yo , hol' up . is sycamore's ancestor a part of one of the villain teams?
also, i want elyna & laurel's genders .
Sycamore (not to be confused with her descendant, Professor Augustine Sycamore) is Elyna’s assistant who is usually found lazing about the main office, doing the bare minimum required for her job.
She definitely isn’t trying to resurrect Zygarde in an attempt to capture and control it. Certainly not. Who would even suggest that?
This is another test for a new art style and imma be honest DYUM this brush so fun to draw with jdkwjejeBtw this was just a random sketch and surprisingly from no where turned into a fully drawing 😩✨️✨️
Here’s the latest itterations of my Neylope test tube baby Malti and Snap’s Sly + Neyla test tube baby! They both needed re draws as i’ve improved since last lmao.
This was, technically, Elyna’s second ever Día de Muertos.
That first autumn had bled into winter in a blur. Things in the house had been hectic, and tense. Understandably tense. Justifiably tense. Even without the exceptional circumstances, the ghost of a murderer hanging over this lovely home, it was easy for traditions to slide a little. It had taken a lot of careful effort to “adopt” her.
Oops. She was doing it again. The thing her therapist had pointed out where she didn’t classify the things that happened to her as real, because she didn’t see herself as real, but everything she felt was more than real so it only made sense to drop that habit and accept herself.
It had taken a lot of effort to adopt her. Yes.
That was what had happened. About fourteen months ago, this family, this wry and well-liked pillar of the local community, had revealed that they actually had a second daughter. Older and taller and much more purple than the pre-existing daughter. And they included her in everything. Last night, she had shared a wonderful Hallowe’en with them.
And now it was November 1st. From one holiday right into another.
Sly wasn’t a particularly spiritual man, despite - because of? - all the actual, literal undead creatures he had battled in his youth. He loved a good excuse to celebrate, though. As well as the big, basically secular holidays, he was happy to join his wife in her own traditions. The Montoyas and the Foxes were spread across pretty much the entire Spanish-speaking world and beyond, and at this point Carmelita essentially just picked her favourites. Factoring in all the globe-trotting they had both done, separately and together, the household’s annual calendar was… interestingly blended.
So, an archetypal Hallowe’en was always followed by a traditional Día de Muertos. It wasn’t a total shift in tone - it was important to remember the deceased with love and good humour, something this household could produce in industrial quantities - but there was a certain reverence to proceedings that was noticeably absent on the preceding night of pumpkins and candy and horror films.
Carmelita took this fairly seriously. That was why Elyna was dreading it.
Sly had stepped out, taking B with him. An annual raid for clearance candy. A shared activity Elyna preferred them to keep for themselves. This was her best shot. She had no idea how she was going to get through this conversation, even removing the possibility of her father bursting in with a poorly-timed joke.
‘Her father’. She reflected on those words as she stalked towards the living room. Sly Cooper was the source of half her genetics. The necessary ingredient that made her a test-tube baby instead of an unfeasible clone. And despite a… tense first meeting, she hadn’t had much difficulty accepting the fact he was her father. It was exactly that. A fact. His overtures of friendliness, everything he did to make her feel welcome, came with a solid, scientific basis.
His wife, though…
Elyna let herself into the living room. It already looked so different from the makeshift movie theatre it had been last night. This was a small town, with an almost suspiciously low crime rate. There wasn’t that much work even for the Chief of Police, and that leftover energy meant quick and efficient decorating and undecorating and redecorating.
The only survivors were the skeletons, grinning and painted, specific to Día de Muertos but certainly not out of place last night. But the pumpkins and cobwebs and big orange candles were gone. The back wall had been cleared, making space for several beautiful ofrendas.
Elyna’s eye lingered on one corner, distinct from what was otherwise a sea of severe foxes. A photograph was the focal point, per tradition. It depicted two raccoons. One had black hair and sharp, intelligent eyes - still noticeably green in the otherwise faded colour palette. She was giving the camera a quiet smirk. The other was only identifiable as a raccoon by the hint of his striped tail sneaking up through the bottom of the frame. His arm was lovingly around the woman’s shoulders, but his face was totally obscured.
