Breaking News Man Gets A Manicure

midnight shitpost on main

I have nothing interesting to post😭 here's ocs and mr qi

(Also...Commissions open...👀)

Something 2 consider

"This person has a secret onlyfans!" "This artist does NSFW commissions!" "This author writes porn on the side!" I cannot begin to tell you how swag and awesome that is.

An amazing author that deserves your read!!

The General Prologue

Hello to any and all who find this post! I decided to take a chance here and post the general prologue for my fantasy novel. I've been (very slowly) chipping away at it for the last three years or so and I'm hoping hearing people's opinions on it might help to reinvigorate that spark to keep going. The chapter itself is below the cut and features elements of high fantasy, cosmic horror, animal death, and other unsettling imagery, so reader discretion is advised. Thank you for your time and attention, welcome to a small corner of my imagination :)

Prologue

“Be kind to the stranger. Give them food and drink, but never let them stay the night; the world turns real unfamiliar when the sun goes down.” 

~Red Ridge Mountain Proverb~

Elisenda

Of all life’s simple pleasures, Elisenda’s favorite was sitting with her dog and watching the sunset. Every evening, once the day’s work was done, she would reward herself with a cup of tea and barley bread, soaking up the last rays of the dying sun and greeting the pale light of the newborn moon. She practiced this tradition for the better part of forty years with various companions at her side, though none could replace her sweet late husband Horatio. 

It had been him who convinced her to slow down and enjoy what her late husband called “life’s little miracles.” If only he had known just how much of a miracle he was; friend, father, and husband. Elisenda saw her Horatio’s face every day in their son Alfi, another one of her former gazing companions, who had just recently taken up the habit of missing the sunset in favor of sneaking off to see the miller’s daughter after he finished his chores. 

The amber of the horizon stepped back to allow the full beauty of the scarlet sun to flourish. As she sipped her tea, Elisenda broke off a small chunk of bread and tossed it down to Lady, the family dog, who enthusiastically wagged her tail for more. The drink’s warmth mixed with the cool breeze of the new night’s air, creating a sensation like no other. Elisenda closed her eyes, taking in the full majesty of nature’s splendor. 

When the sun's light had finally died and the night’s bugs began to sing, Alfi had yet to return home. Usually he would be certain to get back to their farm before dark, as there were all sorts of dangerous creatures that could harm a fourteen-year-old boy. Few more minutes, then I’ll get to worrying, she thought to herself. 

Elisenda gazed up at the night sky, seeing all of the stars looking down on her, wondering if they truly were angels, just as her mother had once told her. One thing that was certain, the veil that used to shine so brightly had dimmed over the course of her lifetime. No matter what religion people devoted themselves to across these lands, all acknowledged the great rip in the fabric of the sky only visible at night above the Red Ridge Mountains. 

Though all beliefs had their disagreements about how to live and who to believe in, just about everyone agreed that the massive interconnected streams of light that hung high above Cairdeas were a gateway to something greater. As to what exactly that something was, once again, there were many schools of thought. In general, people called this divine phenomenon “The Veil,” and Elisenda’s farm offered a full view of its splendor. 

While its beauty seemed like an eternal blessing, over the course of her lifetime, the Veil had changed. As a little girl, Elisenda could see the brilliant colors glowing and moving from her home at the southern tip of the mountain range. She remembered watching the way the green lights would shift their hue to shades of blue, then come back around to green again. The way they moved was like watching the very heavens dance, both awe inspiring and disconcerting in their sheer magnitude. Over the years, the colors seemed to burn more dimly, the streams seemed to shrink in their number, and the disappearance of this clear divine presence left Elisenda feeling even smaller than before.

She attempted to take another sip from her tea, only to realize there was none remaining. As for the bread, only the heel was left on the small linen she had wrapped it in. Lady, who had been patiently seated and ready to be fed another morsel, looked at it with longing in her aged eyes. 

“Here you are, old girl.” Elisenda said as she tossed her the last of the food. “Meant to split it with you, guess I just got lost in thought. S’pose that means we’re both getting a little long in the tooth, huh?” 

