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SF's "Write Your Butt Off" Competition HD II.5 Remix

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Okay debating whether or not to go for something angsty/edgy or something ridiculous and light hearted.

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11 minutes ago, Ottservia said:

Okay debating whether or not to go for something angsty/edgy or something ridiculous and light hearted.

I vote ridiculous-I liked your isekai thing a lot and from what I can tell you do edgy most of the time.

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4 hours ago, Benice said:

I vote ridiculous-I liked your isekai thing a lot and from what I can tell you do edgy most of the time.

I second this. Do ridiculous.

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On 3/20/2020 at 10:59 PM, KingStaragna said:

Never done anything like this before, but I love writing and there's no excuse not to now that I'm locked in the apartment. I'll throw something in, I think.

Ooh, new face, welcome! Glad to have you along for the ride!

On 3/21/2020 at 10:20 AM, Ottservia said:

Okay debating whether or not to go for something angsty/edgy or something ridiculous and light hearted.

I mean, if you can, do both.

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Had more time to put some polish on this one being stuck at home in quarantine. Reasonably happy with how it turned out.

TITLE:  "Life's Legacy"
WORDS: 1,626
FANDOM:  Fire Emblem Awakening
 

 

 

 


"Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust. Yay, though I walk through the shadow of the Valley of Death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me."

The mortuary priests sung the old familiar funeral hymns. The liturgists burnt their incense and swung their censers. The congregants bowed their heads and offered their words of solace.

And Nowi watched wordlessly as the man who had been her husband was lowered into the ground.

“He was a good man” Father Brady, now an elder clergyman in the twilight of his years, offered feebly. He was one of the last of them; so few from the generation of heroes were left to pay their respects. Chrom and Sumia had passed. Frederick and Cordelia had passed. Maribelle and Ricken had passed. Sully and Stahl had passed, Lissa was an old crone, and Donnel a shriveled old man who walked with such a shake in his step he looked as though a light breeze might knock him over.

“It’s better this way.”  She spoke, not entirely cognizant of what she was saying. “He was—suffering.”

“Aye.” Brady leaned upon his cane, knowing well the truth of it.  Of late, his old bones had started to ache. “So go we all.”

Seventy-five years had passed since she had taken the man in the ground as her husband. To him; the joy of a lifetime. To her; a season’s fleeting.

"Hey now! Don't start cryin', Nowi! I ain't goin' nowhere. I guarantee it!" he had told her the night she accepted his ring. "I vow never to leave you—cross my heart! Look, Nowi! I promised, didn't I?"

And she had known it was a promise he could never keep. She had cried even then for knowing what was to come of it; the understanding that she had accepted the inevitability of this day the moment she committed to make her life with him.

At first the years hid the lie well enough.  

But then all-too-soon his hair grayed and his back hunched, and the strength that had once carried the weight of the world upon its shoulders could not lift him out of bed. And he had sobbed a sob that hurt her heart the first time she brought him a meal in their private chambers, because he couldn’t push his body to reach the kitchen. “I use to be able to swing a 20 lb. axe like it was made of paper!” he was inconsolable. “Now look at me. I CAN’T WALK!”

…No… she shook away the memory. She wouldn’t remember him like that. She owed him that much.

She would remember the headstrong, bullchested, force-of-nature of a man who lifted her up and swung her over his shoulders and full-sprinted about camp with her mounted atop him, while she tussled his hair. The man who could throw a hammer clear across a stable. The man who loved life and every second of it that he spent with her.

 Not—that. Not what he had become at the end.

The worst of it hadn’t been the physical decline. The worst of it hadn’t even been how it had broken his spirit; how he hated himself for becoming a burden.  

The worst of it had been knowing it was a pain that was his alone and that she could not lessen by baring with him.

…he passed his prime and grew shorter of breath and stiffer of limb by the day.

…he lost his vigor and then his mobility and then his continence and then his senses.

…he despaired with the despair of a bedridden man whose life had only ever been one of action and physicality, and who knew no other way to live.

And she could not offer him the comfort of taking that journey with him. That had somehow made it worse—his grim determination that it was not right for her to be by his side, wallowing in his morbidity. That in this way he had somehow wronged her. That every day she had sat tending to the needs of a decrepit invalid was a day she should have been enjoying her best years.

He had never forgiven himself for that.

“I hate it.” She told the only other mourner in attendance who could truly understand. “I don’t WANT to live for 10,000 years. I wanted to grow old with him.”

“You knew that was impossible.” Tiki counseled. “It never gets easier; witnessing the fate of their kind. But—you made it harder than it had to be.”

“I’d do it again.” Nowi affirmed, stubbornly. “Their lives are so short. But in that time they live so—intensely. Love so completely. Like every single moment counts.”

“For them it does.” Tiki did not doubt it.

“That’s what makes it so special. A human’s life in a human’s span.” She had lived it. It should have been a trivial thing, that passage of time, and yet the last 75 years had changed her more than her first 1,000. For the first time in her life: Nowi felt old.  “We can never live like that. Except with them—we can.”

“It is not in our stars to live their lives, anymore than it is in their stars to live ours.”  Here Tiki was unconvinced.  “A dragon’s lifetime is vast. Do not be so eager to live quickly.”

“Have you never loved them?” Nowi asked.

“Not as you have.” Tiki answered. “I have loved them. I have always loved them. But never have I taken one as a consort. Nor have I bore their children.”

“Why not?”

“…Because…” Tiki regarded Nah—head cast down, tears running down her face—furiously going about the task of shoveling dirt into her father’s grave, as though each mound full of earth tossed atop him were another praising verse for his eulogy. “Because of this very day.”

There was a moment of silence, and a wordless understanding between them.

“You are weary. Rest.” Tiki counseled further. “Awaken in another time and distance yourself from this moment. It will help.”   

“I will not.” Nowi refused.

“I see.” Tiki paused. “What then are your intentions?”

“…”

______________________________

(Many Years Later)

Mavis was, by all accounts, a complete dingus. At nineteen years of age the boy was the splitting figure of youthful male virility: bronzed of skin, blonde of hair, tall and well-muscled and bristling with a swagger that was often misplaced but never absent.

His praiseworthy characteristics ended there.

His first day at the Academy of Ylisstol he had challenged his professor to a drinking contest. Thereafter he had flunked out in record time, and taken up service in the Ylissean Guard...

…Where his first day deployed in the field, he forgot his axe and was seen trying to subdue an armed bandit by wrestling him to the ground…   

It was shortly after this incident—oddly enough, as those who told the tale would have it—that Mavis was summoned to appear at The Temple of the Heavenly One.

“Shame our House again, and it will be the last thing you do.” The boy’s father scolded him as they ascended the Temple Mount. “I cannot fathom what wild lies you told to receive the honor. Nor can I imagine that you understand the weight of it. But the Heavenly One herself has deemed you an Aspirant of the Hero’s Title.”

“The aspir what-now?” Mavis was confused.

“Oh for the love of—if you
impress her…” his father spat the word as though the very notion of it offended his sensibilities, “…then you will be granted the honorific of our blessed ancestor’s namesake. And you will perform deeds worthy of it.”

“Oh. That.” the youth wasn’t impressed. “Mavis the Vaike sounds kinda lame, don’t ya think? How about Mavis the Rad.” He flexed and did a pelvic thrust. “Ohhhhhh. I know. Mavis the Swag.”


This conduct earned him a stern reprimand and a smack upside the hide.

“It has been three generations since an aspirant was summoned to appear before the Heavenly One! Longer still since one was deemed worthy of the sacred title! You will speak with reverence of such things in this place, or HOLD YOUR FOOL TONGUE!”  The Father demanded, as they crested the summit of the temple grounds.

The day was hot, and the journey up the mountain a long and arduous one. Which Mavis’s father understood to mean that he was to wash himself and anoint himself with oils before entering the Temple and don fresh robes—so as not to offend the blessed ancestors with the stench of his exertions.

…and which Mavis of course understood to mean that he was to take his shirt off…

“This is—an honor of a lifetime.” The Father bowed deeply before the Temple Caretaker. “Please accept these humble offerings of…”

“WOW, NICE PLACE YA GOT HERE!!!” Mavis blustered in, loud and oblivious and bare-chested. “OH—SWEET!!! YOU GUYS HAVE A POOL!?”

“MAVIS!!! YOU HORRID CHILD!!!” The Father damn-near died from embarrassment.

“Its quite alright,” The Caretaker did not seem to mind at all. “Ahhhhhh. I see why mother has taken a shine to this one.”

“Why hellllllllllo there, little lady,” Mavis took notice of her. “Heh. You’re kind of a cutie.”

“MAVIS!!!” The Father was mortified.

“I told you. Its fine.” The Caretaker dismissed him, and took Mavis by the hand. “Please. Come with me. Mother will be so very happy to meet you.”

“So like—what’s the deal, lady? You and your mum live here; is she the Heavenly One everyone keeps going on about?” Mavis asked.

“Yes. Something like that,” the Caretaker smiled mischievously.

“What’s she want with me?”

“You—remind her of someone.” The Caretaker told him. “And Please. Call me
Nah.”

 

Edited by Shoblongoo

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Aha! You may have thought I had given up on this! Or simply forgot I ever expressed interested in participating. Which is fine if you forgot, it's okay. Whatever the case, in the words of Anavel Gato at Solomon: I have returned! Though before getting to my entry, some pre-notes:

Spoiler

- This is an idea I've long had planned to turn into a fic. In fact, my original plan was, and still is, to do it for something else which I won't name for reasons. In any case, I saw I could use it for this prompt as well and so I thought, "Well, why not?".
- I have seen that talk in the previous pages about word count length preferences and... well, suffice to say, this might not endear those preferring a short story on that department. As I felt I had to go for the word count that I did to properly convey my idea.
- Why I decided to finally do this now? Well... I don't really have much of an answer to that. Blame the Covid-19 or something...

Without further ado, here's the story. Enjoy.

Title: A Transfigurative Overclass
Word Count: 6350
Fandom: Fire Emblem - Shadows of Valentia

Spoiler

Scattered across the land of Valentia lie various ancient temples. Usually found in remote or secluded areas, it is said they were built and dedicated to ancient gods that inhabited the land long ago. Far long ago, before the dragon siblings Duma and Mila became the new object of worship for the people of Valentia. It was here where those old gods resided, served and attended by their followers. In recent times, these temples lie now abandoned and in various states of ruin. It is rumored that while the old gods were driven out of the world, essences of their power remained behind, on the very temples that were used to worship them. In addition, just like how the gods would bless their followers with their power, these left-behind essences would do the same. As it is, when it comes to stories like that, it wasn’t long before they would spread across the land. People claiming to have visited the altars, received the boons contained within. Overall, many dismissed them as old wives’ tales; but others would take heed of them and travel to find these temples. Among them, was a young lady named Silque.

A cleric from Novis Priory, Silque had spent the last few weeks traveling across Valentia. The continent had just recently emerged out of a state of turmoil. War between the nations of Zofia and Rigel, which took years to run its course. Though it had finally ended, it had taken its toll on a big number of people, leaving them suffering. As a follower of the teachings of Mila, she took it as her duty to help them. No matter where in Valentia they were, she would heal their wounds, soothe their pain, lessen their hardship. It was during her travels when she first heard about the temples. There was one that caught her attention, said to house a boon that benefitted women of the cloth. An idea began to form in the mind of the young cleric. If she could obtain such a blessing, it would be of big help in her current task.

It was then that after a few days of travel, she had reached her destination: A small secluded valley nested in the Rigelian mountains. Right at the very end of it, was one of the temples. As the stories said, the building had seen better days. Though still looked far from being in any structural danger. With some trepidation, the young cleric ventured inside. To her surprise, she quickly found the place wasn’t abandoned. She was greeted by an old hermit, seemingly a caretaker of the place. Hair already gray and covered in a brown cloak, clutching a wooden staff in hand, he was all too happy to receive her, hear her out, and speak about the place.


“Yes, I can see,” he had said. “You were right to come. This temple is also called the Altar of the Faerie.”

“Fairy?” Silque repeated.

“No, not fairy,” the old hermit shook his head. “Faerie. Stress the last syllable, not the first. There is a difference. In any case, the Faerie, also known as Titania, ruled the daughters of the gods with purifying light and healing power. Only those who walk the path of the saint may receive her boon.

