#fae verse

[theclimbisallthereis]

Finally managed to put together something to show my 'fae' verse for Lyonel where he is some sort of satyr... faun... thing.

Storm based, of course.

Anyway please enjoy this took me forever.

[aerypear]

Twin Doppelgängers live in the woods away from society until enough occurrences of death happen to pique the interest of a scientist and his partner. Finding the culprit behind the sudden decrease of the towns people count proves to be a hard feat, and after finding them it proves to be harder to remember not to part from them. Not until they can find a way to undo the twins' curse at least.

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World, Tales of Symphonia Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Richter Abend/Aster Laker Characters: Ratatosk, Emil Castagnier, Aster Laker, Richter Abend, Various Original Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Doppelganger, tales of au, Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Twins 

Chapter 8 is complete and ready for reading~

It's been 6 years (iykyk) since I've updated this fic but I'm feeling motivated. I want to get back to writing this. I have up to Chapter 12 planned, so that's the current goal. After Chapter 12 I'll need a little bit to figure out where we go from there, but that shouldn't take too too long? (I say having left this for 6 years to gather dust.) We'll see. I am a little rusty so please excuse errors and phrasing issues.

Also, If you're wondering if there's less chapters than before, you would be correct. I merged the prologue and Chapter 1, and also merged Chapters 2&3 to become 2. So before the changes, we were headed to chapter 10 after this chapter. Instead, we're back to waiting for chapter 9 even though this is actually chapter 9! 

Depending on my mood I might actually go back through chapters 1, 3 & 4 and beef them up to be at least 3,000-4,000 words to match chapters 5-8 in length.  It's been 6 years, so I don't really recall where the skill jump came where chapter 4 was only 1.4K words and then chapter 5 jumped to being just shy of 5k words. Frontal lobe development? Having two amazing friends cheering me on to better my writing? I don't know, but it does mildly bother me they don't match in length. I will put in the head notes if a chapter has been edited to be longer though if I do go back through them

[crowsworks]

@maiuoart for the awesome pics of Talus and his half Brother Periwinkle. Talus' bro is Maerune whom is not done yet, and Periwinkle's bro is Mintear aka Honeysuckle whom is also not done yet either. But these are My Fae guys just some of them. Ennsli and the others are coming. Talus; is part of the guard of the Fae and acts as Judge and assassin for his king and Queen. He doesn't have scars as he is untouchable basically. Periwinkle is also part of the guard however his is ice, he uses ice spears to hit from a distance. Which is why he too does not boast scars.

[guard-dogbiscuits]

@mesonoxianmonster

Several beasts could also be seen, far more cautious than the stalking imp but still rather curious of the intruding party. Strange creatures of varying size and shape, hooved and clawed and winged, foreign to other forests but seemed quite comfortable in these woods.

The imp seemed engrossed with Moonglum’s actions, being so close to fire, taking care to separate each of their little tricks into designated and neat piles. Was he counting them? Her attention turned towards the glint of something shimmering, shiny. They hadn’t seen it when they busy tying knots in the mane of the horses. Seeing as their initial target hadn’t noticed them, the imp moved quickly towards the armor, hoping to add the precious treasure to their collection.

The horses were bred in the sidhe, and well-accustomed to the tricks of impudent sprites. All it took was the toss of a mane, the swish of a tail, and the knots were gone.

As for Moonglum, he feigned not to notice. But he observed every movement of the imp as he...she?...crept ever closer to the stacked weapons and armor. But he said nothing. The only weapon that was a danger to the creature was safe in Elric's tent, with his hand firmly grasping it even in his sleep. And besides, Moonglum was not the only one on guard duty.

As the imp came within reach of her target, a loud hiss came from the nearest shadows. What emerged from them appeared to be a cat--except for the wings. They were not feathered, but leathery, like batwings. And the shadow cast by the beast was much too large to belong to the cat as she appeared...

[favoritefadedfantasies]

Otherworld // Rynn x Michael

@intoxicatingxminds 

When she’d made that deal hundreds of years ago, she’d never expected to find herself here, standing in front of a hard-to-find apartment in the middle of the city’s booming supernatural drug business.

And yet, here she was with centuries of life lived and a changed appearance to show for it. Teeth a little too sharp, eyes a little two grin, the porcelain skin of her ribcage and waist and hips and thighs interuppted by black ink tattoos -- all evidence of the changes the fae had imposed upon her without telling her. 

“You will provide us your  name and aid us the rest of your life, yes? Do you agree to this deal?”

“Yes.” And that was that, she drank the ambrosia and began to slowly lose her humanity decade by decade. Of course, she hadn’t known that yet. 

Rynn pulled her mind from it - the bitterness had faded for the most part, and they would allow her to live her live for decades without interference. But she always knew they’d come back, and come back they had. This city needed someone with a delicate manner to provide deliveries of the new in-demand, high-end drug laced with ambrosia and, by some rumors, fae blood. It sent fae into a different plane of existence when they took it and made everyone else feel light and brilliant and sharp and giddy. 