Lady seemed not at all bothered by the delay in delivery, instead, she was merely content to be eating. Elisenda pet her on the head, scratching between Lady’s ears with a smile. Her mind turned back to Alfi, who still had yet to return home. It’s not like him to just up and disappear like that. Her lips tightened and her heart began to race, but Elisenda kept an even tone as she spoke to her dog. 

“Go find Alfi and get his ass back here, won’t you girl?” She asked. 

Ever the loyal companion, Lady wagged her tail enthusiastically. She understood the command and darted off into the night without hesitation. Elisenda already felt better about the situation, having full confidence that her dog would bring her son back safely. She grabbed her chair and brought it back inside, along with her tea cup. 

Elisenda grabbed a fresh candle from the cupboard and placed it in the lantern out front. She created a small flame with a strike of a knife against firesteel and a sliver of wood, careful not to let it go out as she carried it outside. When she lit the flame, she noticed just how loudly the candle crackled as it burned. Elisenda closed the latch of the lantern, muffling the noise, but it still remained the only clear sound she could hear. Only then did she realize that the candle itself was not loud, but the rest of the world around her had gone silent. 

There was no familiar rustling of the corn stalks, no chirping of bugs, nor birds calling out to one another. A chill shot down Elisenda’s spine as she realized that something was deeply wrong. She wasted no time in grabbing Horatio’s old spear off the wall, quickly slipping her boots back on, and taking the lantern from beside the door. The candle within would only burn for a short while, but there was only a small yet dense stretch of forest between her and the next homestead. She hooked the light to her belt and dared to brave the darkness of the woods that divided her from her nearest neighbor, the miller. This is no time for fear. Alfi and Lady might be in trouble.

The pathways she walked day after day felt like a safe haven, leading right up alongside where the farm ended and the thicker brush began. Each step sounded as if she were throwing her foot down on the ground with all her might, but it was merely the silence of the world around her that emphasized her every movement so much. Elisenda steadied her breathing, then looked down to see the clear divide between the beaten path and the unfamiliar woods. She tightened her grip on her late husband’s spear, praying to Lugus’lumfáda for his holy protection. 

Elisenda took her first step forward, then another, followed by another, with her eyes wildly darting from side to side as she continued. You’re doing this for Alfi and Lady. You’re the biggest and most dangerous thing out here. You’re going to get them back and get everyone home. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing just how far she had progressed from the safety of familiarity. The path was well behind her, yet the only sounds she heard were still the ones she was creating. 

She used the tip of her spear to push aside a large tangle of downed branches and shrubbery, only to be met with two large glowing eyes staring at her. Without hesitation she thrust her weapon forward, piercing the chest of the creature before her, yet those eyes remained open. Elisenda paused, grabbing the lantern around to get a better view of the animal she had speared. A rush of emotions came over her as she looked into the lifeless face of Lady, whose canine body was inextricably conjoined to the mess of leaves and branches, contorted into an unnatural position. 

Elisenda fell to her knees, covering her mouth to keep herself from loudly weeping. She examined the corpse of her beloved pet, finding far more questions than answers. Lady had scratches and rapidly drying blood over her eyes and snout, as if she had just been in a brutal fight. Across her back, thick vines rippled in and out of her skin, cutting through flesh with ease. The plants looked to be simultaneously impaled into Lady as well as bonded to her, with some small patches of fur sprouting along the twisted roots. Lady looked up at her owner, her jaw loosely dangling unnaturally wide, yet her gaze still held the same quality Elisenda had known since she was a pup. “What happened to you, sweet Lady?” She asked through tears.

The poor dog’s head remained upright, her eyes wide open. Her expression looked as though her final moments were those of a fear greater than any she had ever known, a primal terror that had overcome the entirety of her being. Against her better judgment, Elisenda looked into the eyes of her beloved dog one last time. It was then that she noticed a peculiarity in the lantern’s light, one eye was its usual dark brown color, but the other had a new greenish hue to it. That’s not right. Looks more like Alfi’s than it does Lady’s.

