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@intocoinciverse
The Graceful Swan Style
The white robes of the Graceful Swan style mark out the user to even the most casual inspection. However, the long sleeves that are their trademark contain a deadly secret - through an intricate network of chains, blades can be dropped out from the edge of the sleeve to slice as the ‘wing’ passes by an opponent.
(Subject: Tamaki / Moonlight's Blessing from the Ouran crossover fic I am writing. Raw scan.)
The point where Tumblr becomes better for uploading pictures than an actual photo-uploading website is the point where I despair.
Here is draft one of the Twelve Paths of Heaven Party, from left to right, Shenmi Xiong, Shenmi Sheng (grandfather) and Flowing Silk Ribbon. Plain scan, but intending to ink and colour, because colour makes a lot of difference with these guys.
(Priesthat!)
(by Dora Art)
~ And once the sun arose
Upon the glitt'ring fields of frost
We knew that we could still go on
Despite the ones we'd lost.
- Excerpt from unknown poem, possibly the Siege of Errinstown
Keeping up appearences
And we have fic from the aftermath of the Dirt Player Event, in which Ischarion talked far too much and was under the effects of Desire the entire time.
++++
My thoughts, like my mind, can be fragmented.
Sometimes I can keep the appearance of a normal Winged.
I can smile faintly, tilt my head just a touch, remain neutral, ask questions, do business. Those things are easy. Occasionally I will even chuckle, if you see that you have truly amused me. My expressions and reactions tend to be muted, I do not quite get things like a normal Winged would, or how I imagine a normal winged does anyway.
I lost that a long time ago when my mask became an impenetrable shield, the boy distancing himself from the world behind porcelain.
Esca is the one who smiles and laughs and dances. She is the one who swears and flips people off, she's the one who tells me to get a grip on myself and keep going.
There is no question that I am the core, that I am in control and that we care for each other. But I know that she will always have my back and that I will smooth over her mistakes and let her laugh if she wishes.
Sometimes it is not easy to pretend to be normal. Sometimes I cannot cover the Desire, the River that floods through my veins and roars in my mind. Sometimes my fist clenches, trying to grab someone who isn't there, looking for an outlet, I cannot keep still, heat, Desire. I am River and Wellspring and I strain against these damn bonds that hold me back!
I can hear myself hissing slightly as I breathe out, unable to hold it back, unable to stop, the most I can do to contain it is pace in a circle. My body is not quite mine at that point and as soon as those idiots get back I am going to...
No. Control, restraint, re-tie the ribbon, do not let the storm and flood and fire reach your eyes. Though it is probably that which results in telling him quite so much. I need an outlet, the intellectual conversation with someone who can actually damn well think suffices, who will listen and ask questions and try to see, it does not matter much who.
It is a refreshing break from the press of the Desire and I find myself seeking it often.
This does not mean I will not be finding a more physical outlet for some of this Desire on my return to the Riverstates, but knowing that I can alleviate it with discussion is useful.
Minds are so beautiful, why can people not see intelligence when it dances in someone's eyes? How can people not be attracted to it?
(We really do have a weakness for Corvids, don't we?)
(No shit? I still reckon it's the black and white, and the lighter hair.)
(Esca...)
The Ischarion you know is reserved, calm and distant, that is the mask, painted to match my face, a mask in spirit as well as in physicality. Without my mask...
Without my mask I an undefended, people can see me blush. Without my mask I get confused, I wonder if I have even grown, it is like... It is like I am that boy who lost his dear Cassie again. I do not know how to deal with things though I know I still have my knowledge and experience, that I have not changed, that I simply do not have my grounding, my distance, my shield. That I have no defence against... I am not sure what. My own emotions perhaps.
It can be terrifying if I'm not careful, if I look at people and they look at me, see me, not my mask, see that boy... I cannot cope with it and nearly fumble to reach for contact of the person that has made me feel safe enough to be able to take it off. Everything is too close, too loud, too immediate, my expression too open, everyone can see it, I've nowhere to hide and no time to think and-
I panic and I try to hide. Just a boy, just a boy who cannot cope. I cannot allow that weakness to show in front of others at the parliament. That.. that happens when I do not wear my mask. Cassie never mocked me for it, she let me laugh and relax, she didn't mind me stumbling and liked me to smile.
... I've not thought about her like that for a while. Perhaps it is because I took my mask off.
... I wonder if I can take it off more in front of people.
The Last Droplet That Falls.
Guess what, more Twelve Paths of heaven fic, this time with a 9-year-old Flowing Silk Ribbon and rather a lot of angst.
++++
EY 3128:
It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Yinghao Rin walking onto the Golden Phoenix temple grounds, but he did not usually appear halfway through the morning given he had his own affairs to deal with. It was also unsurprising that after he had made his customary bow to the altar he went to Master Li’s room, frowning slightly when there was no response from inside.
He did not know many other places within the temple, nor where the man could be expected to be found at this time, instead going to the nearest student - a boy with wavy dark hair bearing the Zhou clan symbol, “Please excuse me, would you happen to know where Sage Li might be found at this hour?”
The boy blinked once in surprise, immediately noting his clan symbol, “I can think of a few places Master Yinghao,” he responded politely, “would you like me to lead you to them?”
“I would be very grateful if you were to do so, if it does not detract from your other duties Zhou…?”
“Zhou Ren, Master Yinghao,” they supplied with a small bow that Rin returned, “please follow me.”
It didn’t take long for the pair to find Master Li, the boy leading him almost directly to a smallish room where the old priest and four pupils poured over the plans for a house. Master Yinghao’s frown deepened.
On seeing him Master Li also frowned, standing from the low table, “Keep on studying the diagrams while I have a private word with Master Yinghao please, I should be back shortly. Zhou Ren, wait in here please, we may have use of you.”
One they were outside and a short way down the corridor Master Li turned to Rin calmly, “I am assuming this is about Flowing Silk’s training?”
“In a way,” Rin replied apprehensively, “Sage Li, do you know where he is?”
The priest’s frozen expression told him all that he needed to know.
++++
Flowing Silk wasn’t quite sure where he was, somewhere on a mountain pathway northeast of the Imperial city. He should know the name of this mountain, but he was too tired and his arm hurt, hanging near useless across his chest, sloppily tucked inside the front of his robes to keep it stable, a cloak over the top to hide the bloodstained torn sleeve and the bruises across his face marred by tear tracks.
He should probably rest. But…
Keep going, get away. You don’t deserve to go back, they won’t miss you.
Movement caught his eye, a rabbit standing up against an old wooden shrine daintily eating the flowers laid there. He hurried forward, tears prickling at his eyes again, even if he was useless and awful he could still save the little gift someone had laid there! You didn’t take away what little a tiny forgotten shrine like this had, you didn’t take away the last bit of hope someone had!
The rabbit spooked and fled at his approach, leaving him looking down at the mostly eaten flowers on the step mournfully. He hadn’t been able to get there in time, another failure.
No, he had to do something, even if… even if they’d taken away his ribbon, he could stop someone else losing all they had, even if his arm ached dully, he was sure he could find some flowers for the poor little shrine.
Into the bushes off the road, using his good arm to push branches aside and trying not to scream with pain when they caught his bad one or his loose hair when they pulled his hood off his head. Stop, pull it back up, keep going. Use the bad hand to hold the little group of delicate flowers, come on, he could still hold, he could still grip, don’t give up, keep going. Even if you don’t matter, help the little Kami, they have no-one else to assist them.
He wasn’t sure how long it took to get there and back with the measly handful of brightly coloured weeds, but he was too tired to do any more or find any better. His vision swam again as he laid them gently down on the front ledge and knelt to pray. Such a pitiful effort, was that all he was capable of? Even just that small bundle had taken all the strength he had.
Still, at least it was something to say sorry for not being good enough.
Heavens, he shouldn’t have knelt, he wasn’t sure he could get up again. He could at least get out of the path though, and that would stop his knees hurting too. A stiff movement caused him to half turn, half flop until he was leaning against the side of the shrine, unable to bite back the cry of pain as he jarred his arm again, eyes watering with pain instead of tears this time. Useless! Useless useless useless!
He blinked fuzzily and realised there was a tiny face peering around the edge of the shrine, it couldn’t have been bigger than a Li, that meant they had to be some kind of spirit. He instinctively withdrew to try and hide his shameful state, but still spoke politely, even if thickly from the tears, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I disturb you?”
“No, I mean, I was just worried, are you alright?” the face moved and Flowing Silk hurriedly tried to wipe the tears out of his eyes to see better as they flitted forwards to get a better look at his face.
“I’m…” fine, hovered on his lips, but it would be a blatant lie, instead he somewhat resignedly lowered the hood so she could see him better, and in turn saw her properly. She looked like a humanoid dragonfly, jewel-bright multi-coloured wings whirring at her back and the skin patterned with similarly bright diamond shaped scales like light reflecting off dew. She was so small, and so beautifully delicate, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked, head tilting in concern, “You are the one who is crying.”
“Because I’m not in a good state right now,” he explained, “you’re not meant to let people see you when you’re crying, or hurt.”
“That seems silly,” she said, humming over to land on his knee, “How are you going to get better if you don’t let people who can help you know?”
“I don’t know,” Flowing Silk admitted, “it’s just… how society seems to work.”
“Well I’m not human, so you don’t have to worry about that with me,” she smiled, then her face fell, “and you seem kind.”
“Me?”
She nodded, “You chased away the rabbit eating my flowers, and you even got some more for me despite being hurt. You’re kind, I want to help you too.”
“You’re the Kami of this shrine? Oh I’m sorry, I should bow or…”
She laid a tiny hand on his knee to stroke him reassuringly, “It’s okay.”
Flowing Silk’s semi composure held a moment more before the tears escaped and he folded up on his knee, careful to avoid the little Kami, “I’m useless, I can’t even fight, it would be better for me to just go and stop being a bother for everyone, I’m just in the way.”
The little Kami sounded shocked, “but you’re lovely! Why would anyone say that?”
“Because… because it’s probably true,” he said quietly, “I don’t have any family, the temple just puts up with me, and they humour me because I have nothing, otherwise I would never do so well in debates.”
The little Kami blinked up at him in confusion, “Why does having a family affect how intelligent you are?”
“I… I don’t know, because it changes how people see you, I’m just… pathetic, I’ll never amount to anything because all I own… all I really…” tears choked him again before he forced the words out, “my silk ribbon, and Wan took it. I have… I have nothing. I am nothing.”
