#mortal!malthael

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Aight I forget. Does Tristram have any kinda yuletide or whatever? Does Farah have a reason to wrestle Mal into a hideously festive and unfairly comfortable sweater.

Absolutely, Tristram has a mid-winter celebration. I haven't fleshed out the lore around it nearly as much as I did around the canon non-compliant damn it thanks Book of Adria Night of Souls, but it would share elements of real worldwide celebrations for the solstice. I would assume it takes place on or leading up to the winter solstice.

The more I think on it, and the Diablo realm's fixation on Light/Dark, it would probably be very candle and fire heavy, to help physically light the world when even the sun cannot.

(It would be fun if there were rune stones, like Stonehenge, where the sun's light on the solstice would illuminate the markings and create actual magic! For the summer as well.)

One thing this made me think of is Saint Lucy's Day. Lots of imagery around a martyr carrying the Light into the world. (I wonder just how much of this might carry over from Inarius' dealings in Sanctuary?)

I think there would be an avoidance of marriage/hand-fasting during this time, as there is a lot of imagery (at least in my fanon) around the Light for weddings and they would rather do that in the spring/summer/autumn.

Because Tristram's winters appear as though they would be cold, I assume eating/drinking/feasts would happen. Singing/carols seem to be a big part of a lot of solstice celebrations to help ward off evil, so yes, there would be that too.

I think gift-giving would also happen as a show of affection or love, though many of these gifts would likely be food or clothing.

I honestly can't think of a reason in Tristram that ugly sweaters would suddenly become a thing then and not the whole winter, but I could certainly see it in bigger cities like Westmarch where there would likely be more marketing around what the nobles are wearing.

However, I would like to personally believe that mortal!Auriel knits and crochets, and that from Archfall onward Mal is stuck wearing an absolutely gaudy shirt every single winter because she makes it for him as a present and he has zero excuses to not wear it.

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Great visual from @fishyfiash of how Mal would ideally wear his hair if he were smart. It stays out of his face while fighting and also has the bonus of popping the hood up properly. But, you know. He also likes it hanging down on his face. And he thinks buns get messy and fall out anyway.

(He should probably let Farah show him how to do it properly?)

[mal-likes-biscuits]

A neatly rolled and tied scroll of parchment happens to land in Malthael's message box. There are several scratched out sentences on it, as if the sender had trouble deciding what to ask. In very familiar handwriting, beneath all that mess, lies the innocuous question: "How best to keep my workspace clear of-" The word 'fools' is crossed out, substituted for: "mortals attempting to 'help'? Tyrael is decidedly less than helpful on this matter."

It was a good day, Malthael decided. Not a remarkable one, surely, but an acceptable one in both the quiet it presented and the steaming basket of baking that had been left for him on the table beside the hearth.

Please try and relax today! Hopefully these will help. ~ F

She knew him far too well. And while Malthael believed he was capable of relaxing without something to distract him and keep him in the house, he also acknowledged that such a belief was a touch misplaced.

Working on anything already in the home, though -- that was fair game, as the mortals often said. He shrugged, took a bite from a scone, and went to fetch the stack of letters that had built up in his study.

Oh, Tyrael would have words with him if he realized how much Malthael had let slide. His brother was always far too on top of things for the sheer sake of order. It wasn't as if most of the mail was urgent, and he was sure anyone who knew him well would understand the delay.

One letter caught his eye, though. He hesitated, the scone halfway to his mouth, before settling in more comfortably in his arm chair to read through the most curious message.

How best to keep my workspace clear of fools mortals attempting to 'help'? Tyrael is decidedly less than helpful on this matter.

He raised a brow. The handwriting was familiar. Tone, much the same. Well. This had not happened in quite some time.

“Someone had best not be messing about with the rifts again,” he murmured, before relenting and going off to fetch his quill and ink. His knee was not an ideal writing surface, but he was reluctant to give up the warm chair and accessible basket of treats.

To the task, then. Some facts, he knew. This counterpart of his was alive. Familiar with mortals. On speaking terms with Tyrael. The status of Westmarch and that entire ordeal was up for debate. Was he immortal? Mortal?

He was irritated, surely. A most relatable predicament.

And here he was, about to give him a subpar reply.

The first step in returning peace to your workspace, he wrote, tapping the quill against his lips before continuing, is in understanding you will never quell the mortal urge to help. This urge is as fundamental to humanity as the urge to destroy is to the demons of Hell.

Oh, how he knew that so intimately at this point. He could feel it burning within him even now: a part of his immortal self that had only been honed in his current form.

Thus, your action must be two-fold. First, you must redirect the mortal meddling elsewhere. You may have witnessed this done with their own children. Find them a task. Whether it aids you or merely keeps them busy is your choice.

Second--

His other self was likely going to loathe this part.

