#the threads

[hedwigoprah]

The threads don’t have a faction symbol?!?!

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

WIP Wednesday/Thursday/Whatever

MORTAL KOMBAAAAT 🐉🗣️

Thank you @aetherflowers @woundedsoul12 and @sunny374940 for the tag! I am working hard at my revised A Word with Friends for this week, where I fell in love with @hedwigoprah 's "The Loser" (it's Emmrook worldbuilding fluff with Veryl my beloved darling angel and it FUCKS GO READ IT) but I was immediately enamored by the idea of the underground street fighting ring the Threads use in Docktown's catacombs to smuggle goods, make extra money and gather intel beneath Minrathous. I spoke with @hedwigoprah and was given a go ahead to explore more of that setting (and have Coadi fight! Because Coadi loves a brawl. You know this.) It was doubly interesting to consider how popular this... em... "sport" might have grown after the Minrathous dragon attack, and how it might help put them in touch with some of the missing Shadow Dragons. Anyway, I've got mostly expository dialogue so far.

****

“Sure, I can help you. I just need a tiny favor in return.” Elek squinted, voice reaching a comical pitch as he held two fingers together. 

Rook groaned. “Last time I did a favor for you and your boss I got my ass handed to me. By your boss.” 

“Boss’ body. Different. He likes you!” 

“Ugh. I like my ribs.” 

Elek grinned. “Getting soft on me now?” 

“No, just bruised. I’m happy to help you for free, Elek, you know that.” Rook settled back on their heels and folded their arms. 

“That is very sweet, Rook, but the reverse just isn’t true.” 

“Oh, I see.” The Veil Jumper grinned. “Maker forbid you just hand out information.” 

Elek beamed and leaned in close, touching his fingertip briefly to the tip of the rogue’s nose. “You are so very clever.” 

Rook leveled him with a flat glare. “What do you want?” 

“And you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” 

“Elek. Gauntlet. Your jaw.” 

“Right. Well.” He sighed and leaned back on his heels against the outside of the Cobbled Swan. “I’m in need of a little spectacle.” 

At Rook’s raised eyebrow, he held up his hands. “Nothing crazy, just someone to keep face for the Threads. A friend of mine’s got a mean bout of, er, maimed chest cavity. He has graciously bowed out.” 

"Bowed out of what?" Rook's eyes narrowed as their voice took on a suspicious edge. "You hate Templars, right?"

"…Yeah. Why?"

"Good!" Elek grinned. "Then this'll be a breeze!"

"This is a terrible idea. I say we grab the little weasel and beat the information out of him for free." Davrin was leaning against the stone wall, armor flashing in the flickering torchlight. No Warden insignia here, too obvious, but his chestplate (though beaten and bruised) still very much meant business. The leathers beneath were nondescript enough not to be recognized. Then again, none of their party were very nondescript to begin with.

Rook chuckled from where they sat on the cavern floor, bent over their knee, arms stretched out to hold the arch of their foot and settle their weight into their hips. The rough stone was delightfully cool. “Elek's a criminal, but he's good for his word,” they hummed, eyes closed where they rested their brow on their knee, feeling the slowly burning stretch in their hamstring as the skin of their back flexed through a deep breath. The fabric of their sleeveless shirt breathed with them, tight and cut close to the collarbone. They wore loose fitting linen pants in shades of brown, bandaged to support their calves beneath their boots. They felt light out of their plate armor. Fast. The damp underground air clung to their skin like a promise, the seaside chill working its way deep into their bones.

“Damas lit up like a boy on Wintersend. He's hoping you make a lot of coin tonight.” Neve spoke from where she leaned against the cavern's blind corner, head tipped to regard the long hallway where it dripped with saltwater condensation.

“I don't mind,” Rook murmured, shifting their position to lean over their right leg instead. They took a deep breath and let it slowly out. “No weapons, no magic… I like my chances.” 

“We haven't seen the other guy yet. An Antaam with no weapons and no magic is still an Antaam,” Davrin pointed out. “Neve could have found a better lead. Or better yet, I could step in for you. You're still recovering from Arlathan.” 

“I've been looking for a ‘better lead’ for a month and a half. If we wait much longer those fishermen will be as good as sunk. Besides. The Shadow Dragons need all the help they can get.” Neve turned to regard them seriously.

“I want to do this. And Elek asked me. I think I can handle it,” Rook murmured quietly, intent on the clicking of the sinew in their neck and back. “I've been looking for an excuse to tussle. Better here than with the darkspawn.” 