“That’s not true!” the little Kami protested, flitting round and through the gap between his head and chest, gasping as she saw the arm hidden inside his robes, “You’re hurt!”
He nodded without really moving, “I told you I couldn’t fight.”
“But… but why haven’t you had it seen to?” she looked up at him worriedly, “it might go bad and then you would die! I don’t want that! Not when you cared!”
“I just did what anyone would do,” he murmured, “it’s fine, really, it’s okay. I don’t matter.”
“You matter to ME!” she protested, wings spread wide in emphasis, “Please, let me help you, I don’t want you to go green and die!”
Flowing Silk bit his lip at her desperation, “You… please, don’t worry about me, I don’t deserve it. I’m not worth… not worth anyone caring about.”
The kami looked desperately up at him, “Why don’t you care about yourself? Can’t you see how pretty your spirit is and how kind your heart is? Isn’t that something worth saving?”
Flowing Silk couldn’t reply for a moment, tears leaking down his face and dropping onto the Kami, wiping his eyes hurriedly to try and stop them landing on her, “Sorry, I… I don’t know any more. And I’m sorry for crying on you.”
“I like the rain,” she protested, “And tears, ish. My name is Last Droplet, or rather, Last-Droplet-that-falls, sometimes with additions like from-the-sacred-cherry-tree, but mostly the last that falls.” she looked at him uncertainly, “What is your name?”
“Fl…” he trailed off, miserable, “Flowing Silk Ribbon.”
Last Droplet’s eyes widened, “The person who did this to you took your name?”
“He, no, not quite, I…” he fumbled for words, “I was left at the Golden Phoenix Temple as a baby. I’m an orphan, no parents, nothing but the ribbon I was left there with, that’s why I was called it.”
“But your clothes…”
“Leant by the temple,” Flowing Silk mumbled, “and Wan has my ribbon now, so I… I guess he did kind of take my name because he basically took the only thing which gave me… any hint as to who I am. I couldn’t stop him.”
The little Kami looked at his arm and the rest of his battered body, “Did he do this too?” Flowing Silk nodded and her expression was furious, “So he made it so you couldn’t stop him and took it while you were helpless? How could someone be so cruel!”
“It’s my fault,” Flowing Silk protested, “I didn’t… I wasn’t strong enough, I deserve this. I’m nothing.”
“Did he tell you that too?” she asked softly
Another nod, “He’s got a really powerful family. He doesn’t like me, and says that I should learn my place rather than striving to be anything. He was right, if I hadn’t tried to be more than I was…”
“Then your brightness would crumble away and die,” she said firmly, “you can’t just give up and give in when someone tries to eat your flowers.”
“It would have hurt less,” Flowing Silk said quietly before giving up trying to wipe away his tears and letting them just soak into his robes.
Last Droplet hovered uncertainly, face uncertain as she thought for a few moments, “He doesn’t sound very nice.”
“He says he’s doing it to try and make me better,” Flowing Silk said feebly, “but… I just get beaten down. I don’t think I have the strength to fight it any more.”
Carefully the little Kami flitted up to gently hug Flowing Silk’s face, resting her head against his cheek to give him silent support as he cried. Eventually Flowing Silk moved, leaning back so that he could cradle the dragonfly Kami in his good hand. Several minutes later she spoke again, voice still quiet, “Your soul is really pretty, please don’t let your light die.”
“Why?” he said softly, “it’s not like anyone cares.”
“I care,” she said even more quietly, “please don’t die.”
Flowing Silk swallowed, “Why do you care? You don’t even know me.”
“No-one else was kind enough to save what little I had,” she was crying too now, “the priests who look after all the little shrines do care, but they have to care. You didn’t have any reason to, and you still used all your energy to help me despite being so badly hurt.”
“It was… just being a good citizen.” Flowing Silk said quietly as the sky rumbled, looking up to see that rain was starting to fall. Rain, beautiful against the grey skies, would cleanse the land, washing away the caught little snags of chi. With his injury and the exhaustion he didn’t stand a chance of finding shelter better than the trees overhanging the shrine and had no defence against the cold.
The rain would cleanse him as well, washing away everything he was. No tangles, clean and pure, sleeping in the white of death he wore so casually. It would be so peaceful.
He leant against the wood of the old shrine and gave the little Kami a faint smile. It would be a pity for him to disappoint her, but there was nothing either of them could do now, better just to ease her mind over what was going to happen, “it’s fine, you don’t owe me anything. You said you were the Kami of the Last Droplet That Falls, yes?”
“Well yes, but… why?”
“You can have my last tear,” he said with a smile, “you don’t get offerings very often do you? But I can give you that.”
She nodded, “Thank you but… Won’t you get too cold out in the rain?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said simply, feeling a tinge of regret at the half lie as he let his eyes close, “it’s fine.”
Her eyes widened, “No! No! I’m not letting you die, no! Please let me help you, please!”
He shook his head slightly and relaxed, “Please don’t worry about me. Night night.”
“No! Please! Flowing Silk Ribbon, please!” she trailed off and darted downwards, catching the tear gently in her hands, instantly freezing it in time as it hovered in her palms, glitteringly beautiful in the way that only a tear given willingly could be. She looked between it and the sleeping boy with increasing panic. There had to be something she could do, she was only small, but there had to be something, there had to be other people who cared about the kind little boy! But she couldn’t just leave him here alone.
She looked at the droplet in her hands and made her choice, mandibles neatly slicing away parts of it and letting the energy of an offering freely given thrum through her. She drew a deep breath as she flew upwards into the storm. She tilted her head up to the sky and screamed her prayer as loudly as she could, using every glimmer of strength his tear had given her.
“PLEASE HELP HIM!”
++++
Something smelt awful.
What was it?
Vague memories filtered into his mind. Oh yes, he'd died. He must be in the deadlands then, or maybe the Underworld, certainly nothing in Heaven would smell like the offspring of decomposing dog poo and that particularly foul slime you only found in little pools of stagnant water.
His sight was fuzzy when he opened his eyes, only managing to blearily focus on someone who looked a lot like Master Li before heavy lids started to slide closed again.
The figure moved quickly but carefully, pulling Flowing Silk into a hug. The boy blinked once, dazedly confused at the strange display of affection, “Master Li..? You’re not meant to be in the Deadlands.”
“You’re alive, and will be for some time yet if I have any say about it,” Master Li said quietly, “You are not a bother, and you were never going to be kicked out of the Golden Phoenix temple. You are like a son to me, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you as such plainly before. You are not alone.”
Well Master Li shouldn't be dead, so that meant he was dreaming. Master Li's words didn't match up with how he normally acted though. Flowing Silk blinked again, eyes managing to focus properly on Master Li this time, “This isn’t a very accurate dream, you don’t hug people.”
A woman sniggered and Master Li smiled, “This is no dream, I should have told you how much I cared about you long before now, I thought it was obvious. Master Yinghao and I have both been out looking for you, I am just glad that we found you in time.”
This time when the boy blinked there was more life in his eyes, his good arm lifting, hesitating, then tentatively hugging back, expression still slightly disbelieving, “You’re warm.”
“And you’re not, sit up a little so you can drink,” The other woman said briskly, Flowing Silk jerking back to his initial position at the new person. Strange, they didn't look Imperial at all, wearing a sweeping intricately patterned piece of cloth wound round her expertly to form a dress. Still, if Master Li trusted her...
Master Li moved away from the hug slightly to take the cup and help lift it to Flowing Silk’s lips in the bumpy carriage, Flowing Silk coughing at the liquid, but drinking obediently once he had managed to stop spluttering. He drank the second kind of tea as well, a little colour coming back to his face as he looked at the foreigner.
“Thank you, I’m sorry I don’t know your name, but thank you,” he said quietly.
“It’s Adhira, stay awake and keep talking.”
The boy nodded slowly before looking back to Master Li, “I’m sorry. And… did you mean that?” his eyes were worried, hopeful but apprehensive as they watched the old priest’s face.
“You did nothing wrong.” Master Li said simply, “I meant every word, you are the best student I have ever had.”
Another small frown, “But Wan said I was just a bother and dragging you all down.”
“Wan is an idiot and cannot speak for what others think, particularly when it comes to you,” Master Li said promptly, “What else did he say?”
“That… that…” Flowing Silk was finding it hard to stay awake, but forced himself to have more tea and speak again, “that people without noble blood would never amount to anything, that the temple would get rid of me for being so weak and they only gave good reports of my skills because they pitied me.”
The old priest raised an eyebrow, “You think that would soften Five Spice’s words?”
The boy hesitated uncertainly, “No… but then why did he say that?”
“Possibly because it was the only reason he could think of as to why you were apparently beating him,” Master Li mused, gently stroking Flowing Silk’s hair and stopping as their eyelids started to droop, “I believe he thinks he is the best at everything, and creates reasons why other people appear to do better so that his view is confirmed.”
“So…” Flowing Silk tried to force himself to think, “so he thinks he gets marked down because the tutors don’t like him?”
“and that you get marked up because they like you, which means that if you take the bias away that he would be better.” Master Li smiled slightly, “Unfortunately Five Spice doesn’t have favourites, and if she did she’d only judge them more harshly, so that theory is wrong.”
Flowing Silk nodded slowly, “I’m still weak though…”
“Physical strength is not the only thing that makes up one’s Chi,” Master Li reminded him, “wisdom and honour are just as important, and everyone has different strengths. Take myself and Adhira,” he indicated them both, “while strength is useful on the road, it is our knowledge that allows us to give good advice or to heal people.”
Another slow nod, Flowing Silk’s head falling against Master Li’s shoulder before he forced it up to drink some more tea. “Lady Adhira, where do you come from?”
“It’s still just Adhira. I come from the plains beyond where the Huns prowl,” she said, sorting through other herbs, “Have you heard of the Journey to the West?”
Flowing Silk nodded, “The Monkey King is very clever.”
“That’s where I come from.” she said simply, “Now, tell me about you, I don’t think you have properly introduced yourself.”
“Oh, right, yes…” Flowing Silk attempted to pull himself up, falling back with a stifled sound of pain as he jolted his arm, “My name is Flowing Silk Ribbon, I was left at the Golden Phoenix Temple as a baby with only the ribbon that gave me my name,” he trailed off, “Wan has it now.”
“We will get it back from him.” Master Li said flatly, a dangerous edge to his voice, “He went too far.”
“Oh,” Flowing Silk blinked, “he went too far?”