After indicating her where to find the altar, they parted ways. After walking through a long corridor, she opened the doors that lead to the room with the altar. It was circular in shape, as well as of considerable height, extending both up and down, giving it the form of a tower. It was seemingly composed of three floors. Each had an alcove encompassing almost the entire circumference of the room. Lit torches adorned the walls of all three alcoves, while pillars were placed at the border of the alcoves and the shaft. The edges were walled off, reaching about waist high, as a way to avoid someone falling. The floor on the middle level was a straight pathway from the door to a center circle platform. It had a couple steps leading up to it, flanked by two small pillars housing a torch each at the top. Unlike the alcoves, the pathway and platform didn’t have its edges closed off, though they were both wide enough the fear of falling was negligible. Though if one were to look down the shaft, they’d find the bottom was filled with water, of undiscernible depth, leveled to the floor of the bottom alcove. The ceiling wasn’t completely closed off. A circle hole was present, letting the sunlight in as a pillar of light that shone at the very center of the platform. There, under the light, was the statue of a woman.

She stood on a square pedestal, a seemingly neutral expression on her face. She had hair that reached her upper back. She was clad in a dress, though it was hard to discern where it began, for the statue lacked any color or markings to easily tell. What was clear, however, was that the skirt portion reached down to the pedestal itself. It had a slit to the side, one end slightly lifted by one of her arms, exposing the woman’s legs. The woman had her face facing forward, towards the entrance, though most of the rest of the body was instead turned to the side. Combined with the position of the arm and skirt, it seemed the statue was depicting her in the middle of a twirl. The most eye-catching detail, however, were the butterfly-like wings on her back.


That must be Lady Titania, Silque realized. I see now why she was called a fairy. Well, faerie.

She began to approach the statue, walking down the pathway and up the stairs. She then stopped before the statue. She looked up, staring at it, puzzled.

“Now what do I do?” The cleric wondered out loud. “Do I just pray? Make an offering?”

Past experience told her that perhaps just praying would be enough. After all, that’s what worked when receiving power-granting boons from the Earth Mother’s statues. Besides, she hadn’t brought anything with her that could be served as an offering, so that was out as an option anyway. Her action decided, she first placed her staff to rest atop the pedestal, just before the statue. Taking a step back, Silque then closed her eyes, clasping her hands while bringing them just below her head, leaning slightly forward the latter. It didn’t take long before she knew it had worked. Though unseen by her, she was enveloped in a pillar of magic light, while she herself began to feel as power began to course into her.

However, she soon took note that something was different. A sudden sensation coursed all across her body. It felt as if a Warp spell had been cast on her; but not quite. Once it ended, she took note something had changed. First, her hands were no longer clasped, or even close to her head. Her arms were back at her sides, except that her right one was positioned in a way as if she was once more holding her staff. In fact, she was indeed holding what felt to be like a staff. Second, she felt a strange sensation at her upper back, as if something had attached itself to her body. Two somethings, actually. Lastly, she felt all around her that her clothing had changed. Eyes still closed, she didn’t dare open them due to the light enveloping her. However, it would soon subside; which it did. Knowing it was safe to do so now, she opened her eyes.

As soon as she did, she was greeted by the sight of a stone wall. This confused her, for she knew there was no such thing before. She then looked up. Her confusion would turn into surprise from what se saw. Rising above her was none other than the statue of Titania, now a towering figure seemingly as tall as the temple was. She then looked all around her. The platform had seemingly expanded as well, for the floor now went far beyond from what it used to be. The pillars, alcoves, the ceiling, even the entrance; they all looked much more distant. Simply put, it seems everything but her had gotten bigger.


But how? Silque could only wonder. Praying at the statue couldn’t have done this, as it should only affect me. Wait… It slowly dawned on her. It was me. Whatever happened, it was to me! But then, if everything else looks bigger, then it must be that…

She then gasped, finally realizing.

“I shrunk!” She cried out, in a voice that had now risen several octaves in pitch.

Panic quickly overwhelmed the cleric. She barely registered dropping the thing she held in her hand, as well as the sound it made as it hit the floor. She fearfully looked around again at the now enlarged room. At simple glance, it was hard to tell just how small she was. Likely only a few inches of height she had left. One thing was clear, however: There were many things that could now pose a danger or a struggle to her, and others that just became more so; vulnerable and handicapped at such a smaller size. She quickly looked back at the statue, the culprit of her current predicament. Panic-driven and not thinking straight, she took a few steps back, as if staying near it would bring forth further misfortune. She was quick to snap out of it when she stepped on her own clothing, which made her stumble. A quick response avoided an outright fall, though it also served to snap the girl out of her fearful trance. As well as make her remember a few things.


Oh, right, Silque thought, as she looked down at her herself. The statue did more than just shrunk me.

The first thing she took note was her clothing had been almost completely replaced. Gone was her habit, replaced with an equally floor-length white gown of elaborate design. Her hands were now covered in likewise short white gloves. From the front she could see there were two attached capes behind her. Green in color, they were positioned closer to her sides, leaving her back exposed. Speaking of exposure, she could feel the gown left her upper back bare. The ensemble also came with a lot of gold, ranging from trimmings and patterns on the clothing, to all kinds of accessories. The latter included shoulder pads, oddly enough, as well a lot of roses. Her headdress was gone, leaving her head exposed. It had been replaced with a circlet, with another gold rose attached to it on the side. From underneath the gown, she felt she now had longer socks, while her shoes were likewise replaced. Only her undergarments seemed to have remained the same, though this was something she couldn’t really tell for sure without actually removing the gown.

It was there, as she was checking herself out, when Silque finally took notice of the weird feeling at her back. She tried to glance back to see what was it. To her surprise, she was greeted by a semi-translucent figure, round in shape, glowing in a white light with a slight light blue hue over her shoulder. Looking over on the other side, she saw a similar one.

“Huh?”

As the cleric tried to get a better look, she was suddenly startled when not only did she saw the figures twitch, but was also able to feel them moving; with an accompanying tingle coming from her upper back. As they moved, she was able to see them better.


They’re wings! Silque realized.

Indeed, she now had wings sprouting from her back.


Is this why this gown has an exposed back? She pondered.

The wings themselves, between their glow and transparency, they almost seemed made from magic itself. At the least, she was certainly sensing magic from them. Tentatively, Silque approached a hand towards one of them, and lightly poked it with a finger. It twitched again, and once again she felt the movement, as well as feeling the sensation coursing across it all the way to her back. That confirmed it: They were not just solid and attached to her body, they were seemingly part of it too, magic constructs or not. Looking at them closely, she saw they were shaped like a butterfly’s. The cleric looked back up at the statue of Titania.


Just like hers, she noticed. Then, the blessing was to… turn me into a fairy?

She went deep in thought. For how sensible it sounded, there was still something off. Mainly, she had heard nothing of the sort of this happening. The stories and rumors never spoke of a drastic transformation as part of the blessing. Not on this or at any other temple. Which meant she wasn’t going to find answers from them. Her face then turned into one of realization.

“The old caretaker!” She squeaked out. “He must know!”

Silque quickly turned, in the direction of the entrance. A sight which quickly dismayed her.


It’s so farther away now, she thought, the preceding hallway likewise has become much longer for me. It’s going to take too long to walk all the way back. The stairs will also be a problem.

The only saving grace was that she had left the doors of the room open. Otherwise, she’d be left trapped in. Since the only other exit was the hole in the ceiling. An observation that made her eyes widened in realization.


That’s right, I have wings now! She glanced back at them. It could be faster if I fly. Although… she frowned. How do I… do that?

Unfortunately, this was something Silque would have to figure on her own. Just the idea alone of having gained two extra appendages was so foreign to her. That they were wings and they may be actually capable of flight was just outright bizarre. Then again, it was proper to what she was now, no? In any case, this was something she would had to do, lest she remained so restricted in mobility.


May the spirit of the Earth Mother guide me through this ordeal, Silque inwardly prayed.

As it turned out, it started simple. Simply moving the wings proved to be no different as moving any of her limbs. Though she had to specifically concentrate on them at first. The speed at which they flapped was also something she had to control. After a few minutes she started to get the hang of it, even managing to move the wings without having to concentrate on them. Afterwards, however, came the hard part. Unsure on how to begin, she simply began to flap her wings.


That should be enough force, Silque gauged, looking at the wings before facing back front. Then I just… jump?

So she did… and immediately regretted it. While the small hop she made proved to do the trick, creating a starting force that the wings then took and began to elevate her further, she soon found herself losing her balance. She started to move erratically, her body twisting around, her limbs flailing.

“Aaaaaah!” She cried out in panic.

As she watched around her, she saw the capes of her outfit swaying wildly. Her eyes then widened in fear. She feared that if this kept going, the capes would disrupt the flapping of the wings, sending her crashing onto the floor. However, to her surprise, once they were about to collide she felt the wings actually phasing through the capes, as if they weren’t there.


Is it a property of them because they’re made of magic? She wondered.

In any case, despite this less than graceful start, she was soon able to steady herself. Returning to an upright position, and her wings flapping at a steady pace to remain hovering in place. She took this moment to calm herself down, steadying her breath.


Now, to actually fly… she thought next.

Fortunately, this proved to be not as hard as taking off. She found she simply had to lean her body, shifting first her upper torso, in the direction she wanted to go. Forward, turning, sideways, even backwards. To change her elevation, she only had to flap her wings either faster or slower, then return to the steady ‘remain hovering’ pace. The more she practiced, the more confident she felt.

“This should be enough,” Silque told herself as she came to a halt.

She didn’t felt quite ready yet for more complex maneuvers. Simply being able to just move was enough for her for now. To return to where the old hermit was. She had barely propelled herself forward in the direction of the entrance, when she made an abrupt stop.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She said out loud.

The cleric turned her body around, so she once more faced the statue of Titania. Looking down at the floor before it, Silque quickly spotted the item she had received from the blessing, which she had dropped from the shock of finding herself tiny. She fluttered down towards the object in question, keeping herself steady for the landing. While still far from perfect, she was able to return to the floor without stumbling in the process. She then walked the remaining distance, and picked the object up. Her previous intuition had been right. It was indeed a staff. Unlike her actual staff, which was still resting on the pedestal, this one was more ornate-looking. Its design was the same, however, with the only exception that it lacked the orb held by the ends of the horseshoe-like design at the top found in other staffs. Instead, the main shaft of the staff, usually ending at the base of the horseshoe, continued past it instead; topping off with a briolette cut crystal, pointed end upwards, like a spearhead.

At this Silque looked up at the pedestal.


Too bad I can’t take my staff too, she thought.

It couldn’t be helped. It was now too big for her to carry, let alone use. This new staff back in her hand would have to do for now. With nothing else left for her to do here, she took flight once more, and proceeded to fly towards the entrance. Passing through the open doorway, she was now in the adjoining hallway that led back to the entrance hall. Like the altar room, the hallway seemed more imposing at her smaller size. While flying was certainly faster than walking, it was still going to take her longer than if she had been at her original height. On the flip side, the stairs that led up to the doorway at the other end of the corridor that would’ve been a problem for her to climb up had she remained grounded, she simply passed them overhead with ease.

The cleric soon made it back to the entrance hall. A big room, though not as big as the altar’s. She quickly spotted the old hermit near the temple entrance, who seemed to be in the process of relighting one of the many torches placed atop small pillars lined by the walls. Silque then flew towards him, increasing her altitude so she was leveled to his face, in order to better get his attention. As she got close, she started to get nervous. She knew the man had seemed friendly enough; but now that he was basically a giant to her now, she felt unnerve. Yet she knew she had to, in order to let him know of her plight.


“Um, e-excuse me, sir!” She called out, once she had gotten near.

The old hermit, who was about done, stood back up from his leaning position.

“Hm? Ah, back already? Though you don’t need to speak from afar,” he started to turn around, “young… lady?”

The sight of the now inches tall winged girl before him made his eyes widen in surprise.

“Goodness gracious!” He exclaimed, almost dropping the flint he was carrying. “What happened to you, child?”

“Um, well, when I received the blessing,” Silque explained, “this happened!”

“The blessing? Hmm…” the old hermit frowned with a pensive look. Could it be…?

“I see,” he whispered, before softening his gaze at the fretting cleric. “Well, my dear, I may know what exactly happened to you.”

“R-really!?” The cleric clasped her hands, hopeful.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It will take some time to explain, so let’s discuss this over tea. I went to prepare some, intending to offer you some once you had returned; but it seems you may need it regardless. Follow me.”

With this, the old hermit began to walk. Silque waited a little before flying after him. She was led to a door on one of the side walls, which opened up into a hallway. This one was much smaller than the one leading to the altar, with more doors on both sides. The old hermit stopped before one of them, and opened it.

“Please, come inside,” he said.

Silque promptly did. The room that greeted her on the side looked like a bedroom, clearly the one the old hermit was occupying. It didn’t have much. Other than a bed, it had a bookshelf, a table and two chairs, and a few clothes hanging from hooks on the wall.

“Wait here, I’ll be back with the tea,” the old hermit said before disappearing into the corridor.

