopped speaking and looked out the window. "You know, there's a myth that says the night sky is the goddess Nox blanketing the world, her child, for a night's rest? It comes from an ancient civilization in Fiore called Riannem and it's very beautiful." Her whimsical smile was infectious and soon the teen felt happy, a feeling he had forgotten of for many years. Tate's face lit up as he shouted. "That's it! That'll be your name!" Freya looked at him, obviously confused. "We're naming the guy? Doesn't he have one already?" He shook his head sadly. Tate smiled to himself. "Nox, I like the sound of it! You'll be my closest friend, Nox Riannem!" The boy looked up in shock and laughed slightly at Tate. "Nox Riannem..." He repeated to himself. "I like it." With a big smile, Tate held out a hand to Nox. "Welcome to Fairy Tail!"

#fanfiction #fairy tail

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icenineporcupine · 7 years

Text

“Lonicera Paellax”

Ignis/Aranea (FFXV) | 3.2k words | I’ll tag it M but it doesn’t really deserve it

Authors Notes: Oh god, there wasn’t enough content for this ship so I made some??? Have 3,000 words of Ignis over-intellectualizing the entire universe, and Aranea being her generally sassy self. Pre-Altissia. Canon compliant where there’s actually canon to be had. Vague musings of Iggy’s backstory. Allusions to Aranea/Ravus.

“So what is this plant we’re hunting for, again?”

“Lonicera Paellax.”

“Great. Got anything more helpful than that, Ivory Tower?” Aranea’s voice was a taunting barb a few paces behind him as they picked their way through the beach rose and scrub pine of the Vannath sea-cliffs. “I’m not writing a dissertation. I’d just like to be able to spot the damn things before I’ve crushed them all to hell. These boots aren’t exactly ballet shoes, you know.”

Ignis smirked. Of course he new that the scientific name was useless in their current context, but he liked the sound of the words… and maybe the sound of her frustration.

“Colloquially, it’s better known as the Dawnshy Honeysuckle,” he clarified. “It’s a small flower of white, blush, or yellow—long and thin as a bugle, with five pointed petals resembling a star. Its season spans mid-April through late July, but it only blooms at night. I expect we’ll have some competition from the fruit bats.”

“Better bats than demons,” remarked Aranea, dryly. “It must make one hell of a syrup, if you’re willing to lose sleep to hunt for it.”

“The prince enjoys it with his breakfasts. And I can think of far less savory—or sweet—reasons I’ve lost sleep of late.”

She didn’t reply to that, and he hadn’t exactly expected her to. Still, any opportunity to bait her for information had to be taken. He couldn’t make heads or tails of their current situation: a seasoned dragoon on Niflheim’s payroll, and the chief advisor to the Lucian heir, making idle horticultural chitchat on a midnight hike.

He endlessly replayed the last half-hour in his head as they climbed. They’d left the others back at camp. Noctis and Prompto had more-or-less been asleep during dinner, and they’d quickly passed out afterward without lifting a finger to clean the dishes. Gladio had at least tidied up after himself, but after that he’d quickly retreated into his latest reading material. It was some pulpy spy-thriller they’d picked up at the last convenience store, but he seemed to be enjoying it, and Ignis wasn’t one to look down on a man for reading. So, with a soft sigh, he’d stooped to pick up Prompto’s overturned drinking glass and a plate of Noctis’ overlooked vegetables, and begun the task himself.

Aranea easing in beside him and reaching for the dishrag had been unexpected. He’d figured she would leap at the opportunity to remove herself from Prompto’s constant and adolescent flirtations. Frankly, he wouldn’t have blinked if she’d slipped off into the trees and abandoned their party entirely.

But there she’d been, drying the dishes as he washed them, and they’d fallen into an unexpectedly comfortable silence. She’d removed the heaviest of her armor, retaining her boots and belt atop a simple black leather ensemble, and Ignis couldn’t help but notice how much smaller she seemed without all the freakish spikes, and perhaps softer, too—but no less cryptic. As she’d taken each plate and cup from him, he kept glimpsing a jewel on her wrist: polished amber with some bit of flora or fauna trapped within. Something about it unsettled him—he felt like he was noticing for the first time, every time he’d spotted it.