The candle began to crack over and over, the sign of an untrimmed wick and the flame burning out too quickly. She pulled Horatio’s spear from Lady’s grotesque carcass, dropping it on the ground and bringing the lantern near the open wound. Elisenda touched the odd patch of bare skin she had managed to skewer, fighting with all her might to keep the unspeakable thought in the back of her mind at bay. To her horror, Elisenda watched as the flesh of the open wound began to knit itself back together with plant-like fibers pulling each of the separated areas of flesh closer. 

She stepped back, reaching down for the spear only to be met with a thick overlapping network of roots and vines. Elisenda turned to run, but her boots refused to move, quickly swallowed by the entangled mess of vegetation. Panicked, she opened the lantern and grabbed the dying candle to try and start a forest fire, but it was too late. Vines constructed of mixed flesh and plant fiber took hold of her arms, knocking the light to the ground. 

Slithering up from the darkness, an eldritch beast, defined not by a face but by its oppressive presence, emerged from the shadows, and snaked up Elisenda’s leg until it wrapped itself around her chest. Each time she exhaled, its construction grew tighter and tighter. The light of the candle finally gave out, leaving them both in total darkness. “Lugus’lumfáda, Danu, all ye gods above are cruel monsters!” Elisenda cried out. 

The clouds that veiled the moon parted, and in the pale light she saw the twisted visage of her darling Alfi, the living memory of her dear Horatio. His slack-jawed mouth took in a pained breath. The voice that emerged carried the quality of a band of disharmonious flutes, each competing to play over the others, with every word taking great effort to pry itself from his throat. “We…are…not…gods…” 

What followed was a small twinge of pain at the nape of her neck. Elisenda tried to prepare herself for the experience of death, for an intense agony or an indifferent numbness, but instead she felt warmth moving through every inch of her body. In her mouth, she tasted a meal with the texture of beef but the taste of pork; and though she never chewed or swallowed, she already felt herself nurtured by the tender meat upon her tongue. 

Elisenda’s mind ceased to race as her rapidly clouding thoughts floated away down a river of consciousness. She had always feared dying, she had been afraid of slipping into the darkness alone, yet here she did not feel any loneliness. She felt as though all she knew was fading away, becoming a part of something more. She did not sense the cold grasp of death; in fact, she did not feel very dead at all. 

I'm back 😈

Here's chapter one! The prologue has been heavily edited, up to chapter five lightly edited. So please be nice with all the grammatical errors if you find them! (Also feel free to point them out; I've obviously missed them as of this far lol, much appreciated!) Thinking of maybe doing a character post regarding the main characters you meet here, Oryn and May.

tw: mentions of death and funerals/burial, grief, blood

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Our dearest Oryn,

Our faith is strong. Knowing it’s unorthodox means nothing; our souls don’t fear the plaguing nags of Chaos any longer. You can’t harbor any doubts as to where we will go once our souls leave our bodies: know they will all find their homes with the Gods. You needn’t waste your breath praying for us.

Knowing you, this cabin will soon find itself empty. The home we built together will be barren. It’s okay—you can go. We trust you. But remember who you are. Remember who we raised you to be. Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, remember what we taught you. You’re too smart for the world, so be prepared for the way they’ll treat you. It won’t be kind. But don’t let that discourage you. Know that here, in the forest, there is always our home waiting for you to return. Let it be your haven.

There are no others like you. You know what the world does to the things it’s never seen. Don’t go looking for answers in places where none will be found, even when it all becomes too enticing. That lure, that pull at your soul, it’s Natural Chaos slowly wrapping you in its snare. Don’t let it.

You’ve been loved, and in turn loved us. If you’re going to take anything into the world with you, let it be that.

Maureen, Elisa, Starla

Ch. 1

It seemed like mere moments, yet the two of them sat there for hours. As the sun bathed the sky in its hues of oranges and reds and purples and pinks, they sat in front of the three fresh graves in silence. Oryn turned the unlit torch over in their hands. The forest wasn’t mourning; it was empty. The life that the three of them had built here didn’t stop with Oryn or what they gave May; they kept the forest here full of purpose. Without them, it was like every living being knew that Oryn wouldn’t stay, so they didn’t need to, either. Once they left, they’d have nothing to protect anymore.