He had left the door open, something the cleric felt grateful for. The room had no windows, so otherwise she’d have been left trapped in. It was a fear she was starting to develop, all things considered. Not knowing for how long he’d be gone, she fluttered down to land on the table. So she waited, alone with her thoughts.


He said he might know why this happened, Silque thought, looking at herself again; but will he also know how to reverse this? She began to fret again. What if he doesn’t; and I stay this way for the rest of my life?

“N-no! Don’t be thinking that,” she scolded herself. “I’m sure he will know of a way.”

Shortly after, the old hermit was back. He carried a small tray which contained a kettle and two cups.

“Sorry if I took long,” he said, placing the tray on the table. “With your, uh, current state, I had to look for something more appropriate to serve you the tea in.”

He then withdrew a hand into his cloak, before extracting from within a small object, which he then kept on an open palm for her to see. On closer inspection, Silque saw it was a thimble. At first, she gained a look of understanding, which was then replaced with one of confusion.

“Then why the second cup?” She asked.

“It’s for you to sit down on,” the old hermit replied.

With his other hand, he grabbed one of the cups, then placed it back down near the cleric upside down.

“Oh… thank you,” Silque replied.

Though grateful for the gesture, she couldn’t help but feel slightly disheartened at the sight of the cup. Since between it and having to drink from a thimble, it was further reminder of her current predicament. In any case, while still shorter than her, the cup was too high to just sit down. A minor issue at best, that she solved by simply lifting off from the table then flutter down to land by the edge of the flat underside.

“My, that was some very precise flying,” the old hermit commented, as he was doing his best to pour tea from the kettle into the thimble without spilling. “Despite likely not being long since you got them, you seemed quite well accustomed to those wings already.”

“Well, I did practice a little before coming here,” Silque replied, as she placed her new staff down next to her on the cup.

“I see. In any case, it’s still remarkable to have learn so quickly,” the old hermit placed the kettle back on the tray before bringing down the thimble. “Here’s your tea.”

Silque took the thimble with both her hands. Relatively speaking, it was still a little oversized for a makeshift cup, as well as heavier due to being made of metal; but it was close enough to serve its makeshift purpose just fine.

“Well then,” the old hermit said next, as he sat down and began to pour tea on the remaining cup. “As you may be well aware, you’ve been transformed into a fairy.”

The cleric nodded, as she then took a sip from her tea. It was sweet in flavor, that of chamomile, with a small hint of citrus.


It’s quite good, she thought.

“So tell me,” the old hermit continued. “What do you know about fairies?”

Silque took a moment to think, time in which the old hermit drank from his cup in turn.

“Fairies are small human-like creatures, all female, with great magical power,” Silque recited. “It is said they were commonplace in ancient times; but nowadays it is rare for even rumors of sighting one to appear.”

“That is correct,” the old hermit nodded. “Now answer this: Do you know how or why they came to be?”

Once more Silque took her time, this time simply sitting still instead. This time around, she didn’t have an answer to give. However, from what she had witnessed and learned so far, she still had something to say:

“Was it due to the Faerie?”

“Why, yes, you catch on quick,” he replied with a chuckle. “Indeed, it was Lady Titania who was behind the existence of the fairies. Creatures born of magic, blessed with her power. She treated them with the care no different a mother would to her daughters. That is why they are named after her.” He drank from his cup once before. “Due to their small stature, they weren’t able to do much on their own. However, thanks to their magical prowess, they could act as support for the Faerie’s followers.”

In her mind, Silque immediately visualized a warrior battling a revenant, sword and shield in hand. She had also pictured him clad in a green tunic. All this while a fairy would hover overhead, staying out of danger but remaining close. She then imagined the revenant landing a hit, greatly injuring the warrior and sending him tumbling down into the ground. The fairy, however, would then cast a Recover spell; and the warrior would then quickly get back on his feet and continue the battle.

“However, they weren’t just created,” the cleric would be snapped back to attention as the old hermit continued. “The Faerie was also capable of turning humans into fairies.”

“R-really?” Silque asked in amazement.

“Yes,” the old hermit replied; “it wasn’t something she did often; but old scrolls stored here tell it did happen, when someone was deemed worthy of it. Therefore, that’s what happened to you.”

“Can her altar really do that too?” Silque asked.

The old hermit frowned.

“To be honest, I had no idea it could,” he replied, surprising the cleric. “I am as surprised as you are. Others have come before you, seeking her blessing. Of those that could, this didn’t happen. It’s nothing my predecessors and I have seen before.”

“Then… why this happened now?” Silque said. “Why me?”

“I can only guess,” the old hermit said, as he grabbed the kettle to refill his cup. “Maybe it was a rare occurrence that was due to happen sooner or later. Or perhaps… it was the will of the Faerie.”

“The will of the Faerie?” Silque repeated.

“Yes, her will,” the old hermit nodded. “Many of us caretakers of the temples have questioned at least once how can they grant the blessings they do, if the ancient gods are no longer in this world. I’ve seen it in the journals they’ve left behind. Some think the gods never left, that they just hid their identities, or went to live in remote corners; and so they’re still connected to the essences they left behind. Others, that they became the very essences themselves. A few, myself included, instead believe that they left behind more than just an essence of their power.”

“You mean like a part of their very self?” Silque questioned.

“In a way, yes and no,” the old hermit answered. “Not an actual part. More like a ghost, an echo, an imprint of their will. Able to act on its own, yet considers itself a part of them. Whatever the case, it’s very possible that, one way or another, it was the Faerie herself that was behind your transformation,” he smiled. “In that case, you are very fortunate, to be truly blessed to be considered worthy to become a true daughter of Titania.”

Silque was left stunned, as she took all that in. A small sense of dread creeping up on her.

“And… is it… reversible…?” She almost didn’t dare to ask, knowing the likely answer already.

“I’m afraid not,” the old hermit shook his head. “There’s no record of such a thing happening, let alone being possible. Though why would you consider throwing the blessing away?”

Hearing those words, the cleric couldn’t take it anymore.

“B-because…” Silque started, before suddenly taking flight once more, dropping the now empty thimble onto the table. “Look at me!” She cried out as she stopped to hover not far from the old hermit’s face, as tears began to swell in her eyes. “How am I going to live like this!? Too small to do much of anything! Maybe the actual fairies wouldn’t think of it, as they were born that way; but why would a human accept to go through with it? What did they gain in becoming a fairy?” She then covered her face with her hands as she began to cry.

The old hermit looked at her with pity. He wasn’t sure what to do to calm her down, so he let her be as she vented out, crying in mid-air. This went on for a while, and eventually the cleric would calm down, the crying subsiding. She then uncovered her face.

“Feeling better?” He asked her.

“Y-yes,” the cleric replied with a sniff.

The old hermit grabbed the thimble and proceeded to refill it, before wordlessly offering it to the cleric.

“Th-thank you,” Silque replied, taking the thimble again.

The old hermit sighed as he watched her fly back to the upside down cup, before sitting back on it and take a sip from the thimble, gazing down at the table.

“I can understand your frustration,” he began. “It wasn’t something you knew could happen, or had the chance to decline; and yes, that form is very limiting in the physical sense. However, being a fairy does have its merits, and those are why many clerics before you sought to get transformed into such a form.”

“Like what?” Silque asked, gaze still down.

“To start with, have you noticed anything about your magic after you transformed?”

“Huh?” At this the cleric finally looked up back to him. “My magic?”

She thought back to the time she prayed before the statue.


Did anything else happened? Silque wondered as she tried to remember. Wait… yes, there was. I did felt power coursing into me. I was so caught up on this fairy transformation I had forgotten.

Now that she began to pay attention, she did felt her magic was stronger. Not by much, but there was noticeable enough difference.

“Yes, I do feel it somewhat stronger,” she replied with a nod.

“What the fairies lack in physical prowess, they make up for it in magic,” the old hermit explained. “Many consider that merely receiving the blessing of the Faerie make you an exemplar in her fields of expertise. That of light and healing magic, or White Magic as it is known nowadays,” he paused to take a sip from his cup. “However, it is the fairies who are the true exemplars. It may not look like that to you, since you just received the blessing; but that is normal with fairies that are former humans. They need to train and develop it, unlike the fairy-born who are adept since birth. It might not completely make up for the physically shortcomings; but at least you’re not just simply loosing from the transformation.”


I suppose he has a point, Silque conceded.

“However, do not think it is just for the power. It was something offered to them; and if they were willing to go through with it, it was because of their devotion to Titania. They who served her loyally and worked hard for it.”

Silque took in his words, getting pensive about them.

“Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Huh?” She was caught unaware by the question.

“Tell me, whose teachings do you follow more? The War Father’s or the Earth Mother’s?”

“The Earth Mother’s,” the cleric answered without hesitation.

“Well, that should be easier,” the old hermit muttered. “Anyway, would you not have done something similar for the Earth Mother, back when she was among us? If she were to have offered you a blessing that carried some kind of negative consequence, but you could put its benefits to good use in her name; would you have done it?”

Silque looked down, deep in thought.


Putting it that way… I see, I understand now.

“Yes, I would have been willing to, if it would serve the Earth Mother and the people of Valentia,” she replied in a determined tone, once more taking flight, though this time she kept the thimble in her hands. “That’s why I came here in the first place. As I considered the Faerie’s blessing would help me further on my current task: That of helping the people in the aftermath of the war.” Her expression then faltered a bit. “Despite that…”

“Now now,” the old hermit interrupted, signaling with a hand for her to stop. “Don’t be thinking back on it being a mistake. Like I said, this was considered a grand honor who any woman who served the Faerie. It’s something to be proud of. Besides, as I mentioned before, this had to have happened for a reason. Despite others coming before you, it was you alone who received the higher blessing. Perhaps it was granted to you on purpose. Be it her actual person or an echo, she considered you worthy of it. It is as much a gift as it is a blessing. So don’t be discouraged. No matter its shortcomings, learn to use it to its full potential, and make use of it in ways that would have made both the Faerie and the Earth Mother proud!”

“Yes, I will!” Silque nodded, before sitting down again.

They finished the tea in silence. Once done, the cleric placed the thimble back on the table, grabbed her staff, and took flight once more.

“Thank you, for everything,” Silque said, looking back at the old hermit and making a small bow of gratitude.

“It was no problem,” he replied. “I couldn’t just let you be in your moment of distress.”

“There must be some way I can repay you,” she said.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to.”

“No, I insist,” Silque had a brief pensive look. “Oh, I know! You can have my old staff. It’s not like I can use it anymore or take it with me. Although, it was left all the way back at the altar.”

“It’s alright,” the old hermit chuckled. “I can always go there and retrieve it. If only because of the circumstances, then I gratefully accept.”

“Thank you,” the cleric happily said. “Now, I must be on my way.”

“Are you sure? You can stay here until at least tomorrow,” the old hermit offered. “To get more accustomed to your new form.”

Silque shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she replied. “I feel like I am ready enough to be back on the road. There will be time for me to become a better fairy as I continue my travels and help people.”

“Very well, as you wish,” the old hermit said. “Then I’ll accompany you to the entrance to see you off.”

With that, the two left the room and made their way back to the entrance hall.


I’ll have to see to having someone accompany me as an escort when I’m back traveling, just in case, the cleric thought on the way. Perhaps I can go see Sir Alm and Lady Celica and seek their aid. Even if it’s going to be a long journey to Zofia Castle, they are my best hope. Though they are sure going to be surprised when they see me in this state!

Imagining their likely shocked faces made her giggle.

Soon they were back at the entrance hall, from which they went to the very entrance of the temple. The old hermit extended a hand, open palm facing up, on which the cleric would then stand on.

“Well then, I bid you farewell, young lady,” the old hermit said, looking at her. “May you have success in your mission.”

“Thanks, I will,” Silque replied, facing him back. “Farewell to you too,” she finished with a bow.

“We may or may not see each other again,” the old hermit added. “In any case, I better soon start hearing stories about the fairy that flies all over Valentia and does good deeds for its people.”

“Hee hee, I’m sure you will!” Silque giggled.

The cleric then turned to face the valley that extended before her. The big vast world before her had just gotten much bigger; but she didn’t gaze at it with fear or doubt. Her task had just gotten harder, at least on the short term, but she wasn’t going to give up. With newfound determination and making the best of her current situation, she would continue to fulfill her duties for as long as she lived.

With that, she took flight. 

