The vast blackness of space was soothing in its own way. The sight of stars whipping by never grew old, and the company of people who scoffed at his origins were at least amusing.
“One of the Chosen Few?” The pilot asked, his voice somewhat distant as he focused on the no doubt intensive task of flying an interstellar spacecraft. To that Yi just smiled as he tended to his armour, “Are you hearing this?” The captain looked over his shoulder towards another with his head in projected maps of the sector, “Did you hear it?”
“I did.” As if the chain of looks had to end somewhere, the navigator and his smirk turned towards the swordsman, “You know saying that to the wrong people will get you killed, right? Why even pretend?”
“You do not believe me?” Yi cocked his head to a slight one side, almost comically so, “Why?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I know my basic history.” With a casual air the navigator kicked back in his chair, the metal fixtures carrying him out enough so that he could easily slip out of the thing and saunter over to the mystic space farer. Yi, of course, sat on the hull of the ship, even if ample chair space had been provided for him, “And you’re neck deep in a sector controlled by the Order
don’t you know? It seems a bit absurd to me that you’d be so open about it, whether its the truth or a lie.”
To that Yi only offered a polite smile, the thing only seeming to annoy the crew member behind his navigator’s visor. His focus soon fell away from the Chosen Master’s politeness and downwards to the strange contraption resting in Yi’s lap. It was a simple cylindrical thing adorned with no fixtures that would imply it could be turned on and off. It just seemed like the hilt of a blade, just big enough to be held in two hands.
“What I’m guessing you are,” The Navigator went on, so brazenly snatching the device away from Yi, “is just some guy who happened to run across a synthesised blade, and you thought it was cool enough that you started dressing in robes, and old age armour, and calling yourself Chosen.”
“Perhaps.” Yi replied, shaking his head as if to say it was neither here nor there. His lenses, however, ticked with a certain urgency. He made no attempt to retrieve his blade, but we watched carefully as the fool looked down its barrel.
“And you know what? This probably doesn’t even work.” Wisely the non believer did in fact point the weapon away before he continually shook the thing as he ran his fingers along its surface, but the position of the weapon seemed to make little difference. It lay dormant all the same, and the man offered the thing back to the Chosen, “A little bit of advice: Don’t go around saying you’re Chosen.”
“You have the safety on.” Yi simply retorted with a chuckle, taking the thing in hand and holding it at an arm’s length perpendicular to himself. In truth there was no safety or switch that had to be turned off. It was as easy as channelling his inner power through his arm and into the hilt, and from there the blade sprung to life. A great whoosh took the confines of the ship, and the green of plasma lit up the surroundings. The navigator, understandably, jumped back at the activation of the thing, but before he could even get out a word the captain chimed in once again,
“Hey! Cut it out back there with the lights. I’m trying to concentrate. Get your ass back over here.”
“Uh…” Yi smiled on as the witness to his blade darted between himself and his job. To aid in his decision the Chosen retracted his blade, and the other gave the Master one last squint before he responded proper, “Yeah. I got you…”
“Jeez, I sometimes wonder why I even have you here at all.” As if it were reflex, the captain flicked all manner of switches and pushed his buttons. His seconding command did the same, sizing and resizing maps of varying degrees with but the motions of his hands in the hologram, “Are we decided on whether or not Seven Eyes is Chosen?”
“I don’t know…”The man mumbled his words, and Yi could only laugh on, “Anyone can have one of those syth-blades. Ionian makes aren’t that hard to come by…”
“And going to
the Immortal Bastion? Hey, it’s not my place to question. I’m already paid. If you have a death wish my Ionian friend, then that’s up to you.
You’ll have the Forsaken tailing you in no time…”
At being reminded of his destination, the grin upon the Chosen’s face became somewhat pained. Though it was all in good fun every time someone laughed at his wiles, he eventually had to face the dark reality of the galaxy he resided in.
“I have… already felt the Hammer of the Forsaken upon my chin, whether you believe me or no.” He said as if it were a passing comment, “But if I am to fight the darkness wherever it holds sway, then I must go to these places with my light… That is what someone who is Chosen would stay, yes?”
“Sounds about right.” It was the pilot’s turn to laugh, “You’re well learned in folklore… though a little bit stupid in everything else.”
