#yvelian

[gilded-knight]

Yvelian Everbough

Knight of the Holy Light || The Gilded Guardian

[gilded-knight]

WIP this is actually going to be a full thing with like.. armor & all that. but i figured i would draw the stages of his clothing out, & offer y’all this for v. day. ;) aw yiss. ghoul bites & missing limb. very nice. i hope you’re happy @rebellious-racketeer

[tentaclepriest]

a letter to yvelian everbough

(The letter is written in a large, bold hand. It's also attached to a large bottle of good wine.)

Dear Yvelian,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get back in touch with you. How're you feeling? Reeta told me about your arm; have you gotten your prosthetic yet? She does great work--my brother has a leg from her and you'd never know he lost it if he didn't keep telling the increasingly embellished story. I forget if you drink or not, but please take this bottle of wine anyway. You can cook with it or something.

I also have an embarrassing favor to ask. Reeta and her boyfriend are getting married, which I assure you that I also can't believe, and they want me to perform the wedding. I'm currently studying for my reordination, but I was hoping you might have some tips or pointers or something.

~Rythien Dawnhallow

gilded-knight

[tentaclepriest]

in the name of friendship

The things I do for my friends.

Rythien stalked down the street in his own personal patch of shadow, ears pinned back against his skull. Passers-by gave him wary glances and edged around him; he ignored them. There was a secondhand book store at the end of the block.

'Oh, we're getting married and we'd love for you to perform the ceremony,' and she looks up at me with those big sad eyes and I say yes! Fucking--bullshit, that's what this is. They know I've been defrocked for years, you don't just walk up to the Cathedral of Light Triumphant and say 'hi I'd like my job back!' Stupid--I couldn't resist the fuckin' sad face! It'd be like kicking a puppy and they know it! A quiet growl escaped him as he stepped up to the shop door and shoved it open hard enough to bang against the opposite wall. The cheery bell jingling above it didn't help his mood.

The shopgirl was a young troll woman, and she blinked at the expression on his face as he entered. "How can I help ya, sir?"

He took a deep breath. Right. No taking bad mood out on innocent shopkeeps. "Where do you keep your books on the Light?"

She raised an eyebrow, pointedly eying the way the room's shadows stretched towards him. However, her voice was perfectly professional. "That'd be Aisle Three."

"Thank you." With effort, he banished the shadows and headed for the books.

They turned out to be wedged between an extensive collection of Eternal Sun hymns and a selection of human folklore. Ryth felt his ill humor returning. Today just isn't my day. I should've helped Bill and Seth with the house instead. He considered that possibility. ...Nah. Memories of the last time he'd tried to help were still embarrassingly fresh in his mind, including the moment where he'd tripped over a bucket of paint, cut his shin, wrenched his shoulder grabbing for the banister, and had still sent paint everywhere. He looked over the books with a critical eye, hoping at least one would be something he could use.

If I'm going to talk old High Priest Windchaser into ordaining me again, I'm gonna have to actually know my stuff, and not just bullshit my way through it. He made a face, pulling an ancient-looking copy of St. Theopraxa's Letters off the shelf. That means studying. Again. Ugh, motherfucking Aethan and his fucking grudges, if it hadn't been for him I wouldn't be in this shit now. If I'd known it was going to matter, I would've contested it. Brittle pages crackled faintly as he turned them, flipping through the table of contents. Finding nothing useful, he put it back and pulled out a book so old that the cover lettering had worn off.

Songs of St. Aethariana? Ugh, flowery drivel. Reginald might like it. He tucked it under his arm and picked up a thicker volume. Hymns of the Stratholme Church of the Light...hmm, could be handy. He added it to his selection and frowned at the remaining texts. Aethan owes me for helping with his kid. I could ask him to pull some strings-- "Eurgh." That'd make me as bad as him. Hey, what's this?

He plucked a battered, hefty book from the shelf, squinting at the worn gold leaf that formed the title. Services of the Church of the Light, A Primer? Fuckin' A! This'll definitely help.

As he made his way to the register, his mind buzzed. Not mentioning this to fucking Aethan, but...I might need help anyway. It's been over three years since I even thought about this shit, and they'll be expecting a properly pious priest of the Light. Who do I know who're real pious-- He groaned out loud, and the shopgirl looked at him quizzically.

"Are ya alright, sir?"

He coughed, embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry. Just remembered something. How much do I owe you?"

She frowned at the tags on the books. "That'll be 25 silver for da lot, sir."

He nodded, coming up with the correct change after some rummaging in his pockets. "Thanks, here you go."