Every year, Carmelita asked if Sly seriously didn’t have a better photo of his father, and every year, Sly would make a fresh joke about the man’s lifelong animosity with cameras. Just another tradition. Another ritual, part of the smooth running of the holiday.
“Your grandparents.”
Carmelita was adjusting a small figurine of an acoustic guitar with pinpoint precision, getting it in exactly the right spot relative to a smiling ancestor. But she had heard Elyna come in, and knew where those hazel eyes were focused.
“Conner Cooper, and his wife Beatrice,” she continued. “B is named after both of her grandmothers, actually. It’s made easier by the fact Sly’s mother preferred to be called Trixie.”
Elyna took another look at the bulk of the ofrendas, remembering her sister’s full name. “But, um, Zoe’s not up here, right?”
Carmelita smiled to herself. “Not yet she isn’t. Or my father. Too stubborn. At this rate, they might both outlast you.”
It was a harmless joke. One Elyna had to stop herself from hearing as a threat.
Carmelita straightened up, turning thoughtful. “We’re overdue for a visit,” she said. “I thought we had introduced you, but apparently not.”
These sorts of forgetful exchanges were becoming rarer. Elyna fiddled with a stand of her black hair - she was growing it out, and still getting used to it, and didn’t need distractions right now. Didn’t need to think about how she never met her father’s wife’s parents. Her step-mother’s parents. Her step-grandparents.
This was her chance. Her best shot. She should just follow her training and seize the moment. Without fear.
“I have a question,” she mumbled. “About this, I mean.”
“Oh?”
“I, uh,” said Elyna, “have no idea whether I should put up a picture of my mom.”
The living room went silent.
Silence was one of the reactions Elyna had been expecting, and it was honestly one of the better ones. But that didn’t make it comfortable. “It’s just,” she attempted, “it’s kinda unclear to me if it’s all your family, or just the ones you…”
“The belief,” said Carmelita, crisply, “is that by setting up an ofrenda you’re inviting that person’s spirit into your home.”
“Right.”
“So you do it for people you want in your home.”
“Right,” said Elyna again, quieter.
A few moments passed. And then Carmelita sighed. Her posture, which had become rigid, uncoiled a little. “There’s no one answer,” she said, more diplomatically. “The spirit of the holiday is remembering the togetherness of family. But we both know that’s how things should be, not how they always are. Not everyone is so lucky.”
“I’m sorry.” Elyna was back to fiddling with her hair. “I know it’s a stupid question.”
“Not at all. I’ve always held there’s no such thing as a stupid question.” She put on an expression of exaggerated tiredness. “Or at least I used to say that, before moving in with your father…”
Elyna chuckled at that, and Carmelita smiled. That was always Sly’s strategy for smoothing a bumpy discussion - knowing when to include a soft joke. Carmelita had gotten better at it herself over the years.
“Has this been worrying you for long?”
“It’s kind of been in my head on and off for the past month. Sorry for only bringing it up now. And sorry for…” Elyna sighed. “I shouldn’t even be asking you about this. I know how much Mo- …how much Neyla hurt you both. Obviously you don’t want a picture of her in your living room.”
“The question,” said Carmelita softly, “is do you?”
Said question hung in the air for a few moments, unanswered. Carmelita intently watched the teenage girl in front of her. She looked so much like Neyla. But standing there, her paws awkwardly clasped, her gaze nervously on the floor, she couldn’t be more different.
“Do you know the origins of this holiday?”
Elyna managed to tear her eyes off the carpet, watching Carmelita carefully.
“It’s pre-Columbian,” she explained. “The practice of honouring the dead is rooted in the ancient cultures of Mexico. It was an important part of life for the people who lived there long before the Europeans came. The modern version we celebrate today is a mixture of those original practices with a Catholic influence. That’s why it’s held on this date, for instance - to sync up with the church calendar. I think it’s important to remember it’s a blend.”
Elyna’s ear flicked. “A ‘blend’? That’s a pretty nice way of putting it. I’m no historian, but Hernán Cortés didn’t just step off his boat and ask everyone to play nice, did he?”
