![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[sticky entry]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/entry/sticky_entry.png){kind=small}
- Lizard Pants
- Cuddling Gods
- Scope
- Limitless
- Starshine
- Veil
- Curtain
- Lurking +
- Spectre
- Charm
Extra curricular
Dec. 5th, 2015 08:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aestrixThe next class in pre-jump Earth literature occurs.
Frank is early, actually. He sits at his desk with a large smile on his face, greeting students by name despite the slight hints of red around his eyes and the prominent box of tissues that have mysteriously appeared within easy reach.
It is probable that he cried, but hard to prove considering the evidence.
Frank is early, actually. He sits at his desk with a large smile on his face, greeting students by name despite the slight hints of red around his eyes and the prominent box of tissues that have mysteriously appeared within easy reach.
It is probable that he cried, but hard to prove considering the evidence.
Pre-Jump Earth Literature
Nov. 28th, 2015 08:29 pmaestrixIt's a new term, and the end of the break between terms most students have been enjoying. But time marches ever on, and so at 1:00 PM, just after lunch, twenty-six students all around the age of fifteen are finding seats in an obnoxiously decorated classroom. It's one of those classrooms that tries very hard to be peppy and inspirational, and only succeeds at being very out of touch, and kind of creepy.
Soon it will be time to read about things long-dead people wrote.
Soon it will be time to read about things long-dead people wrote.
How do you pick things up?
Nov. 27th, 2015 11:18 amonly_dabbledJowan is very excited about introducing Quickbright to all of the little things that being human involves. Food! Books! Walks in the park! Jowan gets very good at making information packets to send to Quickbright - this is what a pear tastes like, this is what being in sunlight feels like, this is how his boots feel on his feet. When they run out of easy stuff, Jowan proposes that they go to new interesting places so he can show what those are like, too.
He isn't after ultimate cosmic power - he seems to just be thrilled to have a neat friend he can share cool things with.
He isn't after ultimate cosmic power - he seems to just be thrilled to have a neat friend he can share cool things with.
aestrixThere are two exits to Orzammar.
One leads to the surface. There, the sky stretches infinitely far and is so big it looks like it'll swallow something as measly as a single dwarf whole, never to be seen again. There, the elements change on a whim - baking sun and freezing snow and chilling rain and wind so fast one might think they'll be swept up and carried off to the ends of the world. Filled with humans and elves and qunari and mages and templars and priests and soldiers and kings and queens and Fereldans and Free Marchers and Orlesians and Tevinters and Nevarrans and Antivans and all of them are trying to kill each other. The castes, if they can even be called such, are ever shifting and opaque to the outside observer, and change based on whim and circumstance. One never knows where they stand in the world like a dwarf knows their caste, one never knows their future like a dwarf knows Orzammar. Poor fools die, betrayed for a glint of coin by those they thought their brother, and then left in a ditch to rot, not even the comfort of Stone above their head.
The other leads to the Deep Roads.
Of the two, the exit to the Deep Roads is far, far worse.
The escort taking Stalas away takes him to that one.
Pyral Harrowmont stands in front of the door, eyes sad. He is the only one present to see the once-prince off.
One leads to the surface. There, the sky stretches infinitely far and is so big it looks like it'll swallow something as measly as a single dwarf whole, never to be seen again. There, the elements change on a whim - baking sun and freezing snow and chilling rain and wind so fast one might think they'll be swept up and carried off to the ends of the world. Filled with humans and elves and qunari and mages and templars and priests and soldiers and kings and queens and Fereldans and Free Marchers and Orlesians and Tevinters and Nevarrans and Antivans and all of them are trying to kill each other. The castes, if they can even be called such, are ever shifting and opaque to the outside observer, and change based on whim and circumstance. One never knows where they stand in the world like a dwarf knows their caste, one never knows their future like a dwarf knows Orzammar. Poor fools die, betrayed for a glint of coin by those they thought their brother, and then left in a ditch to rot, not even the comfort of Stone above their head.
The other leads to the Deep Roads.
Of the two, the exit to the Deep Roads is far, far worse.
The escort taking Stalas away takes him to that one.
Pyral Harrowmont stands in front of the door, eyes sad. He is the only one present to see the once-prince off.
Storm and sea and loads of money
Jul. 27th, 2015 06:16 pmaestrixThere's supposed to be an ocean goddess, south of Raezenoth. According to him (and his acolyte) she is terrible.
But maybe someone would like to have a closer look.
But maybe someone would like to have a closer look.
Well I think I'm friendly
Jul. 27th, 2015 03:06 pmthe_fires_deepMost gods keep their manifested form somewhere in their domain. It's useful, certainly - having the equivalent of an acolyte running around, one who doesn't need to eat, or sleep. You can dart about your domain, all day, and get a thousand things done.
This particular goddess thinks her manifested form is possibly more suited elsewhere. Her domain is rather small, her followers loyal, and happy, and safe. But her neighbors are many, and her acolytes few, and there is always value in walking among mortals. Her power, while valuable (and she does not, for a second, regret choosing it) doesn't help very much against physical confrontation. A god could smite one of her mortals, and they'd be gone, and there would be nothing she could do to bring them back.
But if a god were to smite her body, the losses could be recuperated. It'd be annoying, and tedious, but she would ultimately be fine, if she still had followers to sustain her. So she is the one to visit other gods. She's, comparatively, expendable.
She's practiced getting the voice right, because a goddess gets tired of walking into a town and saying, "Hello," and having everyone present completely freak out. Or fawning over her. Or dumping a ton of presents at her feet. Or, in one memorable case, running for their lives. Possibly not the smartest thing to do, but the goddess wasn't offended. She even caught up with him (with a different face, with the mortal voice, pretending to be an acolyte instead of a goddess so as not to have a repeat incident) and offered a blessing consolation prize. Poor dear. She doesn't want to frighten anyone.
Even, including, gods. There is a neighbor of hers that's - well, quiet. Shy. She completely missed their existence for decades. One would think they were trying to hide. She'll leave them alone if they want to be left alone, but - she tries to keep in the habit of meeting her neighbors. Telling them that she is nice and pleasant and neighborly. And not frightening them.
So, here she is, carefully picking her way to their domain and thinking of what she'll say.
This particular goddess thinks her manifested form is possibly more suited elsewhere. Her domain is rather small, her followers loyal, and happy, and safe. But her neighbors are many, and her acolytes few, and there is always value in walking among mortals. Her power, while valuable (and she does not, for a second, regret choosing it) doesn't help very much against physical confrontation. A god could smite one of her mortals, and they'd be gone, and there would be nothing she could do to bring them back.
