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Mu11berry

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Everything posted by Mu11berry

  1. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @Scrivener Thanks!! _______________________________________________ Here is a piece that took me all month to color. Not cuz it was particularly fancy or difficult in any way, I just had no motivation. It was the fur. The fur killed me. OTP of av4, day 30 of the 31 day challenge (almost... there...) I like MystxRobin because they are best friends and they stand up for each other. Also, they both approach everything with such a sense of wonder, I like to think of them discovering the world together <3 They are in the dragon wastelands because I love the design for that map, it was gorgeous. For @Queen-of-Ice101's birthday, two things I drew plus a link to a tiny drabble which just seemed more appropriate to share with the pic it goes with than separately in my oneshot threads: I'm also doing inktober with an Aveyond theme (and have actually been keeping up so far :O), but I already know I won't log in here every day to share stuff so I'll post everything up at the end of the month (or the beginning of next month). If you'd like to see stuff on the day it's drawn for, I'm keeping up on deviantart (I'm Mu11berry there too) and instagram (I'm aveyond_obsessed there. Honestly, just search aveyond >> most recent in either place. You'll find me XD)
  2. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    Hi guys! I'm back!! Probably most of you don't remember me (I don't remember that many of you so I'm hoping anyway) but I used to frequent Spam Haven and the story forum. Theennn I got busy and the site changed and I was sort of intimidated, but now here I am again! I have returned from the dead! And I am going to share my "art" with you! Because the world needs more AV art, and not because my art is any good XD Actually it's pretty much the opposite of good, but I try. The image quality is HORRIBLE because I draw on paper and then take pictures of it. So I am sorry. Just enjoy the poorly done fanart, okay?! (If it even shows up. Hopefully it shows up) First up, Kandy, who is not an official Aveyond character but comes from a fanfic called "Shadows of my Twisted Destiny," by Queen_of_ice101, who is a truly amazing writer, by the way. Evil, but amazing. I tried to give her a sort of rebellious/evil but girly look, and instead she looks like Strawberry Shortcake on Halloween, but ya know. This is why I am not a character designer. Next, Rhen, cuz she's awesome. Not colored, because I drew her in my sketchbook instead of on loose paper, and I am left-handed so it is a pain to color anything in books. True story.
  3. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    I lost an argument with myself and am sharing this fluff today, welcome to the sappy piece where Rhen has friends. ________________________________________ Rhen’s Shield Originally this was going to be titled “Stupid,” for reasons which will become obvious as you read, but my sister suggested the title I ended up going with and it is so brilliant and metaphorical and much less, uh, stupid than my previous choice, and hopefully you all get it. if not I'll happily rant about it for three centuries Happens after the party tries to go to Time Shrine but finds the way blocked by a fairy. I have them going there right after defeating Agas because otherwise how would they know to go back to Thais to defeat Aesma? So here, have this fluffy thing: _______________________________ It wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t so adorable. He didn’t have to be so tall and lithe, and there wasn’t any good reason for his broad chest— except for her to hide in, but that wasn’t helping his case. And his eyes didn’t need to be so dark and deep and just right for reflecting all the things she had thought she would never find, and those two careful hands, so perfect for holding and soothing and— so utterly, entirely useless when it came to offense— That was another thing. He did try, no one could say he wasn’t trying, but really the only thing she could think when she watched him swinging that silly staff was that it was— well, it was cute. And usually Rhen could deal with this just fine, when they were fighting bigger monsters and he was focused on keeping the shields up and she was focused on death and destruction, but that day— They were in Memory Caverns, the only thing to fight was the overgrown frogs, and they were gross and slimy and they converged on Rhen’s little group like an army, but they were easy enough to deal with if you had a sword or an axe or some simple spell to take them out. But if you had a stick— well, the frogs were swamping Dameon, and he swung his silly staff very patiently, but Rhen— Maybe it was just that she was not patient, or maybe it was because— she’d seen him crumbling after Agas, and felt the pieces of him slipping away from her while his eyes begged her to hold on— she would hold on, she would never ignore those eyes. She had one basic instinct which overrode all the others, which drove her forward even when her spirit was broken, and that instinct was, to protect every helpless thing. And it was silly, but maybe that was why, even though they were only fighting frogs, and the frogs could only barely get to any of them through their armor, and there was literally precisely zero risk of even Dameon getting seriously hurt, even with his stupid stick— despite all of this, she still kept finding herself stepping in front of the druid and taking down everything that leapt at him. And by the way, having frog slime spattered all over her sword was not her favorite thing, and neither was having to wipe it off on her pants for the fifty hundredth time. Nor was she particularly fond of the way Elini kept raising her delicate little eyebrows and tilting her perfectly rounded chin, as if to say, I see, but there was most definitely assuredly not anything to see here, except maybe the bright blush on Rhen’s face, which was really just a flush from the exertion of battle. Obviously. She could tell that Te’ijal believed otherwise, but Te’ijal wasn’t always right, and neither was Lars, with his rolling eyes. And just because Galahad thought something didn’t mean it was true, not even if Pirate John was looking at him with what seemed suspiciously like agreement. The only sane one in this party was Mad Marge. Marge never looked twice at anyone. Except to spit at them. And then there were the fairies, the giggling, sparkling fairies who never told Rhen anything helpful, and— that one on the steps of Time Shrine, who wouldn’t let them pass! That one— she refused every sort of bribery Elini could think up, deflected every argument Lars could make, ignored even the worst of Mad Marge’s glares. She wouldn’t even tell Rhen how to help. All she kept saying was that she had been separated from her family, and she wanted to be alone. That, there, was the worst part. Rhen couldn’t even be mad at her. Well she could be mad, very mad, surpassingly angry, in fact— but she was mad at herself for being mad because— it was just a little lonely fairy, lost in a world too big for her, longing for what she had known before and refusing to let go of it, even when it was so obviously irretrievably gone. Anyway, because of that fairy they were on their way back to Thais. They had found a fairy kettle in Thais, so maybe they’d find fairies there, too, and if not... If not Rhen supposed Ahriman would just wait nicely in whatever hole he was hiding in while they scoured the world for forever, looking for signs of a fairy group that probably had never existed and wearing their boots clean through to their socks— if they all even wore socks, which she rather suspected Mad Marge didn’t. And— Why were there so many frogs in these blasted caverns?!?!?! She swung her sword with a frustrated grunt, dispatching them all in a violent spatter of slime and other icky gooey froggy stuff, and then— She was swinging her sword around to put it back in her scabbard, and she threw her shield arm up for balance and that’s when it happened— she’d forgotten how close she was standing to him, right up until she heard the sickening thud of thick metal hitting flesh. She whirled around in time to see him stumble backwards, his hands pressed to his face— “Dameon!” “Augh—” She shook her shield off her arm and it landed with a clang on the rocky ground— “Are you okay, Dameon? I didn’t mean to, I was stupid—” “I’m fine,” he grunted, “it’s okay, Rhen—” But he was dropping dizzily onto the nearest rock, and she couldn’t believe him— “Here, let me see it,” she knelt next to him, and reached for his wrists— “No—” he protested, leaning away, “No, I just need a minute—” “Leave him alone, you’ll just make it worse,” Lars said, and Rhen wished she could sink straight into the ground, but Dameon shook his head— “That’s not it, I— I’m just dizzy, give me a moment.” Rhen did, a painful anxious moment of her wringing her hands and wondering why she had to be so careless and reckless and stupid, and then he was clumsily reaching for his pack, and she saw the swollen, purpling skin— “You’re bruising!” she yelled, like it was an accusation, as if he had anything to do with her inability to control herself— “I’m sorry, Dameon. Let me help. Please?” “It isn’t bad, you don’t need to worry—” But she was worried, and she felt so far from him lately, and far from everything, she couldn’t do anything, it was all hurtling towards— towards disaster, probably, and she couldn’t get a grip on it— and he was fumbling with the ties on his pack— “Please, Dameon?” She felt her face drooping into a pout, but she couldn’t help it, and she caught his eyes on hers and held them there, and her face was going to burn off— And he looked down, his cheeks pink like hers, and he nodded once. “Okay.” He gave her his pack, and she took it in both hands. Aloe was for bruises, she had learned that fighting the feral oxen near Thornkeep. She hadn’t been in control then, either, but the world had felt smaller. She’d wished for space back then. She crushed the leaf into a paste while everyone stared at her— everyone except Mad Marge, who sat herself down on a rock a few yards away and took out a hunk of venison and chewed loudly. And then— Rhen took Dameon’s face in one hand, and tilted his chin up so she could see his eye— and she didn’t need to look behind her to know that Elini’s eyebrows were up in her hairline again, and Lars was rolling his eyes, and Galahad was pointedly looking away while Te’ijal made that face that meant she was laughing on the inside but was too composed and elegant to laugh out loud, but— she had hit him pretty hard, she could see where the skin was broken, and she pulled his face closer and he meekly closed his eyes as she smeared the paste over the bruise. Her hands were shaking, why couldn’t she do anything right? “Ouch,” he protested, flinching away— “Sorry,” she said quickly, and then— And then— Her stupid— Eyes— “Rhen!” Dameon let out a soft anxious sound, leaning towards her again. “Don’t cry,” he soothed. “I didn’t mean it. You are doing well. Here, you can finish.” He took her hand and pressed it against his tender, bruised face, after she’d hurt it, twice— and she— she— “I c-can’t,” she sniffled, and she tried to ignore Mad Marge snorting and spitting at an enchanted mushroom— “I— I’ll mess it up again—” “It— it’s okay, Rhen,” he said softly, and now he took her face in his hands. “Please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She tried not to cry, but now that she had started she couldn’t stop, and she tore her face from his hands and hid it in his stupid broad chest and he wrapped his stupid gentle arms around her and she cried because she was stupid and little and lost— “It’s all right, sword singer,” Elini’s voice said, and Rhen felt her slender hand on her shoulder. And then— “It’s okay to cry,” Te’ijal said, patting Rhen’s other shoulder. “It seems to be normal for humans.” Rhen had to laugh at that, and then sob, and Dameon’s robes absorbed all of it. “You have many pressing responsibilities weighing on your shoulders,” Galahad said, and he added his heavy gloved hand to that burden, and Rhen felt surrounded in an entirely different way than she had with the frogs. “We all have bad days” Lars said, joining the circle. And then Pirate John, too— “We’re here for you, girl.” She was an idiot, to be feeling sorry for herself when she had so much support, to be crying when she was the one who had hurt someone, and she tried to dry her face on Dameon’s sleeve and she looked up at all of them through red-rimmed eyes and stuttered, “Th-thank you, guys. I’m sorry I’m such a mess lately.” She tried to smile at each of them in turn, even Mad Marge, who was still sitting on her rock, chewing her venison. The barmaid scowled, and swallowed her food, and then she said— “You’re tough enough, for a landlubber.” It was probably the nicest thing she had said in her life, and Rhen— she guessed she could take that, and she laughed. And then started to cry again, and hid it in Dameon’s shoulder, and said, “I’m sorry I mess everything up.” And everyone patted her back, and Dameon stroked her hair, and his lips searched for her ear and he whispered softly, for just her to hear, “It’s okay to make mistakes.” She trembled against him, and she thought of the little lost fairy, and of Thais, and Ahriman, and Agas— and she thought of the way Dameon reached out for her when he was breaking apart, and she tilted her head up and carefully pressed her lips to the broken skin around his eye. Which was a mistake, because it tasted like aloe. But then he smiled at her, and kissed her nose, and Te’ijal really did laugh and so did Pirate John and Lars shook his head and Elini raised her eyebrows. And it was okay.
  4. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    I don't even know how to introduce this, so here. Here is my sappy, sentimental, silly, sometimes angsty, always fluffy collection of oneshots, wherein Rhen Darzon/Pendragon and Dameon Maurva fall in love. There will also be cats I'm going to try to post everything in chronological order here, so updates will be slow because unfortunately I am not one of those people who can write in chronological order. But the most up-to-date version of this fic will be on fanfiction.net, because I can rearrange chapters over there (which was so nice once I figured out how to do it!) One thing I can't do on ff.net, though, is include deleted scenes. Which I can totally do here, and I have some funny/cute ones, so I might share those here >.> Before we start, I'd like to thank the Aveyond team for creating such beautiful characters who have taught me so much. Aaaannd before I become too dramatic, here we go!! EDIT: So Queen_of_ice101 had to go and inspire me to write another piece with her adorable artwork, and this new piece is set before the original first one, "A Matter of Preference." But it's a short piece, so I'll just paste it in here and there'll be two chapters on the first post. That's fine, right? Am I breaking some forgotten rule here? But anyway, here it is: Confounded Set when Rhen is bringing Rashnu to the Sun Shrine. Dameon is waiting to meet her and then join her and convince her to join Ahriman. We’ll see how that works out for him. ________________________________ He was going to hate her. He knew, because his mother liked her so much. And he would never trust her— he had learned his lesson about trust. But she was going to trust him. He knew his place, and his part, and he would do what was required. He was prepared to swallow his irritation, his dislike, his discomfort— all of it. He would be charismatic, like his father. He would force a smile. He would say nothing wrong. She would be pompous, he knew. She would be full of being the chosen one, and he would have to take her down, carefully, slowly, so she wouldn't notice, so she would only gradually realize how impossible it would be to defeat Ahriman, how hopeless it was to even try. She would be puffed up with her own supposed importance, and he would have to show her what was really important— justice to traitors, traitors like his mother; and revenge for the wronged— surely even she, even the chosen one, had been hurt by someone, surely such a promise would appeal even to her. So he was prepared entirely to meet her, and as he watched her lead her companions up the temple steps, her braid swaying behind her, he knew he had been right about everything. Nothing she could do would surprise him, nothing would make him hesitate or doubt, nothing, nothing, would fool him into trusting her. Nothing, except the way she tripped right over the last step, and her arms flailed about wildly and her eyes caught his and he realized that she was going to fall, if he didn't move his arms right— now— He caught her shoulders, and he was already much, much closer than he'd ever intended to be and he hadn't even introduced himself yet. "Hello there," she said, which he never would have predicted even though now it seemed terribly obvious. She found her balance, and stood up straight again, and he pulled his hands back to his sides and tried to look polite, but he was sure he mostly looked bewildered. And she seemed to be trying to look serious but her nose was pink and her voice squeaked a little when she said, "I don't think we've met. Are you one of the druids?" He had prepared for this. He had an answer, which he was supposed to give, and it was supposed to be cordial, and charming, and he had no idea what it was— her eyes were purple, but that had nothing to do with it. "Rhen, this is my son Dameon, the Sun Priest." His mother's voice irked him, and he was sure he sounded stiff and cold when he said to the chosen one, "M'lady, pleased to meet you." He took her hand to make up for it, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to be formal or friendly but it was too late, he had kissed her fingers, and they were very calloused, and she was turning a very charming shade of pink. And either he had been a fool before, or he was a fool now, but he thought it would be ridiculous to try to strip away her pretensions, because she had none. And he never could have prepared for it, but somehow now he was smiling at her, and he knew, already, that this wouldn't be the last time she confounded him. ______________________________ A Matter of Preference This next short happens shortly (hahahaha) after Dameon joins Rhen's party. They are returning to Ghed'ahre to recruit Te'ijal into their group, having obtained sunscreen, but before they get there it starts to get dark and they have to camp in the Wildwoods. ______________________________________ "This looks like a good place to camp," the sword singer said, motioning at a flat space slightly sheltered by a few tall pine trees. The green-haired one wrinkled his nose. "It looks lumpy." Rhen rolled her eyes and explained to Dameon, "Lars always thinks that." Dameon nodded understandingly and privately thought that the sorcerer's antics were likely to become annoying very quickly. The sword singer turned to their other companion. "Elini, why don't we—" "I am not gathering firewood again!" the Veldtonian woman declared. "I get splinters and they make it difficult to do my summonings. I will set up the sleeping mats. You two can get the wood." "Er... Okay," the chosen one said. Dameon noticed that a blush had bloomed across her face, stretching over her nose and touching the edges of each ear. It was very charming and he couldn't help smiling at her. She didn't notice because she was stubbornly looking at the ground. "I'll light the fire once you're done," Lars volunteered, apparently feeling he was making a great sacrifice in doing so. Dameon rolled his eyes, but said in what he meant to be a polite tone, "Of course." "We'll have to go deeper into the trees," Rhen was saying to him, already walking that way herself. "I have camped before, you know," he said as he followed her into the woods, a little peeved at her apparent lack of faith in his abilities to do anything. Earlier she had cut down a crow that was coming his way, and at lunch she had ripped off his piece of bread for him. She turned back to face him and suddenly all he could see were wide, sad violet eyes which were staring straight through him. He dropped his gaze, feeling ashamed for he didn't know what, and mumbled in a flustered sort of way, "Sorry, m'lady." "I... am sorry, too," she said. "I guess I'm just used to having to take care of everyone." Her nose was pink again and it was so adorable that he forgot to be uncomfortable. "No more, sword singer," he assured her. "I will pull my own weight." To prove it, he picked up a stick. "See, I am contributing already." She smiled, just slightly, and Dameon realized the strangest thing. He had just made a joke. Albeit not a good one, but he hadn't even heard a joke since... since his father… since that day. He wasn't sure how to feel, but he was sure he shouldn't feel lightheaded and nervous. What was happening to him? They didn't speak much after that, except to point out bunches of sticks to each other. Once he moved a particularly low-hanging branch out of her way, and her shoulder brushed his hand as she passed. He felt his ears get hot and he silently thanked the darkness of the forest. He had fully intended to hate her. But she was so sincere, so entirely herself. She spoke as she thought and was so open that instead of disliking her he found that he was rapidly opening up to her. And that was both exciting and terrifying. When they had both filled their arms with sticks of varying sizes, they returned to the campground. Lars started the fire and Rhen passed out hunks of meat. Everyone reached for a thin stick to roast their dinner on, and Dameon did likewise. Nobody spoke. Everyone's meat was soon sizzling over the flames. The smoke rose straight up into the sky—the slight breeze wasn't enough to drive it into anyone's face. And over the smoke, the sky was clear and starry. "The weather is nice," Dameon observed conversationally, then quietly cursed himself for making such a dull comment. "Mmgdh," Elini said, but she wasn't responding to him. She was trying to bite off a piece of practically raw meat. Dameon was shocked and a little disgusted, but he quickly turned back to the fire. "Elini likes her meat rare," Rhen explained. "Mmpft" Elini said, having successfully taken a bite. "I also prefer my meat rare. Anything more done is dog food," Lars said haughtily. Then, his meat caught on fire. "Arrgh!" he squealed, beating his now blackened meat against the ground beside him until sparks stopped flying from it. "Blasted flames! Every time..." Dameon smiled slightly, a little amused, then turned to Rhen. "And how do you like your meat?" "Er," she looked at the ground, "Medium. But I can never get it right." "Why not?" "I, er, never really learned..." she trailed off. Dameon stared at her, but instead of seeing her he saw a lock of purple hair from a slave dealer, purple, not red, and he thought of her thin form curled in the dirty lower decks of a slave ship, or bent beneath a heavy burden, or flinching under— under— He shuddered. "I am... sorry, sword singer." She smiled thinly. "That's all right. I'm sure I'll get it eventually." He couldn't tell her what he had meant. Instead, he reached for her stick. "Let me try." "O—kay," she said, looking surprised but letting him take it. "Er, where did you learn to cook?" "I—" he swallowed, and said carefully, "lived alone, for some time." He turned her stick and moved it farther from the fire. "Oh," she said, and looked down, apparently embarrassed. "Couldn't you just eat in Teacup Town?" Lars said with a roll of his eyes. Dameon drew his eyebrows together, unsure how to respond. "They're cats..." Lars shrugged. "So?" "They eat cat food." Suddenly Lars smiled viciously. "It sounds perfect for Peta then." Dameon was confused. Did they have a dog? He hadn't seen one. "Don't call me that," Rhen growled, and Dameon realized what was going on. He frowned at the sorcerer, but Lars hardly noticed and continued to smirk. "Ahh," Elini sighed contentedly, apparently having finished her meat. "That's it for me, sword singer... Sun priest... sorcerer..." She inclined her head at each in turn. "I will retire now. Goodnight, northerners." "Goodnight Elini," Rhen said. "I'm going to bed too," Lars said, tossing the rest of his burnt meat into the flames. "Don't forget to put out the fire." Rhen sighed. "We won't." Then it was just the two of them under the stars. He should say something. He should try to bring up the finer points of Ahriman's plan, slowly reveal the truth to her. His mouth was open but nothing was coming out. What was wrong with him? Her eyes were so purple, violently purple, like storm clouds whirling through a night sky, sometimes pouring down destruction, otherwise softly calling to the tiny growing things beneath the soil. He felt he couldn't look at them for too long or he would be swallowed up, lost, destroyed— yet he couldn't look away. He wanted to say something witty and charming. He wanted her to blush again. Blushing suited her, made her silly little nose look more adorable, made her eyes stand out twice as much— He realized then that she was blushing, though he hadn't said anything at all. "What are you looking at?" she asked, self-consciously moving a piece of hair out of her face. Embarrassed, he quickly looked away, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your dinner is done, sword singer." He handed her the stick, carefully keeping his eyes down. He heard her chomping down on the meat, sucking up the juices like a starved animal. She was certainly not an elegant eater, but he thought it was fitting. She had no pretensions about herself, why should she have any for her meal? Without noticing, he raised his gaze to look at her, and was a little surprised to see she had already finished half her food. She caught his eye, and said, perhaps a little shyly, "It's very good, thank you." "Is it?" He said, more excitedly than he had meant to. "I am very glad." And he was very glad, which was very strange, and he hesitated a little and then added, "It is a pleasure to cook for you." She smiled, a real smile, and it was infinitely more becoming than the blush.
  5. Mu11berry

