It’s that time of the year again! Spread the holiday cheer by participating in the Wintersday Fic event! We’ve got four prompts to inspire you, but feel free to take them in any direction you’d like!
When the time comes to post just add the tag #tyriaslibrary or #tyriaslibrary event to make sure your fic gets featured here! And don’t worry if you’re not perfectly on time – anything posted for this event will be reblogged here no matter the date.
Prompt Schedule:
December 20/21 - Holiday Decorating: What type of decorations do Tyrian’s put up? Write about your characters decorating for the holiday!
December 22/23 - Winter Activities: What do your characters get up to in the winter season? Write about them enjoying whatever that means to them!
December 24/25 - Gift a Fic: Write a fic for a friend, or someone on tumblr you admire! This doesn’t have to be Wintersday themed, just something to make someone else smile!
December 26/27 - Quality Time: This is what the holiday is all about! Write about your characters spending time with the people they care about.
[My fill for the 2nd day of @tyrias-librarys Wintersday Event, Winter Activities! This time with the Salad Fam because c’mon, I gotta give them some love this time of year! Plus there will eventually be art to go with this fic hehe. Sorrel isn’t yet around for this fic - so it’s just Terra, Braham, & Cassia. Enjoy ♥ ]
There’s almost a lull over the Eye as Wintersday draws closer - they’ve a tentative sort of truce with the Ice Dragon, and people are happy for the break to spend time with their families.
Terra tries not to think about it as she finishes pulling her mantle and gloves on, stepping into her boots. It’s a rare day off, and she’d promised to spend it with her family - doing whatever they wanted.
Cassia’s wish had been to go outside, the Sprout dearly sick of being cooped up within the Eye.
Terra can’t blame her - and really, neither she or Braham can say no to their daughter. Especially not with a moment of peace, right before the Sprouts first Wintersday.
Properly outfitted against the cold, Terra heads out of the room and down the hall, passing through the private portal tucked away at the end of their private areas of the Eye - stepping out into the brisk air of the North, sucking in a sharp breath and automatically straightening her posture.
Familiar laughter from nearby makes her relax, striding quickly towards the source - catching sight of her husband and daughter up ahead, snowballs flying between them.
Cassia is giggling openly, horns catching the light of the sun above as she spins to toss another snowball - squealing in delight when one catches her in the shoulder.
Braham is kneeling, one arm filled with an arsenal of pre-rolled snowballs, face open and smile wide - it feels like it’s been years since Terra’s seen him so relaxed, and it makes her even more thankful for the Sprout.
Quietly, she sneaks up behind him, gathering a large bundle of snow in her hands as she goes - eyes meeting Cassia’s for a moment before she lets it go directly over the Norn’s head, making him shout in surprise.
“Hey!” Braham sputters for a moment, trying and failing to look angry, “Spirits, Ter, that’s cold!”
“Says the Norn who once did the same thing to me!” she huffs back, shrieking a little when his hand shoots out to tug her down, “Arg, Braham!”
“Snow angel time!” he announces with a wide smirk, and Terra’s annoyance shifts into confusion.
“Yay!” Cassia bounds over, dropping to her knees in the snow beside her parents and grinning in excitement, “Ready, Mum?”
“Were you waiting for me to make snow angels?” at the Sprout’s nod, Terra frowns a little, reaching out to ruffle the girls hair, “You didn’t have to wait!”
“I wanted to! It’s not as fun without you both here.” Cassia grins even wider, her eyes bright, “I know you’re really, really busy… but I love spending time with you, Mum! Dad says the break is good for you, too!”
“It is.” Braham mumbles, likely sure she’s going to argue.
And normally, maybe she would have. But right now, Terra’s just too overwhelmed with emotion to argue.
She reaches forwards to pull the Sprout into her arms, grip tightening when Cassia burrows happily against her chest.
“I love spending time with you too, hun. I’m sorry I’m always so busy. I promise, I’ll have more time with you soon.” Terra shoots Braham a look, meeting his grin, “There’s some things we need to figure out, but… we can talk about that later.”
For @tyrias-library‘s Halloween event, unter the Cryptids prompt.
“Why exactly are we here boss? I know you like secrecy, but usually I know at least the basic reason for our travels” Lugard nervously scratched his wrist, the scraping of metal on metal only adding a shiver to the phantom pain.
Gekk, wearing peacemaker armor as usually, looked up at him. “Makin’ you uneasy, eh? Not knowin’ what the deal is?” Lugard knew Gekk well enough to suspect a grin under the helmet.
“Enough to make my hands hurt.” Lugard looked awkwardly at the metal prosthetics. “I did do some digging. The next speaker, a certain Frigg, he’s named as a Cryptozoologist, whatever that means, you’re paying him a respectable amount of money to fund his research.”
“See, you have all you need to know. Sometimes you are as dumbwitted as your nickname suggests Skrittlike. And now shush, his talk begins!” The Asura shifted his view to the stage.
The last few stragglers returned from their break to reclaim their seats as Lugard brooded in silence. Why had Gekk left Lion's Arch, during the Mad King’s Reign of all times!, to visit a convention of crackheads talking about creatures from children's books?
The host of the event, an asura whose most prominent feature was a concerning lack of any defining features, waddled up once again to announce the next talk. Seven Truths about the Demicentaur, by Frigg.
The Asura that now took the stage fit the descriptor Cryptozoologist quite well. Clad in ragged, earthy brown leather, decorated with what looked like roots from afar, or maybe some animal tails, he could’ve appeared as the cryptid in any of the other talks. Additionally he had brought at least the beginning of zoo with him, as there was a devourer following at his heel.