But if a god were to smite her body, the losses could be recuperated. It'd be annoying, and tedious, but she would ultimately be fine, if she still had followers to sustain her. So she is the one to visit other gods. She's, comparatively, expendable.
She's practiced getting the voice right, because a goddess gets tired of walking into a town and saying, "Hello," and having everyone present completely freak out. Or fawning over her. Or dumping a ton of presents at her feet. Or, in one memorable case, running for their lives. Possibly not the smartest thing to do, but the goddess wasn't offended. She even caught up with him (with a different face, with the mortal voice, pretending to be an acolyte instead of a goddess so as not to have a repeat incident) and offered a blessing consolation prize. Poor dear. She doesn't want to frighten anyone.
Even, including, gods. There is a neighbor of hers that's - well, quiet. Shy. She completely missed their existence for decades. One would think they were trying to hide. She'll leave them alone if they want to be left alone, but - she tries to keep in the habit of meeting her neighbors. Telling them that she is nice and pleasant and neighborly. And not frightening them.
So, here she is, carefully picking her way to their domain and thinking of what she'll say.
Welcome to the neighborhood
May. 19th, 2015 07:28 pmonthewindIdania stays in the domains of Viokai and Ealasiva for a while longer - she gets along well with Syriel and everyone present, especially the gods. She talks to Rae about the place; Rae thinks it's pretty great.
"I believe I would like to bless them," says Raezenoth, out of nowhere.
"Them?"
"Ealasiva and Viokai. Syriel, too, I think. Not all of my blessings, but one or two."
"That's adorable."
"Yes, I know."
Idania is currently in Ealasiva's domain. She lands and looks in a skywards direction. "Well. Ealasiva, did you hear that?"
"I believe I would like to bless them," says Raezenoth, out of nowhere.
"Them?"
"Ealasiva and Viokai. Syriel, too, I think. Not all of my blessings, but one or two."
"That's adorable."
"Yes, I know."
Idania is currently in Ealasiva's domain. She lands and looks in a skywards direction. "Well. Ealasiva, did you hear that?"
How does one be interesting?
May. 2nd, 2015 02:12 pmonly_dabbledJowan wonders if it's part of becoming a spectre to feel kind of stupid. Probably? He supposes everyone that succeeded at becoming a spectre had a time where they felt silly, before they'd even managed it.
Go somewhere spirits are likely to be, said the only book he'd found on the subject. Someplace interesting.
So. What counted as interesting? He knew what he found interesting. He didn't know what spirits found interesting. He'd tried a few spots already, places that looked like they had a lot of stuff going on. He'd wandered around trying to get a spirit's attention, not knowing if they were laughing at his attempts or ignoring him or taking issue with the color of his shirt or something. But - nothing. Nothing at all.
So he was going with something he thought was interesting. Maybe there would be less spirits, or maybe there would be more, he didn't know. But it seemed like the best idea. Maybe. Probably? Probably.
Jowan clears his throat, and steps into the little grotto. "Excuse me?" he says, to the nothing that's there. "I um. My name is Jowan. I'm - er. Human. Obviously? But errr. I was sort of thinking, er, well, looking - I'm looking for a partner? Any spirits around that would like to become spectres together?"
Silence.
"I don't actually know if any of you can hear me, or if you're even here, but - if you don't mind I'll pretend you are. At worst I'm just talking to myself." Cough. "Um. I'm not interested in going crazy and blowing stuff up. At all. I - I don't know, is this supposed to be like - 'I enjoy long moments in the library and walks in pretty forests and drinking fruity drinks instead of something stronger and want to spend my time learning about magic without also blowing myself up.' Did that show a bit of my personality? I don't really know. Uh. I don't really have a lot of friends? It's not because I'm a jerk or anything, just, sort of, I'm, shy? I guess?"
Sigh. "Which is why I'm so awful at this. Sorry? I don't have any practice, except for the times that I tried the same thing I'm doing now in other places, and nothing really happened there, either, so I don't know if I'm getting any better or not. I think I am? I haven't spent most of the time talking to my shoes this time! So that's nice!"
Silence.
"Anyway, um. What I'd do as a spectre sort of. Depends on who partners up with me, I guess. It just seems like it'd be interesting and fun and. Um. Yeah. I don't know, if I seem like the type of person you'd like, definitely willing to share power! And be partners!"
More silence. Is. That a no? He doesn't know if that's a no or not.
Go somewhere spirits are likely to be, said the only book he'd found on the subject. Someplace interesting.
So. What counted as interesting? He knew what he found interesting. He didn't know what spirits found interesting. He'd tried a few spots already, places that looked like they had a lot of stuff going on. He'd wandered around trying to get a spirit's attention, not knowing if they were laughing at his attempts or ignoring him or taking issue with the color of his shirt or something. But - nothing. Nothing at all.
So he was going with something he thought was interesting. Maybe there would be less spirits, or maybe there would be more, he didn't know. But it seemed like the best idea. Maybe. Probably? Probably.
Jowan clears his throat, and steps into the little grotto. "Excuse me?" he says, to the nothing that's there. "I um. My name is Jowan. I'm - er. Human. Obviously? But errr. I was sort of thinking, er, well, looking - I'm looking for a partner? Any spirits around that would like to become spectres together?"
Silence.
"I don't actually know if any of you can hear me, or if you're even here, but - if you don't mind I'll pretend you are. At worst I'm just talking to myself." Cough. "Um. I'm not interested in going crazy and blowing stuff up. At all. I - I don't know, is this supposed to be like - 'I enjoy long moments in the library and walks in pretty forests and drinking fruity drinks instead of something stronger and want to spend my time learning about magic without also blowing myself up.' Did that show a bit of my personality? I don't really know. Uh. I don't really have a lot of friends? It's not because I'm a jerk or anything, just, sort of, I'm, shy? I guess?"
Sigh. "Which is why I'm so awful at this. Sorry? I don't have any practice, except for the times that I tried the same thing I'm doing now in other places, and nothing really happened there, either, so I don't know if I'm getting any better or not. I think I am? I haven't spent most of the time talking to my shoes this time! So that's nice!"
Silence.
"Anyway, um. What I'd do as a spectre sort of. Depends on who partners up with me, I guess. It just seems like it'd be interesting and fun and. Um. Yeah. I don't know, if I seem like the type of person you'd like, definitely willing to share power! And be partners!"
More silence. Is. That a no? He doesn't know if that's a no or not.
aestrixThere are lots of dark corners in the palace for a tiny pair of eyes to hide in, and watch, along with a tiny pair of ears, to listen.
