#tetra but i kept her brown
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Fun Design Details and Random Facts about My Links
Sage (BotW): Conceptually post-botw2 so they have longer hair with a more gingery tinge and they may or may not have a prosthetic/ magic limb, when we get more info about botw2 I’ll probably figure it out lmao. Anyway they’re the magical guy bc they keep the Champions powers and was affected by dying so they can talk to ghosts and do other minor necromancy, also they’re a skilled elixir maker and food enchanter and general little witch guy. Color scheme is generally blues and teals and greens but they also wear a lot of pink and red bc in game they look pretty good in it. Has a big pretty green cloak that's heavily embroidered bc they seem like the type. What is a big cloak but a cool fantasy comfort hoodie.
Guardian (AoC): A major part of his design and backstory is that he’s half sheikah. He has patches of white hair and a section of red in one of his eyes. He generally wears the normal sheikah stealth armor or the sleeveless turtleneck body suit bc he likes to be flexible. He has a dark teal/ blue sheikah forehead tattoo, but in his original design I had the idea of putting the tattoo on his mouth. so that when he opened it the eye would open but it was too complicated so I decided against it. His color scheme is blues and purples and grays and that muted bronze of sheikah armor. This version of the champions garb is a scarf-cape ie LU Warriors. Doesn’t always wear it as it gets in the way an is kind of impractical. It looks pretty cool though.
Captain (WW): A big part of his design change is that I wanted to give him darker skin but keep his sun bleached blonde hair, as I feel like more people of the great sea should be less white. He spends so much time in the sun that it’s a mystery how he was supposed to be so pale. He also has a lot of freckles and subtle scars. He wears some of Tetra’s princess Zelda jewelry, like the little ear wings and anything else pretty. He turned his old green cap into a little scarf/ bandana because there’s no way he would fit in the outfit now. This guy is kinda tall, at least for a Link. I liked his little swirly belt buckle so I kept that and gave him Linebeck’s coat to add to the pirate aesthetic. His color scheme is greens and blues and golds and accents in jewel tones since he wears a lot of jewels. He also wears smudgy eyeliner and dark eyeshadow.
King (SkSw): You know that cool iridescent metal that SkSw Zelda has as the main material for her jewelry? Well King is absolutely decked in it. It’s what his loftwing shaped crown is made out of and he has jeweled rings and a necklace all made out of the stuff. He has a serious wing motif, there are wings on his clothes and new sword and that’s not to mention the crown. Hylia always had a bird thing going on so King is really playing into that. He has his loftwings feathers as a shoulder piece and his sailcloth was turned into more of a sash-cape. Looks very roman. Color scheme is reds and purples and humble warm browns. He doesn’t like looking too fancy all the time but he definitely dresses a little more extravagantly than the average Hylian.
Hunter (TP): He’s the type to wear a lot of leather armor, a good balance of protection and flexibility, as his job is literally monster hunting he decided to invest in something like that. Has a full wolf pelt tied around his waist and I kinda want to give him a skirt like that one concept art. Maybe that’s just what he wears whenever he isn’t in full armor lmao. His hair is gradually turning black due to the prolonged use of twili magic. He has the markings on his face and thighs that mirror his wolf form but they only show up at night and they glow because i think that would be cool. He has a kind of shaggy mullet and a grumpy vibe but has a surprisingly dadly quality about him. His color scheme is mostly neutral with blacks and browns and greys but with a bit of the classic forest green and bronze chainmail. Yes he has fangs, are you surprised?
Hero (OoT): Wow this guy almost looks normal, sure he wears a little more green than the average person and tends to wear tights while on horseback, but he’s not one for armor or anything too crazy. Okay, he wears his golden gauntlets when it’s convenient but is generally not too crazy with his design. His hair is long enough to be in a low ponytail and is nice and normal. I might add some white hair despite him being in his early twenties. That all changes when he puts on the FD mask though. I’m planning on making the markings that come from that be more complex than just thick lines and making them glow bc it should be unambiguous how powerful this guy is. I mean, it’s still the same guy, he just kicks more ass. It lowers his voice and makes him astronomically strong. It’s really hard to actually hurt him and he’s taller and generally pretty terrifying.
General (HW): I’m gonna be honest, his design is really giving me some trouble. I’m not sure exactly how to make him interesting while still staying true to the character. I could go full Camelot type medieval knight but I’m not sure that feels quite right. I could make his era more based around Elizabethan England, so I can give him funny hair and give the royal court some tutor type drama but I’m not quite sure. In any case, his life is full of hiding in the castle whenever he’s able to, to avoid stalkers, and doing his best to combat manipulative royal courtiers that he doesn’t tell the Queen about because he doesn’t want to become a problem. His color scheme is vibrant royal blues with orange accents. Bright colors are only for the fancy people and the General is nothing if not fancy.
#HSFR#HSFR Sage#HSFR Guradian#HSFU Hero#HSFR Hunter#HSFR Captain#HSFR General#HSFR King#Heroes Spirit Family Reunion#Links meeting au#my links meeting au#zelda#zelda au#loz#botw#hw:aoc#hyrule warriors#oot#loz: tp#loz:botw#legend of zelda#twilight princess#ocarina of time#majoras mask#skyward sword#sksw#wind waker
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Daemonicus (3)
Charios slowly opened his eyes, his detector caught a faint voice, high pitched but soothing.
Lying on a cold cement ground, inside a space darker than ink, an unknown source of light from the sky of void shone down, like an actress under the spotlight.
Charios kept blinking, but the light static didn't fade away in his sight.
Only then did a warmth wrap the back of his head softly.
Charios glanced up, a woman was staring down at him. Her face blackened as her apricot hair blocked out the spotlight.
"... Ms. Kiesel?" Charios said.
She put a finger in front of her smile and mimed. As she placed both her hands on his cheeks, her face inched to Charios closer and closer, until her nose almost touched his face.
Nothing. There was nothing there. Her eyes were gone. Why were her eye sockets covered with skin? What was this place? Was he dead? Was this hell, heaven or purgatory? No, it couldn't be.
The Lieutenant was next to him, right? Where was the lieutenant? The incident had ended, he thought. Who was this? Was she his owner? Was she alive? No, what was she?
The woman snatched the robot's neck. Charios snatched her hands back and squirmed away, but no effort could move her arms nor his own body. So many thoughts shrieked in his mind, only to drown themselves in the sight of the faceless woman. Charios screamed. He shot up and head-butted her face. A loud clang echoed the space. He paused and turned around.
"Oh god. I'm sorry, Ms. Kori—!"
The lieutenant was lying on the floor and covered his face, grunting.
"Lieutenant?" Charios approached him, but he paused again.
Then the relief washed over him.
Café.
Mahogany tables and chairs scattered around, four green leather couches settled at a corner, facing each other and omitting a wooden bitter across the room.
A small bar leaned against the pastel brown wall, displaying thermometers, coffee grinders and tamp mats at front and liquor shelves behind.
The large windows wrapped around him and the furniture, showing the afternoon street with people strolling in and out of the market square a few hundreds feet away.
The café reminded him of his old home, although, three times fancier. But it's close enough.
"Dang it, what's your head made out of?" The lieutenant shouted, dragging his attention back.
"... Kevlar, steel, and ceramics, sir."
"I didn't ask for an answer!"
Charios blinked twice. The lieutenant stood up and dusted off his military coat and sighed.
"Never mind. What's more concerning is your current conditions. Can you check your own status?" The lieutenant crossed his arms. "I mean, you are a robot."
"Certainly." Charios said. A series of blue holographic text boxes, graphs and pie charts flashed in front of them, coming from the robot eyes.
[Internal systems: Normal]
[External gadgets: Partially damaged]
[Outer shell: Partially damaged]
[Database: Normal (15 petabytes/2.5 exabytes)]
[Temperature conditioner: Partially damaged]
[Internal temperature: Normal]
The list went on and on, until one sentence grabbed his full attention.
[Mental stability: Null]
Null?
Charios had never seen such term during his maintenance sessions. In fact, the word "mental" shouldn't exist inside his program. It could be another malfunction like the hallucination he's in, or the hallucination itself might have caused it. This kind of snowballing factors would prove to be out of control sooner or later if he didn't fix it right away.
Meanwhile, the lieutenant plugged a cotton ball in his nostril and turned to Charios, who had been staring off for ten minutes. He cleared his throat, pulling Charios' attention back to him.
"My name is Barbus, Barbus Aeneva, lieutenant of Tetra Military Force and captain of the 37th Division." Barbus held his hand out.
"... We've introduced each other already, Lieutenant."
"I see..." Barbus nodded. "If that's the case, let's go. I'll show you around the Third Row."
"The Third Row?" Charios blinked twice. "Where are we, Lieutenant?"
"We're in the mainland."
[ o ]
Strolling down the street with practiced ease and a cotton ball on his nostril, Barbus's sapphire braid whipped behind Charios as he barked orders at passing vendors of all kinds, from scrum-faced to newbie. The Third Row emerged in front of him. A chaotic symphony of sights and smells assaulted his senses, the kind without guitars and singing like from Parasis Bay, but the endless shouts of bargain. Barbus glanced back at Charios.
"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it," he said. "This is the heart of the Kingdom of Tetra. You'll find anything here—exotic foods from the cuisine street and Piazza Egerfest, the latest gadgets from Division 11 North side, or even a good brawl by the docks if that's your fancy, but you have to go around The Third Row and walk through The East Gate down to The First Row, understand?"
Charios rubbed his face.
"Though with your current patchwork repairs," he added, gesturing toward the dents on Charios's limbs and head, "I wouldn't recommend it."
"What do you mean by rows, Lieutenant?"
"Think of Capitolus like a five-tier wedding cake. You're at the bustling Third Row, but you're too short to see the whole thing."
Charios swept the braid off his face and walked beside Barbus. "What about Division 11, Lieutenant?"
"A Division is a part of the Trooper System. It's not complicated, but it's too important to be generalized for now. I'll explain it in full detail when time comes." He glanced back at Charios, "By the way, I think you already realized there are barely vehicles on the streets."
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"It's because of the legislation against public transportation, so get used to walking, especially around Noelene Street, where our café is."
Charios stopped walking and looked up.
"What's up there, Lieutenant?"
"... There?" Barbus followed his gaze. "... People."
Beyond the clamor of the street, the higher tiers of Capitolus rose like a mirage. Towering buildings, some crafted from gleaming white marble, others clad in shimmering metal, pierced the lower layers of clouds. Thin wisps of steam curled from unseen vents, hinting at the bustling industry that thrived above. A line of yellow and black flags guarded around the cliff of the tier above, which Charios assumed to be called The Fourth Row. The promise of luxury, power, and perhaps even danger hung heavy in the air, just out of reach for now.
[ o ]
After being shown around, Charios checked over his bedroom as night fell.
To call the room minimalistic was an overstatement—a single bed, a single window, a single desk.
There used to be blood on his body, but by the time he woke up, he was cleaner than those curtains in front of him. Perhaps Barbus gave him a wipe.
Charios sat on the edge of the bed and did not bother to turn on the lights. He peered out the window door, The golden lights glimmered the evening streets behind the steel balustrade.
The distant chatters of the citizens and the merchants overshadowed the isolated trumpet of the only bar at Noelene Street, a white noise total opposite of the Bay.
"The Golden Castle, huh?"
The Third Row of Capitolus. He's now in Capitolus, right in the heart of the kingdom.
He'd always wondered what's out there. How different and beautiful it'd be compared to the island. Now that he saw it, it was alien.
Charios glanced at the table near the window door and walked over. He opened one of its drawers to find a wooden box of blank papers inside. As dusty as they were, they hadn't yellowed and stayed intact.
He flattened a paper on the table with his forearm and sat down.
Reluctantly holding a notch on his abdomen, he twisted it. With a series of pneumatic sighs, Charios's torso cavity unsealed, revealing a container full of half-burnt music sheets.
A dark cube sat inside.
He took a mechanical pen and an inkwell out of his cavity, the only scent he could sniff from them were smoky iron.
Blood.
Charios took a deep breath and refilled the pen.
"... What now..." the moment the tip of the pen touched the paper, words streamed out, "... Ms. Kiesel?"
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I posted 2,562 times in 2022
That's 1,892 more posts than 2021!
31 posts created (1%)
2,531 posts reblogged (99%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@godtasteslikecherrycoke
@salvation-within-the-void
@lav3nd3rfag
@miceandmonsters
@a-lavender-boy
I tagged 1,890 of my posts in 2022
Only 26% of my posts had no tags
#q - 758 posts
#petals violation - 359 posts
#dark aesthetic - 320 posts
#lovecore - 250 posts
#tetra - 158 posts
#animals - 122 posts
#mental health - 122 posts
#nature - 120 posts
#midnight violation - 115 posts
#flowers - 95 posts
Longest Tag: 138 characters
#was confused pre knowing system cause my family was made i kept changing and i woukd be like dafuq i went she/her to ze/zir thats 1 change
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
How beautiful
Is not a heart
Two hands joining
Together
Beating as one
4 notes - Posted January 3, 2022
#4
"Super pouty. I'd put him right in time-out."
Line art by @lav3nd3rfag
Season 1 episode 3 Life with Leo(h)
(Image id under read more)
[Image id:
Handmade pin pinned to black jeans. A brown floral couch is visabal in the bottom left corner. Drawn on the pin is a human looking android with yellow eyes, brown skin, dark brown hair, and dark reddish brown lips. The android is wearing a grey shirt and blue overalls. To the right of the android there is a whit speech bubble outlined in black with black text saying "I WANT TO EAT!" Underneat that is a pink and blue geometrical heart with lines through it. The pin's background is blue and pink scribbles.
