Just want to throw this idea (Story/Art prompt) into the community because I'm working on something for it- or rather, relating to it- as well; Revali with siblings. Revali with a twin, or two other siblings. Revali with a younger sibling, or two younger siblings. Revali with an older sibling who MAKES him feel small, who MAKES him feel like he has to do more, who MAKES him feel like he's insignificant. Revali with siblings and a family, who he might care about but they don't in return.
“Aw yeah! Revali with a family! Revali being loved! Revali being teased for being short by his.... aw yeah...aw...oh..........oh no--”
delicious delicious angst thank you This is terrible and you should feel bad
@thorndykechristopher replied to your post “@afincf-tirwer replied to your post “thorndykechristopher replied...”
So say if 🤔 shaotian didn’t have a personal weapon (stele aside), what if 🤔 he grabs a random sword on display in wenzhou’s home/workplace to fight off an intruder 🤔 . It’s a sword that could easily be imbued with magic 🤔 a weapon both sharp and explosive 🤔
Shaotian swings the sword to slice the furniture thrown in his direction and is shocked to see the oakwood table shatter into sharp slivers instead of two halves. There was no time to think about the oddity as his opponent swiftly charges towards him, blocking his sharp claws — and suddenly bearing his dead weight.
“What the fuck?” Shaotian grunts as he shoves the body off of him. He readies his grip to hack of the creature’s head if he needs to, but the injuries on the corpse gives him pause: there are oak slivers sticking out of the body and, from the looks of some of the wounds, buried deep into the body too.
“Huh,” Shaotian says and stares at the sword he grabbed from Wenzhou’s mantelpiece. The blade is emitting an ice-blue sheen as it pulses with what Shaotian knows is Wenzhou’s energy. He bounces a little as he waves it into the air and says with a grin, “I’m definitely telling Wenzhou I’m keeping you, Troubling Rain!”
yu wenzhou freezes when huang shaotian gets to the point in the story about the sword’s kick ass magic. he’s bouncing all over the place, hands waving everywhere as he recounts what happened. his eyes gleam in the dusty beams of sunset filtering in through the window, newly spelled to close the loophole that had allowed this particular intruder to break in while yu wenzhou was oblivious to the world in his workroom.
he pushes aside the crushing wave of guilt in his part of the day’s proceedings. he’d been so certain his wards were impenetrable that he hadn’t thought twice before requesting to borrow huang shaotian’s seraph blade to study how its properties affected certain experimental magics.
huang shaotian had trusted him and it nearly got him killed.
the question of how someone had fooled the wards using a vial of huang shaotian’s blood suddenly took a backseat in yu wenzhou’s mind as the details of the story fully registered in his brain.
“may i see the sword?” he asks.
“it’s not like you have to ask, it’s your sword! of course you can see your sword.” huang shaotian is halfway to the sitting room couch, his words growing louder the further away he gets. he bounds back, unsheathing a blade that makes yu wenzhou’s breath catch.
“what? what’s the matter?” huang shaotian eyes the blade suspiciously but seems hesitant to part with it, even as he asks, “it’s not cursed is it? don’t worry, wenzhou, no cursed blade can defeat me!”
“it’s not cursed.” yu wenzhou smiles the type of fond smile that always seems to slip out when huang shaotian is around. he’s tried to hold it back on more than one occasion but has given it up as a lost cause. he’d prefer not to display his emotions to the world, but the wide, happy grin he so often gets in return is worth the lapse in control. with effort, he wrangles his wandering thoughts back to the issue at hand. “it’s not cursed but it is spelled.”
he holds out his hand, eyes gesturing to the sword. “may i?”
huang shaotian hands it over without protest.
closing his eyes, yu wenzhou lets his magic sweep over the weapon, confirming his suspicions. the magic on the sword is as strong as the day he cast he spell. he opens them again and blinks away the rush of power that always threatens to overwhelm him if he isn’t careful. “it’s an old piece of magic. this weapon is a powerful artifact, and to keep it from being misused, i created a spell that would repel anyone who tried to use it.”
“but i could use the sword,” huang shaotian muses, more to himself than yu wenzhou. he scrunches his nose in way he does when he concentrates on learning a new martial arts move, and not for the first time, yu wenzhou wonders how someone so cute can be so deadly. he doesn’t have time to think on it very long before huang shaotian snaps out of it and races to his side, eyes wide with fear. “there isn’t something wrong with your magic, is there?”
yu wenzhou shakes his head, quick to reassure him. “not at all. my magic is fine.”
the hand on his shoulder releases its death grip and yu wenzhou hides his wince. sometimes huang shaotian forgets his nephilim strength, but he’s hardly going to reprimand him for being concerned. it’s been a long time since one of his bodyguards showed him such care, not just for his safety but for his magic and his well-being and his happiness.
not that huang shaotian is a mere bodyguard. yu wenzhou cares for him with a depth that should scare him and send him running, but instead he only wants to keep huang shaotian closer.
“come on, wenzhou, stop all that deep thinking and mystic warlock shit and spit it out. what’s the deal with the sword? I know that look on your face, you can’t hide from me.”
yu wenzhou laughs, not bothering to deny it. he has no desire to hide, not from the man he loves so fiercely. “there’s nothing wrong with my magic, it’s just....” he trails off, unsure how to say it.
“well....” huang shaotian prompts, practically bouncing on his heels in his impatience.
the only way to say it was to just say it, and so he does. “it was the magic itself that let you have the sword, i had nothing to do with it.”
“i didn’t know magic worked that way.”
“it doesn’t.” yu wenzhou runs a finger along the length of the blade, feeling the magic hum in contentment beneath his touch.
his magic had reached out to huang shaotian completely on its own, had come to his aid when he was in danger and allowed him to save himself. the event is unprecedented but feels right in a way that settles something in yu wenzhou’s chest. his magic chose shaotian, would protect shaotian, even when he himself couldn’t.
on that front, he and his magic are in perfect agreement.
he extends his hand again, this time to return the weapon to its rightful place. “the magic chose you, shaotian. the sword will make you stronger, moreso than you’d be wielding any other weapon. it’s yours now.”
“no way, no way, no way. i have a magic sword.” the words are barely a whispered afterthought as, eyes wide, huang shaotian wraps his hand around the hilt.
the blade pulses blue with magic, happy to be back where it belongs.
I feel like some people who are like “pfft so Batman’s parents died, so what, he’s not over it yet?” forget 1. how tiny and young 8 years old actually is, and 2. No one would do well seeing people they cared about murdered in front of them, no one does well with people they care about dying under normal circumstances. So no, I feel like its reasonable for him to “not be over it yet”.
