Because my flea-sized brain craves this shenanigans: I shall offer you one (1) Skanda.
I’m tempted to ship him with Elspeth, because 1) Elspeth is a Guardian, so that dynamic would be interesting, and 2) he’s just the sweetest young man, and poor Skanda could use someone like that in his life.
Additionally, I think that it would be interesting for Skanda to have to confront old Guardian instincts. Obviously, he had a very strong drive to protect; I’d imagine that hasn’t changed much, even as a Tundra. Opal is treated as a magical malady in my lore, and although Elspeth’s strain isn’t going to kill him, its high concentration is very much a disability of sorts. He struggles with fluid movement and chronic pain, to the point where he sometimes can hardly move at all.
It would be really cute to see Skanda doting on him whenever he has a bad day, as a sort of throwback to his previous life. Meanwhile, Elspeth is also trying to dote on him, despite being bedridden.
stares at the fake tree christmas tree half assembled in the living room of her nearly brand new home. one that had been built on top of the city that had been razed to the ground.
she’d gotten the base down and the first layer secured - by hand, the way her family always did, without the help of her wand - before wondering about lights and bulbs, and whether her mom had extras in the basement—
but there is no basement.
there’s no more mom either, her mind reminds her.
she wraps her arms around her knees and brings herself into a tiny ball of barely human on the carpet.
she’s gone through them all. twice. thrice. whatever the word for twenty-four times was too.
something more potent brewed in her gut. worse than denial anger and depression combined.
briefly she wondered, as she poked at the box of homemade ornaments that laid near her on the ground, how many people felt guilt, self-doubt and shame when someone they loved died.
four someones, even.
though numbers didn’t even matter anymore. they were only a handful out of hundreds.
hundreds and hundreds you couldn’t save, her mind helpfully supplies.
her hand pushed the box of bright globes away.
you don’t deserve color. you don’t deserve glitter.
not when the pleading, desperate sounds of “help help help” ran through her mind more than her own thoughts.
she shakes her head, and rises on unsteady legs. tosses the pieces of the christmas tree back into its box with wobbly arms and shoves it back under the stairs along with the rest of the ornaments.
she pushes it out of her mind. pads over to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, though more sleeping tonic than water.
on the couch, she’s nearly sleeping, when she stands to go to her room.
her toe catches a box under the coffee table. one she’s missed when packing away the christmas decorations that were never to be used.
the small box is new, unopened, and she wonders what’s inside.
it takes her a moment to pick apart the tape on the box with her nail to get it open, and shuffles the ornament out its carefully wrapped tissue.
baby’s first christmas.
she throws it against the wall and it breaks with a clatter that sounds more like her heart bursting into a million pieces rather than pale porcelain.
It was a club, though none of them would ever admit it. Calling it a club seemed too childish--but it was by no means official, so it couldn’t be an organization or an association either. The hard truth was that they had all gotten together, a group of four grown drakes with adult responsibilities, and started a club.
Of them, Jorah seemed the least perturbed by this fact; he was rarely perturbed by anything, though, so no one was surprised when, on their first meeting, he came out and said what they had all been thinking: “Aren’t clubs for little kids?”
Xerxes gave a weak smile. Emir shifted uncomfortably. Elspeth toyed with the hem of his robes. “Yes,” he conceded quietly, “I suppose they are.”
“I think it’s important,” Xerxes insisted, “that we all come together and support one another. Whatever you want to call this gathering, it’s a good thing; that should be enough.”
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Emir mumbled, “but you’re right. It’s nice to spend time with dragons who understand what I’m going through.”
“Oh yes!” Elspeth was quick to agree. “I do think it’s a really great idea, Xerxes!”
Xerxes’ cheeks flushed. Now he really did feel silly, sitting in his den with three dragons he hardly knew at all and hoping to somehow enrich their lives. Maybe he was being too presumptuous; maybe he was the only one who ever felt lonely, even though he had Lamium to comfort him. He had always been a bit of a baby after all.
A hand alighted on his knee. He looked up; Jorah was staring at him intensely. “Clubs are for little kids,” he said, “usually.”
“Th...” Xerxes smiled brightly. “Thanks.”
“I know how we can start off!” Elspeth scooted forward and rolled up his sleeves. His Opal, like Jorah’s, was multicolored, fading from a pale mauve to a deep, almost mesmerizing teal. It covered much of his arms, so much of them that Xerxes wondered how he could even move them. “We can share our abilities!” he suggested. “That’ll break the ice a bit!”
“I’m still figuring mine out,” Emir said, looking slightly sheepish, “but I think my Opal is catalytic. If that’s the case, I guess its ability is, uh, well, making my sister’s magic even more powerful.”
“You’re powerful enough, Emir!” Elspeth teased.
“You can never be ‘powerful enough’ to defeat the Shade!”
“As for me,” Jorah said, “you already know. It helps me regulate my magic.”
“Mine is used for Seeing,” said Elspeth. “I can read your futures, if you’d like! I bet you’ll all have good love lives! That’s just the feeling I get!”