“No,” said Carmelita quietly.
“It’s not a blend. A blend would be if the Europeans and the natives set out to make something nice together. This is some kind of Frankenstein monster made when one group was just minding their own business and someone else came up behind them and-”
It was Elyna’s turn to fall silent.
“Oh,” she said.
Her face scrunched up a little, and Carmelita sighed. “That’s… not what I meant. Or at least not exactly.”
“You only kind of meant to call me a Frankenstein, got it,” muttered Elyna, who was, fantastical circumstances or not, still a teenage girl.
“I didn’t call you anything.” Carmelita’s voice was steady. Not sharp, but steely, leaving no room for argument. She hadn’t thought much about motherhood earlier in her life, but she had always been able to keep a firm grip on an unpleasant discussion, and that was one of the fundamental requirements. “Try not to assume the worst of what I’m saying.”
Elyna stayed quiet.
“But… yes. I suppose it might be an applicable metaphor. You’ve got two sides to you, too. You’re Neyla’s, and you’re Sly’s. You’re the result of some cruel revenge scheme, and you’re a person with your own desires. Who you are now is a product of both.”
“That’s… yeah.” Elyna rubbed her arm sheepishly. “That’s pretty much what’s been eating at me. Neyla was an objectively bad person. And like, I never even met her, so it’s not like I’m attached. Or at least I shouldn’t be attached…”
Not for the first time, Carmelita privately despaired at the uncertainty in the girl’s tone. That therapist had a lot to work through.
“…but the fact is, I wouldn’t exist without her. At all. And that’s… It’s just weird.” She paused. “Yeah.”
“And now all those confusing feelings have a physical problem. Whether or not to put up her picture.”
“Yeah…”
“I’m not being flippant when I say I don’t know what to tell you,” said Carmelita. “Not everyone in my family tree was a saint. No-one can claim that. But as far as I know, we never had a Neyla.”
“As far as you know,” echoed Elyna. “That sounds like the answer, then. Monsters get written out of the family history.”
“They don’t get invited to parties, at least,” she replied. “Which, like I said, is the spirit. It’s keeping your family close, because you never want to forget their warmth.”
Elyna resisted the urge to scoff. Purely for Carmelita’s benefit - it wasn’t directed at her. ‘Remembering warmth’. There wasn’t any warmth to remember when it came to Neyla. To the brisk, clipped instructions Elyna had been left in lieu of a childhood.
She felt the decision click into place.
“Let’s not do it.”
Carmelita, to her credit, kept her reaction diplomatic. “You’ve decided?”
“Yeah. If the point is remembering the good times, well… A photograph of Neyla is just a waste of space.”
In other circumstances, Carmelita would have shown more enthusiasm for an insult that harsh, that confidently delivered. But she knew to tread relatively lightly, so she just offered Elyna a smile. “Well said. I’m glad I could help.”
“Yeah. Thanks a lot.” Elyna nervously returned it. “I was hoping you’d know what to do. And, I knew that you, y’know… I mean, I can ask Dad for advice on a lot of things, and it’s usually pretty good, but-”
“Happy Skeleton Day~!”
The door swung open, revealing a grinning Sly. They hadn’t heard him come through the front door, but he had no qualms about announcing his presence.
“How’s it going?” His eyes, the same hazel as Elyna’s, fell on the ofrendas. “Oh, wow. These look better and better every year, ‘Lita.”
“Oh, I didn’t do much differently…” said Carmelita, but her face betrayed how much she appreciated the comment.
He planted a kiss on her cheek, then planted himself beside her, husbandly.
“Where’s B?”
“Oh, she ran straight to her room,” he said. “Pretty sure she’s stashing her candy in a secure location. Or locations. Who knows how many caches she might have…”
Carmelita sighed. “Is that raccoon behaviour, or fox behaviour…?”
“Oh, both. Absolutely both. It’s a marvel she eats anything at dinner.”
He turned his warm smile more towards Elyna.
“So, what are you two talking about?”
