A missing persons poster, there on the wall. The almost-golden paper had a beautiful border like the frieze on a palace, and in the centre, the thin inky lines coalesced to form the image of a face. Sapiele Istafryl, crown princess of Kvarlhidthe, missing for three moons. There was something about her - all fey were otherworldly by nature, but this picture… Frankie furrowed her brow, still looking. Perhaps it was the eyes - yes, they seemed to stare right through her, even in just this sketch; those eyes pierced through the page and to life, and Frankie felt sure that she’d know them as soon as she saw them in real life.
kuerua has been rocked by the news of the disappearance of sapiele istafryl, crown princess of kvarlhidthe. there are those who are devastated by the news — nobody knows if she’s run away, been kidnapped, or is dead — and there’s those who are eager to get their hands on the queen’s hefty cash reward for finding her.
meet frankie — errand girl for hanserinera, notorious adventurer and sometime criminal. she’s been sent on a mission to gather a team of specialised adventurers from all over the country to find the missing princess. there’s only four on the list, but the ragtag team expands much beyond what han intended.
noone seems to care too much about the istafryls, but everyone seems to have their reasons to want to join the quest. there’s more to this journey than just a missing princess — a violent cult, whispers of necromancy, pirates, and magic that really shouldn’t be messed with.
he’s the monster that lurks in spaces set apart for dreaming, who twists and shapes and moulds the fabric of dreams into nightmares with tentacles and hands. he’s the monster whose eyes gleam like fresh fallen snow and pearls from the deep. he’s the monster who set up armies just to knock them down and laugh at the wreckage.
he’s the monster they say could only be defeated by one man; he’s the monster they say was defeated by one man.
but the thing about legends is that the truth is murky and the ending isn’t always what it seems.
the thing about legends is: he’s the monster, but he sure as hell wasn’t killed in some great glorious battle. he’s the monster, but to his chagrin he didn’t take the hero down with him.
(he’s the elder who keeps her company as she walks the caves that once held so many secrets. he’s the elder who acts like a giant cat, too proud to ask for affection and demanding it anyway. he’s the elder who leaves gifts of exotic flowers, of salted caramel, of honeycomb, on her kitchen table and feigns ignorance with a blush that fools no one.
he’s the elder who lets her tangle fingers in his hair, locks the colour of sapphires and the deep ocean, and pull until he moans. he’s the elder who pins her against stone walls, clutching her hands like they’re the last thing tying him to reality, as his tentacles writhe and stroke and tease her to a gasping completion. he’s the elder who taunts and mocks and dominates, yet he falls so easily to the slightest amount of fire in her eyes.
he’s the elder of the deep and of dreams and of nightmares, and if he’s a monster, and if loving him makes her a monster, she doesn’t care.
no monster would cradle her with the tenderness he does.)
tsenpha doesn’t actually have a big overarching villain! but it does have a group that initially fulfills a villainous role. they’re called the magic hunters (or, affectionately, the villain squad)
they exist bc the king of lobelia, darius, initially has a strong fear and hatred of magic as a whole. ironically, all of the main members of the group are magic, technically.
alastair is the leader! he also isn’t a big fan of magic but that can be explained by the fact his is harming him just by virtue of him having it, not that he’s initially aware of it.
briony is the ex-spirit of healing and she’s equal parts voice of reason, healer and enabler. darius considers her his best friend and uses as an unofficial adviser.
dracul is lizard folk, people who take characteristics from lizards who are said to have been either blessed or cursed (depending on who you ask) by the spirit of lizards.
kyria is a necromancer archeologist who’s here because she wants respect despite some of her theories being considered laughable (not that they’ll be laughing forever…)
and the orions griffin (orion 1 and orion 2) are the same person, except with drastically different personalities. orion 2 comes from a mirror world to tsenpha, after a magic accident of some description.
keeps getting cursed into various fairy tale princess scenarios. if there's a way to fall asleep and have to be woken up with a kiss, he's done it. if there's a tower, and there are way too many towers, he's been trapped in them. it's just routine at this point
wears dresses a lot, which he assumes is why he keeps getting cursed. a case of weird mistaken identity, if you will. he's keeping the dresses.