    Beginnings (AKA Berry has Too Many Feelings)

    Hello, more angst, sorry. I wrote this one about a year ago I think, when I was replaying AV1 (I'm pretty much always replaying av1 haha) and I was at the final battle and my roommate was watching, and she asked what would happen if I didn't have the fairy dust. So I told her and she told me I should write it so… I did. And it is dramatic and I am sharing it anyway, you're welcome. The longer italicized phrases are a story by themselves (and they make more sense on fanfiction.net cuz I used them in the summary but wleajgwe oh well). If I was a better writer you would understand, but I am still learning so you will just have to deal with this, and I am sorry. ___________________________________________________ "It always began with a change. There was always a choice, there was always a war. There was always a fall. In the end it was death-" The End ________________________________________________ It always began with a change. He had gone to Ahriman, it had really happened, it wasn't a dream— it was a nightmare, a waking nightmare like the ones Talia had warned them about. And then— he'd offered her a choice, a real choice, after all this time, but it wasn't one she could take, she couldn't join him, she couldn't join that— that— thing, standing beside him with a too-satisfied smile, if it could be called a smile— She couldn't join him, but oh! He couldn't really be asking her to fight him, he couldn't mean it. "Come back to me," she pleaded, tears stinging her eyes— she had not expected to cry here, she had thought she would only bleed. He stared back at her, white-faced, and when he spoke it was with a dead voice, not like the one she knew. "I belong to Ahriman now." "Ahriman is evil!" she cried again. "He is using you! Why can't you see it?" Ahriman's laugh was worse than his sneer. "It is pointless to resist, child. Join us or perish." "Dameon," she said, not because he wasn't already looking at her but because she wanted to call back the man she knew, the man who spoke softly and carefully and who listened quietly when she needed him— "Please." "No," Ahriman said sharply, grabbing Dameon's arm with one of his bony, claw-like hands. "Very well then, sword singer. I see you have made your choice. It is time to end this. Sun Priest, take her now!" Dameon looked at her with wide dark eyes, his mouth open in that little o shape she had become so familiar with, and his chest shaking— "Strike her!" the demon hissed again, his eyes flashing now and his gruesome mouth twisting into a snarl. "Master… please," Dameon said in that same dead voice, "she is innocent. She is only confused. The oracle—" "Wretch! How dare you disobey me?" Ahriman rasped. "Do as I say! Fight her!" Dameon was fighting, something in himself, some dark power assaulting his mind— he let out a strangled grunt, clenching his jaw, and then he doubled over and clutched at his head— "Kill her!" Rhen was trembling and Dameon was falling to his knees— "No," he gasped. "No, no—" "Traitor!" Ahriman bellowed, shaking the whole cave— "Coward! You will never be all your father was!" He raised his twisted staff over Dameon's bowed head and swung down— "No!" The Sword of Shadows met the dark staff, and Rhen had chosen to fight the demon— it was her decision, after all, fate had no power in this place. There was always a choice, there was always a war. She swung and he dodged, she thrust and he knocked her sword aside and sparks jumped from their weapons like all the stars of heaven were falling around them. And she danced, the song of the battle was written in her beating heart and the words were the clashing and clanging of a blade drawn to defend the defenseless— she had known the music all her life. The others twirled into the action— Elini and Lars and Te'ijal and Galahad and John and even Marge. Dameon kneeled still on the ground, fighting another battle, the ancient war of truth and error, light and dark, good and evil— If only it could be so simple, if only he could see clearly which was which— In the darkness everyone is blind. Ahriman shot a spell and she twirled out of the way, she sliced and caught his hood in her blade— he wrenched himself free with an awful screech, and he shot at Elini and then Galahad and then— Then— Her sword was singing and she felt the shift in the rhythm, this was not her battle to win; like the ancient sun priests who forged agea, and the fairy guardians of the dreamworld, she, too, was fated to fall before the rising darkness, she, too, would die for defying the natural succession of order to chaos, day to night, life to death. There was always a fall. The sword of shadows was blasted out of her hands, and she watched it skid away. She had made her choice, she did not regret it, even as the demon raised his staff to point it at her and she knew the song was ending. She had fought for her parents, all of them, and for Eddy, and Tiny and the people of Dirkon and of Thais and— Last of all, she fought for Dameon, whether he accepted her or not. She could not regret defending someone who had meant so much to her, and as the spell sped towards her she thought of dark eyes and warm hands and she wished for light— Light— Light. The room was suddenly filling with light, exploding with it, and Rhen was blind and there was screaming, and screaming, Ahriman was screaming, and somehow Rhen was alive still and— When it cleared Dameon was standing, his body shaking but his gaze steady. "No!" Ahriman howled. "You belong to me! Do as I say! Kill the girl, she is of no worth to us now!" Rhen stared at Dameon, and he stared at Ahriman, and said in his quiet, even voice, "She is the chosen one." "Fool!" Ahriman roared. "She will destroy us! Do you think she will take you back after your betrayal?" But Dameon only swallowed, and breathed softly, "I will accept the consequences." Ahriman shrieked, and the ground was quaking and he was raising his staff— "Wretched traitor!" — and Dameon was crying out and stepping back under the force of the spell, and Ahriman was cackling— Rhen's hands searched for the hilt of her sword, and somehow Te'ijal had found it and was passing it to her and Rhen took it and ran and yelled, she raised the blade high over her head and then brought it down— The impact was violent, a tremor ran through her sword and up her arm and through her entire self, Ahriman was frozen with his hands still in the air, his laugh still etched on his face— it was gruesome to watch, how the sword sucked him in and glowed red in the demonic blood, and Rhen knew now why the Oracle called it cursed— she was going to be sick, but the demon was gone— "We— we did it," she panted in disbelief, turning to stare at the others Dameon stared back, his mouth slightly open, his body still shaking. She dropped the cursed blade and stumbled to him— she had thought he was lost— he was safe, he was safe— She buried her face in his chest, stained scarlet where the spell had hit him— "Rhen—" he gasped softly as her forehead pressed into his collarbone. "I— I am a traitor." She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulled him closer— "I am wretched." She tried to say something but her breaths were coming in quick little gasps— His hands settled uncertainly on her back, and he traced warm, soothing circles. "I deserve death." And then the whole world was trembling, and rocks were falling all around them—. "Come on, everyone!" Lars shouted. "Let's get out of here! This place is collapsing!" But instead she collapsed against Dameon's chest, and he picked her up and carried her and her sword through the crumbling caverns. He sent up an earth shield and the rocks bounced off it and he tightened his jaw but he didn't flinch, and— they came at last to the end of the caves and burst into the sunlight— the sunlight, it was still there, after everything. Dameon gently set her on her feet, and then he kneeled in the sand in front of her and held her sword out towards her. "Rhen," he said, in that same dead voice from before. "Take what is yours. Take my life. I cannot be trusted." She reached out and traced the bones of his face, where the tears would have fallen if he had any left. "You came back to me," she said. He took a careful, shaking breath. "He wasn't supposed to hurt anyone." "Your life belongs to me now," she realized, as she took her sword from him. He bowed his head, ready for the blow that would finish everything. In the end it was death— But she sheathed the cursed blade, and tilted his chin up so that he had to look at her. "I choose to set you free. Your mind is yours." She brushed his hair behind his ear and looked into those dark eyes, glittering in the light. "Let your gentle heart guide it." — or forgiveness.
  6. So it turns out sometimes I write stuff because I have a lot of feelings and I don't know what else to do with them. This is the topic where I will share the oneshots resulting from that. Some of these will pretty much be pure fluff, like this first one, and later I have some angst ones where I explore some what-ifs for the games, and who knows what else I will write in the name of being overly emotional. I've been wanting to start a topic for these for awhile but 1. I am slow, and 2. I had a hard time figuring out what in Aia to call it XD I went with Beginnings because pretty much anything I can write will at least have a beginning. I mean, hopefully, right? And the stuff I've already written deals with either the beginning of something (like this first thing I'm going to share) or with the tragedy of missed beginnings. So close enough, I tried, hopefully I don't ever write anything that absolutely cannot fit under this title and ruin my own plans. I'm going to keep a contents list on this first post, like I do for Silly Aveyond Shorts, because we all know otherwise I will get lost:) Intentions (8/28/2018) Wild (9/6/2018) ________________________________ This first oneshot was written as pure fluff for a friend who loves Te'ijalahad. Galahad is a bit OOC in it because, fluff, but it always makes me smile anyway. I am a sap, there is a wedding, it is inevitable. I thought about including this in my Silly collection because it is humorous, but it just isn't quite that humorous. Also, I always use the pet names I used in "Softly" in In Pieces for all my stuff, canon-compliant or not like this oneshot, so if you haven't read that, the bat's name is Serpent Spawn, and it belongs to Te'ijal. _______________ Intentions _______________ Rhen had not begun the day with any intention of sitting through a wedding. Her plans had been to shop for new armor— she had dents and nicks in her shield and her boots were rather worn. And while she was at it she'd intended to ask around to see if anyone knew where she might find a demon, and possibly also a band of fairies. The fairy kettle had been here so it was possible— that's what she kept telling herself, anyway. The universe itself, actually, had seemed to be preparing for an uneventful day. When Rhen had finally gotten all her companions out the door the sky was overcast like usual, and the streets were as bustling as they normally were, which meant hardly at all. Nobody was buying anything blue or borrowing anything significant— well, Te'ijal had borrowed Galahad's soul some time ago, and she wore that around her neck very proudly, but somehow Rhen thought that wasn't exactly what the old wedding rhyme meant. So really there had been no warning, every sign had pointed to the sheer impossibility of anything exceptional happening that day in Thais. If it had been Clearwater all exceptional events would have been cancelled in advance in order to avoid the misfortune bound to follow anything that dared to occur under such an ill-omened sky. But Rhen had realized long ago that Thais was not Clearwater, and anyway, perhaps it should have tipped her off when the priest's name was Gray. But it didn't, of course, so instead she found herself standing there with her mouth hanging open when Te'ijal took the holy man up on his offer and turned to Galahad with her usual blood-chilling smile. "Galahad, my tasty tidbit, would you like to earn your freedom?" Galahad, predictably, proclaimed that he would never bargain with serpent spawn (and Rhen ducked before remembering the bat was back in Sedona), and with all his usual eloquence he told the vampress to hand over his soul or die. This made Te'ijal laugh, of course, and before Rhen knew it Galahad had bargained with serpent spawn, and the paladin was being ushered to the front of the room while Te'ijal was being ushered out of the room and Rhen was being shown to a seat— she was not dressed for a ceremony like this, she hadn't even had a chance to buy new boots yet and she hadn't washed this pair since— it had been a while, that's all she would admit. Elini took the chair on one side of her and crossed her ankles and looked very proper and pretty and as though she had been practicing to be surprised like this her whole life. And Dameon sat on Rhen's other side, and glanced towards her with his eyebrows raised and his mouth open slightly, making a little o. He was just as unprepared as her, then. She reached over and slipped her hand into his and thought that it was nice to at least be lost with someone. His cheeks turned pink, like she hadn't held his hand a hundred times before, and slowly his long fingers closed over her clumsy ones. Then, her face did this embarrassing thing where a stupid smile flitted across it and her cheeks felt warm, and she tried to pretend it wasn't happening and she looked towards Galahad instead. Galahad was also pink, but in a rather different way. His mouth was turned down in a frown at least as deep as the Eldredth, and he stared ahead with all the stoic resolve of a knight about to meet his dragon— which was really pretty much exactly what was happening, Rhen supposed. The priest stood behind him, and signalled to someone sitting behind the organ— Rhen hadn't realized there was anyone behind the organ, but whoever it was began playing and the door Te'ijal had been ushered through opened again and Galahad ground his teeth. Then he saw her. Was he actually crying? Maybe it was time to intervene. Rhen almost stood to say something but Dameon leaned towards her and she paused and he whispered almost reverently, "This is the first time I've seen him smile." She looked again— the paladin was smiling, and the world was stopping and Te'ijal was floating down the aisle— literally floating, because she was a vampire. She was radiant, even though she was still wearing the same clothes with those clumsy patches from when that Nemesis had caught her off guard. Rhen was caught off guard this time, and she settled back into her seat and stared. Te'ijal reached the front and Galahad seemed to remember himself and scowled and looked away from her. But he also took her hand— stiffly, like he'd never done anything quite that crazy in his life, which he probably hadn't. Te'ijal grinned and her fangs glistened and she looked impressively not terrifying. Just— happy. "Gentle lords and ladies, and ruffians," the priest began, with a quick glance over their worn armor and dirty faces, "the agreement having been made before our eyes on this very day, we gather now to join this fair— uh— vampress and noble knight in unholy matrimony, by the—" he coughed, " the blessing of the goddess." Rhen had been to one or two weddings in Clearwater, when she was small, and she supposed the introduction might have gone somewhat vaguely more or less like that. "Sir Knight," the priest continued, "dost thou come today to enter into this blasphemous union of thine own free will and choice?" Galahad scowled at him. "Aye, priest!" "Very good. Vampress, dost thou come—" "Aye!" Te'ijal declared, smiling widely. Galahad glanced at her again and those hard lines around his mouth twitched. "Ah— excellent!" the priest said. "Then as you have both pledged your troth to be married this day, I call upon the sun and moon to bless this union. If any one has any reason to object, by the Goddess's Law or the laws of Thais; let them speak now, or else henceforth and forever hold their peace." Rhen shuffled her feet, and behind her Pirate John coughed awkwardly. She looked at Dameon and he shrugged, and that pretty much summed it up. It was the first time she had seen the man smile... "There being no objection to this marriage let us continue. Do you, Sir Knight, take unto thyself as wife this— uh—" "Creature of the night," Galahad supplied. "Creature of the night," the priest continued, nodding, "and swear unto her before the Mother of All and these witnesses to be her protector, defender, and champion? To honor and support her, in sickness and in health, in times of light and of darkness, to cherish her above all other treasures, with all thy worldly powers, so long as ye both shall live?" Rhen stared. In times of light and of darkness— who could make that kind of promise? She found that she was holding her breath, and she let it out and Dameon's hand tightened around hers, and Galahad clenched his jaw. "I do." The priest didn't even blink. "And do you, vampress, take unto thyself as husband this noble knight, and pledge unto him before the Mother of All and these witnesses to honor, obey, and cherish him? To cleave unto him, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, in times of light and of darkness, to be his one true and lasting counselor and solace, with all thy worldly and otherworldly powers, so long as ye both shall live?" "I do!" Te'ijal trilled. The priest looked vaguely amused, but not half as amused as Te'ijal, and he declared with all the drama that might be expected, "Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you wed! You may now kiss the— er— bride." And Galahad did kiss the bride, so quickly Rhen almost didn't believe she had seen it, but the stunned look on Te'ijal's face was proof enough— In times of light and of darkness— if anyone could intend to keep such a promise, surely it was the vampress and the paladin.
  7. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    Fair warning, this piece hurts to read for me. I promise there is healing later! But first it's important to go through this part. So find something soft to follow this up with. If you're reading after I post the next piece, "Rhen's Shield," then that is soft, but if you are reading before, I am sorry<3 _____________________________________ Tear Shrine This piece almost doesn’t even belong in a fluff collection, but I think that some of what happens in this scene was a really big part of the character development in the game (and just of the plot in general), and I think it was also an important part of Rhen and Dameon’s relationship, so I’m sharing it anyway. Happens in the Dreamworld, pretty much right after they first enter. For those of you who haven’t played AP or those who don’t remember, Talia has brown eyes ______________________________________ He had not been here for… years. He had forgotten how the purple grass swayed slowly in the cool wind, too slowly, like it was underwater. He’d forgotten how the violently pink leaves of the trees rustled, quietly, as if they were whispering dangerous secrets, and the stars were scattered over his head and under his feet, there were places where the land just ended, and he could have walked right off into the sparkling abyss. He had not forgotten the path to Tear Shrine, he still remembered the way to— to— Mother. His heart fluttered desperately in chest, like he’d swallowed one of those portal butterflies and it was trying to escape. He wished he could escape. Or maybe— Maybe— He took one tentative step forward, toward the shrine, towards her. He knew she wasn’t there. She was never there, when he looked for her. But— She was his mother. He took another step— she had been there, sometimes, when he wasn’t looking. She had told him stories about fairies, and elves, and made him wash his hands before dinner, and… She had killed his father— He remembered that, so vividly it paralyzed him— he had yelled until he thought his heart would come out his raw throat, it had done nothing— She had watched silently, like those cold, distant stars. Were they even real, or were they an illusion of the Dreamworld? Dreamworld. It was not that anymore. It was a nightmare, and he was lost in it. “Dameon?” The calloused tips of little fingers brushed across his arm, and he turned slowly, trying to still his shaking chest— It was Rhen. It was always Rhen. Her eyes shined, not at all like the stars, much closer, much warmer, and she smiled bravely at him— bravely and gently. “Can you lead us to Tear Shrine?” He knew the way, but— to walk it again— He did not know if he could do it without breaking in two. She was watching him quietly with those violet eyes. She trusted him. He did not deserve it— But he wanted to. He dipped his head. He could not raise it again, but Rhen understood, and she slipped her arm into his and followed him down the old, bloodstained path. Or, did he follow her? The others trailed behind, starting at every rustle of the fuchsia leaves, huddling closer with every distant screech. It was only shivens and dream witches, they weren’t the worst things that had walked these paths. Dameon whispered the words for a spirit shield. He could feel Rhen relax next to him as it settled around the party. He couldn’t relax, he could barely force his feet to move, one after the other— She was a murderer, she’d taken everything from him— She was his mother, she’d given him life, she’d held him in her lap and sung him to sleep— She’d left him alone in a cold stone temple, with no one around except binis and fairies, and Vata, but he couldn’t talk to Vata, Vata treated him like a child— He was a child, a very lost child, and he wished— He’d had two parents once, and— He wished— It was impossible. His mother had protected his dreams, even after what she’d done. He had felt her silently watching from a distance, and fading away as the sun rose, like the twinkling stars. And by that, he wasn’t sure if he meant— a small light in the dark, or far away and cold, and always meddling cruelly with fate. That was before— Agas had meant to kill her, but he only cast her out of her realm. Dameon had been— almost grateful. He had been ashamed of his weakness, he had tried to forget the feeling. But now, as he walked the paths of his childhood, it rose up and swallowed him. His feet stopped moving. A soft blue glow had been cast over the ground ahead of him, and he knew if he looked up he would see— He had not been here for years. The last time— The last time— There had been death. He could still feel the echoes of it, reverberating in his soul. “This is it,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained and hardly recognizable as his own. “My— my—” Rhen put a hand on his back, and said quietly, “Tear Shrine?” He swallowed hard and nodded. The others slowly stepped around him, began climbing the temple steps. Rhen tugged on his hand, and, somehow, his feet started moving forward again, closer and closer to— A monster lived in the shrine, and as he finally reached the top of the stairs, Dameon half-expected to see his father’s body still lying on the floor, his mother standing watching with her silent dark eyes. He had his mother’s eyes. What he saw, instead of any of the familiar horrors, was him. Agas. The demon laughed at them, a low, dead sound, a sound that did not belong here, in his— His— Home— “You’ve come only to die!” Agas hissed, and— Not here, in the last refuge he had known, the final resting place of all his hopes— there had been light laughter once, and warm smiles, and— and— there had been tears, too, from more than one set of eyes— “You are the one responsible for my mother’s demise!” The words— came out of his mouth, and— and he meant them— he was going to split into two, he could not hold both of these feelings in him at once, he would be destroyed— “I recognize you, sun priest. Whose side are you on?” His father fought for justice, his mother for mercy, and he— He— He didn’t know. “I’ve always suspected your intentions,” the demon said, with a low, scornful laugh, and he drew his sword with a clang that might have been a death knell. “Prepare to be destroyed!” But somehow— Somehow— When it was over, it was Agas who yelled and crumbled into dust. Elini was quickly drawing the symbols that would allow her to call him back to the living realm, and Rhen stood in front of where the demon had been, panting, and she turned to stare at Dameon— He could hardly do more than stare, himself. “He is destroyed,” he said, quietly, amazed. “My mother will be proud.” The words felt strange in his mouth, strange and… and… He nearly said them again, but his eyes met Rhen’s and she watched him with— fear. She was afraid of him— he had never meant to frighten her. “Dameon? Did you know the demon?” The demon— he was surprised the Tear Shrine did not come crashing down around him, he had forgotten, for a moment, why he was here, what had been done— how could he forget? Rhen looked down, and then up at him again. “He talked with you as if he did.” He could only stare at her, his breath rattling in his chest, like it was empty, like he’d finally managed to lose the heart that beat there and bled— He swallowed, and looked at the floor. “I encountered him once before,” he said, carefully, his voice flat and lifeless. He would lose her now— He had already lost everything once. “You must trust me,” he begged. “I am against him.” Him— his father, or Agas?— “—Them,” he corrected, quickly, and he heard Lars scoff, and Rhen— Rhen— “I trust you will do what is right.” He did not deserve it. He did not know if he could live up to it, or if he even knew what right was— But he wanted to. He raised his head to look at her. She looked back with brave, guileless eyes, and he said the only thing a broken, lost person could when a hero like her believed in them. “Thank you, Rhen.” She nodded, and she bent down to pick up the Dreamer’s Tear from where it rested in the dust. She cradled it carefully in her palms, and the glowing liquid swirled in the glass orb. There had been tears, from more than one set of eyes. Slowly, she walked to him, her gaze not leaving his, and she pressed the orb into his shaking hands.
  8. Mu11berry