“The Demicentaur-,” Frigg started, then interrupted himself almost immediately, “Good evening everyone of course. The Demicentaur, or Horse, as it is colloquially known, is one of my favourite cryptids. For one it is a very old one for one of non-Asuran origin, I will get back to that in a bit, and it is intricately connected to my favourite extratyrestrial lifeform. Humans.”
A few chuckles echoed through the hall. Lugard was grateful for his mask as he felt Gekks gaze judging his reaction. To be fair it had taken him a few moments to remember that the Six had brought humans with them to Tyria. It’s not something that comes up in everyday life.
“Now there is a widely used joke about us Cryptologists that says there is only one thing we can agree on, and that is that we can’t agree on anything.” Many heads nodded. “That is why I have spent the last six months with chasing the few solid truths I could find. Now I’ve had the great luck to have a sponsor that allowed me to divert more of my time towards this topic, but as many of you know me, I could and would have done this research alongside my usual work, and there is nothing stopping anyone here from going out and double checking my findings.”
Again a large part of the audience nodded in approval. Lugard leaned over to Gekk, “So you are paying for this guys hobby so he can tell you something about horses?”
“Shh!” Gekk rudely answered, “Just listen”
“Now for the facts: To begin with, first mentions of Demicentaurs in the Grand Archives are from around 1100 AE, where they are mentioned as mighty warbeasts of past ages. The quality of the translations has been subject of many debates. Of note however is that horses appear in human literature from that time, however not in that of the charr.”
Lugard again leaned over to Gekk. “The Grand Archive? Is he talking about the Durmand Priory?”
“‘Course not. Too many bookahs had their hands on those books,” Gekk chuckled, “ But chances are they’d have the books he’s referencing. Just ain’t proper etiquette to cite from outside sources.”
“So it’s a formality thing? Non Asuran sources aren’t scientifically sound so you have to cite only Asura?” Lugard inquired.
“Aye.” Gekk answered nonchalantly.
“Next Truth,” Frigg had begun to walk up and down the stage, “The contemporary depiction of horses by humans, often as so called jousting knights, a carnival attraction, is similar to Cavalry employed by desert dwelling civilisations of today’s tyria. Both humans in Elona as well as hylek tribes in and around the maguuma wastes have mounted troops armed with long spears.”
“Factoid number four: And I know some of you,” Frigg pointed at a person in the front row, “Some of you will be quite disappointed in me for including oral sources. And to you I say: GET LOST!”
Frigg took a short pause, then continued like he never got loud, “Centaurs tell stories of a monster, the name gets mangled in translation, but the closest I could come up with is dread mount. It is a story about a centaur who makes a pact with a mysterious foreigner, or sometimes a demon, described with very human characteristics. The specifics vary widely, however in the end the centaur is a slave of the foreigner, deprived of their humanity and turned into nothing more than an animal.”
“The centaurs themself claim that the story is ancient, mostly citing names of characters that sound different for those they use. In one particular telling I heard the elder later explained that the mentioned centaur tribe had fled Elona.”
Two new Asura appeared on the stage, pulling several metal frames holding painted animal skins. Frigg turned towards it, “Next truth: We have graphic depictions of the dread mount. These look similar in stature to the jousting knights, and don’t appear to possess any signs that they would be a predatory animal. No claws like the elonian raptor mounts or chitin platin like hylek warbeetles. From my, albeit limited, understanding they are almost useless in combat, apart from their ability to carry a rider.”
“That was the amount of knowledge we had until very recently. The ability to travel to and from Elona, as well as the defeat of Palawa Joko, however lead to a great many discoveries. Including further information on horses, indicating that they were brought to elona with settlers from Cantha.”
“This is revolutionary!” Frigg gesticulated widely, “The fossil record clearly shows that centaurs originate from the tyrian continent. If horses did indeed come from Cantha to Elona it eliminates the possibility of them being descendants from one another. Convergent evolution seems to be the only remaining explanation for their similarities.”
“Finally, as we now know that horses came to Elona from Cantha, we have a rough time frame when they disappeared, with the human settlement of Elona around 200 years before their gods’ exodus, and the conquest of Ascalon around 100 years later. It is of course unsure whether horses disappeared entirely in this time, or were simply not brought to Ascalon for whatever reason.”
“My personal theory, and with this we depart from the hard truths,” “is that horses came through the mists, brought along by humans from wherever they and their gods originate from.”
“This concludes my talk,” Frigg finished, though almost unhearable through the noise that filled the hall now. In an effort to still be heard, he shouted; “I will not be taking questions right now, I thank you for lending me your ears.”
Lugard looked again to Gekk, who had now removed his helmet, a risk he rarely took. The Asura was smiling most contently while his ears were raised up like sails, twitching every time someone new shouted into the now loudly discussing mass of listeners.
Lugard too had to raise his voice quite a bit when he asked Gekk: “You like seeing them argue over trivial things, right? Your sponsorship is the breadcrumb thrown into the henhouse.”
“Finally you figured it out! Though I did find this talk at least somewhat interesting.” Gekk patted Lugard’s shoulder, then put his helmet back on. “Go and get our package from councillor Dann while I have some fun, will you?”
Lugard nodded silently and left the lecture hall, dodging two brawling Asura. In the background he heard a familiar, though somewhat muffled, voice. “And what about the Hippianic Bone Shift?!”
