art that I've had commissioned is tagged #commission; things are tagged by character
my writing is under the "#my writing" tag
my one and only (for now) mcu fic can be found here (loki x oc, alternate universe, dealing with grief but in a distinctly marvel way)
list of characters below the cut bc there's A Lot and i probably forgot some oops
Unicorn Story characters: Orion, Mairyn, Kalin, Saerus, Jessalyn, Gregan, the Cabaret, unicorn story tag [catchall tag for these characters], world of saelia [aesthetics tag]
This time when she gasps for air, she finds herself on a stone slab. Candles and glowing, floating orbs illuminate the area, which appears to be a stone room.
"Arise, my mighty paladin servant!"
Confused, she turns her head to the side, and then sits up. Her armor creaks, rusty and dull.
Standing a few feet away is an elf with a thick spellbook. They appear to be a young adult, with long, braided hair. Their eyes light up when they see her looking at them.
"Yes, good! Look upon your Master and swear fealty to me," they say.
"Where am I?"
The elf starts, then stops. "What?"
"Where am I?" Ninjena repeats, cautiously testing her limbs. Everything seems to be in working order despite the passing of time.
"In – in my mom's basement. I've been studying necromancy," they stammer, clutching their tome. "I wanted to summon a warrior to make me look cool in front of the hot student president."
"Huh." She swings her legs over to the side and stands. Her armor squeaks and she winces at the noise. "Well, I'm not gonna do that. I gotta go find Strahd and kill him."
"Who? Wait, you can't leave! I'm your creator!" The elf looks down at their book, frantically reading and muttering to themselves. "Oh, oh this wasn't a binding spell, oh no."
"Bye."
–
It turns out she's in Waterdeep, home of the minor nobility. It also turns out that when the elf (presumably) dug up her corpse, they had taken all of the coin she had on her person.
She manages to bargain with both the blacksmith and the innkeeper, giving labor in exchange for repaired equipment and a meal and a bed.
She lays awake in bed that night, unable to take the taste of blood out of her mouth.
–
She leaves a few days later, sword on her back. She's not sure where she's going, but she knows she will find him again.
The next time she and her party are at a tavern, she takes notice of a group of people in the corner of the room. They wear bright colors and their jovial tones can be heard from a fair distance away.
One of them catches her eye and smiles. It's not a pleasant smile, and she shivers. The woman gestures for her to come over.
Ninjena glances at her party, who has already picked out a table and is ordering drinks. They don't notice her.
She goes to the strangers, one of whom has pulled a chair out for her. She sits.
"I believe you know who we are." The woman from earlier speaks, her voice melodious yet cold. "And I believe you know why we're here."
Not trusting herself to speak, Ninjena nods slowly.
"Then I suppose I only have one question for you, paladin." The woman leans forward. "Will you come willingly or not?"
Ninjena spares her party a glance. They don’t seem to have realized that she never joined them at the table.
"I'll come willingly."
—
She leaves in the wee hours of the morning, sitting in the back of a cart with some of the other Vistani. The morning air is crisp, cold on her skin and tongue.
One of the other people in the back pokes her. He looks no older than twelve. "Have you been to Barovia before?"
She hesitates before she answers. "It's been awhile since I've been there."
He seems dissatisfied with this answer. "How come you haven't been back?"
Because I wanted it to be a bad dream that ended. Because I don't want to die again. Because I wished I was insane instead of knowing the truth of the matter.
She shrugs. "Got busy with stuff."
He frowns and lets out a "humph" before he goes back to playing with the small knife he carries.
—
They take her through a dense forest that eventually thins out to plains. From the plains, they pass through a tiny village, go past a lake, and then stop at the beginning of a dirt path.
She hops out of the cart and dusts herself off. "Thank you for the ride."
The woman on the horse nods. "May you be well." She whistles, and then they ride off in a cloud of dust.
Ninjena watches them disappear into the distance, then turns around to face the foreboding castle. It looms over her, dark and imposing.
She crosses the drawbridge, and when she reaches the huge doors, she knocks.
The door slowly creaks open, and an old man steps out. "I'm sorry, the Master is not in at this time."
"My name is Ninjena." Her mouth feels dry. "He's been expecting me."
The man's expression does not change. He cocks his head to the side as though listening for something, and then nods and steps to the side.
"Please, madam, come in."
There's only a flicker of hesitation before she steps over the threshold.
The castle is gloomy, with a few sparse torches and sconces providing a dim glow. The old man leads her down a hallway before another set of doors. He opens them, and with little choice, she steps into the room.
It's a dining hall, decorated with a pipe organ at one end and a long table taking up most of the room. She stands there, hands clasped in front of her as Strahd continues to play the instrument.
"Please, take a seat." His voice is not particularly loud, but it still carries despite the music. "I have one picked out for you specifically."
She nods, slowly approaching. It isn't until she nearly reaches the head of the table that she sees a name tag, white with black ink in a fanciful hand: Ninjena Al-Amir.
"Ah, forgive me." Strahd stops playing and walks over, pulling out the chair for her. "It's been so long since I've had guests, my manners aren't what they used to be." He smiles, and though it isn't predatory, she still feels a chill run down her spine.