End id]
5 notes - Posted July 9, 2022
#3
DNI if you're a shapeshifter, you're a clown, if you cry about everything, if you take everything personally, if you can't answer the phone, if you're the host against your will, if you're flight, fight, fawn, or freeze response is fawning, if you developed unhealthy attachments to unhealthy people, if you dont have a sense if identity, if people tend to use you for their gain when its convenient for them, if you didn't used to be a persecutor but the way you've been treated turned you into one, if you would do anything for your kids, if there is only one thing keeping you alive rn, if you're an age slider, if you just want to be loved and happy, if you like horror, if you're traumatized, if you have a hard time standing up for your boundries, if you don't know who you are cause who you are changes depending on who you are with, if you love floral scents and flowers, if you're allergic to a lot of flowers and heavy scents, if you're allergic to cats, if you have a cat, if you're obsessed with weird and/or unwanted animals, if the sight of bats makes you squeal and/or happy stim, if you are obssed with roses, if you write awful poetry, and if you get excited about projects and then loose motivation before finishing.
6 notes - Posted March 20, 2022
#2
13 notes - Posted March 15, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
"You were trying to put a Van Gogh... in a coffee cup?"
Life with Leo(h) s1e3
14 notes - Posted July 1, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Clover Ebi and the World's Luckiest Pie
Fair Game Week, Day 2: Date/Domestic
Clover Ebi is many things. He's Captain of the Ace Ops, he's one of Atlas's elite Huntsmen, a member of Ironwood's inner circle, a damn good poker player, and an all-round decent guy. He's charming, calm, cool under fire, has a semblance that can swing the odds, and even without that he has the skills and raw talent to back up his confidence. He's a catch, basically, and he knows it.
Now if Elm could stop laughing at him as he tells himself this, that would be great. It wasn't techically a date.
Ao3 Link
Clover looked at his reflection and held up a shirt in front of himself, wondering if maybe this one would work. He’d heard Qrow occasionally make the occasional pun, usually under his breath. Maybe one of his more casual t-shirts would work. After all, he didn’t have to be in his uniform all the time.
‘Born to fish, forced to work’ stared back at him, a gift from Elm that had been delivered with a suspiciously innocent grin.
He tossed that one aside too, slowly building up a pile on the bed. He wanted to make a good impression. He may have been a workaholic, but in his own apartment, he could tone it down, treat Qrow like a friend and not just a colleague.
He was amazed that the old spy had actually agreed to come over, but if Elm’s friendship had taught him anything, it was that there was no better way to get a visitor then to offer something home-cooked and delicious.
Which was why Elm was currently snickering at him from where she leaned against the door frame, since his luck only went so far when it came to cooking, and he wasn’t going to risk it. Not on something important like this.
“What, no fishing jokes?” Brown eyes sparkled cheerfully at him, Elm in her own casuals. A pastel lavender apron protected her cream sweater, her hair out of the usual ponytail and giving her a softer look. “How about this one?” she held up a tank top that said ‘sleeves are for nerds’.
“Absolutely not,” he laughed and grabbed it out of her hands. “He wears sleeves, in case you haven’t noticed. Calling him names doesn’t make a good impression.”
“I don’t know, flexing to assert dominance might up your chances,” she mused, flicking her bangs out of her eyes.
He snorted and threw the shirt back at her face. “This is a friendly hang out, Elm.”
“Clover, when you arrested him you ignored the very important Relic just so you could stand over him spinning your horseshoe.”
“But I looked cool, right?”
“You’re a show-off.” She grinned and started folding the pile of shirts tossed haphazardly on his bed.
“You’re one to brag, miss ‘jumped off Atlas for a dare’. It’s been what, ten minutes since you mentioned that?” He helped her set them aside in neat piles to be put away later. Order and cleanliness were important.
“Okay, so we’re both braggarts. Now do you know what you’re going to wear?”
“At this point I may as well wear my fishing vest and beanie.”
“Absolutely not.” Elm held up one of his white dress shirts. “Do you still have that green waistcoat?”
------
He hovered around his kitchen as he waited for Qrow to arrive, alternating between looking around his small apartment to make sure that it was neat and taking deep inhales of the divine smell of tonight's dinner. His scroll sat next to his speaker, smooth Mantle jazz filling the air as he kept throwing hungry glances at his oven.
He heard a knock on the door and scampered over to get it, feeling oddly nervous. Sure, he hadn’t exactly dated in a while, especially not since the Fall of Beacon, but he’d had plenty of on and off relationships and dates over the years. Perhaps he just felt somewhat rusty because of the year of throwing himself into his work as part of Ironwood’s inner circle.
He opened the door and felt his heart stutter a little bit. Qrow-
Wow.
Qrow had dressed up as well, it seemed. A dark red button-up, the same colour as his cape, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his usual rings adorning his fingers. His hair had been slicked back, which was a pretty good look if Clover did say so himself. He’d left the top two buttons undone, a necklace with a sideways cross hanging between the divots of his collarbones. Clover recognised the necklace as one that Qrow had worn when he’d first arrived in Atlas. It suited him.
Clover felt incredibly glad that he hadn’t taken Elm’s joking advice to wear a shirt with a bad fisherman pun on it. “Hello, Qrow,” he smiled at him, green eyes bright.
Qrow gave him a once-over that Clover hoped was appreciative and tossed a careless smirk at him, a faint slouch to his shoulders. “So you can wear sleeves.”
“If I have to,” he grinned, his usual armband wrapped over the shirt. “And you went without the cape, I notice.”
“Unwillingly. Ren stole it before I could put it on.” Qrow rolled his eyes. “Brat.”
“You didn’t steal it back? I thought you’d be good at that.” He stepped to the side a little bit. “Come in, dinner’s just ready.” Elm had left simple written instructions because she clearly didn’t trust him.
Qrow slank in past him, looking around the place with some sort of look that Clover was used to seeing in a set of lavender eyes. Clover would put money on the bet that Qrow had just spotted everything shiny and/or valuable in his apartment, and also every single point of entry. “Nice place. I was expecting something spartan, I won’t lie.”
Clover smiled proudly and closed the door. “Well, I find that having a home I actually like being in is an excellent reason to not spend all night working.”
Qrow hummed in what was probably agreement before he snorted. “Wow. The fisherman aesthetic doesn’t just stick to the weapon?”
Clover followed his gaze to his fish tank, set against the wall and large enough that his little aquarium was bright and lively. He had the water heated to provide a comfortable temperature for his fist. Danios, Platies, Swordtails, and Tetras filled the waters, darting about the habitat he’d made for them.
“I like fish,” he shrugged innocently. He’d leave out the fact that he’d named each and every one of them for now.
“Okay, I have to ask, do you actually fish?” Qrow raised a brow.
“I do, actually. One side of my family are fishermen in Argus.” He looked at his bookshelf, the top row filled with pictures while books were stacked in the other three. “My mother’s side, specifically.”
“Huh. I’ve been there.”
“I heard.” He really hoped it was exaggeration.
“... I’ve been there other times besides that. Normally I don’t get caught.” Qrow’s eyes held a teasing glint that definitely caught Clover’s interest.
He grinned back and decided to take the obvious opportunity. “So I got lucky?”
“You’re a terrible person,” Qrow snickered, watching Clover’s fish swim around.
“You think I’m great.” He flicked his pin and hoped he was right.
Qrow looked at him like he was about to answer before the alarm Elm had set went off, cutting through the Mantle jazz with a demonic screeching. Both Huntsmen jumped and immediately reached for weapons they didn’t have, attention focusing on the sound.
Clover relaxed first and strode towards the kitchen, looking at the instructions pinned to the fridge to make absolutely sure before he turned off the oven and grabbed a tea towel, reaching in to grab the shepherd’s pie. He chanted ‘please don’t burn’ in his head as a mantra and mercifully, fortunately, fantastically, it came out totally fine.
He placed it on the stove top to cool, taking a moment to just bask in the awe of Elm’s cooking skills, before he turned to grab plates and crashed headfirst into a curious Qrow Branwen, who had been looming behind him to try see what the enticing smell of dinner was.
Their skulls knocked together with a loud clonk, both of them stumbling back from the impact. Clover swore as he stepped back, one hand coming up to touch his forehead as the other went behind him, just barely avoiding the pie.
Qrow tripped over the table, sending the cutlery, both glasses of water, and a candle that Clover really should have never even got out of a cupboard over the floor and himself. Water splashed, glass shards went everywhere, a table leg snapped, and one of the napkins caught fire.
Qrow lifted his hands from where they had been clutching at his forehead, took one look at the absolute destruction he was now the centrepiece of, and let out a long-suffering groan of existential weariness. He didn’t even bother getting up, even as water soaked into his shirt.
Clover stared, gobsmacked, before he panicked and started moving his hands in useless fussy gestures. “Holy shit are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there- how many fingers am I holding up?” What if he’d concussed him?
Qrow blinked at him, looking rather done with the situation before he threw up a hand. “Help me up?”
A smidge of colour crossed Clover’s cheeks as he realised he probably should have led with that, clasping Qrow’s wrist firmly as he pulled him to his feet. “Sorry, I should have paid more attention.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Qrow pushed his soaking wet hair out of his eyes, the back having fallen out of his usual swoop to cling to his neck instead. “I have quiet footsteps.”
Clover gave him a cursory glance, checking for damage. “I have shirts you can borrow if you don’t want to stay in something soaked,” he offered, before he processed what he was saying. Qrow in one of his shirts? With their… specific sort of camaraderie?
Qrow quirked a brow at him before a wickedly sharp grin slashed across his face, one that deepened the blush painted across the bridge of Clover’s nose. “Sure thing, Shamrock.” Clover could see nothing but future disaster in those mischievous, beautiful eyes. Qrow continued like he wasn’t being an absolute hazard to Clover’s heart health. “Just point me where I’ll find them then I’ll help you clean up.”
Clover swallowed and kept his voice steady. “My room, just to the left of the main room. The door on the right. There’s folded clothes on the bed, you can borrow one of those if you need to.”
Qrow patted his shoulder, let go of his wrist, and sauntered off, stepping gracefully around the broken furniture.
Clover looked at the disaster that had been his table and made an executive decision that Elm’s cooking was and always would be more important. He fetched two plates and some cutlery, dividing the shepherd’s pie neatly in half before serving it up. He carried the plates out to his living room, setting them on his coffee table with the cutlery before fetching more water.
He didn’t know what Qrow’s story was with alcohol, but he’d said that he’d given up, so Clover wasn’t about to serve him some for dinner. That would be in very poor taste.
He waited for about a minute before he heard Qrow’s husk. “Hey, Shamrock, where do you keep your towels.”
“Linen cupboard, I’ll grab you one.” He got off the couch and made sure to get the softest one he had, rapping his knuckles on the bedroom door.
Qrow pulled it open and grabbed the towel, immediately rubbing his hair with it. Clover looked at the shirt he was in and wanted to go stab himself with Kingfisher’s harpoon, ‘fishing saved me from becoming a porn star. Now I’m just a hooker’ emblazoned over black fabric in swirly gold letters.
He should have put the puns away.
“Dinner’s ready?” He tried, feeling rather more flustered than he was used to.
Qrow smirked at him and strutted by with an absolute lack of shame, practically crashing down onto the couch as he grabbed a plate. “This smells fucking good. You make it?”
“Elm. My skill in the kitchen begins and ends with stews and boiling things. Even my luck can’t do everything.” He’d cop to it.
“I’m banned from cooking anything that isn’t breakfast foods or microwaveable. It’s nearly impossible to fuck up breakfast food.” Qrow took a big heaping forkful of the world’s luckiest pie and shoved it all into his mouth in one big bite. Clover couldn’t quite make out what the next words were, they got mangled somewhere between the cheesy potatoes and the meat stew, but he hazarded a guess that it probably involved appreciative swearing.
Clover did the same, and had a moment to realise that Elm had definitely outdone herself on his behalf, before he fully committed to clearing his plate entirely and buying Elm something nice.
Talk was dead. There was only them, the pie, and the fucking beautiful moment they were having with it. Before long, the plates were cleared, and Clover was left to stare at the fishing joke on one of his tops as it mocked him.
He’d had a mission plan. He hoped that the backup option of sitting on the couch wasn’t too far a step down. “I’m sorry again, about before.”
“Don’t worry about it, it was my semblance anyway.” Qrow rubbed his hair with the towel again, and Clover spotted a faint scar on his right bicep, something his longer sleeves usually covered. “The couch is comfier anyway. Better view.”
Clover raised a brow. “Oh?” Did Qrow mean him?
“Your fish.” Qrow nodded at the tank. “They’re pretty cool. I have a dog at home. He’s Tai’s dog, really, but I’m part of the pack.”
“I’m glad that plan B worked out.” Clover had been a little too focused on the food to be worrying about fish or Qrow. But he was glad to know things still went well.
“Definitely.” Qrow picked up the plates. “I’ll help you clean up.”
“No, you don’t have to, you’re a guest.” Clover shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out later.”
“Later, huh?” Qrow grinned. “But we just had dinner.”
“But we haven’t had tea,” Clover wagged a finger at him with a returning smile. If nothing else, he was going to show Qrow his collection of novelty mugs. The other Huntsman would probably get a kick out of that. “Tell you what, you tell me about your dog, and I’ll point out each fish in my aquarium by name.”