For @tyrias-library ‘library’ prompt I wanted to do something a little cute; here’s Librarian Ink remarking on some of the library’s guests, featuring characters from @cousinslavellan, @miragecounseling, @likemesomesalads, @canid-slashclaw, @brax-was-here, @maximoor, @sylvari-bouquet, and @duskroots. I wanted to do so many more buuut... maybe next time. Also I hope its okay I put all those characters in here!
The warm, dusty scent of books greeted the Librarian when she opened the doors, small brass key clicking faintly in the ornate lock. It was dim inside the building, the high windows just barely catching the rising sun and filtering the light through lazy rays. Everything was still in the shadows, and silent.
She shut the door behind her, no longer jumping at the disturbance to the quiet like she had long ago. The solitude and vast halls of the library were as familiar as her home now; maybe more so, her home often left empty and untended while she spent her days here. She knew nothing lurked in the corners or high in the stacks of books. There were no monsters or intruders beyond the covers of books, and nothing to be frightened of.
Her footfalls echoed off the walls and distant ceiling until she finished lighting the torches scattered about and settled at her desk. It was large — too large for her small frame, evidenced by the pile of pillows set on the chair — but somehow never quite large enough for the stacks of work she had to sift through. This morning it was queries over the location and availability of certain books, many of which would involve double checking the stacks before responding.
It would be a busy day, judging by the height of the paperwork. The Librarian allowed herself only one small sigh, then got to work.
As the day progressed visitors came and went. Between her paperwork the Librarian watched them, at times carefully, others with just passing, knowing glances.
There was the sylvari researching dragons, her expression serious while she asked for the oldest books the library had. She was careful with them, the Librarian was grateful to see, turning each page like it held the secret to saving the world. Only once did her lips curve to a smile; the moment when she set the books aside and looked up at the colored glass windows and the light playing over the endless rows of books.
An asura, smaller even than the Librarian, spent the afternoon searching for something. When questioned she wouldn’t reveal what, and only smiled, an alarmingly playful look in her silver eyes. The hem of her skirt — sylvari made, but finely tailored to fit her, swished around corners, almost hiding the small minions that followed her.
A young, by what she could determine, pair of sylvari were frequent guests of the library. Sent on Priory business, the two of them could often be found wandering the stacks, or tucked away at some lonely table. Now and again the larger of the two’s voice could be heard rising above the silence, excited and exuberant. The Librarian had learned there was no need to reprimand him; his partner quietly shushed him, or ended his speech with a kiss.
A more unlikely couple came seeking books on prominent inter-species relations. The charr didn’t seem to have an inside voice, and by the shifting from foot to foot appeared to be uncomfortable in the quiet space. The human handled the search like he already knew where the books were located, but asked just to be polite. They stuck close to each other, and the Librarian noticed soft, tender touches shared between them from time to time.
One guest in particular gave the Librarian a shock when she looked up from her work. Standing some distance away was a familiar sylvari, one who had been rumored to be dead, but was very much living and breathing in the hall of the library. She was nothing like the Librarian expected, simply courteous and a touch melancholy. Once she found the book she sought she left, no wake of destruction following behind, only silence.
A human woman, a deep, jagged scar running across her eye, came in shortly after. She spent a long time pouring over a single book, turning the pages only after deep consideration. The Librarian brought her a mug of coffee after an hour had passed, setting it down near her elbow and leaving her to her studies and struggles.
One of the Librarian’s favored visitors stopped by as well. The tall sylvari, always soft spoken and considerate, sometimes brought her a small gem leftover from hir work. She kept them hidden in her desk, along with various ofter things that made her smile. Today ze a friend along, another sylvari, this one pink and touched by some magic that left wings sprouting from her back. The two of them went about their searching and studying, sometimes discussing mattes together in hushed voices.
There were more guests, too; a slow trickle through the morning that gathered speed throughout the day. The Librarian took note of them all, saving each face in her memory. They were all as precious to her as the books she watched over; just as diverse and as awe-inspiring in their own ways.
When the last one left for the day the Librarian shut the large doors, turned the key in the lock. She smiled out across the empty hall, peaceful and silent once again. Tomorrow would bring more visitors, and again the next day. They would all be welcome here, whenever they needed it.
Do you find yourself suddenly accompanied by strange, walking plants? Do you find yourself utterly filled with questions about these plants? Congratulations! Given that these plants are not choya, aggressive mushrooms with legs, or a piece of actual celery you assume has sentience after attempting to consume said aggressive mushrooms with legs, you have very likely met a Sylvari!
Due to overwhelming amount of unwanted questions request, here are the answers to some of the most frequently asked questions!
Q: What is a sylvari?
A: I don't know, what is a human? Do you want philosophy? A sylvari is a sentient being, much like any human is, but made mostly of plant matter and magic.
Q: Where did you come from?
A: With very few exceptions as of this date, Sylvari originate in Tyria, in a place called the Grove. The Grove is located relatively close to the Maguuma jungle, East of Rata Sum, and South of Divinity's reach, and is sculpted between and in the branches and roots of the Pale Tree- the singular tree from which the vast majority of sylvari sprout.
Q: Can you eat food?
A: Why is this always the third question you ask? Why do you need to know? Yes. We can also digest it. Please do not ask us to demonstrate repeatedly over the course of five days. This is why we don't talk to you. as it makes things incredibly awkward.
Q: Are all sylvari necromancers?
A: No. Sylvari have just as wide a range of abilities and magical attunement as you do.
Q: Are sylvari agents of Joko?
A: Why? Why would you think that? We just got here a month ago and most of us didn't know he existed why would we even No.
Q: Can sylvari talk to other plants?