    Beginnings (AKA Berry has Too Many Feelings)

    @Scrivener of the Gods Thanks! And you should write how want, essay-style is good for some things, but if you have strong feelings and they aren't hurting anyone, writing is the place to express them, I think. It's always cathartic for me, and sometimes you learn about yourself:)
  9. So I found a lovely fanart of Alicia giving Rhen to Tailor on deviantart and it needs to be seen by the world. The artist is razvielf96 :)

    1. NickyLOL48

      NickyLOL48

      I'll check it out. I always trust your judgement Berry! :kawaii-happy:

       

  10. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    So I was going to save this update for next week, but then I realized I've kind of been sharing a lot of angst lately, and this piece is a little fluffier. Plus, it is my friend's birthday. She doesn't even know Aveyond besides my ranting but I still can't have her day pass without sharing fluff of some sort, so here: ________________________________________________ Sunshine This piece happens on Mount Orion, after the party goes there to search for Priestess Oyane but before they find her. I think I have managed to outdo myself for sap once again. I even out-sapped Night Watch. And there are a lot of stupid sentimental metaphors if you look for them but I think you will be able to enjoy the story even if they go over your head. (Or, especially if they go over your head???) Anyway, also, there are jokes. ________________________________________ She could hear the rain pattering on the ground outside the cave, even with her head buried under her blanket. She did not like rain. It was cold and unrelenting, like— It had been overcast in Thais, too. It had sprinkled on them in Mysten Far, and still they had trudged on, because— well, that’s what they were supposed to do. But Rhen, for one, was tired of being responsible. For two days now they had been searching for that confounded priestess, spelunking through caves, hiking up steep rocky peaks, and— also— getting— rained on! Well, okay, so she hadn't exactly been getting rained on, but only because she was a rebel, and she had ignored the blasted Oracle all those months ago and let that dang Sun Priest come with her. And that dang Sun Priest could do a few cute little tricks, like, say, shielding the entire party from water. Rhen was very grateful for this cute little trick, and she had beamed at the dang Sun Priest several times. And if she beamed once twice more than was necessary just to see him smile back— well, she already admitted to being a rebel, and she would do as she pleased. But— as lovely as it was to be dry, there was still the mud to hike through, and it made ridiculous noises every time she pulled her boots out of it— shooolp! shkiiip! schup!— and it had been funny at first but it definitely wasn't by the end of the day. Neither were the landslides, or trying to fight ravwyrn kings and fire griffins in the howling wind, and— and— She was sick of the mud, and sick of not finding any signs of that blasted priestess, and also— Dameon kept rolling over, and his restlessness was keeping her awake. “Dameon!” she hissed at last— it must have been midnight, at least. “Can you please lie still for five minutes?” There was a guilty silence, and then he whispered back, “Sorry, Rhen.” Sorry, Rhen. He wasn’t even trying to be eloquent. She watched him through narrowed eyes, and he stared up at the cave’s ceiling, his body rigid except for the uneven rise and fall of his chest. “Dameon,” she said after a long pause. “Is something bothering you?” He looked at her with wide, dark, anxious eyes, but what he said was, “N—o.” She sat up on her mat and fixed him with her most serious gaze. Sleep was overrated, anyway. “Are you sure?” He swallowed, and turned red, and then finally, reluctantly, he admitted, “I— cannot sleep.” That made two of them. “Why not?” But before he could answer— “Will both of you shut up?” Lars interrupted exasperatedly, not bothering to whisper. “No one can sleep with you two around!” "That isn't quite true," Te'ijal said, turning towards them from where she had been keeping watch. "Listen to the pirate." Pirate John was, in fact, snoring loudly, though Rhen definitely hadn't noticed it before. Elini rolled over in her sleeping mat to look at John. "Hmm," she said. "I'll have to do something about that before our wedding." "I could bite him," Te'ijal offered. "Serpent spawn!" Galahad scolded, sounding half-asleep himself. "Leave the pirate alone!" Mad Marge shifted, and they all looked towards her in terror. "You're all crazy," she muttered, before flipping over and, if not actually sleeping, doing a very good job of pretending she was. "For once I agree with her," Lars said, crossing his arms and glaring up at the cave ceiling. Te'ijal chuckled. "You could all try eating mutton." There was a confused silence wherein Rhen tried very hard to figure out this strange suggestion on her own, and then, finding herself completely at a loss, she said, "What?" "Isn't that what you humans do to fall asleep?" Dameon laughed, and Rhen started and everyone turned to stare at him. He flushed and cleared his throat, and mumbled, "My apologies. I— I believe she meant counting sheep." Then Rhen laughed, but no one else was laughing and she quickly choked on it— not before Dameon looked at her and beamed. Which made her feel much less stupid. Te’ijal just shrugged. “It hardly makes a difference to me.” Nobody argued with her. Galahad rolled over. Lars pulled his blanket up over his head. Elini closed her eyes, Dameon lay motionless as stone, and Rhen— Rhen still wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon. Lightning flashed outside, and the light bounced off the cave walls like the silver sword of some vengeful demon. Rhen hated storms. In Clearwater rain meant days spent inside helping her mother with chores, and praying to the goddess that there wouldn't be any landslides or sinkholes, and that the apple orchards would be all right— Rain was the sort of thing that could change someone's life in an instant, without ever asking for permission. Rhen did not like those sorts of things. The thunder came after that, insistent and unforgiving, and Rhen ducked under her covers and shivered. Why did the rain have to be cold, too? Te’ijal was talking to someone in a low, laughing voice. Everyone was supposed to be sleeping. Who was she talking to? Rhen shifted and peeked out from beneath her blankets, just in time to see Dameon walking out of the cave. And not bothering with a water shield. Where did he think he was going? He was going to get caught in a rockslide, or struck by lightning, or— or— She hated the rain. “Te’ijal,” she hissed. The vampress looked towards her and Rhen asked, “What is Dameon doing?” Te’ijal tilted her head, and her fangs glinted eerily in the strange glowing light of the midnight storm. “He wanted to take a walk.” “In this weather?” But Te’ijal just shrugged, amusement clear on her features even in the darkness. “Do humans find that unusual?” Rhen sighed. And pulled on her boots. And went out into the stupid, detestable cold repulsive rain, too. Because, she was crazy. She flinched as the first icy droplets hit her bare arms, and then her face— and then she lost track, and she was soaked through to her bones and tiny streams were flowing off the ends of her hair. And her boots— were— sticking— in— the— mud! Again! “Dameon!” she called over the sound of the storm and the Schkuup! Shhhkk! of the mud. Now was not the time for pacing or thinking or— whatever he thought he was doing. Now was time for sleep. Or at least, pretending to sleep— Shhllp!— Schkip!— She hated the mud— Shhkkpp— kkp— And she could barely see anything in the rain and the darkness, this was ridiculous— Kkp— kpt— “Argh!” she yelled as her ankle twisted and she slipped and careened forward and fell into— Wet, cold— Robes? “Careful,” said a low voice over her head. She didn’t know how she heard it over the rain. “It’s slippery.” “Th-thanks,” she shivered, clutching at Dameon’s cloak— of course it was Dameon— and she tried to regain her balance and— “Ack—” she squeaked as she stepped down on her foot and felt a sharp pain, and she fell forward into Dameon again because her ankle wasn’t working like an ankle and it hurt a lot— And mostly, because falling into him was much nicer than falling into the mud. “Are you hurt, Rhen?” She nodded into his shoulder. “My ankle— I— it’s not working—” Words. She was forgetting all of them. But he brushed her wet hair out of her eyes and then he was lifting her off the ground— shhlkp!— and her boots were out of the mud and dangling in the air and— Now, also, somehow, her arms had found their way around his neck, and she was looking up at him and thinking that the rain sparkled on his face like fairy dust, and— She could feel his heart beating through his robes, a steady rhythm that was nothing like the thunder. He was nothing like the rain— and she realized her mouth was still partway open in surprise or— whatever it was, and she quickly closed it again and looked away, and— She had kissed Danny once. Jenna had dared her to during a winter solstice celebration, and she’d found him by the pastry cart and she’d grabbed his shoulders and— It was slimy and gross and— thrilling, and she’d run back to Jenna and they’d giggled for weeks after. It had frightened Peter and confused Danny, which only made it all funnier. And then, slowly like the snow melting and the flowers growing, as naturally as springtime, they had forgotten. Kissing Dameon would be different. If she kissed him, it would feel like— like those bright mornings, the kind that dawned gradually after a long, dark, sleepless night, the kind where she was awake before the birds and she saw and heard and felt the whole world come to life around her, and felt like maybe she, too, could come alive again— he would feel like the first rays of sunlight falling gently on her skin and thawing her frightened heart, and— “I’m going to set you down here, and look at your ankle.” His soft voice brought her back abruptly to the rain and she stared up into his stupid dark eyes— If she kissed him, she would never forget it. He set her down on a rock and kneeled in the mud in front of her, and carefully took her foot in one hand. “I need to take off your boot,” he told her— she saw his lips form the words more than she heard them. “It might hurt.” Her boot was heavy and covered in mud and his careful graceful hands didn’t belong anywhere near it— but there they were already, easing the boot off her foot and setting it aside so delicately she would have thought it was a glass slipper. And it did hurt, but he held her ankle and rubbed the bones while muttering one of his spells, and the rain splashed on her bare toes and dripped off the end of her heel and it was all very— Soothing. He lowered her foot into his lap and looked up at her. “Is that better?” Yes, but— “You’re all dirty now,” she told him, frowning at the mud caking the knees of his robes. He shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He picked up her boot and pulled it back over her toes and her ankle and then her calf, and she felt warm which didn’t make any sense because it was supposed to be wet and cold out here— it had been, not that long ago. “Dameon— what are you doing out in the storm?” He looked down at the rain bouncing off the ground between them. “I couldn’t sleep.” His hair was sticking to his forehead and his cheeks, and she reached out, carefully and slowly like she had learned, to brush it back. “Why not?” Now he looked at her with wide brown eyes. “I just— I’m not ready.” She waited. “I— It’s— been so long, since I’ve been to the Dreamworld. I— I don’t know if I can— go there again. Last time—” he swallowed and shook his head, looking at the ground again. “Last time— it— it will be hard for me,” he finished quickly, and fisted his hands in his lap. Rhen, too, was afraid to go to a place. She was afraid of what had not yet happened there, he of what had already occurred. She slid off the rock to kneel beside him, and put her hand at his elbow. This was how she said I’m here— and his elbow fit in her palm very nicely. Then, because she was tactful and patient and very serious, she said, “So you decided to take a walk in the rain?” And then, because it couldn’t get worse than that, she added, “Why didn’t you put up a water shield?” But she knew she hadn’t offended him by the way his lips curved up, and he looked at her sheepishly. “I like the rain.” She blinked. “Really?” He nodded, and one long, elegant finger traced circles in the mud. “I used to play in it, when I was little.” “Hmm,” she said, tilting her head. “I always had to stay inside.” His childhood had been so different, and he was so different, but here they both were, sitting quietly in the soft rain and remembering. She traced a circle beside his. “What did you play?” He glanced at her, brown eyes almost glowing in the blue night. “I don’t remember,” he said with a nervous laugh, and his hands traced circles over the circles. “I— I used to make— cakes. Out of mud.” She wrinkled her nose. “Cakes?” He gave her a short, embarrassed little nod. “Yes. Like— like this.” And then his two graceful hands scooped up a pile of mud, and plopped it onto the ground between them. She giggled— she couldn’t help it, she had wondered for so long what his childhood had been like and now he was showing her and it had been full of mud, and he laughed too, and she scooped up her own handful of mud and plopped it on top of his. “Like that?” “No,” he said, but he was smiling and she almost thought he was about to make a joke. “You have to do it like you mean it. Like this.” Then— he tossed the mud so hard at the little pile they had made that it splashed up and Rhen gasped. “Sorry,” he said quickly, “I got carried away—” But she was laughing now, and she gathered up all the mud she could into her two hands. “Like this?” she said, and she threw the mud so hard that it spattered up into their faces and Dameon sputtered and spat it out of his mouth and— Laughed and laughed, so that Rhen had to laugh too, and she rolled forward and had to catch herself with her hands in the stupid wet slimy mud, and she thought that if this was what rain was really like, maybe it wasn’t so bad. “You’re a natural,” Dameon told her when he had caught his breath, and she grinned when she had caught hers. “This is fun.” And she patted more mud onto the cake, and he patted more mud onto it and their hands brushed against each other like timid butterflies, and their cheeks were pink in the soft blue rain. “So this is how you played? When you were little?” He smiled wistfully. “Sometimes. In Aveyond. It— doesn’t rain in the Dreamworld.” “Oh.” Now her hands were brushing his on purpose. His fingers were warm still, under the layers of mud and rain. “I used to think storms were sort of— magical.” “Really?” She never would have thought of it before, but now— now everything seemed bright and enchanted. “Everything sparkles in the rain.” He glancing up at her with a soft smile— what sparkled was his eyes, and something in her chest when he laughed quietly and said, “Or everything gets covered in mud.” She grinned. “Like us.” He nodded and laughed again, and she took a fistful of mud and patted it down over one of his lovely warm hands. “Rain makes things— new,” she said, and she thought she was going to smile at him but then she was too shy so she smiled at the ground instead. “Yes,” he said softly, while she proceeded to bury his other hand in the wet earth. “I think— it makes the tired world beautiful again.” They breathed for a moment with nothing but those words between them, and then he said, “Rhen?” She looked up at him, and now there was nothing between them but breathlessness, and he finished timidly, “You are like the rain, for— for me.” She blushed, and smiled, and then she was laughing and leaning over the stupid mud cake at way-past-time-for-sleeping, and saying, “And you are sunshine.” And they sat in the cold, wet, quiet rain with shining eyes and pink cheeks and warm, bright hope inside.
  11. Mu11berry

    Beginnings (AKA Berry has Too Many Feelings)