May wanted to give Oryn all the time they needed but didn’t know how time worked for them. She didn’t know how time worked for any of them; everything she seemed to learn about the three women they were about to bury only unearthed more questions that she never had the nerve to ask.

As the sun made its final dip over the horizon, Oryn stood, lighting the torch. May didn’t have the chance to stand before they dropped it in the first grave—Maureen’s.

The flames roared to life, like they knew they were releasing a soul to the Waters and Winds. Lighting two more torches, Elisa and Starla joined her.

May shuffled where she stood, clearing her throat. “Did they want us to perform any… rites? Or say any prayers?”

Oryn took their time to respond, making sure May understood their conviction. As a solitary tear ran down their cheek, they barked, “No.”

“You need time,” May nodded.

“No,” Oryn said. “Let them burn and fill in the graves. Then, we go.”

They stood their long after dusk, letting the flames turn to ash before filling the graves they sat in. Amongst the flowers and herbs and fruit trees would be three women who defiled every god in the name of building a home.

The silence surrounding them wasn’t one that bode dread; it was like the subtle breath of your lover lying next to you as you slept. The forest was letting them sleep in peace.

As May untied her horse from the post near the hut that was both Oryn’s home and prison, she could hear the wood sigh with relief.

They took their time leaving the forest, knowing they wouldn’t be back any time soon. The footpaths seemed to bleed into the plant life surrounding them, slowly rotting the roots and bushes into dust. It was a slow decay, the trees slowly dropping their leaves and petrifying within the few hours of travel it took for them to reach the forests’ edge.

“You should know,” Oryn said, clearing their throat as the steed took its’ final step from the forest into the field, “I don’t sleep well.”

As the crackle of the final trees solidifying rang behind them, May turned over her shoulder. “And by that you mean?”

“I talk sometimes,” they started, “and other times I’ve broken a few things.”

“In your sleep?” May asked, Oryn nodding a bit. “Should be fine. You’ll be on the other end of the manor so I’m sure it’ll be no bother. And there’s not much in the room to break, anyway. I’ll let the guards know not to worry if they hear you mumbling.”

“Guards?”

“Just a few,” May started. “They patrol the manor at night. Since I started commanding the New Guard…” she trailed off, her jaw tightening. “It’s just better to be safe.”

Oryn nodded, taking the two flasks from the small bag they carried. “We should drink these before we make it into town,” they said, reaching their worn hand over May’s shoulder and handing her one.

May slowed their horse, coming to a stop on the path in the lush field. Here, all the living things were normal, singing and chirping and fleeting from one patch of grass to another. She took the flask, holding it up to the moon to see the cloudy brown liquid inside. Taking a deep breath, she smelt something that took her back to the puddles of blood staining the manor’s floor.

Her hands started to shake, the brass ring she wore clinking against the flask. “How many times can someone take this?” she struggled, her throat and tongue contorting as each word barely made it from her mouth.

Oryn sighed, running a hand through their braids. “I know,” they said, downing their own concoction and gagging on the aftertaste. “It’s safe. It won’t break what you’ve built here.”

May sat up straighter, her free hand tightening around the reigns. “You know?”

“I know they gave this to you before,” Oryn stated, “and I know it worked. Drink it again and it’ll work now, too.”

May hesitated.

“I’m Oryn,” they started, their voice flowing freely and with a quality anyone would strain to hear. They starting listing prices for goods they didn’t know anything about, naming duchy’s they didn’t know existed and comparing them to men they’ve never heard of.

May wasn’t concerned if it would work. The hair stood on the back of her neck as the thoughts of the broken bottle and pounding feet ran through her mind; the gold sitting in the cove dug underneath the stairs in the manor by her grandfather. There were things worth killing over.

