A Blood of Arlathan Fic
Starring:
@lunammoon Ezra Mustermann and ???
@so--whoonos Nyxsiris
With Cameos From:
@teamtakagi Jerran
@aislingavry Naina
@elfmaid Kalais
@wickedadaar Del and Beck
Banner by @so--whoonos
Ezra had a job with the Mourn Watch. And, at least officially, that had been the reason they had joined the Veilguard.
There would be blood mages and blood magic and spirits and there was a base within the fade. So of course a Tie Breaker would be needed. If nothing else, to keep the spirits from being bound against them.
In truth, that had simply been what they presented to the Watch as a reason.
It wasnât a lie, but the truth was that Nyx was going and Ezra didnât want to be left behind.
Their official role had only come up a handful of times. Now was one of them.
Dalish were missing- taken by Venatori. People were in danger. Evanuris would be there and NYX was going. And if Nyx was going into danger, Ezra couldnât stay in the lighthouse.
Nyx and Ezra had hiked in with the Dalish, following along with the path of the inner circle as they took their disguises into the thick of the Venatori present.Â
The plan is simple enough because of the many moving parts; find the captured elves, release them, get out. Ezraâs skills were needed. Ward work and breaking blood binding was what they were best at, and Nyx knew they could keep Ezra safe, and all the captives they freed.Â
Ezra isnât passively sensitive to blood magic. That was the sort of thing that got Tie Breaker training halted and the mage redirected into some other form of spirit magic.
It was a useful skill until it wasnât and there was too much blood magic around at once and over stimulation caused mistakes. Sensitivity to blood magic was excellent unless it couldnât be turned off, in which case it was a potential liability.
Even so- even without speaking it out- they could sense it. Potential and spilt blood something thrumming from somewhere.
Elgar'nan is not supposed to be here, none of the reports mentioned the possibility of him showing up beyond the always looming threat of him being awake again. They knew that at any time he could, that was why they had the wards, but now the dreadful possibility was right in front of them.Â
Nyx stops breathing , and again, just like before, the darkness curls in on the edges of their vision, but they hold it off. He doesn't know they are there, they could still help, and they should still help. There is no reason that him being here should stop them.
They are always a little bit aware of split blood, in the same way a warrior might recognize the light glinting off a blade. There is so so much of it. And in the distance, and they could taste the spirits malicious and not pressing against the veil. Compassion and Despair and Valor and Fear and Courage and Bloodlust and Wisdom and Rage.
They weigh their risks and pull out all the stops of their spirit, so much stranger than it had ever been. Their tethers and wards have only strengthened over time and give feedback. They glow distinctly even in the light of the day, a full set of wings and eyes. Their own eyes are pupil less, so they could see through all their eyes at once.
As they move through the forest looking for those liberated and taking out any venatori they found. They can feel as they draw near Elgar'nan and they know He could feel them as well. They try to be careful, but they know he will try to take them. They have faith that Ezra's wards will give Elgar'nan a run for his money.
âAh, little Protection, youâve come crawling back to me. You see now the error of your old choice to leave me. What a perfect time for you to reunite with me in the hour of reclamation of my glory.â They feel Elgar'nanâs grip around them, the red swirling of his magic pulling them closer.
They plant their feet and resist. âNever, I left you and I refuse to join your cruelty again. I am not yours.â Elgar'nan growls in frustration when he can't force them, and as predictable as ever, he tries to bend them to his will trying to use his magic to rebind them to him, and Ezra's wards flare.
The symbols Ezra had traced in ink and blood along Nyxâs skin begin to flicker and then spread. It is a maze with a prize at the center, with walls too high to climb and too low to dig and too strong to crack too fast for a path to be found.
The wards arenât unbreakable- but thatâs fine, because thereâs no such thing as an unbreakable ward, not really. But there are such a thing as strong wards, and such a thing as clever wards, and such a thing as tricky wards.
A strong ward would not be enough to hold back Elgarânan.
A clever ward might not be either- although it might last longer.
But a tricky ward?
Strength doesnât matter in a fight against an opponent you havenât noticed on the rooftop above you holding a brick.
Cleverness doesnât matter against someone whoâs openly cheating to an audience that doesnât care.
The magic creates a lattice of words and sigils and poetry and power that wind in and around each other in confusing twists and spirals. The beginning is hidden in the middle and the end is halfway between that and the start. It changes and how it changes and when is based on a pattern thatâs solvable yes- but not quickly.
It takes a long time changes too much for anything you learned from your failure to be useful if you tried again. Like trying to retrace your steps along the shore when the tides have risen and fallen again.
The wards are working. Theyâre working!
They struggle and the wards let them slip like water through Elgar'nanâs hands, but he keeps trying to catch them. They need to hide from him. They wrack their brain for how they escaped him the first time, and they remember only darkness.
Darkness! Thatâs what it was. It fills them with dread, they know the darkness and how it fills their lungs, but they know it will work, they are not night, but they are not as bright as the sun. They are the light in the dark, and they need that darkness again.