    Wild Hi, have some angst. I think some aspects of Rhen's character can only really be fully explored by looking at the choices she didn't take. I actually look at all of the non-canon endings for all of the games this way, I think they highlight some of the fears and flaws the characters have which we might not notice otherwise, and they make a statement about who the character is not, but I think I might be the only one who takes analysis this far, heh. I just really love Aveyond. So anyway here is an exploration of what the "choose to go back to Thais but bail and go to Clearwater" option means for Rhen. Notes at the end in a spoiler box to avoid... spoilers, even though really everything is pretty straightforward. ________________________________________ "You are too wild," she had told him, and she'd meant it. He was unstable, she couldn't trust him, so she left him standing in the village square, while she ran off with Danny to reclaim the normal life she was supposed to have, the life she wanted. And he had gone on to Thais, like he said he would. She knew because of the address on his letter. One letter, years later, when she thought she had nearly forgotten everything. It seemed almost ridiculous. She refused to read it at first. She hid it in every corner of the house, trying to forget it but unable to throw it away. She couldn't explain why. She had told Danny it was from one of the druids— it was almost true. Danny had only nodded distractedly, and headed out to explore the caves again. As a mapmaker, he was always looking for new things. Rhen wanted only to hide, to cling to the familiar, to never open her eyes or her heart to anything different, ever again. But the letter, it haunted her. It reminded her of his dark brown eyes, staring into her, and his soft voice echoed in her head every time she shoved it into another hiding place— But I thought you loved me. And she had thought she loved marionbells, and apples littering the ground, and Ma and Pa— she did love those things. They made her smile. But it was the sunrise that made her cry. So one early morning, as she watched the light slowly spread over the mountains, she finally opened the letter— Are you ready, Rhen?— and she read it, hoping maybe now she could forget, maybe now she could move past this. Maybe, finally, she could find peace. Rhen, it began, and she could hear the way he said it, slowly, quietly, without any malice at all. He told her about Thais. It was not so desolate anymore. They were rebuilding. They had blasted through the mountains and opened up a dock, there were travelers again. There were even farming villages. There was even an apple orchard. He told her about the people. They were not angry at her. They wished her luck in all her endeavors. They hoped she had found the freedom her mother never had. They hoped she was happy. Happy. That's all she had wanted, wasn't it? To smile again, and not worry about what happened in the rest of the world. Why wasn't she smiling? He told her, in broken, scattered sentences, what he was doing. The Priestesses had opened a hospital, like the one in Dirkon, but without rats. He worked there with them, and the sick and injured came to their doors, every day, unfailingly. There is always more suffering. He did what he could for them. Sometimes, it was not enough. I hope they can find peace. She was not sure there was any of that left to be had. I am sorry I could not be stable for you. I hope you are safe now. I hope you are happy. She was safe. Nothing could get to her here. And she was happy, except when she remembered. I am sorry for what you have lost. Lost— she could only lose herself. The rest, she had never had. I would restore it if I had a way. But nothing could be done, she had been around the world and never found a cure for loss. I love you. The words were written shakily, crossed out three times only to be written again— I love you, still, as I promised. I hope this is not painful for you. It hurts to write. It hurts more to leave it unsaid. I am not as brave as you. Brave. She had not thought of that word for a long time. Bravery was for questers, for people who didn't know what would come next, where they would go, what they would do. Bravery was not for quiet villages, or the people who hid from the world in them. It was not for her. Bravery was wild. She was tame. Or— maybe she was only caged, locked in her own fears. She was happy, sometimes. But like a captive bird, her wings were clipped. You do not need to reply. I know you want to forget. I never can. He had signed his name, and her eyes ran over the letters again and again. Dameon. She was the wild one, wild but chained to her doubts. He was tame, but she had taken him into the wilderness and left him lost there. She could not undo it. She only hoped his gentle heart would lead him somewhere full of light. _________________________________________________________
  12. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    Hi, I am back with art Day 29 of the challenge is favorite character of av4, so here is a Myst. All of the av4 characters are cool, I also have soft spots for Robin and Phye, and the others are pretty cute too, but Myst is definitely the one I think about the most. She can turn into a dog! And she will go to the ends of Aia to find her brother, which I think is pretty great. Also, she definitely has freckles. I tried to draw her without freckles but the laws of the universe prevented me. She's a mist wraith who spends time in the sun, they're definitely there. Definitely. Next, I have many, many doodles of Rhen I guess only six, haha, but there are more where those came from >.> I just really like drawing Rhen, so I do it all the time. When I should be paying attention. And taking notes. Which I did not do, clearly. Speaking of which! I also once made 2 punnet squares and a pedigree chart explaining Rhen's hair color instead of taking notes in a genetics class, and I found that recently so I'll share it and also my ridiculously long explanation in this next lil spoiler box. Be warned, it is kinda long, heh And here's a Rhen comforting a Dameon, because it was about time I drew it Both Rhen and Dameon lost a lot, very early in their lives. I think most of the time Dameon would be helping Rhen to deal with these losses. He's been living with his loss for longer. He's known about it for longer. For Rhen it is new. But I also think Dameon never really let himself mourn. Nobody else was mourning, no one would have approved of his grief, no one could have been there with him while he worked through it. He probably didn't even know where to start. He didn't even let himself acknowledge half his losses-- because in a way, he lost his mother and his childhood too. And I think Rhen would be the person he could be sad with. She's very kind, and compassionate, and sturdy, and Dameon can be himself around her, maybe even more than he could if he was alone. And she helps him acknowledge his losses in the game, which I think is huge for him. I think sometimes one of the kindest things you can do for another person is just to be sad with them, and help them know that it's okay to be sad sometimes. And looking back, I think Rhen and Dameon played a huge role in helping me learn this for myself. So here they are, doing one of the most important and lovely things humans are capable of. And by the way, the sun is rising.
  13. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @callmedan You're welcome! I hope you had a great day, you deserve it!
  14. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    Sharing Sorrow Sorry to have two angst pieces in a row, but this is important. Happens sometime soon after the party first goes to Thais. This piece means a lot to me; read gently:) _____________________________________________________ He heard her door creak open, in one of those silent hours between midnight and dawn that was neither morning nor night, that was nothing but dark. Her boots scuffed against the stone floor of the hall, and he knew where she was going. There was only one place that kept a person awake into these hours, only one place to go when the darkness was this heavy. The grieving never needed to be told where it was, they would find it, they were pulled to it, like moths to light— except there was no light, only stillness. He followed her, because— He had been there alone, so many times. The cemetery in Thais was much bigger than the one he was familiar with. He moved carefully around the graves— there were so many, there had been so much death— Only one would call Rhen’s name. Only one would be familiar to her restless heart. He found her kneeling in front of a headstone, her hand pressed against it, fingers tracing the letters carved on its face— he did not need to look at the name. Everything in her posture told him, she had found what called her here. He whispered a spell to conjure a small light, and he cradled it in his hands as he approached her, slowly. He did not know what he would say to her, no one had ever said anything to him— except Rhen. Rhen had said, “I’m sorry.” She glanced up at him as he approached, and squinted at the light. He cupped his hand over it, softening it, and slowed to a stop, only close enough that she could hear him. “Rhen.” She looked back at the headstone. “Hi, Dameon.” “I— I didn’t want you to be alone.” She didn’t answer. “I’m— sorry, Rhen,” he said, and wished he knew anything else to say. “She— she must have been brave.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” He swallowed, and she shifted and patted the ground beside her. “Will you— sit with me?” He did. His knees were used to the dirt of grave yards. The headstone towered above their kneeling forms and the tiny light between his hands flickered in its shadow. There were many things carved on the stone, lineage and ranks, deeds done, dates and places— What Rhen’s fingers traced, over and over, was the name. Alicia Pendragon. “She died.” Her usually light, cheerful voice cracked with bitterness. He wished it had never come to this. If he could take the ache from her soul and swallow it into his own, he would. But the ache, he knew, was emptiness, and he’d never learned how to fill it. “I’m sorry, Rhen.” “I— I wasn’t— ready.” There was a small, tremulous breath, and then— “I’m still not— ready— I— she just— left me! Alone!” Her eyes flashed and she hit the headstone with the side of her fist. “She abandoned me! They abandoned me! I— I—” She was crying, her breaths came in stifled squeaks which, he remembered, felt more like drowning than breathing, and the only thing he knew to do was sit beside her and hold up the light. He would not leave her in the dark. He had been there alone, so many times. “I lost them,” she choked. “Do you know— how that— feels?” He remembered. It hurt to remember but he couldn't help it. “Yes,” he breathed, and he cradled the light in one hand and with the other carefully reached out to press his fingertips to her shaking shoulder. “I know how that feels.” What he didn’t know was how to stop feeling it. She leaned her head against the stone and he felt her trembling under one of his palms while the light wavered in the other, and she didn’t make another sound. Words did not belong here. The silence was sacred. He read the tombstone in the pale brightness. Alicia Pendragon. Queen of Thais. If only she had taken the title with her. She had been young when she died, not much older than Rhen was now. But she had been dead for nearly as long as Rhen had been alive, over seventeen years. The darkness seemed to creep closer to them, despite all the energy he was feeding into the light. He could not remember the world seventeen years ago, but he thought maybe it had seemed— nicer. Yet here was proof that parents had still died. Gods had betrayed their people. His father had been right— there was no justice in Aia. And yet— it was said that Ahriman had destroyed this city. That’s what they told him, and he didn’t know if his father would say any different. He had learned long ago that the dead did not answer. And still Rhen bowed her head, and all he could do was rub her shoulder and whisper this little half-comfort, this almost-accusation: “If my father— hadn’t done what he did, she might still be alive.” Rhen traced Alicia’s name again, her hands trembling. “That was your father’s choice, Dameon. I don’t blame you.” The light flickered faintly. “Perhaps you should.” “Dameon,” she chided. “I know what he chose,” he reminded her, and then he tried not to breathe, not to say the next words that rose up in his throat, like bile. He hadn't dared to express them for so long, he had kept them locked in himself, piercing him, rotting him, but now they spewed out, convulsively— "—I still love him." And now, after so much time, the tears flowed, dropping onto the cold, unforgiving stone of a stranger’s grave, and the light in his palm wavered in the darkness like his lonely soul. Little fingers brushed against his other hand, and settled at his elbow, and Rhen was there to sit beside him in his grief. “I’m sorry, Dameon.” Sorry. Sorrow could not revive the dead, the fates were unforgiving, the gods cruel. Love always led to desolation. And Rhen always accepted it with a firm jaw and soft eyes. “What was he like?” she asked him quietly, leaning her tired head against his arm and looking down at the light he was trying to hold. It was fading, it was barely a glow. He stared up at the unpitying headstone, and breathed in the cold night air, and remembered. “He was… He used to take me exploring, when he wasn’t… busy…” His throat felt dry and the words were like sand in his mouth. It was easy to remember that his father was dead, that part clung to him, like his shadow. It fueled his resolve, and his anger, and— It was hard to remember what came before. That stayed twisted around his core and if he unravelled it— everything would fall apart. He tried to swallow but there was something sharp and bitter in his throat, and Rhen wrapped her hands around his arm, and breath by breath he came undone. “He… he taught me magic. We helped the binis, and the fairies sometimes—” And he would have been ashamed of the way the tears streamed down Dameon’s face. If he reached up to dry them the light would go out. He couldn’t let go of the light. “He kept flowers… for… my mother.” The words hung in the air and he waited for the blinding relief of rage but he only felt bruised, deep in his gut, and he cried harder and Rhen’s hands tightened around his arm. “He was strong, and… diligent.” He never gave up, not on anything, he had a fierce, unrelenting soul— “He was my hero—” Dameon choked. He was in a thousand quivering pieces, he would have scattered in the cold night wind except for Rhen’s fierce grip on him— “He was— like— you—” he said, and he bowed his head and he wept and wept. She was sturdy and strong and the world would destroy her too, it destroyed every honest thing. And the light was dying and— “Rhen— I can’t—- keep the light— here—” Her jaw was firm and her eyes were soft, and she reached up and brushed little fingers over his tears. “Then let the darkness come.” He trembled, and fought, and then— She pressed her face into his robes, and the way she shivered was familiar to him, it had nothing to do with the cold wind and everything to do with the bare broken feeling in her chest— and— he could hold on to the light or her, not both, and he reached for her blindly as the night swallowed them whole. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—” he murmured into her hair, sorrow was useless but it was all he had, and now she was crying into his shoulder, and trembling violently in his arms, and her hot breath burned her questions into his neck, will you stay with me? — and he felt like a rope stretched taut, she wanted someone to keep her secured and he had frayed edges. But he wouldn’t fail this time. He would just never let go— her quivering nose tickled his collarbone, and he kissed her hair and cried into it and they clung to each other and breathed in the shadows and waited for the slow, quiet sun to return to the broken world. And he held her close, and she held him together.
  15. Mu11berry