And that, as they say, is that. Now, for the author's notes:

Spoiler

- As you saw, my approach to the prompt was that in that while the affliction is weaker and handicapping in some areas, as well as permanent, it compensates in others. So it's not a complete loss. I went with not making it entirely a downer and more bittersweet, as it were. I do like bittersweet at times.
- I'm aware that the magic used in Valentia is the kind that needs no tome or staff to use. Yet, in both original and remake you have cases where tomes and staffs still show up anyway. Whether in-game, or in the artworks, and perhaps even in the manga and novelization they likely show up too. So I decided to keep that in.
- Titania is what the Exemplar overclass is called in Japan. If you know your Shakespeare, then you should know who that is. Between that and the in-game description of the Altar, it makes it obvious what the developers were going for. I simply took it to its logical conclusion. By the way, the same applies for some of the other overclasses, if you didn't know already. Like how the Rigain is Queen Medb, the Enchantress is sorceress Morgana (also known as Morgan le Fay), or the Guru is Wise King Solomon; to give some examples.
- My description of the overclass's footwear is pretty much a guess. Unlike most concept artworks, the Exemplar's doesn't break the outfit down so you can see how it's composed. So the only way to see the overclass's legs and feet is from in-game animations, which aren't well detailed. So... yeah, random guess.
- While not described in the story, Silque's new height is that of five inches and... a fraction. I simply reduced her height to one twelfth of its original. So feet become inches, and inches become, well, fraction of an inch. She doesn't have an official height, and I didn't opted to give her one for the story. Considering things, it's likely it is just a little over five feet. So there's that.
- One of my biggest concerns when writing this was making sure things flowed naturally. Since the story would involve lots of explaining, I felt it could end up being too info-dumpy. Well, you decide how much I succeeded, or not, in avoiding that.
- On that subject, in real life, Faerie and Fairy are simply the same word, pronounced the same, just the grammar changing over the years. For the story's setting they are two actual different words, so I added the "different stressed syllable" bit too to make them even more distinct, yet keep the fact they are still related.
- Random Legend of Zelda reference was random. Haha, sorry, couldn't resist. The scenario is basically a Fire Emblem version of "Link fights a ReDead", with the helper fairy pulling double duty as the bottled fairy without the bottle. The mention of warrior is just in the generic term, not a reference to the FE class. They aren't present in Valentia anyway.
- The mention of echoes and imprints is a nod to the phenomenon having happened in the Jugdral games (usage of the term 'echo' more to the fact that the game is Fire Emblem Echoes). With both Loptyr/Loptous and Forseti having left imprints of their wills in their respective tomes (intentional for the former, unintentional for the latter), which then manifest through the appropriate host. Since Jugdral is in the same world as Valentia and Archanea, I considered it consistent and possible for the story scenario. Though of course, I left it vague about if it is truly the case, as it's only conjecture from the character's part.
- Okay, this is getting too long as it is. I might've forgotten to explain some thing or two. Well, you're free to ask for anything that I may have missed or you need an explanation for.

Well, I hope you liked it. Suffice to say, just because I ended up participating in this round doesn't mean I am planning to join here full time. Maybe. I just felt to do this at least once for a change; and not make it for any of my previous intents of participating to end up being for nothing. Though we'll see, we'll see, what the future holds.

So, until next time.

Edited by Acacia Sgt

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16 hours ago, Shoblongoo said:




Had more time to put some polish on this one being stuck at home in quarantine. Reasonably happy with how it turned out.

TITLE:  "Life's Legacy"
WORDS: 1,626
FANDOM:  Fire Emblem Awakening
 

 

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"Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust. Yay, though I walk through the shadow of the Valley of Death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me."

The mortuary priests sung the old familiar funeral hymns. The liturgists burnt their incense and swung their censers. The congregants bowed their heads and offered their words of solace.

And Nowi watched wordlessly as the man who had been her husband was lowered into the ground.

“He was a good man” Father Brady, now an elder clergyman in the twilight of his years, offered feebly. He was one of the last of them; so few from the generation of heroes were left to pay their respects. Chrom and Sumia had passed. Frederick and Cordelia had passed. Maribelle and Ricken had passed. Sully and Stahl had passed, Lissa was an old crone, and Donnel a shriveled old man who walked with such a shake in his step he looked as though a light breeze might knock him over.

“It’s better this way.”  She spoke, not entirely cognizant of what she was saying. “He was—suffering.”

“Aye.” Brady leaned upon his cane, knowing well the truth of it.  Of late, his old bones had started to ache. “So go we all.”

Seventy-five years had passed since she had taken the man in the ground as her husband. To him; the joy of a lifetime. To her; a season’s fleeting.

"Hey now! Don't start cryin', Nowi! I ain't goin' nowhere. I guarantee it!" he had told her the night she accepted his ring. "I vow never to leave you—cross my heart! Look, Nowi! I promised, didn't I?"

And she had known it was a promise he could never keep. She had cried even then for knowing what was to come of it; the understanding that she had accepted the inevitability of this day the moment she committed to make her life with him.

At first the years hid the lie well enough.  

But then all-too-soon his hair grayed and his back hunched, and the strength that had once carried the weight of the world upon its shoulders could not lift him out of bed. And he had sobbed a sob that hurt her heart the first time she brought him a meal in their private chambers, because he couldn’t push his body to reach the kitchen. “I use to be able to swing a 20 lb. axe like it was made of paper!” he was inconsolable. “Now look at me. I CAN’T WALK!”

…No… she shook away the memory. She wouldn’t remember him like that. She owed him that much.

She would remember the headstrong, bullchested, force-of-nature of a man who lifted her up and swung her over his shoulders and full-sprinted about camp with her mounted atop him, while she tussled his hair. The man who could throw a hammer clear across a stable. The man who loved life and every second of it that he spent with her.

 Not—that. Not what he had become at the end.

The worst of it hadn’t been the physical decline. The worst of it hadn’t even been how it had broken his spirit; how he hated himself for becoming a burden.  

The worst of it had been knowing it was a pain that was his alone and that she could not lessen by baring with him.

…he passed his prime and grew shorter of breath and stiffer of limb by the day.

…he lost his vigor and then his mobility and then his continence and then his senses.

…he despaired with the despair of a bedridden man whose life had only ever been one of action and physicality, and who knew no other way to live.

And she could not offer him the comfort of taking that journey with him. That had somehow made it worse—his grim determination that it was not right for her to be by his side, wallowing in his morbidity. That in this way he had somehow wronged her. That every day she had sat tending to the needs of a decrepit invalid was a day she should have been enjoying her best years.

He had never forgiven himself for that.

“I hate it.” She told the only other mourner in attendance who could truly understand. “I don’t WANT to live for 10,000 years. I wanted to grow old with him.”

“You knew that was impossible.” Tiki counseled. “It never gets easier; witnessing the fate of their kind. But—you made it harder than it had to be.”

“I’d do it again.” Nowi affirmed, stubbornly. “Their lives are so short. But in that time they live so—intensely. Love so completely. Like every single moment counts.”

“For them it does.” Tiki did not doubt it.

“That’s what makes it so special. A human’s life in a human’s span.” She had lived it. It should have been a trivial thing, that passage of time, and yet the last 75 years had changed her more than her first 1,000. For the first time in her life: Nowi felt old.  “We can never live like that. Except with them—we can.”

“It is not in our stars to live their lives, anymore than it is in their stars to live ours.”  Here Tiki was unconvinced.  “A dragon’s lifetime is vast. Do not be so eager to live quickly.”

“Have you never loved them?” Nowi asked.

“Not as you have.” Tiki answered. “I have loved them. I have always loved them. But never have I taken one as a consort. Nor have I bore their children.”

“Why not?”

“…Because…” Tiki regarded Nah—head cast down, tears running down her face—furiously going about the task of shoveling dirt into her father’s grave, as though each mound full of earth tossed atop him were another praising verse for his eulogy. “Because of this very day.”

There was a moment of silence, and a wordless understanding between them.

“You are weary. Rest.” Tiki counseled further. “Awaken in another time and distance yourself from this moment. It will help.”   

“I will not.” Nowi refused.

“I see.” Tiki paused. “What then are your intentions?”

“…”

______________________________

(Many Years Later)

Mavis was, by all accounts, a complete dingus. At nineteen years of age the boy was the splitting figure of youthful male virility: bronzed of skin, blonde of hair, tall and well-muscled and bristling with a swagger that was often misplaced but never absent.

His praiseworthy characteristics ended there.

His first day at the Academy of Ylisstol he had challenged his professor to a drinking contest. Thereafter he had flunked out in record time, and taken up service in the Ylissean Guard...

…Where his first day deployed in the field, he forgot his axe and was seen trying to subdue an armed bandit by wrestling him to the ground…   

It was shortly after this incident—oddly enough, as those who told the tale would have it—that Mavis was summoned to appear at The Temple of the Heavenly One.

“Shame our House again, and it will be the last thing you do.” The boy’s father scolded him as they ascended the Temple Mount. “I cannot fathom what wild lies you told to receive the honor. Nor can I imagine that you understand the weight of it. But the Heavenly One herself has deemed you an Aspirant of the Hero’s Title.”

“The aspir what-now?” Mavis was confused.

“Oh for the love of—if you
impress her…” his father spat the word as though the very notion of it offended his sensibilities, “…then you will be granted the honorific of our blessed ancestor’s namesake. And you will perform deeds worthy of it.”

“Oh. That.” the youth wasn’t impressed. “Mavis the Vaike sounds kinda lame, don’t ya think? How about Mavis the Rad.” He flexed and did a pelvic thrust. “Ohhhhhh. I know. Mavis the Swag.”


This conduct earned him a stern reprimand and a smack upside the hide.

“It has been three generations since an aspirant was summoned to appear before the Heavenly One! Longer still since one was deemed worthy of the sacred title! You will speak with reverence of such things in this place, or HOLD YOUR FOOL TONGUE!”  The Father demanded, as they crested the summit of the temple grounds.

The day was hot, and the journey up the mountain a long and arduous one. Which Mavis’s father understood to mean that he was to wash himself and anoint himself with oils before entering the Temple and don fresh robes—so as not to offend the blessed ancestors with the stench of his exertions.

…and which Mavis of course understood to mean that he was to take his shirt off…

“This is—an honor of a lifetime.” The Father bowed deeply before the Temple Caretaker. “Please accept these humble offerings of…”

“WOW, NICE PLACE YA GOT HERE!!!” Mavis blustered in, loud and oblivious and bare-chested. “OH—SWEET!!! YOU GUYS HAVE A POOL!?”

“MAVIS!!! YOU HORRID CHILD!!!” The Father damn-near died from embarrassment.

“Its quite alright,” The Caretaker did not seem to mind at all. “Ahhhhhh. I see why mother has taken a shine to this one.”

“Why hellllllllllo there, little lady,” Mavis took notice of her. “Heh. You’re kind of a cutie.”

“MAVIS!!!” The Father was mortified.

“I told you. Its fine.” The Caretaker dismissed him, and took Mavis by the hand. “Please. Come with me. Mother will be so very happy to meet you.”

“So like—what’s the deal, lady? You and your mum live here; is she the Heavenly One everyone keeps going on about?” Mavis asked.

“Yes. Something like that,” the Caretaker smiled mischievously.

“What’s she want with me?”

“You—remind her of someone.” The Caretaker told him. “And Please. Call me
Nah.”

 

 

4 hours ago, Acacia Sgt said:

Aha! You may have thought I had given up on this! Or simply forgot I ever expressed interested in participating. Which is fine if you forgot, it's okay. Whatever the case, in the words of Anavel Gato at Solomon: I have returned! Though before getting to my entry, some pre-notes:

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- This is an idea I've long had planned to turn into a fic. In fact, my original plan was, and still is, to do it for something else which I won't name for reasons. In any case, I saw I could use it for this prompt as well and so I thought, "Well, why not?".
- I have seen that talk in the previous pages about word count length preferences and... well, suffice to say, this might not endear those preferring a short story on that department. As I felt I had to go for the word count that I did to properly convey my idea.
- Why I decided to finally do this now? Well... I don't really have much of an answer to that. Blame the Covid-19 or something...

Without further ado, here's the story. Enjoy.

Title: A Transfigurative Overclass
Word Count: 6350
Fandom: Fire Emblem - Shadows of Valentia

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Scattered across the land of Valentia lie various ancient temples. Usually found in remote or secluded areas, it is said they were built and dedicated to ancient gods that inhabited the land long ago. Far long ago, before the dragon siblings Duma and Mila became the new object of worship for the people of Valentia. It was here where those old gods resided, served and attended by their followers. In recent times, these temples lie now abandoned and in various states of ruin. It is rumored that while the old gods were driven out of the world, essences of their power remained behind, on the very temples that were used to worship them. In addition, just like how the gods would bless their followers with their power, these left-behind essences would do the same. As it is, when it comes to stories like that, it wasn’t long before they would spread across the land. People claiming to have visited the altars, received the boons contained within. Overall, many dismissed them as old wives’ tales; but others would take heed of them and travel to find these temples. Among them, was a young lady named Silque.