Qrow barked a laugh and shifted so he was resting one knee up on the couch, turned attentively towards Clover as he lounged there like he owned the place. “Deal. So his name’s Zwei…”
-------
Clover waved Qrow off, still in the borrowed shirt, with his own soaked dress shirt under his arm, and felt like he could be floating with how light his chest was.
He dialled Elm the moment he'd closed his apartment door behind him, grinning like he'd just found a pot of gold at a rainbow's end. She picked up, just as quickly, and he could practically hear her massive grin over the scroll. “So, how’d it go, fearless leader?”
“I got a second date!” It was totally a date.
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Happy St Patrick's Day, everybody.
#Fair Game#fairgameweek2020#Clover Ebi#Qrow Branwen#RWBY#Elm Ederne#she's here too and she's having a wonderful time#my writings
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The Pirate Prince Chapter 16
The Pirate Prince
Chapter 16: The Quest begins
“IT’S BEEN WHAT?!” Came Impaya’s shout, making the various crowd members flinch, before the Sheikah Matriarch threw her doors and stormed down the steps, rage practically sparking off her.
“Where is Yigia?” Impaya grit out, her eyes narrowed.
“He said he had business at the shrine.” Said Kado, as he sharpened an arrowhead, “He said he didn’t want to be disturbed.”
Impaya reached forwards and grabbed Kado by the lapels of his coat, “Bring. Him. Here. Now.”
Kado was silent, before he placed two fingers in his mouth and blew. A lone falcon flew down from the sky and landed on his arm, Kado made a strange jerk with his head, prompting the bird to fly off towards the shrine behind the fairy fountain. Kado turned and faced Impaya, “He’ll be here by noon.”
Impaya gave Kado a glare that could melt steel, before she turned on her heel and stalked towards the graveyard.
“Who’s Yigia?” Whispered Link, leaning towards Zelda.
“Yigia is the grave keeper,” Said Impa, not looking at Link, “The Royal graves are the only graves that are built to be maintained, if the tomb has fallen into such a state that a monster could inhabit it without our notice, it would be a form of desecration that even the Yiga Clan could not ignore.”
“And Yigia is the grave keeper?” Asked Link, making Impa turn towards him.
“Yes, he’s also supposed to be at the Graves at all times, unless he has permission otherwise.” Responded Impa, before an arrow flew towards Zelda.
Impa grabbed the arrow out of the air and launched it back towards it’s origin point. The Arrow fell short, but it had the intended effect of making everyone look at the attacker. A Shiekah with an upside down Shiekah Tattoo snarled at the group, before notching another arrow and losing it at Zelda. Impa caught the arrow, before throwing at knife at the attack. The knife hit home and the attacker fell forwards with a sickening thud.
“Who,” Said Link, “was that?”
“That, was Yigia.” Said Impaya, flipping the corpse over with her foot, “Treacherous slimeball.”
A thunderous scream broke the air. Link gazed upwards, before spotting Skyloft, his wings arched above the village. And then he left, his giant wings creating a massive gust of air that knocked everyone down. Link could’ve sworn that he heard Skyloft singing.
“I don’t understand.” Said Zelda, after a moments silence, “He could’ve destroyed the entire village, but chose to spare it.”
“He was fighting.” Said Impa, narrowing her eyes, “At least we know that they aren’t acting on their own accord.”
TPP
The screaming grew louder, He could barely keep his balance as he flew. He spotted Mare and Viribus stalking around Hyrule Field. Oh, how he longed to speak with them once more, but he felt the curse taking over again.
No where in the fifteen regions and five kingdoms would be safe if he allowed the darkness to take hold. The oldest of the Guards felt weary, he flew towards the great gate. The sword must be protected.
TPP
Link checked the travelling pack on Epona. The dark brown mare huffed towards her rider, butting her head against his shoulder as she started to circle him. Link ran his hand down her face, he felt, without Epona, he’d be lost.
Link kept his ears open, the Princess’s safety was in his hands, Impaya made that all too clear. He heard Zelda come up behind him.
“Are you ready?” Asked Link, turning to face his friend.
“As I’ll ever be.” Said Zelda, quietly, “Impaya believes that we should go to each of the regions, reunite Hyrule before taking the Castle back.”
“A wise strategy,” Said Link, before moving to check Arawn’s pack. Arawn was a white stallion that was descended from the same white stallion that was found by the Hero of the Wild, “No one in Hyrule would dare turn away their Queen.”
“Link,” Said Zelda, quietly, “we both know they won’t see me as their Queen.”
“The Rito, Zora, Gorons, Sheikah, Gerudo and Kokiri do,” Responded Link, counting them off on his fingers, “That’s six out of fifteen. So, I think we’re going great.”
“The Lord of Akkala barely stood by my mother, the Lord of Hateno and Faron are both dead with no heirs, Hebra, Ridgeland, Lake and Central Lords would rather see me married off and we’re not counting the lesser lords in Lanayru, Eldin, Tabantha and Woodlands.”
Link stopped and looked at Zelda, who was hugging herself, “Zelda, they’re old men, who’d rather live in the past than actually help themselves or the others around them. Yes, the Wolves of the Forests and the Hunters of the plains are gone, but we may find what remains of them. Zel, we’re going to have to keep fighting, even if we don’t go to the Lords, the Colossi and whoever is controlling them are hunting you and anyone with the blood of the Goddess until their dying day.”
Zelda looked at Link, “When did you become so wise?”
“I had a really shitty week, Princess.” Said Link, leaning against Zelda’s horse, “By the way, where did the name ‘Tetra’ come from?”
Zelda blushed and scratched the back of her head, “It’s my middle name.”
“You told me you didn’t have a middle name.” Said Link, folding his arms.
“I lied, my middle name is Tetra,” Said Zelda, blushing, “You know, after the one that rediscovered Hyrule before the seas receded?”
“The same one who was the wife of the Hero of Winds?” Asked Link, raising his eyebrows.
Zelda nodded, before looking at Arawn and stared, “What the hell did you do to my horse?”
Link looked proud of himself, “You like it? It took me two hours to fully plait his mane.”
“He looks ridiculous!” Protested Zelda, her hands going to her hair, “No one is going to take me seriously if my horse looks like he belongs in a show!”
“Isn’t that what a Parade is?” Snarked Link, before Zelda hit him with the map, “Okay, not funny, but seriously, where we’re going, they are going to look at him and see him as a Royal Stallion fit enough for the Queen of Hyrule.”
“I’m not a Queen, Link.” Said Zelda, shaking her head softly.
“That’s how they’re going to see you, Zelda,” Said Link, stepping closer and placing his hand on her shoulder, “They see your parents as dead and the Royal court with them. They’d jump as a chance to aid their monarch.”
Zelda looked up at him, “Hateno is overrun with monsters, Faron is rife with infighting and betrayals and the Guardian Protectors of this land are against us. Link, if we’re going to have any chance of swaying them, we’re going to need the Master Sword.”
“And to get that, we’re going to need the Tokens of the Goddesses.” Said Link, leaning against Epona.
“We already have one,” Said Zelda, gesturing to the bag that held Farore’s Pearl, “The other two are in Hebra and Eldin.”
“And Lord Arnold hasn’t stood with the Royal Family since your mother married your father.” Said Link, folding his arms, “And the Lord of Akkala isn’t known for his hospitality.”
“After what he did to the Wolves and the Hunters?” Asked Zelda, sarcastically.
“But he is your grandfather.” Said Link, straightening up, “That may convince him to allow us to cross his lands.”
Zelda was silent, in truth, she didn’t know how the Lord of Akkala would react to her presence, he barely acknowledged her existence and when he did, it was always to ask why she hadn’t been married off.
There was a scream, making Link and Zelda look towards the north entrance to Kakariko, and both immediately wishing they hadn’t. On a lone horse, was the beheaded corpse, with a giant bird’s head pinned through the body where the head would be. Kado grabbed the horse by the reigns and cut the body free and carefully lowing it to the ground.
“It’s Stritch.” Said Kado, before looking at the bird’s head.
Impaya approached the horse and looked at the markings on the saddle.
“This horse came from Akkala.” Said the Matriarch, her red eyes narrowing.
Link and Zelda watched as Kado, finally, removed the bird’s head.
“And this,” Said Kado, grimly, “is definitely a Loftwing.”
The silence echoed through the village; the implication clear as crystal. The Lord of Akkala now stood against Hyrule.
TPP
Link ducked behind a rock, he had joined Kado and a few others in tracking down the Akkalan soldiers, finding them terrorising a village. Courage hummed in his hand, making Link look down at the Sword, Zelda had suggested naming the swords they’d both been given. Link saw Kado notch an arrow, before taking aim at the soldiers.
Link vaulted over the rock, slipping his shield beneath his feet and surfing down to the bottom of the hill, just as Kado’s arrow struck a soldier in the neck. Two others fell to Link, after he rammed courage through one’s chest and removed another’s head. Link spotted two more Soldier’s trying to get away.
An arrow struck one in the back and another struck the second through the back of the knee. Link looked over at Kado, who pointed behind him. Link turned and looked up the hill, spotting Zelda at the top, an ancient bow clasped in her hand.
Link turned around and looked at the surviving soldier, now desperately trying to crawl away. Link and Kado quickly made their way over to him. The soldier grunted as Link kicked him and forced him onto his back.
Zelda watched on as Link and Kado interrogated the soldier. She didn’t hear what they said, but Link took a step back and brought Courage down on the soldier’s head. Zelda glared at the corpses, before turning around and returned to Kakariko. Link watched as the Soldier’s blood drained from his body. He didn’t know his name, but he had met him when his father took him and Aryll to the Castle.
Link and the other warriors followed Zelda back into the village. Link stopped and looked at the shield on one of the soldier’s backs. Picking the shield up, Link examined it. It was circular and looked like it was made of wood, but, at its base, it was steel. Link knew what the wood was for. Noticing that he was falling behind, Link ran back up the hill.
Link saw Zelda by the horses, double checking the supplies he’d packed. Link was a few feet behind Zelda, when she said, “Are you ready to go?”
“I’d follow you into the depths of darkened lands.” Said Link, earning him a small smile from Zelda.
“Then, let’s be off.” Said Zelda, climbing onto Arawn’s back and settling herself into the saddle.
Link followed suit, before gently spurring Epona forwards. As he and Zelda passed, blossom petals were thrown on the ground in front of them. Link smiled, knowing that the village was wishing them luck.
“To Hebra?” Asked Link, looking back at Zelda, before she drew level with him.
“To Hebra.” Confirmed Zelda, a determined look in her eyes.
Link grinned, before spurring Epona into a gallop.
#the legend of zelda#legend of zelda#link#zelda#zelink#princess zelda#kado#impaya#impa#Epona#The Pirate Prince#delta writes
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If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let’s get to know the person behind the blog! 💖
I... ;^; 💖 thank you anon this would be the first ask I've received and I have very little idea what to share but hm, let's see!
1) I have no idea how many pets I’ve had! I’m not kidding, genuinely no clue!
2) I actually do all my digital art on my phone and I don’t use a pen, just my finger, but now that I have a new phone that I’m still trying to figure out how to use this might change!
3) I haven't done anything to post any content until recently but I started watching Hetalia in mid 8th grade and started making things for it with a friend during that summer and, well, we still are! Currently we have ~9 AUs and ~40 stories, I don't know how many I'll put out but most of them are 2p ;)
More on my pets/animals you didn’t ask for but you’ve got my memory jogging and I miss my babies:
- I’ve had 3 cats (Belle, Pumpkin Boy, and Sarah) and kinda fostered one 1 kitten (don’t remember his name but it was some initials), basically our other cats were bullies to the new kit and we couldn’t keep him. But we also had some stray cats that came to our house, one was Cookie and the other was Rain
-4 dogs, but one only resided one night with us because we couldn’t support her and she scared away my last cat. The first two were Yorkshire terriers (Gigi and Angel), the one that stayed one night was a Carolina dog named Hazel, and now we have is a Bichon Frise, his name is Beau
- At least 4 rabbits (I mentioned it before, but a rabbit made a nest in my old equestrian trainers stables and so she distributed them, I think I ended up with 2-4, but they didn’t make it..), one was from one of my mothers employees, (he was Star) he was our oldest and longest lived and I miss him, one as a surprise from the pet store (I named her Chile), and one my dad got from work because I think someone found it at a gas station? He was named Bevo for his white and orange markings like the mascot of UT Austin
- Estimate it to be at least 40 fish because we had a pond, the last survivors were goldfish named Princess (for a goldfish I thought she has an impressive size, still sad about her death) and Lucky (a brown goldfish). I also had 4 tetras, and my last fish was a beta fish named Skittles
- Hermit crabs! I have no idea how many of those we had but it was more than 10!
- .... I don’t know how many geckos I had, but at least one leopard gecko
- All the birds I had were from my dad’s work or my cats being wild. Most notable from that group was a dove named Pidgey, Squirt the bird we have no idea what it was but was the only one we were able to release and his favorite place was the purple castle I had on top of my shelf, Lil Pip the sparrow, and Gizmo the duckling (I have so many bird stories)
- .... Frogs, frogs and toads and snails and small garden snakes were frequent visitors to my old home and I kept tabs on them. I have an old video with some frogs, so I know I kept at least two!
- And he wasn’t a pet but while I was living with my grandparents and Angel was still alive she found a ring-necked snake in so I picked it up and named it Punc
- I’ve also done some pet sitting for a ranch that has hunting dogs, chickens, guinea fowls, horses, and cows, and at a different place took care of two mice!