They pull on the shadows around them, between the leaves of trees, in the corners of the ruins. They let the darkness fill their lungs and their breath becomes labored, but they keep breathing and keep their eyes open. They look for their tethers, Vena, Kalais, Bug, Desi, Rook, Ezra. They are the brightest spots in their sight, but their sky is filled with many smaller lights, all the people they had met and formed connections with.
They reach toward them and out of Elgar'nanâs hands.
âEzra! They worked perfectly. I was able to get away.â They take the otherâs hand and move from where they were, not risking the possibility of lingering here. They know he will try again, it is just a matter of what.
They reach out for Ezra, needing that reassurance as they hadn't said anything yet, but they are looking beyond Nyx into the mid-distance and Nyx can feel the magic working on them.
An anger they rarely feel burns in their chest. They pull on Ezra's tether and increase their protection that they have given them. They imagine the breaking of threads around them.
They are in a palace. There is a warmth on their face. The sun? They thought it was the sun. They were surrounded by people who. Who- were they?
They were fairly certain that they knew or should know? The people looked like people. They had sockets with eyes and mouths with teeth and heads with hair, and markings on their faces that felt right.
They were people- even if Ezra couldnât quite identify them- even if they knew them. They had to know them? How else could they be there?
What Ezra was certain of was that they were safe. Not just Ezra themself, but these- people who had faces and yet- did not.
One of the figures meets Ezraâs eyes. They stand out more than the rest, even though their features are obscured. Their hair a flame and their eyes a glow. Their mouth is turned into a scowl and their glare burns more than the sun did- although it feels more real.Â
It stares at Ezra, and then it looks to the side. Ezra follows its gaze.
There is a figure more clear that the rest. They stand away from the crowd. Ezra hadnât recognized them at first, or but perhaps they had just arrived? A Protection Spirit! The figure had grey hair shining branch like groves on their face. Their eyes were like glass and their smile painted on. They looked almost doll-like.
That's Nyx. Why would Nyx look that way? Why would they-
And they were safe, because of the light of the Sun shining on Ezra and through Ezra and no one could hurt them- any of them. And all they had to do was to embrace the Sun back and-
This- wasnât a thought of their own. None of this was. Because whomever had created this version, did not know what Nyx look liked happy.Â
Ezra looked out into the indistinct crowd. Were any of these people happy? With their glassy eyes and painted smiles?
None of them were. Because none of this was real. Except-
They look out into the crowd, and bit into the meat of their palm, clenching a bloodied fist, and yanked-Â as if pulling aside an invisible curtain.
They are on a cliffside- a place they werenât quite sure how they left and knew they never had. Immediately they turned to Nyx. Their runes flashed and burned like embers waiting for a simple gust of air.
They squeezed their staff with their bloodied hands, the white wood remaining just as white as it always was.
 They gently cupped Nyxâs cheek, and waited for them to return from wherever they were.
âHere/Helper/Hereâ
The Glorious Sun has important plans today, so they must be completely vigilant. The people that the Sun had gathered were large in number and not good at waiting. They had caused a disturbance already with an animal of some kind. Protection hated when innocent creatures got in the path of the Sun's glory.Â
âSee, aren't you so glad that you returned to me Protection? I can keep you away from the riff raff. You will be witness to the coming of my new kingdom.â Nyx was very used to how Elgar'nan talked, it was irritating to say the least. They much preferred⌠someone else. They blinked, trying to recall the face they were thinking of, gray like their own hair and purple. Helper.Â
But they don't know a helper spirit, do they?Â
They try to remember how they got here. They had left Elgar'nan, so why did they return?
âProtection! What ARE you doing? I need you here and at your best.âÂ
They blink and nod looking back to the Sun. âOf course, my apologies.â but they still can't shake the nagging feeling that they need to look for this Helper.Â
They look past Elgar'nan to try and find them. They felt in their spirit that they needed to find them, something was tugging on them. Something pulled at their chest. They turn away from Elgar'nan again, searching the faces to find the one they need, following the tug in their chest. Their feet are moving before they think. They see them, their friend, Helper. âEzra!â
The magic breaks around them both, their connection to each other prevailing over anything that Elgar'nan tried to ply them with. Nyx wonders what pulled Elgar'nanâs attention away from them, likely whatever the inner circle is doing, so they should get moving. They lock eyes with Ezra and they don't need words to both get moving to help the captives.
There are cages, full of terrified people with Venatori standing outside of them that are, in Ezraâs opinion, not terrified enough.
They can fix both of those things.
Ezra runs towards the first one, quick, efficient. Their staff clenched tightly and their fingers splayed as sickly green melts the first guard from the inside and their lightning took out the second.
They knew they could trust Nyx to watch them as their magic ripped apart the threads holding the cage door closed. They almost burn under their finger tips. They felt- something- and they turned to find a Venatori too close to them and rushed forward. Their palm, cracking with lightning, slams into his chest and they are sent to the ground, twitching lifelessly.