A cleric from Novis Priory, Silque had spent the last few weeks traveling across Valentia. The continent had just recently emerged out of a state of turmoil. War between the nations of Zofia and Rigel, which took years to run its course. Though it had finally ended, it had taken its toll on a big number of people, leaving them suffering. As a follower of the teachings of Mila, she took it as her duty to help them. No matter where in Valentia they were, she would heal their wounds, soothe their pain, lessen their hardship. It was during her travels when she first heard about the temples. There was one that caught her attention, said to house a boon that benefitted women of the cloth. An idea began to form in the mind of the young cleric. If she could obtain such a blessing, it would be of big help in her current task.

It was then that after a few days of travel, she had reached her destination: A small secluded valley nested in the Rigelian mountains. Right at the very end of it, was one of the temples. As the stories said, the building had seen better days. Though still looked far from being in any structural danger. With some trepidation, the young cleric ventured inside. To her surprise, she quickly found the place wasn’t abandoned. She was greeted by an old hermit, seemingly a caretaker of the place. Hair already gray and covered in a brown cloak, clutching a wooden staff in hand, he was all too happy to receive her, hear her out, and speak about the place.


“Yes, I can see,” he had said. “You were right to come. This temple is also called the Altar of the Faerie.”

“Fairy?” Silque repeated.

“No, not fairy,” the old hermit shook his head. “Faerie. Stress the last syllable, not the first. There is a difference. In any case, the Faerie, also known as Titania, ruled the daughters of the gods with purifying light and healing power. Only those who walk the path of the saint may receive her boon.

After indicating her where to find the altar, they parted ways. After walking through a long corridor, she opened the doors that lead to the room with the altar. It was circular in shape, as well as of considerable height, extending both up and down, giving it the form of a tower. It was seemingly composed of three floors. Each had an alcove encompassing almost the entire circumference of the room. Lit torches adorned the walls of all three alcoves, while pillars were placed at the border of the alcoves and the shaft. The edges were walled off, reaching about waist high, as a way to avoid someone falling. The floor on the middle level was a straight pathway from the door to a center circle platform. It had a couple steps leading up to it, flanked by two small pillars housing a torch each at the top. Unlike the alcoves, the pathway and platform didn’t have its edges closed off, though they were both wide enough the fear of falling was negligible. Though if one were to look down the shaft, they’d find the bottom was filled with water, of undiscernible depth, leveled to the floor of the bottom alcove. The ceiling wasn’t completely closed off. A circle hole was present, letting the sunlight in as a pillar of light that shone at the very center of the platform. There, under the light, was the statue of a woman.

She stood on a square pedestal, a seemingly neutral expression on her face. She had hair that reached her upper back. She was clad in a dress, though it was hard to discern where it began, for the statue lacked any color or markings to easily tell. What was clear, however, was that the skirt portion reached down to the pedestal itself. It had a slit to the side, one end slightly lifted by one of her arms, exposing the woman’s legs. The woman had her face facing forward, towards the entrance, though most of the rest of the body was instead turned to the side. Combined with the position of the arm and skirt, it seemed the statue was depicting her in the middle of a twirl. The most eye-catching detail, however, were the butterfly-like wings on her back.


That must be Lady Titania, Silque realized. I see now why she was called a fairy. Well, faerie.

She began to approach the statue, walking down the pathway and up the stairs. She then stopped before the statue. She looked up, staring at it, puzzled.

“Now what do I do?” The cleric wondered out loud. “Do I just pray? Make an offering?”

Past experience told her that perhaps just praying would be enough. After all, that’s what worked when receiving power-granting boons from the Earth Mother’s statues. Besides, she hadn’t brought anything with her that could be served as an offering, so that was out as an option anyway. Her action decided, she first placed her staff to rest atop the pedestal, just before the statue. Taking a step back, Silque then closed her eyes, clasping her hands while bringing them just below her head, leaning slightly forward the latter. It didn’t take long before she knew it had worked. Though unseen by her, she was enveloped in a pillar of magic light, while she herself began to feel as power began to course into her.

However, she soon took note that something was different. A sudden sensation coursed all across her body. It felt as if a Warp spell had been cast on her; but not quite. Once it ended, she took note something had changed. First, her hands were no longer clasped, or even close to her head. Her arms were back at her sides, except that her right one was positioned in a way as if she was once more holding her staff. In fact, she was indeed holding what felt to be like a staff. Second, she felt a strange sensation at her upper back, as if something had attached itself to her body. Two somethings, actually. Lastly, she felt all around her that her clothing had changed. Eyes still closed, she didn’t dare open them due to the light enveloping her. However, it would soon subside; which it did. Knowing it was safe to do so now, she opened her eyes.

As soon as she did, she was greeted by the sight of a stone wall. This confused her, for she knew there was no such thing before. She then looked up. Her confusion would turn into surprise from what se saw. Rising above her was none other than the statue of Titania, now a towering figure seemingly as tall as the temple was. She then looked all around her. The platform had seemingly expanded as well, for the floor now went far beyond from what it used to be. The pillars, alcoves, the ceiling, even the entrance; they all looked much more distant. Simply put, it seems everything but her had gotten bigger.


But how? Silque could only wonder. Praying at the statue couldn’t have done this, as it should only affect me. Wait… It slowly dawned on her. It was me. Whatever happened, it was to me! But then, if everything else looks bigger, then it must be that…

She then gasped, finally realizing.

“I shrunk!” She cried out, in a voice that had now risen several octaves in pitch.

Panic quickly overwhelmed the cleric. She barely registered dropping the thing she held in her hand, as well as the sound it made as it hit the floor. She fearfully looked around again at the now enlarged room. At simple glance, it was hard to tell just how small she was. Likely only a few inches of height she had left. One thing was clear, however: There were many things that could now pose a danger or a struggle to her, and others that just became more so; vulnerable and handicapped at such a smaller size. She quickly looked back at the statue, the culprit of her current predicament. Panic-driven and not thinking straight, she took a few steps back, as if staying near it would bring forth further misfortune. She was quick to snap out of it when she stepped on her own clothing, which made her stumble. A quick response avoided an outright fall, though it also served to snap the girl out of her fearful trance. As well as make her remember a few things.


Oh, right, Silque thought, as she looked down at her herself. The statue did more than just shrunk me.

The first thing she took note was her clothing had been almost completely replaced. Gone was her habit, replaced with an equally floor-length white gown of elaborate design. Her hands were now covered in likewise short white gloves. From the front she could see there were two attached capes behind her. Green in color, they were positioned closer to her sides, leaving her back exposed. Speaking of exposure, she could feel the gown left her upper back bare. The ensemble also came with a lot of gold, ranging from trimmings and patterns on the clothing, to all kinds of accessories. The latter included shoulder pads, oddly enough, as well a lot of roses. Her headdress was gone, leaving her head exposed. It had been replaced with a circlet, with another gold rose attached to it on the side. From underneath the gown, she felt she now had longer socks, while her shoes were likewise replaced. Only her undergarments seemed to have remained the same, though this was something she couldn’t really tell for sure without actually removing the gown.

It was there, as she was checking herself out, when Silque finally took notice of the weird feeling at her back. She tried to glance back to see what was it. To her surprise, she was greeted by a semi-translucent figure, round in shape, glowing in a white light with a slight light blue hue over her shoulder. Looking over on the other side, she saw a similar one.

“Huh?”

As the cleric tried to get a better look, she was suddenly startled when not only did she saw the figures twitch, but was also able to feel them moving; with an accompanying tingle coming from her upper back. As they moved, she was able to see them better.


They’re wings! Silque realized.

Indeed, she now had wings sprouting from her back.


Is this why this gown has an exposed back? She pondered.

The wings themselves, between their glow and transparency, they almost seemed made from magic itself. At the least, she was certainly sensing magic from them. Tentatively, Silque approached a hand towards one of them, and lightly poked it with a finger. It twitched again, and once again she felt the movement, as well as feeling the sensation coursing across it all the way to her back. That confirmed it: They were not just solid and attached to her body, they were seemingly part of it too, magic constructs or not. Looking at them closely, she saw they were shaped like a butterfly’s. The cleric looked back up at the statue of Titania.


Just like hers, she noticed. Then, the blessing was to… turn me into a fairy?

She went deep in thought. For how sensible it sounded, there was still something off. Mainly, she had heard nothing of the sort of this happening. The stories and rumors never spoke of a drastic transformation as part of the blessing. Not on this or at any other temple. Which meant she wasn’t going to find answers from them. Her face then turned into one of realization.

“The old caretaker!” She squeaked out. “He must know!”

Silque quickly turned, in the direction of the entrance. A sight which quickly dismayed her.


It’s so farther away now, she thought, the preceding hallway likewise has become much longer for me. It’s going to take too long to walk all the way back. The stairs will also be a problem.

The only saving grace was that she had left the doors of the room open. Otherwise, she’d be left trapped in. Since the only other exit was the hole in the ceiling. An observation that made her eyes widened in realization.


That’s right, I have wings now! She glanced back at them. It could be faster if I fly. Although… she frowned. How do I… do that?

Unfortunately, this was something Silque would have to figure on her own. Just the idea alone of having gained two extra appendages was so foreign to her. That they were wings and they may be actually capable of flight was just outright bizarre. Then again, it was proper to what she was now, no? In any case, this was something she would had to do, lest she remained so restricted in mobility.


May the spirit of the Earth Mother guide me through this ordeal, Silque inwardly prayed.

As it turned out, it started simple. Simply moving the wings proved to be no different as moving any of her limbs. Though she had to specifically concentrate on them at first. The speed at which they flapped was also something she had to control. After a few minutes she started to get the hang of it, even managing to move the wings without having to concentrate on them. Afterwards, however, came the hard part. Unsure on how to begin, she simply began to flap her wings.


That should be enough force, Silque gauged, looking at the wings before facing back front. Then I just… jump?

So she did… and immediately regretted it. While the small hop she made proved to do the trick, creating a starting force that the wings then took and began to elevate her further, she soon found herself losing her balance. She started to move erratically, her body twisting around, her limbs flailing.

“Aaaaaah!” She cried out in panic.

As she watched around her, she saw the capes of her outfit swaying wildly. Her eyes then widened in fear. She feared that if this kept going, the capes would disrupt the flapping of the wings, sending her crashing onto the floor. However, to her surprise, once they were about to collide she felt the wings actually phasing through the capes, as if they weren’t there.


Is it a property of them because they’re made of magic? She wondered.

In any case, despite this less than graceful start, she was soon able to steady herself. Returning to an upright position, and her wings flapping at a steady pace to remain hovering in place. She took this moment to calm herself down, steadying her breath.


Now, to actually fly… she thought next.

Fortunately, this proved to be not as hard as taking off. She found she simply had to lean her body, shifting first her upper torso, in the direction she wanted to go. Forward, turning, sideways, even backwards. To change her elevation, she only had to flap her wings either faster or slower, then return to the steady ‘remain hovering’ pace. The more she practiced, the more confident she felt.

“This should be enough,” Silque told herself as she came to a halt.

She didn’t felt quite ready yet for more complex maneuvers. Simply being able to just move was enough for her for now. To return to where the old hermit was. She had barely propelled herself forward in the direction of the entrance, when she made an abrupt stop.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She said out loud.

The cleric turned her body around, so she once more faced the statue of Titania. Looking down at the floor before it, Silque quickly spotted the item she had received from the blessing, which she had dropped from the shock of finding herself tiny. She fluttered down towards the object in question, keeping herself steady for the landing. While still far from perfect, she was able to return to the floor without stumbling in the process. She then walked the remaining distance, and picked the object up. Her previous intuition had been right. It was indeed a staff. Unlike her actual staff, which was still resting on the pedestal, this one was more ornate-looking. Its design was the same, however, with the only exception that it lacked the orb held by the ends of the horseshoe-like design at the top found in other staffs. Instead, the main shaft of the staff, usually ending at the base of the horseshoe, continued past it instead; topping off with a briolette cut crystal, pointed end upwards, like a spearhead.

At this Silque looked up at the pedestal.


Too bad I can’t take my staff too, she thought.

It couldn’t be helped. It was now too big for her to carry, let alone use. This new staff back in her hand would have to do for now. With nothing else left for her to do here, she took flight once more, and proceeded to fly towards the entrance. Passing through the open doorway, she was now in the adjoining hallway that led back to the entrance hall. Like the altar room, the hallway seemed more imposing at her smaller size. While flying was certainly faster than walking, it was still going to take her longer than if she had been at her original height. On the flip side, the stairs that led up to the doorway at the other end of the corridor that would’ve been a problem for her to climb up had she remained grounded, she simply passed them overhead with ease.

The cleric soon made it back to the entrance hall. A big room, though not as big as the altar’s. She quickly spotted the old hermit near the temple entrance, who seemed to be in the process of relighting one of the many torches placed atop small pillars lined by the walls. Silque then flew towards him, increasing her altitude so she was leveled to his face, in order to better get his attention. As she got close, she started to get nervous. She knew the man had seemed friendly enough; but now that he was basically a giant to her now, she felt unnerve. Yet she knew she had to, in order to let him know of her plight.