    Ladies and Gentlemen, I have arrived! :P

    I see you have decided to join us. Fashionably late, as usual. Welcome!
  16. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    @darwin Thank you, Cough was so fun to write and those were all the most important things I was trying to convey and I can't believe it actually worked a little? Thank you so much T.T And haha Marge and Lars and... all of them, I love them and I'm glad they came across well! ________________________________________________________ Sooo we are back to angst guys. I reread these next few pieces and cried, mostly because I'm a sap but also because they deal with some stuff that is hard to think about, so please take care of yourselves and find some fluff to follow this up with if you are like me. I promise cute pieces are coming soon (and also this piece does feature one of my favorite accidental oc's for reasons which will be obvious in like the second to last oneshot, so at least there is that). ________________________________ Dark Places Thais is abandoned and ruined and Rhen has nothing in common with the people there. Nothing at all. ________________________________ Gray brick. That was what her future was made out of. It loomed above her, hard and cold and impassable. Unalterable. She hated it. She wanted to run from it. Instead she turned to her companions, and told them to split up and look for an inn. They were going to sleep here, in this gray city. They had no choice. The blasted lands were dangerous. The rogues and red wolves would only get more vicious as night fell. So she walked North on the gray brick streets, and under gray brick arches, and between towering walls of gray, gray, gray. It swallowed her whole. She didn't want this. She tried to tell herself that she didn't belong here, that her father was a shoemaker, and her mother was a seamstress— Daddy, I have a serious question to ask you. Am I your real daughter? It had seemed an absurd question. This was the man who had carried her on his shoulders through her whole childhood. He had made her every pair of shoes she'd ever worn, until— until she'd gone away. Until now. Now her shoes were made of dragon scales and they glimmered faintly in what little sickly light could filter through the thick clouds hanging in the sky. It felt like it had always been overcast here, and yet Rhen knew it would never really rain, just like Pa had never really answered her question. Before you were born, I served as a general to the King and Queen of Thais. A royal general. Not a shoemaker, then. She was not a shoemaker's daughter. So who was she? The king and queen of Thais had a daughter, the child who would defeat the demon. The child. That's what Talia had called her, too. And the Empress of the Eastern Isle, and the Oracle. The child— she wasn't a child! She was too old to be bossed around. And yet— And yet here she was, doing exactly what they had all told her to do. Or almost exactly what they had all told her to do— Ma had told her she was a princess, she should be happy. Pa had told her to remember Thais, that it was her duty. She didn't want to be a princess. She didn't want Alicia's ring— her mother's ring. She didn't want her parents country. Parents. Devin and Alicia were not her parents. Her father was a shoemaker and her mother was a seamstress— a shoemaker and a seamstress, she tried to make it seem true again, but the weight of the sword on her back said otherwise. In other cities, in Clearwater especially, people stared at her swords, and her shoulder pads and heavy boots and— everything. But in Thais, no one stared. She fit right in. Nearly everyone here wore their armor, riddled with the damage of hundreds of battles, polished so that it shined even under the overcast sky. And everyone here walked slowly, with their eyes down, carrying weights in their hearts not less demoralizing than the burdens Rhen had carried as a slave. Everyone in Thais would rather be somewhere else. Rhen wanted to be home, with her parents. Her parents, the shoemaker and the seamstress. Not the strangers who had once ruled this now desolated land. Thais used to be grand, one woman had told her. It had been the greatest city in all the kingdoms. It used to be surrounded by unexplored forests stretching for miles, and there had been cool, clear mountain streams running everywhere, and the land was dotted with farming villages instead of long, lonely stretches of burnt earth and endless gray. Everything was so empty now. And— there weren't any inns anywhere! She kicked a wall, a stupid gray brick wall, and it hurt even through her heavy boots so she scowled and kicked it again— "Halt!" a voice shouted. She turned to see one of the guards running towards her, pulling his sword out. She reflexively reached back for her own sword and he stopped several paces away from her, weapon ready. "Are you a citizen of Thais?" he barked, his voice echoing harshly from under his heavy helmet. "I— no, I am a traveler—" He half-raised his sword and she held her own in front of her defensively. "Are you a demon?" he asked. "What? No, I am a traveler! I am just looking for an inn!" "A traveler!" he scoffed. "We have not seen outlanders for nearly seventeen years. Prove to me you are not a demon in disguise!" "A demon in disguise?" This was ridiculous, she didn't need to be arguing with a paranoid guard, she just wanted to rest, somewhere far away from here— "Who are you?" he demanded. "I— I—" She was not a shoemakers daughter, not a simple peasant— who was she?— "I—" "Rhen?" She half-turned to see Dameon hurrying towards her— of course he would find her when she was in the middle of a standoff— "Pirate John found an inn, do you want to— want to— what— what are you doing?" The guard turned, brandishing his weapon now at Dameon. "Who is this?" "This is my— we are— he is the Sun Priest!" she babbled— she wanted to say— more, but it all seemed too much, suddenly, and she could hardly say anything to mollify this guard, he still looked at them through narrowed, distrustful eyes. "Please," Dameon began, calmly, "we are not here to cause trouble. We are only travelers." "Why would you travel to Thais?" the guard demanded; Rhen wondered the same thing herself, especially now— "This is a desolated city. The gods have abandoned us. We cannot protect our own citizens. What could you want here?" He raised his sword to point the tip at Dameon's throat, and Rhen's hands were white on her own weapon— "Answer me!" Dameon only stared at him, his dark eyes wide with— With— Something sad and soft that wasn't fear at all, and he finally said, quietly, "We came here to help." Help. Was it really that simple? The guard scoffed, and pushed his sword closer to Dameon— he had better— he'd better not— But Dameon just looked at him calmly, and slowly the guard's sword fell to his side. "Move along then," he muttered, and sheathed his weapon. "You won't want to be out in the streets after dark." With that he left— really, it was that easy? — And Dameon turned to Rhen, and shuffled his feet a bit, and held out his arm for her to take. "John found an inn. Do you want to go?" "Dameon— weren't you nervous at all?" "What?" "The guard—" she sheathed her sword, and took his arm— he was crazy, that was the only explanation. He smiled down at her. "I knew you would not let him hurt me." Well— that was true. "Where's the inn?" she asked. "In the southern half of the city." He gestured with his free arm, and started walking that way. "It's by a ring shop," he said, and then, with an almost conspiratorial grin, "I think Elini will approve of the location." The gray brick seemed so much less imposing when she was not alone, and the overcast sky looked more like rain every moment. "I don't like rings," she blurted, and then blushed. She was thinking of one very specific ring, with a dragon engraved in its gold band. And— also that small silver ring with the blue stone, the one that had gotten her into this whole mess in the first place. "Oh," he stammered, his smile slipping. "I— I don't think they're so bad." She looked hard at the ground. The path was gray brick, like everything else. "You can have mine, then." "I— What?" Now she was definitely red. "I mean— the sigma ring. I— I don't— want it." He was quiet. She could feel his eyes on her, waiting, and finally he said, in his low, soothing way, "What do you want?" There was a pebble on the ground, and she kicked it ahead of her. It was gray, too. "I don't know." She kicked the pebble again and it rolled behind a barrel. The barrel, at least, was brown. But it was probably empty. "Thais is a lonely place." He didn't answer at first. She wouldn't have heard him if he had. She was walking beside him, but she was far, far away, in a tiny mountain town, looking for a little girl she had lost a long time ago. "Rhen?" He called her out of her dark place so gently she didn't notice herself turning to face him— not until she was looking up into his eyes, sad and sympathetic and— this time, a little afraid. "I— the people here— have no one to help them." He began slowly, his voice so low she had to strain to hear. "They've had to fight for themselves. They— I guess what I mean is— they have been through a lot. And you— you also— are you lonely, Rhen?" She swallowed. She wasn't sure how to answer, how to say yes, how to be so terribly exposed. "I— I want to help these people. But I— I don't— know." His eyes were soft and dark and not gray at all. "No one else will help them." "No." She remembered her helpless days. Sometimes she thought she was still in them. "They... are brave, to have lasted so long." Brave. What a word, for a hopeless people. "Rhen." He had stopped walking, they were standing in a courtyard. The inn was in front of them— it really did exist— and he was brushing her hair behind her ear, and tilting her chin up so that she had to look into those stupid dark eyes. "You... You have a lot to think about. And... it is okay if you feel lost. But I think... I think you will find your way. I... I..." he seemed to hesitate, and she knew what he was about to say was something he hadn't said for a long time, maybe forever, and he finished quietly, "I trust you." Those were heavy words— what if she failed? What if she stayed lost, forever and ever— But instead of afraid, her heart felt lighter, somehow, and she felt her lips relaxing into a small smile, maybe because— because— After everything, she was not alone.
  17. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @darwin Re: AP piece, thank youu, that's so good to hear!! Or read or whatever, haha. And Re: RhenxDameon thank you again, oh my gosh. The pose is based on a moment in one of the later oneshots of In Pieces (like #40 or something, near the end) and that was inspired by this sprite edit which @@Queen-of-Ice101 made so compliments and many thanks to her <3 @Ishti Don't die, haha! But she is supposed to look ready to murder someone maybe so thanks XD And thank you! Ajgrjkwle I can't take credit for how nice they look together, it is Amanda's fault for picking such a nice color scheme for them The beard! The short answer is no but the long answer is yes so let me explain myself. Dameon is a lil rebel and also a huge nerd, and I think his hairstyle is kind of his way to rebel against the control of the Oracle and Talia without actually really rebelling, kind of like testing the boundaries? Like how some people wear mismatched socks just because they can, or lace their shoes backwards or whatever. Sorta the same concept. But once he is with Rhen questing around the world and kind of out from under the thumb of the Oracle and Talia, I think the need to like, set himself apart from them would fade a bit, and also he is in the process of softening to them so again, it would be less important to rebel. And since the beard definitely requires maintenance, I think as it became less important he would just shave it off and save time. The haircut probably stays because it's easier to shave most of your hair off then comb it all, you know? But the beard would probably go. HOWEVER, I usually try to stick with the sprite appearance when drawing fanart, so that's not the reason I don't draw it. I just kind of... uh... forget it exists? I edited the beard out of the faceset I use for the game so I don't see it every time I play, and also, I have the memory of a goldfish. And I am bad at drawing facial hair, haha. So, yes, there is a ridiculous headcanon, but no, there is not a reason besides absent-mindedness and not liking the result the few times I do remember ahaha. ________________________________________________ So I think it is @callmedan's birthday in his timezone, so happy birthday Dan!! Here is a Devin as the Druid of Light for you! Here's a question, if Devin never studied magic or joined any kind of priest guild of any sort, but he is now the druid of light by word of Goddess, is he also a sun priest? Or can the two be separate? Be boggled with me. Both interpretations are interesting, I think. Here's for day 28 of the Aveyond 31 day fandom challenge, otp of AP! (That's bigger than I realized it would be o.o) I love Talia and Devin, but I like them together like a century or so after AV1, they need time to learn how to communicate and stuff. Also listen, Talia was already the slowest mover in all of Aia, and after all that happened to him Devin would need time too. So since this prompt is about AP, I drew Jack and Alicia, my crackship otp forever <3 They literally never interact but if they did, it'd be magic. They need to get together and cause mischief in the afterlife. In this pic they stole something so now they have to run away from the guards (which I was too lazy to draw haha). What did they steal? My heart. I tried a new coloring style (again haha), and I sorta like it and sorta do not XD Aaand here is some rhenxdameon! I finally redrew that one messy sketch I shared a while back!! (link to the messy piece on deviantart if you're curious) Excuse my ranting but I just really love these two, they've been through so much and still found the courage to love and that's so inspiring and beautiful to me. Dameon is always there to support and encourage Rhen, Rhen is always there to help Dameon through his struggles, and they both would give their lives for each other (and canonly pretty much did, I will never be over it). Dameon loves Rhen in every single possible ending, which is just. Exactly what she needs, just somebody who will still be there for her no matter what. And Rhen risks everything to save Dameon, which is exactly what he needs, somebody who will bring him back to himself when he is lost. The courage and peace they find in each other and the way they sacrifice for each other and choose each other every time is the definition of love for me, I'm just so grateful for these two characters and all the joy they have added to my life and everything they've taught me, and now I will try to stop because I am becoming emotional, I am sorry, thank you for reading my rhenxdameon rambling, I love them (I said that twice khjjgwa but it's true)
  18. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @darwin Hahaha! That happens to me all the time, I think we need more allotted likes per day. We have to spread the Aveyond love, right? And aaahh thank you, and thanks and thanks, I love Te'ijalahad, and Rhen/Dameon obviously, and also Stella and uh, all of them, thank you, I try _______________________________________________ Okay so I kinda have a lot of art today because as usual I never remember to post when I actually finish a piece, but this time I let it build up a bit more, heh. I'll keep explanations in the spoiler box with the pics because otherwise this post will be very long and I already posted a really long thing today First, day 24, "character you originally disliked and now love" Day 25, "notp of av3" Day 26, "fave AP character" And I have two arts which I made as gifts for @moonpeace (she probably won't see this tag but I wanted to include it in case anyone wanted a convenient link to her profile, hahaha) And of course RhenxDameon, drawn in a similar style to the AP piece cuz I was trying to practice haha
  19. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    @darwin Aaahhh thank you! I will now respond to literally everything as usual and it will as usual be heckin long; thank you for this opportunity to rant about what I love. Me Too: Yayy good I am so glad you liked that line, I'm always worried that when I write Rhen being slightly irritated with anyone or anything that it comes across as ME being irritated and I love them all so I really don't mean that, glad it was enjoyable! And thank you aaahhhhh Chocolate: Te'ijal is a treasure and I'm so glad I can do her justice at all! THANK YOU for liking that line, it was one of the ones I fretted over haha. And I'm so glad the chocolate/kiss came off sweet, I feel like a liar confusing Rhen and readers like that but it was for the greater good Reckless: AGAIN thank you, another line I almost deleted 80 times at least. And thank you, that's what I was going for and it's so nice to know it's working a little!! And don't be heartbroken, there is fluff coming up I promise (and some angst later but FLUFF WILL PREVAIL) Given the Choice: Aaahhh you are making me too happy, I will burst. Rhen is my fave, thank you so much for appreciating my feeble attempts to portray her And I'm SO GLAD Dameon's important feels naturally portrayed, sometimes I feel like I'm just writing "AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER! SO MUCH, THEY ARE LIKE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY'RE GOING TO GET MARRIED!! DID I MENTION THEY LOVE EACH OTHER?!??!?!" so it's nice to know you don't feel beat over the head or anything haha. And I appreciate that pun. So much, thank you Do You Mind: Again, thank you for appreciating my characterizations, I love these guys so much. And also, really, truly, thank you for appreciating how I tried to show Rhen working through her feelings in a healthy way. One of my favorite things about Rhen and Dameon is that in canon they have these emotions, which I think are very normal things for humans to feel sometimes, but instead of either of them being like "oh, how cute" they both always try to work through their feelings in positive ways, and that effort is what's celebrated. I always worry with this one that I didn't get that across, so it means a lot to me that you noticed <3 Serious Matters: Okay so I used to always see Rhen's ridiculous decisions that way too, until I decided to talk to the Mountain King like, 4 playthroughs ago I think? And Rhen made that joke and I had to reevaluate my entire life, haha. I'm glad you liked the idea! Back and Forth: Dameon always makes me have feelings too, nice to have someone to suffer with, thanks for joining me. Aahh Rhen's connection to strength is one of my favorite things, and then combined with Dameon's obvious disconnection with it (in the physical form anyway) just makes me <3 <3 And 1) Thank you but 2) I can't really take credit for the idea, it is Dameon's fault. He already has experience with death which I think makes him more prone to this trope, and then also because he's so young and doesn't really have any of the like, stoicism most immortals seem to develop... it just happened itself, you know? Softly: THANK YOU FOR LAUGHING I had too much fun naming all the animals, I shouldn't be allowed to write shorts about pets but here we are. Thank you for appreciating all my stupid fluff haha Ridiculous: Again, this is one that I always worry I didn't make the importance of the "working through it" part clear enough in, so thank you so much for noticing! And thank you so much also for appreciating it, I really can't tell you how much that means to me ________________________________________________________________ Okay I know this post is already long BUT today it has been 2 years since I posted the first oneshot on fanfiction.net so I wanted to celebrate by updating! (I also updated there but I'm much further along, haha) This next piece is fluffy x18209289088208 so prepare yourself. I wrote it to cheer myself up while writing an angst piece and those ones always get more