The call of the void is coming from the balcony
L'appel du vide
So now I let my fate take over
And as I sink into the consequence below
The call of the void is coming from the balcony
L'appel du vide
So now I let my fate take over
And as I sink into the consequence below
Did some cursory shopping around for pajamas with sheep on them
Im watching 18th century reenactment cooking videos so naturally I've started a new sourdough starter and considering making mead and moonshine again
AYEEE MY MAN!
He finally dragged r@ts as hard as they deserve to get dragged lmao‼️
I know libras are fans of fairness and pretty words but as an aries, it's impossible to use pretty words when humans are stupid for the most part. "brainwashed sheep" amen!
Take a seat
i have almost no clue who william beckett is but this bitch gay as FUCK
WOOOOOOOOO I HAVE NOT SLEPT IN THREE DAYS LET'S FUCKING GO WITH A MUMZA & MR. TOMMY DANGER CAREFUL KRAKEN INNIT FIC WITH A THEMES OF REGRET AND CLOSURE WIHT A SPECIAL APPEARANCE FROM HAPPY GHOSTBUR AND FRIEND BC WILBUR SOOT CAN SUCK MY FUCKING DICK LETS FUCKING GO
Tw- a slight bit of a panic attack, but it doesn't last long at all, only a line or two, uh, death mention, Tommy's normal 'I love women' humor, I've taken the liberty to add some of my own hc about how this whole thing works and it's better than what ever Soot (derogatory) could come up with bc i say so. Wc: 4200 (lmfao 420 lol haha) AO3: here
Tommy regrets a lot of things. He doesn’t realize how much until he’s walking back from the hotel one cold, windy night. Nothing he would admit, oh no, he would never do that. It was only a way for people to target him more.
‘Talk less, smile more,’ Wilbur would say, ‘everything you say can be used by our enemies.’ And Tommy took that to heart… later than he should have. After Exile to be exact.
‘There’s a reason you never told Techno about what happened,’ Puffy had said, ‘you were scared he would use your trauma against you.’ And she was right… to a point. All this 'would say', 'had said', it didn’t matter to Tommy, it couldn't matter less because what’s done is done, what’s said is said, and who’s gone… is gone. Forever. There’s no point in fighting the unfightable. Battle, person, there was no point. The last time he reached to try and change anything he got killed- he was abandoned, again, and left to die. He knows his situation isn’t fair- Puffy’s told him so, Eret’s told him so, Ranboo’s told him so- but that doesn’t change the fact that it is. It is unfair that he can’t… have things, people. As soon as he makes something for himself, people try and take it away from him, as soon as he finds something that makes him happy they get snatched out of his hands, as soon as he finds people who are willing to help him, unapologetically, no strings attached, they are murdered in front of him. It isn’t fair, and no one else seems to see it. That’s something he regrets. Letting it get this bad. Because if all of this is happening to him, is being blamed on him, there must be something wrong, right? Ranboo doesn’t remember things, so maybe he did something awful and just… doesn’t remember. He burnt George’s house down, and if that warrants Dream’s abuse for months then he could have done anything to deserve everything else. To have almost everything and everyone he loves to be taken away from him time and time again. He couldn’t show emotion about it either, because he would be punished then, too. His best friend got blown up and he- he fucking- says something about how that’s not fair and then- he gets beat to death in a fucking box- for the crime of- fucking, what would that even count as, questioning the great Technoblade?
‘Oops- sorry- you enjoyed your music a little too much I’m going to kill your best friend and throw you in the prison for it, shouldn’t have done that, Tommy, c’mon now you now better-’ It was fucking ridiculous. He can’t understand why his consequences are so extreme compared to everyone else- Schlatt still got a grave for fuck’s sake! He has no fucking idea if anyone ever made him one- he knows Tubbo did, but Tommy and Tubbbo- Tubbo is the only one who actually gives to fucks about him at this point. Ranboo might be another, but with his memory shit, it’ll only be a matter of time before all he knows of Tommy is what other people tell him. Puffy’s only doing therapy for him because she feels guilty about losing Foolish, Eret, as much as he cares about her, is really only by his side because she feels she has a debt to pay, he’s the one following Wilbur around, fuck what Sam used to be to Tommy, Quackity was only going to get worse, Jack and Niki tried to fucking blow him up- anyone else who has unapologetically been by his side has been killed right in front of him. Everyone who has ever stood up for him has been killed in front of him or almost been killed in front of him- maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why no one wants to be on his side because they’re afraid of the trouble he brings.