- Oh that reminds me I’ve caught two wild mice, one has left me with two scars and the other was really nice and just sat on my neck
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Crossing The Great Sea Chapter 3 (Linked Universe)
Word count ; 2363
Read on Archive of our own
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Far away , Wind could see the Mother and Child Isles. The boat was moving slowly, Wind wanted to use the wind waker to help them move faster, but the other agreed to let the wind do it’s own thing. The others wanted to learn as much as they can about the World crossing pirates. No, not pirates. Travelers. That’s really all they were. Most didn’t even know how to fight. Ren in particular enjoyed to watch the Heroes spar.
“How much longer do I have?” Four was behind Wind, making the youngest slightly jump.
“Um, I’m not sure. A couples days for sure. We’re almost out of the Great Sea though.” Wind noticed the smallest hero had a different book than the day before. “Find anything interesting?”
“Not really, only one book is weird.” Four held up the leather bound book.
“What does it say?” Curiosity was winning today in Wind’s mind.
Four handed it to Wind, the latter looked at the one page with text, “This kinda sounds like what happened to me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Tetra was turned to stone. When I found her I learned Lineneck had... ran away when his old crew was captured. Later Bellum attached himself to Linebeck and I had to fight him. But I don’t think anything had to do with memories.” Wind trailed off, “Amila mentioned something about Linebeck helping them, she said she doesn’t remember….”
“Do you think it's coincidence?” Four was looking over the written words with a new light.
“Maybe.. did you ask Jacalyn?” Wind knew he shouldn’t pry, it wasn’t right. But Linebeck was his friend, he had a right to know, right? If they were forgetting, was it so wrong to try to help them remember?
“She said she doesn’t remember either. I could ask her about Linebeck though.” Four closed the book, having his curiosity renewed.
“What are you two plotting?” Twilight approached them.
Wind and Four smiled innocently, “Nothing.” They spoke in almost unison.
Twilight eyes looked over the two boys, then sighed, “whatever, don’t get in too much trouble though. Wild’s got the food ready. He’s serving the recipe he got from your grandma.” Twilight nodded to Wind.
The three of them joined the others, who were already seated digging into the soup laid out for them. The engaged in small talk, mostly towards the cook. Wind made the passing comment that if Wild practiced enough he may be almost as good as grandma.
The all had a good laugh. Somehow they began talking about masks. After eating Wild showed off his small collections of masks.
“Is that Majora’s Mask?” Qin reached for the mask in question. Is wasn’t a pretty mask. It had all the colors of the rainbow, but scatter on it. Horns were spread along the heart shaped edges. The eyes is what bothered most, the yellow and red seemed to look through people.
“Yeah, I’ve many stories behind it. Heard of it?” Wild nodded to Jacalyn.
“Of course I have. Especially from the mask salesman.” Jacalyn smiled as she held it in her hands, “He had so many stories, it was hard to leave him.”
The others laughed. Amila began to tell about when they meet him, the salesman was a talker for sure. The sun set and Time and Jacalyn took first watch. The night was quiet. Jacalyn keep a single hand on the helm as she scanned the sea.
“Sorry.”
Time turned to Jacalyn, who was still staring out into the sea, “Excuse me?”
“Sorry Fairy boy, I’ve been unfair.”
Time gave her a questioning look, “How so?”
“I haven’t even asked you to say your story yet.” Jacalyn looked at him, more like through him, “Yours seems to be pretty important and told in many different ways, so I might as well hear it from its source.”
“Like you said, it’s been told so many times. I would assume you already have hear it 100 times.” Time could feel himself relax, if only a bit.
“I’ll admit, I have heard yours a whole lot, one of my earliest books is of your journey. But can’t you humor a child?” Jacalyn swayed on her feet as she spoke, a smile spread wide across her face.
“You sure don’t speak or act like a child,” Time remarked, then added, “most of the time anyway.”
Jacalyn laughed. “I am only 16, I’m entitled to act like a child sometimes.”
The two kept up light hearted conversations through the shift. A voice caught their attention. Hyrule was standing there, a tired smile on his face.
“A bit early to change shifts.” Time raised his brow.
“I’m having a bit of trouble sleeping tonight, thought I could make myself useful.”
Time might have argued, but Jacalyn spoke first. “Go get some rest old man, we can handle it.”
Hyrule nodded. Time let out a sigh and walked past Hyrule into the hull. He turned back one last time, “Need me to wake one of the other for you Jacalyn?”
The woman held up her hand, “No need, let those who can sleep, sleep. I’ll be good for a bit longer.”
Time nodded and headed inside, Leaving the two alone.
“Liar.”
Jacalyn eyed the boy, “You can get rid of me after you listen.”
Hyrule had heard the speech earlier. She had come up to him and begun talking. It wasn’t hard to notice Hyrule didn’t fit in with the others. Jacalyn told him that was all in his head, but was it really. Hero of Time, Hero of Warriors, Hero of the Wind, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Four sword, Hero of Legend, Hero of the Wild. Even The Chosen Hero. What was he again? Hero of Hyrule. Just Hyrule. He wasn’t exactly a Hero either.
No matter what the others told him he wouldn’t change his mind, why was she even trying. He wasn’t trying to be rude, Hyrule was just tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. It didn’t help Jacalyn looked exhausted as soon as Time left, as if she was tired of saying it too.
“I don’t really need encouragement, I’m fine. I’ll travel with them, I don’t need to be their equals.” Hyrule told her, he didn’t need to add he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be their equals. Hard to be a humble traveler when everyone in the land knows your name.
Jacalyn growled, “You are-” She cut herself off and took a deep breath. “I know I can’t change your mind.” She admitted.
Hyrule looked at her, surprised.
“But, you can’t change anyone else’s mind either. We all think you belong. Nothing you can do about that.” Jacalyn didn’t talk after that, neither did Hyrule. Both stood in peaceful silence as the night went on.
“Linebeck? Yeah we ran in with him.” Wind and Four had found Jacalyn in the study writing in a journal of sorts. Both we listening eagerly to what the girl was saying.
“He was an interesting fellow, talked about how he saved the sea.” Jacalyn smiled, lost in her memory, “Now that I think about it, he spoke about you alot,” She nodded towards Wind.
“How long ago was that?” Four asked.
Jacalyn rubbed her neck, “Um, maybe 4 months ago. I’m not sure, my memory is pretty bad.”
Four and Wind sighed, the former begun to think circles in his head. Four should have known this wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Then Wind asked the question Four should have asked way earlier.
“Why is your memory so bad?”
Jacalyn pause, her eyes widened for a moment. Without blinking or looking at them she spoke, almost like a recording, without any emotion or warmth, “It doesn’t matter.”
Four and Wind exchanged glances, Jacalyn shook her head, and spoke with her normal voice, “Some things are better left forgotten. You should probably leave it that way.”
Wind sighed in defeat and walked out, Four gave her a suspicious look, but followed.
There was no way he was leaving it that way. Four wasn’t sure why he was so curious, why he wanted to know so badly. No, not wanted anymore. He needed to know. He wasn’t sure why, but he was sure he needed to know.
Time wasn’t sure what to think when the two smaller heroes walked out of the study. They seemed normal, going to do something to occupy the time. The only thing that made him worry is the way Jacalyn continued to stare off into space, writing something down without looking. Time walked in, she didn’t seem to notice him until he was next to her. Time only got a glance at what was written, it was an effort to keep his face neutral. Jacalyn shut the book with a loud thud.
“Sorry, I think I’m going to retire early today,” She looked up at him, or rather through him. It looked as if nothing was behind those brown eyes. “Think you can tell the others for me?”
“Sure.”
Time watched as she took the book and walked to her room, the door shutting behind her. He walked out onto the deck and told the others, as he said he would. Time couldn’t focus though, what was written kept gnawing at his mind. He had overheard Four talk to Warriors and Wind about some weird things hidden in her books, but the phrase he read…. she couldn’t have known. He could hear the words spoken to him,
You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?
The heroes didn’t see Jacalyn for a few days. Amila informed them she was feeling ill, but it wasn’t contagious. Four seemed unconvinced but didn’t voice anything. The crew had gone stiff since Jacalyn got sick. They were more quiet, sent more glances towards Jacalyn’s room and towards Amila.
“Do you know how deep the ocean is?” Sky was next to Wind, looking deep into the sea.
“I’m not too sure, the entire Kingdom of old Hyrule lies beneath it.” Wind could remember traversing through the old castle.
“Wow,” That was all Sky could say. Nothing was really going on. Every was around doing things, but the atmosphere felt empty.
“We passed Star Island the other day, so we’ve left the Great Sea. Who knows how long until we reach another Hyrule.”
“It can vary,” Fellin answered, walking up to the young heroes.
“Sometimes it can take a day or two, other times it has taken weeks.” Fellin sent another glance towards Jacalyn’s room.
Sky frowned, then shouted to Amlia, “You sure you don’t need any help with Jacalyn?”
Amila smiled, “She’s fine, we’ve dealt with this before.”
Sky heard her grumble a bit more, but she continued on with a smile. It was clear Amila was in charge when Jacalyn was away.
Legend was walking to the study, after hearing one his own stories was written down. As he passed by Jacalyn’s room he heard voice. Curiosity won out over human decency as he stood and tried to listen.
“You promised.” That was Amila.
“I did.” Jacalyn’s voice was soft, as if it hadn’t been used in days.
“The others have been worried.”
There was a laugh on the other side, “Why wouldn’t they be? It’s been awhile since something like this has happened.”
“They would be happy to see you’re ok.”
“.... Soon. I’d like to think a bit longer to think.”
Legend heard something shuffle.Taking that as his cue to tune out he walked to the study. Four was sitting there, looking at the same book.
“What’d you hear?”
“Excuse me?”
Something was different about the smallest hero. Maybe Four didn’t do well with confined spaces. Maybe he read a story about bad stuff happening on a ship. Whatever it was, Legend did not appreciate how he was acting. And the others though he was bad.
“I saw you listening to Jacalyn’s door, I’m asking what you heard.” Four was looking him in the eyes.
Legend wanted to argue, but gave in. The sooner Four was done being nosey, the sooner he’d be back to normal.
When Jacalyn exited her room, her crew bombarded her with questions. She waved them all off with a shrug and a smile. Wind was surprised when she didn’t look at him or Four with any negative emotion. She looked at none of the Heroes differently than she did a few days before.Time was conflicted, wanting to ask about the phrase she had written, but he held back. Later. they could deal with that later, or maybe never.
Something was wrong. Four had known it since he set foot on the ship. This weird feeling of… well he didn’t know. He was curious, who wouldn’t be? But Four could usually respect people’s secrets. Why couldn’t he do it now? He had snapped at Sky. It was over something small and Sky forgave him, but still. This wasn’t right. The others noticed too, Legend would soon confront him, Four knew it. So he’d fix it before then.
Four approached Jacalyn while she was in the study, alone.
She smiled at him, as if nothing happened, “Heya Four, need a new book?”
“No, I need answers.” No need to beat around the bush anymore.
Jacalyn sighed, “You don’t. Like I said, somethings are-”
“No.”
Jacalyn paused. Then took a breath. “It’s not worth it.”
“What do you mean.”
“The knowledge you want, it’s not worth it,” Jacalyn’s voice dropped, “So drop it.”
Four wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. He knew something was up. Jacalyn knew too.
“Four.” Jacalyn called for him.
It has something to do with her memory, her boat. Her.
“Four!” Her voice was louder, more annoyed.
The final pieces were in front of him, why couldn’t he put them together.
“FOUR!” She was yelling, angry.
Something snapped.
Four felt the ground meet his head.
His mind was not working.
He couldn’t think.
The last thing he could hear was Jacalyn’s voice.
It was not filled with anger or annoyance.
The only emotions he could hear was worry and fear.
“FOUR!”
And with that, Four was no longer there.
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Kyrgyzstan: A Travelogue in Words
Manas International Airport has inadvertently turned into a bird sanctuary. The decibel of bird sounds when, dazed after 22 hours of travel you walk for the first time out into early morning Kyrgyz sunlight, provide a stunning first impression of the deepest part of the lushest forest at sunrise. Then you traverse the barren miles between Kyrgyz towns. So that when leaving you look up again and realize the birds have made a home not between the lush green leaves that were earlier conjured, but between long metal bars stretched across a plain awning. You chuckle to yourself for pity of those architects. Certainly they had not intended nor anticipated this secondary affect of hundreds of birds gathering to fight and sing and build and defecate above the sliding doors in and out of Kyrgyzstan.
Other first impressions: the toilet paper here is just a slightly wider and colorless kin of the crinkly stretchy paper streamers we use in America to celebrate birthdays and bridal showers and such.
Borscht soup has the redness of the reddest heirloom tomato distilled to 15 feet for purity of color. I thought it was full of tomatoes but it is full of cabbage and bits of beef, without any of the tartness of tomatoes. The red remains a mystery, but that is of little concern to me because it tastes very good. (After writing this, I learned the soup is made from beets.)
Lake Issyk Kul is blue-blue. Blue must be said twice because it is not just blue, it is the bluest blue, and the standard against which all blues may be set. And it does not want for size either—8 hours is required to travel its circumference. We could see it from our room. But at the lodge, the hallway we had to walk down to get to our room was so long it began to feel psychological. It was long and dimly lit, with no windows, just rows and rows of doors to each side, and you think you are nearly there but then you are still not. It is inevitable, even after walking up and down it multiple times a day, that you wonder if it ever ends. Walking through it feels a little like you have been plunged into an anxious dream.