Prince Bhelen Aeducan knows a lot of these dark corners pretty well. Right now he's trying to listen to snatches of conversation from the servants. Normally he might not bother, but he heard the cook's wife was pregnant and sick. Is she going to be okay?
(Bhelen isn't old enough to remember when the last member of the royal family was pregnant and sick. But Trian's told him stories. Trian's a git, and Bhelen hates spending time with him, but if he's already got to, well, might as well make the most of it.)
Prince Bhelen Aeducan knows a lot of these dark corners pretty well. Right now he's trying to listen to snatches of conversation from the servants. Normally he might not bother, but he heard the cook's wife was pregnant and sick. Is she going to be okay?
(Bhelen isn't old enough to remember when the last member of the royal family was pregnant and sick. But Trian's told him stories. Trian's a git, and Bhelen hates spending time with him, but if he's already got to, well, might as well make the most of it.)
aestrixThe trip to Ostagar is rather uneventful after the major detours are all taken care of. Soon enough, Elissa, Shiral, and Terion reach it. The place is an interesting mixture of 'old but sturdy ruins' and 'hastily cobbled together new defenses.' But the walls look sturdy, whether they're made of old stone or freshly-sawn wood, and the fortress itself is well-placed. All in all, it could be better, but considering the circumstances, it's a solid choice and probably the best available.
Terion gives Shiral a Grey Warden recruit pin that looks like a griffon. It's possible that someone could still mistake her for an ordinary elven servant (if they were somewhat daft) but she will not be thought a thief or deserter. Terion trusts Elissa's ability to guess that she can ask for one, too, but he doesn't press the subject.
Terion gives Shiral a Grey Warden recruit pin that looks like a griffon. It's possible that someone could still mistake her for an ordinary elven servant (if they were somewhat daft) but she will not be thought a thief or deserter. Terion trusts Elissa's ability to guess that she can ask for one, too, but he doesn't press the subject.
aestrixIt is a special day, in the city of Orzammar. For one man, especially. It is a day of celebration for the second son of King Endrin Aeducan. Despite his physical... issues, he's been made Orzammar's newest commander. Tomorrow, there will be quite a lot of bloodshed. But tonight is for Stalas Aeducan. Not only is there a feast in his honor, but Provings, as well. It's his day, one of honor, but also his formal presentation to the heads of houses.
The merchants have even been allowed into the Diamond Quarter, a rare treat they only see on special occasions. They're probably regretting it, by now, after trying to talk to some of the dwarven nobles and tackle their very particular brand of pride, but it's a chance to win over the highest class, instead of hoping they deign to notice the Merchant Caste.
Regardless, today is certainly a day to remember. Possibly for the wrong reasons.
The merchants have even been allowed into the Diamond Quarter, a rare treat they only see on special occasions. They're probably regretting it, by now, after trying to talk to some of the dwarven nobles and tackle their very particular brand of pride, but it's a chance to win over the highest class, instead of hoping they deign to notice the Merchant Caste.
Regardless, today is certainly a day to remember. Possibly for the wrong reasons.
aestrixThere are many things in the world that make Nelaros nervous. Knives, for example. Torture chambers. Dark alleys. People that he doesn't know that stand uncomfortably close when there is definitely enough space for everyone in the street without needing to crowd him.
But he doesn't recall a moment in his life where he was so calm when, by all rights, he should probably be completely freaking out. It's just marriage, it doesn't really matter to him. It's more - life partner, than lover. He hopes the one he finds is - not an idiot. Not going to take up the drink and drink him and any children they have into destitution. Obviously he's not going to have children with her if that fate's likely. So it's just - a person that he is married to. Which, really, isn't so bad.
So, on the day of his marriage to a stranger he doesn't know, in an unfamiliar and terrifying town, he sits under the Vhenadahl. It's not time for the wedding just yet, he's a few hours early.
But he doesn't recall a moment in his life where he was so calm when, by all rights, he should probably be completely freaking out. It's just marriage, it doesn't really matter to him. It's more - life partner, than lover. He hopes the one he finds is - not an idiot. Not going to take up the drink and drink him and any children they have into destitution. Obviously he's not going to have children with her if that fate's likely. So it's just - a person that he is married to. Which, really, isn't so bad.
So, on the day of his marriage to a stranger he doesn't know, in an unfamiliar and terrifying town, he sits under the Vhenadahl. It's not time for the wedding just yet, he's a few hours early.
Tranquility
Oct. 21st, 2014 08:40 pmonly_dabbledJowan realizes later than he really should that he's pretty awful at making friends. Or maybe the other mages in this tower are just not Jowan-friend material, save the one he's made. Oh, he can have conversations with them, maybe even think they're decent people, but the minute one of them starts talking about how magic is dangerous and needs to be watched ever so carefully, they are lost as friend material. They must be crazy. Magic's the best thing in the world. Sure, it can be abused, but so can anything. Just look at the Orlesians, they oppressed Ferelden just fine without use of magic. But of course, most mages would look at him strangely for that opinion. There are exceptions, of course - Uldred, for example, also thinks magic is the best thing ever, but Uldred is a circle mage and Jowan's still an apprentice. He hasn't had much chance to befriend him. Maybe later, maybe after his Harrowing.
Viandra, on the other hand, is still an apprentice. Or - well, literally in the process of becoming a circle mage, but still technically an apprentice. Thus, how he realized that he is pretty awful at making friends. He's extremely worried about her, and there's - no one to talk to about it. No one to really talk to about it. His friend's doing who knows what, and she might die, and all anyone can say in response is how they're worried about what'll happen when they go through their Harrowing. Yeah, okay, thanks, jackass, what about the person who's going through hers right now?
She'll be fine, he's almost sure of it. It's Viandra, who's been so far ahead in creation and spirit magic that he's pretty sure she can teach Wynne a thing or two. But, almost. Almost was not certain. She could die. That wasn't nothing to him. That was the opposite of nothing to him. He was scared and fidgety and needed someone to talk to about it.
But he did have a - not a friend. Lily. And she was kind and smart and funny and oh, by the way, he was hopelessly in love with her and she was feeling similarly about him. She would care about his friend possibly dying. Because of course she would, she knew that Viandra was like a sister to him, his best and only friend. This was Lily, he loved her for a reason.
He went to her, in the Circle's tiny Chantry where she worked. He was even thoughtful enough to check for anyone that could be watching before his brave face cracked like delicate porcelain and he broke down sobbing on her. She held him, and stroked his hair, and murmured that the Maker watches over his children. Usually he didn't even go for the religious stuff, but it always sounded so reasonable when she said it. So right and so logical and so soothing. It was exactly what he needed. Or maybe it was just that she was exactly what he needed. One of the two, he couldn't decide which.