They notice Jerran, dressed in his old mercenary garb. He makes eye contact with them, and then his dagger is in the chest of a man standing next to him, dressed similarly. And so Ezra works on freeing the Dalish trapped inside.
There are so many people here. They donât recognize any of them, and they wish that they did. Just enough so that they could know who to look for and who to ask about. There are Dalish elves in the Veilguard. They seem to know what to do, so Ezra focuses on what they know. Their fingers picking apart arcane locks with ease. They feel like they should be bleeding, but they know thatâs just in their head. Shaza and her son look different- and itâs perhaps the magic of this place getting to their head. But they help guide the people to safety.
Their eyes catch that of a woman. The left side of her face is covered in blue ink, save for the negative space in the shape of twisting vines thatâs mirrored on her left. They do not envy her. She looks away from Ezra, her head lowered. Ezraâs smile is as soft for her as it always is.They rub their own face in sympathy. In another life, they could easily see themselves as having donned FalonâDin or perhaps Juneâs vallaslin, and the idea is-
Theyâd have scraped their skin raw.a
They nod towards the where the other members of the Veilguard are waiting to bring the newly freed to safety. That woman, they point in the direction of Naina. The white haired woman should be able to give her the guidance and help sheâll need.
Thatâs the nice thing about Veilguard. Everyone has a part to play, a piece to fill. And if everyone does what they know, then thereâs nothing left to be done.
They take up their bow and cover Ezra as they work. They feel each breaking of the seals and bindings like small pops of energy released. They fire as fast as they can, most of the venatori coming for them only need one shot to take down, but they start to overwhelm with numbers alone. They see some slipping through and getting closer. The crack of lightning is familiar and expected as Ezra drops one that was too close to them, and Nyx redoubles their efforts.Â
They see as allies start to join, more arrows join their own; more pops of energy as bindings break; the sound of metal clashing on metal. Truly there are so many venatori here.Â
They free the last of the captives and they start to move to retreat.
There is a calm, in which thereâs no one left to fight and no adrenaline rushing through their veins and nothing to siphon from and then thatâs when it happens.
It was the wetness theyâd felt first. A damp that brought with it a chill on their borrowed disguise. The stinging came next, and then, an understanding as they stared at the red on their fingertips.Â
Their side was very very wet with something that felt like potential.
Blood. Itâs not one of the Venatoriâs nor one of the Dalish. And thereâs a lot of it.
 They caught Nyxâs eyes, and put a hand not holding their side on their shoulder.
âHelp.â They uttered, as their vision went strange, as their knees simply gave up carrying them, and they collapsed into the spirits waiting arms.Â
They fall into step next to Ezra, but it is different now with Nyx's new powers, they have more things to watch, more to take care of and more everything. They want to believe that is the reason they don't notice at first; the reason they don't notice really at all.
Only when they see Ezra, their hands holding in blood on their side, a small âHelpâ calling to them. It stops their breath. They move quickly to catch Ezra in their arms, holding them close. Arlathan Forest doesn't need or deserve to take Ezra's blood. They should not be another tally in the land's bloody history.
He looks at Protection and the mage who looks so much like her. Protection can see him now, and heâs aware of that. He holds out his hand and presses it to the mageâs wound in a way he can only manage with all of the anger and the injustice and the fear and the blood.
The air is filled with the smell of burnt flesh and blood as the wound is burnt shut and the mage hisses in pain, but cannot pull away.
He stares at Protection for a moment longer.Â
The Sunâs servant approaches and his head does not turn but he sees him, and the servantâs clothing ignites and him along with it.
They stare at the other spirit. He looks like Ezra, but not quite. They feel him burn Ezra's wound closed. Rage. He is a kind of rage. The Rage they felt before, an old rage. They are stuck for a second, remembering the Rage that hurt them and lead them to Ezra.
Burning flesh fills the air and brings them back to the here and now. The venatori are burning, this rage is with them. âYou've been with them, protecting them, helping them.â They see some of their family coming to them. âWe have to get them back to the lighthouse.â
Ezra's mouth fills with ash and that they are conscious enough to know it doesn't come from Nyx. They turn to see their own face, or- sort of their face? A younger face staring at them silently.
Gratitude/Appreciation/Thanks
They feel warm, but also cold as they see Beck and Kalais and Del approach.Â
They feel tired but they know it's not- true tiredness and that they cannot sleep here.
He nods to Protection and steps back to where he can be felt but not seen. Itâs easier this way. He would rather see than be seen.
He will follow the Protection Who Is Not His Servant and the Mage Who Is Not Her as he always has.
They Mage Who Is Not Her has Protection and does not need him now, but- he is, it is not that he is needed. It is that he wants-
There are still servants of the sun trying to follow their retreat. He witnesses them. He judges them. And they burn.
Commision for wonderful @so--whoonosđđđ Many kisses and hugs for you!