“Just, uh, holiday stuff,” said Elyna. “I had a weird question. Carmelita is a good person to ask.”
“She is! Honestly, I just follow her lead.” He glanced over to her. “Speaking of, there’s still a few things to figure out about the big dinner. Bentley and Penelope are easy to cook for, but I like to give Murray new options where I can. Any thoughts?”
Seizing this chance for a tactful retreat, Elyna began to drift towards the door. “I might, uh, go check on B.”
“Good idea,” said Carmelita. “Again, I’m glad I could answer your question. You can always talk to me, Elyna.” That earned a smile, once much less nervous.
“Thanks, Mom.”
There was a pause.
Sly was pretty sure that blushes weren’t supposed to show up through fur, and yet, the lilac of Elyna’s face seemed to briefly veer into a much more reddish purple. Her hazel eyes were wide and unblinking. “mrrghg,” she said.
“Come again?” said Sly, unruffled.
“I said ‘okay bye’,” said Elyna and she was gone an instant later.
The door clicked shut with surprising gentleness. Sly chuckled. “Well…”
He stopped, finally noticing his wife had a similar facial expression.
“‘Lita? Everything alright?”
She blinked, twice, and suddenly she was back. It was still hard to slow Carmelita Fox down. “Sorry. Just wasn’t expecting that.”
Sly’s smile was wry, but his voice was soft. “I was.”
Carmelita leaned against him, and they stood there for a moment, half-embracing in their living room. Logistical questions about dinner plans and decorations fell away, briefly, as they savoured the feeling in the air. What had just happened, and the unique atmosphere of the day, and, of course, each other.
The silence was broken by a soft murmur.
“She’s a good kid.”
“Really?” said Sly innocently. “She doesn’t get it from me!”
Carmelita scoffed.
“Okay, maybe she does,” he admitted. “I have many wonderful qualities to pass on, as is evident in both our daughters…”
He cupped his wife’s cheek. Lost himself, for a moment, in those deep brown eyes.
“But you’re a better influence than I could ever be.”
Her reply was a kiss.
The moment passed, slowly, but they didn’t hurry to get back to decorating. It was still early, and they had several hours before the annual dinner they held for Murray and Bentley and Penelope - familial relations just as important as the gallery of photographs in front of them. As the girls engaged in hushed discussion of cheap chocolate upstairs.
“Oh,” said Carmelita. “While she and I were talking, I realized that Elyna’s never met my parents. We should fix that.”
“We should,” said Sly. “Sometime in winter, maybe? Whenever suits your folks. Might take us a little while to get over there, but we could throw in a few detours on the way, really make use of the journey…”
She smiled. “And when did I say we’d be going to them? They’d be perfectly happy to come here. You’re just-”
“-taking every chance I see to go on a trip, yes,” he smirked back. “C’mon, ‘Lita, you can hardly be that surprised. Old habits, etcetera…”
“Are you really so eager to escape?”
She said it as a joke, but he didn’t bounce back with another quip. He stood there, in his living room. His daughters upstairs. His parents watching over him from behind the glass of their picture frame. His brothers and sister-in-law, still thriving, quietly, the same way he was, on their way in a few hours. And, above all else, the love of his life in his arms.
31. VERY SUPER IMPORTANT BONUS QUESTION: Which pet do they buy at the marketplace in Mournhold? Scrib, rat, or pack rat?
Hmm...so I've never actually bought one because I'm afraid of them dying. But! I think Ildari would pick the scrib. Elyna would probably pick a regular rat because she wouldn't want to place her burdens upon a rat. And I think Adyn would also pick the scrib. Scribs are very good.
[Elyna Ralvas and Gavas Drin go to the Clockwork City to see to their gods' remains.
Sequel to this fic, and response to the #TESOctober prompt "Priestess."]
---
Elyna rose early the next morning and donned her armor as a precaution. Although she had dealt with all of the fabricants she had encountered during the previous day's trip to the Clockwork City, she had no way of knowing whether the city would have made more overnight. Looking over her weapons, she strapped an enchanted staff on her back and Trueflame on her hip. Her thoughts went to Hopesfire, still securely in her bag. Though she did not expect to use it, it felt strange to leave it behind and unprotected, and so she opted to keep it with her for this mission.