“Perhaps.” Yi said once again, and no one seemed to care about his vagueness as it covered for an encroaching melancholy.
“We’ve still got an estimated travel time of sixty pulses or so to the Noxus system.” The navigator concluded before he made himself busy with his work, “You’d best get yourself comfortable. It might be the only comfort you get with an attitude like yours.”
The last of the Chosen did not continue to play his games, his mind in a sadder place. Instead he went back to the stars outside the windows of the vessel, trying his best to take delight in the simple wonders of space travel, or the pretty vistas the his lenses could only catch for half a second. It was hard to concentrate, but he tried his best. For perhaps they were right. Perhaps this would be his last comfort.
“What I do, I do for the Few.” He whispered to himself and the lights that flashed by, “I was Chosen for this…”
So, @maverikloki and I were inspired by a certain drunken commenter on last night’s chapter, to create a list of DA characters’ (and the occasional Rhapsody original) interactions with AO3. Companions appear in the game where you can first take them as a companion, other characters appear in the game in which they played the largest role. I’mma put this behind a cut because it is nightmarishly long, but we hope this inspires some crackfic.
Wuju is an ancient martial art that the village of Hei Fai had been practicing in seclusion for thousands of years. There are many techniques, skill and secrets that come along with the art, in the all people practiced the art. It was not only an art of self defense it was a state it mind and a life style that dictated the rules in which all practitioners were to live their lives.
Qi or Ki was a large part of the Wuju practitioners life style. Qi being the energy that unites all manifestations in the universe and flows from the earth and through every living creature. With enough discipline, meditation and enlightenment humans and other beings could learn to manipulate this energy. The people of Hei Fai sought to master it and most came very close, as the art of Wuju and its practitioners became known for the power they demonstrated over Qi. They used it in many ways such as giving a boost of strength or speed to a fighter, infusing it into their weapons to over come obstacles and for healing major wounds.
However, one of the Wuju practitioner’s biggest secrets and accomplishments that proved their prowess of Qi manipulation was longevity. The people of Hei Fai were thousands of years old, they were not immortal but they have over the years become so skilled in the use of Qi and meditation that they slowed down the aging process. Their bodies remained young and strong for hundreds of years, due to this long life span and the skill in which it takes to master Wuju most didn’t master the martial art until nearly 2,000 years of age.
The art was more than a fighting form it had several tenets to which practitioners would shape their lives. Like chivalry to a knight and bushido to a samurai it was a mixture of lessons on how to treat others both in and out of combat.
There were seven major tenets.
The first was to be observant. A master needed to be aware of everything going on around them both in and out of combat. They believed in learning a lot from others, usually while their ‘teachers’ were unaware. They observed the mistakes of others so they could avoid the same mistakes themselves. Using observation they often studied others combat techniques and added them to their own deadly art which evolved over the millennia the art had been around. They became skilled in predicting an opponent’s movements and it became hard to use a skill against them twice as it was rumored masters were so observant they could learn how to preform and defeat a new technique after a mere singling witnessing.
The second was to mind ones pride. The people of Hei Fai were naturally a very humble, generous and grateful people. They didn’t tolerate to showing too much pride, being proud of your accomplishments was natural but there was a fine line between being proud and being arrogant. They saw pride as a weakness in both spirit and combat, someone who needed to boast had a fragile spirit and lacked self-confidence and someone who was arrogant in battle would simply find their death.
The third was self control, this meant in both emotions as well as indulgences. The people of Hei Fai were extremely traditional; being separated from most of Ionia they kept more ancient lines of thinking, a large one being to live a simplistic life style. The people didn’t believe in seeking out pleasures for oneself but rather one should think about what they could do for the village as a whole. They taught themselves to never indulge, this meant in anything one found pleasurable whether that be in food, hobbies or sex. They actively denied themselves most pleasures, never over eating, partaking in much sweets or alcohol. They didn’t allow much relaxation time as anytime spent on yourself could be better spent helping the village. This was couples with not liking technology and making attempts to rely on anything electronic as scares as possible. Men and women both were taught to deny themselves sex for as long as possible unless they were actively seeking creation. They trained to control their emotions as much as their bodies, emotion was to never cloud judgment as they were seen as a weak argument and becoming emotional and battle would lead to a swift defeat.