When he's less of an emotional cocktail and the embrace is more comfortable inertia instead of desperate clinging, she murmurs into his hair, "Jowan. I - I saw a form, on Knight-Commander Greagior's desk."
"... That sounds ominous?"
"It. Well. It is," says Lily. Jowan straightens up out of her arms to look at her. He takes her hand, for comfort on - whatever it is. "First Enchanter Irving signed a - form authorizing him to perform the Rite Of Tranquility. On. On you."
Whatever Jowan was expecting from her, that was not it. He stares in silence.
"They - they think you're a blood mage," she whispers.
Well they're technically right, but he's not - he's not a proper blood mage, he just - knows some things because he was curious and surmised some things from obvious logical steps that weren't mentioned in certain books he read. That's all. He wouldn't sacrifice other people for things he wanted, not for extremely good reason, he's not like the Magisters of Tevinter. He just - has a slightly more rounded education than most. A mage that knows blood magic, instead of a blood mage.
"I'm not," he says, because he's not, not really.
"I know," she agrees. "You wouldn't. But I need a good argument to defend you, a really good one, and I don't know how, there are so many templars that just - kill or make mages tranquil without hesitation, and - and - I don't want that to happen to you!"
"I don't want it to happen to me either," he agrees, a little shrilly. "But - but - Lily. Will you get in trouble trying to defend me?"
"... Probably, but I don't care, even Aeonar's worse than you losing -"
"Don't, please, I couldn't bear the thought of you in Aeonar. I'll - think of something. There's got to be another option, here. I just Don't know what it is, how do I deal with - with Greagoir and Irving deciding from on high to un-person me?"
"If I knew, I'd tell you," agrees Lily.
"I know. There's - you know who has a lot of sway with Irving?"
"... Viandra?"
"Viandra," he declares victoriously. "Irving thinks she's going to end up replacing him eventually, her opinion's got to count for something."
"But she's in her Harrowing," murmurs Lily.
"She'll make it," whispers Jowan. "She has to."
"If she doesn't, what will we do?"
"I - I don't know. We'll try and figure that out. Okay? But if it all goes wrong - I love you."
"And I, you."
They share a kiss, passionate and desperate and as much a potential goodbye as it is a declaration of love. And then, too soon, there's a noise in the hallway and they simultaneously break the kiss to listen. Whoever the source of the noise is, they don't come into the Chantry, but the moment's lost anyway. Jowan murmurs a goodbye, gives Lily a more gentle, less desperate kiss, and then goes to wait for Viandra to finish her Harrowing.
Viandra, on the other hand, is still an apprentice. Or - well, literally in the process of becoming a circle mage, but still technically an apprentice. Thus, how he realized that he is pretty awful at making friends. He's extremely worried about her, and there's - no one to talk to about it. No one to really talk to about it. His friend's doing who knows what, and she might die, and all anyone can say in response is how they're worried about what'll happen when they go through their Harrowing. Yeah, okay, thanks, jackass, what about the person who's going through hers right now?
She'll be fine, he's almost sure of it. It's Viandra, who's been so far ahead in creation and spirit magic that he's pretty sure she can teach Wynne a thing or two. But, almost. Almost was not certain. She could die. That wasn't nothing to him. That was the opposite of nothing to him. He was scared and fidgety and needed someone to talk to about it.
But he did have a - not a friend. Lily. And she was kind and smart and funny and oh, by the way, he was hopelessly in love with her and she was feeling similarly about him. She would care about his friend possibly dying. Because of course she would, she knew that Viandra was like a sister to him, his best and only friend. This was Lily, he loved her for a reason.
He went to her, in the Circle's tiny Chantry where she worked. He was even thoughtful enough to check for anyone that could be watching before his brave face cracked like delicate porcelain and he broke down sobbing on her. She held him, and stroked his hair, and murmured that the Maker watches over his children. Usually he didn't even go for the religious stuff, but it always sounded so reasonable when she said it. So right and so logical and so soothing. It was exactly what he needed. Or maybe it was just that she was exactly what he needed. One of the two, he couldn't decide which.
When he's less of an emotional cocktail and the embrace is more comfortable inertia instead of desperate clinging, she murmurs into his hair, "Jowan. I - I saw a form, on Knight-Commander Greagior's desk."
"... That sounds ominous?"
"It. Well. It is," says Lily. Jowan straightens up out of her arms to look at her. He takes her hand, for comfort on - whatever it is. "First Enchanter Irving signed a - form authorizing him to perform the Rite Of Tranquility. On. On you."
Whatever Jowan was expecting from her, that was not it. He stares in silence.
"They - they think you're a blood mage," she whispers.
Well they're technically right, but he's not - he's not a proper blood mage, he just - knows some things because he was curious and surmised some things from obvious logical steps that weren't mentioned in certain books he read. That's all. He wouldn't sacrifice other people for things he wanted, not for extremely good reason, he's not like the Magisters of Tevinter. He just - has a slightly more rounded education than most. A mage that knows blood magic, instead of a blood mage.
"I'm not," he says, because he's not, not really.
"I know," she agrees. "You wouldn't. But I need a good argument to defend you, a really good one, and I don't know how, there are so many templars that just - kill or make mages tranquil without hesitation, and - and - I don't want that to happen to you!"
"I don't want it to happen to me either," he agrees, a little shrilly. "But - but - Lily. Will you get in trouble trying to defend me?"
"... Probably, but I don't care, even Aeonar's worse than you losing -"
"Don't, please, I couldn't bear the thought of you in Aeonar. I'll - think of something. There's got to be another option, here. I just Don't know what it is, how do I deal with - with Greagoir and Irving deciding from on high to un-person me?"
"If I knew, I'd tell you," agrees Lily.
"I know. There's - you know who has a lot of sway with Irving?"
"... Viandra?"
"Viandra," he declares victoriously. "Irving thinks she's going to end up replacing him eventually, her opinion's got to count for something."
"But she's in her Harrowing," murmurs Lily.
"She'll make it," whispers Jowan. "She has to."
"If she doesn't, what will we do?"
"I - I don't know. We'll try and figure that out. Okay? But if it all goes wrong - I love you."
"And I, you."