If you want a commission too, please stay tuned! I am going to post prices soon and here is a link to my boosty: https://boosty.to/hedgiestail
There, I will be posting sketches and commissions with time-lapses. I will also be happy to post other content upon request!
There alway ends up being silly and sweet. It always gets me a little tearful.
âLucas!â
âNo, No, No.â
âYou canât say no to this Lucas!â
âIâm saying it right now, Callum!â Lucas looked back at his brother, âNo!â
âItâs just for a little, please just let me help you.â Callum gave Lucas pleading eyes, âYou broke your bone. What can you do with one arm. So use mine! Now youâve got three!â
Lucas let out a grumble looking up at Callum then sighed, âFine. Helping but if you get in my way Iâm kicking you out.â
Callum pat Lucas âalrightâ shoulder, âIâve got you bro!â
âDonât touch my kitchen though.â
âBut Iâm not Bruno.â Callum pouted.
Lucas looked over to Callum, âdonât touch my kitchen.â He sat down on his couch, his head leaving back against the couch, âdamn. Iâm tired.â
âYou know you donât have to do things on your own right?â Callum sat next to Lucas looking over at him
âYou know Iâm stubborn right?â
âI donât know, I think youâve mellowed out. Think that crow youâre so fond of helped you do that. You actually told me yes. Didnât just grunt and walk away.â
âIf I did youâd still follow. But yeah. They have.â Lucas nodded and looked over to Callum, âTook them to moms grave. Figured mom would like that.â
âThatâsâŚhuge Lucas. Youâre really serious.â Callum looked down at his hand in his lap, âThey mean this much to you, will we get to meet them?â
âI- donât know. Itâs complicated. How they feel about all of this.â Lucas shrugged, âTalk of marriage and stuff like that freak them out. But now we live together in Treviso. And I am content with things as they are. I just donât think they are ready for something like that. And maybe they never will be. Iâm content as things are.â
âAre you really? Okay with it I mean?â Callum looked over at Lucas all worried
âMore than anything, I just want to be with them.â
âIf that makes you happy then I support you. Especially with how far youâve come. You know Iâm proud of you right?â He looked over at his older brother and smiled then looked back down at his pants. âI think mom would be too.â
Lucas closed his eyes for a moment, âYeah? I think so too. You know Iâm proud of you too? Youâre a better man then anyone Iâve ever known.â
Callum pulled lucas into a hug giving them a gentle squeeze
âyeah yeah donât get all sappy. If you cry Iâm kicking you out.â Lucas scoffed, but his words held no malice, âMom would be proud of us both.â
Using @larknnightingale open tag to do this for Nyxsiris đ
This is actually quite accurate. They aren't so much a daydreamer as Idealistic. They have lived a long life and don't need to daydream when they have seen most all life has to throw at them.
I was tagged by @lunammoon and very low pressure tags for @hedgiestail @sleepingtodream @jupi-tercreates @pandorazlost
Nyx is a spirit of Protection, and they are associated with a Luna moth. Which is seen in their original spirit form and in the ways that they can use their spirit power now that they have a body
Nyx's hair is actually clear like a polar bear and it's color is based on how happy they are and how much they are 'shining'
Despite the Watchers being very academic, Nyx is not good at Math, and struggles with reading similar to having dyslexia. They are bad at math because there is a codex explains how Spirits don't have a good grasp on math and numbers.
Nyx has read every poetry book in the Necropolis, and they also write their own poetry.
Their name means Light in the Dark. Many of the older spirits of the Necropolis like Curio and Keepsake know them by that name and call them that more often then Nyxsiris.
A Double Dragons Story
Cowritten by @lunammoon and @so--whoonos
Banner by @so--whoonos
Featuring:
Ezra @lunammoon
Jay @so--whoonos
With Special Appearances from
Vena @wickedadaar
Tarian @teamtakagi
Kalais A. @elfmaid
Lady Victoria Pendragon @hedgiestail
Ezra had been desperate for some kind of distraction when theyâd returned from the Necropolis with Victoria by their side having learned that the section of the Necropolis that held their parents was gone. As they walked, they had been hoping for some kind of dispute in need of mediation, perhaps an overly excited wisp.
The dragon that had attacked Treviso attacking the Hossberg Wetlands was not a possibility that they had considered.
Not everyone goes, but most do. The Wardens go without a question. These are blighted dragons after all, and along with the dragons, were darkspawn.
They were called to fight. The blighted dragon commanded by Ghilan'nain was found and the wardens were coaxing it out to kill it. There was going to be a hoard of darkspawn with it, and back up was needed. Nyx chooses to go with Kalais and Vena and they find Ezra too, on their way back from the Necropolis.Â
Over the months their small family has grown, expanding from the duo they used to be, into a family that can all rely on each other. Nyx knows that with them all together they can be a help to the wardens, and get assigned to hold the exit route.
Darkspawn were a bit like rowdy undead, except, the rowdy undead were vulnerable to things like rot and entropy.
Darkspawn hated fire more than anything. Fire was unfortunately, not an elemental force that came easily to Ezra- or if they were honest, at all. Theyâd have to make do with lightning.