An hour’s drive around Lake Issyk Kul towards the Hindu Kush mountains brought us to a little dirt road into the alleged burial grounds of St. Matthew, which turned out to be merely a small cave tunneling through a hill, with a yellowed Bible, a half-assed alphabet etched into the wall, a crumpled picture of Mary, Nestorian symbols of the cross inside an enclave, and a fistful of yellow flowers fastened above the small dark hole of an exit. It was a funny attempt to capitalize on pious tourists and the actual discovery: the divers who discovered remnants of ancient human civilization buried under Lake Issyk Kul, a shard with Armenian/Syrian language which corroborates with a 14th century map indicating an Armenian monastery at a place called “issikol,” where St. Matthew might have been as he traveled towards India, establishing little communities of believers.
Large yellow brown planes, horses and cows nibbling side by side with little nosy clusters of gossiping chickens. Chickens, when they are together in the country, are always gossiping. Cows wander freely along the single paved road, crossing it at will, knowing their right of way—if they are hit the driver is at fault and pays. By nightfall they have all headed home because if they are hit after dark, the driver is no longer at fault and the owner pays for his losses. One lamb is 100 som and one horse is 3,000 som. I’m guessing cows are somewhere in between. The road is pollarded with trees painted white on the bottom, for what I’m not sure, because the trees are all dead and dried. They burn areas of the fields before cultivation, but I am not sure if anything can be coaxed out of these miles of dry grey granules of dirt, with yellowed grass spaced out like the hairs of a balding man. What great faith these men have driving around in tractors, farm tools scattered about. Seasons are a miraculous thing when the dead of winter is really so dead. But even then, Kyrgyzstan’s main problem, it seems, is that nothing is going on. Lake Issyk Kul is a large shock of brilliant turquoise just before the rise of the Tien Shan mountains to snowy peaks, and the beauty of it seems utterly useless, because beauty is completely frivolous and indifferent when industry is what is needed, work for men to put their hands to. And you can see it in some of the men’s faces ruddy with alcohol at noon, nothing to do and no purpose aside from bottles of that great Russian export, hard liquor. A man on a horse corralling his sheep on a barren hillside here, a lone smoke stack there, and a girl sitting on an overturned bucket selling 3 more buckets of soft apples...
Their jaunty hats of embroidered creamy woolen felt seemed at first like costume. I saw them upon the heads of a group of men, old and young, in western dress waiting at the gate in Istanbul. But as our plane descended into Bishkek, the men had grown raucous (I could smell the alcohol on their breaths behind me) and they kept laughing wildly and standing up in the cabin. The stewardesses’ reprimands went from pleading to threatening until they finally sat down. All throughout that week I saw men wearing them neatly upon their heads, amidst the countryside dust and the smog of Bishkek buses. They became to me more beautiful than all of Lake Issyk Kul, because they are symbols of human dignity, handiwork, and identity upon their heads—singular and defiant acts of Kyrgyz expression amidst vast lethargic poverty.
Then we were back at Manas International Airport. Missions is messy, he said as they tried to stuff a large Kyrgyz wall hanging amidst other shapely gifts into a suitcase that weighed in just under 20 kg. Earlier he had told me a story about the videographer for a group of missionaries going around Kilimanjaro. What was the hardest part of the journey? They asked him. He had lugged hefty camera equipment all up and down the mountain. After a bit of thought he said, getting all the receipts for reimbursement. So, missions is messy, and this has many meanings. Tetras-ing wall hangings into luggages under the weight limit is one of them, I said.
Later I saw two Kyrgyz infantrymen in smart Soviet-era hats and uniforms. They stopped to stand on the luggage weighing scale, in a jocular mood, perhaps ready to fill their bellies with spirit on a Friday night. I took a picture of them as they looked up at the large round clock of kilograms, laughing. We had just seen some people off, and went back out again to the deafening sound of birds.
Spaciba. I whispered many times under my breath but did not have the courage to say out loud. I started to recognize a few Russian letters. I was using a BeeLine sim card and all the messages from the carrier came in Russian.
Afghanis vacation in Tajik, Tajiks vacation in Kyrgyzstan. That is the order of wealth perhaps. We walked around the plaza, the architecture and use of space, so starkly Soviet-looking, was nothing like I had seen before. Stone monuments rose up everywhere. Lenin stood tall as a mountain, his hand outstretched, ominously pointing the way. We saw banners from the Persian New Year celebrations. We saw bottles of their award-winning white honey. They gifted me two, and a wall-hanging made of wool, before I left.
Back in the other central asian country where they worked, their phone calls were monitored by the government. They had code words for anything that might give their religion away, and while in Kyrgyzstan, they kept stiffening at words like church and missionary spoken out loud so freely between us. He acted out a phone call he once received from his dad who hardly ever called him: he heard his dad ask how is the mission doing? at the same time he heard a beep sound in the background, and he started coughing loudly, frantic to cover that forbidden word, mission. Are you ok? his dad asked. Dad let me call you back later. He hung up abruptly.
He told me about the experience of his Dutch friends. The lady was newly pregnant and earlier that morning she had broken news of it to her family over the phone. In the afternoon her husband stopped at a government office. The officials greeted him and then congratulated him on his wife’s pregnancy. He was obviously taken aback--how could they have known? And then he realized they had tapped his call. The state learned of his wife’s pregnancy at the same time their family learned of the pregnancy. Constant surveillance was a fact of life, as elementary as seasons and the color blue.
We shared immigration stories (immigration offices in developing countries always produce stories). He told me about his friend who went to the immigration office in a North African country. The windows were numbered 1-8. He went to the first one. A man slid open the window. And after an exchange of explanations and papers was done, he said, please proceed to window 2. So he went to window 2 and waited. It slid open to reveal the same man. Hello, he said, as if they had not just spoken moments ago. A twin perhaps? But no. Window after window it was the same man, running all 8 windows of immigration at the immigration office. Seven times he greeted him as if they had never spoken before.
He also told me about kidnappings. A few days after he told me about his own, he shared another one about the pregnant German woman who was kidnapped in a middle eastern country he had worked in. The kidnappers had begun to broadcast a live video of their ransom demands. But the scene quickly spiraled into a chaos that was almost comic. The woman began to shout at her kidnappers, openly mocking and shaming them in her brazen way. The kidnappers could be seen regrouping in a corner, arguing with each other over what to do, how to proceed, maybe they should just let her go? She was pregnant afterall and maybe what they were doing was unethical. He told me he never thought he could feel for kidnappers, but he did then. In that moment, they were just a group of people who were desperate and believed that this was the only way to get their demands met. They were also just a group of people who did not agree with each other and did not have a good plan in place. They eventually released the woman.
Gigi and I sat on the floor of the hotel room (because the floors were heated and nothing else), across the street from the American embassy that rose up like a fortress amidst rubble, before a beautiful alpine backdrop. It did not feel real. We talked and talked late into the night. We held onto each other like sisters who would be separated soon.
I heard many stories and shared a few of my own. After I spoke in front of a conference room of 200 people, a couple approached me. The husband used to be a professor at UPenn and now runs a social enterprise/business as mission in Kyrgyzstan. Her daughter teaches on a Native American reservation in the Southwest. The wife told me that she was very touched by what I had said. I almost laughed and began to apologize for my terrible public speaking. Speaking skills don’t matter as much, she said firmly. What I could tell was the message you shared came from the heart, and that is the more important thing. So then I n my heart I felt comforted, but in my head I said, I am not entirely convinced that is true. Several other schools and organizations also approached me, in an uncomfortably eager attempt (imagine elderly men requesting to sit with you at dinner time to tap the corners of their mouths with a napkin and share the most scintillating mission statements with a side of groveling) to recruit me because I am young and already have 3 years of experience in East Africa. I turned them all down by the end of the week. I left that path 2 years ago and I do not see myself going back. If I do go, I will go another way.
Now that it has been six months since my trip, I can hardly believe I was ever there. There are a few parts of it that I’d rather not recall. But I do have a pair of luxurious woolen slippers, deftly embroidered, with tips that curve sharply upward, that I wear around the house when I want to feel regal, to remind myself of who gifted them to me, and that I did really spend a very strange week gallivanting about Kyrgyzstan.
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Chronicles of an Elf 6
Links to Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, and Episode 5.
Episode 6: New Routines
Light spilled through the high window that was suspended well above the plain mattress in the small room that Luka was granted. The beam cascaded at just the right angle to shine obnoxiously across her face if she were laying. The irony was that it wasn’t morning. The light was being shined through by an outside sconce illuminating the fortresses outer walls. Instead she stood, appraising her new home after a long day of being in the sweltering heat of the forge with Tomlan. She grinded her teeth at the thought of him and turned to face the doorway.
Time was a concept that Luka was about as familiar with as anything else. Morning was morning. Afternoon was afternoon. Evening was evening. So staring up at the circular device with three extensions, one ticking away in a direction around the face while the two others moved far more slowly, gave her pause. It was placed just above the doorway into her quarters.
“That’s a clock,” a familiar yet unfamiliar voice said. Tetra stood in her doorway in the female form that Luka had seen earlier. “It’s used to tell time.”
Luka frowned. “Why didn’t the bunker have one?”
Tetra shrugged. “It requires power or batteries. Scavenging for pre-cataclysm batteries is a bit of a hassle and the electricity we were able to use had be used conservatively. Knowing the time wasn’t really a necessity.”
“A necessity? You kept me locked in a bunker for years and you want to talk about necessity?”
Tetra let out a long sigh that caused her shoulders to slump. “When it comes to elves, it’s incredibly hard to know who to trust outside of us. You were chained to a tree for a reason, and though that reason hasn’t been made apparent, the fact was that the culprits could have been on either side of the border.” She came closer and dragged the chair from the desk against the wall with her and sat down. “You need to understand that outside of our own kind, elves are either hated or coveted.”
“Coveted?” Luka asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“The human nations have a habit of wanting us for perverse reasons. Draconians are either neutral to us or want to destroy us for whatever war they happened to be in with us. Umbrans aren’t known to be the most likable of the realm. Sylvarians are usually detested for being…”
“Snobby?” Luka interjected.
Tetra chuckled. “That’s better than the word I was going to use.”
“And Temprests?”
“Surprisingly, the least despised. Probably because they keep to themselves in the great forests.”
“So you kept me sheltered and ignorant, out of what… concern? And why didn’t you get Laon involved prior to now?”
“Because the idea was to work the case on my own so not to draw attention from possible connections and leads. I wasn’t sure I could trust Laon completely, and you even migrating South into the capital has not only put a target on your back but has also basically informed the world that an Umbran managed to get into continent’s most fortified city without much effort.”
Luka pursed her lips in response before adding, “But what about us being attacked on the side of the road?”
Tetra shook her head. “An unfortunate event. They had been looking for you for over a decade prior to that point. It was carelessness on my part.”
“They followed us back to the bunker.”
“More carelessness on my part.”
“They got Whilsk!” Luka cried, kicking the leg of the bed.
“That I can assure you did not happen.”
“And how can you be so sure? Whilsk can’t use magic because she’s not a pure elf.”
“That doesn’t mean she isn’t capable. Whilsk’s official title is the Weapons Master. Not to mention, she is a Shadow Arts genius. The Fire Dragon Priestess’s guards were trained by Whilsk over a hundred years ago. Those teachings remain the core of their abilities today.”
Luka realized that she was very much a child in comparison to Tetra and Whilsk. Her life was still very much beginning. Tetra, known as the Blight of Sylvarnia and Whilsk, the Weapons Master. She felt like she truly didn’t know them after all. Who was she to them? They were trying to baby sit her while also trying to solve a case.
“Whilsk will be ok. I’d be more surprised if she hadn’t already murdered everyone involved in the infiltration,” Tetra chuckled.
Luka sighed. “So what will happen now?”
“Now,” Tetra said, puffing her chest out. “I go find her.”
“Will she even recognize you?”
Tetra took a moment to appraise herself. First her arms and then her torso and stomach, then her thighs and shins. She spun around absently and before nodding. “Whilsk is very much aware of my ability to change my gender based on how I feel.”
“How is that even a thing?”
“It’s specific to elven blights as we kind of already bridge the idea of—look that’s not the point. The point is, I can do this. Do you have a problem with that?”
Luka shook her head. “Absolutely not. Just offended that you would keep me in the dark for so long about this and other things.”
Tetra sighed. “I understand. Believe me when I tell you that it was all for your benefit, I promise.”
Luka rolled her eyes.
“I’ll be gone for a while. I plan to find Whilsk and the source of the attack on the bunker. Stay here and try not to draw unnecessary attention.”
“I’m apparently going to be working with a blacksmith. I’ll never see the light of day, so you won’t have to worry about that.”
“Don’t give me that. Laon wants you to earn your stay. Everyone who is in this fortress has a job. You get a place to sleep, food, and a wage for doing what you’re supposed to do.”
“Sounds like a lucrative means of keeping everyone in line,” Luka spat.
“It’s about making sure everyone has a place to sleep and a roof over their heads. Not everyone may enjoy their jobs, but that doesn’t mean they don’t like the perks.”
“And do you not like your job, Commander?” a new voice asked. Ultima stood in the doorway holding two duffle bags over one shoulder. A large claymore hung across his back.
Tetra smirked. “I never said I didn’t. But that’s neither here nor there.”
Ultima snorted. “We’re phantoms in fifteen.”