The fourth was to never doubt. This one specifically for combat was taught as a motivator, while it is logical to doubt others ideas and opinions they wanted their warriors to be confident they could win any fight. This was a mantra they would repeat whenever they would go to battle and begin to question victory.
The fifth was to never wait. This was specifically for what needed to be done in life, the people never believed in waiting for what you want rather they believed in hard work and perseverance. Nothing ever happened on its owns therefore if there was something someone wanted they believed in doing whatever it took to accomplish it. They found weakness in those that didn’t actively pursue their goals.
Sixth is form before strength. This primarily referring to their combat was another motivation, it was stated to remind themselves of their training and that superior training could quash that of superior strength. People who train in Wuju were notoriously hard to intimidate regardless of the odds because they were trained to believe their skills would out play any opponent.
The seventh is to never stop learning. They actively encouraged others to learn new information that they could share with the village, this involved ways to make their lives better such as farming techniques or combat that they could implement.
//Okay that’s the basics *wipes brow* much more to be added later as well as ideas that come as my character grows. My next major post about Wuju will be the combat oriented stuff.
Hello! I didn’t upload anything recently… but I’m working on a story. However the picture has nothing to do with the first ( unfinished ) chapter that I want to share with you. It takes place in an alternative universe where Noxus has
conquered Ionia and Yi is serving as a soldier on Noxus’s side. ( but not by choice )
I’m sorry for the incorrect English. I’m not a native speaker. I translated this from Hungarian by myself. I hope you can at least understand it.
English version:
The sky turned into darkness and the knocking of the raindrops
were clearly hearable on the cobblestone roads. The strolling boy on the other
side of the street pulled the dark blueish purple hood over his face before he
hastily moved on. He wore a well-worn, shabby cloth which resembles an outgrown
coat. The helplessly falling raindrops were trickling on his thin, white wrists.
He saw him everyday. The boy always glided among the people
like a shadow. As if he himself were a shadow. Yi slightly admired this talent
of him. But this boy was homeless. And this was the barrier which he couldn’t
handle. Which prevented him to accost the boy. However on this rainy day he
still found himself accosted him. The young boy looked at him with his widened,
russet eyes as if he didn’t understand what would this man want from him. The
colour of his pale skin highlighted the black and brown spots that covered his
face. The words stuck in Yi’s throat. This boy was full of sadness. But he
finally asked:
„What’s your name?”
„I’m Talon.” Heard the name which stuck in his head forever.
The boy was distrustful. Even when the man handed him a box
full of various foods. Talon wrenched the box from the man’s grasp and started to eat with his bare hands. Yi’s
smile widened then let out a pitiful but honest laugh. He was sure this boy
starved a lot. And how young… His nervousness became noticable when their eyes
met. It wasn’t hard to tell that he is not one of them. But both of them were
silent about this.
„Tell me, where do you live?”
„I live here. The street is my home. But can you see that
mattress ont he alley? I sleep there recently.” He pointed his dirty fingers to
a torn, old mattress. His speaking was flown, and child like.
Hungarian version:
Az égbolt sötétségbe borult, s az esőcseppek kopogása hallatszódott a macskaköves utakon. Az út túloldalán sétáló fiú kezét kitárva állapította ezt meg, majd fejébe húzta a sötétkék és lila határán egyensúlyozó kapucniját, mielőtt sietősen tovább állt volna. Ruhája egy elnyűtt, kopottasra hordott, kinőtt kabátra emlékeztette. Vékony, fehér csuklóin végigperegtek a tetőről tehetetlenségben zuhanó esőcseppek. Mindennap látta őt, árnyként suhant az emberek között, szinte láthatatlanul járt kelt, mintha ő maga is csupán egy árnyék volna. Yi némileg csodálta ezt a tehetségét.. Ez a fiú nincstelen volt. Képtelen volt venni azt akadályt, mely kettejük között húzódott. Ez volt az az akadály, amely lehetetlenné tette, hogy megszólítsa. Azonban egy esős napon, mégis azon kapta magát, hogy megszólította. A fiúcska ránézett, nagyra meresztett, sárgásbarna szemeivel, mintha nem értené, mi dolga akadhat egy magafajtával. Sápadt arca szinte kiemelte a barna, s fekete foltokat amelyek beterítették arcát. Yi torkán akadt a szó, mikor fellelte a belőle sugárzó, különös szomorúságot. Végül tüzetes egyszerűséggel felelt:
‘Mi a neved?’