Necrotic magic came easily. It came easy to most crypt children. Even the non-mages were able to call on it a little bit. It was like having an extra limb.
Using lightning was like breathing. As effortless as a beating, healthy heart but it wasnât as good as fire, but as Ezra demonstrated, it wasnât nothing.
Lightning sparks from their fingers, a jaunty dance that twirled from them to darkspawn in a crash of lightning and thunder. Their mouth was filled with apple and sage. Nyx had stayed close by.
âRightâ
A well honed reflex. Ezra waves a hand. A spark crashes into an arrow from Nyxâs bow and the arrow goes through one darkspawn and into three more.
For the most part after that, they wait for Nyx to call them, and when they donât they pick off stragglers. The wardens made it quite clear that no one was to go off alone.
A shout from a familiar voice calls out for them to duck. Ezra dropped as a plume of fire burst from Kalaisâs staff, and slammed into a group of darkspawn that had somehow managed to silently sneak behind them.
âThank you!â They call back, before letting loose another volley.
The group of them work well together. Venaâs own spirit form is a bright light in Nyx's vision. She is a menace and a powerful threat against the darkspawn. Her fire burns them quickly and they can see how her Destructive spirit was working to her advantage. Nyxsirisâ calm stands in opposition to their desperation of Weisshaupt. They can be Protection for their family, as their family is protection for each other.Â
The area they are fighting in is not ideal for an archer, but Nyxsiris is not an ordinary archer anymore. They now have full control of their spirit form and the powers they have from it. Their fighting has adapted to their 360 degree vision and they now use spectral arrows that always hit their mark. Even with these changes, the way they fight alongside Ezra is as fluid as breathing.Â
Even though their necrotic arrows are not as effective, Nyx is able to keep a barrier around all of them. They rely on their family and trust them, moving in tandem together. Ducking when Kalais calls out, pushing the darkspawn back into Venaâs path of fire, their arrows carry Ezra's lightning like a bolt through multiple darkspawn at once.
Ezra wasnât as nimble as theyâd like to be, not here. The swamp made their boots stick in places, and they had to take care to avoid the much and the mire.Â
Down below, Rook, and a few of their closer companions fight the dragon, and when the second one joins the first, are greatly assisted by the ballistas the Shadow Dragons and the Crows bring along, a thank you for the Veilguardâs assistance when the dragons attacked the first time.
That felt like so long ago.
The battlefield is loud and chaotic. In the distance, they spot a darkspawn hurling a spear of blighted wood at Gregory. Before Ezra can say a thing and warn him, the spear collides with his back and glances off of something-
Oh right. The runes.
Ezra hopes that the battle wonât lead to the rune binding tighter, but they are thankful that the man wasnât dead. Gregory staggers, and then swings his sword through a confused darkspawn, who seems baffled that his target wasnât skewered.
Ezra shouts to ask if the man is alright, but either due to the chaos of battle, or Gregoryâs focus, they donât get a response. A man who wasnât alright would probably be unable to move the way he was- nor hurl a shield like that.
Ezra blasts an approaching darkspawn with more violent lightning.Â
They knock back a lyrium vial, a rush of mana leaping through their veins, and then hurl a spike at a bubble of blight that was shot from somewhere, safely, before it could burst.
They move quickly to get out of the way of the explosion, and then their foot catches in soft earth and sends them sprawling.
They can feel their leg snap, and they bite back a his of pain as they drop their staff to grasp at it.
It is just a broken leg. A clean break. No bone pierced the skin, no risk of infection or blight. They were safe on that front.Â
Loud footsteps charge towards them. Ezra looked up to see an ogre charging at them. They frantically will their magic to heal themself faster. They are aware of the ogre getting closer and closer despite this.
They were big. Their horns especially so.
Ezra stared at it, their ears ringing.
Their leg clicks into place but they are aware that this doesnât mean much with what was likely about to happen.
Shame. Theyâve made a lot of friends, theyâll be awfully unhappy.
They hear someone scream their name, and then something crashes into them- and not the thing that they thought would. They are in too little pain for that, and too much pain to be dead or in shock.
A hand ran its way through their hair, and their ears still rung too much for words. A ball of fire from the sky crashed down on the ogre, followed by a dozen spectral arrows hitting the ogre, and their ears stopped ringing loud enough for them to recognize-
âLady Victoria?â The world returns into focus.
Somewhere in the distance, thereâs a bright white plume of fire that they can see in Victoriaâs eyes. It feels familiar? Desi? They think. It reminds them of Desi near their tree. But it's distant.
âAre you alright Ser Ezra?â
âI- I think you saved my life?â With Victoria looking at them, they canât not kiss her.
The snap of a bone, and Ezra is on the ground, with an ogre charging to hit them. Their shield flares, but it couldn't stop an ogre and they know it. For one heart stopping moment they think they are going to have to watch their closest friend and family die, but a blur of red and metal comes out of nowhere. Victoria. They crash on the ground safely together.Â
With Ezra safe, their full attention turns to the ogre that tried to take Ezra from them. They draw their full power, launching a full volley of arrows into the creature that tried to take their friend from them. A cold furry saved for the things that hurt their family comes to the surface.
