Screaming Crying And Throwing Up This Man Deserved BETTER 😭

ALRIGHT!!! Ch. 12 :) i know it's been awhile since the last post, but this is where I've left off since the beginning of the semester! Everything post chapter twelve has yet to be written ajskakksks and may take a while longer... I'm hoping to keep the general motivation going for it though so !!! Wish me luck lmao

May and Oryn have decided it's time to end the siege, when Jonas makes an appearance.

Tags: @skidotto @idonthaveapenname

tw: mentions of death, abuse, murder, war, stabbing, blood, harsh weather

Ch. 12

            “Open the doors, Demetrius,” May’s voice was sharp and clear.

            “My Lady?”

            “Get Alec,” she said, “and open the doors. Send him out in the camps to help gather and shift everyone indoors.” Their steps were in sync as they climb the stairs from the basement.

            Demetrius nodded. “Whatever you say, My Lady,” he breathed out a light huff.

            May stopped in her tracks on the next step, putting up a hand and turning to face him. “You only ever listen without complaint to my stupid plans when your vehemently against an even worse one I’ve hatched. Out with it.”

            He moved past her, continuing up the stairs and gesturing for her to do the same. “It wasn’t smart to leave him down there.”

            May’s jaw tightened as she followed, now in his wake. “He needs answers. There’s no one else who can provide them.”

            “You don’t think he’ll kill the old sot?” Demetrius laughed, opening the hatch that led from the basement back up to the main manor.

            May shook her head, rolling her eyes. “What makes you think I don’t already plan on doing that myself? Besides,” The two of them stepped out of the shadows and back into the torch-lit halls of the manor, “He need answers. I’d like some, too.” She pushed in front of him with a slightly faster pace and headed towards her office.

            Demetrius nodded, letting the subject drop. “Tell Alec to start bringing in the men, and then what, my lady?”

            “Meet me here,” she called down to him, “the siege needs to end. Tonight.”

-

            “You remember me?”

            The room was dank, full of moss that had started to overtake the forever damp stone floor and walls, creeping white vines pushing through the cracks to make homes amongst them. Oryn could swear they heard the scuttle of rats in the rooms beyond, but was too busy with the task at had to force themselves to look further.

            “I remember,” they said, circling the man as if they were stalking prey. He sat upon a ratty wooden stool, legs bound to the legs and hands tied behind his back. May had requested that Oryn leave him here when they were done with him: she had her own questions to ask.

            “Good, then,” he said, sighing as his posture sunk further in on himself. They had cleaned his wounds and dressed him in slightly cleaner robes, providing a meal of whatever bit of food they could had on hand. “I’m sure you have many questions,” he coughed for a moment before catching his breath, “and I hope to provide some semblance of an answer for you.”

            Oryn stopped pacing to look Jonas up and down. With his face washed, feet bandaged, and beard properly braided, they could tell now that he must have been a man of status at one point. Alec had done well in teaching them the ways of local society and religion and they could recognize the symbols they saw floating amongst the books and scrolls; the large eight-point star representing the Siblings of Chaos was embroidered on his tattered undershirt, the same symbol with a circle enclosing it tattooed on the man’s chest. They hadn’t recognized that before, the one time they’d met that Oryn could remember.

            “They branded you for making Chaos?” they said, motioning towards the tattoo.

            He nodded. “But wouldn’t strip me of my status.” He shrugged his shoulder forward, once again showing off the pin. He’d carefully taken it off of the tattered robes he previously bore and attached it to the new ones provided him.

\           “You wear the High Councilor’s pin of the Sanctum,” they all but verbatim repeated from some thick tome or another.  

            “The Lady of Ilucia has been teaching you, I assume?” Despite the circumstances, the man laughed once again.

            “The witches never told me,” Oryn muttered, eyes becoming slits as their jaw twitched. They didn’t want to defend those who had sheltered them from the world, and yet…

            “They never told you much of anything, child,” Jonas said, looking up at Oryn from where he sat. “And yet, here you are. Making your way nonetheless.”

            Oryn shook their head. “I’m not going with you.”

            Jonas sighed. The look in his eyes suddenly became something dark and heavy, a deep pit holding all the answers anyone could ever seek and the horrors that come with them.

            “You can’t change my mind,” Oryn’s voice was calm. They counted their breaths, steadying their heartbeat as it started to rage in their ears.

            Jonas’s mouth hung open for a moment, his rotting teeth browning at the gums. “Your mother,” he whispered, his old and quivering skeletal body becoming still as his gaze bore into Oryn’s soul.

            They felt the blood draining from their face as they contested his gaze with their own, taking another step further towards the precipice. “I want to know of her.”

            He sucked in a fresh breath of air with force. “The Forgotten Princess, to be married to the Forgotten Prince. The stories they tell…”

            The text they’d read said nothing about any of that.

            Jonas could read the confusion clearly on Oryn’s face. “Not up to recent years in your lessons?” He choked on another short laugh, but his features remined hard and serious, his eyes lacking their jovial grandfatherly nature they’d carried before he’d mentioned…

            Oryn shook their head. “Speak plainly.”

            He sighed. “I find it a great shame,” he mumbled as he caught his breath once again, “that three women of such intelligence would keep such knowledge from you.” He hummed a bit to himself, scanning the small room he found himself in.

            “My… Tutor,” Oryn started, “told me that knowledge is how average men hold power. How they cope with never being allowed to Mend the sewn Chaos.”