‘Talon vagyok’ így hangzott a különös név, amely örökre az elméjébe ékelődött.
A fiú gyanakvó volt, még abban a momentumban is mikor átnyújtott egy dobozt, tele különféle ételekkel. Talon szinte kiszakította a kezéből, az ételeket pedig puszta kézzel tömte magába. Yi mosolya kiszélesedett, majd kissé sajnálkozva de őszintén felnevetett. Ha ösztönei nem hazudtak, ez a fiú sokat éhezhetett. Pedig mennyire fiatal. Nyugtalansága kisugárzóvá vált mikor tekintetük egy adodó véletlen alkalmával összeért. Nem volt nehéz még csak megsejteni sem, hogy nem közülük való. Azonban mindkettejük hallgatott erről.
‘Mondd, hol laksz?’
‘Én, itt lakom. Az utca az én otthonom. De látod azt matracot a sikátorok között? Most éppen ott szoktam aludni’ koszos ujjait egy szakadt, megtépázott matracra irányította. Beszédstílusa egy gyermekéhez volt hasonló.
Summary:
Many things cross the galazy yet it was the first time they found this
kind of being. Running among the stars to keep harmony in the universe.
What the captain didn’t expect what to find so much interest for this
peculiar person.
So, for the meredith post, are you forgetting that the previous viscount was extorting money from the Orlesian navy and lynched the knight-commander who preceded meredith?
I dunno. Perhaps I am! Are you forgetting that history is written by the victors, and that the Chantry and Orlais have been collectively winning at Thedas for about 900 years now? Because I’m not!
One thing I really love about Dragon Age is the worldbuilding. It keeps me coming back even when I’m questioning the writers’ morals and politics. I know it’s not perfect, and there are mistakes and plot holes, but on the whole the Codex entries are fantastic. In Inquisition, finding a Codex entry will make me happier than completing a quest.
They feel real. You get these wonderful texts from Chantry officials and nobles and other interested parties explaining that it’s perfectly reasonable to kidnap mages and subject them to lifelong imprisonment, and that the elves should be grateful for the existence of alienages, and that the Orlesian empire has been doing its holy duty in invading and slaughtering anyone who doesn’t agree exactly with its official religion.
In short, like a not insignificant amount of real history written by winners, by the rich and the powerful and the people with a vested interest in convincing posterity that their actions were completely and utterly justified and that their enemies deserved their miserable fates, the official history is generally full of shit.
That the Chantry lies is just a fact. It lies to everyone, including its own people. To pick a not-insignificant plot point from Inquisition, it comes as a complete surprise to Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker and Right Hand of the Divine, that the Seekers have known how to cure Tranquility for centuries, and that she herself was subjected to the procedure. They will cheerfully rewrite history, if it suits them. They will murder witnesses. They will cover up atrocities. Show me a Chantry source and I’ll show you a text I’m going to take with a whole bucket of salt.
Reading a Chantry source and saying you know about Kirkwall is like saying you read Shakespeare’s Richard III and now know all about the Wars of the Roses.
Dragon Age 2 is particularly good about this. I know it suffers from being rushed, and from some uninspired level design, but I think it remains Bioware’s most ambitious game. It is the story of the powerless trying to wrest control of the narrative from the powerful. You see it in gameplay: a Hawke who tries to expose the Chantry’s attacks on the Qunari or its brutal treatment of the mages will get absolutely nowhere. Anders ends the game with a powerful demonstration of the fact that the Chantry couldn’t give a fuck about justice: they will murder the mages as retribution for the destruction of the Chantry because that’s what they’ve always been planning to do, and the fact that he’s sitting there quietly, waiting to be arrested, means nothing to them.