“If he had not gone too far, would you have felt driven out?”
The boy thought again, “No… I suppose not.”
“Then there is your answer, now continue answering Adhira’s question.”
Flowing Silk nodded and turned back, voice a little stronger now, though his eyes still had difficulty staying open, “I am a sorcerer, and can use the Honour of the Ghost like Master Li. I was assigned to his care but only really started studying it properly after he caught me playing with a spirit girl.”
The healer looked at Master Li incredulously. He winced slightly, “She was getting him to activate a circle around her to try and hide from me.”
“She said it was hide and seek…”
“She was half truthful at least,” Master Li said with a sigh, “she had me chasing her all over the temple.”
Adhira sniggered, hurriedly attempting to regain a straight face when Master Li glared at her, “Can you do any other inhuman arts?”
“Not yet, but Master Li says he might teach me the Whisper of the Phoenix when I’m older,” he replied obediently, “Mostly I’m concentrating on learning to be a priest and studying the Pure Flame style under Master Yinghao Rin.” he smiled slightly, “it’s also helpful for fighting ghosts.”
“Do you have to do that often?”
Flowing Silk frowned as he tried to think, “Not very… but Master Li hasn’t taken me to many, only the quiet ones where people pay him to ask where they left things or sort out arguments.”
“Give me your hand, please.”
The boy blinked and obliged, holding out his uninjured one her her to touch gently to gauge the temperature, then his head and the wounded arm. “Much better. Master Li, I will give you some of this tea to take with you. Other than that he mostly just needs rest. Change the dressing on his arm tomorrow and keep it dry, it can come off the day after.”
Master Li and Flowing Silk nodded, the boy covering up a yawn, “Can I sleep now?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you L- Adhira,” he corrected himself before shifting to cuddle himself further into Master Li’s chest, eyes already dropping closed before he had finished moving, “Thank you…”
Training - Rival
This is a section from Flowing Silk's childhood to introduce one of the antagonistic people in the setting, flesh out the world and show some more cool martial arts. It takes place about 6 months after Flame and Ghosts.
++++
EY 3126 (7 years old):
Master Yinghao Rin shifted through the basic motions in time with his young student in their weekly session in the private courtyard for the Golden Phoenix temple. The Yinghao master was oddly quiet for a Nobleman smith who practised the Pure Flame style, even his motions careful, the pair nearly silent as they practised. Sometimes they moved into a spar with no warning before slipping back into their exercises, the young boy brushing himself off quickly so that he wouldn’t miss any part of the exercises.
The Initiate’s flowing motions were similar to his Master’s, but where the man’s came from careful control, the child’s came from natural grace. If you watched more closely you could see that the silent training was working to increase the child’s perception, for while they couldn’t hope to match the Master’s speed, he could see the tensing muscles which told him when a blow would come.
A way for a White Phoenix to teach the Gold. Curious. They certainly weren’t a typical pair, the Master seemed far too meek and humble for everything he should be, but his movements clearly stated his competence and skill, otherwise he wouldn’t have come up with the unique training regime that suited them both so well.
One of the boys walking along the covered walkway at the edge of the courtyard with his father stopped and frowned at them, “That’s weird.”
“Manners, Wan, that is one of the Yinghao clan,” his father said curtly before he looked over, his eyes also narrowing before he flicked his attention away in dismissal, “Even if it is only Yinghao Rin, he is said to be a little odd even by his own family, but competent and loyal, precisely what you’d expect of the second or third son of the branch family.”
“He’s a Yinghao?” the boy said, wrinkling his nose, “Why is he bothering with one of the orphans then? Surely he has better things to do, even if he’s from the branch family. And their training method is still weird.”
“Yes, but it presumably has some purpose, or he would not be using it.” his father said, turning away in dismissal, “Come, Wan, you have more important things to do.”
Wan followed, but still kept glancing back at the oddly peaceful sparring session just in time to see the orphan leap away and avoid the unannounced blow before launching a kick of his own, only to be blocked and thrown away immediately after. The child skidded painfully on the dusty ground before silently picking himself up and rejoining his Master in the basic motions, face as calm as ever.
The orphan obviously wasn’t anything special, so why in the Heaven’s name was he getting the special treatment from a nobleman?
++++
Flowing Silk Ribbon was brought up short by the stockier boy in front of him, then blinked at him owlishly when he tried to go around and found the boy was still in his way, “Please excuse me, is there a problem?”
The boy simply seemed to be looking at him with a frown, Flowing Silk tilting his head curiously. The boy had more muscles than Flowing Silk did, along with scars and bruises that showed he did much more fighting. He was shorter, but his hair was far more neatly and stylishly cut and his robes were likewise expensive, though he could see several pulled threads and worn patches.
Most importantly there was the symbol stitched into the design which Master Yinghao had informed him was the Zhou clan’s. One of the great noble houses and certainly the richest in the empire. Not someone to get on the wrong side of if you could help it, for all Master Yinghao... hadn’t spoken of them like he was fond of them.
None of that explained why this boy was staring at Flowing Silk though, and it was making him uncomfortable enough to step back slightly and pull his robes a little more neatly before offering a polite half bow, “I apologise, did you hear me?”
“Yes, I was just trying to work out why you’re special.”
Flowing Silk blinked again, “I’m sorry?”
“What makes you so interesting that you get a Yinghao to teach you personally?” he said, looking up to meet Flowing Silk’s eyes, “You don’t have any family or connections, you’re quiet and while you’re quite good at the speaking assignments you’re nothing special. You’re even only being watched over here by Master Li, and while he isn’t very important, he’s still a Master teaching you personally rather than just being a surrogate parent like priests are for the others.” Another frown, “And while he does take a few, he’s one of the best on spiritwork here and he doesn’t even take many students under his wing, so why are you, a random orphan, special enough to get the personal attention of two masters, one a noble?”
Now Flowing Silk outright stared at the appalling rudeness, “I… I’m sorry? What?”
“Fight me,” they said stubbornly, “there must be a reason you’re so interesting, I want to see it.”
Flowing Silk’s grip on his books tightened a little, “But I’m meant to be training with Master Li now, I don’t have time to spar with you.”
“Well you can make some time then, it won’t take long, and I’m sure he won’t mind if you explain.” the boy said stubbornly, Flowing Silk once more looking slightly appalled at his rudeness.
“You seriously believe that you are more important than a revered priest?”
The Zhou boy hesitated, “Very well, after you train with him.”
“Fine, in the second dojo room if there is no-one there, at the third hour after noon, just go away,” Flowing Silk agreed, brushing past swiftly once his path was unblocked.
“Excellent! I, Zhou Wan shall fight you at the third hour past noon, and don’t you dare be late!”
Flowing Silk only really paid enough attention to note the boy’s name as he hurried towards Master Li’s room.
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The dojo was clear, quiet and spacious with a balcony around the walls for spectators and to add an extra dimension to any fights that happened there. The wood was perfectly polished and smelled faintly of beeswax, light filtering in through the shutters in the roof onto the marked space in the middle of the floor. Flowing Silk’s eyes flicked up. The lanterns weren’t on yet, that would have put Flowing Silk at a disadvantage if this had been a real fight.
The Zhou boy was already there when Flowing Silk entered, “Good! I was starting to think you were too cowardly to turn up!”
“Of course not, it would be rude.” Flowing Silk said quietly, rubbing one hand with the other to cover his nervousness. Usually he at least had his books to hold or fiddle with, but Master Li had recommended leaving them with him if he was going to fight. Still the nerves were not entirely out of place, this was his first time sparring with anyone who was not Master Yinghao and he wasn’t sure what to expect.
His footsteps on the wooden floor were quiet as he moved to stand opposite Wan, both of them bowing formally before settling into their stances, Flowing Silk’s defensive though he stood straighter than before. The other boy drew sharp metal claws in an instant, drawing back into a position that could only be described as ready to pounce before he frowned, “Why haven’t you drawn your weapon?”
Flowing Silk blinked, “I don’t have one.”
Wan straightened, looking at him with disappointment, “What do you mean you don’t have a weapon?”
“Master Yinghao says we haven’t found one that works with my style yet,” Flowing SIlk replied, not moving from his stance, “He says it’s very important to find the right weapon for how you move.”
The frown didn’t budge, “Weird, but I guess it makes sense.”
Flowing Silk nodded, “I’d rather do it properly than get things wrong.”
“But it means I can’t use my claws,” Wan grumbled, reluctantly stashing them back on his belt, “Oh well, I can beat you without them anyway.” The stance he went into this time was different though, his hands spread like claws instead of the blades fitting between his fingers. Slightly less reach and less deadly, but still something to be wary of.
Flowing Silk didn’t like the look in his eyes as he introduced himself in line with tradition. “Zhou Wan.”
A faint thrill ran through him, a proper challenge, his first proper spar. “Flowing Silk Ribbon.”
Wan shot forward, Flowing Silk’s eyes widening as he only just managed to dodge out the way. He’s fast!
Not just fast, but his earlier suspicions were confirmed as Wan swiped at him, turning on the spot in the way only a cat could. Ferocious Tiger, he thought as he bent away backwards and turned it into a jump to try and look around at his options. Pillars, wall, open space. What would inconvenience Wan more and help Flowing Silk?
Wan leapt after him, far faster than he’d anticipated, hands reaching out into a punch before Flowing Silk smiled and lifted his foot, letting Wan’s higher speed slam it into his face. Flowing Silk pushed off him to land under the balcony and wasted no time in sweeping round to strike Wan as he landed.
It didn’t work, Wan simply grabbed his arm and swung round to kick at his head, Flowing Silk biting back a yelp as it landed. With speed that seemed ridiculous Wan carried on spinning, the foot which had kicked him landing on the floor as his other one snapped up, slamming solidly into Flowing Silk’s side to throw them back into the centre of the room.
He had just about managed to roll back to his feet before Wan was suddenly in his face again, throwing punches at his upper torso that forced Flowing Silk back as he hurriedly moved to block them. Flowing Silk brought one arm up to shield his face, realising a moment too late that it was a feint. A sharp jab to his stomach knocked the wind from him and a moment later Wan had kicked his legs from under him, pulling aside Flowing Silk’s block with one hand as his fist descended.
There was the thump of Flowing Silk’s back hitting the floor and then silence.