He’s a liability. They don’t want to die- so they’d rather let him die than risk anything.
He’s not a kid.
He’s something to avoid like the plague, and anyone who even remotely cared about him caught it. He feels tears sting his eyes. He hears a big gust of wind shake the trees before it whips around him- carrying a voice. A familiar voice. It whispers in his ear and settles in his mind, soft, like a blanket, he can hear it clear as day, asking if he needs anything, asking what his favorite thing in the world is, crying- crying out that he’s scared- asking with tears burning his face if it’ll be alright, ‘You promised I’d be ok!’
He regrets failing Ghostbur the most out of everything. He regrets not spending enough time with him, he regrets not telling him how much he meant to him- he sprints the rest of the way home. The digs through all his chests, his ender chest, not stopping until he finds-
“Blue, blue, blue, where is it- fuckin- please tell me I have some left, no- fuck where is it? What happened to it- please tell me- oh thank fuck- thank fuck-” After combing through the same two chests multiple times, he finally finds a few handfuls of blue left. Choking back a sob, he sees what's left of the clear turn blue and grow heavy in his hands. Ghostbur remarked that any blue he gave Tommy turned blue on contact, that it was odd, because it only happened with a few other people- Phil and Eret. People with towering regret. Phil must have regretted killing Wilbur… Eret, well, Tommy knows all too well their regret. Tommy was never able to place exactly what his regrets were.
He knows now that his regrets have only grown to encompass everything he knows.
Fuck, he feels so guilty about Ghostbur- it was Tommy's fault, wasn't it? He blamed Sam in the moment, but it really was… he was the one who told Ghostbur what to do- he was the one to use him to get into the prison in the first place. And he had to try and- calm him down- his fear still haunts Tommy's nightmares. Because he did promise. He did promise everything would be ok. But it wasn't, Tommy botched it, and Dream- Tommy had to watch- shit, it was his fault. Ghostbur is gone and there's nothing he can do to bring him back. He doesn't know anything about resurrection, and he- maybe- what if he agreed to let dream out if he got ghostbur back- no, no- no, no that's exactly what Dream wants. He wants Tommy to feel as though he's his only option. So Dream still has control. He… the last thing he wants for Ghostbur is to become a trading point. On the verge of tears, the blue changes in his hands. That never happened before- the blue changing. He looks down, and sees that the blue has turned into wool.
He hears a sheep bleat happily outside his door.
He scrambles up, moving faster than he has in a while, throwing his door open- he's not at his house. He's… not in the server even- what the hell-
It's still nighttime, but the stars are thousands of times brighter than he remembers. Instead of the prime path ahead of him, there's a quartz walkway spanning under tall birch and spruce trees; it seems that the stars are in the leaves, too. He looks behind him, hoping to hide back in his house- but it's not there. Instead, a quartz and mossy cobble archway, with more quartz pathing spilling out behind it. Tommy… might be stuck here. But he doesn't start to panic. He feels a strange kind of calm. Like this realm will let him out when his business is done. But he doesn't know what his business is.
He feels the weight leave his hands. He looks down- and the blue wool has turned clear. It's turned into delicate spindles of… something. Back to its original state. That has… never happened to Tommy before.
He looks past his hands, and the path lights up where his feet are. He jumps around a little, the light disappearing when his feet leave the path, and reappearing as they make contact again.
He dances around, his smile growing bigger.
The stars and the leaves seem to laugh with him.
"Hello, Tommy." a soft voice says behind him. A woman's voice.
Tommy stops, turning around, his grip tightening around the… well, it's not blue anymore, is it?