They look up in time to see a giant arrow fly from a furious looking Nyx;âs bow and an ogre falling dead.
It occurs to them that in the event of their death, the letter Bug would give Nyx is outdated, and that that being their first thought is probably not a good thing.
They stand up, so that Lady Victoria is free to rejoin the fray, and Nyx wraps them in a gripping hug, and reassurances neither fadespeech or throatspeech are enough to calm them.Â
Nyx is their shadow after that. Not an unwelcome one. Every attack after that is in unison.
The fight that Rook had was grueling, two dragons at once. It was eased by the backing of the wardens, and they ballista from the crows and shadow dragons. After a drawn out fight, both of the dragons fall to the ground dead, and the wardens raise a short lived cheer.Â
The chaos is near an end, but Ghilan'nain screeches and tries to raise the dragons again. Rook makes a desperate attack with a ballista while she is working. The scream is heard across the field, and then a ripple in the fade slows everything to a crawl.Â
They don't know why they aren't affected, but silence falls and all of their eyes open. Nyxsiris can feel now the familiar spell work, they know who joins the frey now. They could never forget him. Elgar'nan is here.Â
They donât think he notices Nyx, but even now, after millenia, they are still exempted from his spellwork. His influence must still linger on them, years and millennia later, etched too deeply into their spirits to truly be removed. Just that thought has them feeling dirty, like they will never be rid of the scars Elgar'nan has left on them; like they will never be free of his leash.
Elgar'nanâ voice rings through the air âOne resists.â Just that small phrase has them terrified and unable to move. He must have spotted them. He must know Nyx is there. They react on instinct, needing to hide. They know one thing that got them out of his sight before and saved them all those years ago. They reach out and pull the darkness around them.Â
The feeling of liquid night curls across their skin and into their lungs. Itâs like being plunged into cold, still water. Their breathing becomes difficult, like pulling air through heavy layers of cloth. It cuts them off from everyone, not just Him. Their light slowly fades, the protection they gave their family ebbs away, retreating back into the night. Every one of their eyes slowly closes, winking out like a dying star.Â
They don't know how much time passes from Elgar'nanâs spell, from their panic, from cocooning themself in darkness. They only want to feel safe, but the darkness is not safe anymore. It is cold and empty, it cuts them off from the world like it did before. Falon'din isn't safe either, and his darkness only hurts more.
Safety is the clinking of metal artifacts, and excited explanations of magic;
Safety is the smell of drying flowers, and exuberant enthusiasm;
Safety is the heat of a fire, and a giggling laugh, and a dancing flame;
Safety is the twinkle of a crystal cavern, the smell of mint tea, and blankets wrapped around them.Â
Safety is their family.Â
Their tethers show up like small twinkles of light in their vision, like stars returning to the night sky. They reach out to them, the brightest connection. Their hand brushes warm skin and curly hair, a pointed ear. Ezra, they try to push the darkness away, to open their eyes again.
Something happens. Whatever it happened, had to have only taken a moment, it couldnât have taken longer than that. Itâs only been a moment, but something has in fact happened- Ezraâs just forgotten- or maybe they never remembered. But it happened.
They feel out of sync- but none of that matters because Nyxâs hand is on their face and the air tastes like ash and Ezra has never seen Nyx like this. The closest was when they first met and when Ezra was late but even then- nothing like this.Â
Their mouth is full of ash.
Over the years, Ezraâs come to terms with the fact that they are an angry person. Itâs less that they have a hair-trigger temper, and more- that the thing that triggers their temper is a key element of their job. They donât think theyâve ever felt rage like this. But they need to look calm and they need to smile and they need Nyx to feel safe even though they donât know how. Nyx is afraid and something needs to be destroyed but they donât know what and they think- itâs because of what it was that happened.
Nyx hadn't talked through combat, only short commands, but Ezra's presence and Nyx's hand on their face keeps them grounded enough to explain. They probably didn't even see Elgar'nan because of his magic.Â
Their voice is still choked from the feeling of darkness. âElgar'nan, he was here. I panicked. I hid. I didn't want him to see my light, but I think he did anyway.â Ezra knows better than anyone the terror Nyx is showing in their face. Ears pinned so far back they are flat against their skull, their hand is shaking where it grips their cheek, the color gone from their eyes and hair.Â
Ezra thinks that they could fight a man that calls itself a god. Perhaps the god would lose, but doubt they would win.
Rage alone is not enough. There would be no doubt if it was.
Ezra takes Nyxâs other hand and presses it to their vest and they breathe slowly and carefully and they rub the back of their friendâs hand.
âYouâre okay.â They say with their throat.
âSafe/Whole/Hereâ They say without it.