Her smile actually seemed genuine as she took his money. "Tanks, sir. Ya have a nice day now!"

"You too."

The books fit neatly into a canvas bag; he hardly noticed the weight as he walked. I gotta send word to Yve and Haestus, it's been way too long since I've talked to them. I hope Yve has his arm by now, and holy fuck I have no clue how Haestus is doing. I am a shit friend. Oughtta send 'em both booze. And then...well, I better grovel for their help.

He took a deep breath. Reeta, Leolo, I hope you appreciate the pain I'm going through for you.

gilded-knight @lives-this-life

[tonightwepartyinhell]

stress tests

Reeta took the stairs two at a time, grateful that Rythien hadn’t actually moved yet. This would be way more annoying if I had to find his ass out in Falconwing. The articulated arm she’d finally put together after shelving her original plan was a heavy weight in the sack on her shoulder.

She hammered on the door, hearing someone moving on the other side. “Mr. Dawnhallow—Rythien! It’s me, Reeta. I need a favor.”

The priest himself yanked the door open, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a frown. “It’s barely even noon yet. Whaddaya want?” He paused, eying her warily. “Light, are you pregnant? I can’t perform your wedding yet, you know that.”

She blinked at him a moment, face heating up. “What—no! It’s for my job, I need you to test an arm. Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.”

Rythien’s apartment generally had an air of barely-controlled clutter, and this morning was no exception. Though Sethrion wasn’t home, evidence of his continued presence was everywhere. Reeta stepped over a discarded sock and settled herself into an armchair, ears twitching. “So how’ve you been?”

Rythien shrugged. “Can’t complain. I’ve been studying, but…well. Considering how I was defrocked, they can’t really just say ‘oh, here’s your old job back.’ There’s all this paperwork and sermonizing and I still have to track down all my old books and that’s besides the work I’ve been doing helping out my niece-in-law’s family—“

Reeta frowned, cutting him off. “Wait, you don’t even have all your books yet?”

He coughed awkwardly. “…I’m working on it. You want coffee?”

It just figures. At this rate I’ll be past my childbearing years by the time I get hitched. Or I’ll have to find someone else to do the ceremony. “Do I look dead to you yet? Of course I want coffee.”

While he ambled into the kitchen, she busied herself setting up her things on a side table. The arm was carefully laid out, along with a wand to channel the proper energies through. I don’t know if Rythien uses wands, but it can’t actually hurt. By the time he returned, she’d cleared off anything flammable from the immediate area, and was frowning at the wrist joint while petting the wolperbunny that had wound up in her lap.

He set her mug down with a clink next to her; his own levitated by his side, which she privately thought was cheating. “Nice work. Who’s it for?”

“Ooh, coffee.” She took a big gulp, savoring the hot sweetness of it, before answering. “Yve. You know him, right, Yvelian?”

“What?!”

The Light of his shock and rage made her jolt, flattening herself back in her chair. “Ack! Um. Yeah. He’s fine, he’ll be fine, it’s okay…look, I’m making him a great new one!”

Rythien sat down heavily, staring at the wooden arm. “Fucking hell, poor Yve. It’s not right, it’s just not—I should send him food or something, sweet holy Light…”

She reached over, patting his arm. “He’s okay, though I bet he’d love hearing from you. Anyway, it’s actually on his behalf that I’m here; I need someone to stress-test the arm.”

He took a deep breath. “…Right. Okay. Whaddaya want me to do?”

After a moment, she shoved her chair back. “I want you to run the Light through the prosthetic, as much as you possibly can. You’ve seen how Light-filled Yvelian is; I need to make sure the spells can withstand so much of it.”

Rythien grimaced. “You might as well dangle it into the Sunwell on a string, but…okay. Sit back, please, I don’t wanna burn you by accident.”

She put her sunglasses on. “Came prepared!”

He actually chuckled briefly at that, but the mood vanished as soon as it came. When he put his hands on the wood, the expression on his face made her swallow nervously. A faint growl reverberated from his chest; that was all the warning she got before the Light ripped forth.

Ow! Her sunglasses provided no protection; even with her eyes squeezed shut, the brightness seared through her closed lids and turned the world red. This is no good, I have to see what happens-- But she didn’t dare open her eyes, not with so much Light pouring out of Rythien’s hands.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, blessed darkness and coolness returned. Rythien’s breathing was ragged. “Sorry. It’s still in one piece, at least?”

She wedged one eye open and then the other, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the arm unscathed. “Thank the Light—pun totally intended.” Her fingers shook a little as she picked up the wand. “Perform sequences 21a through 22b.”