The woman is standing under the archway, tall, wearing black robes that flow around wings that are tucked neatly behind her, her long black hair almost seems a dark purple when it catches the light. To top it all off, she has a large black hat, similar to a witch’s hat, but Tommy understands that she doesn't want to hurt him. But he can never be too careful.
"Who- who the fuck are you?" Tommy says, defensively.
"Please, don't tell me that's how you greet every woman you come across?" She says, lightness in her voice and laughter in her eyes.
"Only the ones who trap me in weird- what is this place?" Tommy mutters, then asks.
"This is my home," she says clasping her hands together in front of her. "I figured you might need some closure."
"It's very pretty," Tommy murmurs again, looking down at his feet.
"Thank you, Tommy, I-"
"Wait, how do you know my name? I've never seen you before, and trust me, I would remember if I had met you." Tommy says, trying to lighten the small ball of worry in his chest. The woman laughs.
"Oh, you are exactly like my husband-"
"Oh no- You're married? Why?? A woman like you can't be tied down to just one man-"
"Tommy!" The woman laughs more.
"Augh- you're tall- you're so fucking tall and dark and mysterious- fucking hell you're tall- like I'm comfortable enough in my masculinity but still-" Tommy laughs, "and you're wearing all black- who's funeral are you going to?" he adds sarcastically. His face falls as her mood noticeably changes more somber.
"Everyone's- and no one's." she takes a few steps forward, and sighs. "My name is Kristin, Goddess of death."
"...what- i- how can- Wait a minute- oh fuck am I dead again- Wait a fucking minute where the hell were you the first three times I died- or for Tubbo- or for- Wilbur- Ghost- Ghostbur? Mexican Dream? Are they here? What do you fucking mean goddess of death? Is this the afterlife? Why the fuck didn't we go here-"
"Tommy, Tommy, I understand that you are.. allowed to ask questions, I called you here against your will- I will let you go back, I promise, and I'm going to try and answer all of your questions. Shall we walk?" She steps up, offering an arm.
Tommy is hesitant. If she… is actually the goddess of fucking death itself does he even have a choice? He nods and takes her arm. He immediately is filled with a cozy warmth- like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy day, finally getting in bed after working all night, a warmth that feels like home, like rest. Tommy muses if that's what a true, honest to prime death would feel like. When your joints finally stop aching, your breath stops rattling around your lungs.
His didn't feel like rest.
He wonders if he'll have a true death- he wonders if his joints will ever stop aching, because they do already. His breath rattles around in his lungs. Will he ever feel rested? With everything he's been through, with all the guilt he's got, probably not.
"Tommy-" Kristin begins to say,
"Are you an American? You sound-" Tommy tries to postpone the conversation he knows she's about to start
"Tommy-" she sighs, but he knows she's not mad.
"I know, I know, I use humor to cope with my trauma and to avoid talking about it, Puffy's told me this." Tommy quickly says. He feels something light brush his other arm- a feather, Kristin's put her wing around him.
"Puffy's smart, you should listen to her." Kristin nods. "But even Einstein didn't have all the answers-"
"-so you still should ask questions." She waves away his confusion with a motherly smile. "And you've asked plenty. And I have plenty of answers. So, one, no. You aren't dead. I simply realm hopped you to me. Any doorway can become a gateway, and it is quite easy to make one for someone like me. Something that I can't do, however, is help with pre-set death rules. Each timeline we make- just plain old 'live your life and die' got boring, so we shook it up. You all got canon lives, which… are completely not up to me. I do not get to decide which death is canon or not, and I don't get to even interact with your spirits until the third."
"Ok, then I wanna talk with the motherfucker who is in charge of those because I have a few words for them-"
"Tommy, trust me, you don't. While you are of great interest to them, and they do like you a lot, they are not going to budge on things. They are stubborn as hell- but they're a storyteller."
"Well, they're fucking stupid whoever they are."