            “Do you believe that?”

            “Not completely,” they said, their gaze hard. “It’s powerful, yes. I am strong in knowing,” they started slowly stalking around Jonas yet again, one slow step being taken after another. “But men are strong in other ways. With swords, axes, bows… they are all so weak when they’re leaking blood.”

            “The church,” Jonas mumbled, “the Sanctum. Do you think that’s power? Or the King?”

            “It is so easy to die, so easy to kill,” Oryn mumbled, “that it’s hard to look at an old man in a chair far too large for him and decide that’s the image of power.” They shook their head, stopped their pacing.

            “Men work in ways only the Gods may understand,” Jonas said, the legs on his stool creaking as he shifted his weight.

            Oryn let out a sly laugh under their hot breath. “I am angry with the witches for never teaching me,” she laid a gentle hand on Jonas’s frail and bony shoulder, “And yet grateful to never have known. I can look upon the societies that man has built and see how uncouth it all is; how seemingly barbaric and unestablished.” She shook her head as she lifted her hand from the man’s shoulder and walked to be in front of him, crouching down to meet his gaze with her own. “And your Gods…” they scoffed.

            Jonas looked upon Oryn with more than mere anger; the disgust was laid upon them with his unrelenting gaze. “You do not know of what you speak, child.”

            Oryn eyes narrowed as they looked deeper into Jonas’s soul, into what he’s done and who he was and where he’s been. They swallowed hard and took a deep breath as the drone started humming at the back of their head.

            He started to struggle against his restraints. “You don’t know what made you!”

            “Then tell me, old man,” they spat, “for my patience is growing thin.”

            His face contorted as the thrumming in his own skull started hammering harder and harder, begging to break free. “Demon!” He screamed, his hoarse voice echoing against the cold stone walls surrounding them while he strained against his restraints.

            “What am I, Councilor?” Their skin crawled with the potential of another kill, more blood spilled atop old stones that would forget the death as it was washed away. And yet they continued to hesitate nonetheless. Although this man would never get the pleasure of taking them alive, he was possibly the only person left alive who knew what they were.

            “Demon,” he repeated, his eyes still burning hot and wild as he coughed and caught his breath, trying to contain his fear.

            Oryn shook their head yet again, standing and resuming their pacing. "I may not have a very deep understanding of your Gods, but I can tell you that if they’re real, they’ve either left your sorry lot or have died.” She scoffed. “I find it horrid how you all can believe in something so… untouchable.”

            The man’s features changed, suddenly showing a deep and sudden pity for what must have been someone but a child in his own eyes.

            “I hope, dearest Oryn, for your lovely mother’s sake, that the God’s choose to have mercy on your dying soul.”

            He stoked the fire burning inside of them even more.

            They stood behind the chair he was strapped to, gripping the back of the chair as they watched the wood crack beneath their knuckles. They leaned down, their neck creaking with the strain of their spine shifting inside of them, their skin pulling itself taught as the muscle shifted.

            “Tell me of her,” they whispered against the skin of his ear, sending a shiver through his body as he mumbled a prayer, trembling in his seat.

            The creak of bone on bone rang through the small room, mixing with the squeaking of dusting rodents and the soft drip of condensation running down the walls. Their breaths created a harmony, Oryn’s staunch snout spouting steam into the air as Jonas’s fear sucked it deep into his lungs.

            He whimpered as the ropes dug deep into his wrists while he tried to break free and run from the beast lurking behind him, seeking answers only he could give. His eyes were shut tight as he felt the foul drool drip thick and heavy onto his shoulder.

            “Leandra,” he whispered.

            Silence.

            The crack of a shot from a bow rang out, an arrow piercing Jonas through the heart.

            Oryn’s face lifted quickly, standing on two hind legs and stretching themselves to reach against the stone ceiling, flexing against the restraint of their own skin.

            May stood in the darkened doorframe, crossbow positioned at her chest, pointing towards the dead man’s body.

            “Oryn,” she said, panting and wiping her brow. “We need you.”

🐍✨

Dr. Vrach sneaking out of camp to perform a ritual in the middle of the night and running into some vampire sucking on a boar

He's got too much on his mind (and, well, in it) to worry about it tonight though

grandpa & his slimy widowed bf love loses

im like if a girl was {undefined variable}. im like if a girl was [fragment missing]. im like if a girl was (editor’s note: the author’s invocation of the word “girl” in this context is idiosyncratic, perhaps metaphorical) im like if a girl was im like if a girl draft deleted! im like if a girl You have reached your free article limit! Subscribe now to continue reading. im like if a girl was [THREAD LOCKED] im like if a girl (ENDING EXPLAINED!) im like if a girl Unusual activity detected, please highlight all the pictures of bicycles. im like if a girl I don’t respond to prompts that could be deemed offensive, and so I am unable to carry out the request. im-like-if-a-girldeactivated03092023. im like if a girl we are unable to take your call at the minute. im like if a girl isn’t registered under that name. im like if a girl could give you her date of birth. im like if a girl oh yes we have you under […]. im like if a girl LOST CONNECTION

Send this to all your favourite moots and pass the pumpkin round! KEEP THE PUMPKIN TRAIN GOING 🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃

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Psychological Torment Of The Farmer

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"it's been a year, why are you still posting about him" because larian put the line "one night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to 200 years of misery" in their fucking game

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