“The last guy walked out of that ring with a broken jaw. Literally. Hanging in halves.” Davrin shook his head. “They're not exactly matching up by weight class.” 

“That's all the fun,” Neve said with a wry smile. 

“You want in?” Rook teased, looking up at the Warden with a crooked grin. 

“If it gets you out of there,” Davrin said sternly. “I think you're going a little stir crazy. I know the crater was rough–” 

“Dav,” Rook warned. Neve tsked and rolled her gaze back down the underground tunnel. 

“Don't ‘Dav’ me, please,” the Warden rumbled. “I'm just saying, you need to be well enough to meet Antoine and Evka tomorrow morning. But if you need someone to bail you out, Neve and I can jump in.” 

“Kind of defeats the purpose of the favor, no? I want that lead, Davrin,” Rook sighed, getting their feet under them and rolling to their full height to stretch their hands over their head, flexing their fingers. “People are counting on us, and we need a good lead. The Venatori have held a knife over the Shadow Dragons for too damn long, and I'm sick of rescuing corpses.” 

“I hear you.” Davrin shook his head. “...Guess I have no choice. I've got thirty silver on you. Don't make me lose the coin. Assan has to eat.” 

Rook snorted, grinning. "Little freeloader could use a wakeup call."

"Watch it," Davrin chuckled.

"He still needs a bath when this is over."

"Yeah. Good luck with that."

Rook snickered, rolling their neck and looping their arm through their elbow to stretch out their shoulder with a few crackling pops.

"There they are. Don't you look formidable," came Elek's voice floating from around the corner. Neve saw him first from where she was standing and smiled a little as the grifter swept into the cavern.

Rook smiled wryly, stretching their other arm across their chest. "Remind me. Not to the death?"

"Pff- no." Elek waved a hand dismissively. "Not usually. Bad for business. Less returning fighters."

"Just checking."

"And that would be even more illegal."

"Right." Rook grinned at him and shifted their weight from foot to foot. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes. No cold feet, right?"

"Please. I've never chickened out of a fight."

"And how many actual fights have been scheduled, nice and orderly?"

"Look, I like to improvise."

Elek laughed, a short bark of approval as he walked a considering circle around Rook. "There is the small issue of presentation. There are some… less than savory members of the audience. I don't think you'll want to be 'Rook' tonight. Besides, not very awe inspiring."

"Unless you're Venatori," Davrin said lowly. "Don't tell me you'll have them watching."

"Oh, there's no way of knowing really. But they wouldn't be welcome." Elek cast the Warden an inscrutable glance. "The Threads keep a handle on the underside of the streets here. These are our tunnels."

"You like chess as much as the next guy…?" Rook prompted.

Elek straightened and paused his pacing. "Yes. Right. Well, you'll want something simple. Snappy. Easy for me to yell into the dark."

Rook rolled a shoulder and glanced at Neve. She blinked. "What?"

"You're good at names."

"Real names are part of my job, not stage names." But the mage softened a little, starting to smile as she raked her gaze over the Veil Jumper. "…You'll always be Rook to me."

"Could have been a Samuel," Davrin teased.

"Ooh! I actually like that," Rook laughed.

Elek folded his arms with a wry grin. "I was thinking something with a little more flash."

"Brass," Neve and Rook said at the same time, before looking at each other in surprise. Rook beamed.

"Because of the—"

"The armor, yes. And you lean into your metals. You look naked without them."

Rook flexed their tattooed bicep with a teasing wink. "I must look great naked."

Neve scoffed, chuckling as Davrin groaned. Elek clapped his hands once. "Brass it is. Not the best I've heard but not the worst either. Neve? Your seal of approval?"

"Your type hardly ever see Rook's face when they get the drop on you. I'm sure it will be fine." The detective smiled.

"Fair enough! I'm going to go work up the crowd."

"Still a full house out there?" Davrin hedged.

"Oh yes! My friend was very… prolific."

"You mean the guy Rook's standing in for?"

"The very same. He'll be recovering for some time. So Rook, if you decide you like coming down here—"

"Let me win first," Rook laughed, just as Davrin grumbled, "Don't even think it."

+++ Lol. Davrin's a little grumpy, I'm not sure he loves the idea of the Threads in general. I do think he'll warm up to Elek in time. Because who wouldn't, he's a delight!