"Although, something they- any of us really- didn't plan for was Dream having the revive book- or the revive book getting stolen from my husband in the first place. I can't tell you how many meetings I had to sit in to try and convince the others not to smite him off his earth- but that's a story for another time. Because of Dream knowing… the contents of that book, he was able to hold souls from coming to me, and he was able to place them wherever he liked. He didn't do Wilbur's soul correctly, however. His soul slipped through the cracks and got placed in… he called it limbo? That caused some issues for Dream that I'll tell you about later, but he messed up again, placing Mexican Dream in a limbo of his own, but those circumstances allowed me to save his soul from Dream-"
"Wait if you could save MD then why not-"
"Wilbur, like I said, slipped away from Dream and fell into his limbo. But, because Dream had no hand in actually directly placing Wilbur there, I wasn't able to save him. Not to mention, the manner of his death…. Nevertheless, I was able to save Mexican Dream from his limbo. In hindsight, I maybe shouldn't have, because Dream learned from that and you… you were placed somewhere I can't even access-"
"The void," Tommy whispers. He doesn't want to think about it, he shifts closer to Kristin, holding tighter to the fluff in his hand and onto Kristin's arm. She, in turn, holds him closer with her wing.
"There's an in-between life and death, and an in-between here and the limbos. Pockets of emptiness, waiting to be filled. More people find themselves there than you think, but even fewer who find their way out- you, and one of our own. There have been others, but your entire life has been different. Do you remember your life before the SMP?" she asks, softly. "You don't have to answer, but it's something to think about."
"I just want- Wilbur said that his limbo was awful. That he was there for thirteen years and that it was awful, and now because of me Ghostbur is there, too…" The black hole in his past is the last thing he wants to think about, so he changes the subject- guilt radiating off him.
"Remember the reason why I couldn't save Wilbur?" she asks, a twinkle in her voice.
"Because Dream didn't put him there- you can only save people who got put somewhere they weren't supposed to be?" Tommy looks up at her, hope tingling in his chest.
"Because Wilbur's soul fell… as naturally as it could have, Dream had to find a soul to replace Wilbur's with- with you, there was no need to find a soul to replace, because he had your soul in his hand, but for Wilbur, it was a… natural resurrection. With a missing soul, the entire continuum would collapse. So, he swapped Wilbur with Ghostbur. He placed Ghostbur somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. I was able to save him. Would you like to see him?" she smiles down at him.
"Wait he-" Tommy stops, his head spinning. Kristin stops too.
"He's safe. He's safe, and it's actually because of you. Because of that book- you can only place a soul in the void once. That was you. He had to put Ghostbur somewhere I could get him, or else his plan falls apart. Now… I can show you where Ghostbur is. But, I can't let him see you, or let you talk to each other. It's a precaution we have to take-"
"No, no, that's fine I just want to make sure he's- that he's- that I'm not-" Tommy shakes his head, trying to clear his mind, he feels like a vice has been released- one of many, but it's one. He takes a long shaky breath and nods his head. "I want to make sure that he's happy."
"Alright, come with me." She leads Tommy off the path and into the trees. Tommy hadn't lied when he said it was pretty. He has lighter steps now, and his smile is bigger than it was when he got here. They walk a little ways, Tommy sprinting when he hears the sound of familiar laughter, bright and carefree. He peeks out from behind a tree to see a clearing with a small house, mossy stone bricks, wood, and- and cobblestone. And, one semi-translucent ghost sitting behind a wall, in a garden of blue and yellow flowers, giggling. He's got a new sweater, still yellow, but there aren't any stains on it- blue or red. It's just… yellow. Pure yellow.
"I also pulled a few strings after that Skeppy incident," Kristin says, coming up behind Tommy, and Tommy perks up as he hears Ghostbur laugh again, this time a blue sheep running around the wall and up to Ghostbur.
"You found me! Good job, Friend!" Tommy hears Ghostbur say. Tommy feels a sting in his eyes, and then a hand on his back.
"You promise he's happy?" Tommy whispers.
"I swear," Kristan answers. Ghostbur stands and says something to the sheep, who bounds away. Ghostbur begins to count- backward from 10. Tommy doubles over, clutching his stomach.
"Tommy?" Kristin crouches down next to him, rubbing circles into his back.