“You own more cookware than weaponry,” she’d goaded. “Do you plan to fight the empire with forks?”

“A well-fed warrior is a better weapon than any blade he or she might wield,” mused Ignis. “Surely you’d recognize that.”

“Of course I would, but you can feed just as well by shoving a pig on a spit and tearing off chunks with your teeth. No cutlery required.”

“If you’re into that sort of thing…” he’d allowed, carefully.

“I’m into all sorts of things, specs,” she replied, opaquely, but when he’d risked a glance in her direction she didn’t return it.

When they’d finished with the dishes, she’d dropped casually into a chair across from Gladio and resorted to wiping the day’s blood off her lance. He’d belatedly realized she was still using his dish towel, and he must have sucked a breath through his teeth, because she’d met his eyes and seemed to know exactly what she’d done to distress him. But she’d made no move to apologize.

He’d spent a few long moments staring into the fire, restless in his rolled shirt-sleeves, and wondering if the atmosphere felt as tense to either of his companions. Finally, maybe out of desperation, he’d announced his plan forage for culinary garnishes on the hillside.

Gladio had simply nodded with a grunt, turning the page of his book. But Aranea had cast the now ruined rag to the ground, gripped her weapon with renewed resolve, and rose from her chair, asking if he’d mind a little back-up.

He certainly didn’t mind. It helped that Aranea was a great deal more than a little back-up. Three days ago she’d taken them by surprise while they were already being taken by surprise by demons near Costlemark. He’d wanted to be furious with Dino for even suggesting they visit the cursed ruin, but he grudgingly accepted that there was likely a royal weapon within, and Noctis’ need for the Lucian Armiger outweighed the danger of the jeweler-journalist’s ulterior schemes.

Ultimately, he’d only been furious with himself for not preparing better for the inevitable fight.

But she’d bailed him out of his miscalculations, descending from the sky like some Valkyrie of ancient myth, and driving her pole-arm swiftly through the largest demon’s throat. As it fell thunderously face-first into the dirt, Noctis had whooped in glee, and Prompto had squealed like child in admiration. Even Gladio had uttered a hearty hell yeah! But Ignis hadn’t taken the time to gloat. They’d needed to finish off the rest of the demons while they had an advantage.

That didn’t mean that the image of her arrival hadn’t burned itself upon his mind, though. Every so often it would occur to him again, like an unexpected flash of something that strangely resembled hope.

“You spoil him, you know.”

Her comment shook him from his meditation. He slowed and turned to face her, and the lamp on his belt tossed its lurid, green-yellow glow upon her. She threw an arm across her face with a curse at the sudden brightness, but then slowly lowered it, squinting at him as she met his gaze.

“Prince Noctis has suffered much in his short life, and if the current circumstances are any divination, he still has many more trials to survive. Cooking is one of the few ways I can grant him respite from that destiny. You didn’t have to accompany me.”

“I wanted to,” she replied, simply. Her eyes were the misdirecting, mossy green of garden stepping-stones, and her face lay as passive as the moon casting its light across Angelguard to the east. If she’d been chastised by his words, she didn’t show it, and any ill-will he might have fostered toward her seemed to hang in the air, suddenly unsure where to aim itself.

Why. His mind screamed. Why are you here? He had to know, but he knew better than to ask. A tactician never admitted to the question in his mind; the question was a weakness, to be concealed and mitigated through other means.

Something swooped between their faces, shattering their stalemate and sending them both ducking. She grabbed hold of his wrist to steady herself, and it shocked him so much he nearly stumbled himself.

“The hell?” she hissed.

“Fruit bats!” said Ignis, and right then he’d never been so relieved to see them. He righted himself and sent a hand through his hair. “We must be close! Let’s follow them.”