“Um, e-excuse me, sir!” She called out, once she had gotten near.

The old hermit, who was about done, stood back up from his leaning position.

“Hm? Ah, back already? Though you don’t need to speak from afar,” he started to turn around, “young… lady?”

The sight of the now inches tall winged girl before him made his eyes widen in surprise.

“Goodness gracious!” He exclaimed, almost dropping the flint he was carrying. “What happened to you, child?”

“Um, well, when I received the blessing,” Silque explained, “this happened!”

“The blessing? Hmm…” the old hermit frowned with a pensive look. Could it be…?

“I see,” he whispered, before softening his gaze at the fretting cleric. “Well, my dear, I may know what exactly happened to you.”

“R-really!?” The cleric clasped her hands, hopeful.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It will take some time to explain, so let’s discuss this over tea. I went to prepare some, intending to offer you some once you had returned; but it seems you may need it regardless. Follow me.”

With this, the old hermit began to walk. Silque waited a little before flying after him. She was led to a door on one of the side walls, which opened up into a hallway. This one was much smaller than the one leading to the altar, with more doors on both sides. The old hermit stopped before one of them, and opened it.

“Please, come inside,” he said.

Silque promptly did. The room that greeted her on the side looked like a bedroom, clearly the one the old hermit was occupying. It didn’t have much. Other than a bed, it had a bookshelf, a table and two chairs, and a few clothes hanging from hooks on the wall.

“Wait here, I’ll be back with the tea,” the old hermit said before disappearing into the corridor.

He had left the door open, something the cleric felt grateful for. The room had no windows, so otherwise she’d have been left trapped in. It was a fear she was starting to develop, all things considered. Not knowing for how long he’d be gone, she fluttered down to land on the table. So she waited, alone with her thoughts.


He said he might know why this happened, Silque thought, looking at herself again; but will he also know how to reverse this? She began to fret again. What if he doesn’t; and I stay this way for the rest of my life?

“N-no! Don’t be thinking that,” she scolded herself. “I’m sure he will know of a way.”

Shortly after, the old hermit was back. He carried a small tray which contained a kettle and two cups.

“Sorry if I took long,” he said, placing the tray on the table. “With your, uh, current state, I had to look for something more appropriate to serve you the tea in.”

He then withdrew a hand into his cloak, before extracting from within a small object, which he then kept on an open palm for her to see. On closer inspection, Silque saw it was a thimble. At first, she gained a look of understanding, which was then replaced with one of confusion.

“Then why the second cup?” She asked.

“It’s for you to sit down on,” the old hermit replied.

With his other hand, he grabbed one of the cups, then placed it back down near the cleric upside down.

“Oh… thank you,” Silque replied.

Though grateful for the gesture, she couldn’t help but feel slightly disheartened at the sight of the cup. Since between it and having to drink from a thimble, it was further reminder of her current predicament. In any case, while still shorter than her, the cup was too high to just sit down. A minor issue at best, that she solved by simply lifting off from the table then flutter down to land by the edge of the flat underside.

“My, that was some very precise flying,” the old hermit commented, as he was doing his best to pour tea from the kettle into the thimble without spilling. “Despite likely not being long since you got them, you seemed quite well accustomed to those wings already.”

“Well, I did practice a little before coming here,” Silque replied, as she placed her new staff down next to her on the cup.

“I see. In any case, it’s still remarkable to have learn so quickly,” the old hermit placed the kettle back on the tray before bringing down the thimble. “Here’s your tea.”

Silque took the thimble with both her hands. Relatively speaking, it was still a little oversized for a makeshift cup, as well as heavier due to being made of metal; but it was close enough to serve its makeshift purpose just fine.

“Well then,” the old hermit said next, as he sat down and began to pour tea on the remaining cup. “As you may be well aware, you’ve been transformed into a fairy.”

The cleric nodded, as she then took a sip from her tea. It was sweet in flavor, that of chamomile, with a small hint of citrus.


It’s quite good, she thought.

“So tell me,” the old hermit continued. “What do you know about fairies?”

Silque took a moment to think, time in which the old hermit drank from his cup in turn.

“Fairies are small human-like creatures, all female, with great magical power,” Silque recited. “It is said they were commonplace in ancient times; but nowadays it is rare for even rumors of sighting one to appear.”

“That is correct,” the old hermit nodded. “Now answer this: Do you know how or why they came to be?”

Once more Silque took her time, this time simply sitting still instead. This time around, she didn’t have an answer to give. However, from what she had witnessed and learned so far, she still had something to say:

“Was it due to the Faerie?”

“Why, yes, you catch on quick,” he replied with a chuckle. “Indeed, it was Lady Titania who was behind the existence of the fairies. Creatures born of magic, blessed with her power. She treated them with the care no different a mother would to her daughters. That is why they are named after her.” He drank from his cup once before. “Due to their small stature, they weren’t able to do much on their own. However, thanks to their magical prowess, they could act as support for the Faerie’s followers.”

In her mind, Silque immediately visualized a warrior battling a revenant, sword and shield in hand. She had also pictured him clad in a green tunic. All this while a fairy would hover overhead, staying out of danger but remaining close. She then imagined the revenant landing a hit, greatly injuring the warrior and sending him tumbling down into the ground. The fairy, however, would then cast a Recover spell; and the warrior would then quickly get back on his feet and continue the battle.

“However, they weren’t just created,” the cleric would be snapped back to attention as the old hermit continued. “The Faerie was also capable of turning humans into fairies.”

“R-really?” Silque asked in amazement.

“Yes,” the old hermit replied; “it wasn’t something she did often; but old scrolls stored here tell it did happen, when someone was deemed worthy of it. Therefore, that’s what happened to you.”

“Can her altar really do that too?” Silque asked.

The old hermit frowned.

“To be honest, I had no idea it could,” he replied, surprising the cleric. “I am as surprised as you are. Others have come before you, seeking her blessing. Of those that could, this didn’t happen. It’s nothing my predecessors and I have seen before.”

“Then… why this happened now?” Silque said. “Why me?”

“I can only guess,” the old hermit said, as he grabbed the kettle to refill his cup. “Maybe it was a rare occurrence that was due to happen sooner or later. Or perhaps… it was the will of the Faerie.”

“The will of the Faerie?” Silque repeated.

“Yes, her will,” the old hermit nodded. “Many of us caretakers of the temples have questioned at least once how can they grant the blessings they do, if the ancient gods are no longer in this world. I’ve seen it in the journals they’ve left behind. Some think the gods never left, that they just hid their identities, or went to live in remote corners; and so they’re still connected to the essences they left behind. Others, that they became the very essences themselves. A few, myself included, instead believe that they left behind more than just an essence of their power.”

“You mean like a part of their very self?” Silque questioned.

“In a way, yes and no,” the old hermit answered. “Not an actual part. More like a ghost, an echo, an imprint of their will. Able to act on its own, yet considers itself a part of them. Whatever the case, it’s very possible that, one way or another, it was the Faerie herself that was behind your transformation,” he smiled. “In that case, you are very fortunate, to be truly blessed to be considered worthy to become a true daughter of Titania.”

Silque was left stunned, as she took all that in. A small sense of dread creeping up on her.

“And… is it… reversible…?” She almost didn’t dare to ask, knowing the likely answer already.

“I’m afraid not,” the old hermit shook his head. “There’s no record of such a thing happening, let alone being possible. Though why would you consider throwing the blessing away?”

Hearing those words, the cleric couldn’t take it anymore.

“B-because…” Silque started, before suddenly taking flight once more, dropping the now empty thimble onto the table. “Look at me!” She cried out as she stopped to hover not far from the old hermit’s face, as tears began to swell in her eyes. “How am I going to live like this!? Too small to do much of anything! Maybe the actual fairies wouldn’t think of it, as they were born that way; but why would a human accept to go through with it? What did they gain in becoming a fairy?” She then covered her face with her hands as she began to cry.

The old hermit looked at her with pity. He wasn’t sure what to do to calm her down, so he let her be as she vented out, crying in mid-air. This went on for a while, and eventually the cleric would calm down, the crying subsiding. She then uncovered her face.

“Feeling better?” He asked her.

“Y-yes,” the cleric replied with a sniff.

The old hermit grabbed the thimble and proceeded to refill it, before wordlessly offering it to the cleric.

“Th-thank you,” Silque replied, taking the thimble again.

The old hermit sighed as he watched her fly back to the upside down cup, before sitting back on it and take a sip from the thimble, gazing down at the table.

“I can understand your frustration,” he began. “It wasn’t something you knew could happen, or had the chance to decline; and yes, that form is very limiting in the physical sense. However, being a fairy does have its merits, and those are why many clerics before you sought to get transformed into such a form.”

“Like what?” Silque asked, gaze still down.

“To start with, have you noticed anything about your magic after you transformed?”

“Huh?” At this the cleric finally looked up back to him. “My magic?”

She thought back to the time she prayed before the statue.


Did anything else happened? Silque wondered as she tried to remember. Wait… yes, there was. I did felt power coursing into me. I was so caught up on this fairy transformation I had forgotten.

Now that she began to pay attention, she did felt her magic was stronger. Not by much, but there was noticeable enough difference.

“Yes, I do feel it somewhat stronger,” she replied with a nod.

“What the fairies lack in physical prowess, they make up for it in magic,” the old hermit explained. “Many consider that merely receiving the blessing of the Faerie make you an exemplar in her fields of expertise. That of light and healing magic, or White Magic as it is known nowadays,” he paused to take a sip from his cup. “However, it is the fairies who are the true exemplars. It may not look like that to you, since you just received the blessing; but that is normal with fairies that are former humans. They need to train and develop it, unlike the fairy-born who are adept since birth. It might not completely make up for the physically shortcomings; but at least you’re not just simply loosing from the transformation.”


I suppose he has a point, Silque conceded.

“However, do not think it is just for the power. It was something offered to them; and if they were willing to go through with it, it was because of their devotion to Titania. They who served her loyally and worked hard for it.”

Silque took in his words, getting pensive about them.

“Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Huh?” She was caught unaware by the question.

“Tell me, whose teachings do you follow more? The War Father’s or the Earth Mother’s?”

“The Earth Mother’s,” the cleric answered without hesitation.

“Well, that should be easier,” the old hermit muttered. “Anyway, would you not have done something similar for the Earth Mother, back when she was among us? If she were to have offered you a blessing that carried some kind of negative consequence, but you could put its benefits to good use in her name; would you have done it?”

Silque looked down, deep in thought.


Putting it that way… I see, I understand now.

“Yes, I would have been willing to, if it would serve the Earth Mother and the people of Valentia,” she replied in a determined tone, once more taking flight, though this time she kept the thimble in her hands. “That’s why I came here in the first place. As I considered the Faerie’s blessing would help me further on my current task: That of helping the people in the aftermath of the war.” Her expression then faltered a bit. “Despite that…”

“Now now,” the old hermit interrupted, signaling with a hand for her to stop. “Don’t be thinking back on it being a mistake. Like I said, this was considered a grand honor who any woman who served the Faerie. It’s something to be proud of. Besides, as I mentioned before, this had to have happened for a reason. Despite others coming before you, it was you alone who received the higher blessing. Perhaps it was granted to you on purpose. Be it her actual person or an echo, she considered you worthy of it. It is as much a gift as it is a blessing. So don’t be discouraged. No matter its shortcomings, learn to use it to its full potential, and make use of it in ways that would have made both the Faerie and the Earth Mother proud!”

“Yes, I will!” Silque nodded, before sitting down again.

They finished the tea in silence. Once done, the cleric placed the thimble back on the table, grabbed her staff, and took flight once more.

“Thank you, for everything,” Silque said, looking back at the old hermit and making a small bow of gratitude.

“It was no problem,” he replied. “I couldn’t just let you be in your moment of distress.”

“There must be some way I can repay you,” she said.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to.”

“No, I insist,” Silque had a brief pensive look. “Oh, I know! You can have my old staff. It’s not like I can use it anymore or take it with me. Although, it was left all the way back at the altar.”

“It’s alright,” the old hermit chuckled. “I can always go there and retrieve it. If only because of the circumstances, then I gratefully accept.”

“Thank you,” the cleric happily said. “Now, I must be on my way.”

“Are you sure? You can stay here until at least tomorrow,” the old hermit offered. “To get more accustomed to your new form.”

Silque shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she replied. “I feel like I am ready enough to be back on the road. There will be time for me to become a better fairy as I continue my travels and help people.”

“Very well, as you wish,” the old hermit said. “Then I’ll accompany you to the entrance to see you off.”

With that, the two left the room and made their way back to the entrance hall.