"Counting down from 10 is not a good thing, I've decided," Tommy says, looking ahead, as Ghostbur laughs his wonderful laugh and disappears around the wall. His throat becomes dry, he doesn't want to cry in front of a goddess.
"It wasn't your fault." Kristin stands next to him, Tommy straightening up to meet her.
"Wasn't it?" he feels a tear run down his face, as he stares at the spot in that gates where Ghostbur was just moments ago.
"It was Dream's, as are so many others. Just because he punished you, doesn't mean it wasn't his fault, to begin with. Chances are, it was his fault more than anyone else's," Kristin says, her hand still running Tommy's back. He sniffles. "Are you ready to go?"
"I know, I'm sorry." Kristin's hand leaves his back, and it takes all his willpower to turn away from the small cottage and follow her. They make it back to the path, and she stops, "Oh, he gave this to me, but I don't really need it, so here. Have some blue."
That's when Tommy cries.
She's holding out a handful of light blue wool, he opens his left hand to show his one wool, now a dark blue. He reaches out, quickly, snatching it out of her hands, and he sobs out a sorry. The blue, once again, turns dark blue on contact. Then it turns clear- and then immediately turns dark blue again. It fluctuates between clear, and every shade of blue, as more and more tears fall from his face. He blocks out Kristin's words on habit- Wilbur would be telling him to suck it up by now. He tries to stop the tears, to stop sobbing, to regain composure, but he can't.
"I- I- I've- I'm a murd- I murdered pe- people- I'm not- a good p- person- why- did he tr- eat me like- I was- he treat- they tre- treated me like- like- like- like a human- when no- no one else- did- and- look at- look at where that got h- him-" Tommy turns his face into Kristin's side, and she hugs him close, closing her wings around him too. He holds the blue up to his face, letting the tears catch in it.
"Tommy, there's a reason they chose you. It's because they saw what you could be- who you could be. They wanted to help you. They knew, under all that doubt and hurt and regret was a boy who loved his friends. And they love you, too. I swear on it." She keeps rubbing circles into his back, letting Tommy cry. "I know all about sorrow, Tommy," she says, kind, "I understand that you will hurt. There's no bringing back who you lost, and it will hurt for as long as you live- but that hurt is proof that you care. It's proof that you are a good person. You are a good person."
Tommy breathes in a long shuddering breath, and lets it out, moving his arms to hug her back.
"Thank you, mom- oh wait I'm sorry-" Tommy pulls back, absolutely mortified at his slip-up, Kristin just laughs- not at Tommy, no, no, it's happy… motherly.
"No, Tommy, I can be your mother if you'd like!" She smiles.
"Yeah, because Puffy is kinda my dad because Phil didn't really do a good job." Tommy looks down at his feet.
"Oh, of course, I think my husband would be fine with adopting another kid. Although, considering what happened to the first one- I'm kidding, I'm kidding, he could have turned out worse," Kristin laughs, holding Tommy’s face and wiping away the tear marks.
"Wait- wasn't I flirting with you a few minutes ago-" Tommy smiles, laughing too.
"Welp, you're still my mother now- that makes you a milf, you're welcome!" Tommy doesn't mean anything by it, of course, he's just pointing it out.
"Tommy!!" Kristin laughs harder, and Tommy's smile grows bigger. "We should get you back anyways, you need some sleep."
"But moooooooom-" Tommy complains, joking, of course.
"Now, now, Tommy, I am your mother, I know what's best," Kristin says, picking up the bit.
"My stomach hurts, do I have to go to school tomorrow?" Tommy jokes, walking back towards the archway.
"Oh dear," Kristin tsks, walking next to him, putting the back of her hand up to his forehead, "You don't seem to have a fever at the moment, we'll see how you feel in the morning."
They laugh and joke around until they reach the portal, and she reaches up to pluck a feather from her hat and hand it to Tommy.
"A token for my son. Something you can flaunt around. Also- can you do me a favor?" Kristen smiles.
"Oh, of course!" Tommy gingerly takes the feather and spins it around in his fingers.