They share a kiss, passionate and desperate and as much a potential goodbye as it is a declaration of love. And then, too soon, there's a noise in the hallway and they simultaneously break the kiss to listen. Whoever the source of the noise is, they don't come into the Chantry, but the moment's lost anyway. Jowan murmurs a goodbye, gives Lily a more gentle, less desperate kiss, and then goes to wait for Viandra to finish her Harrowing.
bound_by_honorHonor figures out how to get herself out of this body, and into the fade. She figures this out when Viandra is eight, when she's been here and been called Viandra for two years. It's easy, actually. She could do it tomorrow. Except for one key factor.
Viandra herself, her mind, is nowhere to be found. Nowhere that Honor can find, anyway.
This is a problem. Honor could leave the body with little issue, but then it would die. And then Viandra would die. Honor - well, she doesn't want to be here. She really doesn't want to be here, actually, but condemning a mortal to death without any ability to defend herself or stop it seems dishonorable and - and wrong. Not while there's a chance that she could potentially put things right. It would be against her nature to flee because a task is difficult.
So she stays. Even though she could leave. Understanding that if the templars knew what she was, they would kill her.
She hates it, hates taking a name that is not hers (she's Honor, that's more meaningful than Viandra's name) but if she wants to keep Viandra herself alive, she has to call herself and respond to Viandra. Viandra's - she's eight, now, they'll let her slip up sometimes because eight year olds sometimes pretend silly things, but when she's older, she'll have no leeway.
So she starts thinking of herself as Viandra. It takes work, and occasionally she gives her tutors funny looks when they refer to her by 'name.' But she adjusts surprisingly quickly. And then she starts adjusting to other things, as well. She listens and learns and works to act mortal, at least the basics. She doesn't understand why demons would want this, and she doesn't care to understand, but she plays the part, because that's the only chance she has of a happy ending for the child. She is a spirit, time is nothing to her, she'll simply take the time to find the girl's spirit, put her back where she belongs, and then go home.
End goal. Focus on the end goal. She just - needs to pay attention, learn whatever it is she needs to learn to be able to locate a little girl lost in the fade on her own, without being able to leave the body entirely to search.
It's agonizing. There could be no worse torture in the world, surely. She'd take physical pain over this, over this - this feeling of helplessness, this feeling of being eternally trapped. There is no escape, there is no companionship, she's alone, surrounded by mortals who don't understand and who she must keep at an arm's length to prevent discovery. She's miserable.
And then, quite unexpectedly, she makes a friend.
-----
"Can I sit here?" asks a boy she recognizes vaguely from her classes, peering at her from under messy brown hair.
Viandra looks up at him from her book. It's about spirits, she's not really supposed to be reading something this advanced, at her age - ha! - but she hasn't been caught yet. And they'll think her precocious, nothing more. It's quite safe to read. Also mostly incorrect, but that's fine.
"I would be concerned if you were unable," she replies.
The boy laughs like she said a joke, and sits. Viandra - doesn't understand, but all right.
"What are you reading?" he asks.
"A book."
"Well, obviously. But what's it about?"
She looks at him and blinks. "... Spirits," she admits.
"Isn't that - really advanced?"
"Sort of," says Viandra. Not for me, she doesn't add. This is child's play. Literally. Ha, ha.
"That's really cool!"
"... It is?"
"Yeah! You can do such cool things with spirits, I heard it from an older apprentice."
"Like what?" asks the spirit. She knows what she can do, certainly, but she'd like to know what the appropriate constraints are.
"Like heal people! Wynne works with spirits, and she healed a scrape I had last week! It was so cool!"
"That does sound useful," agrees Viandra.
"Yeah," says the boy, nodding sagely. He then looks at Viandra critically. Viandra squirms a little, under his gaze. "Are you going to be a healer, too?"
... There's an idea.
"I want to," she says, sincerely.
"Oh, that's so cool! I want to throw fireballs when I'm older!" declares her companion.
"What's the point of it?"
He looks at her like she's stupid.
"What is there in here to set on fire?" she clarifies.
"Not in here, silly. Out there!" He motions to the nearby window.
"... In the sky?"
"No! Outside of the tower. I can set bad people on fire and then people will stop being bad!"
"What about the good people that are hurt?" asks Viandra reasonably.
"... That's your job! You can heal things that are good, and I can burn things that are bad!"
"I suppose," she muses.
"It'll be fun! C'mon, don't you want to?"
Viandra looks at him, impassively. She's so tired of being trapped in this tower.
"Yes," agrees the spirit.
"That'll be great," he declares. "Jowan and - what's your name?"
Honor. "Viandra."
"Jowan and Viandra, mighty adventureres!"
Despite herself, Viandra smiles.
Viandra herself, her mind, is nowhere to be found. Nowhere that Honor can find, anyway.
This is a problem. Honor could leave the body with little issue, but then it would die. And then Viandra would die. Honor - well, she doesn't want to be here. She really doesn't want to be here, actually, but condemning a mortal to death without any ability to defend herself or stop it seems dishonorable and - and wrong. Not while there's a chance that she could potentially put things right. It would be against her nature to flee because a task is difficult.
So she stays. Even though she could leave. Understanding that if the templars knew what she was, they would kill her.
She hates it, hates taking a name that is not hers (she's Honor, that's more meaningful than Viandra's name) but if she wants to keep Viandra herself alive, she has to call herself and respond to Viandra. Viandra's - she's eight, now, they'll let her slip up sometimes because eight year olds sometimes pretend silly things, but when she's older, she'll have no leeway.
So she starts thinking of herself as Viandra. It takes work, and occasionally she gives her tutors funny looks when they refer to her by 'name.' But she adjusts surprisingly quickly. And then she starts adjusting to other things, as well. She listens and learns and works to act mortal, at least the basics. She doesn't understand why demons would want this, and she doesn't care to understand, but she plays the part, because that's the only chance she has of a happy ending for the child. She is a spirit, time is nothing to her, she'll simply take the time to find the girl's spirit, put her back where she belongs, and then go home.
End goal. Focus on the end goal. She just - needs to pay attention, learn whatever it is she needs to learn to be able to locate a little girl lost in the fade on her own, without being able to leave the body entirely to search.
It's agonizing. There could be no worse torture in the world, surely. She'd take physical pain over this, over this - this feeling of helplessness, this feeling of being eternally trapped. There is no escape, there is no companionship, she's alone, surrounded by mortals who don't understand and who she must keep at an arm's length to prevent discovery. She's miserable.
And then, quite unexpectedly, she makes a friend.
-----
"Can I sit here?" asks a boy she recognizes vaguely from her classes, peering at her from under messy brown hair.