She takes her seat, with him pushing the chair in for her. He takes the seat at the head of the table.
"I trust the Vistani treated you well on your journey here?" he asks, producing a bottle of wine from underneath.
"They did," she replies, slightly surprised at how steady her voice sounds. "They're very good at making a journey feel like it takes no time at all."
"Indeed, they are." He pours a single glass and places it next to her plate.
Ninjena lifts the glass and smells. "Wizards of Wine, I presume?"
He nods. "Very good. Their blends are particularly unforgettable, or at least they were." He clicks his tongue. "Maybe someday they'll be able to make better wines with their vineyards. Luckily, I have a personal store of their better stock."
She takes a small sip and closes her eyes momentarily. It's sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. Underneath it, she can taste something earthy.
The dirt of the grave her friends buried her in after Strahd killed her.
She opens her eyes. "An interesting taste. I'm not much of a wine drinker, but it's good."
"Excellent." He smiles again, and this time the light of the candelabra shines on his fangs. He claps his hands twice and a door swings open. A different person comes out with a cart, which has many silver covered dishes atop it. "Please, enjoy."
The servant lifts the covers off one at a time. A bird with some sort of savory smelling sauce, roasted vegetables, and more greet her, and she's surprised she still has an appetite.
A few cautious bites quickly turn into an almost frenzied feast. She's been traveling for so long, surviving off of fresh game, rations, and on bad days, the druid's goodberries that she's almost forgotten how delicious a home cooked meal could be.
Strahd simply watches her with a glass in his hand, from which he occasionally drinks. She feels his piercing stare and pointedly ignores it in favor of enjoying her food.
At last, she sets down her fork and wipes her mouth with a napkin. "Whatever you're paying the chef, it isn't enough."
He laughs at that. "If you want to talk finances, I would be more than happy to introduce you to my accountant."
She shakes her head. "I don't really have a head for numbers, but I appreciate the offer."
How strange, to be conversing so casually with the one who has murdered you, who you have murdered in return.
He stands. "If you'll follow me into my study; I prefer to conduct business away from prying eyes."
Though every fiber in her body is screaming no, she nods and stands, following him through the castle.
Flashes of fights, of riddles solved, of bonds tested.
He at last leads her to a large wooden door, which he opens for her before following and closing it behind him. Inside is what looks to be a fairly typical study, with a bookshelf on the far end of the room and a large desk taking up most of the space.
"Please, have a seat." He gestures to a chair across from him as he goes to sit.
"I prefer to stand, actually."
There's a flash of anger in his eyes, but it's so brief that she wonders if it isn't a trick of the light. He stops and straightens up.
"Very well." His tone is cool, professional. "As I've said before, I have a proposition for you. Something where both of us benefit."
She raises an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe."
"I believe," he says, ignoring her, "that you have some questions about your father, yes? Something your mother said about him being 'from the stars,' as it were?"
Though her face remains stoic, the pit of her stomach still falls out.
She told me that when I was little. How long has he been inside my head?
"Perhaps," she replies. "I don't see how you can help with that."
"What if I told you I knew who your father was? What if I told you where he was, so you could go see him?"
"I'd say that's impossible, but I've since retired that word from my vocabulary."
He smiles thinly. "Anything you want to know – and if I can't answer it myself, he certainly can. I can put you in direct contact with him."
She hums. "And what would you get in return?"
His smile widens. "Oh, I have plans for you. First, though, I want you as my…ambassador, if you will."
"Ambassador?" Her stoicism is exchanged for confusion. "I don't understand."
He clicks his tongue. "That's not quite the right word, but there isn't exactly what you would call a modern day equivalent. It's…how should I put this? I want you to bring adventurers here."
"Bring them here?" Her mouth is dry. "But how will I find them?"
He waves his hand. "You've found parties of people before you came to Barovia. Just get them to come here. I'll take care of the rest."
"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not going to lure innocent people here so that you can feed on them."
"Feed on them? You wound me." He places a hand over where his heart would be if he had one. "I merely want to play with them, that's all."
She shakes her head again, harder this time. "No, absolutely not. I'm not going to work for a monster like you."
"You aren't curious about your parentage? Haven't you been wanting to know who your father was for your whole life?" he presses. "Don't you want answers?"
"Yes, but not from you." There's anger in her eyes. "I'd rather die than be your servant." She spits on the floor.
His face remains unchanged. "As you wish, paladin."
He lunges forward, fangs bared and arms outstretched. She clumsily dodges, her armor clanking loudly as she hits a wall.
"This would be much easier if you would hold still!"
In response, she grabs for her sword, only to find an empty scabbard.
How did he
Her thought is interrupted as he successfully grabs one of her wrists. "I really had hoped we would part on good terms. Oh well."
She tries to kick and punch him, but even through her armor it's like hitting stone. He grins, seeing the flames in her eyes replaced with mounting panic.
"Oh, don't act so scared. After all, you've died before. What is there to fear?"
"Let go of me!" Her voice is a scream, even though she knows that anyone who can hear her doesn't care.
"I'll see you in a while, paladin," he says.
Then he yanks her down and sets his teeth upon her throat and everything goes dark.