A: Only when we're very very lonely No. The closest we get is the vaguest feeling of a plant's energy, which tends to be about as vague as its smell, and is overall rather unhelpful in most cases.
Q: Can sylvari make crops grow better?
A: Some can, though not all. Some sylvari are capable of building entire structures solely from vegetation. Others try and accidentally set them on fire instead. Still, plants cannot grow without proper nutrition and water.
Q: Why haven't I heard of Sylvari before?
A: In all likelihood, it is because sylvari have only existed since how old is trahearne again 1302AE, or, by the date of this publication, 28 years!
Q: Can sylvari reproduce?
A: Why would you phrase it like that? Why would you ask that in the middle of a crowded street? What is wrong with you, stop it As of this publication, no. Please for mother's sake do not take that as a challenge I will stab you in the knees do not press the issue around strangers.
Q: Can sylvari drink?
A: Yes. And still wipe the floor with you afterwards. [Please stop threatening people in the introductory pamphlet]
Q: Are all sylvari this aggressive?
A: We certainly aren't deaf. Generally, no. Many sylvari are characterized by curiosity and, especially in the young, some level of innocence. Still, exceptions to this are fairly common. Some of us have simply been around long enough to know better. [Rem you’re seven years old are you okay]
Q: I heard sylvari are servants of an elder dragon. Is that true?
A: Unfortunately, it was, but the elder dragon in question is dead, so this is no longer something any of us have to worry about! However, it is appreciated that you avoid bringing up the topic, as it tends to bring up a whole lot of trauma tends to be a sensitive subject. And I'm pretty sure helping to kill the d[[l]/[ snake proves our allegiances, now doesn't it?
Q: Do sylvari have families?
A: Yes, though perhaps not in the ways you're thinking. Many sylvari will call each other siblings, as they all share the same Mother, but many will form their own families by themselves- sometimes, even with other races. Look, sometimes a family is four plants, an oversized cat and a very small and cute dragon, that's just how life is. Sylvari are never quite children, however, and awaken [probably not the best word to use here] enter the waking world fully formed, physically adults, already having attained enough information from the Dream- primarily the collected knowledge and memories of other sylvari- to function more-or-less properly in the rest of Tyria. Sylvari are not yet known to age physically. Just gain trauma.
Q: Why are you so small?
A: Why are you so tall? Why are charr covered in fur? Why are you so keen on knowing whether or not I can digest food? The world will never know. [You have to actually answer the questions, Rem.] Sylvari, much like humans, come in several shapes and sizes! In fact, many sylvari are able to intentionally modify their own appearance. This is generally a rather slow process, however, and takes both time and energy.
Q: Do sylvari have taste?
A: Better taste than your sous chef. Indeed they do! Many sylvari have even chosen to become chefs for this and other reasons. And most of them are probably better sous chefs.
Q: What is a cycle?
A: None of you have ever asked this, I just wanted to make sure it was clear beforehand. A sylvari’s cycle most simply depends on when they were born! There are night cycle, noon cycle, dawn cycle, and dusk cycle sylvari. Though there are again, of course, exceptions, sylvari will tend towards certain attributes based on these cycles. For example, those of the noon cycle are more prone towards combat and actions and words, those of the dawn cycles tend to be natural diplomats, those of the dusk cycle are drawn towards intellectual pursuits, and those of the night cycle tend towards secrecy. Therefore, it is simple enough to deduce that if you felt the need to ask more questions, a dawn cycle sylvari would likely be more willing to answer them than a night cycle sylvari. If they’re handing you this pamphlet, chances are they’re a night or noon cycle sylvari. From personal experience, we need them. You lot are more insensitively curious than certain asura sometimes.
An important note: The night cycle and the nightmare court have no correlation whatsoever.
Q: Can sylvari sense the amount of poison in a plant?
A: No. Unfortunately, we have to discover that information the same way anyone else does. Testing them on sous chefs. [Rem what do you have against the sous chef?]
Q: Can sylvari bleed?
A: Is that a threat? That sounds like a threat. I’m marking you under ‘very possibly suspicious’. Yes. Technically, a sylvari bleeds a sort of sap rather than blood, but there isn’t much functional difference. Definitely tastes different, though. [I’m hesitant to ask how you know this.]
Q: Are sylvari related to choya?
A: Only Canach No. [Kormir help me.]
Q: If I have more burning incessant annoying questions to ask, where should I go to find answers?
A: Literally anyone else As mentioned before, there are sylvari who are skilled in diplomacy! The easiest way to find answers to your questions would be to find a Pact representative and present your problems request for knowledge. There is almost certainly someone available to excitedly answer your questions! Pretty big chance that it’ll be someone from the priory who will keep talking about it for five hours straight, but I guess I can’t fault them for being excited about something. It really is sort of nice to listen to- especially if you bring snacks. Unless they steal all of your snacks. Okay sometimes even if they steal all of your snacks just bring more of them and you’ll be fine, the smile on their face is worth it anyways. Also if you find out that it’s trahearne tell him he’s supposed to be retired, I know he’s worried but he really really needs to be resting right now and I can be just as worried back
A first draft, written in 1330, shortly after Pact arrival in Elona
For the first prompt of the Tyria’s Library anniversary event. This was meant to be a short story, but it turns out a story in three parts isn’t going to be short.
“This one, this one!”
The young Jura Ogawe bounded back towards his parents, heedless of the heavy sigh that came from a librarian giving up on quiet in the children’s section. His father came to meet him, shushing him with a wink as he reached for the book Jura had picked out.
“Alright son, what do you have there?”
Jura’s mother laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder as she came up behind him and peered at the cover.