It’s also the framing narrative. It’s the point of the whole thing. The Chantry has views on Hawke, and on what happened in Kirkwall. Varric has a different story. It’s one the Chantry isn’t going to like much at all. It doesn’t mean that every word he says is necessarily true either (at bare minimum he’s lying about his knowledge of Hawke’s whereabouts, and I’m inclined to think there are parts of the story that make more sense if Varric is lying), but the fact remains that his is the kind of voice the Chantry would normally suppress. Which is part of the reason why Cassandra is interrogating him in a darkened room far from the public eye.
So, with all that, we come to Perrin Threnhold.
First things first: have you forgotten that Orlais occupied Kirkwall until 8:05 Blessed? They arrived to liberate the city from the Qunari, and then thought they might as well own the place. They do that. Nor did they courteously go home after a while: the Marchers rose up and kicked them out. Orlais has an empire. It grabs territory whenever it can. Sometimes the locals manage to win their freedom, but the Orlesians are always looking to take the land back.
Perrin Threnhold, we are told:
Used the ancient chains extending from “the Twins” standing at Kirkwall’s harbor—unused since the New Exalted Marches—to block sea traffic and charge exorbitant fees from Orlesian ships.
Now, I don’t know about you, but if I were the ruler of a prosperous but underdefended port city that was always likely to be a prize for the Orlesians, I’d want to be able to control who could sail a fleet of ships through my territory. I might also want some damn reparations from the Orlesian empire, although it’s worth remembering that the word ‘exorbitant’ comes from a Chantry source.
Here’s the thing: there’s no right way to handle Orlais. There’s nothing you can do that can guarantee they won’t be ruling you tomorrow. Nevarra let them in and got occupied. The Dales tried to keep them out and got conquered. There’s no perfect strategy in dealing with an empire, which, unless it loses enough territory in one go to significantly weaken it, is always going to have the resources to have another stab at you tomorrow. There’s only the strategy that works today. If you’re Maric Theirin, then your fight with Orlais is going to go really well. If you’re Perrin Threnhold, yours is going to go really badly. Consequently, we get stories about Maric the hero and Perrin the monster.
Shit, look at poor Bran, beating off invaders with a stick. The fight goes on.
You say ‘extorting money from the Orlesian navy’ like I should be scandalised! Appalled! Oh the poor Orlesian navy, however will they sail around invading and exploiting people when there are giant chains in their way!
In case you hadn’t guessed, I’m not appalled. :)
What I can’t be sure of, because the sources don’t provide enough detail, is whether this was, at the time, a sound strategy that went badly wrong, or a dreamer’s plan that was always doomed to fail.
I do know that the Dragon Age was considered to be a time of political turmoil, and Orlais started the century by getting its arse kicked in Ferelden. Quite possibly Perrin saw an opportunity in both the strife and Orlais’s losses. He may well have been right; despite threats, Orlais didn’t invade, and if Orlais isn’t throwing its weight around it’s generally because it can’t. What Perrin didn’t count on was the perfidy of the Templar Order, and that was a fatal error.
Lynched the knight-commander, you say? Well, sure, let’s start there. I mean, come on: if Knight-Commander Guylian didn’t want to be treated as an enemy soldier, maybe he shouldn’t have acted as an agent of a foreign power and used the military might of his Order to coerce the damn Viscount. Just a thought.
But hang on a minute, because I’m inclined to think it’s worse than that:
Knight-Commander Guylian’s only written comment was in a letter to Divine Beatrix III: “It is not our place to interfere in political affairs. We are here to safeguard the city against magic, not against itself.” The divine, as a friend to the emperor, clearly had other ideas.
Guylian is with me, on this one: he thinks this is a terrible idea. Let’s get the rest of the story, shall we:
Under Pressure from Divine Beatrix III, Guylian commanded the Templars to force Viscount Perrin Threnhold to reopen the Waking Sea to allow Orlesian ships to pass through. The viscount retaliated by hiring mercenaries to storm the Gallows. Guylian was captured and publicly hanged. An enraged Meredith and a group of her best marched on the viscount’s estate, determined to exact terrible justice. The captain of the city guard, quailing before the Templars, protested that he knew nothing of the plot. To prove his innocence, the captain asserted that the viscount had acted unlawfully and had him arrested. Threnhold’s lands and titles were stripped from him, and he was thrown into his own dungeon.