“Ugh,” she said. But she met his stride as they pressed on through the brush, chasing the barely-there silhouettes of tiny, winged devils against a carpet of constellations.

“So, who taught you to cook?” she asked, after awhile, “You’re very good at it.”

“My mother, originally,” he replied, “And eventually the royal chef and his staff.” He ended the sentence with a full-stop, careful not to sound wistful or uncertain, to leave no vulnerability exposed, and yet—

“What happened to her?” she asked, instantly, and he grit his molars.

“She was among the casualties of Niflheim’s original invasion of Tenebrae,” he said, “—as was my father, before you inquire further.”

“Didn’t mean to pry,” she said, “I’m sorry…” and she sounded so completely genuine in her apology that he nearly shuddered. That couldn’t possibly be right. Of course she’d meant to pry. He huffed a sharp sigh.

“There’s not much for you to be sorry about. It was before your tenure with the Empire, after all.” He made the comment lightly, but he thought he caught her grimace from the corner of his gaze. Maybe he was just fooling himself. “And honestly, aside from the recipes, there’s not much I remember of either of them. I fled Tenebrae with my Uncle, a diplomat, and we received asylum from the late King Regis. I’ve trained in his court ever since. A simple story, really.”

“Nothing juicy to tell the Emperor, you mean?”

“I mean, it’s a simple story—and a very simple sentence, in fact.”

She laughed, and it was a surprisingly soft thing—nearly a silent thing, like the flutter of the bat wings they followed.

“I was orphaned too—well and truly orphaned at that; no extended family,” she confessed, after a beat, “though I’m sure you’d already worked that out in that brain of yours.”

I haven’t worked out a single thing about you.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“Are you?” she asked, almost amused at the thought. And for a moment he was struck with a vision he hadn’t prepared himself for. Aranea Highwind, as she might have been were she raised in the same halls as he. Fierce and free-spirited, but dressed instead in Kingsglaive fatigues, she vaulted recklessly off the top of the Insomnian citadel, only warping to her lance just before she hit the ground. She landed perfectly before him, and pushed the spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a fingertip, grinning wickedly.

He mimicked the imagined gesture with his own fingertip, and frowned.

“I am. I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m sorry you were fostered by a furnace so foul as Niflheim.”

“It wasn’t all bad. At least not at first,” she shrugged, but she was hugging herself a bit as they continued, and he didn’t think it was because of the evening chill.

“All the same,” he said.

After some time, they finally found what he’d come for: a cluster of rocks near the top of the hill, bursting with honeysuckle vines. The blooms were easy to spot in the moonlight, and a hint of fire—trick of Lucian elemancy Ignis had tucked away in his satchel—soon made short work of their Chiroptera competition.

With the last of the magic, he lit and handed Aranea a torch to keep the bats from returning, and knelt to pluck a bloom from the vine. He unstoppered a glass phial and drained the nectar into it. But instead of immediately reaching for the next specimen, he paused, and spun the little flower between thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re contemplating giving that to me, you should know I’m not a flowers and candy kind of woman,” Aranea teased over his shoulder.

Ignis smirked, pulling a small burlap sack from his satchel and depositing the flower there instead. He hoped the fire wasn’t bright enough to reveal the way his cheeks had burned at her words.

“They brew a decent cup of tea,” he explained, moving along with his harvest now, meticulously collecting the dewy liquid and leftover petals. “And if you aren’t wooed by flowers, what should I make of the cuff on your wrist?”

The fire flickered abruptly, as though she’d recoiled her hand in surprise.

“What do you make of it?” she parried, and his stomach took a slightly sour turn. He continued his work as he spoke, flatly:

“A single sylleblossom, embraced by amber and framed in embroidered leather. Sable leather. Lovely, but contrary to the rest of your aesthetic. A well-meaning yet misguided gift, I should think -- from a well-meaning yet misguided Tenebraen suitor. Tell me, how long have you been seeing Commander Nox Fleuret? And what is the true nature of the errand you’re running on his behalf?”