Knuckles pressed gently against the skin of his throat. Flowing Silk kept his eyes closed as the world spun, feeling his chest heave as he laid flat on the floor in defeat. He should have expected this for his first fight, particularly against an opponent so fast and obviously skilled. But still, he had hoped to do better, especially with how Wan had left himself open at least once. He could have worked on that if he was faster, he knew he could.
“Pathetic.” Wan spat, fist flicking out to fingers pressing slightly too hard against his throat, “You didn’t even last five minutes.”
Something warm dropped on Flowing Silk’s face. He opened his eyes enough to see that blood was dripping slowly from Wan’s nose, the Zhou boy clearly furious as his nails dug in, “Well? aren’t you going to respond?”
Flowing Silk smiled dizzily, “At least I got a good hit in.”
He almost immediately regretted his words as fingers changed to fingernails, sharp crescents digging into his skin, “That was luck, you stupid commoner. It won’t happen again.”
The orphan frowned in spite of himself, “But it wasn’t, you were overconfident and left yourself open.”
Flowing Silk’s ears rang as Wan’s fist slammed his head into the floor, tasting blood in his mouth as the Zhou boy roared, “It was LUCK! You wouldn’t know skill if the Tiger Rajah beat you himself!” he paused and sneered as Flowing Silk didn’t move, “Not that you’d ever be worth his time, worthless mutt. What’s so special about you anyway?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one who said it.” Flowing Silk muttered, yelping as Wan grabbed his fringe and dragged him up.
“What did you say, orphan?”
Flowing Silk forced his eyes open to see Wan’s sneer, but forced himself to continue anyway, “I never said I was special, you did.”
There was a long silence before Wan threw him roughly back on the floor and stood, “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re an orphan, you could never be special.”
Flowing Silk carefully climbed to his feet, looking at the boy’s turned back in confusion, “Why?”
“Why what?” the boy wiped the blood off his face as if it were nothing.
“Why do you act like being an orphan is an insult?” Flowing Silk asked curiously, if cautiously, “Why do you say it means I can never be special?”
Wan turned in surprise to see if Flowing Silk was serious, then burst out laughing, “You really don’t know do you?” he walked forward and moved to poke him in the chest, Flowing Silk backing away warily. Wan smirked, “Because blood is everything. Without family you have no money, no importance, no influence. Without the right blood, you’ll never come to anything, just a piece of trash marring this temple. You’re alone, you have nothing and you are nothing.” He stepped back with a cruel smile, “Get it? That’s what being an orphan means. It’s just a matter of time before you’re thrown out like the trash you are.”
Wan turned round and sauntered arrogantly out of the dojo, lifting a hand as he stepped out into the sunlight. “Later, orphan.”
The door slid shut and Flowing Silk didn’t move from the half-shadow of the dojo for a long time.
Winter's Blessing
A short(ish) background piece for an NPC in the Twelve Paths of Heaven campaign, with additional context from the setting document. Posted because it's funny.
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On the Twelve Paths of Heaven
Much is made of the Empire’s favour in heaven; the Mandate of Heaven was handed down to the first Emperor, Shi Huang, by the Jade Emperor himself, the Grandfather of Gods. Each of the Twelve Immortals has handed down to the Empire their Path of Heaven, an approach to life that brings one closer to perfection and immortality. Each has also been known to take an active hand in the affairs of the Empire, for better or worse.
The Paths of Heaven are the twelve paths that the constellations trace through the sky, and each Immortal has one sign of the Empire’s Zodiac named after them. Those born under a sign are marginally more likely to favour that path. The Paths of Heaven are also a transcendental philosophy that one can strive to emulate in one’s life. They are also principles that guide martial arts, and they are also literally powerful spirits. Each of the Paths is all of these things and more.
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EY 3121:
The top of the mountain shone brightly with untouched snow, a flattish but slightly sloped area not much larger than a front room. The world was quiet this high up under the clear fading blue skies of the early morning, a victor’s podium for those who could reach it. The whirling blizzard of hail that coated most of the mountain wrapped just under the lip of plateau like a cloak, the surface of the storm supernaturally clear-cut as it rolled and raged.
One gloved hand reached up through the storm, pristine snow crunching under their grip as they found a purchase on the lip of the plateau. About 30 seconds later a second hand managed to break the surface, a snow-crusted head breaking through with a gasp a moment later, pausing in surprise at the sudden cease of the storm’s battering. They dragged the rest of their tall body out of the storm to collapse onto the pure snow, barking out a laugh of joy as they looked at the sky despite being breathless with victory.
Less than a minute later they turned over, fixing their eyes on the summit just a few metres away and forcing themselves to get to their feet with another crunch of snow. They started to unwrap the furs and cloth from around their head, letting long white hair spill free and finally breathe properly.
She looked out over the mountains spread before her, a grin spreading over her face. Worth it. The storm, the near slips and deaths, all worth it for this moment where she had the world at her feet. The glorious beauty of nature and snow, peaceful and quiet and so alive.
She was glad she’d made it here for sunrise.
Her eyes shone as she sat on the very top of the mountain, adrenaline and accomplishment shooting through her as she just breathed, enjoying the silence and the still air as the sky lightened.
“Do you mind if I sit here? The view is beautiful.”
The woman jumped, hand going to her sword as she turned to see an old man (or maybe middle aged given their good condition) standing a short distance away, white beard strong and full even if the crown of their head was as bare as the mountain top. More importantly, they wore a simple brown monk’s robe that was probably deceptively warm given it seemed to be the only thing they were wearing.
There was no way someone who came through that storm wearing just that didn’t deserve respect. They had to be highly blessed of the Alabaster Dragon for sure. Much as she didn’t like company, anyone who came here for fun was probably someone she could enjoy the view with. She bowed from her seated position and waved a hand at the space next to her, “Please feel free.”
He sat himself comfortably but didn’t speak, which she was grateful for. Instead she looked out over the mountains as the sky lightened from blue to grey. It was beautiful, and for once having company didn’t spoil it, comfortable enough to close her eyes and just enjoy the quiet as if she were alone.
“The view is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s magnificent,” she replied opening her eyes again, “the most beautiful I’ve seen.”
The man nodded, “I like to watch the sunrise here.”
“You live here?”
“Yes. A cave a short way down the mountain.” he replied, looking out over the landscape before asking the question on his mind. “Why did you climb the mountain?”
The woman got the impression that the answer to this question was important, thinking it over carefully before she looked out over the landscape and threw it away. “For this moment. The freedom, the beauty, the satisfaction of a task well done. Everything.”
The pair fell silent again for a while, both turning back to the view before the man spoke again, his voice suddenly much deeper than it had been before. “What is your name?”
“Tek- Dōng Lóng’s teeth!” she started before she’d turned round enough to see the great white dragon and promptly fell over as she tried to scramble backwards. The dragon promptly threw their head back with a laugh, neatly displaying the teeth she had surely just sworn by.
Master of stealth my arse. “Don’t do that to me!”
The Alabaster Dragon laughed again before lowering his head to look at her, forelegs neatly folded to support his reared up neck and head, looking for all the world like an overly large cat. Cats, however, did not have such intelligence sparkling in their eyes or a brilliant gem on their forehead that glittered as the storm around the mountain top resolved itself into great white coils, “I am glad to see you do not bow and scrape.”
“If you’re expecting any reaction apart from falling over when you just transformed into a bloody dragon six feet away then I’d ask who the hell you’ve met,” the woman said bluntly as she rearranged herself into a sitting position, feeling decidedly strange as the immortal chuckled again. The Alabaster Dragon liked her sense of humour, who would have thought?
“Some very interesting people. What is your name?”
Now she had enough presence of mind to bow low to the one who had earnt her fealty above any other, “Tekao Béi, great one.”
The dragon’s head tilted slightly, obviously noting that she was named for his herald and watching her straighten to a normal seated position before he spoke again, “Tekao Béi, would you care to share the sunrise with me?”
“Of course, I don’t precisely see how I could stop you.” she said, then smiled, “But I’d enjoy that, thank you.”
And so they settled back into their former positions, the white haired woman and the white dragon side by side waiting for the sun to rise. It was strange, sitting here like this next to one of the Twelve Immortals without acknowledging each other or even speaking, but this was the Alabaster Dragon; it felt right just to share a comfortable silence like this.
She was glad she’d chosen the right Patron.
The sunrise was even more breathtaking than Béi had imagined, the untouched snow painted red and gold in sharp contrast to be black and blue mountains underneath. The sunlight spread in vibrant shafts, valleys and slopes thrown into sharp relief with sunlight glittering on icy rivers and waterfalls next to pitch black shadows. Warmth caressed her face and her smile spread until it was nearly a laugh. Yes, this was what she lived for!
She turned to smile at her Patron and found him still looking out at the landscape, regal and magnificent as the light coloured him, splitting and reflecting off the gem or washing across pure white scales with a beauty only slightly less amazing the landscape in front of her. Dōng Lóng was the landscape, he was living winter and the untamed harshness of nature. This was his kingdom and he was curled around the mountain like a throne, tail swishing far beneath. He was a force you could not beat, only survive, and she had the honour, the uttermost honour of seeing him in one of his private moments like this.
Her body bowed almost of its own accord, overwhelmed by his sheer presence and majesty, the bow truly meant as he turned his great head to look at her.
“You saw me.”
It wasn’t a question, just a statement. “Yes.” she replied, managing to recover her voice from the sheer awe.
“Lift your head.”
She did so and found herself looking into eyes as deep as storms, “You are mine.”
“Yes.”
The Alabaster Dragon nodded, “Where will you go now?”
The woman shrugged, “The next mountain, I guess,” she looked up at him, “unless you have any suggestions?”
“I hear that Northwest may be an interesting direction.” he said neutrally.
Béi stood, stretching with a grin, “No-one’s really been that far northwest, have they?”
“No, they haven’t.” the Alabaster Dragon sounded amused again, “Thank you for sharing the sunrise.”
“My pleasure,” she said with another grin as she threw off an informal salute, “it was an honour to share it with you.”
The dragon chuckled again as she began to wrap her head in her scarves, “Enjoy your travels, Child of mine.”
“Yes sir!” she said enthusiastically, walking towards the edge of the plateau as the great white coils slid away in front of her, hopping down onto the clear mountainside as the coils continued to slide away to either side of her, melting into mist and snowstorms as they did so.
The last she was of the dragon was the immense fan of his tail drag past and leave fresh untouched snow in its wake before it too slid out of sight, the bright sunlight nearly dazzling as she faced the rock strewn slope before her.