“King Joko the Implaccable versus the Wurm of Ronjok?” she read, raising both eyebrows as she did.
Her son grinned, practically bouncing where he stood. “It has pictures! Of the battle!”
“Illustrated by Vinanda Bayet,” Jura’s father noted with increasing amusement, “whose artistic career has apparently taken a few turns since that palace ceiling fresco up north.”
He handed the book back to Jura, who immediately opened it and began looking eagerly at the pictures. Beyond his notice, Jura’s mother drew her husband aside for a quiet word.
“Do we really want him reading things like that?” she asked. “Today it’s how King Joko saved Kourna from a rampaging sand wurm, but tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow he’ll being going to school anyway,” Jura’s father pointed out softly. “Better that he be reading the same books and playing the same games as every other child. We agreed –”
“- that is was safer for him. I know.” She sighed, even more wearily than the librarian had. “It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
He gathered his wife up in his arms. “We’ll talk to him when he’s older,” he murmured for her ears only. “When he can understand the risks. It may be harder when the time comes, but at least Jura will live to see it.”
She nodded against his chest. “And may Grenth give me the strength to endure ten more years of those gods-forsaken books.”
Jura’s father chuckled, and Jura’s mother shook with her own muffled laughter as he hugged her tighter, and Jura obliviously dropped to sit and read his book with wide, uncritical eyes.
* * *
Much older, and alone, Jura flicked through pages irritably now and the swishing sound of paper drawing a few eyes to him. That was the problem with libraries – quiet enough that the slightest irritation was noticed – but he was beyond caring about etiquette today.
It was more of the same. Tehelo was one of King Joko’s favourite biographers (of many) and it was starting to become obvious why. Every paragraph contained another overblown description with too many adjectives, not to mention comparisons to events in the author’s other works so that every battle and feat of magic was cross-referenced. The sycophantic quality of the writing, however, was not what was frustrating Jura.
This happened in my lifetime, he thought. The dragon Zhaitan, an ancient power that could raise the dead… as nothing but shells for its will, less than the simplest Awakened. Or so he had always believed. In Vabbi they had been taught that the dragon roamed the seas to the west from its lair on the risen island of Orr, making it impossible to cross to other continents. Elona was a last bastion of safety, the sulphurous Desolation a barrier against draconic doom. But then…
He flicked back to the beginning of the chapter. 1326 AE: the slaying of Zhaitan. The way Tehelo told it, someone suggested in King Joko’s hearing that the elder dragon must be the greatest necromancer the world had ever known. Annoyed at the comment the Eternal King had harnessed a mighty mount and travelled all the way to Orr to strike down Zhaitan and prove once and for all that Joko was the greatest master of necromancy in the history of Tyria and only true commander of the dead. The book, Jura noted, did not mention anything about the fate of the person who had insulted the king.
But none of this made sense as it should. 1326 was only a few years ago; if King Joko was setting out to slay an elder dragon, it was inconceivable that he would do it without full splendour, tribute and boasting. Jura remembered nothing of the sort. He remembered hearing stories about Kralkatorrik (how King Joko had allowed the dragon to send its crystal minions into a Vabbian palace that had blasphemed against him, then stood and commanded it to leave the rest of his kingdom untouched) – but Zhaitan had hardly been mentioned. Until King Joko had proclaimed he had destroyed it.
“This isn’t –” he began out loud, but it wasn’t the glare of a nearby librarian that made him finish the thought in silence. None of this is right.
* * *
The sun of the afternoon beat down hot, but Jura was new enough to Amnoon that it still felt like paradise. There was shade both natural and artificial, water when he needed it, gardens unlike anything he’d seen since leaving the halls of Vabbi behind. And he wasn’t wearing armour, which made the heat significantly more bearable. It had been days before he had really felt comfortable going out without armour, but today he felt almost normal in a shirt with a sash, loose pants and sandals.
And a sword. He’s left his ragged shield behind, but he wasn’t going to abandon all sense just because he was in a city again.
Today he was strolling into the surrounding farmland, marvelling at the freedom with which he passed in and out and the decidedly alive cavaliers who nodded to him on his way past. There were people at work here, tending the land and maintaining a marvel of an irrigation system whose workings Jura didn’t yet understand. There were refugees, too, as there seemed to be on every inch of the roads here, and the priests that aided and escorted them. As Jura walked past two priests of Kormir who were poring over a book together, he had to stop and look again at the huge figure his eyes had skimmed over next to them.
The man was easily two feet taller than Jura, and certainly twice as wide at the shoulder. He wore a beard in two braids and a dusty blue robe within which he seemed to be cooking, though he had the sense to have the hood up against the sun. His skin, from what Jura could see, would not have taken kindly to it otherwise.
Jura’s surprise much have shown more than he realised, because the giant man chuckled and gave him a wave. Curious, Jura wandered over.
“Ahai, friend,” the stranger said in a deep voice. “Let me guess; first time meeting a norn?”
“Ah… I suppose it must be. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with… your people,” Jura replied carefully. “I hope that doesn’t cause you offence.”
The norn gave a dismissive wave, then wiped his brow with his sleeve for good measure. “Not at all. We’re not native to these parts, in case that wasn’t obvious.” He chuckled at his own expense. “I prefer the cold, if I’m being honest. Though your city and its harbour are truly lovely!”
“Not my city,” Jura said automatically, then “although… I’m not sure where is, now.” He didn’t want to get into that, so he quickly moved on. “Where are you from then, sir norn?”