"When you get back, can you just tell my husband I said hi? He'll see it." She looks through the empty portal longingly, and Tommy wonders who this husband is.
"If he ever hurts you I'll kill him, " He says, completely serious.
Kristin laughs, "I know you will, Tommy, I know you will. Thank you." She snaps her fingers and the archway leads into his house. She ruffles his hair, and Tommy playfully swats her hand away. "I'll see you again, be safe, ok?"
"I will. Tell Ghostbur, if you can, that…. Tell him that I'm sorry, and that I miss him?" He says, one foot through the gateway, before stopping and looking back.
"I will. Good luck, Tommy.” She smiles, and Tommy can’t help but smile back. He steps through the portal, and looks back one last time- and it’s gone. He sees those oak doors, the prime path outside, he hears Shroud above him. His smile stays.
/msg all: Hey, Kristin’s husband? She says hi.
/msg all: She also adopted me so I’m your son now, good luck L kekw
With that, he closes his communicator and lets the chaos ensue. He spins the feather in one hand and holds the blue- back in its original... substance? He opens his ender chest, placing the blue somewhere he knows he’ll find it, and lays the feather next to his discs.
“Thank you. I’ll do you proud.”
SOLOMON I NEED TO BORROW YOUR POWERS. NOW.
Dia may be my one true love but i don't take pacts lightly and I will NOT allow my first to be mistreated this way!
Don't worry baby I'm gonna take care of you and your baby girl. This will not happen again.
Ingrid Bright 🍑🍰 Peach Cheesecake [Yandere!CEO - OC Bio]:
(TW: family issues, family issues relating to coming out/transition, also I'm very dumb and don't know anything about corporations and robotics )
She/her. Trans and pansexual.
The 24 years old CEO of Bright Vision Corporation, a company that claims to focus on technology and robotics, may or may not be hiding some seriously sinister business practices from the general public.
Although being very young and very new to the occupation, Ingrid Bright it's infamous for her attitude and tough exterior, which is caused by her inability to properly socialize and her inability to control her anger around others.
Ms. Bright was always a hot headed person, but after inheriting the company she started to feel less and less relaxed, which worsened her reputation to the point people would refer to her as a tyrant. Because of her demeanor being misread so often, Mr. Bright created an A.I assistant to be a communication bridge between employees and Ingrid.
In the Bright family, it has come to be a tradition to pass the family business to the oldest/only son in the generation when the boy becomes 19 years old. For that to happen, the Brights make sure to properly teach and prepare him to be able to manage the corporation.
However, this tradition used to be reserved only to the men of the family, so when Ingrid was able to come out as a woman, her family was very reluctant to break said tradition- Even she was the only next heir to the leadership of the business.
Ingrid hated that rule even when she was younger, yet being in charge of the company was all that she wanted as a child- Blinded by the dreams of helping humanity with the technology created in Bright Vision Corp. When her rights to a position inside the corporation was being threatened, she decided to not go down without a fight. A long argument that lasted days, and a fight for her right to continue the family business that lasted for months until she was finally given what she spent most of her life training for.
On her 19 birthday, Ingrid had took position as the CEO of Bright Vision Corp, and as a birthday gift, her dad gave her the android assistant that would help her on her goals, yet her parents decided to move far away from the business and from their own daughter after having such a long and exhausting fight.
Ingrid at first felt very impatient with her assistant, as to her it was a twisted reminder of how awful she made everyone around her feel, due to her inability to properly express herself. Not only that, she would often miss her father despite her anger towards his actions and words towards her.
After three years of not talking with each other, Mr.Bright decided to try and talk with her once again, and although he really missed his only child, he was still unable to understand and accept her as who she is, always referring to her by her old name. She called to try and fix things but after seeing that neither of them would be able to find an agreement, she cut her connections with him once again.
Every year after that, he would send her the same birthday gift in hopes of being able to talk with her again. A bouquet, and a birthday card with his name and his number, but she always burns away his gifts- As she not only doesn't want him to be as rude and ignorant to her again, but also because she feels vulnerable calling him- Even if she really misses him.