Viandra looks up at him from her book. It's about spirits, she's not really supposed to be reading something this advanced, at her age - ha! - but she hasn't been caught yet. And they'll think her precocious, nothing more. It's quite safe to read. Also mostly incorrect, but that's fine.
"I would be concerned if you were unable," she replies.
The boy laughs like she said a joke, and sits. Viandra - doesn't understand, but all right.
"What are you reading?" he asks.
"A book."
"Well, obviously. But what's it about?"
She looks at him and blinks. "... Spirits," she admits.
"Isn't that - really advanced?"
"Sort of," says Viandra. Not for me, she doesn't add. This is child's play. Literally. Ha, ha.
"That's really cool!"
"... It is?"
"Yeah! You can do such cool things with spirits, I heard it from an older apprentice."
"Like what?" asks the spirit. She knows what she can do, certainly, but she'd like to know what the appropriate constraints are.
"Like heal people! Wynne works with spirits, and she healed a scrape I had last week! It was so cool!"
"That does sound useful," agrees Viandra.
"Yeah," says the boy, nodding sagely. He then looks at Viandra critically. Viandra squirms a little, under his gaze. "Are you going to be a healer, too?"
... There's an idea.
"I want to," she says, sincerely.
"Oh, that's so cool! I want to throw fireballs when I'm older!" declares her companion.
"What's the point of it?"
He looks at her like she's stupid.
"What is there in here to set on fire?" she clarifies.
"Not in here, silly. Out there!" He motions to the nearby window.
"... In the sky?"
"No! Outside of the tower. I can set bad people on fire and then people will stop being bad!"
"What about the good people that are hurt?" asks Viandra reasonably.
"... That's your job! You can heal things that are good, and I can burn things that are bad!"
"I suppose," she muses.
"It'll be fun! C'mon, don't you want to?"
Viandra looks at him, impassively. She's so tired of being trapped in this tower.
"Yes," agrees the spirit.
"That'll be great," he declares. "Jowan and - what's your name?"
Honor. "Viandra."
"Jowan and Viandra, mighty adventureres!"
Despite herself, Viandra smiles.
bound_by_honorHonor doesn't see mortals often. She doesn't think they're very interesting, but she's seen and spoken to several mages. Helped a few, even. But she's never been tempted to try and leave her home. What is there to gain from the mortal world? The fade is all she needs, ever changing and beautiful and yet so wonderfully straightforward. She is Honor, and she may contemplate that as much as she likes in peace. Not that she's narcissistic, she is not technically honor itself, but it's not for lack of trying. She is, in every sense of the word, honorable and true and right and Honor doesn't understand why demons would ever be anything but.
So when she sees a young, sobbing elven girl, the thing to do is kneel down next to her and say, "Hello. I am Honor, are you lost?"
"Y-Yes," mumbles the girl.
"It's not safe here," says Honor. She's never encountered children before, only the idea of them, she has no idea how that this might not be the right thing to say. Naturally, that causes the girl to cry more.
"I-I'm scared," insists the mortal through her tears.
"Yes, you are, because you are in the fade. It is a scary place for mortals, even mages. You should go home. You are vulnerable, now, with too much power and no idea how to wield it. Many other mages have fallen from stray demons."
"I can't go home," cries the mage.
"Why not?"
"I need - I need help," she whispers desperately.
"What do you need help with?"
"It's my mommy. She's worried, she's worried all of the time and - and we're in such strange places now, she says we can't go back, and she's acting like she's not scared but she is and I want her to stop!"
Honor peers at her. "It is noble of you, to worry for your mother. But you are not aware of what you're asking. I do not meddle in the mortal realm, and any spirits who would you would not wish to speak to."
"Y-You can't - you can't help me?"
"No. I'm sorry."
The girl sobs some more. Honor suspects that if she were a spirit of compassion, she would know what to do with a crying elven girl. But she isn't, so she doesn't. Honor doesn't do anything at all, except watch.
"I don't - Mommy says I can't see my big sister or my father or any of my friends again and what if I lose her too, I don't know how to get home!"
"You will need to be strong," says Honor.
"I don't know how!"
"It is a difficult thing to teach."
"Are you strong?" begs the girl, desperately.
"Yes," says Honor, without a trace of doubt.
"Can. Can you teach me?"
"Perhaps. If you will conduct yourself honorably from my teachings."
"I will!" promises the girl.
"Very well," agrees Honor. "What is your name? I will teach you the ways of strength, bravery, and honor so that you might grow up and conduct yourself as such."
"Viandra. Thank you," she says.
Honor hasn't had a student before, but she copes. A lot of the philosophy goes over the child's head, which is quite frustrating, but Honor will not hold it against her. She is her teacher, now, at least temporarily, and so the holds herself responsible. That is the honorable thing to do, Honor is certain of it.
After , Viandra says plaintively, "I think I need to wake up."
"Why?" asks Honor.
"My mommy will be worried if I stay too long."
Honor nods. This makes sense. "Then I shan't keep you. Go, and remember what I've taught you, for the lessons will serve you well."
Viandra nods, and then she looks up at the spirit. The spirit looks at her.
"Can you come with me?" asks Viandra.
"No," says Honor.
"But -"
"The mortal coil is not meant for spirits. Only demons want to visit it. And I am not a demon."
"Oh."
"You should depart, your mother is waiting."
"Okay," mumbles Viandra.
She looks up at Honor with an expression Honor doesn't recognize. What is that? Hm. Well, she doesn't think she cares, actually, the mage girl is departing and now Honor can be left to her peace and quiet.
"I want you to come with me," says Viandra. And that's when Honor recognizes the expression. Desire.
"I cannot-"
"Yes. You can!"
There is a flash of light. The fade spins around her, and Honor knows and sees nothing.
------
When she opens her eyes, Honor is surprised by the light. It's so bright, where in the fade is she? She looks up to the - blue? - sky and sees a blinding orb of light. "Ack," says Honor, shielding her eyes from the unfamiliar - thing.
.... That was not her voice. Her voice echoes, and it's deeper, softer, less high pitched.
"What...?" hisses Honor. She struggles to a sitting position, on - on limbs that are too short and spindly to be hers.
Very, very carefully, she looks around. She is - someplace she's never seen before. The world around her is wrong, everything is wrong. The ground she sits upon is too uniform, the buildings she can see in the distance too tidy. There are no landmarks that she recognizes, of any kind, not even the black city. And she should see the black city, because in the fade, you can always see the black city.
But she's not in the fade, is she.
"What did that girl do?!" mutters Honor, standing on her weak, fragile, too-short limbs. She wobbles, a bit. She rights herself, and looks around for the girl. Where is that little brat?! After Honor helped her, she drags her here, out of her home? Where demons want to be, and pathetically weak mortals roam free? Where the world is unchanging and static and and - and ugly?