With trembling, mounting relief, she watched as the fingers of the prosthetic flexed.

gilded-knight

[tonightwepartyinhell]

in which reeta experiments

The room Reeta sat in had probably been a study at some point, but she had long since repurposed it as a workroom. Diagrams papered the walls and floated above her battered desk; blocks of wood and coils of wire were neatly stacked and labelled against one wall. Her desk had once been the sort of roll-top affair used by scribes, but she had had Leo nail in a few extra shelves and cubbyholes to hold all her enchanted dusts and shards. Truthfully, she could have worked equally as well with her kit spread out on a blanket, but there was something about the organization that soothed her.

She certainly wasn't getting that from her current project. If an unvarnished, rough-carved hand-shaped block of wood could glare balefully, Reeta was sure it would. This has to work.

She drummed her fingers on the wood for a moment, thinking. If I can just set them properly, the magic will be easy to maintain by any enchanter. Let's see if this combo works... Picking up her runed wand--sparking arcane crystal wrapped in silver wire to prevent accidental reactions--she tapped the hand. "Initiate sequences 21a to 23x, repeating."

The fingers flexed; Reeta breathed a sigh of relief that soon changed to one of frustration as the sequence continued. As it continued to shift--fingers trying to make fists, thumb extending--the wood, instead of stretching and deforming as a living hand would, cracked and fissured along the grain.

"Shit. Stop sequence."

I thought I had it. Grumpily, she tossed the mangled chunk of wood into the reject bin. Guess I can scratch off that theory. Dammit, Yve deserves the best. 

Well. The best after Leo, anyway.

gilded-knight

[tonightwepartyinhell]

(The letter is written in a scratchy hand, and a few flakes of glitter fall out when it’s opened.)

Dear Yvelian,

It’s been way too long since we’ve heard from each other, which is mostly my fault probably. How’ve you been? How are the Dawnspeakers? Is noble stuff still really boring? I hope not. I hope you’ve gotten to see some of Draenor already, parts of it are really pretty. Really dangerous too—lots of demons to kill!—but really pretty. Leolo and I brought back some flowers, and we’re going to try to grow them.

(There is a blotch here, as though the pen dripped while she tried to figure out what to write.)

Speaking of Leo, I have some big news and I thought you should know. We’re engaged! There’s no date set for the wedding yet, but it’s definitely going to happen.  

Write me back soon! ~Reeta Sunflare

gilded-knight

[tonightwepartyinhell]

rage and reflection

When some people needed to think, they paced the floor or smoked one cigarette after another or sat quietly in a small room. Reeta worked. She'd long ago perfected the enchantments she used on artificial limbs; applying them kept her hands busy and left her mind free to wander.

  I'm going to be married. Me. I'm engaged. She looked down at her hands, bare of rings. It still doesn't feel real. Leo's my fiancé, the future father of my...my children...

  Her mind skittered away from the thought, only to return to it from a different angle. She took a breath, forcing the angry surge of arcane energy within her into the arm she was working on. My womb for a testing ground! Her ears pinned back as she remembered her confrontation with the Lion.

  "Human and elf unions seem to produce children at a greater rate than usual.  How should an elf/felblood union go? In exchange for keeping the Orb of the Sin'dorei, you and Leolo find out."

  "...As you wish, sir."

  A faint hiss forced itself out between her teeth. That--fucking vile bastard. If Leolo and I hadn't already been talking about trying for kids--I'd've set him on fire and left, I swear to the Light. I should've been more specific when I got him to swear he wouldn't harm me or Leo.

  The wooden arm under her palms glowed faintly as she manipulated the energy. That's far in the future, though. With any luck. It's not like even regular sin'dorei get pregnant easily, and it's not like he can check to make sure we aren't taking precautions. A smirk curled her lip. I think he actually trusts me. Or thinks I'm an obedient little soldier. Hah! He should know better.

  Arcane swirled over her hands, coalescing into lines and runes. This for mobility, this for grip... Anyway. First is the wedding! I need... Her eyes slid shut. I need to talk to Rythien. He's the only priest I want, defrocked or not. And I need to figure out who to invite, and what I'm gonna wear...

  ...I wish I could invite Saria or Yvelian. She sighed; even as the thought occurred to her, her mind had begun filling in the likely outcome of inviting an ambitious probably-not-actually-a-mage and a paladin that nearly bled Light to a den of felbloods. I'll write them about it. Reeta Yewbreeze...

  Well. She'd think about that part some more. Leolo Sunflare sounded better.

(( gilded-knight))