It was only when Béi took off her gloves the next morning to make breakfast that she noticed the sunrise was reflecting oddly off her skin, turning her hand this way and that in the dawn light before she realised there seemed to be ridges in the patterns on her skin. She then realised that she didn’t feel cold at all, and hadn’t since yesterday morning.
“Oh son of a bitch.”
There was the rolling boom of an avalanche in the distance that she swore sounded like laughter.
Featherfoot Greysky's bio
Twelve Paths utterly random fic. I have no idea how canon it is, but I thought I'd share it.
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“The mountain ponies of the far north and northwest act more like goats than horses, singularly unkempt with their shaggy coats and a sense of humour the Monkey King would approve of. They are not owned by anyone so much as steer their human where they want them to go unless their human is as clever or stubborn as they are. Unfortunately, both Winter’s Kirin and her mount fit this description.
I have yet to work out how they can climb a nearly vertical cliff as if it is nothing, but given that I have seen her horse cause a watchtower to collapse by pulling out nails with their teeth I have decided I am not even going to try and fathom the abilities of this unique breed of pony, particularly since they don’t appear to like me.”
- Ashen Quill, Secretary and Quartermaster to Commander Tekao Béi.
“Ashen Quill has been removed from his position as the unit’s secretary and quartermaster after the discovery of him selling sensitive military information to several notable noble backers and trying to kill the pony who found the documents hidden in his tent.”
- Commander Tekao Béi
Tingly feeling
Cam awakening fic, because of course that moment's going to get fic.
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I'd been feeling weird all day, enough out of it in the docks that it didn't occur to me I should stop these people who were threatening my city from bleeding. I don't fucking like muggers, and these guys weren't new to it. It just... fuck muggers, they'd kill a person for the few bits of small money that are all a watchman carries. Fuck muggers, still, they're people of my city... I shouldn't... they should face due course and justice. Sorry, I can't seem to think right now.
Sorry Taf, I'll try to do better, you were right. And Bralak's gonna be worried by that.
The tingling started not long after we entered the manor house, I thought it was the venom working its way through my system from that first blow, getting a firmer and firmer foothold as we went on, the ghost of sensations combined with how out of it I was did not bode fucking well. Still, I could and did blink that aside, people needed fucking saving, there was no time for me to falter or fail.
The tingling grew and spread every time it lapped across my consciousness, increasing every time I fell and forced myself up again, refusing to give up.
Just before we climbed the tower the tingling grew to a roar. I remember someone shouting something as energy flooded my senses and blinded me, feeling something rip free from my back as I fell into darkness.
I'm not sure where I floated, but it was quiet and dark, peaceful and safe in the way I'd only really felt near Bralak. After a moment I did recognise it, the place I'd seen in the dream, the darkness before I came across the tree. It took me another moment to realise a pleasant if slightly rough male voice was speaking from around me, and yet also right beside my ear as if I was cradled in their arms. The weirder thing was that I didn't mind, it just felt safe and warm.
You give of yourself, using everything in your power and everything in your possession to aid those who fight with you.
I've not given everything, I tried to say, though my mouth was too leaden to move, so I spoke with my eyes instead, I can still fight, I can still go further!
You have all that you need, except the fortitude to continue. They said in response, a gentle breath of wind stirring my hair as leaves swam in and out of my vision, tingling-rushing-strength-light spreading up my hands and into my core.
Take this, to aid you now, and know that I am watching.
The dark, peaceful place faded to normal closed eyelids and I blinked blearily, utterly disoriented and the world still horribly out of focus.
Rise, Child of Kormak. the voice commanded, the presence fading as I automatically found myself getting to my feet, blinking around at the world and people somehow so much brighter and more vivid than they had been before. I felt the three tenets sinking into my soul pulsing loudly enough that I could almost hear them, paying more attention to that feeling than the world around me, waiting to see if there was one more whisper of my God.
"Cam? Cam are you alright?"
Fingers snapped in front of my face, checking my sight, I followed them obediently to show that I could see before being distracted by the pyrokin's face. I wonder...
My fingers sketched the image of a tree in front of me, my sight flickered, but didn't quite shift. "You need to use the words as well," Taf said helpfully, I nodded and tried again, picking the standard kind of words that you normally hear from people doing... what I was about to do, and hoping like hell that I'd understood correctly.
"By the power of Lord Kormak, please let me see this one's soul."
This time the power rang true, the pyrokin's image shifting and changing until she was glowing, fuzzy around the edges and not quite all there, but still glowing.
Yeah, it's one thing to know half someone's soul got replaced by magic and another to see the damn thing. Also, holy crap, I was a priest.
Whose fucking idea was that anyway?
...Okay apart from Kormak.
Well I guess that answered the question of whether or not I was worthy.
Lunch at the Watchhouse
Random Watchhouse fic. Bored Militiamen gossip, who would have thought?
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"Any of you guys seen Cam around lately?" one of the four militiamen at the table asked as he dealt another round of cards, "seems we never get to play with her any more."
"Your own fault for giving her that bet that attached her to the Arms, Jack," the second grunted, "you know that place is trouble."
Jack raised an eyebrow at him, "Why'd you think I didn't want to go there? Six."
"You might be a Sergeant if you had," the third player chimed in, grinning wickedly as she threw in a card.
"And spend that much time with Bralak? I'd get flayed alive." Jack said again, "Not that she seems to mind though."
The fourth player barked a laugh, "I doubt she does or she wouldn't sleep in his office."
The second man raised an eyebrow, "Wait wait, Kat, backup. Cam and Bralak? But he's an orc."
"Yeah, and there have been at least two nights where she's staggered out of his office with a hangover the next day and got him coffee," she said sarcastically, "I let you draw your own conclusions. Hey Kim, your go."
The third player chose a card as the second man shifted uncomfortably, "Well I guess once you put it that way... Still, seems damn weird. Explains how they rose through the ranks so fast though."
"Pete, you fucking take that back," Jack cut in sharply, "she's saved a load of asses against the ghouls and made sure we were all okay. Cam's a damn good militiaman, she wouldn't stoop to getting a promotion that way, you know fucking well she works her bloody ass off, which is more that can be said for your piss poor performance."
Kim nodded, "Yeah, she just worked quietly in the background until being at the Wessex Arms got her noticed, the poor sod. Last card."
"Fuck's sake how'd you get rid of your hand so fast?" Pete spluttered, "Still don't get how you're not squicked out by human/orc sex though."
"Because it's not my business?" Kim shrugged, "though I'm kind of doubtful they are, they both look like they need to get laid too much to have fucked."
"Ooh good point," Kat replied, "damn, and they would make such a good couple."
"Well if she's sleeping in his office that's already halfway there," Jack pointed out, "and they do look like they need it, we should try to encourage them, Spades."
"No thanks, I like having my head attached to my body and I don't want to bet on who'd get there first." Pete replied, "Hey, don't suppose you guys have heard Cam sing, have you?"
"Sing?"
"yeah," he flipped a card into the centre pile and then scratched his head, "'Cos I heard they used to sing, down at the Goblin's Head, but we've never heard a peep from her."
Now the dealer leant back to think, "What's her surname again? H-something?"
"Errr..."
"Hayes, I think, it's somewhere in the watch records," Kat said with a shrug, "Why?"
"Not much, just there used to be these two sisters with a similar name who sang at the posher houses near my da's," he explained, "Last card. They were always nice to hear, but they kinda dropped off the map, wondered if Cam might have been one of them."
"Nice dresses, singing for nobles, that kind of thing? Cam?"
All four of them paused for a moment to try and match this image to the swearing informal Sergeant they knew,
"I can't even imagine the pretty dress, let alone singing for a load of stuck up bastards without punching one in the face," Kim admitted. "and I'm out."
"Dammit!"
The game dissolved into grumbles and complaints as Pete gathered the cards back together, a pamphlet left on the table catching Kim's eye before she pulled it over, "Hey, what's this?"
"Looks like something someone left by accident, let's have a look?" Jack asked curiously, taking it and flipping it open on the table, the others watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to horror, "What the... oh Gods."
"Is that troll porn?"
"Show!"
"Is that pose even possible?"
"I've no idea, I was trying to work out if that one was a cat or a goblin."
"Is that what a troll's junk looks like? Ewwwww..."
The laughter continued, more people getting drawn in by the slightly traumatised banter until the mess hall was as relaxed as it should be.
The Battle Choir
Empire fic for backup Highborn character.
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She loved to sing and dance, and here her voice rose as powerfully as the others in the battle choir. Strong, powerful and pure. Not the most traditional of Highguard songs, but it suited its purpose.
Axes flash, broadswords swing,
Shining armour’s piercing ring…
She didn’t normally march with shining armour to her right, but even if her job was usually to scout and stealth, the Cataphracts had needed a mage healer and ranged backup. Her voice wouldn’t put them to shame either. They thought the Unconquered couldn’t sing with how silent they were on missions, ha, that just meant they sang all the louder when they could.
The clouds hung heavy over them as they marched, some of the unconquered on the outside of the formation spinning their swords idly in time with the song. A pretty performance to show off their skill. She smiled a little and considered drawing her own to show them what she was capable of.
Everyone’s playful mood stopped as soon as the call that someone had seen the enemy sounded. Like a wave the song rose and the army rushed forward with it, words blurring her ears as they charged.
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How many of them can we make die!
The clouds roared in response, the world turning white as hail slammed down on them without warning, hard enough that even those who fought alongside her were indistinct. All that had her connected to the others were the words resounding through her head, sword moving in time as the highborn attacked.
Fight until you die or drop
A force like ours is hard to stop
A shift in the wind and the hail was slamming into her face, water stinging as her eyes as she tried to keep them open against the battering, stepping into someone else’s lee and blinking the ice away so she could keep fighting. For an instant the darkened battlefield was lit with bright lightning before thunder followed an instant later, allowing a brief glimpse of the enemy before they were plunged back into darkness, hail and the ever present song.
Close your mind to stress and pain
Fight till you're no longer sane
Nothing but song and blade and hail. There were people next to her she was sure, she pressed on, digging deeper into the orc flanks with flashing sword and dagger as the hail poured on.
Let not one damn cur pass by
How many of them can we make-
Her leg crumpled and she pitched forward onto hard cobblestones, arms coming forward instinctively to catch herself. Her knee hit the ground with a jolt and a bit-down scream of pain before the pain passed and she was able to move again. Get a purchase with the hated walking stick on the flagstones, weight onto the good leg and the stick to get yourself upright again, act like it didn’t happen, ignore the people staring.