He broke into a true smile. “The Shiverpeaks! Great, snowy mountains full of fearsome beasts and majestic sights. Far away, I’m afraid, across the sea. But I’m here as a representative of the Durmand Priory, and the sharing of knowledge is an adventure I will tolerate your devastating sun for.”
The norn gestured at the cart behind him, and Jura’s eye widened momentarily. It was a wagon of sorts with hinged and shuttered sides, currently latched open to show rows of neatly shelved books. Seeing his expression, the norn chuckled again and invited him to take a look.
“The Ossa Legacy… Three Lands, One Sun… An Unauthorised History of the Order of Whispers,” he read aloud.
“We put that one in there just to annoy them,” the norn admitted with a wink.
“I’ve never heard of any of these,” Jura said wonderingly. Then, quashing the wonder from his voice, “and you say these are true histories?”
To Jura’s surprise, the response was a shrug rather than a sales pitch. “No history is ever really a true history. They’re all biased in one way or another.”
“Some more than others,” Jura noted with a touch of bitterness.
“True,” the norn acknowledged. “But these are from our scholars’ collections. Think of them as versions of history told by people who left these lands hundreds of years ago.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before Jura ventured, “may I… read a little?”
“Of course!” The man looked pleased, and it was hard to stay suspicious of him when his emotions seemed so free and genuine. “As long as you don’t take anything away or, say, throw it in a ditch, you’re welcome to read as long as you like.”
Jura, discovering he did not have the words to express everything he was feeling in that moment, made a bow instead and picked a book off the shelf at random. Within seconds he was sitting under a nearby awning, devouring every new piece of knowledge he could find.
Have a fluffy bit of Logan, for today’s @tyrias-library prompt!
Friendship
“It never gets any easier, does it?”
The commander jumped in surprise, scrambling back from the ledge she’d been perched on. Her knee bumped the bottle next to her on the stonework and she fumbled to catch it before it went rolling away. “Logan! Don’t scare a girl like that, gods.”
Logan chuckled as he stepped out from behind the column that had hidden his approach.
She resettled herself, legs dangling over the ancient dwarven stonework and laced her fingers back around the mug she was holding, “How did you manage to find me?”
“Remember when Lieutenant Dermot reprimanded you for abandoning your post to save a wondering moa, and I found you moping in Flynn’s apple tree? You always brood high.”
“... I am not brooding.”
Mindful of exactly how high above the barracks of Thunderhead Keep they were, he carefully sat down next to the commander. “You’d have every right to brood if you choose to.”
She picked up the bottle, quietly refilled her mug and then passed it to Logan, “Maybe I’m brooding a little. Apologies, Marshall.”
“Forgiven, Commander.” He accepted the bottle with a smirk and took a drink, smacking his lips in an undignified manner.
“It’s .. a lot you know.” From this vantage point, she could see most of the keep spread out before her. Rows upon rows of tents, such a mad mix of peoples - the charr legions, Awakened, Olmakhan, hunters from Hoelbrak, corsairs from Elona and countless, countless Pact. All here to defeat a dragon, to keep the world from unmaking. All unified under one banner: hers. She took a long drink, exhaled slowly, “Should have stayed in that apple tree.”
“It is a lot. A lot more than tracking charr movements in Ascalon, a lot more than sorting scrolls in the Priory, a lot more than following orders.” Logan took another drink as well, his frown mirroring hers, “A lot more than just protecting the queen.”
Lys swayed to the side, bumping her shoulder against Logan’s. He turned to look at her curiously, brow arched and she gave him a wry grin, “It never gets any easier, Marshall.”
“It does, though.” This time she arched a brow as he continued, “You’re not in this fight alone, Lys. We’re all here, the whole Pact is behind you. Your friends are at your side. None of us are going down without a fight.”
“And if I fail? You all go down with me. The whole world goes down with me.”
He sighed. “We’re all pieces of a greater whole, every one of us.” Logan leaned to the side as well, nudging Ly’s shoulder in response. “We do our part, we help each other up when we stumble, we lift our shields where it’s needed. We’ve got your back.”
“You know …” She considered him a long moment, how different the man next to her was than the bullheaded mercenary she’d met so long ago, different even from the hard-edged Seraph Captain she’d known him as for years, “... Dylan would be proud of you.”
Logan sputtered, shook his head as he looked away from her.
She chuckled, gave him an affectionate shove, “I’ve got your back too, you know.”
“I know.” He laughed sheepishly, “You have since the day we met.”
“I couldn’t help it.” She glanced sidelong at Logan, grinning slowly, “You were kind of cute all covered in mud and angry sputtering, as lost as the day is long.”
“I was not lost.”
Lys drained the last of her drink and then rose to her feet, dusting herself off, “You were so lost! You were going the exact opposite way from the stronghold.” She offered him her hand.
“I was … scouting.” He accepted it, clasping her hand tightly as he stood up,
She began to make her way down the narrow path, “No, I was scouting. You were lost.”
He released her hand, flexed his fingers as he followed close behind her, “I knew exactly where I was going, thank you. I just didn’t know where I was.”
The newly fallen snow gently blanketed the streets of Divinity’s Reach. The feeling of holiday celebration filled the air as children played and citizens decorated their homes for the Wintersday tradition. The Crown Pavilion was completely transformed into a winter wonderland as the people anticipated the arrival of Tixx the Toymaker and his giant Infinitarium. Ceara stood in front of a shop window that was filled with toys and gadgets for children. A small asuran golem hovered in the display, adorned with blinking wintersday lights. A light wind blew causing the snowflakes to dance playfully around her. The cold air didn’t bother her so much; she had endured worse living in a cave in the mountains of Lornar’s Pass for some months with a furnace that only worked periodically.