She put the flask to her lips, letting the taste of tar slide down the back of her throat.

“Good!” Oryn chuckled, a low hum droning in May’s ear. She gagged on the taste and dropped the flask, Oryn reaching around her to tug the reigns. “It’s sealed now. But you know that already.”

-

The cracking of wood rendering itself to splinters rang down the hall, sending another shiver down Alec’s spine. He turned to his lieutenant, looking up at him the way small boys do.

“Dutchess said not to worry,” he started, a yawn creeping from the back of his throat. “Besides,” he sighed, “we have to stay alert for real threats.”

Glass shattered, followed by a metallic grating that could only be a nail ripping itself across the stone walls. A deep hum started creeping its way up the base of Alec’s neck.

“But, sir,” he said, his brows furrowing. “Somethings not right.”

His lieutenant rubbed his temples before conceding, nodding at Alec and starting down the hall towards Oryn’s bedchambers. Alec followed in his wake, his falchion gripped the way he was taught.

Reaching the door, Alec stepped forward when he was gestured to and slowly grabbed the knob. The soft click as he slowly started to turn the handle made a bead of sweat start dripping down his back, the low drone of humming building pressure in the back of his skull. But, after a point, the handle wouldn’t budge.

“Locked,” he mumbled to himself, turning back to his superior. “We shou—”

Alec was flung back down the hall, the shreds of door shielding his front half from whatever came barreling down onto his Lieutenant. He couldn’t see it, but Alec heard the snapping and creaking of flesh tearing from bone mixed with the screams and pleas of his superior, which were cut short by a quick pop of his head. His gray brain matter hit the wood Alec was shrouding behind.

There were footsteps hitting the ground immediately heard down the hall, quickly running to the source of the commotion. As Alec trembled and tried to remember how to breathe, another man’s hand was yanking him up from the ground and pulling him back down the hall.

The beast was of no shape that any of them had ever seen. In a matter of moments, more guards were thrown back against the walls, the demon’s shrieking echoing off the stone. If anyone in the manor happened to still be asleep, they weren’t now.

As one guard after another went with spear after falchion, their meaningless cuts and stabs were rendered useless. As the thick, opaque blood started seeping from the gashes, the skin would mend itself, transforming itself into something new.

The hulking mass of meat and bone would grind, creak, and snap as its limbs changed, its agonizing cries of pain accompanying the transformations. The skin would contort itself, stretching and thinning to contain everything within.

May came barreling from her quarters, untied robes messily hanging over her old nightwear, sword brandished and glowing in the dim light. With a look of determination on her face—the one her men always looked to—she barked out an order and shouted the command calling the bulk of the guard to her back. As the echo of May’s voice started bouncing off the cold walls, a rush of wind flew through an open parapet, the torches amongst the walls hissing into darkness. The soft sigh of relief amongst the darkness turned into a quiet sobbing.

“I’ve…” there was a soft shuffling of skin on stone, a hiccup of a cry emanating down the hall.

Qi

<3

Oh the longing to be a gay cowboy 😭

the ghost of one specific homosexual cowboy regularly possesses Tumblr gays

Chapter 9 😌

Since college has started back up, I've taken a step back from writing *more* of the story and have been really focused on editing what I have, both for grammatical errors but also lots of worldbuilding, plot heavy stuff. Alluding to different events, setting up later plot lines, etc. I'll be going back and editing previous posts for the chapters as I go through them, but haven't yet! Stay tuned for that lol.

tw: mentions of restrains, bondage, bodily gore and harm, knives, blood, war, grief, death

tag list: @skidotto @idonthaveapenname

Ch. 9

“Is it too tight?” Starla mumbled as she gave a tug to the thick rope binding Oryn’s wrists together. They shook their head, eyelids drooping as a yawn escaped their lips.

The three witches worked in tandem as they set everything out of the room one at a time, slowly taking care not to break anything. As Maureen cast a soft yet powerful protective ward on the hard floor, Starla and Elisa continued with securing Oryn to the wooden bedpost atop the extra mattress.