She limped past the choir practice without a word.
A militiaman's tag.
Mini Cam fic. Domestic.
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Anne's eyebrows rose in surprise when she found Cam quietly sewing in the corner of her fabric store, "Cam?"
The militiaman jumped guiltily, " 'lo Anne."
"What's up?"
He looked uncomfortable, "Well I wanted to make my own watchman thing, seein' as I managed to get the rank insignia torn off when we were sortin' out the docks an' so I went and found some of your little offcut bits y'wouldn't miss too badly..."
Anne propped one hand on her hip, balancing her basket against her other hip, "let me see?"
He lifted it up and she winced, "Cam, this isn't the kind of cloth you want to use for a militia tag. No matter how neat your stitching is, this'll come apart as soon as it's damp or pulled."
Cam's hands lowered back down to his lap, looking at the bright red and blue forlornly, "But they were the only bits big enough that were the right colours..."
"You do realise you can use some bits that aren't offcuts, right?" Anne pointed out, "Just ask me, I can make you a proper tabard from the materials I get for the Red and Blue college robes..."
"I couldn't use that much!" Cam protested, "You make most of your money from those robes, I couldn't take good cloth!"
"Cam, you're my sister," Anne pointed out in exasperation, "If I can't make nice things for my family, who can I make them for?"
"Please Anne, If I have fancy stuff then I'll stick out like a sore thumb!" He looked at her pleadingly and eventually Anne sighed,
"Fine, how about a collar then? There's even that leftover curtain fabric that the water mage only belatedly told me they wanted in green rather than blue."
Cam's eyes lit up, "Would that be okay? Really?"
"Of course," Anne smiled and patted Cam on the head ans she went to to and integrate her new material into the pile, "Just use the standard tabs for a few more weeks, okay? Now go on, shoo."
"Yes sis!"
Flame and Ghosts
This is background fic for the 12 Paths of Heaven system again, this time the story of how Flowing Silk Ribbon joined the Pure Flame martial arts school. Set 11-13 years before campaign start.
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The babe grew to a child who remained just as fascinated at the dance of flame on gold, sometimes spending more time staring at the candle he was reading by than at the book itself.
It was late at night when he was a little under seven years old that there was a pounding on the main door while Flowing Silk Ribbon was sweeping the entrance hall. The boy carefully propped the broom against the wall and opened the smaller side door to see a man standing there like a taut string, constantly looking round behind him and his stance obviously well practised. On seeing a young child he frowned slightly.
"Child, I need a priest, quickly. Can you take me to one?"
The boy nodded once and beckoned them inside, swift and silent across the main hall, going to try and find one of the candles for the side passages when the man stepped in front of him and made an exasperated noise, "We don't have time to waste. Allow me."
All it took was a neat step and the swipe of a hand. Flowing Silk's eyes widened as the fire streamed into the man's hand, pooling gently in his palm like a kitten. He almost wanted to reach out and pet it like he had been so tempted to do with his candle flame, but he'd nearly got a burn from doing that before…
"Child?"
Flowing Silk jerked back to attention and bowed, keeping his mind firmly on his duty and not the dancing flame, "My apologies, this way." He let the man and the small flame light the way as the child led them through the maze of corridors to his mentor's room, kneeling in front of the door and knocking politely. "Master Li? There is a man here to see you urgently."
The man hadn't knelt, giving a small bow of apology and indicating the flame to show why he couldn't shift out of his stance, "I am sorry for intruding upon you at so late an hour, however the Yinghao clan have urgent need of a priest to pacify one of our dead." Pain flickered through his expression, "Please, I most humbly beg you for your assistance, he is my cousin, and was one of the Emperor's Personal Guard. I cannot bear to leave him like this."
Flowing Silk's eyes anxiously flicked to the Master as the old man sipped his tea gently, then set it aside with a sigh. Very well. Lead me to him." The old eyes shot to the side, sharp despite his years, "Flowing Silk Ribbon, you may return to your duties."
That was a dismissal if he had ever heard one, giving a polite bow from his seated position and slipping into the darkness before he realised he was lacking a light. The boy hesitated, remembering the friendly flame in the man's hand. Well... the pair would be heading back towards the exit soon, and there would be nothing wrong with following at a distance, particularly if it meant he could look at that flame and stance a little longer…
"I see,” Master Li’s voice drifted down the corridor, “that is quite severe, we shall need to be swift to prevent further damage to their spirit.” A moment later two two strode past Flowing Silk’s hiding place, grey eyes immediately drawn to the flame before they passed, leaving him in darkness again.
The child was almost amazed at his daring as he silently stepped out after them, footsteps silent as he followed at a distance. For all Master Li couldn’t walk very fast the young boy had a little difficulty following them unnoticed while still keeping sight of them. He was so busy concentrating on doing so that he barely noticed leaving the temple through a side door and following the little globe of light out into the Imperial City.
The wide streets of the temple district became the narrower ones of the market before spreading again into the wider ones that connected the Clan households. Still, it was nearly pitch black but for the light from windows and the bobbing flame ahead of him. Remembering what little basic training he’d had, Flowing Silk used those shadows and side streets to his advantage to duck out of sight, waiting quietly until it was safe to move to the next shadow.
He could start to see how the clan member was moving now, the movements strong but a little flowing, command in his bearing that was probably what he used to tell the flame what to do, but Flowing Silk was sure there was another way, you just needed to treat it gently and politely, a friend instead of a servant…
Flowing Silk’s head whipped round as a shape moved in the alleyway next to him, instinctively dropping into a roll and carrying him back to his feet to face his assailant, eyes sharp and hands raised before he recognised the wizened face and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He’d been so preoccupied with the stranger that he’d forgotten to check he was still trailing both of them.
“Flowing Silk Ribbon, this is unlike you.” Master Li began, the boy’s stomach dropping still further as he lowered his head, “You are usually so obedient, barely saying a word of what you think.”
The boy’s head dropped in shame, “I’m sorry, Master.”
“Look at me, young one,” gentle fingers lifted the boy’s chin as Flowing Silk fought to keep himself from crying, old eyes searching his young ones, “what has you so fascinated that you cannot help but follow?”
A flicker of panic, had Master Li noticed Flowing Silk daydreaming as he watched the fire? No, calm down, answer honestly, it was the least he could do to apologise for failing to follow their orders.
“Flame,” Flowing Silk managed to croak out, aware that the other man had rejoined them, watching the boy with an expression he couldn’t decipher and utterly ashamed of being unable to keep his voice level, or hide how his eyes were drawn to the movements he had already spotted, “I’m… so sorry.”
The old Master’s eyes softened, “There, that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?”
The boy blinked in confusion, “Master?”
“I will explain later, for now we have come far enough that sending you back by yourself is foolish.” The old man lifted off his bag, “You can carry this for now to save my shoulder, but I expect you do exactly as I say, do you understand? This is no game, you will be in very real danger of getting hurt.”
Flowing Silk’s eyes lit up as he accepted the bag, “Yes!”
“Don’t make me regret my decision,” they said simply before looking up, “Master Yinghao, please lead on.”
The group moved swifter now that Flowing Silk was carrying the bag of ritual components, peeking inside to take a look. Incense, mask, pre-written mantras of… sleep and binding, chimes. Fairly standard things for priest work, a bag kept ready for emergencies. “Master Yinghao, would you continue telling me about the ghost in question? I would prefer to pacify the spirit of such a noble man rather than seal it. If we can find the cause of his unrest...”
The Pure Flame user looked sad, “While we know the general cause we cannot seem to find the specific cause of his discomfort, he has never rested easily, for all that he took his own life to restore the Clan’s honour after he failed to protect the previous Emperor.”
The priest frowned again, “Strange, that should have eased his soul.”
Master Yinghao nodded, expression grave, “That is what we have thought these last six years.”
They hurried on as the priest asked more questions, about things they may have left undone, family and duties. Flowing Silk listened quietly as he observed his surroundings and the stance until they came to a large gate, Master Yinghao looking briefly at the guards (Singing Sword style, tense and alert, they were expecting trouble), “Where?”
“Last we heard 5 minutes ago he was past the lily garden and heading towards the Nursery, Rin-sama.”
Master Yinghao went white, “The children.”
All three of them burst into a flat out run, even Master Li managing a surprising turn of speed. Master Yinghao, Rin, sped ahead of both of them, his strides becoming wide and flowing as he spun, the small torch flame he had taken stretching and growing to become a living scarf of fire that lit the shrubs at the side of the path. Flowing Silk could feel the urgency now, his fascination with fire shifting into something else as he followed it. Instead of a fire outside there was one inside, warmth, determination and blazing energy, he had to help!
Their path took them through wide gardens and down a ridge which appeared to vanish into blackness. Flowing Silk realised with a jolt that the darkness was flowing water, the compound was large enough to hold a small river by itself. The thought vanished from his mind a moment later when he spotted the faintly glowing figure in the distance. He blinked and his eyes flicked around the features of the ghost. The ghost was wearing full armour with a glaive resting easily in his hand as he fought invisible enemies, their helmet obscuring his face and a talisman over their mouth. You could tell fairly easily why they had only got this far, the bushes around him had been desiccated by strikes from the glaive, the neat garden left a wreck in his wake.
It was easy to tell they were a ghost, but something was obviously wrong, off. It made Flowing Silk feel a bit queasy just to look at, but he shook it off and focussed at when his Master spoke. “We will need to speak to him to find the cause of this problem, but that talisman is strong. Master Yinghao, will you defend us while we set up the ritual?”
“Of course Master Li.” The man settled back into a more defensive version of the stance as Flowing Silk handed his Master the bag.
“Flowing Silk Ribbon, do you remember the words to the mantra we were practising the other week?”
The boy scrambled through his memory, and nodded slowly, “The protective one? I think so.”
“I need you to sing it and keep singing. Walk out the circle around me with the incense in your hands, go slow enough to keep it alight and shield it from the wind. Do not stop walking unless you need to do it to stay alive, if we both fall, run, do you understand?”
“Yes Master.”
“Good, now hold out your hands.”
Flowing Silk held out his hands obediently and a small incense cone was placed in the centre, the young boy breathing in the smoke and feeling himself calm despite the threat the ghost posed.
“Go.”
The boy nodded and started to sing, his voice slightly slow and unsteady at first before it rose, using his own footsteps to keep himself in time. It didn’t take long to fall into the rhythm, leaving himself with enough attention free to watch the others as well as keep his protection mantra going.