Almost definitely too bold. What's gotten into you? He half expected her to drive her lance through his neck, just as she’d done with the demon. Some royal strategist you are.

“There are a hell of a lot of Tenebraen boys besides the High Commander,” she laughed, instead of killing him. “You, of anyone, should realize that.”

“Perhaps, but not many Tenebraens would encounter you, in your current occupation, and fewer still possess the assets required to negotiate with you.”

She huffed a defeated noise, and he chanced another glance over his shoulder. She was looking out across Galdin Quay, toward the place where the sky met the sea. The breeze licked at the flames of the torch in her hand, and her pale pewter hair.

“You’re a sharp one, specs. I gotta give you that,” she said, after a moment.

“It’s my job,” he replied; it was almost a reflex.

“Oh, I know. But not everyone is competent at their job,” she said. “It’s actually pretty rare.”

“If you think that flattery will—”

“For the record, I saw Ravus for maybe a year,” she cut in, turning back to him. “You pretty much summed him up: well-meaning but misguided.”

“And yet you still wear the bracelet.”

“Harder to misplace it if I keep it beneath my bracers,” she shrugged, snuffing the torch in the dirt beside her feet. Apparently she’d decided it was no longer needed. “I thought I would give it to Lady Lunafreya, after I see Noctis safely to Altissia, as a show of good faith from estranged brother to sister.”

“You expect me to believe--”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” said Aranea. “You’re way too smart for that.”

His head was spinning. He put the stopper back on the nearly-full vial of honeysuckle nectar and tucked it away in his jacket, for fear he would drop it.

“If that’s been your motive for accompanying us this whole time, why not just say so.”

“Who says Ravus is the only person I answer to?”

Ignis took off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars.

“You think I’ll just wait around, with Noct’s life in the balance, with the fate of the world in the balance, until Ravus and Ardyn Izunia conclude their bidding war for your allegiance?” He replaced his glasses and his free hand crept to the hilt of his dagger, easing it inch-by-inch from its sheath. “That’s not a risk I’m comfortable with.”

“Actually,” she said, so close behind him that he nearly flinched. So much for those boots not being ballet shoes, he thought, absurdly. His knuckles ached for how hard he gripped the dagger, but a moment later her fingers found his -- a soft, cool caress -- and coaxed him to abandon his defenses. “I was hoping you’d outbid them both, and settle things outright.”

Her nose brushed his earlobe as he turned his head toward her.

“Me,” he said. He hoped he sounded skeptical and not stunned silly, which was closer to how he felt right then. “With what funds, exactly?” he laughed, “I am Noctis’ advisor, not his treasurer. And the majority of Lucis’ wealth lies lost in the rubble of the Insomnian citadel. I have nothing to offer you.”

She laughed, and it sent lightning through him, head to foot. “Ignis Scientia, born of the lofty spires of Tenebrae, sharp as his daggers, wise-beyond his years. In the war rooms of Niflheim they whisper that he carries the weight the world and the life of the future King upon his shoulders, yet he never dreams of slouching. They claim he’s a master of history, military strategy, astronomy, anatomy, medicine, and the culinary arts. And yet he hasn’t the damnedest idea why I followed him up this hill in the middle of the night...”

“To be frank, I’d been betting on murder,” muttered Ignis, his mouth suddenly very dry. She slid her hand around his bicep and he was turning toward her in spite of himself. “Although, I hadn’t ruled out sheer boredom --”

“Shut up, Stupeo,” she whispered, and kissed him.

And oh, for the love of Etro, he’d had the damnedest idea. He’d known the entire evening, since she’d met his eyes across the fire, since she’d hovered at his side as he’d cooked, since they’d first pulled into camp. He’d known since she fell from the sky three days ago, backed by the afternoon light like an angel. He’d known and he’d insisted that he didn’t. Because this was madness. This was outright stupidity. Outright treason. He couldn’t trust her.