was probably cursed at birth, or so he says, to fit the character of a princess since his hair can't stay short for more than a few days. it's weird and he's just tired at this point.
does he have the means to be very flowery with his words? yes. does he have the want? not particularly, so he'll stick with being a grump.
runs a flower shop. should probably take more care with the flowers that have thorns if his track record is anything, does not.
was raised by their older half sister, since their dad is a typical bard and their other parent decided parenting? wasn't for them
decided to be a detective bc they're nosy as hell and want to know all the drama and so on
is something of a paranormal enthusiast, except that limits them to only ghosts so really they're a ghost junkie with too much of a liking for haunted/possessed stuff
also incapable of really identifying other races. like you could lay out all the facts and identifying features and they'd still be like "uhhh... you've got scales" until you straight up told them you were a mermaid or whatever
is *not* a witch, but they are a nature mage. not a strong one, admittedly, but their flowers live for ages so that's really all they care about
there are times when she ponders just how much she lost when she cast away her spirithood for a life of exile. there are times when she wonders why some things remain whilst others fade.
and there are times when she's thankful for something remaining, when she steps onto lands she hasn't been to in centuries.
there is rage and there is hate and there is grief; trees stand as gravestones around a bloody scene, their leaves falling and growing and falling in a constant cycle.
there's vacancy in his gaze; the lights are on but who is home to greet you? there is he, standing in a graveyard of his creation whilst his enemies rot and return to what they sought to take.
there's a sharp movement, a head snapping back and eyes narrowing at the being who steps into silence. there is recognition, and there is shame, and there is grief.
there is a head turning. there is someone stepping into his field of view. there is hands on his cheeks.
there is the spirit who cast off her aspect out of rage, there is the spirit who only knows how to rage on behalf of his aspect, and there is understanding.
there is briony, spirit of nothing, and florence, spirit of nature, standing where dead things help living things to grow.
is the oldest of many, many, many half siblings bc her dad is a bard and physically incapable of settling down. only round up raising one of her siblings tho
is also a witch, but kind of downplays her magic as very strong nature magic until she has to reveal her witchiness bc she likes being mysterious
runs a bakery/cafe, but also solves mysteries bc otherwise nihan would be going it alone and rojda does not have faith in their ability to not get themselves killed
has been in her town, clearbury which is a reused name bc what the hell right, for years. she's got many secrets hidden all over the place and she likes it like that
is vaguely acquainted with maeve and dio, and by vaguely, i mean they spend a lot of time trading information through crystal ball
unbind me? (preferably from a curse, but depends what you’ve got)
hi lizzie sorry this took several weeks (i think??? idk man) asdfghjkl you know how it is. this is called once upon a dream in my docs bc i think i'm funny or cute or whatever.
.~.~.~.~.~.
falling asleep after brushing his finger against a particularly pointy thorn, or after stabbing his finger with a needle, or even from a splinter, are expected parts of his everyday life, at this point.
(it's been happening since childhood and he still wants a word with whoever's doing it, not that he expects he'll ever get answers.)
that doesn’t mean he likes it; not in those fuzzy few seconds before he slips into unconsciousness, when he realises what’s happened for the millionth time, and not when he wakes up on the floor, since no one ever really bothers to move him unless he fell in public. a side effect of this being a common issue, he knows.
still, he’ll admit to liking fact that the first thing he sees when he wakes up tends to be one rojda kartal leaning over him. he especially likes the amused smile that crosses her face, the way her purple eyes glimmer like precious stones, and the way she brushes a strand of purple hair behind one of her pointy ears as she straightens up.
“one of these days,” she says, although they both know that it won’t happen, “you’re gonna remember to be careful with flowers with thorns.”
“that would mean being careful with myself,” he quips back, sitting up. typical, he fell in his own shop.