The man on the otherside of this door, whose name was the only thing she knew, seemed to be the keeper of the product at the moment. And her job? To charm her way into the right parties, balls, theater openings, opera nights, and perhaps bedrooms to ensure the fae coffers stayed full. Today was her first pickup, a smaller delivery to get her feet wet. 

Drawing a breath, she knocked on the door. 

“Michael? I believe you were told to expect me? It’s Rynn.” Her velvet voice called, hoping the man was home. 

[itsbalthier]

really extra over the top as usual for me starter for shiny new ‘verse with @gotitmemorised & a side of @sans-un-ciel 

There’s a sort of peace no other retreat can provide aside from what home itself offers, Balthier decides as he settles in his desk come nightfall. At this point, the formula is simple enough and he’s learned it all by now: a warm fire crackling in the den, a typewriter with a gratifying click that rewards him with each word written, and a hot toddy. Indeed, there’s little else Balthier would rather have for company on a cold winter’s night - aside, of course, from Tristan, though that goes without saying; the husky sits ever-faithful at his feet under the desk, warming his feet quite nicely.

Yes, all of this culminates to a foolproof cocoon of comfort for the aspiring author. Yet before him, the blank page is as white and crisply virgin-bare as the snow falling outside. It stares at him in the face, a jilted lover dissatisfied with his performance, and Balthier stares back.

The words do not come.

There’s little he loathes more than the telltale ‘xx’ marring his paper as he backtracks on words he cannot decide on. If he’s not to write anything good, he shan’t write at all - bah. Balthier sighs and swipes to grab his discarded handwritten notes to his left, sifting through them with narrowed eyes. Today’s chapter was supposed to be a rather easy one - he’s outlined it somewhere, amidst this mess...

Below him, Tristan stirs suddenly, and the warmth covering Balthier’s feet swiftly dissipates as the husky rises to stretch beneath the desk. He shakes to and fro, his collar jingling with the movement, before he trots out from under the oak desk. Tristan’s claws click on the hardwood floor of Balthier’s cabin, and his tail, wagging furiously, suggests something amiss. With some hesitance, Balthier places his notes upon the desk again to regard his companion.

“You already ate,” he chided. “Ah,” the realization is almost immediate, and he turns to face out the wide expanse of the A-frame cabin’s grand window to watch the snow falling, “I can wager a guess what's gotten you all in a tizzy.”

It’s been years since he’s lived in this mountain home, yet Tristan is still a fresh pup every time a new snow falls on these hills. Balthier grins at his pet, and rises from his chair. “Very well--perhaps some fresh air will do me some good. And I’ll not have you bothering me any more once we’re back in. Understood?”

Tristan, who possesses the intelligence which rivals that of most humes Balthier has ever had the misfortune of meeting, barks in what could only be an innate understanding of his owner’s words, and rushes to the door. Balthier dons his boots, scarf, and heavy fur cloak - a deep russet mink - at the entrance to his lodge, pulls the hood up around his head, and opens the door to welcome the chill winter night.

The snowfall is heavy and quick, already eating up the shoveling he’d done just last week; no doubt this would be another large storm, according to the radio. Tristan bounds ahead into it, and with his latern, Balthier follows. Around them both the night is quiet save for the husky’s pouncing leaps into the snowbanks and the crunch of Balthier’s boots down the well-worn footpaths. Tomorrow these trails will be thick with ice, so it’s best he enjoy the walk while he can before being cooped up again in his abode. Tristan, at least, is already highly enjoying the fresh air; he scents the wind and trots ahead, head turning this way and that in a frenzy.

He need not keep a sharp eye on his dog - Tristan is well-trained enough that he never goes far from his sight and comes merely with a whistle. So Balthier allows his thoughts to wander, about his novel, about his poor luck as of late, about those bloody publishers in the city that turn their nose up at every manuscript he throws at them. The sigh emits a puff of warm air that thickens the night briefly before the wind waves it away. He admits it with ease, though only to himself (not that there’s anyone for many many miles to admit anything to) - he’s not in the best of spirits and that is why his pages sit blank and his typewriter collects dust. If only--

“Hey!” Balthier calls, a chiding sharpness to his tone, as Tristan bounds ahead from scenting the air. The dog takes off like a shot, and Balthier gives chase, calling his name.

The darkness of the night swallows everything quickly, and Balthier loses sight of his dog. Tristan is far ahead - he can hear the husky’s bark, as if beckoning Balthier to him, and the author hastens his pace until he finds Tristan further down a decline; the dog stands, frozen and perfectly poised, the only movement his slightly wagging tail as he stares like a statue off the path to the left. Slowly Balthier approaches his dog, and shines the lantern into the thicket.