Gentle (and late) tags for my beloveds:

 @draco-illius-noctis @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @hedwigoprah @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @woundedsoul12 @aetherflowers @officialnostradamus @fenrelmercar @redheadsramblings @thesummerstorms @jukkaricity @madamemortem @spinfins

Drink water, take your meds and fear no darkness!

[jenn2d2]

A Word With Friends | June 2

This is an absolute favorite word of mine!

Tagged by the amazing and lovely @hedwigoprah, as well as @notyourmamasdeerbat and @woundedsoul12!

I'm late enough that I'll just toss out a few tags to folks in case I've missed what they've done for this already - @serensama, @the-font-bandit, @caughtnyact, @strugglinggranola

Avarice

1. Excessive or inordinatedesire of gain; greed for wealth 2. Inordinate desire for some supposed good.

And I am back on my Illario kick, this time from the WIP "Five Easy Contracts" (prequel for my other stuff, set to start after I finish Crow Parties are Murder.) Also a bit of a WIP Whenever vibe 🤣

The Cat's Paw was well suited for Dock Town. It was just sleazy enough to be what it was, a place where a mix of hope, danger, avarice, and just a little luck funneled an immense amount of money into the Threads. Small and large luxuries and conveniences made it easy for patrons to spend their money and time like water and leave feeling just the right mix of exhilaration and disappointment to keep them coming back. A perfect spot to find an eccentric mage who made his living on selling lives and despair to the highest bidder.

"Mmmph, olives," a bare foot slid up the inside of his thigh as the woman across from him abruptly sat up. She tipped forward slightly with her dress askew, but didn't open her eyes. Her face was sleep soft, which he found a vast improvement over the arch and pinched expression she had worn for most of the evening.

"I think that is perhaps enough for you, little dove," Illario murmured. She didn't protest as Illario gently moved her leg back to her side of the booth, and eased her into a less compromising position laying down. Her dress was artfully readjusted so that the position was natural, attractive, and unlikely to provoke anyone into waking her for some time.

Illario stretched and stepped out of the booth, making a show of re-buttoning his shirt and arranging his hair. He tugged the curtain closed behind him, ensuring that it would be unlikely for the staff or anyone else to disturb her until closing time around sunrise.

"He'll want you more if you're someone else's," the bartender panted in Illario's ear, shifting their position to press him closer against their neck. "Oh, like yours, Ennka?" Illario laughed and nipped at their ear in return, letting one of his hands trace up to the point. He pressed closer, pinning them against the storeroom wall and slipping his leg between theirs. "No. Not what he wants—" the elf gasped and writhed as his other hand slipped up under their shirt, then gently pushed back for some space. Their big green eyes were luminous even in the dimly lit room. "He likes to take, from someone. Especially if he hates them. That's who he leaves with. His prizes."

After a short but entirely enjoyable fuck with Elek's best bartender, it had taken Illario the better part of the next day to find just the right mark. Cassida Lux, fashion darling of the High Town in Minrathous, and noted good-time party girl. Scion of a noteworthy house, indifferent at magic but still a mage, with no discernible talents apart from being tall and thin enough to look good in even the most questionable attire. She was exactly the type of dilettante that someone like Ericius Satenti would take immense personal pleasure in slighting.

It was almost a pity that Cassida was too blissed out to register the insult to her pride, but Illario didn't want to take the chance that she might actually disrupt his plans. His target's avarice was almost as well known as his lack of patience.

[jukkaricity]

A Word with Friends

Many thanks to @serensama for the tag! No pressure tags for: @cute-ellyna, @chaosherald and @blackwall-my-tiny-husband

Word prompt given: Mendacious

1. (adjective) Given to or characterized by deception or falsehood or divergence from absolute truth. Additional context: Mendacious and lying have very similar meanings, but the two are not interchangeable. Mendacious is more formal and literary, suggesting a deception harmless enough to be considered somewhat bland.

More Crime boss Neve, because I cannot keep her out of my mind. Not that I don't like it. The working title for this thing is 'Means and Ends'. I think I have just about enough snippets to convince myself to turn it into something more coherent.

❄️🗡️❄️🗡️❄️🗡️❄️🗡️❄️

“Do you really not have anything else I could work with?” Rana leaned back, the hard-wood chair digging into her back. Of all things that happened recently, she found missing her old office the most absurd somehow. The space Rana now called “hers”, was basically a glorified broom closet and yet she would still call herself lucky. At least she had a table and two chairs–a luxury many working Templars could only wish for.