âI wonât let him touch you.â
Ezra knows far too much magic, dark and terrible to not use it if it meant keeping the Thing that frightened their friend so touch them. He would have to pry Nyxsiris away from their dry and empty corpse.
It wonât come to that.
As soon as they leave this place, they need to give Nyx the wards. They do no good to anyone in the notebook, bound and hidden in their room where the Sun cannot touch them. Nor does the bottle of ink just recently complete and ready to be activated.
Without the carefully written script, they could hold off Elgarânan for a few moments maybe, enough for Nyx to flee to the Grand Necropolis. Itâs a last resort- unreliable, and it would hurt Nyx and Victoria and Kalais and Desi and Lida and Vena and Bruno and Callum and the many many people that Ezra calls family- even if they still struggle to say it aloud.
So no, thatâs not an option- or at least, itâs not an acceptable plan A.Â
Thatâs why the wards exist in the first place. An acceptable plan, a good plan, they donât compare their wardcraft to others, because thatâs an easy way to get it broken. But they know that theyâre good at what they do- especially when it involves Nyx.
As they think about these things, they keep smiling. Nyx needs to see them smile. They know that they always keep a smile on their face and they donât want to make something seem wrong and their mouth is full of ash and they are so so angry. But Nyx is not Elgarânan and so Nyx does not need to see their rage.
The eyes in their face were looking back into Ezra's, but their eyes that float around them and can see the rest of the battlefield. Darkspawn are creeping closer to them. Ezra, Kalais, and Vena are all distracted by their panic, but Nyx can't let go to attack.Â
Motion and growling causes them to look away for the first time. Thereâs a darkspawn there, and itâs close to them- close to Nyx.
Itâs a creature controlled by the gods and itâs too close to Nyx and their family and their mouth fills with ash. They donât want to move from Nyxâs side- but they do. Theyâre willing- theyâd be willing to do anything to keep Nyx safe and whole, but before they can. The darkspawn begins to lift an axe and as they look, it begins to smoke and steam and burst into bright acrid smelling flames. They turn their head, and thereâs another one, too close to Victoria that burns as well, and another on near Kalais, and they can hear the sound of smoking flesh and smell smoke and their mouth is full of ash as more and more darkspawn begin to burn and smolder all around them. Their ears twitch at the noise and they wince at the smell and their mouth is still filled with the ever present taste of ash.
Itâs not Kalaisâs doing. And itâs not Desi either. Itâs not theirs, they donât think. Fire isnât in their skill set.
Itâs within a wide radius, and in the distance, more and more darkspawn smoke and burst into flames that quickly become cinders that smoulder in the wet earth.
Ezra looks and there is a rage, a rage that is familiar, but they have never felt so distinctly. The darkspawn goes up in flame, screaming. Ezra won't close their eyes, they look and they watch and they witness. Nyxsiris can feel the rage behind it, but it is not like the rage that hurt them so long ago it is justified, a different kind of rage, an old rage.Â
The false godâs puppets do not touch them. The ones that dare look burn as they are witnessed.
The hand on Ezra's cheek warms. Ezra looks like they have a fever, and Nyx can see as the darkspawn around them continue to go up in flames. Keeping the area around them clear as Ezra calms them down.Â
And then, thereâs cheering- the remaining darkspawn are dead and Ezra feels oddly cold. The taste of ash is there- but itâs not as strong as it was, they think theyâve calmed enough.Â
They need to return to the Lighthouse. They need to rest because they can no longer wait to protect their Light in the Dark the best that they can- and they donât think they can do that with shaking hands and tired eyes.
Their dearest friend deserves nothing less than perfection.
Rules: Create a bingo board using traits of your OC's type. Others can fill it in as their OC and see if they get a bingo. Comment on the post that you got a bingo (or didn't), or reblog with your completed bingo board added!
Notes: @so--whoonos let me use their de Riva for this little pep talk đ thank you!
Juan had been in the city less than a year before they mugged the wrong noble, got conscripted into the Crows, and washed out of the Circle after learning the bare basics. They only knew enough to keep their magic in check.Â
It was typical for Crows to be recruited at a young age. Most of them were elves while Humans tended to inherit the trade. Young bodies were easier to train and their minds easier to mold. Other than that, the young they called Fledglings were little different than any other group of children. They were still expected to socialize. To play.
Juan didnât. They had just gotten there and the Fledgleings had kept their distance. It was fine with them. They kept their back to the wall. They figured it was only a matter of time before they were sent off again. It would be a waste of energy to pretend that they were staying.
âRagazzino.â
The words still didnât quite ring quickly for them, even after their first year in the kingdom. It took another call before they turned. âJuan.â
âJuan,â an elf repeated the name with a nod. They were taller, older by a handful of years but still a Fledgling themself. There was a small smile. It was friendly, but not in a way that put Juan on edge like so many others. âNheil. Iâm with Viago too. Why arenât you with the others?â
A small shrug. âNo point. Iâll be leaving soon.â
âYou think so? Why?â They slid into an open spot on the wall next to the younger Fledgling.