– Word of Thedas II
Does … any of that … make any sense to you at all, Anonymous person? Because it sets off so many alarm bells in my head it’s like being bloody Quasimodo.
The Templars have the military might to take on the Viscount of Kirkwall. They are ‘the largest armed force in Kirkwall’. They have the blessing of the Divine to act, and the backing of the Orlesian empire. However, they lack two important things:
a) a willing commanding officer
b) a reasonable pretext for overthrowing the Viscount that doesn’t actually scream ‘Look at us! We’re a thinly disguised branch of the Orlesian military!’
And yet somehow, Perrin Threnhold does not, say, launch a full scale attack on the Templars … enlist the aid of the (let’s face it: probably entirely willing) mages … seize the lyrium supply … burn down the Gallows … call in assistance from his allies … or do anything that makes sense.
No. He … has mercenaries break into the Gallows, kidnap the knight-commander and publicly hang him … an act which simultaneously removes the man who had enough integrity to want to stay out of political disputes and gives the Templars reason to attack him that nobody could criticise.
Then, on top of that, the captain of Kirkwall’s largest secular fighting force apparently has no idea that any of this is going on, is not even slightly prepared for battle and freaks the fuck out when the Templars show up. There is neither a militia nor mercenaries to guard the Viscount’s Keep or protect him after he’s murdered the knight-commander.
I mean … seriously?
And, oh, wait, what’s this?
Beside the greying knight-commander, Meredith cut an imposing figure: stern, icy and uncompromising. When Guylian gave a command, it was Meredith who enforced it. Her drive and her devotion to her duty made her a bit of a legend among her fellow Templars, and privately, many thought she possessed a hundred times the old knight-commander’s charisma. Many said that it was Meredith who was really the leader of the Templars, despite her junior rank.
– World of Thedas II
Here we have a young and ambitious knight-captain, who apparently has the backing from her troops to attempt a coup and who, importantly, is absolutely willing to fight the viscount.
So … I have to ask. How sure are you that Perrin Threnhold lynched anybody? How likely do you think it is that these ‘mercenaries’ even existed? Don’t you wonder why no one ever says who they were, or what happened to them? What do you think the chances are that the first the viscount heard of his ‘crime’ was when a Templar army arrived on his doorstep?
To follow up, the official history reads:
The templars were hailed as heroes, and even though they wished to remain out of Kirkwall’s affairs, it was now forced upon them. Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city’s rule ever since.
The new knight-commander, Meredith, appointed Marlowe to the seat, much to his surprise. Just before he was crowned, he met in private with the knight-commander at the Gallows. Marlowe was escorted, surrounded by grim Templars, to Meredith’s well-appointed office, and there, she explained her reasons for the choice. Kirkwall was filled with entitled degenerates. Marlowe was different. His family had always been humble. They never grasped for power or gold, never felt that it was owed them. “With my help, you will turn this city around,” she said. We will be allies.
Meredith’s message was clear: Remember who holds the power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive home her point, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words “His fate need not be yours.”
– World of Thedas II
Yep. Those Templars. So eager to retire from politics. Not at all power-hungry, politically motivated thugs (note also the clear indication that they’ve been torturing Threnhold – ‘misshapen and crusted with blood’; think about what they must have done to his hands).
And one final thing:
What happened to Viscount Perrin Threnhold was a travesty. I served in the Keep, and my blood boils when I hear people call him a tyrant. He was a good man who tried his best to free Kirkwall from the control of those who use power for their own purposes. It’s always been that way here, hasn’t it? Long ago it was the Imperium. Then it was the Qunari, then the Orlesians, now the templars… when have we ever ruled ourselves? He tried to kick those templar bastards out and give us real freedom, and what did it get him?
Fictional history is not exactly like real history, of course. For one thing, it’s less random. In the real world, some sources are deliberately preserved and some deliberately destroyed. But there are also things that survive entirely by chance: stuff that was put in someone’s cellar, or in a tomb, or even thrown in a rubbish heap that happened to have the right conditions to preserve something across the centuries.