than their fair share of sap, haha. Also, I am too excited right now to focus on looking for typos so sorry if this piece has any, I promise to return to it soon when I have calmed down XD ___________________________________ Cough So, I know Dameon can heal a lot of things and maybe the common cold should be on that list. But... what if it wasn't? And if it wasn't, what if Rhen caught a cold? And what if I wrote a sickeningly fluffy piece about it and threw in lots of horrible teases and wonderfully unrealistic misfortunes that *somehow* turned out fortunate for my shipping purposes? What if? Some non-important details that might confuse you if I don’t mention them: Rhen's Pa (Taylor) is a shoemaker, and the Sedona manor has a dining room and a kitchen, and said kitchen, for whatever reason, also has chairs and tables in it. _______________________________________ She was trying her best to save the world, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that her best was decidedly lacking. For one, she really had intended to leave Sedona by now, but there had been one thing after another, and now— Cough— Now she was— Cough— Sick— Cough— "Rhen, are you all right in there?" Dameon's voice sounded muffled through the heavy oak door. Or maybe it sounded muffled because her head was all clogged up. "I'm fine!" she managed through her dry throat. Cough! "Are you— sure?" She choked down the cough that was trying to escape. "Yeah," she squeaked. "I'm fine." "Oh— okay. Well— um— breakfast is ready." "Okay," she said. "Thank you." And then she grumbled to herself about having to get up at all— and why of all times did she have to catch a cold now? Shouldn't fate grant the chosen one some kind of immunity to stuff like this? Couldn't it just wait until after all this was over? But no, apparently not. Whatever. She was just going to have to suck it up. She pushed the blankets off herself and sat up groggily, and immediately decided it was too dang cold in this house and she was taking her blanket with her, and that was that. She looked around the room for her boots, but she couldn't find them. She was too tired and sick for this. What was the point of shoes, anyway? She felt guilty for thinking it; shoes were her Pa's living, after all. But— blast it! They weren't worth all this trouble. Her head was spinning. She was not going to bother with shoes, not today. She exited the room, barefoot, and slammed the door behind her. It can be difficult to walk down a hall while wrapped up in a large quilt that drags on the ground, especially when said hall is the designated gathering place for a multitude of pets and that multitude includes a tiger and a dog (had No taken her shoes??) and two flappy flying things and also a very cute but very finicky cat. But Rhen was nothing if not perseverant— Okay, all right, stubborn, she was nothing if not stubborn. But anyway she made it through the hall to the kitchen, where Lars, Elini, and Galahad had tried to start an assembly line for piling food on their plates, and where Pirate John and Mad Marge were ignoring all such attempts at imposing order and were stuffing their faces without discretion. Briefly she considered joining the latter group, but her nose was stuffy and her lungs were sore and anyway the floor was cold. She wanted to sit down, and that meant she'd need a plate. So to the back of the assembly line she went. "Good morning, sword singer," Elini said, noticing her first. "I take it you are a bit tired today?" Rhen grunted and grabbed a plate. "M'lady," Galahad began scoldingly, "it is not decent to carry your bedding around like that!" "Mmph," Rhen argued articulately, then forked a couple pancakes onto her plate. Actually she forked most of the remaining pancakes onto her plate. Because she wanted to. "Oh, is that Rhen?" Lars said. "I thought Mad Marge must have a sister I hadn't met yet or something." "Whatever," Rhen yawned. And then she coughed, and dumped a lake of blueberry syrup onto her pancakes. She dodged around Pirate John and Mad Marge— honestly Mad Marge was terrifying and Rhen didn't want to be anywhere near her, ever— and she went to the dining room to sit down. Or she tried to. Instead she nearly ran into Dameon, who was exiting the dining room with his dirty dishes, and she only barely kept her plate of pancakes from spilling all over the both of them. "Er— hi, Dameon," she said with perfect grace and poise and all that (by which is meant, very little of either). "Good morning, Rhen," he said, and backtracked to pull out a chair for her— Except then they were both shoved inelegantly out of the way by a very agitated Galahad, who apparently intended to start his running around the dining room table early today on account of Te'ijal being right behind him— and Dameon's dishes shattered all over the floor, and Rhen's beautiful pancakes mixed in with all the shards of glass, and in spite of all her best intentions her blueberry syrup ended up all over the front of Dameon's robes. She stammered an apology and tried to wipe off the syrup with her hand that wasn't holding a plate, which proved completely ineffective and actually rather counterproductive and also her blanket had slipped off her shoulders and she was cold— "That's all right," he said, and bent down to pick up her blanket. He wrapped it around her again, and pulled her out of the way of Te'ijal and Galahad who were still running and shouting— and then he took her free hand and she was acutely aware of how sticky her palm was and she felt very foolish and clumsy, and he kissed her fingers and she felt even more stupid, and— now his lips probably tasted like blueberry syrup. This cold was making her crazy. He was frowning down at her, and pressing her hand between both of his, and then he put the back of his hand to her forehead, and drew his eyebrows together. "Rhen," he chided, "you're running a fever." She blushed guiltily. "It's just a stupid cold." "You need rest," he said, looking very serious and resolute and also unduly— well, cute, and you know, maybe he was right because she really ought to have a better hold on herself. But she tried huffing indignantly anyway. Unfortunately it came out as more of a cough, and his face did not change. Not even a little. "It won't do anyone any good if you exhaust yourself," he said firmly. So she tried glaring. That was a stupid idea because he never could withstand her glares for very long, and now he looked flustered and his lips were parted and— If nothing else, she had to get ahold of herself so that she didn't get him sick, too. She sighed. "Fine! Fine! I'll rest. After I get more breakfast." She turned on her heel to do that, but he caught her shoulder and she whirled back around to face him— she had miscalculated and there was his face, right in front of her and very close and also very pink— "Don't— don't step on the glass—" he stammered, and then he was interrupted— "DARK CREATURE! WHEN WILL YOU CEASE TORMENTING ME??!" Galahad sped past them again, with Serpent Spawn close behind him, and the fragments of Dameon's plate crunched beneath his heavy boots— "You are so appetizing when you flirt, lambchop!!" Te'ijal answered, neatly leaping over the now-even-more-scattered glass and continuing her chase. Rhen stared down at the glittering shards— there was no way she could leap over them like Te'ijal, especially not in her blanket. "Of all the days to not wear my stupid boots," she muttered angrily, and hit her forehead against the nearest thing— which was Dameon's chest. Which still had blueberry syrup all over it. And now there was syrup all over her forehead. Great. She pouted. "How am I supposed to get out of here?" Dameon looked thoughtful, and then he looked embarrassed, and he had to clear his throat a couple times before he could say, "Well— I could— I could carry you out." She almost laughed. Dameon, carrying her, with syrup all over his robes and her wrapped up in her stupid blanket with her toes poking out the ends— and his arms wrapped around her and his chin resting on her hair and— "Can you even lift me?" He blushed. "I— you— I've carried you before." "What? No, you haven't!" That was impossible, she would remember that. "After battles, when you pass out— I— I have to get you somewhere safe somehow! I— it isn't— um— it’s just—" he stopped himself and seemed to catch his breath and looked down. "I'm sorry, I am being very foolish. I just— would you like me to carry you?" Well. She would like that very much, but for all the wrong reasons. "Yes, please." Too late, it was out of her mouth. He could lift her— she squeaked when her feet left the floor, and his robes were even more sticky than she had thought, and she knew she looked completely ridiculous cocooned in her quilt, with her empty plate balanced precariously in her lap and syrup smeared all over her and her face all pink— because of the cold, of course, and— but— He was so soft and warm. She snuggled into his sticky chest and felt very safe and contented and she didn't even care much when Mad Marge sneered at them as she passed, and Lars shook his head and Elini smirked and Pirate John winked— Actually that last one made her a little uncomfortable and she glared at him over Dameon's shoulder. And then Dameon turned the corner into the kitchen, which was now pretty much empty except for a considerable mess caused by the eating habits of a certain bar maid. Rhen moved to slide to the floor but instead Dameon set her neatly in a chair. And then— he was smiling at her and leaning down and she didn't know if she was terrified or elated— But he only kissed her forehead. Then he laughed, and she noticed that he definitely had syrup on his mouth now. "You are very sticky today," he told her. Then he looked at his robes. "I'm very sticky today!" She started to laugh, but then she was coughing again and— He rubbed her back, carefully, until her chest relaxed and the coughing stopped, and he mumbled, "I'm sorry Rhen, I— I wish I could do more." "Don't be silly," she said hoarsely, absently rubbing at the syrup on her forehead with the hand that was less sticky. "Here, let me—" he said, and before she could quite figure out what he meant he had turned around and was pumping water onto a dishtowel, and then he was turning back around and scrubbing her forehead with it, and then her hands, and she felt clean and also red. Definitely red. She tried to think of something normal to say but all she could think of was syrup, and instead she said, "Don't forget you," and she reached out to poke his mouth— And he was red, too, and finally, finally he scrubbed the syrup off his lips, and now she could stop thinking about it. Actually not really. Actually not at all. He had turned around again, taking her plate this time, and he was putting the last two pancakes on it— only two— and pouring the rest of the syrup on them, and then he slid the plate in front of her, and— "I guess I should go change. And—" his eyes swept over her, "and I'll get you another blanket. That one's all— sticky—" It was, but only on the outside, and it was probably going to get stickier when she ate these pancakes— But he was gone before she could say any of that. The pancakes had gotten cold by now. But they were still delicious. She wanted more. She glared at the empty counters— well, they were empty besides the mess. What she should do was help clean. It wasn't like Mad Marge was going to come back in and do it. And Te'ijal and Galahad were still running around the dining room table and they weren't likely to stop soon (she could hear their shouting, and Galahad's boots crunching the broken glass). Pirate John might be back to help straighten things up later, before lunch, and if he came Elini would come. And maybe Lars would help, if he was bored enough. He probably wouldn't be. She growled, and pushed her chair away from the little table. She didn't know why there were extra tables in the kitchen. For storage, maybe? For servants to eat their meals on? Who knew! She choked back a cough and stood up. The floor was still freezing. She trudged towards the counters, her blanket dragging behind her— Actually it was catching on something. She whirled around to un-catch it from whatever fiendish piece of furniture was impeding her progress— It was just Softly, the cat, chasing after the end of the blanket like she might chase a string, or like she sometimes chased Dameon's robes. "Softly!" Rhen protested. "My blanket is not a toy!" "Meorw!" Rhen gathered her blanket up around her, the same way she had to gather her skirts when she wore those poofy dresses which for whatever reason were so fashionable here in Sedona— but Softly just jumped after the blanket, purring. Purring! "I'm trying to work, Softly!" "Meow!" She huffed angrily, but— the cat kept chasing her! "Can't you go pick on No or something?" "Meow." Rhen tried hiding behind a chair, but Softly followed. Rhen climbed up on the chair— and Softly was still following her! She put her foot up on the table— "Rhen, what are you doing?" Dameon tried to rush into the room, but instead he smacked his head against the doorframe and looked very disoriented and unbalanced and like he was strongly considering falling over— She jumped off the table, letting her quilt fall behind her (to Softly's great delight)— and she slipped under his arm. He was holding a clean blanket so this was no small feat, especially when her head was all cloggy. "I've got you," she said, and then— she coughed violently into his chest. Some hero she was. But he just said, "Thank you," and he rubbed her back again and pulled the new blanket around her— it was very warm, and soft— and Softly promptly left off playing with the sticky blanket and slinked over to bat at the new one. Cough. "You'd better sit back down," he said, but he was still leaning on her dizzily and she scoffed. "You'd better sit down!" Cough! Cough! "Okay!" she relented. "I'd better sit down! But Dameon," she pouted, "Softly won't leave me alone!" He looked down at the cat, who was now making a great show of trying to climb Rhen's blanket like a curtain— not that she was allowed to climb curtains, but she did, either way. Dameon laughed, and bent down to pick up Softy. And Rhen felt a little betrayed, which was ridiculous, but— "She just wants to play," he told her. Rhen glared at the cat. The cat purred back, and rolled over in Dameon's arms to bat her tiny paws at Rhen. No. Rhen was not going to be fooled by this show, this manipulation dressed as charm. "Look at her!" Dameon cooed. He obviously was fooled by this show. Rhen hmphed. Just because she wasn't cute like the cat! She didn't want to look at Softly. She wanted to eat more, and to take a long nap in the sun and wake up feeling warm and not sick— "She wants you to hold her, Rhen," Dameon said, and plopped the cat into her arms. Rhen went rigid. She did not want to hold the cat— Softly's tail brushed against her face. "Hey!" Rhen protested. "Meorrw!" Softly batted at a loose lock of Rhen's hair, and curled against her chest and purred and was very— well, soft. And warm. Which Rhen appreciated. And— she didn't really like glaring that much, anyway, so instead she smiled and looked up at Dameon. "I guess she is pretty sweet." Dameon smiled and looked at least as cute as the cat, and then he said, "Thank you for getting her, Rhen. It— was very thoughtful of you." Rhen blushed, and then he leaned down to kiss her cheek and she felt like her face was going to burn off— and him cleaning the syrup off his mouth had definitely not helped even a little, and she really, really needed to sit down now. Cough! Cough! Softly jumped out of her arms and she coughed harder and harder. "Dameon—" He was already picking her up again, "It's okay, Rhen. You just need rest." "It— hurts—" she coughed, huddling into the blanket, hiding her face in his chest. She knew she was being a baby. It was just a cold. But her throat was sore and her lungs were tired and— "I know, Rhen," he was saying gently. "I'm sorry." And he really did look sorry, which made her feel a bit better even though everything still ached. "Can you— can you make me some lemon water?" "Lemon water?" He was putting her back in the chair, and sitting beside her. "Lemon— cough— and water, and honey. Ma used to make it for me when I was sick." "Lemon water," he repeated quietly to himself. "I can try that." They had a huge crate of lemons— Mad Marge had insisted on it, yelling something about scurvy and landlubbers and other strange words of that sort. Rhen had objected to it at the time, seeing as someone was going to have to carry the crate, but she was glad to have it now. Dameon found a jug, and he started squeezing some of the lemons into it. But he obviously had no idea what he was doing, and he kept dropping the lemons or getting the juice all over his hands instead of in the container. Rhen thought it was very cute and she couldn't help giggling at him, which made him smile and she liked that, too. "I'm going to be all sticky again," he said, trying to squeeze another lemon. He was starting to get it, sort of— And then it slipped out of his hands and onto the table. He grinned at her sheepishly. "Oops." She laughed and picked up the lemon to hand it back to him. But then her stomach growled. And she got an idea that was either brilliant, or stupid. She licked the lemon. It tasted horrible, sour and— sour, just unforgivingly sour— But the juice felt so nice going down her throat. So she licked it again. Dameon stared at her. "Is that— good?" "It's wonderful," Rhen said, now peeling the lemon to get a wedge. He watched her eat it, and then, hesitantly, peeled out a wedge of the lemon he was squeezing. He slowly brought it up to his mouth, and bit down— And his face puckered, which was an entirely new expression for him, and Rhen laughed and leaned towards him without thinking about it— Cough! Cough! She was going to lose a lung this way— Cough! "Rhen—" He stood quickly, and he was rubbing her back, and checking her temperature— "You really should be in bed." Her chest was too sore to argue. She held out her arms and he picked her up, carefully, like she was made of flower petals, but she didn't mind today because she felt fragile. She felt like she might come apart starting at her lungs— and this was the third time that he was carrying her, and she thought maybe she'd have to start making him carry her everywhere. Maybe not. Maybe she'd better make these decisions when she didn't have a fever. She ought to at least wait until she wasn't cocooned in a blanket like a very large and helpless caterpillar. When he got to her room he had to fumble with the doorknob— she didn't know why she felt the need to slam her door this morning. But he got it open, and he carried her inside and laid her gently on her bed, and kneeled beside her to help arrange her blankets. And she was coughing again— "The lemon water—" she remembered, and tried to sit up— "I'll bring you a glass," he promised, brushing her bangs out of her face. "But I'm— still hungry, too—" "I'll bring you food." He didn't even look annoyed, that was the strange part. "Please, Rhen. Rest. You can go back to saving the world tomorrow." "I don't know— if I can." So far it wasn't working out so well. "I do." His voice was soft but his gaze was firm— he really believed she could, even after all the disasters she'd been a part of. Like today, today definitely counted as a disaster. But— It was hard to doubt him, when he looked like that. And he was always beside her, helping her through all her messes, even when all he could do was rub her back and try to squeeze the juice out of a bunch of stupid lemons. She settled back into her pillows. He was going to take care of her, her best didn't have to be enough for today. She wanted to say thank you, for all of that, but she didn't know where to start and she didn't have the patience, so she held out her arms towards him and muttered, "Come here." He did, very hesitantly, and she hugged him and kissed his cheek. And if he could have just kept his mouth in a straight line after that, she might have been able to forget about it and sleep, but instead she thought of the little o his lips made for the rest of the day.
  20. Mu11berry