I’ll have to see to having someone accompany me as an escort when I’m back traveling, just in case, the cleric thought on the way. Perhaps I can go see Sir Alm and Lady Celica and seek their aid. Even if it’s going to be a long journey to Zofia Castle, they are my best hope. Though they are sure going to be surprised when they see me in this state!

Imagining their likely shocked faces made her giggle.

Soon they were back at the entrance hall, from which they went to the very entrance of the temple. The old hermit extended a hand, open palm facing up, on which the cleric would then stand on.

“Well then, I bid you farewell, young lady,” the old hermit said, looking at her. “May you have success in your mission.”

“Thanks, I will,” Silque replied, facing him back. “Farewell to you too,” she finished with a bow.

“We may or may not see each other again,” the old hermit added. “In any case, I better soon start hearing stories about the fairy that flies all over Valentia and does good deeds for its people.”

“Hee hee, I’m sure you will!” Silque giggled.

The cleric then turned to face the valley that extended before her. The big vast world before her had just gotten much bigger; but she didn’t gaze at it with fear or doubt. Her task had just gotten harder, at least on the short term, but she wasn’t going to give up. With newfound determination and making the best of her current situation, she would continue to fulfill her duties for as long as she lived.

With that, she took flight. 

And that, as they say, is that. Now, for the author's notes:

  Reveal hidden contents

- As you saw, my approach to the prompt was that in that while the affliction is weaker and handicapping in some areas, as well as permanent, it compensates in others. So it's not a complete loss. I went with not making it entirely a downer and more bittersweet, as it were. I do like bittersweet at times.
- I'm aware that the magic used in Valentia is the kind that needs no tome or staff to use. Yet, in both original and remake you have cases where tomes and staffs still show up anyway. Whether in-game, or in the artworks, and perhaps even in the manga and novelization they likely show up too. So I decided to keep that in.
- Titania is what the Exemplar overclass is called in Japan. If you know your Shakespeare, then you should know who that is. Between that and the in-game description of the Altar, it makes it obvious what the developers were going for. I simply took it to its logical conclusion. By the way, the same applies for some of the other overclasses, if you didn't know already. Like how the Rigain is Queen Medb, the Enchantress is sorceress Morgana (also known as Morgan le Fay), or the Guru is Wise King Solomon; to give some examples.
- My description of the overclass's footwear is pretty much a guess. Unlike most concept artworks, the Exemplar's doesn't break the outfit down so you can see how it's composed. So the only way to see the overclass's legs and feet is from in-game animations, which aren't well detailed. So... yeah, random guess.
- While not described in the story, Silque's new height is that of five inches and... a fraction. I simply reduced her height to one twelfth of its original. So feet become inches, and inches become, well, fraction of an inch. She doesn't have an official height, and I didn't opted to give her one for the story. Considering things, it's likely it is just a little over five feet. So there's that.
- One of my biggest concerns when writing this was making sure things flowed naturally. Since the story would involve lots of explaining, I felt it could end up being too info-dumpy. Well, you decide how much I succeeded, or not, in avoiding that.
- On that subject, in real life, Faerie and Fairy are simply the same word, pronounced the same, just the grammar changing over the years. For the story's setting they are two actual different words, so I added the "different stressed syllable" bit too to make them even more distinct, yet keep the fact they are still related.
- Random Legend of Zelda reference was random. Haha, sorry, couldn't resist. The scenario is basically a Fire Emblem version of "Link fights a ReDead", with the helper fairy pulling double duty as the bottled fairy without the bottle. The mention of warrior is just in the generic term, not a reference to the FE class. They aren't present in Valentia anyway.
- The mention of echoes and imprints is a nod to the phenomenon having happened in the Jugdral games (usage of the term 'echo' more to the fact that the game is Fire Emblem Echoes). With both Loptyr/Loptous and Forseti having left imprints of their wills in their respective tomes (intentional for the former, unintentional for the latter), which then manifest through the appropriate host. Since Jugdral is in the same world as Valentia and Archanea, I considered it consistent and possible for the story scenario. Though of course, I left it vague about if it is truly the case, as it's only conjecture from the character's part.
- Okay, this is getting too long as it is. I might've forgotten to explain some thing or two. Well, you're free to ask for anything that I may have missed or you need an explanation for.

Well, I hope you liked it. Suffice to say, just because I ended up participating in this round doesn't mean I am planning to join here full time. Maybe. I just felt to do this at least once for a change; and not make it for any of my previous intents of participating to end up being for nothing. Though we'll see, we'll see, what the future holds.

So, until next time.

Spoiler

Two curious pieces. I found them enjoyable, if perhaps unusual. Nowi in particular was hard for me to imagine as being realistic - I mean, marriage changes people quite a lot, but it's hard for me to imagine Nowi as anything but Nowi. That said, the idea of wanting to honor her husband is definitely something I can see being an eventual thing.
For Acacia, as I mentioned long pieces are kind of annoying for me, and this piece certainly feels like part of a greater whole - in particular anyone who hasn't played SoV is left assuming quite a few things. However, it doesn't feel quite as long as some longer pieces I've read on here, which is a good thing. I definitely didn't expect this, but it's not too bad - I can tell there are plenty of folks on DA in particular who would enjoy this for multiple reasons.

Off-Topic, apparently I'm having my life shaken up quite a bit lately - I pulled Legendary Julia last time she came around and only today got around to leveling her. When she attacks there's like a wind effect blowing her clothes, but if you look it looks like she's shaking her hips for you.
...Julia now makes me very uncomfortable.

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Just now, Shoblongoo said:

@SoulWeaver People say “it’s impossible to write Nowi seriously.” I say challenge accepted.

You did do a good job at that! I'm not sure how it fits my prompt, unless the dragon sleep is the weakened form.

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4 minutes ago, Dragoncat said:

You did do a good job at that! I'm not sure how it fits my prompt, unless the dragon sleep is the weakened form.

Vaike was the one whose weakened form the entry was talking about. Shoblongoo took it in a unique direction by having the POV be not the individual actually affected. You can also look at it as the lack of one's spouse being the weakened state, or even a dragon's life compared to a human's.

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Just now, SoulWeaver said:

Vaike was the one whose weakened form the entry was talking about. Shoblongoo took it in a unique direction by having the POV be not the individual actually affected. You can also look at it as the lack of one's spouse being the weakened state, or even a dragon's life compared to a human's.

OH! Yeah I guess it could be either or all of these things.

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...Mine is nothing at all like what these are, which concerns me. I hope my brain didn't pull a WAAAAAAAHHHHHLUIGIIIII moment, because I do often see things in a different way. And frequently the wrong way.

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22 minutes ago, SoulWeaver said:

You can also look at it as the lack of one's spouse being the weakened state, or even a dragon's life compared to a human's.

Nothing that fancy—it’s just Vaike 

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9 hours ago, SoulWeaver said:

in particular anyone who hasn't played SoV is left assuming quite a few things.

I can tell there are plenty of folks on DA in particular who would enjoy this for multiple reasons.

I would think that's just the thing with fanfiction in general. It's either "hope the reader already knows enough info to not get too lost or that they can just look things up on their own". Trying to explain in the fic itself helps to a point but then it just feels like it's simply padding the word count. Likely doesn't apply here; but in general one already knows about the thing they're looking up fanfic from, no?

Ahaha, I totally get that. I know how popular things like TF can get with some people.

Edited by Acacia Sgt

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There are still 10 days right? Maybe I'll take a crack at it. This prompt should be interesting, and like everyone else, I suddenly have a lot of free time...

Edited by Solvaij

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7 hours ago, Acacia Sgt said:

I would think that's just the thing with fanfiction in general. It's either "hope the reader already knows enough info to not get too lost or that they can just look things up on their own". Trying to explain in the fic itself helps to a point but then it just feels like it's simply padding the word count. Likely doesn't apply here; but in general one already knows about the thing they're looking up fanfic from, no?

And then there's me, who shares fanfic with people who have never played the source game because they've shown an interest in my writing in general. Remember the info dump in The Harvest Trick? Yeah, that's why it was there lol.

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8 hours ago, Solvaij said:

There are still 10 days right? Maybe I'll take a crack at it. This prompt should be interesting, and like everyone else, I suddenly have a lot of free time...

Woohoo! New person! Thanks for joining.

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2 hours ago, Dragoncat said:

And then there's me, who shares fanfic with people who have never played the source game because they've shown an interest in my writing in general. Remember the info dump in The Harvest Trick? Yeah, that's why it was there lol.

Well, I don't deny I've done a bit of both. Though then again, I don't have much actual deeds for either. My only other completed fanfic is uploaded in a site dedicated to the fandom it is about, so I went there without making much explaining outside what is my own changes to canon. I have other stuff elsewhere where I do bother to have more explaining since it's much likelier they can be found by people not familiar with the source material. So for here, being mainly a Fire Emblem dedicated site, I went with the former. That said, if I had written about something else, then yeah, I would've went more with the latter.

Edited by Acacia Sgt

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Well after a sudden burst of inspiration today, I was able to get this done though I'm not quite sure how to feel about it.

The Screaming Pain

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Word Count: 1,382

Spoiler

Dimitri clutched his head as a screaming pain rang loud through his brain. The various scars along his battered armor ached in a silent scream as rivers of blood dripped onto the floor. A scramble of voices echoed all around his head and blended over and over again.

 

“You must kill her!” His father’s voice screamed out to him.

 

“You have to avenge us!” Glenn’s voice then spoke up.

 

Avengeuskillhermakethatwenchpaydimitriyouretheonlyonewhocandoit!!

 

More and more voices then joined in as their scorched and mutilated faces were forced into the forefront of his mind. Dimitri placed his hand on a nearby tree as every word ripped at his heart. The old scars that made their home there flared to life as his chest pounded with agonizing pain. The grip on his hair tightened. The sound of splintering seemed to squeak into the air.

 

I-It hurts…

 

S-Somebody...help…”

 

Father! Mother where are you?!”

 

More and more memories of that day began to claw their way to the surface. It was like it happened yesterday. A sea of flames, ash, smoke, and corpses flooded through the city. The symphony of agonizing screams of pain that rung in his ears. The smell of scorched flesh and rotting corpses that filled his nose. All of it was still so clear and standing atop that mountain of chaos was a single silhouette of a single woman in red and black armor.

 

“I’ll kill her” Dimitri muttered to himself, “I’LL KILL THAT DAMN WENCH WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!” He screamed out as the tree beside him snapped like a twig and fell to the ground.

 

“Did you hear something?” He heard a new voice speak up nearby.

 

“Yeah it sounded like it came from over there”

 

Dimitri looked up to see several imperial soldiers come into view from the forest ahead. He narrowed his eyes. Rats, nothing but rats, that work for that woman. A maniacal grin then formed on his lips.

 

“Like moths to a flame”, he said to himself before charging headlong into the sea of soldiers.

 

“Who is this guy?”

 

“He’s charging right at us!”

 

“Is he out of his mind?!”

 

“What can one guy do against all of us?!” one of the soldiers said as he thrust his lance forward and pierced Dimitri’s shoulder.

 

These rats must pay for their sins!

 

However, Dimitri remained unfazed and simply reached for the man’s head. With one hard squeeze, a loud scream hit the air as a fountain of blood sprayed from his head.

 

“Albert!” One of the other soldiers cried out and turned to Dimitri, “Bastard!!”

 

Two soldiers then attacked him at once. Dimitri jumped and kicked them to the ground. He tossed the bloody and mangled corpse in his blood-soaked hand to the side and pulled the lance from his shoulder. More soldiers began to charge. Dimitri twirled the silver lance in his grip and threw it forward. A geyser of blood shot into the air as it impaled another soldier clean in the face. He grabbed another soldier’s sword and with a kick tore away his arm.

 

“DIE!!!” three soldiers all shouted out as they charged Dimitri’s blindspot.

 

Dimitri merely grunted in pain as three spears drilled through his flesh. A splash of blood spilled into the air.

 

“D-Did we get him?” One of the soldiers asked.

 

He received his answer when several more pained screams shot through the air.

 

“Is this really all you rats can do?” Dimitri said as he dropped yet another headless and bloodied corpse to the ground.

 

“What is this guy?”

 

“I-Is he even human?”

 

“He’s a monster!”

 

“FALL BACK!! WE MUST REGROUP!!!” their commander called out.

 

As if you can escape the punishment for your sins that easily!!” Dimitri cried out as he pulled out the last spear and gave chase.