“that would be a minor miracle, considering…” she trails off, still smiling in amusement.
falling asleep, or as he calls it ‘the princess curse’, aren’t things he particularly likes. he sure as death would allow them to continue if he could stop it.
but… he does like that rojda is the only one who seems to break the sleeping curse. he does like that she’s the one to free him from the various towers he winds up in.
he has to find something to like in this situation, right?
his room smells like flowers, he notices without opening his eyes. for a second he think he left the window open and it's the palace gardens he's smelling, but then memories assert themselves and he realises just what mix of flowers he's smelling.
or, well, plants, he supposes. he might not know much about botany, but he knows some of what he's smelling most definitely isn't flowers.
a mix of roses and lavender, with an undercurrent of mint and something else herby he can't name.
there's warmth behind him, he knows, so he rolls over and reaches out blindly, hand landing on bare skin marked with scars he can feel.
she makes an indignant noise and rolls over, her own eyes still closed as well.
"your hands are fucking freezing," she says, aims kisses blindly at his arm.
he laughs, wraps an arm around her to lessen the distance between them.
"I suppose you'll have to warm them up then," he guesses where her forehead is, aims a kiss there.
"not bloody likely," she grumbles, her kisses soft against his neck. he wonders if she knows what kissing someone's neck means to his people, decides she must.
"and anyway," she continues against the skin of his jaw, "I thought you were supposed to be the walking oven."
"cold-blooded, bri, remember?" he plants kisses on her face randomly, not calculated like how she kisses.
the resulting laugh is soft and airy, her palms cool as she cups his face.
"and here you were bragging about being a dragon, bitey one," briony says, before kissing him.
her lips are still as soft as they were last night, she was still just as in control.
oh how he could come to love moments like this, dracul thinks.
he's down to his last two brain cells and they haven't been on speaking terms since he was a kid. everyone but him has to deal with that bc he does not care
will bite any number of inedible (if you're a coward) objects. plates? sure. tables? yes. forks? uh huh
he gets roped into a lot of schemes and they are only sometimes against his will. he likes to cause chaos and make alastair sigh what more can he say?
almost always winds up slightly bloody and, whilst yes it can be because he went with violence, it can be attributed to him being an idiot. sometimes. mostly it's because of violence.
will throw things in a fight if he feels like it. usually rocks, sometimes trees, occasionally weapons. it's all very in the moment.
come one come all and take my quiz to find out if you are actually too sexy to be on tumblr! answer some questions where i will psychoanalyze your tumblr vibes and determine whether you’re sexy, ugly, or corrupted. if you get ugly you have to deactivate please and thank you! enjoy!
again i'm doing one of those open tag things (???), again from @raevenlywrites (thanks!)
anyway
"of course, she probably has the most right to be amused by this whole situation. apart from him, but he’s never gotten over the fact he keeps being cursed to sleep."
tagging... @myreidola to be annoying lmao i have no one else to tag
tagged by @cheshirequeenwithoutaheart an eon ago, here's my last line(z):
On the cusp of turning back and begging Han to cash in her favour literally any other way, a trace of something - a glimmer of hope, or at the very least curiosity - emerged, a huge black blot among the shadowy trees. Gnarled and old, the shape of a truly enormous tree started to take form in her vision. Frankie approached with caution. This thing could span out across the entire forest, for all she knew; its fat roots reached out like bulbous, veiny fingers to where she stood, still a good twenty yards away.
tagging anyone who wants to do it because i don't know who's active nowadays! please do tag me if you do it so i know who likes tag games c:
Hello, dear! You've been visited by the random character question fairy! :D ~☆
How does your character's past affect their actions and thoughts?
thank you!
there's a few that could be interesting for this one, i think, so i'll give a couple of different answers.
frankie tends to keep her head down because of her past, in the sense that she's not really interested in anything other than her work and her small bubble of trusted people. she doesn't mind meeting new people, but has no intentions of making new friends. she can be quite apathetic and pessimistic, lacking any kind of belief in fellow human (and non-human) beings.
ducat tries to live in a way which tovania would approve of. he's capable of much worse things, and a part of him will always want to take revenge more directly, but he's been shaped by his experiences with the former queen, and believes that remaining loyal to her after her death means conducting himself in a way that she would approve of.
cyuris lives quite impulsively and indulgently. she's always pushing her luck and thinks this is a good thing, because it's what she's always been told off for - now she's rebelling against the home she didn't particularly like. but this, along with the very privileged way she was raised, has led her to have very little regard for how her actions affect others.
why am i only motivated to write things that have major spoilers for the entire series
oh well, please enjoy, and thanks for the ask!:
For not the first time, Sapiele was beginning to consider that maybe, this time, she’d gone too far.