Once she felt sufficiently equipped, she returned to the temple to meet Archcanon Gavas. He was wearing his usual robes, which worried her somewhat, but Elyna knew most priests opted to go unarmored. She herself had only started wearing armor upon returning to Morrowind. She only hoped he knew enough defensive spells to protect himself should things get dangerous.
They exchanged few words of greeting and the briefest of briefings. This was not an exciting quest that they faced, but a solemn duty, and they tacitly agreed to respect the gravity of the situation. They joined hands to begin the teleportation. Elyna had contemplated how to effectively use the Mazed Band last night while she tried to sleep. When Almalexia teleported her to the Clockwork City, she had landed far from the Dome of Sotha Sil—probably in the hopes that she would be killed before she reached the central chamber. But Almalexia herself had landed in the Dome. She suspected that with some focus, she could target and land in a location of her choice within the city.
She concentrated and activated the Band. There was a warping sensation not too unlike that of a recall or intervention spell, and then they were standing outside of the Dome of Sotha Sil, just as she had planned. They waited at the door for a moment, gathering their bearings. Gavas gazed around at the brass hall, taking in the construction of this holy place. Elyna followed suit, realizing that in her focus the previous day, she never really had the chance to just look around and consider the beauty of this city created from nothing by a god.
The door to the Dome opened, and they were greeted by an Imperial woman who looked to be more brass than flesh, wielding a maul and fixing them with a harsh gaze. Behind her, Elyna could see another woman—a Dunmer—kneeling where she had left Sotha Sil's body.
"Who are you?" the woman with the maul asked. "What are you doing here?"
Elyna suppressed the instinct to reach for her blade and instead raised her hands. "Elyna Ralvas, Archcanon of Vivec."
"Gavas Drin, Archcanon of Mournhold. We came to do our duty to see to our gods' remains, and to find any high-ranking clergy of Sotha Sil to discuss...this whole situation. Would that be you?"
"It would," the woman said. She eyed them for a moment longer, and then slung her maul onto her back. "Luciana Pullo, Proctor of the Clockwork Apostles. And that's Varuni Arvel"—she pointed over her shoulder at the kneeling mer—"Chancellor of the Clockwork City. The two of us combined are probably the closest thing we have to an Archcanon." She stepped out of the way to allow them inside the chamber. "So, did you two get a vision, too? I didn't even know they could do that, but Varuni and I each had a dream last night telling us to come down here, and, well..." She gestured around the room.
Before they could feel obligated to explain how they came to know of their gods' death, Varuni stood up and came over to them. Though Elyna did not know her well enough to have a point of comparison, Varuni looked as if she had been crying. Her sense of guilt worsened at the sight.
"I'm glad to hear from someone from Nirn-Above," she said. "We were wondering how we would get this...information to the surface, since we don't have a reliable means of transport. Is Vivec...?"
"Safe, as far as I know," Elyna said.
"That's one good thing, at least," Varuni said. "We're trying to figure out what happened."
Luciana motioned them over to where Varuni had previously been kneeling. Elyna saw now that Almalexia's body had been brought over to lay beside Sotha Sil's.
"They both show signs of injury. One might think they fought each other to the death—for some reason—but the gears don't align with that explanation. Almalexia's body has clear signs of struggle, whereas Sotha Sil just has one stab wound to the chest, with some scorching around the edges. Also, it goes without saying that Seht wasn't exactly in a position to inflict the wounds we see on Almalexia.
"The best guess we have so far is that someone came here and stabbed Sotha Sil, and Almalexia learned of this and came to confront the murderer, but they managed to kill her as well, after a struggle. But hardly anyone can come and go from the Clockwork City, and fewer still would be able to kill two gods. I know it might be hard to imagine, but could it have been Vivec?"
Gavas glanced at Elyna, his face perfectly even, but Elyna recognized that he was deferring to her judgment.
Her heart raced with dread. She owed them the truth, but it would be no easier to deliver it than it was to Gavas. She bit her lip, and then willed herself to speak despite her instincts begging her to stay her tongue.