Every text that appears in a game is put there intentionally. They want us to read it. This text, defending Perrin, was not only put in the game, it was associated with Marlowe Dumar. Marlowe is the victim of Meredith personally, and of the Chantry in general. He is a good, if not especially strong, man who is destroyed by the machinations of the Chantry. We are meant to read this, to look at Marlowe, and then to think about Perrin Threnhold.
So, in answer to your question … I’m not forgetting about Perrin Threnhold. Doubting might be a word for what I’m doing. Calling utter bullshit on the whole thing would be several words. But forgetting? No.
Remember Perrin Threnhold. Remember the Arishok. Remember Marlowe and Seamus Dumar. Remember Orsino. Remember the mages, the Tranquil, the elves, the Qunari, the Fereldan refugees.
And fuck Meredith, fuck Elthina and fuck the fucking Chantry.
This is some top-fucking-notch world-building and meta right here.
So, here’s the thing. When a person gets better, it doesn’t happen overnight.
Kiera knows this from her own story more than anyone else’s, knows how hard it is to shrug off the paranoia and the rage and the hurt, knows how the warped, razor-sharp pieces that hang out in the dark places of a person’s soul are always the most stubborn, the easiest to rile up and the hardest to choke back down. She knows passive-aggression and aggressive -aggression, knows accusing finger-points and precious knicknacks swept off the table and making Asra cry at three in the morning when he was just trying his best with the shitty hand he’d been dealt. She knows how much being a work in progress hurts. She knows the guilt in the aftermath of those bad parts getting the better of her, sitting up in bed with all that sorry eating at her insides.
And here’s the other thing. For many, many years, Lucio Morgasson committed many, many acts of heinous bullshit, and didn’t know what the hell sorry was. Regret, it turns out, when deferred, operates under a system of compounding interest. It sits inside one’s ribcage like an unpaid bill, racking up extra charges until Collections comes to call. When sorry hits Lucio for the first time, it hits him all at once and like a ton of bricks. The results are… ugly.
Yo, Arcana Fandom, what’s good? I’m Barry Southspinner and I’m here to MAKE YOU CRY and REDEEM YOUR VILLAINS.
So, I would lie and say that I have no idea what this is, but I totally know exactly what this is, and what this is is 5000+ words of purely self-indulgent Lucio redemption arc that I wrote at 3 AM when I should have been sleeping, paying bills, or otherwise being a functional adult. I rewatched the ending of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood recently and concocted a super sad headcanon for a potential Upright End for Lucio’s route, and then… well. This happened. This is my first foray into Arcana fic, and I’m hella rusty, so mea culpa for any iffy characterization, but again, this is mostly mindless self indulgence, so take it all with several grains of salt. I used my apprentice, Kiera. She’s a trip and I can’t wait to write more with her.
Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Arcana (Visual Novel) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak Characters: Julian Devorak, Asra Alnazar, Alizée Farroukh, Original Male Character(s) of Color, Lucio Montag, Portia Devorak, Nadia Satrivana, Muriel (The Arcana) Additional Tags: Dom/sub, Worldbuilding, Romance, Masturbation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Groping, Light BDSM, Sadism, Masochism Summary:
His eyes flickered up to meet the man’s gaze and felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “Well,” Alizée swallowed hard, sliding his arm as subtly as he could behind the counter, “You’d be much more handsome if you weren’t accosting me, friend.”
The man’s cheeks bloomed pink, and Alizée’s fingers gently closed around the mouth of a glass bottle behind the counter.
Chapter 3 of Stultus Montis is up, in which
Alizée
and Julian spend some quality time together running from guards who seem to have nothing better to do and get a little… rowdy.
Anon #2 I know you said or but WHY NOT BOTH? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Lucio/You/Julian. Gender Neutral reader (no pronouns or body parts, just nipples). Lemon.
Julian, cocky as ever, makes a bet with Lucio that he can make you come just by sucking your nipples alone. Lucio, always turned on by delayed gratification, accepts the bet and extends the terms. (Told from Lucio’s point-of-view, but still 2nd person for you as the reader).
Featuring: nipple sucking, semi-public sex and masturbation, orgasm denial and edging.
Summary:
After a terrible argument, Yasuo decides to leave home behind. No idea
where to go or how to make it through but sometimes help happen in the
most unexpected circumstances. Or how to find again a lost friend.