Looking across the dimly lit space at her contact–her friend–she didn’t want to admit to feeling suspicious. Something has changed about her relationship with Neve in the weeks following the Battle of Minrathous, but she found herself failing in putting a finger on why.

Seemingly everything was as always. Neve worked her cases relentlessly, dealt with what she could on her own and gave word when needed. This seemed just like one of those cases. A newly formed smuggling-ring. Not into slavery yet, but things as they were it would only be a matter of time. And yet Rana couldn’t shake off a sensation that something was missing from the whole story. 

The entire situation was not helped at all by the fact that Neve appeared to lead her by her nose while feigning innocence. Things were clearly not as they seemed but between the chaos of the rebuilding, and the Knight-Commanders changing like colors of the magical signs in the bazaar, she had no time or energy to investigate. Which she was sure would turn around and bite her in the ass sooner than later. Rana sighed heavily, leaning her elbows on the desk. 

 “A bunch of mendacious stories and a known liar to corroborate them.” Rana continued, rubbing her temples, a little giveaway she had as Neve noticed, that usually showed itself when the templar was trying to pull the case threads together. “Knight-Captain might not buy it this time, Neve.” 

“Well, luckily for me, he doesn’t have to buy anything.” Neve smirked, wondering how much goodwill she still had with Rana, before everything would start crushing down between them “Have I ever given you a bad tip?”

***

Sitting across the table from Rana, Neve had noticed new silver strands gracing the Templar's hair, wondering how many of them she was personally responsible for. She had never intended for the relationship between them to take such a turn. She had always been able to be honest with Rana. Well, a white lie or an omission here and there, but not outright lying. Still, things have changed and such frivolities had to be put aside. Neve was quite sure that things now tying Rana’s hands were the exact same she was leveraging to her own advantage.

“But you did keep details from me before.”

“Only to keep you safe,” Neve thought as her eyebrows creased with both worry and fondness. Instead she rose from her spot and straightened her robe “That’s all I have Rana. I wish I could give you more.”

She hesitated for a moment. What she told Rana was all true. She did stumble upon the newly formed smuggling ring by accident. That it was while she was investigating who was trying to undermine the Threads and not while looking for the missing child was a matter of details. Details Rana didn’t need to know about. 

She could have had the Threads move on the start-ups and squash the competition before they even formed up, but having Rana and the Templars occupied in a different side of the Docktown would give the Syndicate a time to breathe. Maybe even get Neve a night or two of better sleep. Wins all around.

Or at least Neve wanted them to be. 

[haedia]

WIP (late) Friday!

Working on some Elek-related art and fic stuff lately and today I got inspired to work on the back tattoo design I have in mind for him.

He's been in the Threads for awhile. He's loyal and has at least some level of leadership since he's important enough to know Makal and presumably do things for him at times. So, I kind of headcanon that the Threads, and other Minrathous crime organizations, would have elaborate tattoos — especially for those higher up.

And why wouldn't those tattoos be visually inspired by thread and embroidery?

So, this is a first draft of sorts for the part of his tattoo that runs down his spine. I also envision a set of paired shoulder blade tattoos and another set that run down the backs of his biceps, but those will be worked on later.

I'm not 100% settled on the colors just yet (that's the part that is the most TBD here) but I like them. I just haven't dialed it in just yet.

But yeah. Figured I'd share the work in progress thus far.

[negligiblemoose]

So many conversations to have

Isabella goes with Neve to speak with the Threads about leads on Aelia, the Venatori blood witch

She impresses the crime lord by promising to protect Dock Town by whatever it takes. She's an assassin by trade, she's not exactly restricted by morals or ethics when it comes to what's necessary

Then Davrin takes her to Lavendel to speak with a contact who might know more about the Gloom Howler. She was the one who helped hatch the griffons

She explains that the Gloom Howler was an elven Warden named Iseya, and she had to blight to griffons by the First Warden's orders several hundred years ago

Then they killed all the griffons when they went rabid after the blight was done. That was what led to their extinction, and the First Warden then covered it up

Now they understand more about this Howler, they might be able to do something more about it

[crackedskel]

What a Lightshow!

For Neve Week Day 6 - Protector

Cultist activity is coming too close to home. To Neve’s Threads, to the people she cares about and the ones she has sworn to protect. But she can’t quite protect everyone – and sometimes needs some protection herself.

Massive thanks to @datvcompanionweeks for hosting!

Read on ao3 here!!

Posting Publicly on Ao3 until the end of next week and then I'll be restricting the fics to archive users only.