The armoured ghost had stopped a short distance away, their head tilted at an odd angle as if it had been broken. The boy frowned slightly, hadn’t the man taken his own life with his sword?
Master Yinghao was obviously thinking the same thing, “Cousin, what happened to you? Why is your glaive clean and your armour unmarked?”
This appeared to be the wrong thing to ask, the ghost’s head snapping up and back in a terrible wail before he charged, his glaive narrowly missing his cousin before the flame coiled round and struck back.
Most attacks would have simply gone through the ghost but the fire made them recoil slightly, breaking off their next attack before it hit. With an agile spin and a simple flip Master Yinghao avoided the next two attacks as well, keeping the Ghost’s focus on him as well as acting as a barrier.
The next one hit, though it left only a shallow cut it was enough to let the spirit get past and aim an attack at Master Li with another mighty wail. The old priest simply lifted his eyebrows as if he was observing one of the younger apprentices try to steal a sweet roll off his plate and made a small flick with his fingers. A moment later the ghost reeled back with a hiss as their helmet cracked in two, falling away to reveal that their features were starting to fade into blankness. The talisman was also fully visible now, and Flowing Silk frowned, ‘Seal and silence’? Why?
He couldn’t have committed seppuku, the boy realised with a start, it doesn’t add up, someone wanted a secret kept, otherwise they wouldn’t have been silenced!
Master Li’s hand snapped out to toss a bag of salt at Flowing Silk, who promptly started to trail salt as he walked, another circle forming as Master Yinghao went on the offensive to move the ghost away. He was only partially successful, for while he had reserved his strength the ghost was clearly more skilled than him.
Keep the circle, walk on the outside, make it as neat and perfect as he could. He was slightly surprised the ghost hadn’t gone for him though, had he even been noticed? The battle raged on, Flowing Silk nearly making a full circuit before the ghost’s glaive slammed Master Yinghao in the stomach and threw him away sideways to the other side of the ornamental river.
This time the ghost’s wail was triumphant as he charged the old priest, but the old man simply smiled and stepped backwards over the line of salt, slamming his hand down onto it with a final shout as Flowing Silk closed the circle.
Flowing Silk flinched at the ghost realised they had been tricked, the circle flaring with power as he struck it again and again, the eyes becoming even deeper and more hole like as the talisman’s edges started to crisp, Master Li waiting and watching as he waited for his spell to take hold.
“Master Yinghao, I came here to speak with you and ease your rest, please, let go of your anger and speak.”
The circle blazed… and died, the talisman still in place, the pure flame master still out of reach, Master Li still kneeling and vulnerable. There was only Flowing Silk who could do anything.
The ghost roared with triumph and swung their glaive high in an executioner’s strike.
“STOP!”
The glaive stopped less than an inch above the child’s head where he stood between the ghost and his Master, arms spread, breathing heavily from the burst of speed, grey eyes firm and steady as he locked wills with the ghost.
Both the masters looked on in shock, then amazement as the ghost’s face shifted, the shadows lifting until a middle aged man was staring at the young boy in equal shock before he set aside the glaive and knelt to get a closer look at him, then lunged forward to wrap him up in a tight hug.
Flowing Silk blinked in surprise as Master Yinghao landed quietly back on their side of the river, moving to help Master Li to his feet. “The nursery,” Master Yinghao said softly enough that only the old priest heard him, “he was worried about the children.”
“Then it is fortunate indeed that Flowing Silk Ribbon followed us,” the priest murmured back.
Flowing Silk’s expression softened, one hand moving to gently pat the armoured back and return the hug, “See? It’s all okay now, right?”
The Ghost - no, Master Yinghao’s cousin - nodded, pulling back to show tears streaming down their face before hurriedly wiping them away. Flowing Silk smiled brightly, “Would you like to see your children before you rest?”
He hesitated for a moment before he shook his head gently with a smile, giving them all a deep bow of apology and thanks before the shape inside the armour faded away and the empty pieces clattered to the floor.
Almost immediately Master Yinghao moved forward to pick them up, cautious but gentle, expression hard to distinguish between gratitude and loss, bowing to Master Li when he had gathered all the pieces, “Thank you, myself and the Yinghao family are once more in debt to the Temple of the Golden Phoenix. The relief of knowing my cousin will at last sleep peacefully is not a thing that will be easily repaid, material goods alone do not do the feeling justice.”
“I believe that it is not myself or the Temple you should be thanking, but Flowing Silk Ribbon,” Master Li pointed out gently, “and I believe that I know a way you can repay him.”
Both of them looked at the old man in surprise, who smoothed his chuckle to a smile, “I believe that Flowing Silk Ribbon followed us because he was fascinated by the Pure Flame style, when I caught him he was trying to emulate your movements. I have never seen him so openly transfixed by something.” The smile grew wider, “I believe that sponsoring him to the Pure Flame school and ensuring that he receives adequate tutelage would settle your debt.”
Flowing Silk gaped, “M-Master?”
Master Li smiled broadly, “You need to learn a path, and this is clearly one that calls to you. The only reason you have not been introduced to a school yet is because you said nothing of where your heart wished to walk.”
“Oh…”
Now Master Yinghao was smiling, “It would be my pleasure to sponsor you. I do not doubt you will show the proper diligence in following our teachings. Come to the House gates at noon tomorrow, I will be done with my urgent duties by then.”
Flowing SIlk beamed, his face lighting up with joy, “Yes Master!”
Carefully placed words
There was a LARP player event that I ran recently for Empire, and significant amounts of fic have resulted from it that I will cross paste from the Empire fic group.
For now, here's a longer piece of fic to do with some of the fallout from the event. It is family fic, and contains Cambion being *very* Cambion.
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The timeless kitchen was old and worn, filled with the kind of air only years of washing and use can bring. It is winter and an older Cambion sits at the table with a worn mug in her hand, dark jewel colours reflecting off the dazzling copper of her horns and markings, face glittering slightly as she ducked it slightly to take another sip. Excellent, a quiet winter morning and a cup of tea. "Mama? We have letters from Josephine." One eyelid cracked open. Her youngest daughter was trying far too hard to keep a lid on her excitement. For all she was a Cambion anyone could see the summer in the bright gold of her horns and the bounce in her step. Yes, she was glad one of her friends had been able to train her, it couldn't hurt to branch out into other Realms. "And how much of yours have you read already?" "All of it, but I need to read it again," Sylvia said, excitement only just hidden, "But she says I'm to let you read yours before I say anything about it." Now the coven head's eyes snapped open. If Josephine was reading actions ahead like that... "Give me it." Sylvia instinctively jumped at that tone, handing it over abruptly, her demeanour shifting slightly to how she was in coven meetings, emphasising the Autumn in her nature, a member of the coven her Mama led. The older cambion's eyes shot to the letter itself, as she thought, the letter handed to her felt heavy, a proper seal and good paper. Waterproof, not able to be read against the light, would require skill to reseal, but looked ordinary enough to pass. Yes, her middle daughter was in business mode. Dear Mama, Again, formal, she was taking this seriously and wanted to tell her to as well. Very well. The Betrothal party went brilliantly, you'll be glad to hear. But it is about something I found out there that leads me to write to you. How much do you know of the troubles in Reikos? Hm. The refugees are flooding over the border into Casinea and Adina's Charge, the Chapter I visited on my test of mettle and the ones who visited briefly, are right on the front lines. They have been living on rations and the bare minimum of sleep for months due to needing to look after and feed the refugees. They told no-one just how bad their situation was before the party, but they were both tight and worn. I intend to help them and I promised to do so as a Lady of Novarion. We have enough to spare and I know that you have resources you haven't tapped into. I'm not asking you to use them yet, but the time may be coming close to when you'll have to. For now I'm putting together a few carts of spare food and blankets to send to Adina's Charge. If you can spare some herbs it would be ideal, and I know that you've spare blankets with the ability to make more. I am asking Sylvia to act as guide and scout. She is good at stealth and can handle the terrain. They shouldn't have too much trouble on the journey, but with the border being so close I would be surprised if there weren't raiders. There will be healers with them, but I suspect they will need Sylvia's wilderness skills and speed. I believe she can do this, and you know as well as I do that you won't be able to keep her here forever. Read Sylvia's letter and you'll see I'm giving her as much information as I can, she's got friends there and Barachel knows she's coming, if there was ever a time for her to leave the nest and see if she can fly, this is it. We cannot live in a bubble forever. Virtue guide you, - Lady Josephine Novarion She saw all the things Josephine hadn't said, all the memories she referenced, showing her in the kindest way possible that her daughter had seen through the illusion of isolation and safety she had worked to create all these years. For Josephine to write a letter like this with all the formal trappings... it was basically a call to arms. Calling her to take up arms again. For a moment the wooden walls felt thinner, less sturdy, less of a barrier against the howling wind outside. Her hands tightened around her cup, eyes half closed in loss and defeat before she spoke again, though her tone remained normal, if a little tired, "Sylvia, may I see your letter?" Her youngest daughter looked up, expression faintly surprised before she smoother it back to stillness, "Yes Mama." A quick glance over showed that it was as carefully crafted as her own, but this time for clarity and helpfulness. With a set of instructions and advice like this it was a much more conventional offer to take up arms, an offer, not a call. Of course Sylvia would go for it, but the letter was neutral, not even using Sylvia's natural curiosity against her, setting things out plainly in a way that Sylvia would instinctively recognise as Josephine being serious, just as she had done with the other. Franker phrasing, but a more pleasant message and yet another mark as to Josephine's sincerity. Dammit, she really had done all she could to try and prepare her for this, even saying that it was her choice and hers alone and that she would have to live with the consequences of what she chose. Another reminder to her mother that she had a similar choice to make, though on second thoughts she was less sure about how intentional that was. She wasn't sure whether she should be proud the fact that after everything it would be her human daughter who managed to bring her down. ... Well played, Josephine, you win. Evelyn straightened and set the letter down on the table, tucking her own into a pocket as she stood with a creak, shoulders set back as her body automatically remembered how a soldier stood. "Thank you, I believe you need to think about it. Come and find me when you have, I believe I remember where I put the old blankets, send Jemima to me when you have the time please." ++++ The weapons room at the back of the house was old and dusty, but well maintained and tidy in preparation for the lessons her grandchildren would be starting to learn soon, after all, Dawnish never let good equipment be uncared for. Evelyn walked quietly among them towards the cupboard at the back of the room, reaching out to gently touch a sword, a dagger, a staff. Hers, her weapons. They were still being cared for, good. A small golden key flashed in the winter sunlight for a moment before the cupboard unlocked with a click and she looked over the contents inside and her eyes softened. ... Bless them, whoever had picked the locks to look after it had even re-locked the thing. Polished leather reflected the dim light on the armour stand, catching in the grooves of the runes and embossed patterns trailing across the surface. The bandolier would need to be adapted to hold a quiver, but that should be easy enough to do if it was needed. Good, it would probably fit Sylvia, for all that she was thinner than Evelyn had been at her age and height. The ran her fingers gently over the leather pauldrons, her mouth cracking into a faint smile. It was still smooth and steady, slightly soft to the touch and warm under her fingertips. A thought flickered across her mind and her fingers froze. What if she needed it? A moment later she faltered and resumed her movements. No. That wasn't her job any more. And she wouldn't be able to do anything even if she could, let the young have a chance at living longer. She looked at the armour and gave it a last fond smile before she shut the door. Just because she could not wear it didn't mean it shouldn't be used.