Tetra nodded as the prince walked away. She then turned to face Luka once. Her appearance began to change once again, slowly returning to the masculine form Luka was used to seeing. At a head taller than before, Tetra stared down at Luka and took her by the shoulders. “Going forward, you will need to be your own person. You will need to take accountability for yourself. Whilsk and I won’t be able to help you anymore. Now you’ve got to stand on your own two feet. Even when I bring Whilsk, it will be obvious that she won’t be able to walk away from this place like she could before. Now she will be forced to return to this life. I didn’t want that for you or for her. Do you understand?”
Luka nodded.
“I’ll see you in a few days if everything goes according to plan.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Luka asked.
“Then I won’t be seeing you at all, I imagine.” Tetra gave a sad smile, patted Luka on the head, and turned to leave. “You’ll have to find those answers on who you are and where you came from on your own without me.”
“Can’t say I’m happy about that.”
Tetra shook his head. “No. I imagine you won’t be happy with the outcome either.” And with that, Tetra turned to leave, moving out into the hall and out of sight.
Luka watched the door for a long while, hoping for something to change in its appearance, or for Tetra to return out of nowhere with Whilsk acting like all of this was a joke and that they were ready to go home. But the idea of home felt miles away, and Luka realized that the bunker was not a place she could easily return to anytime soon. Or maybe ever. She felt a tremor creep across her heart, causing her breath to come cascading through her lips. It was a new anxiety, one she wouldn’t understand until much later.
Her stomach growled, but she ignored the hunger that had been building up. Slowly, she closed the door in her disdain, deciding sleep was better than sating her appetite.
Luka woke before the sun rose the next morning and after dressing in an outfit that was more suitable to work in the forge than the armor she had on the day prior (yet keeping her traveling gloves on anyway), she made her way around the fort. Beyond the guards and soldiers that made their rounds, eyeing her suspiciously, she didn’t meet anyone else. She imagined that the reason they didn’t stop her to give her any trouble was due to Tetra or Ultima or maybe even Laon making a statement to leave her alone. Her wandering led her to a kitchen where a few draconians were setting up for the first meal of the day.
“Breakfast won’t be served until seven-thirty,” a massive man with a great big beard said upon Luka’s appearance. She noticed that he looked human in origin, which was insane for how tall he was. But his girth was just as impressive. He was thick, well fed, but equipped with muscles all across his arms and chest. His skin was pale and mottled in light brown spots across his nose and cheeks and forehead and his hair and beard were both the brightest orange and red she had over seen on someone.
“Seven thirty?” Luka repeated, twisting her nose slightly at the number.
“About two hours,” he said again as he began to stack pan after pan after on the wide counter. When Luka didn’t respond, he sighed. “Can you tell time?” he asked.
Luka slowly shook her head, her cheeks darkening in a mixture of shame and embarrassment.
His face turned to look at a large clock was mounted to the wall above a massive freezer door. “Do you see that?” he pointed. Luka nodded. “The long hand tells you the minute. The fat, short hand tells you the hour. So the fat short hand is pointed at a five, and the long hand is pointed at seven. Minutes go by five. So fat short hand is at five, long hand is at seven, count from the twelve: five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five, thirty, and thirty five. It’s five thirty five. Do you understand?”
Luka nodded. Telling time was easier than she anticipated. Not as easy as understand that mornings were when the some comes up and the world was mostly cool; noon was when the sun was at its highest point; and evening was when the sun was beginning to set. Night was dark. But this pinpointed time for her a bit more easily. Her stomach growled suddenly, loud enough for the larger man to hear.
He let out a loud snort. “Looks like you wont make it to breakfast.” He turned from her, opened a large cabinet and grabbed two apples, a banana, and hunk of bread, delivering the bounty to Luka on plate that must have been made of tin. As he approached, Luka realized just how big the guy was as his hand was almost twice the size of the plate.
“Thank you,” she said, almost surprised as he pushed the food in front of her. “Why are you being so nice?”
“Life isn’t easy for someone who doesn’t look like everyone else here. I’m Borg,” he nodded.
“Lukanay Fial. Luka for short,” she said as she took the hunk of bread and tore it in half. She then held up a half section to Borg.
He smiled warmly, “No, no little Luka. That’s for you. I ate already. Have you seen the size of me? I can’t keep this astounding physique without constantly eating!” he gave a hearty laugh and returned to setting up for the day. Luka ate the banana and an apple along with one of the pieces of bread. Borg gave her a bag to keep the rest in for later if she got hungry.
As Luka stood up to leave, Borg called over his shoulder, “Come by any time, little Luka.” She smiled and waved as she left with her bag in hand.
Luka arrived at the large doors to the forge. To her dismay they were unlocked and the fires were already beginning to glow. The large room that was dedicated to Draconia and Fort Dragoon’s armor and weapon making was mostly void of people, but she could make out a few individuals going through their morning routines to set up their fires.
Tomlan was one of those people. When Luka found him, he was stoking the coal with a long prod. A stack of billets of different colors were already set out to the side. He looked up to see Luka as she approached. “You’re early, Umbran.”
“When did you expect me to show up?” She asked.
“I didn’t. Put your apron and gloves on, we have a large order to fill.”
Luka set aside her bag with her bread and apple and pulled on the heavy leather apron and the thick gloves. She flexed her hands in them slowly, feeling how two sets of gloves worked together. She realized she would be handling iron, and thus her skin began to itch in response. The multiple pairs of gloves would definitely help her avoid her allergy.
“We have three swords to make and a battle axe head to get started on before noon. Grab two billets and lets get to work.”
Luka realized after a few hours of holding a billet down as Tomlan folded the piece over and over that he wasn’t well liked by the other blacksmiths. Draconians weren’t affected by flames or heat the same way Tomlan and she was. If they wore gloves, it was for the sake of grip and not for the sake of avoiding being burned. If they wore aprons, they were made of cloth, while Tomlan and Luka’s were made of leather in the event sparks were to hit them. He spent more time on individual blades as well. Many times Luka heard area blacksmiths chiding him as he worked diligently heat, hammer, and fold billets. Some even said he folded the metal too much. But Tomlan ignored them. Even when one particular Dragonian “accidentally” knocked Tomlan’s stacked billets over, he didn’t stop his progress. He kept working to ensure his products would get to a satisfying point.
Once a soon-to-be-blade reached enough folds, he taught Luka how to take a metal, “Spring Steel,” he called it, and fold it into the middle of the billet. “This will add shock absorption,” he noted. Once that combination was well heated, he began to hammer in quick succession turning the billet over until it began to elongate into the vague shape of a blade. His heating process was methodical, and he made sure his timing was exact, never wasting a minute in the process. When one billet was set into the fire to be heated, another was pulled forth from the embers, glowing yellow to be hammered further.
Three long broadswords were the end result of such a process, and though they were rough, Luka could tell how they were powerful and well made. The sun was shining through the open end of the room.
Tomlan cursed as he pulled the billet he had been heating from the forge for the axe head. Luka came close to see what his issue was. “This billet is inferior,” he said without giving much of an explanation, but she could see what he meant. Unlike his other billets that she had worked on with him, this one had crumbled along the one side and a large gaping hole could be seen.
Laughter could be heard from across the forge. “How’s the billet treating you, Tomlan?” one of the Draconians called. “Does it not meet your high standards?”
Tomlan spat into the fire and dropped the bad billet back into the flames. He turned to look at the pile of billets that had been knocked over earlier. He grabbed two and felt their weight before tossing them aside. Luka watched curiously before he finally grabbed one he was satisfied with and thrust it into the fire. “We should have been done with the first fold by now.”
“How long will it take for this one to heat?”
“Too long.”
“That can’t be helped,” Luka said before pulling off the top set of thick gloves.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hungry,” Luka stamped. Tomlan pursed his lips in response. She grabbed the bag that Borg had given to her earlier and pulled out the hunk of bread and the apple. She noticed Tomlan watching her. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
“That’s not concern of yours,” he snapped.
She frowned and broke the bread in half along the with the apple and handed him a piece of each. He refused at first but she forced the food into his hands. “You need to eat.”
For a moment, Luka worried he was going to throw the food into the fire and perhaps Tomlan was seriously considering it. But instead, he pulled off his gloves with his teeth and proceeded to eat the modest bounty Luka had shared.
As she ate in silence, Tomlan asked, “Why are you wearing two sets of gloves?”
She looked over curiously to find his expression had changed. She then looked to the tight leather traveling gloves on her palms. “I’m allergic,” she began before choosing her words carefully, “to certain things. Touching them causes extreme reactions to my skin. I always wear a pair of gloves so I don’t accidentally touch something and burn myself without realizing it.”
Tomlan was silent for a moment to her response before nodding. Just as he was about to say something, a messenger came up to him, departing a letter with him.
He took a moment to read it before frowning. “Twelve daggers and four full breast plates by the end of the week?” The messenger shrugged.
“Breaks over,” he sighed. “Our order has just increased on top of what we haven’t finished already.”
Luka frowned but for the first time since she started working with Tomlan, noticed a bit of warmth emanating toward him.
CONTINUE ON TO EPISODE 7!
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Ripped Jeans And Greasy Hair - Gerard Way x Reader
Summary: Hey, do you think you could write a Punk!Gerard High school au fic with tons of angst?
Warnings: bullying (I don’t know if this really is angsty, pls let me know how I can improve myself!)
Word count: 3 387
When you had been little, you always had wanted to go to school. You wanted to learn and make friends and have fun. Now that you were in High School, you still wanted to learn but you doubted that school was supposed to make you feel shitty about literally every single little thing you did. Not to mention the fact that making friends was harder than you had originally assumed. Your former best friend went to another High School so you had barely any contact anymore, and even over the two years you were already attending this school you had only managed to befriend a guy called Patrick, who went to your science class. Patrick was a sweet guy who loved to play drums. Most of your breaks were spent together with his friend Joe, a guy with blue eyes and a dark brown mop of hair. Spending breaks in groups lowered the chance of falling victim to the school bullies. All three of you had actually your fair share of experience with them. Both Patrick and Joe had ended up in dumpsters before and you had once been locked into your own locker for an hour, resulting in you asking Patrick for a week to get your things from the locker for you. Once, Joe had even been shoved head first into a toilet, which lead to the one time Patrick actually got aggressive. No matter how small he was, he seemed to have impressed the bullies at least a little since they stayed away from the three of you after that. You still felt them eyeing you every now and then and you definitely felt saver with Joe or Patrick around, but generally you could not complain. At least not about the bullies.
That was until Patrick and Joe went on a student exchange to Spain. The first days everything seemed fine but soon you noticed the glares of the bulky boys and Barbie girls who loved to bully everyone around them who was not ‘perfect’ like them. And as if that would not have been enough, you also noticed how the school’s troublemaker, a guy named Gerard, kept his eyes on you. He had longish black hair and always walked around in ripped black jeans and a leather jacket. The only thing that seemed to change about him was the black band shirts he wore to school. He was famous for getting into all kinds of trouble, be it fighting with the teachers, insulting or beating up other students or destroying the lockers of students he disliked. You knew Gerard from seeing him in most of your breaks. He always hung out in the same part of the playground as Patrick, Joe and you. Genareally he seemed like a guy who wanted to be left alone, but when someone pissed him off, he acted out. On the one hand you admired him for having the courage, on the other hand: he always overdid it. But now that you noticed his eyes following you in the corridors, you started to feel uneasy.
By Thursday you felt so sick in the morning that you considered not going to school at all, but in the end you did. You were welcomed by the dark, badly lit corridors as usual, the cold smoke of cigarettes, that had not been allowed to be smoked in here, hanging in the air. And you were almost certain that between smoke, cleansing agents and sweat the fine note of alcohol hovered as well. No one had ever said your school was not fucked up.
You walked your way down the corridor to your locker, and were welcomed with a nasty surprise. Someone had written ‘loser’ in big letters diagonally over your locker; with red spray paint. You knew it was fresh, the smell of the solvent still well detectable in the air, but the writing had already dried. You stared at it for a moment. If it had been possible, you would have started feeling even sicker than you already did, but it was not. You considered for a moment to break into tears and beat up your locker, but that would only please the people who had done that, so you held back your emotions and grabbed the things from your locker that you needed.
Apparently you seemed to be the school bullies new favorite victim since at noon the tray with your lunch was forcibly pushed out of your tight grip and spread all over your clothes and the floor around you. For the rest of the day you had to walk around the stains of the sauce on your shirt and jeans still well visible, even after washing it out several times. You told yourself to ignore the laughs and the pointed fingers and the elbows you got in your ribs, but by the time you arrived home, you smashed the front door shut, sunk to your knees and cried. With still tear wet cheeks you undressed yourself and threw the clothes in the washing machine before putting on your favorite oversized sweater and some sweats. You turned up your music so loud that it drained out the thoughts in your head while you lay on your bed, wondering if there existed a non-permanent way to die, something like temporary non-existance, a possibility to continue existing when Patrick and Joe were back from Spain. After a while you got a slight headache from the music so you turned it off. You continued laying on your bed, not thinking about anything specific until you decided it was time for your homework. You read a few chapters of the book you were currently studying in English Literature and finished some worksheets for Spanish. But when you planed on doing your math homework, you realized that your book was missing. You searched everywhere for it, you even emptied your schoolbag on the floor, but it was nowhere to be found. Just when you were about to give up and sent a string of curse words towards heaven, a ring on the door disturbed you. Wondering who would pay you a visit in the late afternoon, it had to be for you, since your mother was not home from work yet, you walked downstairs and opened up. To your big surprise it was Gerard who stood in front of your door.