Juan shot a defiant glare. âI set a fire.â
âToday?â The other elf asked, ignoring the hiss behind the words.Â
âNo, last week. That's why Iâm here.â
âOh that. I heard about that. Thatâs why you go to the Circle. You must have done something that Viago pulled you out.â
âI sabotaged the test. Also broke a bunch of stuff. I also said some things about the mages running the test. So, Iâll be gone soon.â
That was hard not to laugh at. âI see. Well, if you are, good luck out there. Youâll control it eventually.â They opened their hand, a small spark of lightning flickered over their palm before pulsing and arcing its way into a full orb. With a wave, it vanished. âWe all do.â
Juan watched with a bit of awe. âHow long did it take?â
âHard to say. It just started to work, eventually.âÂ
âMaybe.âÂ
âWeâre not enchanters, weâre Crows. You donât need fancy spells. You just need to not do things by accident. Then you get to stab people with magic,â they said, grinning.
Juan chuckled. âYeah. Okay. I can do that.âÂ
âOf course you can. And if you canât, knives still work.â
Rules: color all that applies to your OC and their vibes! Whichever section you get the most in is your OCâs archetype, although you can also add in whichever section you get second in to create a subclass of sorts! (Ex: the heroic maiden, the sagely monster, the outcast hero, etc!) Feel free to name it as you see fit, discuss your results, and add some vibe inspiration if youâd like! â¨
blank template here for all my fellow mobile users here or on @antivan-sprig âs tumblr
The Hero: 9
Impulsive action, Bravery in the face of fear, unwavering self-sacrifice, resilience, fighting for those who cannot, action before contemplation, revenge over absolution, my strength serves the virtuous, an oaken shield, the thrill of battle, glowing smile and freckled cheeks, glory and remembrance, arrogance, red blooded anger, a journey begins with one step, excitement over safety, rising after every fall, shooting from the hip, a knight in shining armor, a sapling which thrives despite the fierce wind, I will succeed or die trying.
The Juvelescent: 4
Blooming flowers, gentle sighs upon a loverâs chest, freshly gathered wildflowers, assumptions assumptions assumptions, twice bitten, bright eyes which so lovingly cut through you, isolation in a sea of admirers, long hair pulled back with a ribbon, soundless footsteps in the grass, naivety shifting towards corruption, my image is not my own and the distinction it lends is not mine either, the gold that stays, sneers and smiles, white cotton dresses in the rain, negations of culpability, a bird in a jeweled cage, a smile as a sword, flushed cheeks amid longing glances, a feast you must not partake in.
The Guardian: 5
Solid rock withstanding ocean waves, sentinel, a vibrant sun through rain clouds, protecting the threshold of glory, boastful smiles and gentle laughs, reluctantly passing the torch, leading through example, past splendor: never again felt but often remembered, the darkest memory is what could have been, the shine of glory never fades, goodness is worth protecting at any cost, sacrifice begets greatness, stories to legends to myth, delivering the final blow, practice makes perfect, the tallest and oldest tree in the forest.
The Creator: 6
Giving until threadbare, abundance and growth, I made the stars for you, gifts upon meeting, feasting but never satiated, an artistâs eyes lend tender brushstrokes, I will mold you how I see fit, freshly sprouted herbs, idealism and perfectionism, big bright smiles, making for the sake of making, self immolation, never forgive and never forget, a bountiful garden, birds which scatter seeds, these hands heal and hurt in equal measure, ask and you shall receive, necessity is the mother of invention.
The Monster: 3
You must not gaze upon me, bizarre and unexpected, hidden for your own good, driven on by an unstoppable force, rage and fear, earthquakes, carcass under the hot sun, the weathered oak withstands, overworked muscles, fierceness of spirit, the blight that poisons, my inhibitions died with my innocence, screaming into the wind, otherness, a fall from great heights, I donât even understand myself, power reveals all, the void stared back, existence is a perverse experience, blood runs hot, primal and feral joy.
The Outcast: 10
Always running, life is a series of fleeting joys, I wouldnât recognize myself, a rushing river obscured by mist, a whispered name, mercurial and capricious, your shadow your sole companion, last bloom of the season, individuality above acceptance, a pallid complexion, isolation and silence, wanting looks, one cannot be lost when they belong nowhere, here and there, hiding between shadows, nonconformity lends insight and perspective, my heart is mine alone, running against the wind, to be irreplaceable one must be different, a gaze which stirs indescribable feelings.
The Sage: 3
Tall green grass, parchment and ink, listen closely for I rarely repeat myself, freshly lit candles, an idol placed on a faraway shelf, knowledge is power, sparkling grey hair, owls, strength of spirit, to receive you must first give, a lonely mountain overlooking the valley, appraising glances, unnoticed subtlety, seldom found and often forgotten, aquiline noses, scrawled notes haphazardly stored away, knowing glances, piles upon piles of books, I am as profound as I am clever, curiosity killed the cat; satisfaction brought it back, furrowed brows.