The tears brimming in Starla’s eyes were in stock contrast to the anger in Maureen’s and the fear in Elisa’s. As the three of them woke together every morning, they wondered if they would survive the following night.

“It won’t work forever,” Elisa mumbled.

“I know,” Starla said, hiccupping a soft cry. “What happens then?”

“Fuck them all,” Maureen chided, finishing the transcription on the floor before lighting the lone candle on the windowsill. “Fuck that old man on that stupid throne, fuck the clergy, fuck every high councilor who had any hand in this… this ridiculous plan!” she grabbed at the windowsill with her bony fingers,

“Maureen—”

“No!” She screamed, ripping off a part of the ornately carved wooden piece, splinters falling to the ground as she crumbled the wood in her fist. “Fuck them all! Especially that good for nothing, washed up, old geezer who thought he had any right to lay a hand on her! To bring her into this! To bring us into this!”

She stormed to Oryn in her rage, her hands twitching as she looked down at the small child. It hadn’t even been a year since they found their way into the Witches care. The concoction given to them to help them sleep had already taken affect, their head lolling to the side as their chest moved with even breaths.

“It would be so easy to kill it,” she muttered, watching. Waiting.

Starla looked at her, whispering, “But he’s just a child.” Another tear rolled down her cheek.

“He killed her!” Maureen roared, turning on her two lovers with more rage than they had thought she could hold. “That bastard…. That monster… all I see when I look at him is her blood. I can’t…”

She stalks from the room, hands soft and laden at her sides, closing the door behind her.

Elisa looked at Oryn. Starla looked towards the window with the broken sill.

“It won’t ever be the same,” she muttered as she made her way towards Oryn, still lost to slumber.

“No,” Starla said, “it won’t.” She put a hand on Elisa’s back, leaning her head against her shoulder as Elisa continued to tie Oryn down. “But it’s not our place to choose these things.”

Elisa scoffed, wiping away a tear. “How do you still believe? After all this?”

She shrugged, pulling away from the bed and looking upon Oryn again. Elisa stood again next to her. “I don’t.” She pulled her tight into her chest, holding her close, letting her sob into her. “The Waters and Winds… it’s all a lie, Elisa. But with him… with that child here, it’s impossible for me to believe in nothing. Not with all he can do.”

~

“You’ve been reading about the clergy?” May set down the hot mug on the table between the two chairs, sitting in the empty one next to Oryn.

Oryn nodded, crossing their legs in the chair and leaning against the cushioned back, holding the warm mug to their chest. “It’s interesting. I didn’t know people could be so… structured.”

May laughed softly, only bringing more comfort into the room with them. The soft fire blazed lazily in the mantle before them. “That’s something you’ll keep finding as you keep learning. People like to control things. You can’t control things unless you make rules and make sure people follow them.”

“And to make them follow the rules you, what, reward them with titles? With the right to… do what they want?”

May sighed, looking towards Oryn. The differences in their features didn’t disturb May as much as they used to; she had grown to expect them every now and again. It was the calm look in their eyes that she found jarring. The way they were suddenly so calm in the midst of the first siege Ilucia had seen since before her father’s time; most don’t take their first battle well, let alone their first intentional kill. And Oryn was so…

“You’re staring.” They said, sitting straighter in their chair.

May shrugged, looking towards the fire and taking a sip from their mug. “Do you know how you got to be with them? Out in the cabin?” She knew it’d be a hard conversation to have.

Oryn let out a deep breath and set down their cup, closing theri eyes and leaning back again in the chair. There was a soft drone creeping its way towards May’s brain, starting from the base of her neck. She shivered as she realized it was comforting her.

“My mother died in childbirth,” they started, “I don’t know much about her. The Witches never told me; they said to never ask.” They opened their eyes and looked towards May as the skin around their jaw started to shift. First, she thought it must have been a trick of the dancing firelight, the shadows playing across their face. But the longer she watched, the more she could truly see the change.