    Silly Aveyond Shorts

    @Ishti Never fear, thankfully the cookies were burnt and nobody had to actually consume them XD It seems the Goddess really was watching out for Te'ijal and Galahad after all
  21. Mu11berry

    Silly Aveyond Shorts

    Eeeyyy it's me again. I don't just write fluff, I also write funny stuff and I wanted to share that too. This topic will be shorts inspired by any of the Aveyond games. The only thing most of them will have in common is being humorous. Aveyond characters just lend themselves so nicely to comedy, you know? TABLE OF CONTENTS (cuz I was getting confused about what I shared already hahaaa) Complete Silliness (April 12 2017) The Backpack Incident (April 26, 2017) Priorities (June 12, 2017) A Most Noble and Majestic Pastime (July 9, 2017) Goldfish (August 4, 2017) No Mess (December 6, 2017) Burning (July 26, 2018) Dates are dates posted, not dates written. I wrote most of these when I was maybe 12 so... yeah, heh. ____________________________________________________________________ I had a hard time deciding what fic to start this with, because I wanted to make sure you all know what kind of stuff to expect from this thread. But I think I will begin with a parody of Ahriman's Prophecy and Harry Potter (mostly AP though), entitled "Complete Silliness." It's fitting because that's what everything I post here will be. Here we go! Asterisks (****) mean time has past. __________________ Once upon a time in a fictional land, there lived a handsome Dark Lord named Tom Marvolo Riddle. He hated all things in life -- people, food, rain, sun, even cotton candy -- and yet he was obsessed with living. Alicia Pendragon couldn't understand it at all. Of course, it wasn't her area of expertise. That was Talia and Devin's job. They were the awesome peasant-wizard/knight(s) on a quest to defeat him. And Frederick was the one with a lighting scar on his forehead, to prove he'd survived Tom Marvolo Riddle's cleaning curse. And Jack was the freaky nemesis of Frederick who thought all muggles belonged in Azkaban, but for some reason stayed with Talia and Devin and Frederick. Maybe because he was sort of a muggle. But she'd learned not to remind him of that. As a matter of fact, if she's had it her way, all this would be Alicia's area of expertise. But her father would rather she go to a bancy fall and marry a prandsome hince, or something of that sort. Like the union by marriage of two kingdoms would help the world at all! . . . Well, maybe a little, but it would be much more useful to defeat the Dark Lord. And more exciting. That was why she devised a cunning plan. She would make the Devin-knight like her! And then he would invite her on the quest with him, and of course an honorable princess couldn't refuse a favor from a knight. That was what she would tell her father, anyway... *********** "'JUST A GIRL?' WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" "Boys are better fighters!" The blue-haired knight stated. "WHAT? Oh, I'll show you, YOU STUPID KNI--" "GUYS!" Talia yelled louder than Alicia would have thought possible. "We're supposed to be defeating Tom, here!" There was momentary silence, interrupted only by Frederick's groans. "My head!" The Dark Lord looked equally pained. "Your head? What about my entire body! And my wedding! Ugh, just take the stupid princess! I can't stand to be in your pathetic presence!" And he apparated away... Then back again. "AND DON'T CALL ME TOM! I AM--erm... uh..." "Stupid?" Alicia supplied, very annoyed with all the going-ons. She hated being kidnapped, and her plans to woo Devin were tossed to the wind, because no way was she ever speaking to the jerk again. "Yeah, Stupid!" And then he realized what he was agreeing to. "I mean no, you insolent noble! I am... AHRIMAN!" He apparated away again. "... Ahriman? Is that suppose to be scary?" Jack started laughing. "Sounds- like 'Mary- Ann!'- Fool!" Frederick groaned again and clutched his head. Alicia rolled her eyes. "Well, you rescued me! Congratulations, peasants! As payment for your services, I will now join your quest!" "WHAT?" Devin protested. "You heard her, Devin!" Talia gushed. "Ooh, finally there's another girl! I'm not the only brains anymore!" This what met by general annoyance, except from Alicia, who smirked at the success of her plan. "Ooh, finally! A rich muggle to steal from!" Jack grinned. That put a damper in her mood. ********************* This was it. The end of the war had finally come. That, or the end of the world. Whichever came first. "Aww, not you again!" Ahriman drawled in a whining voice. "Can't you let me take over the world, achieve immortality, and kill muggles in peace?" "Your time on this earth is over, Tom!" Talia proclaimed fiercely. There was a momentary silence, over which only the sound of Frederick's groans could be heard. Talia nudged the dozing knight standing next to her. "Hmm? What? I 'gree with Talia!" He drifted off again. Alicia rolled her eyes. "Die, Ahriman!" "Ooh, you remembered my name!" The Demon Dark Lord gushed. "I should reward you! DEATH EATERS!" Hooded figures immediately appeared beside him. "Yes, my lord?" "Bring this girl my supply of lemon drops! You know, those ones that the Dumbledore forced on us. Remember him? That scary old druid of time?" "Yes, lord." They disapparated. "What? I don't want your lemon drops!" Alicia protested, disgusted. Lord Ahriman made an insulted noise. "Fine, you ungrateful swine! Don't take them!" The death eaters apparated back in and handed Alicia the lemon drops. "DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME?" Ahriman screamed. "NO LEMON DROPS FOR THE UNGRATEFUL SWINE!" The cloaked wizards dropped the candy like a hot potato and cowered. "Sorry, Lor--" "DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK?" The deatheaters shrank back, shaking. Devin rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just defy him?" Ahriman gasped. "HOW DARE YOU-" "COTTON CANDY!" Sang a voice that sounded suspiciously like Jack's. Maybe because it was Jack's. He twirled into the room, glowing, holding bags of fluffy pink perfection. Frederick momentarily forgot to groan. Talia sighed. "Jack, really we don't have ti--" "GET THAT HORRID CONFECTION OUT OF MY SIGHT!" bellowed the Dark Lord, jumping into the arms of the nearest deatheater and cowering even as he shot a black glare in the candy's direction. Jack's good mood melted like a popsicle abandoned in the desert on the hottest day of July. "But..." his lip trembled and tears started streaming from his eyes. "But I worked so hard to bring it here all just for you and I almost lost it once and three times I nearly diiiiiiied!" He was sobbing before he even finished the sentence. "Please take it!" He bawled, shoving it at Ahriman. The demon hissed and recoiled. "No! NO! NOO! LEAVE ME ALONE YOU STUPID MUGGLE! NO! AGH!" He leaped from the deatheater's arms and pulled out his staff. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Frederick dived in front of Jack, but too late. The curse had already connected. The body hit the ground with a resounding thud. Everyone stared, deatheater, wizards, and muggles alike. "YEAH!" Devin cheered, sweeping Talia into his arms and dancing. "FINALLY!" "MY HEAD IS AT PEACE AT LAST!" Frederick rejoiced. "HAHA! YOU ALL SO TOTALLY OWE ME!" Jack whooped, tossing the cotton candy into the air in jubilation. Now you are thinking I made some typo, because Jack died, didn't he? No, he most certainly did not. Ahriman had destroyed himself, rather than be in the presence of the hated cotton candy for another second. Alicia could have kissed Jack, except that he'd so totally stolen her thunder. Stupid thief. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she huffed, "let's get out of here already." "What? No celebration for my remarkable achievement?" Jack whined. "No celebration for my skull's relief?" Frederick added. Devin looked distraught and squeaked, "No... cake?" "We can eat these lemon drops!" The deatheaters suggested helpfully. Alicia bit her lip, and fumed, and tried to look powerful and commanding, but nobody was yielding so she said, "FINE! I'll spread the good news to the world myself!" And she spun on her heel to do just that, but that sneaky thief was suddenly in front of her. And then they died. Of remorse. Just kidding. Actually Alicia grabbed Jack fiercely, and slapped him, and kissed him on his slimy thieving lips. "That's for stealing my thunder, fool!" "Ah!" Jack objected, insulted. "Then this," he said, grabbing a lemon drop and forcing it into her mouth, "is for stealing my word, and for putting your dirty muggle lips on my dirty muggle lips!" Alicia scrunched up her mouth because it was sour, and then, you will never guess what that horrible no good very bad little sneak did. It was so terrible that I don't even want to tell you. No, seriously, you will freak out and die. Of remorse. Oh, sorry. That happened earlier. What we talkin' about? Oh, yeah. Well, the awful, terrible truth of the story is this. Talia and Devin got married, and changed their last name to Weasley. Oops, wrong part. That comes later, and it isn't even part of this story. What really happened next was Frederick accidentally swallowed a fly, and the deatheaters had to use Sectum Sempra to perform an emergancy surgery to get it out of his system. But that's not the terrible part. Obviously, because Jack didn't do anything in it. So what did Jack do? Well. It's so terrible that I have to whisper it, so that Alicia will not hear. So come close. Ahem. (He kissed her.) THE GROSS AND TERRIFYING END, THEY LIVED HAPPILY GROSS EVER AFTER AND RODE INTO THE SUNSET OF AZKABAN ON A THESTRAL OF DEATH, WHILE DEMENTORS WERE CONFUSED BECAUSE THEY COULDN'T TAKE AWAY THE HAPPINESS OF TRUE LOVE'S GROSSOCITY! __________________________________________ Hahahahaha oops, sorry, I guess that was a little fluffy. But it was mostly funny, right? Right?
  22. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    Eeeeeyyyy as per usual I wrote a thing that goes near the beginning so that's on the first page and it's called "Me Too" and it's in the same post as "In The Dark," or you can also read it on fanfiction.net at this link if that's easier: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12094251/5/In-Pieces And because I always feel bad when I make people read things all out of order, here's the next piece too! It's another older one, and another silly one; the title is again more fitting than it has any right to be. _____________________________________________ Ridiculous They are just children, okay, and sometimes they should be allowed to act childish. So here is a ridiculous piece where they are. Also, I think when two people love each other, in any capacity, they both have to humble themselves over silly things, and apologize, and forgive once in a while. This can be hard, and that is exactly why love is so beautiful. And ridiculous. Also, I think only Dameon and maaaaybe Te'ijal would like reading, and some of the others depending on the book, but Rhen most definitely hates it. ________________________________________ Rhen was sitting on the couch beside Dameon while he read one of his boring books. Softly, the cat, was curled up in his lap, apparently content to sit and do nothing for ten, twenty, fifty-five million minutes. Rhen did not feel the same. She wanted to do something. Normally while Dameon was reading, she was dueling with Galahad in the practice yard, or wrestling her tiger Spots, or eating. But Galahad was busy running around the dining room table with Te'ijal. Spots was napping with No in the hallway. And Rhen couldn't eat, because the kitchen was empty, because Dameon was supposed to go shopping with her today, but he hadn't yet because apparently his book was too interesting to put down, and he had read "one more chapter" twice already, and she was going crazy. And that is why, after trying to be patient for a much shorter amount of time than she would like disclosed here, she reached out to poke him in the ribs. Now, in the past he had always stiffened when she touched him, sometimes even moved away. At first she had thought he just didn't like her in his space, but she had come to understand that he just wasn't really used to that kind of stuff. His way of expressing affection was all slowness and solemnity. So she tried to be sensitive and patient with him, and gradually he had seemed to grow comfortable with her and with the normal, ridiculous, impulsive way emotions were supposed to be expressed. But when she poked him, he yelled and jumped at least three feet, sending Softly darting out of the room. He shoved the book between himself and Rhen, looking at her with wide, shocked eyes like she'd somehow deeply and absolutely betrayed him. "What are you doing?" "Calm down, Dameon," she said, bewildered at such an undignified response from him. "I was only teasing." He blinked, and slowly settled back down into the seat, letting the book fall down into his lap while a pink blush crept up his ears. "You just startled me," he mumbled, unconvincingly. She narrowed her eyes at him and he shifted uncomfortably, quickly picking up his book again and staring hard at it. But she knew that he wasn't reading it anymore, because it was upside down. This was very strange behavior, considering how entranced he had previously seemed, and she was overwhelmed with curiosity. She could think of only one explanation for his reaction. And there was only one way to know for sure. She had to poke him again. She did it quickly, stealthily, so that he had no chance to move away. He yelped, leaping off the couch and spinning around to face her, holding the book in front of him like a shield. "That isn't funny, Rhen!" But clearly it was, because her eyes were wet from how hard she was laughing. "Dameon!" she cackled gleefully, jumping to her feet and stepping towards him. "You're ticklish!" "I am not!" he protested, but he was backing away from her and blushing furiously. "Yes, Dameon, you are!" she said, taking hold of the book and tossing it aside before he could object, tickling his stomach before he could move to defend himself. "No!" he squealed, doubling over and trying to push her away, to no avail. "Stop, stop!" he cried between wild peals of laughter. "Please! No!" She had never heard him laugh like this, with such wild, helpless abandon, and the sound made her laugh, and the way his eyes scrunched up made her smile. "Please st-t-o-p!" he was begging, but Rhen knew how to be merciless. "I'll— I'll— tickle— you!" he threatened, now reaching for her stomach. "Ha! I am not ticklish!" she crowed, and continued her ruthless onslaught. "N-o-o—“ he gasped, stumbling backwards into the kitchen in a futile attempt to escape her. "Dameon," she said, stopping her tickling abruptly, "watch out for—" Galahad yelled something unintelligible and dodged around them, and then Te'ijal jumped over them and flipped mid-air, landing lightly on her feet, and Dameon was looking sideways at her and taking a step away— "Get back here!" Rhen said, ducking under Serpent Spawn to chase Dameon out of the dining room and into the hall. She saw Elini staring after them, and she wondered briefly if she ought to behave as she was, and then she was past her and past wondering, and then, she caught him because Mad Marge was exiting the kitchen while he was trying to turn into it— "No— no— pl-e-e-a-se," he howled, sinking to the floor and curling up, trying to shield himself from her— but she just kneeled beside him and tickled his neck. "You'll have to try harder than that, Dameon," she chuckled while he squirmed until she could tickle his back and then his stomach again. "P-l-ea-se!" he laughed. "What do you— want? What— do you- w-a-n-t?" "Take me shopping!" she said, tickling the foot that was kicking at her. "Okay! Oka-a-y!" he gasped. "Stop! Stop!" But she didn't, even though Lars was walking by and rolling his eyes at them, muttering, "You two are so weird." Dameon laughed harder, helplessly trying to bat her hands away. "St-o-o-o-p! — Rhen! — I said o-o-kay!" "But I like tickling you," she said, grinning and tickling under his chin. "N-o-o! Stop! Stop!" he suddenly shoved himself off the floor and onto his feet, and she sat back dazed for a moment trying to comprehend what had just happened while he ran down the hall and into the library. "Dameon, come back!" she called, scrambling to her feet, but he was closing the door and she could already hear the lock clicking. She knocked. "Dameon, let me in!" "No!" "Okay, I'll stop tickling you!" she promised, almost meaning it. He didn't answer. "Dameon?" Again, silence. She frowned. "Dameon, what's the matter?" She could almost feel his sullenness through the door. "Come on, Dameon, don't be silly. I was only teasing." He was still quiet and she considered getting Pirate John to pick-lock the door. But then she remembered that their pick lock didn't work on doors. Anyway, Dameon was probably reading, and he wouldn't like having her burst in on him. Well, fine, then she would give him something to read. "Lars!" she called, turning back towards the dining room where she could hear the sorcerer arguing with Galahad over the existence of magic. "Can I borrow some paper and a quill?" "What?" Lars said, in a tone that indicated more annoyance than curiosity. Rhen poked her head in the dining room and said in her most stubborn voice, "I want to write a note." Lars shrugged. "Paper is in the top drawer of my writing desk and the quill is on top." "Great, thank you!" Rhen said, turning to run back down the hall. She heard Lars yell "Don't spill any ink!" after her, and then she was getting the stuff (and she did not even almost spill the ink, thank you!) Dear Dameon, she wrote. Please put down your book and read this note. I want to go shopping so I can eat. I am very hungry. She frowned. That wasn’t quite true. Actually I am just bored, she corrected, but I still want to shop with you. I promise not to tickle you anymore. Please do not be mad. I was only teasing. She signed her name, and slipped the note under the library door. She heard a heavy sigh, and the rustle of the paper being picked up. Then it was quiet, long enough for Rhen to wonder if she'd written something insensitive. And then there were footsteps moving away from the door, and more rustling, and the footsteps came back. But the door didn't open; instead the paper poked out from underneath it. "What?" Rhen said, surprised. She took the paper and was about to shove it under the door again, but she noticed that there was more writing on it than before. Dear Rhen, it said, in neat, looped letters. I did not think it was funny. I do not like being tickled. I am not mad but I do not want to talk to you right now. And then he had signed his name. Rhen frowned, and wrote quickly, But I want to talk to you, then shoved the note under the door again. She heard Dameon mumble something in his low, serious voice, and the note came back. Do not tickle me. She almost laughed, because he was being silly. But... when she got upset over silly things, he always soothed her and helped her. So she swallowed hard to get her pride down her throat, and wrote, Okay, I'm sorry. And she sent the note under the door again. She waited forever for it to come back. He probably thought she was ridiculous. Well, she was a little ridiculous. But she didn't like for him to think so— The door opened and he was looking down at her with his stupid dark eyes that made her bones turn into jelly. "I'm— I— " he looked at the ground. "I overreacted. I'm sorry." She nodded, and tried to reach for his hand but she was too nervous. "That's okay," she said. "Er— do you forgive me?" He looked at her again and smiled. "Of course." Then he pulled her into a hug, so she knew everything was all right again. She pressed her face into his robes, carefully. "Do you want to go shopping now?" he mumbled into her hair. And his breath on her ear... tickled.
  23. Mu11berry