"I want to go back!"
"Oh, sweetie," says a voice Honor doesn't recognize. "I know you do, but we can't, okay?"
Honor looks at the woman, staring. Elven, with the same distinctive black curly hair. Viandra's mother, she assumes. Oh. Oh no. And she thinks that Honor is Viandra. She's in the elven girl's body. That's - where is Viandra, and why is Honor in her body?
How does she get home?
She doesn't manage to figure it out before the templars find her. She has two choices - death, or join the Circle, even at the apparent age of six. Honor suspects that death would send her home, but in some way, she feels responsible for the child's mistake. She should not die while someone else is in her body, for someone else's actions.
So she goes with them, to the tower in the middle of the lake that looks as lonely as she feels.
So when she sees a young, sobbing elven girl, the thing to do is kneel down next to her and say, "Hello. I am Honor, are you lost?"
"Y-Yes," mumbles the girl.
"It's not safe here," says Honor. She's never encountered children before, only the idea of them, she has no idea how that this might not be the right thing to say. Naturally, that causes the girl to cry more.
"I-I'm scared," insists the mortal through her tears.
"Yes, you are, because you are in the fade. It is a scary place for mortals, even mages. You should go home. You are vulnerable, now, with too much power and no idea how to wield it. Many other mages have fallen from stray demons."
"I can't go home," cries the mage.
"Why not?"
"I need - I need help," she whispers desperately.
"What do you need help with?"
"It's my mommy. She's worried, she's worried all of the time and - and we're in such strange places now, she says we can't go back, and she's acting like she's not scared but she is and I want her to stop!"
Honor peers at her. "It is noble of you, to worry for your mother. But you are not aware of what you're asking. I do not meddle in the mortal realm, and any spirits who would you would not wish to speak to."
"Y-You can't - you can't help me?"
"No. I'm sorry."
The girl sobs some more. Honor suspects that if she were a spirit of compassion, she would know what to do with a crying elven girl. But she isn't, so she doesn't. Honor doesn't do anything at all, except watch.
"I don't - Mommy says I can't see my big sister or my father or any of my friends again and what if I lose her too, I don't know how to get home!"
"You will need to be strong," says Honor.
"I don't know how!"
"It is a difficult thing to teach."
"Are you strong?" begs the girl, desperately.
"Yes," says Honor, without a trace of doubt.
"Can. Can you teach me?"
"Perhaps. If you will conduct yourself honorably from my teachings."
"I will!" promises the girl.
"Very well," agrees Honor. "What is your name? I will teach you the ways of strength, bravery, and honor so that you might grow up and conduct yourself as such."
"Viandra. Thank you," she says.
Honor hasn't had a student before, but she copes. A lot of the philosophy goes over the child's head, which is quite frustrating, but Honor will not hold it against her. She is her teacher, now, at least temporarily, and so the holds herself responsible. That is the honorable thing to do, Honor is certain of it.
After , Viandra says plaintively, "I think I need to wake up."
"Why?" asks Honor.
"My mommy will be worried if I stay too long."
Honor nods. This makes sense. "Then I shan't keep you. Go, and remember what I've taught you, for the lessons will serve you well."
Viandra nods, and then she looks up at the spirit. The spirit looks at her.
"Can you come with me?" asks Viandra.
"No," says Honor.
"But -"
"The mortal coil is not meant for spirits. Only demons want to visit it. And I am not a demon."
"Oh."
"You should depart, your mother is waiting."
"Okay," mumbles Viandra.
She looks up at Honor with an expression Honor doesn't recognize. What is that? Hm. Well, she doesn't think she cares, actually, the mage girl is departing and now Honor can be left to her peace and quiet.
"I want you to come with me," says Viandra. And that's when Honor recognizes the expression. Desire.
"I cannot-"
"Yes. You can!"
There is a flash of light. The fade spins around her, and Honor knows and sees nothing.
------
When she opens her eyes, Honor is surprised by the light. It's so bright, where in the fade is she? She looks up to the - blue? - sky and sees a blinding orb of light. "Ack," says Honor, shielding her eyes from the unfamiliar - thing.
.... That was not her voice. Her voice echoes, and it's deeper, softer, less high pitched.
"What...?" hisses Honor. She struggles to a sitting position, on - on limbs that are too short and spindly to be hers.
Very, very carefully, she looks around. She is - someplace she's never seen before. The world around her is wrong, everything is wrong. The ground she sits upon is too uniform, the buildings she can see in the distance too tidy. There are no landmarks that she recognizes, of any kind, not even the black city. And she should see the black city, because in the fade, you can always see the black city.
But she's not in the fade, is she.
"What did that girl do?!" mutters Honor, standing on her weak, fragile, too-short limbs. She wobbles, a bit. She rights herself, and looks around for the girl. Where is that little brat?! After Honor helped her, she drags her here, out of her home? Where demons want to be, and pathetically weak mortals roam free? Where the world is unchanging and static and and - and ugly?
"I want to go back!"
"Oh, sweetie," says a voice Honor doesn't recognize. "I know you do, but we can't, okay?"
Honor looks at the woman, staring. Elven, with the same distinctive black curly hair. Viandra's mother, she assumes. Oh. Oh no. And she thinks that Honor is Viandra. She's in the elven girl's body. That's - where is Viandra, and why is Honor in her body?
How does she get home?
She doesn't manage to figure it out before the templars find her. She has two choices - death, or join the Circle, even at the apparent age of six. Honor suspects that death would send her home, but in some way, she feels responsible for the child's mistake. She should not die while someone else is in her body, for someone else's actions.
So she goes with them, to the tower in the middle of the lake that looks as lonely as she feels.
aestrixSer Jory doesn't take long to pack, but he does take some time. Terion is of the opinion that they need supplies, anyway, so that's fine by him.
"I'll leave you to do any shopping you need to do, while I go do mine?" proposes Terion. "If you need money, I can lend you some."
"I'll leave you to do any shopping you need to do, while I go do mine?" proposes Terion. "If you need money, I can lend you some."
aestrixThis isn't their forest. Well, it is, but it's further west than the clan's ever gone before, and it's got Tamlen twitchy. Because he doesn't know these woods. Because anyone could be lurking around the corner, ready to cause trouble at their camp, or drive them away entirely. He's got his hunting partner, though, so the odds are heavily in their favor that they'll spot anyone that comes within two miles, but it still makes him a bit nervous, not knowing everything about this part of the forest.