“Wintersday,” she whispered to herself. She thought back to the last time she gave a gift to someone. It was actually a bomb sent to the dragonslayer. She closed her eyes for a moment.
“A gold for your thoughts?” a voice said next to her. Her eyes snapped open to see a gloved hand holding a gold coin. She glanced up to see who the hand was attached to – a light blue sylvari with purple foliage grown into two pigtails. Ceara narrowed her eyes, recognizing her. She glanced back at the window, noticing the reflection of the thief's twin, the warden Faelyn, standing not far behind them.
“Faeyin,” Ceara muttered, snatching the coin from the sylvari thief’s hand.
“Whoa, I think you burned my fingertips, secondborn,” Faeyin quipped, pretending to blow smoke off her hands.
“Money doesn’t come easy for some, thief,” Ceara replied, pocketing the coin.
“So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind? That was what I paid for.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well, Faelyn noticed you standing here by yourself, looking like you were out of fruitcake.”
“What do you make of this Wintersday tradition?”
“It’s amazing!” Faelyn said excitedly. “Everyone is so kind and generous! Exchanging gifts freely. Helping the less fortunate!”
“Less fortunate,” Ceara muttered.
Faeyin paused, looking at Ceara. “Yes, sister!” Faeyin held out her hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something!” she said beaming. Ceara looked at her, also throwing a quick glance at Faelyn, then back at the thief.
“Show me.”
Faeyin lead the trio behind the buildings, and began scaling some pipes.
“Hey now,” Ceara said, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I haven’t become so desperate that I’ve taken up thieving.”
Faeyin snorted. “Just follow me. There’s no crime involved.”
With some hesitation, Ceara began scaling the pipes as well, with Faelyn silently following behind. She was wary, but if the warden was following the thief, then this probably was the innocent excursion her younger sister had promised.
They reached the top of the pipes and crawled over to stand near the ledge overlooking the street they had been on just a few moments before. The city of Divinity’s Reach spread out before them in sparkling winter’s majesty. It was peaceful and a much-needed balm for Ceara’s nerves.
“What do you see, Ceara?”
“Um, the city.”
“No, look deeper.”
Ceara drew a deep breath and slowly scanned the horizon. Not sure what the thief was getting at, she sighed and said, “Well it is peaceful and lovely.”
“That it is. But there is more. If you look closely, you can see the different architecture, dress, and even varieties of humans that make up this amazing place. Humans are an ancient race, and this city was founded by people who came from all over Tyria. Cantha, Elona, Ascalon. They have endured so much, and they have not only survived, they thrive. This bustling city would not be possible without the resilient nature of humans. Without their drive to overcome.”
“Well that’s, uh, really poetic of you. Why are you telling me this?”
“I tell you this because you need to know that what the dragon forced you to do is not the first, last, or even worse things that humans have or will endure. And there is going to have to come a time when you quit torturing yourself.”
Ceara was very quiet as she continued to look out over the city. The thief and the warden stood in silence, Faeyin with a satisfied smile on her face. She turned then, back towards the pipes.
“Come on! If the race that endured The Seering can find some cheer, so can you!”
Faeyin grabbed Ceara’s hand, which Ceara snatched away from her. Faeyin looked at her with playful disdain. “Now is not the time for grumpiness, secondborn,” she said, smiling widely. Faeyin led her down the street, stopping at a vendor along the way.
“A warm drink to soothe the chill for you young ladies today?” the vendor asked, casting a wary eye as he recognized Ceara.
“Why yes, Merchant! I’ll have a hot cocoa for myself,” Faeyin said gleefully. “And you need not worry about my dear sister here. The past is past and she’s here to celebrate Wintersday,” she continued. “Now what will you have?”
“A warm winterberry ale, please.”
“Really? Ale at this time of day?” Faeyin chided.
“Well, yes. Why not? You said I should celebrate.”
“I’m sorry, miss. I don’t serve ale here,” the merchant said.
“Oh well, I’ll just have a hot cocoa as well.”
“And you miss?” the merchant asked over them to Faelyn.
“A coffee for me. Dark, please,” Faelyn ordered. The merchant fixed their drinks, exchanging the mugs for coins that Faeyin produced from a satchel.
“The merchant recognized me,” Ceara said sipping from the mug.
“He’s not going to do anything. If the Seraph question, you’re here with us. Besides, I’m sure the Shining Blade already knows you’re here.”
“So where are we going?”
“We’re going to visit some children.”
“Children?” Ceara asked.
“Yep!” Faeyin replied, as she started humming a playful tune to herself. Before long, the trio approached one of the gates to the Salma district of Divinity’s Reach. Ceara could feel the eyes of the Seraph guards watching her as they passed through the gate.
“And here we are!” Faeyin exclaimed as they approached a fenced off area that had children playing gleefully in the snow.
“The orphanage,” Ceara muttered.
“Mmhmm,” Faeyin said reaching into her satchel. “Priestess, please come here a moment,” she called out to a woman dressed in ornate robes who was watching over the children.
“Hail travelers, what can I do for you today?” she asked warmly, approaching the women.
“Here, use this for the children you have here. Try to find them the most wonderful gifts that you can.” Faeyin handed her a pouch that jingled when it dropped into the priestess’ hand.
“By the six!” she said, opening the pouch. It was full of gold and silver coins. She looked up at Faeyin as if in shock. “May the gods bless you!” Faeyin nodded and turned to Ceara as the priestess rushed off.