“You lost your book,” he told you, extending his hand towards you, holding the math book you had been searching for just a few minutes ago.
Hesitantly you scanned his face before you quickly took the book from him. You hated admitting it, but he was very intimidating, with his black, greasy hair falling into his eyes, the leather jacket and a grim expression on his face.
“How do know where I live?” You were not sure you felt comfortable with him knowing where your home was.
He looked at you, pushing a strand of hair out of his face, revealing a cut across his eyebrow that seemed pretty fresh. His hazel eyes scanned your face as if to make sure your question had been serieous.
“Dude, I live literally across the street,” he told you, pointing towards the house opposite yours.
Oh.
Without another word he turned around and walked away from your house.
“Thanks,” you shouted after him but he did not react, even though you were sure he had heard you.
Awkwardly you closed the door. Had that really been Gerard, who had brought you your math book? You had never thought of him as especially considerate, but maybe you had to rethink.
~*~
The next morning you felt even sicker than before. You lay in bed for half an hour, wondering if there was any chance that this day could get any better than the last, but in the end, your optimism won. Your locker was already disfigured and school ended early today so there was no chance for anyone to empty your tray onto your shirt. You got out of bed, put on some comfortable, yet decent clothes and headed downstairs for a quick breakfast.
Your mother had already been waiting for you. Yesterday evening, when she had asked you how your day had been, you had lied to her, saying everything was fine, even though things were far from fine. You were just scared that she would tell you to stand up for yourself and that it was also your fault if people bullied you. Maybe she would have been right, and that scared you even more. But today she noticed something was up. Her eyes worriedly scanned the Smashing Pumpkins shirt you wore and the slightly oversized cardigan that was basically used as a ground for your many patches and buttons. You could feel her glances and you knew she was desperate to know what made you so anxious that you put on both of the pieces of clothing that made you feel save, but she did not ask, which you were thankful for. Instead she wished you a good day and handed you a Tetra Pak with apple juice, something she had not done in years. You understood it as an encouragement and smiled at her before you stepped outside the house.
Had you really thought, today could not be worse than the day before? Some really ‘funny’ people had decided to flood your locker so you had to spent first lesson explaining to several different people that you had no part in destroying your school books. You barely made it to the second lesson in time, just to stumble into a beginning test. To your surprise you managed to survive the break without any incident and even ignored the many spitballs that were launched at you over the course of your final two lessons. When the bell rang and you believed you were finally able to escape the hell that school had become, you were proven wrong.
You had just stepped outside the classroom and walked a few meters away, when a 6 foot something dick of a guy, who was so muscular that you were certain chemicals were involved somewhere along the way, poured his energy drink intentionally over your head. You gasped at the cold, bubbling liquid that ran down your face and into your clothes making everything sticky and stinking of chemicals that were added into the artificial beverage. You barely heard the malicious laughter of the other students over the ringing in your ears. You were almost thankful that your face was wet already so if a tear would escape your eyes, it would not be noticeable. You tried to fight your way through the crowd of students, focusing on the floor in front of you. You pushed past several people who probably were not involved, but jeered at you anyway. Just when you almost had reached your locker, you were forcefully punched in the side, by another bulky student. The impact made you stumble sideways and you bumped painfully into one of the lockers. A stinging pain shot through your shoulder and all air was pressed out of your lungs, resulting in a pathetic wheeze. You could hear the laughter erupting around you, while your hand quickly moved to cover the part of your shoulder that hurt the most, your head spinning from the sudden sideways motion. Before you could even properly comprehend what was happening around you, a figure had jumped in front of you, protecting you from the sight of the other students or further attacks.
“Leave them the fuck alone!”
You could not place exactly where you had heard the voice before, but you felt incredibly grateful for whoever it was that stood up to the people bullying you.
“Uh, playing savior, Way?” a snarling voice asked.
A big hand grabbed your upper arm and pulled you to your feet, dragging you away from the crowd.
“Don’t ever touch them again,” the voice next to you answered in a dangerous growl, but continued dragging you away.
“Much in love, are we?”
You really felt the need to punch this guy in the face, but you still were dizzy and completely confused, not to mention the iron grip around your arm.
“Go fuck yourself,” the person next to you mumbled before you finally walked through a door and a breeze of fresh wind fanned over your heated skin.
You were sat down on a bench under one of the trees and had finally the chance to look at who had gotten you out of this messed up situation.
You recognized the ripped jeans, the leather jacket and the greasy hair immediately; even though Gerard was the last person you had expected to see. He knelt down in front of you, pushing hair out of his face and looked at you carefully, his eyes full of concern.
“You okay?”
His voice was soft, nothing like the dangerous, hard tone he had used towards the other students.
You nodded, even though you were not sure if you really were okay. You shoulder hurt and you felt dizzy, not to mention the cold, sticky energy drink that wetted your hair, face and clothes.
Gerard reached for his pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, dipping it over your face gently to dry your skin. You let him. You had no idea why he was helping you, why he was so kind, but right now you did not care. You desperately needed someone who looked after you right now, and even though you had always considered Gerard to be trouble, right now he was comforting to be around. You tried to hold back the sobs and tears that were threatening to surface and instead concentrated on his face. His features were soft and almost fragile, with a bit of makeup he could easily pass as a beautiful girl. His eyes were of a deep hazel and focused on your face, which made you suddenly very self-conscious.
“Let’s get you home, shall we?”
Gerard looked up at you with soft eyes and you nodded. He stood up and noticed you had problems standing straight.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, worry laced in his voice.
“Yeah, it’s just… it’s a bit much, you know?”
You smiled up at him excusing. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist and led you through the back gate of the playground to his car.
He made sure you were buckled in safely before starting the motor and driving towards your street. He stopped the car in front of your house, helping you out of the car and accompanying you to the door.
“Will you be okay?”
For a moment you hesitated. You really did not want to be alone right now, you knew, your negative thoughts would overwhelm you the second you were alone.
“Could you come inside with me?”
Shyly you looked up at him, catching the moment of surprise on his face, but he quickly regained his confidence.
“If you want to, sure,” he smiled gently.
You pushed open the door and led him inside.
“Do you want something to drink,” you offered, but he shook his head.
Together you walked upstairs, Gerard following you as if he was scared you would fall down the stairs any moment. You opened the door to your room and pointed to the bed.
“Would you mind to wait for a few minutes, I’d really like to take a shower,” you explained. The sticky and stinking liquid on your skin felt worse with every second.
“Sure, take your time, sugar,” Gerard answered, his eyes scanning your room.
You were slightly surprised by what he had called you but your mind was still trying to wrap around everything that happened in the last thirty minutes, so you just grabbed a fresh set of clothes and headed to the bathroom.
When you returned to your room only a few minutes later, still rubbing your wet hair dry with a towel, you found Gerard sitting in front of your CD collection. He had taken off his leather jacket and thrown it over the back of your chair. Without his jacket he looked weirdly naked, only wearing a shirt and jeans.
“Smashing Pumpkins, eh?” He held up one of the albums.
“Yeah,” you smiled, “Do you know them?”
“If I know them? Oh man, I love them!” Gerard exclaimed happily, putting the CD back in its place.
You sat down on your bed, suddenly feeling tired and worn out. You felt the mattress dip next to you and when you looked up, Gerard had sat down at your side. His eyes were studying your face as if he could read your thoughts that way.
“What’s your beef with these guys at school anyway,” he suddenly enquired.
You felt a suspicious burning at the back of your throat and in your eyes, but you answered anyway, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice. “If I only knew…”
“But that’s new, right? Usually they left you alone, didn’t they?”
Gerard seemed not to notice that you were close to tears.
“Usually I’m with Patrick and Joe, then they leave us alone, but they’re both on student exchange right now,” you explained.
“Patrick’s your boyfriend?”
Confused you looked up at him, a smile playing around your lips. “Ugh, no, ‘Trick’s like, my best friend.”
“What about Joe?”
“No, no. Joe’s a great guy, but no.”
“Any boyfriend at all? Girlfriend, love interest?”
“You ask an awful lot of questions, you know that?” you giggled, looking up at Gerard, who smiled lovingly at you.
“Just making sure, if I got a chance,” he told you, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks.
You smiled, too exhausted to feel deeply flattered by his words as you usually would. Instead you jokingly nudged him in the shoulder. He giggled and you continued sitting on your bed in silence for a while.
“I just don’t know what I’ve done to them to treat me that way.” Your voice was wet with tears and finally they rolled down your cheeks, dropping into your lap.
Gerard wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his chest.
“Some people are just plainly assholes, who love to see other people suffer,” he mumbled, stroking you damp hair.
“But why?” By now you sobs were ripping through your body and Gerard pulled you down with him to lay on your bed.
“Because they got no heart,” he whispered. “That’s why we should pity them.”
“Easier said than done,” you sobbed.
There was silence for a while before you spoke up again.
“I just wanna run away. Like. Take the car, turn the music up real loud and drive south to Florida, or California. Somewhere where it’s warm and with the sea. Maybe I can find a place to belong there.”
“If you do, let me know, I’ll come with you,” Gerard told you quietly.
“Why would you?”
“Because you’re not the only one who feels like they don’t belong here. And you are a fucking amazing person, sugar, I think we’d be a good team.”
You curled tightly into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt and nuzzling your nose against his neck. He smelled of shampoo and coffee. Your sobs died down and your eye lids grew heavy. Gerard had his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close to him, every other minute stroking your head or your back affectionately. You could feel yourself relaxing to the even rhythm of his breath and his heartbeat and soon you had fallen asleep.
When your mother came home a few hours later and checked in on you, she found you cuddled into the side of a young man who she recognized as one of the neighbors’ boys. He looked up at her, careful not to disturb the sleeping figure at his side.
Your mother’s eyes scanned the situation for a second and a slight smile spread over her face. She knew something had been off this morning and she was glad that you had found someone who you trusted to look after you.
“Tough day?” she asked quietly and the boy nodded, again careful not to wake you.
She smiled softly and quietly pulled the door closed.
Part Two
#fanfiction#fanfic#romance#gerard way#gerard way x reader#gerard way fluff#punk!gerard#fluff#angst#my chemical romance#my chemical romance angst
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Hello, I have a male betta fish, named Blue. I have no other tank mates for him, yet, but may wish to get a sand for his ten gallon tank that I have him in. Do you know if white sand is safe if I plan on getting marimo plants? Or should I keep the gravel I have now. He's been in the tank alone for three months now since I've had him, and hes much better since the cup he came home in. Do you recommend sand, tank mates, or marimo plants? I hope to upgrade his home and am slightly nervous.
Hey there @creepylupaboi ! :DDo you know if white sand is safe if I plan on getting marimo plants?White sand is safe for any plants, fish, inverts, etc. As long as its made for aquariums, you shouldn’t have to worry about anything leaching into the water :p I hear you can also use blasting sand and pool filter sand but I haven’t personally used either. I have the Imagitarium brand sand in 2 of my tanks (black and white) and I like it so far :) Sometimes when I roll my marimos over or move them around the tank, they pick up a little bit of sand, but the sand I have doesn’t stick to them if I shake them off :pOr should I keep the gravel I have now.Marimos can be kept on any substrate ^-^ gravel, large stones, small stones, river rocks, sand, shells (don’t put real shells in a betta aquarium tho), or barebottom :pDo you recommend sand, Substrate is a matter of personal preference! Pick whatever you think looks good :) Some fish require sand or bare bottom tanks (like cories or goldfish), but bettas do well with any substrate :)tank mates,I personally think that a tank with just one betta looks a little empty (personal preference, nothing wrong with a 1-betta-only tank :D) so I put snails in all of my betta tanks ^-^ Shrimp and snails are the best choices for smaller betta setups, but in a 10-20+ gallon tank you could do some fish as well if you wanted to, and since you mentioned you wanted to upgrade your bettas home, I’d say you could definitely have 1-2 schools/shoals of fish if your betta is chill and doesn’t becomes stressed in a community-tank type setting :D Here’s an excerpt from my betta care guide regarding tankmates:
I’ll preface this section by stating that bettas don’t need tankmates! :) Tankmates are more for you than for your fish, and should be chosen carefully.