No, this was definitely not the first time, but judging by the gleaming point of a cutlass in her face, it could quite possibly be the last. As always, she’d let her humble body be possessed by the spirit of the high seas, had let the latest of her ephemeral passions lead her here, onto this ship, and into the General’s trap.
Splinters of wooden planks hung from the ceiling like crooked teeth. The light was dim, and the room tainted with the rotten scent of a briny wooden maw. She had truly landed herself in the belly of the beast, now.
Every sinew in her body was twitching, electrified, her mouth spilling garbled garbage pleas even she couldn’t make out. The sword remained still. Its owner slowly cocked a brow.
‘I’m not going to kill you,’ he said, his tone languid, easy. She took him in with the wide eyes of a student before a master — the sea salt still fizzing through her veins seemed to draw her here, and even on the brink of something she couldn’t quite bring herself to give up the call of the seas. She wanted to learn from this man — how he stood so steady on the rocking deck, how he held her gaze with such unwavering surety, how he used the ocean like it was bending to his will.
This ocean world would be her queendom, she decided.
‘Not everyone thinks murdering their enemy’s children is the right way to prove a point. But I will need you to give me one good reason not to ship you back home to your mother.’
No, no, no— she could feel it all once more, every pain taken in this journey, as the freezing water crashed against the side of the ship and left her chilled through. The ache in her back from hiking up Rhyllisor’s great hills; the constant façade of magic, a wall of glamour she’d held up for days now; the books — the books, not the books—!
It couldn’t all be for nothing. She wouldn’t let it.
If the pearly turrets of the palace were still on the fading horizon, Sapiele had not gone far enough.
‘Because you’ll get in trouble?’ she tried. ‘Since mum already doesn’t like you - ’
‘I’m not so stupid as to walk into the palace openly myself,’ the General snapped. ‘Although, as you so kindly pointed out, I have no good repute to lose... So why not ransom you?’
Don’t push your luck, Sapiele.
‘Well, it’s not the sort of thing Tovania would want - ’
‘Do not soil her name in your pathetic attempts at bargaining,’ he hissed, but his voice was quivering almost as much as his sword. Sapiele watched down her nose at the point of the blade dancing around erratically. ‘You have no idea what Tovania would have wanted.’
Don’t push your luck, Sapiele.
‘Well, I admit I never knew her - ’ She shifted, trying to buy herself an inch or two from the blade. The whole world was lighter now, she marvelled, with her hair shorn short. ‘ - But I’ve read about you, and I know about Tovania, and how she was a much nicer Queen than my mum, and everything - definitely not the taking hostages sort - ’
‘I said, don’t you say her name. And I don’t care what you’ve read. I am not her.’
That’s right, thought Sapiele. This was not the kindly Old Queen, but the General, the man with the cunning and ambition to make it to the top of the military in a country he wasn’t even from; the man renowned for the unwavering cool of his gaze and the unfaltering loyalty of his troops; the man who led warriors with the tactical eye of a hunter and the tender palms of a father —
The General, who Tovania had cherished as if he were a close personal friend. The General, who would do anything for the former Queen, even after her death. The General, who had strongly implied he had a child who’d been murdered by her mother —
Don’t push your luck, Sapiele. Her mother’s voice had always rung in her ears. But Sapiele was done listening, once and for all. Wasn’t that the entire point of running away?
‘I can help you,’ she gasped, and the circuits in her brain clicked into place, whirred to life, blinked the lights on.
‘What in the ten lands of Aav could you offer me?’
‘I can bring her back,’ she said, bright-eyed, clutching the tome she’d risked it all for. ‘I can bring back the old Queen.’
For not the first time, Sapiele was beginning to consider that she had a lot further to go.