“You steal from the rich to give to the poor. Seems somewhat ironic for a thief,” Ceara said to Faeyin.
“Does it?”
“And you let her get away with it, warden?” Ceara asked, turning to Faelyn
“Sadly, yes, and technically I’m not a warden anymore. I stepped down from that post a while ago,” Faelyn replied.
“Now, dear sister, we have someplace else to visit,” Faeyin said, beaming.
“Your cheerfulness is somewhat disturbing,” Ceara said to her.
“Well, it seems the grump is vast in you this day, secondborn,” Faeyin smiled. Ceara heard a stifled chuckle from Faelyn behind them. “Now, let’s go!” Faeyin grabbed Ceara’s hand again, who instinctively pulled away. Faeyin shook her hand playfully, acting as if her fingers had caught fire.
Before they could get too far from the orphanage, something solid hit Ceara on the back of her head.
“Unfh!” Ceara grunted, startled by what just happened. As she reached behind her, she discovered that what had hit her was cold and wet. Her sisters were hooting with laughter, as were the children behind her. The priestess, however, was mortified.
“Children! That is no way to treat our guests! You apologize at once.” The children looked down, ashamed, and began to apologize to Ceara. Faeyin, however, raised a calming hand to the priestess, just as a snowball flew past her to hit one of the children.
Faeyin turn to see Ceara flash an impish smile and a mischievous glance at her, and then Ceara turned to the children. “Oh, you’re all in big, big trouble now!” she announced playfully. She scooped up a snowball and threw it towards the children, hitting one of them on their retreating backside. Peals of laughter rang out from the yard as the three sylvari women had a rousing snowball fight with the children. Faelyn used a pile of firewood as cover, while Ceara and Faeyin dodged and rolled around the snow to the delight of the children. Once they were all exhausted, the women wished the children a Happy Wintersday and Faeyin waved over a hot chocolate vendor.
Slipping him a couple gold coins she said, “Give the little ones whatever they want. They gave us a good fight today!”
The children rushed to the vendor, shouting their thanks. Faeyin beamed with glee as they walked further into the Salma District.
“You really love the children, don’t you.” Ceara remarked.
“Oh I do! They are extraordinary.” Faeyin was quiet a moment and said, “Can you imagine if it were that way for sylvari? If we were born as babies, and grew? And were able to have our innocence protected and embraced by older sylvari while we had a childhood under their watchful care?”
“Why Faeyin, what has you so melancholy all of a sudden?”
“I think of it often, especially when I am around human and norn children. I think of Riannoc, and other sylvari who had their innocence and naivete exploited. Who were betrayed by others for their cruel ends.”
Ceara was very quiet then, for she knew what her sister was thinking but not saying. She felt very warm then, and felt a fondness for Faeyin and her quiet twin that she hadn’t felt before.
“Thank you for the day. It has been lovely, and I enjoyed our time with the children very much.”
Faeyin smiled broadly, “Why look! You are capable of cheer!”
Ceara smiled and waved them goodbye as the trio split ways. She walked alone in her thoughts for several blocks through the twisting streets of Divinity’s Reach, the solemn song of a nearby caroling group echoed between the buildings. She paused momentarily, taking in the music. She thought of what Faeyin had said to her on the rooftop.
“Maybe someday I’ll be able to, thief,” she muttered to herself. Sighing deeply she continued on her way until her hands were so cold she could hardly stand it. Spying an inn that she knew must have her beloved winterberry ale, she stepped inside. It was dark and quiet, quite a contrast to the festive nature outside, and it was just what she needed.
She chose a stool away from the others and soon the warm ale was filling her from fingertips to toes. She held the warm cup in her fingers, inhaling the heady perfume of the brew. She was contemplating ordering some dinner when a man, a young human man, sat down next to her.
“Excuse me, miss, I don’t mean to intrude. I was just wondering if you had a couple coins to spare so I could get something warm to drink.” He was shy, and Ceara could tell he was embarrassed. She could also tell he was shaking from the cold and possible hunger.
“Of course! Do you like warm winterberry ale?” He nodded sheepishly. “Barkeep, another for me and one for my friend.”
“I appreciate you very much, miss. May the six watch over you.” He gave a polite bow of his head.
“You’re quite welcome, and my name is Ceara,” she smiled warmly at him.
“I’m Nicholas.” He looked at her shyly and smiled, blushing on his cheeks.
The barkeep brought their drinks and Ceara said, “Good sir, my friend and I will also be dining here tonight. Give us two of whatever you have on special.”
“Oh miss, thank you, but you don’t have to do that….”
“It’s Ceara and I will do as I please.” She winked at him and he flushed crimson.
“T-thank you, miss, I mean, Ceara. You are most kind,”
Soon Ceara and Nicholas were feasting on crusty bread, soft cheese, and the best lamb stew she had ever tasted. They spoke little, but from his story she was able to gather that Nicholas had a business venture that didn’t quite work out for him, and now he was trying to get back on his feet. As he spoke, she took inventory of him. Tattered clothes. Holes in his coat. No scarf or hat. Gloves that didn’t quite cover his fingers. And judging from his condition, she assumed he had been sleeping outside.
She noticed the sign above the bar indicated that the inn had vacancies, and that it was only two silver a night to stay. An idea flashed in her head and she perked up.
“Nicholas, it has been a delight to meet you and talk to you.”
He flushed again, “Same here, and thank you kindly for your generosity.”
She cupped the gold Faeyin had given her and held it in her closed hand.
“What’s that?”
“Give me your hand.”
He reluctantly held out his hand while she placed both of hers over it.