Have you tried ignoring them? They will not go away. You, however, would be best served by learning to function as though they are non-existent. The sooner you do so, the happier less tetchy you will be.

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Like mother used to say, “ float like iceberg. Hit like thrown iceberg!”

"Was your mother an iceberg, by chance?"

Or, one of the barbarians of the north. It seemed the most likely.

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Hey Mr Reaper, I think I saw something outside of Tristram, floating through the trees? It had red eyes, big wings, and little fuzzies on top of its head. It made a really funky noise so I ran away. It was Kind of shaped like a moth? But it was mansize. Almost like a Mothman? Anyway I'm very afraid of moths and man and you are neither, plz do something about it.

Oh, but Malthael was very human, unfortunately; he was reminded of this constantly in just how damn tired he was dealing with the confounding stupidity of other beings.

The so-called Mothman could have been a new type of demon. But, more likely...

"Are you certain you haven't imbued in too many liquid spirits? Or perhaps mistaken the distant glow of a campfire for something more ominous?"

Was he curious? Always, at least a tad. But it also seemed the sort of thing mortals often called a 'wild-goose chase', and he could think of a handful of other individuals far more suited for such a task than he was. Knowing his luck, he would take the time to don his armor only to find something benign stalking about the woods.

"Valla's menagerie of young demon hunters are always looking for a new target. Perhaps you can wrangle them away from the library and spare Farah another crossbow bolt into her desk?"

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Malthael, have you ever accidentally eaten moldy bread?

"Haven't you?" he asks in return, raising a brow before returning to his book. Without looking, he fetches another pastry from a basket and takes a bite. "I thought so. I have far more important things to do than scrutinize each slice of baking ahead of time. And it is not as if it happens often."

A quiet voice in his mind that sounds an awful lot like Farah comments that, given his explanation, it could hardly be 'accidental'. He scoffs and hesitates only a moment before taking another bite.

"Regardless, it shouldn't last long enough to become stale, let alone moldy."

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Has Mal ever seen a whale. Does diablo world even have whales.

Yes and yes!

Just like Sanctuary has both familiar and monstrous creatures on land, it also does in the oceans. I suspect some of the whales are very large and very old, bordering on something a bit more otherworldly.

And they sing. Oh, yes, do they sing. Some sailors swear by the whale song as a way to avoid tangling with the deep's darker denizens. There may be a kraken or two swimming about. They don't bother with the whales, oddly.

One of the first places Mal found himself going when he started adventuring around was the coast. He's drawn to water rather intensely, though if you asked him about it, I doubt he could offer an explanation beyond "it feels familiar". Unsurprisingly, then, he eventually made his way out to the sea by Kingsport, and it was there he first became acquainted with all the mysteries of Sanctuary's waters.

(Some sailors more versed in the stories of priests claim that whales are a creation of the angels, and that when Sanctuary first sprung into being, they were given life so something could sing to the darkest corners of the waters.)

If you asked Mal about whales specifically, he would pause a moment, lost in thought, before admitting they "feel more familiar than other creatures." Their song is not the same as that of the Arch and the angels, but it is similar.

(More than one sailor has turned a blind eye to the gaunt, hooded man out on deck in a storm, bracing himself against the furthest edges of the ship while the crew tries to keep it afloat. Whistling. Whistling, to the whales. Sometimes, the thunder abates and the howling wind calms. Would you question it?)

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Did Mal ever do the kid thing where u eat a really pretty flower cuz it looks and smells Edible but u are Two and don't understand botany yet?

Sadly (to us?) no, because he’s familiar with poisoning and knows all sorts of things kill mortals. If anything, he was overtly cautious with eating anything that didn’t come from a kitchen until he learned his way around nature.

Now in a pinch he can scrounge for lunch almost anywhere. He knows what berries are safe, what animals cook up best if you can catch them, which fish are easiest to fillet, and a handful of mushrooms that are okay to eat without giving you a wicked trip. Mostly, he doesn’t have time to go digging/foraging about for things. He’d rather pack trail food (nuts, preserved meats, hard cheese, etc.) and snack while he’s walking.

In terms of human prepared food, he went hog wild once he got over the initial “oh god what is this body why is it here why am I here” reaction. He did not have context about what is considered tasty, what is regional, and what is edible but should not be eaten. Anything he could sample, he did. (That priest running the church he holed up at in Salvos has seen things. Mostly Mal gagging on awful food.)

Outside of the baking, he’s not actually a fan of the Westmarch region cuisine. Much like Lyndon says in Diablo 3, he considers it pretty bland and mushy. He vastly prefers things with a bit of spice and flavour, and he’s a huge fan of lean meats or skewer food. Tyrael should really know by now that if they let him loose in any sort of bazaar, he will “get lost” in the food stalls for a good hour with no consideration to time.

He’s still curious, after all. Lots of learning to be had.