But he’d taken one look at her when they’d first skirmished, weeks ago, and for the first time, his mind had dared begin a sentence with I want, instead of Noctis needs. And right now, with his lower lip caught in her teeth, and her fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt, his entire body had resolved to finish that terrifying sentence as swiftly as he could.

---

“Seducing the strategist would be the best way to ensure Niflheim gets what they want from Noctis,” muttered Ignis, darkly, nosing through Aranea’s hair. At some point they’d wandered back down the hill to the campsite, but they’d opted for a spare quilt and the embers of the fire over the crowded comfort of the tent. The stone was hard beneath Ignis’ back, but it made the press of her body seem all the softer. “You’ve made a fool of me—are you pleased?”

She hummed idly, pressing a kiss to his throat and smoothing her hand against his chest.

“You know, I’ve never actually said I am working for the Chancellor. That’s been you.”

“Right,” said Ignis, yawning. “Of course. A completely baseless assumption on my part, I’m sure.” He was tired, but not beyond the capacity for sarcasm.

“Maybe I just have a crippling weakness for Tenebraen accents kept on short leashes by heads of state.”

He snorted, and brushed his fingers down her spine.

“We’ll see which of us winds up crippled from this whole affair,” he replied.

“Are you always this morose after you get laid, or do I need to try harder?”

“You’re welcome to try anything you like,” he admitted. “Short of putting me on a spit and tearing into me with your teeth, if your earlier comments are to serve as a benchmark.”

He pinched her thigh, and she squawked a curse and swatted at his hand.

“Quiet now,” he teased, “Don’t want to wake the children.”

“Make sure to keep telling yourself that,” she laughed, and slid down his body beneath the blanket. She left a trail of tiny kisses across his stomach, followed swiftly by the sensory deluge of her hair against his skin. If this is what all the philosophy texts meant when they said keep your friends close and your enemies closer, then he felt he’d done pretty damn well for himself.

#(please come suffer with me)#I haven't written a fanfic in 5ever #I just really love them verbally mindfucking the hell out of each other #ffxv #ignea?#ignis x aranea #ignis/aranea #it's from my days in milan boys #maybe somebody will come suffer with me?#my fic #oh god I wrote a fanfic #sorry I don't have an Ao3 so it's just going to hide here and rot #sorry it kinda just ends? idek #uhhh hi #what have I done #ignis scientia

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[FN] [HR] Haunted Remnants

The lake stretched out before me. Its blue waters sparkled in the afternoon sun. On the far bank, it was flanked by high mountains, their sharp peaks crowned in a layer of white. In the middle of the lake resided a solitary island, its surface covered in a thick bush of trees and vines. That was my destination. Somewhere on that island, the sepulcher containing the amulet was hidden among the greenery. The surface of the glassy water was smooth. Not a single ripple disturbed its surface. Checking that my backpack was sealed and waterproof, I got into the water and swam towards the island.

The swim was easy. I glided across the surface and reached the island with little effort. I pulled myself up onto its high banks using the exposed roots ringing it. Drying off in the warm sun, I stayed on the edge for a while. I drew my machete from my bag. The vegetation covering the island was unnaturally thick. Every potentially empty space was clouded with vines and branches. One couldn’t see more than a foot or two ahead. The sepulcher was there, I just didn’t know where. I didn’t even know what it looked like, I just hoped that I would know it when I saw it. The tomb was most likely resided in the middle of the island, so using my machete, I cut a path through the mass of choking greenery.

The work was arduous and slow. The sun was setting, and I hadn’t made much progress. I continued on. There was a full moon out, but the oppressive thickness of the greenery diluted the pale light to just shifting patches of color. I worked mostly by feel, chopping ahead of me and looking back every so often to ensure that my path was straight. As I progressed, the vegetation began to thin out. The moonlight cast through it with greater light and the whole scene was cast in a pale moon glow. Ahead of me, I saw a clearing through the trees. Pushing through the last remnants of branches and vines, I stumbled out into a clearing. Ahead of me, cast in a white light from the moon hovering above, the tomb revealed itself.