Pain painted Oryn’s face as they continued, May unable to look away. “There was a man named Jonas. He was so old back then; I doubt he’s still alive. I met him once and he said he was there when she died, when I was born. He was the one who took me to them, out at the cabin.”

As they hissed softly between their teeth and gripped the arms of the chair, Oryn’s skin seemed to become a shimmering blanket of thin silk, bubbling and molding itself to the bones that had started to shift from one angle to another.

May shook her head. “You have to know more than that, even if they didn’t tell you.” It was a sight to behold.

As they slowly writhed in their seat while the rest of their body contorted, Oryn continued to talk through the pains. “Not much,” they stuttered, hunching over themselves. Their spine protruded from their skin, the vertebrae contorting with every small move they made. Their skin tore and regrew, the sinew stretching over the fresh wounds like an artist painting something anew. Oryn heaved, sucking in a breath between the agony, meeting eyes with May as their face was lost to the mass overtaking them; no, becoming them.

“They never told you what you are?” May whispered, brows furrowed as she studied them changing, the pounding in her head begging her to do something—anything—as she fought to resist it.

Oryn’s maw sat agape, brown teeth like daggers dripping opaque saliva as the eyes sitting behind their snout rolled back to the front of their head, the lids opening ever so slowly.

“I don’t think,” they huffed, voice no longer human, “they ever knew.”

They could only hold that form for a moment before crumpling in on themselves, the ravenous SNAP of realigning bone making May jump in her seat. Their skin was gray, sagging along their joints as it slowly rippled itself back to where it was meant to sit. But even then, the place where it was meant to sit was something different now.

Oryn’s head hung low, chin on their chest as their jaw ground itself down, chest heaving erratic breaths. “I don’t think anybody does.”

The heat building in May’s chest was abruptly extinguished, the thrumming in the back of her head ceasing. “We can find out,” she said, determination cascading through the room with her voice.

“Do you think there was a book they didn’t read?” Oryn laughed, sighing to themselves. “A spell they didn’t try?” They looked up towards May, their body shaking. “There’s never been any reason to it; never any explanation. I’ve never had control. Not until—”

“The fire. The start of the siege.”

The smile flitting along Oryn’s lips was small, but noticed. “I’m learning,” they muttered, slowly standing on shaky legs and walking with a limp towards the fire, leaning into its light. Their jaw was softer, their eyelashes longer, their body still a recovering version of what it’ll be once it’s finished. “I’ve ruined so many things. Destroyed so much, ridden with so much guilt…”

May stood and joined them huddling by the fire. “It can’t be your fault if you were never taught how to control it.”

“I know,” Oryn turned to face her, “I didn’t realize how much I didn’t know; how much they kept from me.” They smiled, a soft look of reverence overcoming their face. “I think I understand war now, May.”

“Really?”

“If someone is trying to kill you,” they said, “and you don’t want to die, then you’ll have to kill them first. Not because you want to.”

May shuffled a bit where she stood, sighing. “Almost, but… Well, that’s self-defense, I guess. War is a lot more than merely protecting yourself. Hell, if that’s all it was, I could only imagine where I’d be now.” Her gaze was lost in the fire.

“What I did, then, up in the attic… I didn’t do war? I just protected myself?”

May stood back a bit and laughed. She couldn’t help it, no matter the circumstances. “No, no. Gods,” she shoved Oryn lightly. “You don’t do war; you partake in it. It’s too big to think about in terms as simple as that,” she grabbed their mugs from the table between the empty chairs, handing Oryn theirs as she took a sip of her own. “And I’d say you did more than just protect yourself up there. You protected us,” she motioned to the room around them.

Oryn nodded, holding their cup with confidence. “Demetrius, Alec, you…” they lost themselves in thought for a brief moment, then met May’s eyes again. “And without you, who would be running the place? Who would be protecting these people?” Oryn’s eyes went wide, finally realizing that there’s another side to the coin bearing guilt.

May smiled and finished her tea, sauntering towards the door of the office. “With the control you were just able to exhibit,” she said, opening the door and motioning for Oryn to follow, “I think it’d be best if we starting getting you into a more… structured routine.”