I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!
1000 words later? Whoops
Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]
Bloom
“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.
“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.
“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.
“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”
Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.
“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”
He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.
Trahearne wished there was another way.
“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?
“Strike now or—“
Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.
Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.
“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.
“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.
Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.
“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.
There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.
If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.
Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.
All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.
Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.
Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.
Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.
The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.
Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.
Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.
It had to be.
He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.
Traherdremaneth.
It didn’t matter, really.
He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.
He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.
His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.
He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.
He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?
They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.
The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.
The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.
He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.
There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.
It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.
He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.
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Csptaineer art request 5. admiring them from afar
dear anon, I know you asked for art but I had intended these as writing prompts! however!! I may doodle something for this later anyway, because it's cute :3
and still, never do we tire of watching stars glow
head engineer mark x reader (the captain) | words: 877
For as long as you'd known him, he'd always had a certain look of awe about him when it came to space:
When you were kids, huddled up in blankets watching a documentary about The Solar System while you shared a bowl of cookies.
And as teens, laying side by side in the dry summer grass, gazing up at the stars dotting the sky, laughing and pointing out constellations and making up stories about what it would be like when you got to be among them.
And as cadets, the first time you voyaged beyond Earth's atmosphere.
Now the Captain of a ship he'd built from the ground up, it took you by surprise when you looked up from your data tablet one day to see him gazing at you with that same look of wistfulness and wonder.
His expression lasted for the briefest moment before he registered that you'd seen him, eyes widening and cheeks flushing almost imperceptibly from this distance. He immediately averted his gaze to anywhere but yours, busying himself with whatever he could.
You let out an amused huff, an incredulous yet flattered smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
It was far from the first time you'd caught someone giving you a starstruck or near-mesmerised look, especially within your own crew. But for him to be the one staring like that? The same admiration and fascination that you'd seen in his eyes when he beheld an eclipse, or a meteor shower, or your new home planet, directed at you…?
You couldn't deny the small flutter in your stomach, or your heartbeat slightly quickening its pace.
You brushed off the thought and continued working, but from then on you couldn't help but keep noticing the awe and longing when he looked at you, whether it be from across a room or in conversation. It made you wonder if this was a recent phenomenon, or if you had simply been blind to it for a long time.
It was one of those moments of catching his warm, starlit gaze in which you were caught off-guard once again.
You met his eyes with the same intensity once you realised he was watching you, raising your eyebrows slightly to get his attention. He looked embarrassed and a little taken aback, as he always did in such scenarios, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he decided whether or not to abandon ship. Instead, his mouth curved into a smile that crinkled his eyes with fondness, followed by a quick wink.
Now it was your turn to look surprised.
It's not that the gesture was out of character or that he couldn't be bold when he wanted to. You just hadn't expected it now.
Later, you found it in you to be direct.
‘What's with all the staring lately, Mark?’
His eyes widened at the question. It wasn't particularly like you to be so upfront about something like this.
You watched as your head engineer’s expression turned apologetic and a little guilty, like he'd been caught red-handed.
‘Uhh- I'm sorry. Am I in trouble, Captain?’
You giggled quietly. ‘Nah. I never said I minded, just wondering…’
He visibly relaxed at your response.
‘Oh, well in that case. To be honest, Cap, it's sorta hard to look away sometimes.’
You felt your face flush at this, but were given no pause to utter a reply even if you’d had the words; he continued quickly, as if just realising what he'd said aloud and in the same moment deciding to fully commit to speaking his mind, before he could let himself back out.
‘I just- I love seeing you doing your job, you look so happy and assured. And proud — of everyone you work with, proud that you're part of the team. You're always so willing to help out and listen to what everyone needs. And watching you take command of a situation- You just– you have this aura that screams that you belong here, this is what you were meant to do, and you have a positive effect on everybody around you. We're so lucky and grateful to have you as our Captain.’
And here you are, stunned into silence for a moment.
He stands there, trying to gauge your reaction, a little flustered himself but steadfast in his confession.
You feel a little giddy, but take a breath to soothe your racing heart, finally composing yourself again as the smile you can no longer hold back paints your face.
‘Thank you, Mark. That's… that's really sweet.’
He grins. ‘Just being honest.’
‘And I feel exactly the same about you, by the way.’
He tilts his head in confusion.
‘Watching you in action, it's the same.’
You can see it in his eyes when it clicks.
‘Wait, Captain, are you saying you-’
‘Almost as much as you,’ you chuckle. ‘Except I don't get caught. You could definitely use some improvement in that area.’
He looks away, smile becoming sheepish, the tint on his cheeks you are sure matches yours from only moments ago.
‘But… like I said,’ you speak up again, drawing his attention back to you. ‘I don't really mind. It is kinda cute seeing your reaction when I catch you.’
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