The Bull's Heart [PK]

[DizzyGrey 1229]

 

Blood welled within Anruthion’s throat. He’d never liked the taste of it. It woke him up, and yet smothered him in its cloying, metallic manner. Pain, ran through him, yet it was… distant. He supposed that was what it was like to die. To have everything simply… shut down, the agony distant as his mind made him accept what was coming. Much like blood, that too was cloying. It soothed him, it told him everything was going to be alright, and it was time to simply rest…

 

Yet it was the screaming of the young woman he had been teaching that brought him forward into the world once more. The woman he had brought along on patrol- endangered, when that Werebeast came barrelling out to attack her. It wasn’t even a fully conscious action, as Anruthion gripped the spike of his broken morningstar, the bloodied and ruined man stumbling to his feet one last time.

 

The beast turned, expecting its fallen prey. It met only the broken and determined form of a man, desperate to save the child. He swung. The spike gleamed in the early morning light, aimed right for the beast’s ear-

 

And as darkness crowded his vision, and his body fell, he’d never truly know if he saved her or not.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

[!]

The following letters would be found amongst the discarded remnants of Anruthion Vourkehardt’s pack, the man slain amongst the woods of Azuras.

 

To my family: 

Spoiler

If you’re reading this, I’m dead. Probably not too much of a surprise, but perhaps you’re at least a little shocked that it wasn’t Emmerich. I also imagine it was violent. I’m a little too young as of writing this to die of old age, after all! Fingers crossed they left my face intact. I’d like to be burned, if possible. Like that grandfather you all keep saying I remind you of. 

 

Anyways.

 

I’m not too sure what to write right now. The concept of not being around is so far away. But if I were gone, and I wanted to say something to all of you, it’d be this:

I love you.

 

I know we’ve had our differences in the past. All of us, either with each other or as groups. I know we quarrel frequently and I know we don’t always get along. But I do know that, at the end of the day, we have each other’s back. That wherever I’ve died, you did all you could to make sure it didn’t happen. 

 

You’re all so strong, so hard headed and proud. Just… If I’m gone, and you’re all still reading this, then I’m afraid I’ll have to be a little selfish and ask if you could all open up. Just a little bit. I know it’s scary, and I know you might think you are, but the only times I’ve ever truly been unhappy is when we fought.

 

To Choumi: @RingAroundRosey

Spoiler

Hey, little lily. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. There are a lot of things I wish I could have said to you that I never really had the stomach for. Things I was worried would push you away if I was too blunt about my opinion of your family’s rules, or if I was ever too forward and broke one of those many rules.

 

But I have to say, if I’m gone and we’re not together? I think I’ll regret that. So I’ll put it here.

 

I love you. You know that. And I think your family isn’t worth your time. You’re so incredibly precious to me, and I know I am to you, in your own gentle manner. I wish you would leave it all behind, their controlling manner, the way they interject and decide for you. I don’t like it at all. I wish you’d have accepted my countless offers to come with me, but the woman I love never would, and never did.

 

Be sad, but afterward, be happy, alright? There’s a wide, wide world out there, filled with charming strangers that offer you a hand when you're hurt at the gates of a foreign city, or who bake two very silly cakes in an effort to earn your mother’s approval. Go find those people- Because I know that I wasn’t so special as to be the only one of myself, and I wish most of all things in the world for you to live a long and happy life.

 

To Elwine: @RatFromTheTrash

Spoiler

Was there ever a time we got along, outside of some third party behaving like an ass? I don’t think so. But I feel perhaps that’s as good a reason to love someone as any other, and especially your twin. 

 

There’s not much for me to say here, admittedly. I suppose, if this will is recent, it means you’ll have won our little race, eh? I do expect you to grab my ashes after you’ve cremated me and put me in the place of honour for your knighting, just to be clear. I didn’t put all that effort in just to not be present at something I have no doubt would be a blend of pride and soul shattering devastation that I never pulled it off.

 

You’ve always been the quiet type, I know, but since I’m dead I get to be very selfish and ask that you reach out a little more. Go to the family, not just Castamir. Talk to them. It doesn’t even need to be about anything bad, or anything good- Just to spend time.

 

That moment we hugged around the campfire- Perhaps you saw it as a joke, but to me it was one of the happiest of my life. I love you, and to be close again was a dream come true.

 

Fight well, big sister. I’ll see you in the skies.