Autumn Morning by stefan9
Outside the gates of Errinstown
The leaves fell down like rain,
To form a softer bed
For those who would not rise again.
- Excerpt from 'The Siege of Errinstown'
Dawnish Manners
Short drabble for Josephine. Being the human daughter of two Cambion was never going to be easy. Thank you to Nyeti for the prompt.
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Her hands curled neatly around the handles on her knife and fork. Maybe a little tight, but that could hardly be spotted, especially with the little girl's face turned down to the table as she carefully did not listen to the discussion happening outside.
"Still Evelyn... you must know the rumours, she'll never be accepted by the nobility, and she's not even got the advantage that would help with the magic, she stands out like a sore thumb and calls your integrity into question!"
Josephine's mother's voice was calm and deadly cool, "I'm sorry, I don't think I quite get what you're trying to say, because I almost swear you just implied my daughter was useless."
The other children around the table were very carefully not looking at Josephine. The girl noted with absent-minded detachment that her knuckles were white as the Cousin talking to their mother hastily backpedalled. Everyone knew that you shouldn't mess with Mama.
"That's not what I'm saying, just that she's going to have a tough time here, maybe it would be better for her to go elsewhere? I know these lovely people in Semmerholm I'm sure she'd get on well with, and..."
Josephine had heard enough. She carefully set down her knife and fork, standing with a polite bow to the other children, "Please excuse me, I have something that I need to deal with."
Jemima grinned, "Go get him sis."
The human child scampered to the back room and grabbed the wooden practice sword, shoving the boots on and flying out the back door to round the corner to the front of the house and screeching to a stop at her mama's bellow and the chime of unsheathed steel.
"DID YOU JUST FUCKING SUGGEST SENDING MY DAUGHTER OFF TO THE NAVARR?"
Their cousin took half a step back from the furious Cambion, hands half raised, "I..."
"Draw fucking steel sir, I challenge you to a duel. You insult my Pride and my Loyalty."
"And mine," Josephine found herself saying, stepping forward, eyes flashing with anger just as much as her mother's, "In front of my entire family, did you really think we wouldn't hear you inside?"
"Sweetie, stand back," Josephine's mother said quietly, copper-rimmed brown still fixed on their cousin, "You're not old enough to duel with steel yet."
"He's insulted me as much as, or even more than you," Josephine said stubbornly, "I'm owed a duel."
Her mother's expression relaxed enough to smile, "And people question that you're our daughter. Let me kick his ass first, sweetie. Go get another wooden sword."
"Yes Mama." Josephine scampered off back around the house.
Josephine's mother checked that her daughter was out of sight before stance shifted and settled, "Now, let's see if I can't teach you some manners while she's gone. Draw!"
Here, I know who I am
Posting this older fic across from the M&M fic community, because I love the way it came out. For reference, this is a Regency era setting, Annie being the name of the Golden Bonded there. No FOIP, system has ended.
Long fic is long, also the way it's written may be rather misleading. That said, Annie manages this kind of mental manipulation so easily that it's blatantly obvious why she learnt magic, Enjoy!
Here I know who I am. I am no lady, as I so often tell people. The smiling quiet politeness of the perfect servant is just as false as Adelaide. I wonder if I act the part of a gentlewoman too well, and worry it should give away my other masks. And then I remember that Adelaide is just as real as the servant because both live inside me. The mask of the lady is the dress and the polite small talk which says nothing, the servant’s is the improvised mob cap and the small bob of a curtsey which is the only one she can do without wobbling. The two identities float in my mind’s eye in pillars of light. Here I know who I am, the masks I wear. Sprinting across forest floor, one hand on my medic’s kit and the other on my gun so they do not impede my speed. The motion is natural and for a moment I see myself from the outside, face set and calm as I fall to my knees and wait for the surgery to finish, waiting to see if I am needed. The calm doctor and competent servant. This mask lies in the apron, the gun, the nurse’s kit. No.... not quite right. The image shimmers and splits, the apron and the well-equipped belt separating. The apron represented competence, fitting that she always carried it with her. Here I know who I am, the masks I wear and those I discard. Her mobcap has come off and she shoves it idly in her pouch, sitting comfortably with a gun in each hand and eyes on the door. A flicker of irritation as someone tells her off for not being respectful enough with their use of titles. For heaven’s sake this may become a battlefield, did she REALLY think this was an appropriate time to care about what she called people as long as they did the thing they’d been told to do several times over? In a moment the servant’s mask is back, part of her mind gently reminding her that if they all completely let go of the social structure then that threatened the very structure of society. As much as part of her would like to drop it all there is no hesitation between the reprimand and the “sorry ma’am,” she replies with. There is a life after this fight and she is not in charge of the people in this room, no matter how undisciplined the male Russian officer or how fragile Miss Mortimer seems. The belt was the waiting defender, prepared for trouble with eyes as calm as steel and sharp as the birds watching from the trees. Here I know who I am, the masks I wear and those I discard, where I have come from. I am no lady. I told someone that being a servant is a mask, but that is not quite true. The lower class needs a mask in order to survive. I am lucky never to have been truly lower class and fight for a living, but I have seen enough, experienced enough of those who have that I know what it involves. I have even fought like them, gun raised against those who might be no different from me had our parents been switched. An accident of birth separating the two sides. This pretty world of high society where money flows like water. Enough money to feed a town for a year or more is spent on a teddy bear. I feel the two pounds I had been so proud of resting in my bag and feel tears sting at my eyes. The numbers keep getting larger and despair runs through me as I realise just how truly I do not belong in this world. I make my excuses and leave the room, images of rickety wooden houses and muck-covered alley-children running around me, tears of disillusionment and anger held behind the calm mask until I am in the darkness where it is safe to silently scream. The rumpled note and a few pennies float in another spotlight. I recognise and accept them for what they are, a constant reminder that no matter how much I may blend in or make friends, I am only 2 pounds and scattered pennies at the bottom of a purse. Here I know who I am, the masks I wear and those I discard. Where I have come from, who I want to be. Kind eyes as I kneel next to them, sorrow in my mind as I reach out a hand in a desperate wish to do something, to change something, do anything she could to ease their pain. But she was a doctor, not a soul soother. She could get tea, water...? No, it was fine, thank you Annie. Taking the offered hand and the hug, letting her be close, just to give some human contact, just to break the bubble of solitude that was so easy to form. Look, I have a pulse, see? I’m alive. People become memories, as long as the memories stay they are not gone. They are... just around the corner, just out of sight. Come on ma’am, I can feel the tears you’re not shedding... Offers of help, genuine and sincere. I do not want anyone to hurt. I do not want to lose anyone. I do not want anyone to be in pain any more, from the masks that bind them or the weight that crushes their shoulders. Please. Speak to me. Take my hand. Thank you Annie. The outstretched hand, simple and clean, a pure and simple offer of help. Here I know who I am, the masks I wear and those I discard. Where I have come from, who I want to be, what lies behind. Fierce energy runs through me, I can feel my movements changing to become more fluid, animal like with gun in each hand as I run, a wild grin on my face as my eyes sparkle. I wonder if this is what the hunt feels like as I watch myself stalk around the fight, fierce and free. I have felt this before as I spin away, this wild abandon as I fire shot after shot. Free of the masks, free of being human, of being less, of being polite, of deception of acting, of masks... Here all are equal and I am free. I would be thrown out for this core of wildness, it could harm people, harm my reputation, my master. But for once I am free to laugh as I ride the wave of power. It will fade, and I will be both horrified and hungry for this feeling again, but I know it is a place I can only visit, for I have seen what happens when that wildness escapes. I am human and I must remain so, no matter how much my soul wants to answer the Veela’s call. Dual pistols float in the air now, hands spread to sides, a wild invite in my eyes. The dare of someone challenging the world. Here I know who I am, the masks I wear and those I discard, where I have come from, who I want to be, what lies behind and what is left after it is all taken away. I stand in the darkness outside the ring of light from the main hall, half an eye on the woods. I just watch, alone in the darkness and unseen. Someone slips out in a ripple of bronze and my eyes follow her without my body moving. She does not see me, I let her pass undisturbed, as detached and neutral as any of the trees watching. I watch someone inside pour another glass of wine with neutral eyes, no emotion or expression. This is who I am, the person standing aside to watch outside the circle of light. I am comfortable out here as I lean against the tree in the darkness. The spots of light float around me in the darkness. Dress, mob cap, apron, belt, guns, hand, pennies. I look at the facets for a moment and smile dryly. These masks were all as real as each other, all made from me. Here alone in the darkness here I could see them, all the parts that made up me. Well... maybe not all, after all, there was still the part at the centre far older than the rest of them. The eyes that watched, analysed, chose. Was this her? After all the masks and all the moods had been stripped away layer by layer... was this what was left? A figure of unseen shadows who simply watched? She stretched out her hand and with a silent summons the spots of light all rushed together to form an image in her hand looking up at her. It was peaceful, to stand here as nothing and look down at all the selves other people saw, knowing both how true and how false your own soul was. Annie Hodgeson, huh? She sighed and closed her eyes, letting her clothes, her masks, settle back around her, not quite fitting for a moment over her shape, the shadowy figure with the eyes and the endless age looking at them ruefully for a moment, unwilling to don humanity and the chaos it brought for just a little longer. Here in the darkness I know who I am. And I am nothing.