“No fair...” Xerxes sighed and leaned back, his face tilted toward the ceiling in a long, miserable groan. “You guys all have useful strains,” he whined. “Mine is just another magical mishap waiting to happen. Crucis said most of the electricity has been dispersed by now, but when you collect it from the environment without even meaning to, that’s no guarantee.”
“It might save your life one day,” Elspeth soothed, and patted Xerxes’ shoulder reassuringly. “You just need to learn how to work with it, Xerxes. You could be a wonderful lightning mage. With Feldspar moving into the modern world, we could use all the electricity we can get.”
“It would be nice,” Xerxes mumbled, “to have a real job. I can’t really do much because of my disability, but if it was just powering machines--that’s stationary work, isn’t it?”
“Yeah!” Emir said. “You’d be perfect for that!”
“Guys.”
The group turned as one to face Jorah. His expression was as even as ever, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. “What kind of Opal does Father Banquo have?”
“Are you crazy?!”
“Why would you ask that?!”
“Don’t even speak his name!”
Without another word, Jorah stood. “Where are you going?” Elspeth asked.
“To find out what Father Banquo’s Opal does,” Jorah replied simply. “You guys coming or not?”
In the end, and despite their protestations, Xerxes, Elspeth, and Emir accompanied Jorah on his quest. They stuck close together, Elspeth and Emil huddled around Xerxes’ wheelchair as if it might somehow protect them, but Jorah strode boldly through the streets. There was not a dragon in Feldspar he feared, least of all some dried-up cultist.
They found their mark chatting with Father Wolf, who brightened noticeably at their arrival. Father Wolf was known throughout the territories as a genial drake, but Father Banquo appeared to be a bit much, even for his kind heart.
“Hello boys,” he said, “what brings you out and about?”
“We were just, uh...” Xerxes looked to Elspeth. Elspeth looked to Emir. Emir looked back to Xerxes. “Well, you see, Jorah was curious about something, and we thought--”
“What kind of Opal do you have?” Jorah asked.
Father Wolf cleared his throat in a way that suggested he’d choked on his own surprise. “Jorah,” he said softly, “I don’t believe that question is, er, entirely appropriate.”
“It’s all right.” Father Banquo was smiling, but none of them felt reassured by it. Emir, perhaps being the braver of them, stepped in front of Xerxes. “It isn’t something I discuss often,” Father Banquo went on, “but Opal being what it is, I’ve been asked by far more offensive drakes than young Jorah here.”
“W-we’re very sorry,” Elspeth stammered. “It’s just--we were talking about our own strains, and--and one thing led to another--”
“No apologies are necessary,” Father Banquo assured. “If you really must know...” Before Jorah could react, Father Banquo had reached out, and laid a hand upon his shoulder. “Anyone I touch will become terribly ill. It won’t kill you, but you’ll be miserable for a week or two.”
For the first time, Jorah looked unsettled. He stumbled backward, clutching at his shoulder, his eyes wide with uncertainty. It was impossible to tell if Father Banquo was lying; his expression had not changed, not even the slightest bit, and so he was either a very good actor, or...
Needless to say, his confession sent the group scurrying for Dreamweaver. Father Wolf remained frozen at his contemporary’s side. “You...” He pursed his lips. “You weren’t serious, were you?”
Father Banquo chuckled. “Of course not,” he said, “but children these days will believe anything.”
I saw folks doing Guardian Charge lore in the tag, so--
Levi: the Oculus (seeing stone) he wears around his neck. It was viewed as sacred among his people, but given to him by the clan elder to watch over once it became apparent that it was his Charge.
Elspeth: his customers’ love lives. Understandably, this makes him a diligent and attentive matchmaker.
Priyanka: Abaddon and Shard Junior. She became a Guardian specifically in the hope that they would be her Charges.
Dust: his hoard of garbage. His Charge is unique, in that it is not a single individual or item, but a growing collection. Any garbage that he claims as his own becomes a part of his Charge.
Tawny: his forge. He built it with his own two hands after his move into Feldspar territory, and found that he had accidentally created his own Charge.
Argus: Mergo. No one but himself is aware of his Charge’s identity, as he has been too ashamed to admit that he allowed harm to befall his Charge while serving the nightmare.
Mímir: unknown. Unlike most Guardians, who seek their Charges zealously, Mímir appears to have no interest in being united with his Charge.
I recently expanded my lair, so here are my two new boys!
Reign doesn’t have lore yet; all I know about him is that he is extremely GOFFIK. He probably drinks his coffee black and straight out of the pot. (Lore suggestions are totally welcome!)
Elspeth is our new matchmaker. Unlike Priyanka, whose Sight is fairly limited, or Orpheus, whose Sight pertains only to disaster, Elspeth is a fully fledged seer--but employs his Sight only sparingly and for specific purposes by choice. His medium is his Opal, which he uses in a variety of ways to glimpse into the futures of others and offer them romantic advice based on what he sees. His charges are his customers’ love lives, so he is particularly diligent in his work.