There was no headstone or monument. It was a stairwell leading down into the earth. A marble circle, darkened from grime and exposure, encircled an opening with a spiral staircase that descended into darkness. Around this structure the dirt was bare. The grass and weeds died away, and around the marble circle was only dirt and the carcasses of plants. The dead organic material hadn’t decayed, it just laid where it had fallen, wilted and dried from the sun. I walked up to the opening in the earth. Looking in, the moonlight only reached so far. I saw some marble stairs, glowing in the moonlight, then only blackness. I couldn’t see the bottom. I pulled a torch from my backpack and lit it with a match. The warm light of the fire comforted me. Soaked in the yellow light, I stepped onto the marble stairs and descended.

The torchlight illuminating the way, I walked further into the earth. The white stairs and walls were smooth and pristine, seemingly untouched by the withering effects of nature. The tomb must have been at least a few centuries old. It seemed a miracle that it was in such good condition. This part of the world has been abandoned for hundreds of years. As I spiraled downwards, the moonlight faded, and I was left alone with the fiery glow of my torch. There wasn’t a sound outside my footsteps. The hum of insects disappeared, and I was submerged in the echoing rhythm of my walking.

As I proceeded further into the bosom of the earth, the words of the hermit who led me here flooded my mind. The myth of the crown and this tomb. In a time long past, the King of these parts had a secret concubine, selected from his flock of servants. Enraptured by her beauty, he took her to bed and put a child into her. He loved this woman and her unborn child, more so than he loved his wife. Fearing the loss of her beauty to time, the king went out into the mountains to find a man who was rumored to reside there, a man who knew the secret to enchanting. A man who could gift his secret love with everlasting life. Supposedly, the king found this man and had him craft an amulet that would hide his love from the withering attack of age. Their union wasn’t meant to last though. Upon returning to his home, the king found his concubine murdered along with their unborn child. The Queen had discovered the affair and became jealous. Stricken with grief, the King had a tomb built for his lost love and disappeared into the wilderness. At the time, I dismissed this story as the ramblings of a mad beggar. One hears lots of wild stories in their travels. But subtly it took root in my mind, and a few years later, I left my home to find this amulet. I was able to track down the beggar and, through some miracle or divine intervention, he knew the exact location of the trinket.

As I continued downwards, the air took on a rancid note. The pristine marble stairs became worn and the walls developed a green film. I stopped and felt the walls, holding my torch close to examine the change. They were slimy. A newfound dampness caused droplets to fall from the bottom of the stairs above, and the green slime corrupted the gleam of the walls. My fingers left a trail through the filth. Wiping my hands on my pants, I turned away and walked onward.

The structure took on a more sinister note the deeper I got. The corruption progressed. The green slime turned black and a putrid mist clogged the air. Roots forced their way through the walls and loose dirt and grime coated the stairs. I had to slow my approach and hug the wall to avoid slipping on the scum and tumbling to the bottom of the shaft. Spores of some kind clogged my lungs, causing me to begin coughing uncontrollably. Taking a length of cloth from my bag, I held it over my face to filter out the miasma. Stopping, I held my torch out and gazed out over the edge of the steps. The bottom was in sight. It was submerged in a layer of filthy water, the whiteness of its marble barely shining out of the oily substance. I finally got to the bottom of the staircase and stepped into the still water. The stench was putrid. I stood for a while, trying to hold back my retching. After acclimating, I held out my torch and looked around the bottom of the shaft.

III

Through the mist gathering on top of the thick water, I could barely make out an opening in the wall. It was a jagged hole, just large enough for a man to squeeze through. Wading across the knee-high water, I entered the portal and entered a large room. The mist poured through the opening and dissipated in a thin layer across the water coating the floor. The stench became more concentrated. My eyes watered and it took all of my willpower to stop myself from running out of the room for fresh air. It was unbearable. The whole room was soaked in the smell of rot and mildew, both mixing into a rancid cloud that permeated everything. The rag over my face ceased to filter it out. I took it off and tossed it into the water. After some time, I adapted to the smell and its effects diminished.