Within two miles, there are: three shemlen, running for their lives. Following them, there is a bear. Tamlen isn't aware of this, but his hunting partner might be able to figure it out.
Within two miles, there are: three shemlen, running for their lives. Following them, there is a bear. Tamlen isn't aware of this, but his hunting partner might be able to figure it out.
aestrixSome threats seem very small and minor, when seen from far away. Most threats, actually, it's very rare for people to see a far-away threat and think, 'Yes, I must drop everything to attend to this.' So people let it sit, gathering strength, attending to the closer problems, because those are easier to analyze and solve. And it's so hard to let the petty problems go.
That's why the Grey Warden Terion's been sent. To shove the far-away threat right in people's faces, make them sit down and shut up about their petty problems. Oh, and also, he needs to do some recruiting. Because telling uncomfortable truths and recruiting people go hand in hand. The Grey Wardens ask a lot of their members, even when not facing the darkspawn. Step one: convince the people in charge that they should commit forces to Ostagar. Step two: recruit more Grey Wardens. Step three: escort the recruits to Ostagar, to undertake the joining. Step four: try not to let the guilt of any failed joinings ruin you. It was step four that was the bitch to undertake. Personally, Terion prefers the darkspawn.
He talks to some people, convinces them to definitely care about the darkspawn, because it's shaping up to be a Blight. They need people to go and stab things until the archdemon shows up and a Grey Warden can stab that. Terion then manages to find one - one - measly recruit. A coward, by the looks of him, but good with a sword and brave enough with his back to the wall. Jory, is his name. Terion hopes the darkspawn will beat the 'coward' out of him, but only time will tell. Maybe he'll just die in the joining, Terion doesn't know. He's just got people to convince and recruits to - recruit. Stupid unreasonable people.
The Couslands are supposed to be quite reasonable. Maybe the visit to their castle will succeed in not making Terion want to start his Calling early. He can only hope.
That's why the Grey Warden Terion's been sent. To shove the far-away threat right in people's faces, make them sit down and shut up about their petty problems. Oh, and also, he needs to do some recruiting. Because telling uncomfortable truths and recruiting people go hand in hand. The Grey Wardens ask a lot of their members, even when not facing the darkspawn. Step one: convince the people in charge that they should commit forces to Ostagar. Step two: recruit more Grey Wardens. Step three: escort the recruits to Ostagar, to undertake the joining. Step four: try not to let the guilt of any failed joinings ruin you. It was step four that was the bitch to undertake. Personally, Terion prefers the darkspawn.
He talks to some people, convinces them to definitely care about the darkspawn, because it's shaping up to be a Blight. They need people to go and stab things until the archdemon shows up and a Grey Warden can stab that. Terion then manages to find one - one - measly recruit. A coward, by the looks of him, but good with a sword and brave enough with his back to the wall. Jory, is his name. Terion hopes the darkspawn will beat the 'coward' out of him, but only time will tell. Maybe he'll just die in the joining, Terion doesn't know. He's just got people to convince and recruits to - recruit. Stupid unreasonable people.
The Couslands are supposed to be quite reasonable. Maybe the visit to their castle will succeed in not making Terion want to start his Calling early. He can only hope.
The only option is to wrassle
Aug. 31st, 2014 06:22 pmkit_katZane knows his sister's got pretty good reasons for not coming to school much anymore, but he does genuinely miss her. There's no one to tease about the upcoming dance, or to beg for notes on the latest thing in class, or just someone that's reliable conversation. She shows up to math class sometimes, but Zane isn't even in that one, and Adanya's long stopped showing up to the others. Busy, and all.
But Zane isn't. And there is a dance coming up. He wants to go, but doesn't have a date - it's time to fix that. Unfortunately just asking people hasn't seemed to be working. He's been doing it a while, but either his personality, his daemon, or his sister have been putting them off and Zane continues to be without a date. That's cool, he's not going to get broken up about it, it's just kind of annoying. Because really, he's super fucking gorgeous, who the hell wouldn't want to go with him to a dance? Whatever.
School lets out, and Zane is expected to walk home, but he is of the opinion that he needs to let off some steam first. Staying indoors in classrooms for hours is bothersome, and he dislikes it immensely.
"Hey, Kit-kat," he says, to the jaguar beside him. "Want to wrassle?"
"Are you kidding?" snorts his daemon Nakitarine. She flicks her tail. "Of course I do."
And that is how Zane ends up wrassling his jaguar daemon just outside of the school, both of them laughing all of the while. Yeah, this probably doesn't help him get a date, either.
But Zane isn't. And there is a dance coming up. He wants to go, but doesn't have a date - it's time to fix that. Unfortunately just asking people hasn't seemed to be working. He's been doing it a while, but either his personality, his daemon, or his sister have been putting them off and Zane continues to be without a date. That's cool, he's not going to get broken up about it, it's just kind of annoying. Because really, he's super fucking gorgeous, who the hell wouldn't want to go with him to a dance? Whatever.
School lets out, and Zane is expected to walk home, but he is of the opinion that he needs to let off some steam first. Staying indoors in classrooms for hours is bothersome, and he dislikes it immensely.
"Hey, Kit-kat," he says, to the jaguar beside him. "Want to wrassle?"
"Are you kidding?" snorts his daemon Nakitarine. She flicks her tail. "Of course I do."
And that is how Zane ends up wrassling his jaguar daemon just outside of the school, both of them laughing all of the while. Yeah, this probably doesn't help him get a date, either.
Not playing with a full deck
Jul. 26th, 2014 08:33 pmmorethanimaginarySavannah is bored. So bored. Darren is off doing something that involves being a huge nerd, and at the moment, Savannah's weekend is about as interesting as a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. Which is, not very. There's nothing to do in Forks. It's a boring, sleepy little town, and doesn't volunteer 'exciting things to do' very often.
She wants to fix this. So, she asks her dad, and he obligingly drives her to an Interesting Place. That is, the woods. She'll go on a long, long walk, and enjoy the scenery. It's raining, of course, but Savannah's gotten used to that annoying feature. A bit of rain never permanently hurt anyone. She thinks.
Walk. Walk walk walk. Trees, verdant scenery, rain, deck of... cards? What?
She wants to fix this. So, she asks her dad, and he obligingly drives her to an Interesting Place. That is, the woods. She'll go on a long, long walk, and enjoy the scenery. It's raining, of course, but Savannah's gotten used to that annoying feature. A bit of rain never permanently hurt anyone. She thinks.
Walk. Walk walk walk. Trees, verdant scenery, rain, deck of... cards? What?