Ingrid may seem intimidating, but deep down she is really sensitive and worried about letting her guard down around people, which causes her to be very condescending and rude- Which also isn't something she wants people to think of her as. She hopes that while she grows to be a better boss to her employees she can also become a less aggressive person and a better friend to her assistant.
[Bio may get updated]
They fixed your brain when you were young. They fixed your brain when you were young. They fixed your brain, they fixed it. Before you knew the difference.
She was sleeping in the crumbling root-choked passage to begin with because one hole was as good as another after being chased a muddy league by bandits through slabs of hail and freezing rain.
If Sharp-Knuckles had bothered to follow the tunnel to its end she would have found a wide yawning cavern beside the long, knife-thin gorge and its waterfall, the damp walls writ across in old dragon-tongue, the air smelling of dragon-fire. She slept instead in the warm earth and woke there, suddenly, to the sound of living thunder.
But faraway the galewinds were howling, and the falls poured into the deeps, shaking the ground. For half a second she was relieved, having made only a silly mistake, after all— then came again that thunder through the bones of the mountain: "I can smell you, volaan."
She scrambled awake and stared. At the end of her tunnel glowed a great sulfurous golden eye, and the voice like a falling tree spoke again. "Are you as you seem? Speak, or be destroyed."
Her mind was skittering. He had spoken in Nordic, and she couldn’t remember how to begin. A dragon! She caught her thought by the tail and creaked, "I'm no enemy of yours!”
The eye lowered away. "Come out of that hole, worm."
If she fled the dragon would spew fire through the webbing rivulets of tunnels and no enchantment in the world would save her. If she did as he said the dragon would shout her to pieces. All the same she climbed up, shivering. He must be smelling the soul she had eaten. She ought to tell him so. Xhuth—! He would snap her up. He would sear her to ash.
The dragon scraped the cavern ceiling. He was greyish and glittering, sharpened to dark hoary spikes along his jaw. His tail lashed through the mist. His eyes burned. "Tell me what you are."
"I have part of a..." Her stomach writhed. Coward! "I have killed... your brother. I was one of the— I shot his wing, and he fell—”
The dragon bared his long spear-sharp teeth and crept forward, so that his great dark head hung inches away from hers, and said, with fire wreathing his tongue, "you are dov, or something like it, even if you are very small and wormlike. Death hangs upon you. You must be dovahkiin."
She saw then that part of his side was crusted bloody, and a wing held tenderly against it; his shadowy scales were coated in ice. He could have scorched her with a Word by now. "I was looking for a bit of shelter," she began, and swept a hand toward the rainy gorge, "the hail was thick as gnats and getting thicker. I couldn't dream of flying through a storm."
"The rains of Keizaal will last the week or longer. They are not impossible to fly. They are... cold." The last came out on a very noble whine.
"This is the furthest north I’ve ever been."
"You have come to kill my kin." He spoke this slowly, without fear or anger. The snarl had left his face. “Your kind are dragon-slayers. It is your fate.”
"Not mine," said Sharp-Knuckles, levelly. She looked up at dripping dark scales and the wound in his side. "I wasn’t sure of your brother's deeds— besides, ah, flying and burning— nor his name— but I put up a... hm. A grave-stake—"
A fiery huff. Sparks snapped in the wet dark. "What is that."
"To honor his memory," she began, and then hummed low and flat at herself. What was she doing? “...it's a tradition. Among my people."
The dragon considered this. "You are dovahkiin. But you are neither nahkriinah nor drundaanal. What is it you have come to do?"
"I'm a trader," she said. "Nothing more. I don't— I sell some things and barter others. Remedies and the like. Tonics, potions. The occasional spell.”
"...Wunduniik. Hmm." He turned away and looked at the white rain that frothed over the mouth of his lair. "The one who burns within you was once Mirmulnir. A strong hunter. That was his fate."
"Which are you?" Revenger— or destroyer— swallower of foolish saxhleel—
"I am only Malfahluaan." The dragon regarded her with one grave golden eye. "A gardener."
I’m back and with real Life photography rather than shitty memes