The roof of the room extended beyond the range of my torch. Above me was a black void. The walls of the room were bare stone, lacking any adornment. The comforting gleam of marble was gone. In its absence was an oppressing blackness, rendering me blind of my surroundings. I held my torch out to see the other end of the room. It was just out of sight. Sloshing through the oily water, I walked towards the end of the room. A human figure emerged from the darkness; its figure unwavering at my approach. It was a statue. A statue of a woman, life sized, and carved out of black stone. Both of her hands were outstretched and in her palms was an object glittering in the torchlight. I came closer and gazed into her hands. There, unfouled by the dampness and the miasma of the room, was the amulet. A simple golden chain with a single large purple jewel attached at the end. A faint aura emitted off it. As I reached out and touched the jewel, a tingling sensation shot up my arm and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I looked up into the face of the black statue and it gazed back, its glare unwavering. Hesitation consumed me. Something this valuable must be guarded by something, but as far as I was aware, I was the only thing in the room. Picking it up could trigger a trap though. I planned to snatch the amulet from her palms and run towards the stairs, hoping to avoid any hidden mechanisms.

I grabbed the amulet and dashed back towards the portal into the room, splashing the foul water all over my clothes. As I ran, my foot caught in a divot in the floor, and I stumbled, managing to stay above the water but dropping my torch. It fell into the water and extinguished. I was submerged into complete darkness. Without any time to stop and search for it, I continued towards the back of the room and managed to find the entrance by feeling along the back wall. I left the room and stumbled my way up the first couple of stairs, hugging the wall to keep from falling off them.

I half crawled my way up the stairs. I was still too deep for the moonlight to permeate. The stench and filth of the shaft no longer registered for me, I was wholly intent on getting out of the tomb and across the lake with my prize. A noise echoed from behind me. I stopped for a moment and listened to identify its source. There was a sloshing in the water below, almost as if something was wading through it. The sloshing was replaced by the sounds of footsteps on stone. Something was on the stairs! Fear shot through my body. I resumed my climb with added vigor. The sounds of me shuffling up the stairs were augmented with the distant footsteps of my pursuer.

Finally, the light of the moon began to seep in, and I could see again. I withdrew from hugging the wall and sprinted up the stairs. The moss and mold gave way to clean marble and my footing was firm. I ran onwards into the light. Behind me, the footsteps came closer. Whatever was chasing me, it was gaining ground. I dared to glance back for a second as I fled. In the shadows flanking me, I could just make out a shadow, nothing definite, but an unmistakable black mass coming up the stairs. I ran on up the stairs, embracing the pale light of the moon with a waning sense of security. The footsteps came closer and closer behind me. The hairs on my neck stood up and a fierce tingling coursed down my spine. I was shivering. Whatever was chasing me was just behind me, almost within grasping distance. We ran up the stairs, my pursuer still gaining ground.

I stumbled and tripped on one of the stairs. I splayed across the marble, falling on my face and losing any chance that I had. Its footsteps stopped. It was right behind me. The thought of being dragged back down into the dark mists below threw me into a fit of uncontrollable fear. In desperation, I threw the amulet back over the side of the stairs towards the landing far below. I got back up and ran back up the stairs towards the relative safety of the soil above. There were no more footsteps following me. Exiting the tomb’s entrance, and without looking back, I ran back down the path that I’d cut through the trees and launched myself back into the dark water surrounding the island.

I swam all the way back to the mainland without looking back towards the island to see if my attacker was following me. I never stopped running until I reached the nearest town, basking in the safety of other humans. The amulet was lost, laying somewhere in those corrupted waters deep within the earth. I never dared to find out what was chasing me, and honestly, I don’t ever wish to find out. Something about that place was sinister. The amulet had corrupted everything around it. Faced with the touch of that evil being, I gladly threw away the only known path to unending life in order to save myself. That island is cursed, and no one should ever return to it.

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