Tankmates in General:-please remember to make sure that your tank is suitable for the tank mates you wish to house; you wouldn’t keep your betta in a 1 gallon unfiltered/unheated tank, so don’t do the equivalent to your betta’s tankmates your fish are all equal, so please, please, please make sure that you put in the same amount of research and care for the tankmates that you do for your betta! make sure your tank mates have the same requirements are your betta, and their temperament won’t put your betta at risk.-ALWAYS DO RESEARCH ON THE SPECIES YOURE CONSIDERING BEFORE PURCHASING!! :)-always have a backup plan in case your tankmates don’t get along with your betta, or your betta doesn’t get along with his tankmates -a 20 gallon is the best minimum choice for a community-style betta tank, as it opens up more options and gives your betta and his/her tankmates plenty of space!-be prepared to separate/rehome/etc. “problem fish” or a “problem betta”. if your betta isn’t really the community type, don’t try to force him/her to be; it won’t work out well for anyone. Get that betta an individual setup as soon as possible, or if your tank is large enough, divide it so that your betta has his/her own space. Corydoras:shoaling, 6+ to a group - keeping them in groups smaller than this will stress them to death…literally sometimes10+ gallons (dwarf/pygmy), 20+ gallons (regular)tropical, lots of species to choose fromsand/barebottom is a MUST - p they have soft bellies and sensitive barbels, and gravel can scratch up their bellies (which leads to stress or infection) or damage their barbels o.o also, they sift through sand to find little bits of food naturally, so sand lets them display this natural behavior and you get to see it too!Rasboras:schooling, 6+ to a school – keeping them in schools smaller than this will stress out the fish10-20+ gallons – depending on the speciestropical, lots of species to choose fromnote: “galaxy rasboras” are NOT rasboras (true rasboras belong to the boraras genus). Galaxy rasboras are actually a species of danio (other common name: celestial pearl danio) and are not tropical.Snails:under 10 gallons: nerites, ramshorns, horned nerites, and other small snails10+ gallons: mystery snails & other snails listed above – mystery snails get quite large and have a bioload as large, if not larger, than your betta’s, so a mystery snail is more suited to living in a 10 gallon tank than in something smallershrimp:not all bettas are “shrimp-safe”, meaning that if you want to try shrimp, you should be prepared for the worst case scenario: your betta eats them! if youre okay with the possibility that you may lose some shrimp, then i suggest starting out with a few shrimp.Amano shrimp are larger, great for algae, should be kept in groups of at least 3-5cherry shrimp (and other neocardinia sp.) are hardy, but small (most likely to be a tasty snack). They are super colorful/many variations to choose from tho!ghost shrimp can actually be nippy, so I’d recommend against them, even though they’re pretty cheap~putting shrimp in a 2.5 gallon tank is doable, but a 5 gallon tank would be much better since it would give you more space to provide lots of hiding places for the shrimp :)otocinclus:do best in groups, 3+ - they’re not traditional shoaling or schooling fish, but are still social20+ gallons - otos are sensitive to water qualityif your tank doesn’t have a ton of algae for them to eat, then I suggest supplementing their diet with cucumbers/zucchini/algae wafers/etc. plecos:tank size depends completely on the species your considering, there are a ton!! Even the smaller species of pleco have minimums of 30-40+ gallons, so keep that in mind :) I suggest supplementing their diet with cucumbers/zucchini/algae wafers/etc. ember tetras:schooling, 6+ to a school – keeping the in schools smaller than this will stress out the fish10+ gallons – they do ok in a 10, but would prefer a 15 (long) or a 20 gallon!
or marimo plants?I love marimos! I have a TON :D I definitely recommend them ^-^ when looking for places to buy from, though, do your best to purchase healthy ones~ I’m not too good at reviving/saving the ones that have started to brown, so I try to look for ones with little to no brown spots and a bright green color :D
I hope to upgrade his home and am slightly nervous.It’s great that you’re looking to upgrade and I’m glad that Blue is doing much better since he’s come home with you! :D Don’t be nervous about upgrading, it’s a good thing! /* If anyone has any changes/corrections/suggestions to make, feel free to reblog/comment/let me know :) */
#roni replies#ask#creepylupaboi#bettablr#fishblr#aquablr#fish tank#aquarium#stocking#tankmates#betta tankmates#marimo#marimo moss ball#moss ball#substrate#sand#Blue the betta
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Crossing The Great Sea - Chapter 2 (Linked Universe)
Word count ; 2241 (bound to make mistakes)
Archive of our own
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
“Most of you aren’t from this world are you?”
The heroes stiffened. Time froze. The others weren’t sure what to do either, their leader being stunned didn’t help.
“Come on fairy boy,” Jacalyn smiled, rolling her eyes, “like I said it’s a yes or no question.”
“Jacalyn…” Amila reached an arm out and placed it on Jacalyn’s shoulder. The latter let out a deep sigh, her smile finally dropping.
“Look, the faces you’re making and the silence tells me all I need to know. My theory is correct. We can get you to a different Hyrule, but we’ll have to head north. Far north. You are welcome to any area on the ship, it’s going to be a long ride.”
After Jacalyn gave her speech she walked into the hull, not speaking a word to anyone.
The crew gave each other uncomfortable looks, Amila gave an awkward smile to the heroes, ���She’s just….. well, I’m not sure. But she isn’t a bad person. We will get to another Hyrule,” Amila scanned the heroes, eyes landing on wild, “I think it belongs to him.”
Before the heroes could question she continued, “The people there spoke of a hero clad in blue with scars.”
“So you’ve been there?” Wild asked stepping forward, he had met, or tried to meet, everyone in his Hyrule.
Amila’s smile became more real, “Yes, we’ve been to a few different Hyrules, but we weren’t expecting there to be nine of you.”
“I’ll show you what we have set up, it’s a storage room that we set up some beds in, I hope that’s ok.” Amlia smiled. “That’ll be fine. Thank you.” Time regained his composure.
Amila led them to the storage room, they passed by what was most likely Jacalyn’s room, seeing as she was seated over a mess of papers in front of her. The heroes thanked Amila and set their stuff down. In the distance, Legend could her Amila’s and Jacalyn’s voices, but did his best to ignore them and turn to his own companions.
“So…” Four made a questioning gesture.
Time sighed, “We wait. They don’t seem bad.”
“And we could take them if they attack.” Wild chimed in.
So the heroes walked back out, Time stopped Wind with a gentle hand on the shoulder, “You still have all the maps?” WInd nodded eagerly and grabbed a bunch of maps from his bag. Wind spread out the map of the great sea and pointed where Outset was, and how far north they’d have to go to leave the great sea. Once Time got a basic understanding and the two walked back out to the deck.
The heroes had taken up places around.
Wild was climbing the main mass, much to the distress of Amila. Twilight was watching him.
Legend and Hyrule were next to Hal, who had taken up the Helm.
Four was sitting writing in a journal.
Warriors was helping Fellin and Wilian do some chores.
Ren was hovered over some maps, Qin close by. Wind walked over to them and engaged in the conversation.
Sky was standing at the bow with Jacalyn, the two were laughing, “You’re kinda a dork,” Jacalyn snickered. Sky rubbed the back of his neck.
Time shrugged and sat by Four, and decided to enjoy the show.
When Sky had walked out the other crew members offered an awkward smile before returning to their routine. Everyone else went off and Sky felt himself gazing up towards, well, the sky again. Amelia and Jacalyn walked out, the former immediately started to fret over Wild, who had begun preparing himself for the climb. The latter walked to the front of the ship.
Sky took it upon himself to try to befriend her.
“So you traveled a lot?” Sky placed himself next to her.
“Yeah, traveled as long as I can remember.”
“How long have you traveled between Hyrules?”
Jacalyn shrugged, “Couple months ago I began to notice, when you gather stories you tend to notice similarities and differences between tall tales.”
She then looked at Sky, “Don’t think I’ve heard yours, care to humor me?”
Sky smiled, “Sure.”
And so he began to tell her about his journey, she called him a dork when he talked about his interactions with Zelda. He didn’t give all the details of course, like he was the reason the main threat to the lands existed. He hadn’t truly told the others yet.
Eventually, they’d get to that eventually.
“‘He’ll be fine!’ they said! I will not be responsible when he falls.” Amila mumbled to herself as she pulled away from Wild being, ….wild.
Twilight had said it was normal, be he still watched wild closely so that did not help her anxiety. Amila had walked over to Ren, Qin, and Wild, who were still looking over maps.
Wind wasn’t sure why he had become the designated map holder of the group, but he was. Along with his own gather maps, the others had handed theirs for him to keep safe. So Wind had laid out all the maps which had open ocean, which was less than he thought.
“You went all over the great sea?!” Ren sounded impressed.
“Yeah, I ended up going to most of these places for my quest so…” Wind smiled, he was started to miss Tetra and the King of Red Lions.
Amila leaned over, “Where is that?” She pointed at the maps Wind had gotten with….
“Those are from when Tetra was captured by a ghost ship, so I went with Linebeck and Ciela.” Wind smiled, remember his old friends.
Amila hummed, “So that old sailor still gets around.”
Wind turned to her, “You knew Linebeck?”
She gently laughed, “Only in passing, we ran into him once, he tried to help us with….” Amila’s face soured, for only a sec before she gave an embarrassed smile, “I don’t remember, He did his best so it doesn't matter anymore.”
Wind looked at her, he knew there was more. You wouldn’t just forget something, would you? Amila seemed to shrug it off, and Wind knew not to dive into other people business.
That didn’t stop him from being curious though.
The sun was beginning to set, Wilian offered to take the first shift, Hyrule offered to join. Once that was decided the other went in and ended the first day. The next few days followed a similar routine, everyone would do their own thing. If Jacalyn got a moment, she’d ask one of the heroes to share their tale. Most did so with pleasure, some were more reserved.
About a week in, Four and Wind decided to ask Jacalyn to tell a story. The other crewmen seemed to gather around, excited to hear her speak, even Amila gestured for all the heroes to join. So they all gathered close to Jacalyn, even Qin who had taken the helm seemed to lean close.
“Any request?” Jacalyn raised a brow to her boys.
“Do the one that’s a song.” Wilian smiled.
The others nodded. Jacalyn shrugged, “I don’t remember how the song went, since I only heard it once as a child, but I remember the tale it told.”
Time sat back and listen to the girl tell her story, a story that sounded oh so familiar. A story told by a little girl, with bright brown eyes.
It was years ago, Time and Malon had traveled to a far beach. They were currently listening to a young girl, he couldn’t remember her name. Two others were with them listening to the girl. She had a somber tone, lowering her voice, “...but even as I knew the end was approaching, I knew he was waiting for me….. You want to know what I did?”
“So what did you do?” Malon asked, either humoring the girl or genuinely curious where the story was going.
“I’ll tell you what I did, I screamed louder than lightning and burned the King inside out!” The girl raised her arms in victory as all the adults around clapped.
“Great story.” One of the other adults smiled.
The girl must have run off or something, because the next clear memory was Time and Malon talking to the two adults. “So is she yours?” Malon asked sweetly.
The guy shook his head, “No, we found her with the boat. We think it’s her’s, all the books are in her handwriting.”
The other continued, “We’re more like an older sibling than parents as well.”
Time looked over at the child, she was talking with someone.
The memory transitioned once again to where it was just Time and the child, “So that boat is yours?” Time asked. He couldn’t remember the boat in question.
The girl seemed uncomfortable. Time wasn’t too used to watching over little ones but he was trying. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t want it though.” The girl's eyes seemed glued to the ground.
“Don’t want it-” Time was interrupted.
“I heard you were a hero. What’s your story?”
Time stood once again in silence. The girl's eyes seemed sad, and it was clear this was all she was wanting at the moment.
Time let out a low hum, “I’ll tell you my story, if you tell me another one of yours.”
The girl beamed and nodded eagerly. After that, the memory faded and Time was slowly dragged back to reality. Twilight was standing in front of him.
“Zone out old man?” Twilight extended a hand to his mentor. Time took it and laughed, “For a little while there.”
“Well Warriors is taking the first shift with Fellin, so we should head in.” Twilight gestured to the hull, which everyone else was already entering. They entered the room and everyone was settling down. Time walked over to Four.
“Do you have any extra journals?” Time asked.
“Four gave him a questioning look then shrugged, reaching into his bag, “Here you go, it helps clear the mind.” Four handed the old man a simple back notebook, winking.
Time smiled and thanked him. Once back on his own cot, he began to write down what he had remembered, feeling it may be important.
“We can read any of these?” Wild, Four, Wind and Legend stood in front of a smaller bookshelf filled with leather bound books.
“I don’t see why not. Shouldn’t be anything you can’t see. Just stories I managed to jot down.” Jacalyn shrugged. She walked out of the study with a wave of her hand and something along the lines of ‘enjoy’.
Wild carried the journals of his old friends and found that what was written could explain a lot about a person. Time had said they should learn more about the people on the ship. What better way than by seeing what books they kept?
Legend picked out a book from the middle and opened to the first page, ‘Maw of the King’. “I think this is the story she told the other day.” Legend read through it, and as he thought, scribbled down in childish handwriting was the story Jacalyn told. There was more than one story per book.
Wild grabbed another, ‘Calamity Ganon’. Wild felt a chill run up his spin, of course the first one he grabbed was this one.
The two smaller heroes followed suit, grabbing a book and reading the stories within.
Jacalyn walked out on the deck, breathing the sea breeze. In the distance she could spot the outline of Greatfish Isle. She was hoping to pass by it sooner, but the wind had not been on their side, and she felt that if ‘The hero of the Wind’ wanted to help, he would have already. She could always ask but, then they would be gone sooner. Part of her wanted that, the other wanted to finish hearing the stories they told.
Jacalyn found Hyrule sitting by himself. She stood next to him, out of the heroes, he seemed the quietest.
Four had found a book covered in a thick layer of dust, and unlike the others, it had something written on the cover. It was in a language he didn’t recognize. The inside was written in common Hylian though;
She was turned to stone. He betrayed his crew. The poor kid learned this and still helped the old man. Now that’s commitment.
He was turned, possessed, used, no matter how you word it facing a friend, a comrade…. that has to be hard.
All ends well. Everything is ok. It always ends like that. He wants to help us. Or he said that. He spoke so highly of the boy, now he barely remembers him. It’s their fault. I have to fix this. For him. For the others. Before they forget too.
Four looked at it. That was all that was written, scribbled more like it. A chill ran up his spine. He turned the pages, nothing. The rest was blank. Why? Four made his way to Jacalyn, The girl looked at the book and opened it. Her face remained neutral as she scanned the words.
“Can’t say I know what this is.” Jacalyn’s told him handing it back, “But it gives off bad vibes, I probably wouldn’t look into it too much.”
Four gave her a nod, but of course he was going to look into it. If he was going to be stuck on this boat with a mystery in front of him, why shouldn’t he solve it?
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