"It wasn't Vivec," she said quietly. "Almalexia killed Sotha Sil. And I killed Almalexia."
"You?" Luciana asked. She and her partner looked equal parts incredulous and appalled. "Explain yourself."
She recounted the relevant details of her stay in Mournhold and the previous day's trip to the Clockwork City, showing them Moon-and-Star, Trueflame, and Hopesfire as she went as proof of her claims.
"Well," Luciana said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence when Elyna had finished her tale. "That settles that, I guess."
"We need to consider how to move forward," Gavas said. "Elyna and I—and the two of you would be most welcome, if you wish—can take their bodies back to...Nirn...and into the care of the Temple—"
"No, sorry, that's not going to happen," Luciana said.
Gavas looked slightly confused. "We would see that they are treated with the utmost dignity, of course. Due to the sensitivity of this matter, they would be seen to only by the highest-ranking Temple officials and Vivec—"
"It's not going to happen," Luciana repeated. "You can take Almalexia back, but you'll forgive us if we don't hand our patron's remains over to the Temple and the House of his murderer."
"Ah. Right. I see your point," Gavas said awkwardly.
"We'll construct a tomb for him here in the City."
"As you wish," he said. "We would still invite both of you to come with us to the surface sometime soon. The four of us should meet with Vivec to discuss the future of the Tribunal Temple."
"That we could do," Varuni said. She was still eyeing Elyna with some caution and had been inching closer to Luciana since the reveal, but Elyna could tell she wanted to help as much as possible. "I assume you have some means of transportation?"
"Yes, I still have the Mazed Band," Elyna said.
"I knew that thing would come back to bite us sometime," Luciana said. "I guess I should be impressed it took so long. Did you have to kill Barilzar for it?"
"I did. Did you know him?"
"Everyone knew Barilzar. He was an eccentric old Apostle—one of many, granted—back in the Second Era. He left the City using that device he created, and then I guess Sotha Sil tasked him with protecting it with his life."
"More than his life, it seems," Elyna said. "He was a powerful lich—one of surprisingly many in Mournhold's sewers—when I encountered him." Her mind drifted back through the whirlwind of events that led her here. "It's strange to think of him as a Clockwork Apostle, or a mortal at all. When I fought him, I only knew him as a dangerous opponent in possession of a dangerous artifact that Almalexia needed. I wish I had known...but I also believe that this was all just one last piece of the prophecy. It would have happened one way or another."
Varuni relaxed slightly from her inching. "Seht teaches that everything happens because it must happen, that every event is simply the natural next tick of the gears. If you add prophecy on top of that, I think you're right: this was bound to happen. Perhaps Lord Seht even knew it was coming."
"I'm sure he did," Luciana said.
"I just don't understand why he wouldn't have told us," she said, mostly to herself.
"I don't know either, but you can ask him yourself once he's been properly laid to rest." Luciana turned her attention back to the Archcanons. "Give us, say, three days to deal with things here, and then we can all go talk to Vivec. For now, you should see to Almalexia."
"Indeed," Elyna said. "In the meantime, I'm not sure how many people live here, but it might be best to keep...all of this out of public view. We can share the truth once we know where the Temple is going; the people deserve it. But for the time being, as much as I hate to say it, we need to stay in careful control of what the people know. We don't need them to find out what happened before we have a plan and despair, and—Three forbid—turn to the Nine."
"We'll keep it quiet for now," Luciana agreed, accompanied by a solemn nod from Varuni.
"Thank you."
With the help of the two Clockwork Apostles, they wrapped Almalexia's body in a shroud to protect her identity from any onlookers who might be nearby when they returned home. Elyna offered to be the one to carry her, as she was the one to bear the weight of her death, but Gavas insisted that it should be his responsibility. As Almalexia's Archcanon, this was his jurisdiction, and he would perform this one last task for his Lady. When Almalexia was securely in his arms and the details of their planned return had been finalized, the Archcanons Elyna and Gavas left the Clockwork City to return to Nirn-Above.