“By gods,” the words fall from his mouth immediately and he breaks into the bank, clambering through the half-foot of snow that eats at his boots to approach the still, huddled figure of a man slumped against the trees. “You there, are you alive?” He drops the lantern in the snow to free both hands, and falls to his knees to inspect the mysterious figure. Whoever he is, he’s barely dressed for the weather and is oddly, terrifyingly still in the icy cold. In all his years in the mountains Balthier has never come across anyone to travel this high in the dead of winter with no supplies - this man, if he isn’t already dead, is well on his way. In haste Balthier sheds his cloak and wraps it around the man, and gives him a solid shake. “You there--I said, are you alive? Hey!”

[favoritefadedfantasies]

Control // Rynn x Lomear

@earelloxtiruvai continued from here

There were very few things that could blindside Lomear. That said, he didn’t see this coming at all. The elf groaned as his back collided with the nearest shelf, Rynn’s hands holding his shirt firmly. He’d barely had the time to pull her closer before her teeth-sharper than a human’s-found purchase in his throat, and he tensed,not expecting that at all.

“Rynn,” he gritted his teeth at what she was doing to him, at what her very touch was igniting. He touched  his neck, his fingers coming away bloody and he raised an eyebrow.

“You know, very few people can ever claim taking me by surprise,” he smirked at her, his hands moving to her hips, pushing her against the opposite wall, the two of them almost toppling over a cabinet  that stood there, several small glass items hitting the floor with crashing sounds. He didn’t even notice, Rynn’s teeth nipping at his earlobe as he started kissing her neck. He’d been trying to be…He wasn’t sure what, really; careful, probably. He knew what he was capable of, there was no reason for her to  as well.

Only apparently Rynn saw through this, he thought amusedly; she clearly, she didn’t much like it. He lifted her up on the now almost empty cabinet, sweeping the rest of the crystal and glass things on it off,his hands moving back to her hips, pulling he closer. “You’re sure this is how you want to play this?” he asked, a dark little smirk playing on his lips; there was no hint of politeness there, none at all, something darker surfacing.

Judging from the way he gasped her name and looked down at her, he hadn’t been expecting this from the fae. And why would he? Modern stories had fae listed as sweet, tame little things that granted wishes and helped people. Or perhaps as tricksters that had no hearts - but they never seemed to cover the truth of their raise. They were creatures of indulgence, of passion, of fire. They never denied their true natures, and when they wanted something they were nearly obsessive about it. In many ways, Rynn was different than the fae - but in this way, she was not. She was Unseelie, after all, a fact she’d failed to mention until now.

“Well then, I’m proud to say I can.” Rynn smirked, right back, gasping as he slammed her into the cabinet. She was enjoying this, and the wild wickedness in her eyes made that clear. The redhead settled into the cabinet where he’d placed her, entirely unconcerned with the smashed merchandise on the floor. After giving the neighbors a few moments to peek in, Rynn snapped her fingers, the shades all coming down at once as the door locked. 

“I’m not playing Lomear...” the redhead whispered, a glint in her eyes that matched the darkness in his own. She pressed her lips to his ear once more. “I believe I forgot to mention something..” her low chuckle was taunting, teasing as she moved to lick the blood off his neck. “I’m a rebel of the Unseelie, Lomear, a runaway from the dark court.”

[favoritefadedfantasies]

Hunger // Rynn x Vasiliy

@quiisquiliae

These were ancient lands. She’d always known that of course, but after the change, there was something different about it - it was.... brighter. The sounds were sharper, the scent of the air sweeter. And she was a part of it.

The blood that ran through her veins was...different. A little too purple, a little too warm, a little too decadent. Her skin had a subtle radiance - not enough to be suspicious, but enough to make the observant look twice. And those eyes - a slight glimmer, a hint of a glow that wasn’t easily forgotten, especially considering the rare shade of emerald that they were. 

She’d grown used to it over the past 700 years, and when she’d made the deal, she’d known there’d be consequences -- but she hadn’t quite expected these consequences.  The fae hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with her - they were tricksters after all. She’d promised them a lifetime of service if they’d help her escape; they’d simply neglected to mention that a lifetime for her was now indefinite. 

The thrill of immortality had long since worn off, and she’d spent ample time exploring the world. It was time to return to Ireland, and perhaps settle for a bit - see where this new century took her. Her original blood line had ended generations ago, and her family estates were lost to the annals of history. Besides, she’d no intention of returning there.

But there was a somewhat remote area she’d heard of, one where the local children still whispered that the castle was haunted. It had fallen to disarray, neglected as generations of royalty and feudal lords slowly lost their wealth and influence. The world kept spinning, and the castle kept standing - ignored and feared. 

A perfect option then, really, for a changeling woman to settle and invest in. And so she stood, outside the walls of the faded, but still stunning relic. Seemed easy enough to break into, especially for someone of her abilities and determination. And it wasn’t like she’d had anything to fear -- Rynn had come across every imaginable monster, and lived to tell the tale. If the fae had done anything for her, it was make her powerful enough to stand on her own. 

Pulling those crimson locks into a pony tail, she drew in a breath began to scale the walls towards one of the broken windows.