    Silly Aveyond Shorts

    What is this? Another silly story? After all this time? It's a miracle. Okay I will be serious now (sort of), I wrote this Te'ijalahad fluff for @Rodania's birthday which is already past but I just found about it so I'm just now finishing and I am sorry for my lateness, please forgive me T.T _________________________________________ Burning To Rodania, my partner in angst and in fluff, through sickness and health, poverty and wealth (but mostly poverty cuz we're always broke. Here's to when we can finally make that movie though!), till undeath do us part (or busy lives and poor internet connection, whichever may be first). Thank you for loving fluff as much as me and thanks for all the rants. And speaking of which, please enjoy this fluffy cracky nonsense. Happy belated birthday! Tiny headcanon explanation, I lined up the av1 sprites once and Te'ijal was actually one of the shortest, and that leads to too many cute things to ignore so I headcanon her as short. Galahad, of course, was tall and that leads to even more cute things. Please allow me to demonstrate. Exhibit A, this fic: Becoming a human was absolutely, positively, most undeniably the most unamusing thing that had ever happened to Te'ijal in all of her eight hundred and thirty-one years of existence. This was including the time Gyendal replaced all of her arrowheads with marshmallows, and the time Beatrice tried to steal her ghost, and even that one time Galahad stole her sunscreen and managed to get all the way to Veldt before she could overtake him— Actually, truth be told she had laughed at all of those things, especially the one involving her darling crumpet. She had a nice, healthy, properly morbid sense of humor. She could take a joke. But this— This was going too far. She was going to have words with the Goddess about it, she'd swear it on her very own grave. Oh, how she missed her grave! But for now she was stuck in Sedona, polishing Galahad's boots and cooking his dinner and being generally decidedly miserably mortal. She hated human food, by the way. And at any rate, she was fairly certain what she cooked didn't even qualify as food at all. Stoves, spatulas, chicken eggs…. These were all mysterious to her. But it made Galahad happy when she tried to cook. The man had starved himself for centuries, that was the only reason. Any sane vampire, or person, or any creature under the sun or moon, would know better than to taste the dishes she served up. But she had known for a long time that Galahad was far from sane. He was crazier than Mad Marge, from all those centuries before. There were even times Te'ijal thought he might be crazier than herself. And oh, she loved him for it. She did. It was ridiculous, sappy human nonsense to be sure, but she had always had a soft spot for her food. Especially him. Maybe some part of her had always been human, after all. It made her sick to think about. And she had been thinking about it excessively lately, which had put her in an excessively foul mood, and that mood had, of course, fallen on Galahad's shoulders to deal with. He had such succulent shoulders. But anyway, she felt bad for what she had put him through in the past weeks, and she hated her stupid saccharine human self for it but that's the way she was now. And so, as a way to make it up to him which might not be too horribly obvious and undignified, she had decided… to try… to make cookies. Which in the first place involved far too much egg cracking for her liking. Eggs were disgusting. They were hard on the outside and squishy on the inside. That was the exact opposite of how food should be. She would be having words with the Goddess about this when it was over. In the second place, it involved too much flour. What even was flour? Why was it white and poofy and prone to get everywhere? How did it manage to stick so thoroughly to her elbows and her nose and her bright red perfect hair and why was it so dry and tasteless? She hated flour, she hated whatever foolish human had invented it, and she hated that it apparently went in cookies. She hated it so much, she decided to forego it entirely. It couldn't make that much difference. What she did like about this whole cookie thing was the sugar that was called for. Sugar, mixed with the right amount of salt and water, was almost like blood. In fact, she would add the appropriate amount of those last two things now! Surely Galahad would appreciate that, after so many centuries of depriving himself. Finally it came time to "spoon the cookie dough onto the baking sheet." Those were the directions in her cookbook. Confound humans and their ridiculous instructions! She had a baking sheet, Galahad had taught her what it was last week. And she knew what a spoon was: it was, in fact a noun, referring to a small silver utensil that was apparently useful in the consumption of soup. It was not a verb. And it also was not an object Te'ijal had any particular fondness for. Silver may not burn her anymore, but it used to and she didn't trust it, not in the slightest. She hated spoons, and she had no idea what it meant to "spoon" something onto a baking sheet. Nevertheless, she had determined to do this, and she would not be prevented. She touched the spoon. She hissed. It didn't burn. She wrapped her fingers around it. It still didn't burn, but it was very cold and she didn't appreciate that either. She picked it up. It glinted evilly. Very well, it was a contest then. She may not be a vampire anymore, but surely she could out-evil an eating utensil. She stuck it in the cookie dough. Nothing happened. She sighed. Apparently she would have to do all the work herself. How droll. She managed to stick some of the cookie dough to the spoon, and slopped it onto the baking sheet. This cookie dough was a gooey liquidy consistency that was incredibly difficult to work with. Humans really ought to devise some way to fix that. Finally she managed to slop all the cookie dough onto the baking sheet. It looked like a miniature swamp. Was this really appetizing to people? How amusing. The next instruction was to place the baking sheet in a pre-heated oven and bake for twelve minutes. But had Te'ijal pre-heated the oven? Of course not, you fool. So she started a fire under her stove, and waited for the thermometer to read the required temperature, and entertained herself with throwing eggs through her window at unsuspecting passers-by. It was quite diverting, and a much better use of eggs than in food. At last the oven was pre-heated, and she carefully put the cookies in— apparently ovens and humans shared the same relationship as silver and vampires. It would have been funny if she hadn't learned the hot way. The burns were not pleasant. And then came the waiting. As a vampire, Te'ijal had been fabulously patient. She once waited for three entire decades for Gyendal to come out of his library, and all so she could pay him back for his lovely marshmallow arrowheads (he had not appreciated the Boots of Sluggishness nearly as much as she had). But that was when she had eternity. Now she had a measly half a century, perhaps less. Thinking about it made her stomach churn. She would have to distract herself. There was a book on the lounge table which Galahad had been reading— Rhen Pendragon: A History. He had been searching through it for references to himself, and had apparently found it to be quite inaccurate. Which meant, of course, that Te'ijal would find it unbearably amusing. She picked it up. ____________________________________________________ It was good to be back in Sedona. It was wonderful to smell the cheese, and the ocean air and the fish and all the familiar musty glorious smells of the city, still nearly the same after all these centuries. It was more wonderful still to smell those things and not smell the blood, not be keenly aware of every beating heart around him— He loved it. It was a blessing from the Goddess, after so many centuries of being cursed. He could see his face clearly reflected in his carefully shined sword now. He could feel the biting cold of the approaching evening and he could become properly weary after a good old-fashioned hard day's work as a knight in the court of His Majesty the King. Best of all, he could go home to his darling, angry little wife and care for her as a husband was meant to. Galahad smiled to himself. Te'ijal had not been as eager to accept the blessing of humanity as he had. She had been decidedly against it, actually. She had screamed and wailed and fought against it with every ounce of her soul, determined never to be anything but what she had been. She'd even tried to sleep on the floor— she still tried to, no matter how many times he moved her gently to the bed. She was as stubborn as him, and strangely, after all these centuries, he was beginning to believe he loved her for it. He thought all these things as he approached the house they had made home, as he mounted the steps, one by one, as he pushed open the door— He thought all these things, and he forgot them and everything else he had ever known or believed in his life as he took in the sight before him. The kitchen was on fire. The kitchen… was on fire! "Wife!" he spluttered, mostly because it was the only word he could recall for one panicked moment. "Wife, what— what is happening in here?!" "Hmm?" Te'ijal mumbled, lowering the book she had been reading. "What is the matter, Hus— Husband, there is fire in the kitchen!" Galahad knew that, and very little else. Water, he would need water— suddenly, horribly, he wished for his vampiric speed back, as he ran to the kitchen and tried to pump water into the mixing bowl Te'ijal had apparently used to make some sort of slime earlier. Te'ijal was by his side so quickly he wondered if she had gotten her vampiric speed back— she was taking the bowl, and throwing it at the fire— the whole thing, not just the water— and the fire hissed and sputtered and continued burning down the house— confound it all, they would need something else to put the water in— "It must have been the silver spoon!" Te'ijal was babbling, and Galahad was panicking— "Where do you keep the bowls?" "Husband! How can you be thinking of food at a time like this? After all that time I tried to get you to feed—" "To put the water in, wife, where are the bowls?!" "On top of the cupboard!" she answered, and scrambled to reach one— She was on the tips of her toes, her arms stretched high above her— his darling, angry little wife was too short and the fire was going to consume them— He swept her up in his arms, and lifted her up towards the bowls— she grabbed one, and nearly jumped out of his arms and ran to the sink— And she was filling it up and dumping it out and filling it up again, and the fire crackled and— And it was out, somehow, thank goodness, bless all the stars, the kitchen was safe, he was safe, and his darling angry little wife was just fine— "Galahad— Galahad, we nearly burned to death! Just as though we were vampires out in the sun! Isn't it marvelous?" Galahad swallowed. She was dancing around him, her violet eyes sparkling and her bright red hair bouncing, perfectly and entirely overjoyed at the idea of almost dying— she was crazy, and stubborn, and— "Wife, were you trying to burn us all to the ground?" "Oh, no, don't be ridiculous, Crumpet! I was just trying to make cookies. I suppose they are likely done now," she said, now pulling an oven mitt over her hands and reaching into the oven to pull out— It had been a baking sheet, once, Galahad guessed. Now it was covered in something charred and smoking and he was certain neither he nor Te'ijal nor any other force in the entirety of Aia would ever be able to make it clean again. Te'ijal cackled. "They're perfect! Look at them, my succulent darling, they are cooked entirely through!" "Wife, they look—" Galahad sighed. "They look— delicious, darling," he said, and then he bent down and kissed her forehead, where that deranged, dear brain of hers lived. And the thing that burned the most that day was his face as she patted his cheek and said, somewhat reluctantly, "Thank you for putting up with me, Crumpet. I hate being human but— I'm glad that, if I had to go through this, I'm going through it with you."
  24. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @Ishti Thank! It's called Krita, and it's free which is awesome. I've heard making text edit sucks on it but seeing as I don't use text it's great for me, I haven't had any problems with it so far! _____________________________________________________________________ Yes I am still working on the 31 day Aveyond challenge, after all this time (almost a year now? Sheesh), and the next day is a character I wish the game makers had elaborated more on. Mine is the unnamed Druid of Light whom Talia apparently had a son with and then murdered. I just... need to know... how this happened, please somebody tell me. What is his name, and how long had he been the sun guardian, and was he around the first time Ahriman was in power? And how did he and Talia meet and fall in love, or were they even in love, and how did they raise Dameon, and was Mister Maurva even a good husband and was he even a good father or was he always wicked, and if he wasn't always wicked how did he become bad enough that Talia felt like she had to kill him to save the world, what did he even do, and when, AND ALSO JUST... EVERYTHING PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW!! I mean I have some theories but I wish with all my soul there was more content or just some way to confirm or disprove things T.T On another note, I didn't know what to do with his hair and I ended up making it kinda long-ish, which I guess I got from Cherrywine's fic called Changeling) Also, do you like how I hid his face completely behind Talia's so I wouldn't have to really decide what he looks like? Yep. I'm a dirty dirty cheater and not sorry at all ;p Anyway baby Dameon was totally worth all the trouble this pic gave me look at his tiny hands and that lil smile And here is my rhenxdameon for the week and a half because I kept forgetting to post here heh The sword singer Rhen Pendragon and the sun priest Dameon Maurva spending a peaceful afternoon together~ He's braiding her hair and she's reading to him, and they are Stinkin cute Also! My sister is writing me a story to go with this and I'll definitely share the link when it's done in like 50 years! I'm really excited~~~
  25. Mu11berry

    Picturis Scribarum

    @Scrivener of the Gods Apologies accepted Thanks for understanding, and thank you too for the pic! It's lovely
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