 

A symphony of agony induced screams rang out across the forest. One after another, The imperial soldiers dropped like flies into the thick river of blood below. A soldier screeched out in visceral pain as Dimitri ripped apart his torso. Another didn’t even get the chance as he vomited blood from his crushed throat. Twisted necks, dismemberment, ripping out organs, and suffocation were only the beginning as Dimitri showed no mercy in these acts. He didn’t let up for even a second. He couldn’t let these rats live with how much blood was on their hands. He would show them the same mercy they showed to all the innocence they’ve slaughtered. The villages they’ve raised and the people whose lives they’ve ruined. They were nothing more than beasts not unlike himself, and beasts have no right calling themselves human.

 

No matter how much pain he was in. No matter how many wounds covered his body. No matter how much his head rang loud with that screaming pain. This was nothing compared to the pain they’ve caused to others or the pain he felt that day. He would just get back up and drag his feet forward. The only thing that mattered to him now was the tributes he had to pay to the dead with that woman’s head. No matter what he had to endure or how alone he was, this pain would protect him.

 

Is that really what you want?” He heard a familiar female voice speak up.

 

Dimitri momentarily stopped his rampage. He dropped the corpse in his blood-drenched grip and clutched his head. The pain in his head only intensified as all the voices grew far more chaotic and frantic.

 

Is that really what you want?” The female voice asked again.

 

BE QUIET!! I have to do this! It is my duty as the sole surviving member of the tragedy!

 

You look so sad…” The voice spoke again, Is this truly what you need to do? Is this truly what the dead would want?

 

SILENCE!!!” Dimitri screamed out, “What do you know, HUH?!? You have no right to criticize my actions!!

 

I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself anymore

 

ENOUGH!!! I’VE HEARD ENOUGH!!!

 

With that, the voice faded away with the others. Deep ragged breaths pumped themselves from Dimitri’s chest as he stood there in an ocean of blood. He pulled his hands from his face and looked around at the carnage site. Severed limbs, heads, organs, spines, bones, and all manner of mangled corpses seem to float along the crimson sea of despair around him.

 

He took a moment to look down at his hands all drenched in blood. He really was a beast. A demon who murders for the sake of pleasure. Yes, one day he too would have to pay for his sins.

 

“DIE MONSTER!!” He heard a soldier cry out.

 

He turned his head as a lance was shoved into his right eye. He grabbed the lance’s shaft to keep it from going deeper as he stumbled back. He looked over at the soldier in front of him. His body froze at the sight of his icy cold almost inhuman glare. For a moment, he saw a reflection of himself glaring right back at him.

 

“JUST DIE ALREADY YOU DAMN BASTARD!!!” The soldier cried out as he desperately tried to shove the lance deeper into Dimitri’s skull. “YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY COMRADES!!!”

 

Dimitri tightened his grip on the lance’s handle and in no time at all broke it in two. The soldier fell to his rear shaking uncontrollably. Everything was so dark at that moment. It was hard to see but one thing remained clear. He looked down into the soldier’s face and through the blurry haze existed eyes full of fear and regret. And for a moment he saw Edelgard’s body flashed over top of the soldier. He put his hand to his face and let out a dark chuckle which soon turned into a bone-chilling laugh.

 

 “YOU SEE THIS EDELGARD!!! DO YOU SEE WHERE YOUR SINS HAVE BROUGHT YOU?!?! YOU CONTINUE TO LIVE ON THIS PILE OF CORPSES AND SUFFERING!!! WELL NO LONGER!! THE DEAD MUST HAVE THEIR TRIBUTE!!!” He pinned the soldier down with his foot and grabbed his head, “and I will see it paid...” He said in a cold deathlike tone as he mercilessly ripped the man’s head from his shoulders.

 

What was it that I truly lost that day?

Edit: okay there we go. Also, anyone who catches the song references gets a cookie

Edited by Ottservia

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Hm...I don't know that I like this one. It's interesting, but not really to my liking, though I can't quite place why.

In the meantime...

Notes:

Spoiler

Basically I took the opening of Metroid Fusion and turned it into a written piece. So sue me. Overall it feels too dialogue-heavy, especially given it's based on Metroid of all franchises, but it is what it is. I also think I ended up with a more Other M feel to it, which in terms of Metroid fans is a bad thing.
For those who don't know, in Metroid people referred to as 'Bounty Hunters' are actually more like Mercenaries than the typical idea of Bounty Hunters.

 

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3 hours ago, Ottservia said:

Well after a sudden burst of inspiration today, I was able to get this done though I'm not quite sure how to feel about it.

The Screaming Pain

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Word Count: 1,382

  Hide contents

Dimitri clutched his head as a screaming pain rang loud through his brain. The various scars along his battered armor ached in a silent scream as rivers of blood dripped onto the floor. A scramble of voices echoed all around his head and blended over and over again.

 

“You must kill her!” His father’s voice screamed out to him.

 

“You have to avenge us!” Glenn’s voice then spoke up.

 

Avengeuskillhermakethatwenchpaydimitriyouretheonlyonewhocandoit!!

 

More and more voices then joined in as their scorched and mutilated faces were forced into the forefront of his mind. Dimitri placed his hand on a nearby tree as every word ripped at his heart. The old scars that made their home there flared to life as his chest pounded with agonizing pain. The grip on his hair tightened. The sound of splintering seemed to squeak into the air.

 

I-It hurts…

 

S-Somebody...help…”

 

Father! Mother where are you?!”

 

More and more memories of that day began to claw their way to the surface. It was like it happened yesterday. A sea of flames, ash, smoke, and corpses flooded through the city. The symphony of agonizing screams of pain that rung in his ears. The smell of scorched flesh and rotting corpses that filled his nose. All of it was still so clear and standing atop that mountain of chaos was a single silhouette of a single woman in red and black armor.

 

“I’ll kill her” Dimitri muttered to himself, “I’LL KILL THAT DAMN WENCH WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!” He screamed out as the tree beside him snapped like a twig and fell to the ground.

 

“Did you hear something?” He heard a new voice speak up nearby.

 

“Yeah it sounded like it came from over there”

 

Dimitri looked up to see several imperial soldiers come into view from the forest ahead. He narrowed his eyes. Rats, nothing but rats, that work for that woman. A maniacal grin then formed on his lips.

 

“Like moths to a flame”, he said to himself before charging headlong into the sea of soldiers.

 

“Who is this guy?”

 

“He’s charging right at us!”

 

“Is he out of his mind?!”

 

“What can one guy do against all of us?!” one of the soldiers said as he thrust his lance forward and pierced Dimitri’s shoulder.

 

These rats must pay for their sins!

 

However, Dimitri remained unfazed and simply reached for the man’s head. With one hard squeeze, a loud scream hit the air as a fountain of blood sprayed from his head.

 

“Albert!” One of the other soldiers cried out and turned to Dimitri, “Bastard!!”

 

Two soldiers then attacked him at once. Dimitri jumped and kicked them to the ground. He tossed the bloody and mangled corpse in his blood-soaked hand to the side and pulled the lance from his shoulder. More soldiers began to charge. Dimitri twirled the silver lance in his grip and threw it forward. A geyser of blood shot into the air as it impaled another soldier clean in the face. He grabbed another soldier’s sword and with a kick tore away his arm.

 

“DIE!!!” three soldiers all shouted out as they charged Dimitri’s blindspot.

 

Dimitri merely grunted in pain as three spears drilled through his flesh. A splash of blood spilled into the air.

 

“D-Did we get him?” One of the soldiers asked.

 

He received his answer when several more pained screams shot through the air.

 

“Is this really all you rats can do?” Dimitri said as he dropped yet another headless and bloodied corpse to the ground.

 

“What is this guy?”

 

“I-Is he even human?”

 

“He’s a monster!”

 

“FALL BACK!! WE MUST REGROUP!!!” their commander called out.

 

As if you can escape the punishment for your sins that easily!!” Dimitri cried out as he pulled out the last spear and gave chase.

 

A symphony of agony induced screams rang out across the forest. One after another, The imperial soldiers dropped like flies into the thick river of blood below. A soldier screeched out in visceral pain as Dimitri ripped apart his torso. Another didn’t even get the chance as he vomited blood from his crushed throat. Twisted necks, dismemberment, ripping out organs, and suffocation were only the beginning as Dimitri showed no mercy in these acts. He didn’t let up for even a second. He couldn’t let these rats live with how much blood was on their hands. He would show them the same mercy they showed to all the innocence they’ve slaughtered. The villages they’ve raised and the people whose lives they’ve ruined. They were nothing more than beasts not unlike himself, and beasts have no right calling themselves human.

 

No matter how much pain he was in. No matter how many wounds covered his body. No matter how much his head rang loud with that screaming pain. This was nothing compared to the pain they’ve caused to others or the pain he felt that day. He would just get back up and drag his feet forward. The only thing that mattered to him now was the tributes he had to pay to the dead with that woman’s head. No matter what he had to endure or how alone he was, this pain would protect him.

 

Is that really what you want?” He heard a familiar female voice speak up.

 

Dimitri momentarily stopped his rampage. He dropped the corpse in his blood-drenched grip and clutched his head. The pain in his head only intensified as all the voices grew far more chaotic and frantic.

 

Is that really what you want?” The female voice asked again.

 

BE QUIET!! I have to do this! It is my duty as the sole surviving member of the tragedy!

 

You look so sad…” The voice spoke again, Is this truly what you need to do? Is this truly what the dead would want?

 

SILENCE!!!” Dimitri screamed out, “What do you know, HUH?!? You have no right to criticize my actions!!

 

I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself anymore

 

ENOUGH!!! I’VE HEARD ENOUGH!!!

 

With that, the voice faded away with the others. Deep ragged breaths pumped themselves from Dimitri’s chest as he stood there in an ocean of blood. He pulled his hands from his face and looked around at the carnage site. Severed limbs, heads, organs, spines, bones, and all manner of mangled corpses seem to float along the crimson sea of despair around him.

 

He took a moment to look down at his hands all drenched in blood. He really was a beast. A demon who murders for the sake of pleasure. Yes, one day he too would have to pay for his sins.

 

“DIE MONSTER!!” He heard a soldier cry out.

 

He turned his head as a lance was shoved into his right eye. He grabbed the lance’s shaft to keep it from going deeper as he stumbled back. He looked over at the soldier in front of him. His body froze at the sight of his icy cold almost inhuman glare. For a moment, he saw a reflection of himself glaring right back at him.

 

“JUST DIE ALREADY YOU DAMN BASTARD!!!” The soldier cried out as he desperately tried to shove the lance deeper into Dimitri’s skull. “YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY COMRADES!!!”

 

Dimitri tightened his grip on the lance’s handle and in no time at all broke it in two. The soldier fell to his rear shaking uncontrollably. Everything was so dark at that moment. It was hard to see but one thing remained clear. He looked down into the soldier’s face and through the blurry haze existed eyes full of fear and regret. And for a moment he saw Edelgard’s body flashed over top of the soldier. He put his hand to his face and let out a dark chuckle which soon turned into a bone-chilling laugh.

 

 “YOU SEE THIS EDELGARD!!! DO YOU SEE WHERE YOUR SINS HAVE BROUGHT YOU?!?! YOU CONTINUE TO LIVE ON THIS PILE OF CORPSES AND SUFFERING!!! WELL NO LONGER!! THE DEAD MUST HAVE THEIR TRIBUTE!!!” He pinned the soldier down with his foot and grabbed his head, “and I will see it paid...” He said in a cold deathlike tone as he mercilessly ripped the man’s head from his shoulders.

 

What was it that I truly lost that day?

Edit: okay there we go. Also, anyone who catches the song references gets a cookie

I feel like this is where going out of your way to not using profanity makes for awkward writing, because sometimes when you’re trying to convey intensity there’s really no good substitute for the obvious explative. “I’ll kill that damn wench with my bare hands!” is so clunky. Just say “bitch”.

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2 minutes ago, Shoblongoo said:

I feel like this is where going out of your way to not using profanity makes for awkward writing, because sometimes when you’re trying to convey intensity there’s really no good substitute for the obvious explative. “I’ll kill that damn wench with my bare hands!” is so clunky. Just say “bitch”.

I mean I can certainly change it but honestly I feel like that line in general could use a rewrite. Maybe when I’m not so tired atm. Also I only used “wench” simply because that’s the term the game would use. If it was my own original thing trust me I would as many explitives as I could

Edited by Ottservia

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Personally, I think it's fine that you used 'wench'. Doesn't feel clunky at all to me. Considering it's a bit of an archaic word now, I feel it fits with the setting. Specially since it could mean everything from just 'woman', to 'servant', to, well, 'prostitute'. It was all in the context, I suppose. My point is that it can work as intense.

Edited by Acacia Sgt

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It feels like a strange thing for Dimitri to say about Edelgard because it’s a perjorative that focuses on her femininity rather than her being a terrible person. (i.e. “Monster”. “Madwoman”. “Inhuman beast”). It’s almost like hearing him call her a whore. I dunno—feels weird.

Edited by Shoblongoo

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