 

To Father: @sujilicious

Spoiler

You remember when I was little, and you let me ride on your shoulders, swinging that stick around in Caladras’ courtyard? I still do. It’s one of my fondest memories, and in a way not even horseback has made me feel as powerful as I did that day. Nor did that day in the forest make me feel so weak, and alone.

 

I don’t really know if we were ever close, father. You’re harder, in a way, to get a read on than Emmerich. Which I believe is something I inherited from you. Sometimes a smile is a better mask than impassivity, although I don’t remember too many from you, my memory tainted as it was by that time in the woods.

 

But I still love you. How could I not? You’re still my father, and you cared for me. Protected me, taught me. Sure, we ended up very different people- I’m certain I don’t exactly fit your description of templar, despite my own wish to be one- but I know that at the end of the day you hold the only thing I find truly has value: Kindness. So, after you’re finished ripping apart whatever got me in a righteous fury-

Mind showing it a little more to the others? 

 

To Emberlyn: @drywall

Spoiler

Hey you. 

 

You’re already the closest of the siblings that I have, even if you might not think it. I worry about you, a lot, and I hope you know I’m not as stupid as I might come across as.

 

This one’s shorter than the others will be, because God knows we’ve had a thousand conversations up and down. There is little I can say here that I haven’t told you before, but what little there is are words I was always afraid would push you away:

 

I love you, and get your head out of your ass. 

 

And stop pacting with strange entities, because then I won’t get to pick you up in the seven skies!

 

To Emmerich: @TomFunks

Spoiler

I always admired you. I hope, however I died, I died well. Something you’d be proud of, you know? My big brother, the Sword of Owyn, the Grand Equestrian, and a thousand other titles. Always wanted to be like you. Not be you, I’m far too charming for that- Or I suppose I was- but… What little brother wouldn’t look up to their big brother, even before he was chosen of the church, the greatest warrior of our age.

 

You were always honest, and yet always fair with me. It was something I desperately needed many times, and you always came through. Granted, I feel as if sometimes you become too focused on the ideal of yourself. That you were to be some order fulfilling automata, or that the expectation of your reputation weighed upon you more than doing the right thing.

 

If you didn’t die gloriously next to me, would you mind relaxing a little? Crack more jokes, say no more. Don’t follow the expectation of others, but your heart instead. God created all of this- It’s no coincidence that one feels bad when they do bad, and feels good when they do good.

 

I love you.

 

Listen to what’s inside.

 

Auris: @Tainga

Spoiler

I’m sorry for not forgiving you over the slap, and your behaviour around my whole ordeal with Medliel. I know it’s probably a little immature of me, to refuse to let go of such a thing. I just hope you know how much it hurt. When everything was wrong with the family, I came to you. You were my rock, and my support. You supported me even though I’d tricked you, and when you found out, you struck me. I was wrong for what I did, and yet I feel it created a divide that neither of us truly tried to bridge.

 

I don’t know if I ever can forgive you for your behaviour regarding Azruphel’s own. It was childish, it was biased, and it was the complete opposite expectation I held for the woman that introduced a child by the name of Erwin to the concept of emotional intelligence. I don’t know why you changed. Maybe you never did, and I simply grew able to recognise it as I got older.

 

But I still love you. You were my rock for hard times as a child, and if it weren’t for our talks I don’t think I’d have become the man I am today. Someone I’m proud of. Someone I’m happy to be.

 

Guess I’ll see you around, Auntie.

 

Medliel: @jihyunah

Spoiler

Guess it’s the end of our journey. I’m sure whoever gave you this has told you what’s happened. I don’t really know what to say here, so I’m sorry that it’s so short. I guess it’s just a little bit of advice:

Treat yourself kindly, and be brave. You’re a clever, determined woman. I’ve always admired that. But don’t be afraid to allow others in to be just as kind, just as brave. You deserve the world, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you.

 

Castamir: @The Vulgate Cycle

Spoiler

You treat her right. Treat her as if she were the only woman in the world. As if she were worth more than all of it. I want never for sadness to grace her with you around, or I myself will come back into the world to get you.

 

Edited October 19, 2025 by DizzyGrey

[RatFromTheTrash 531]

 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ঌ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

 

“ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀᴍ ʏᴏᴜ. ”

 

 

 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ঌ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

 

Two candles, twin flames burnt bright. 

Side by side, they could have braved every fight.

 

Time rolled by, each now big and bold,

though grown apart, their bond would hold.

 

Through the best and the worst,

each high and each low.

Two candles, twin flames burnt bright.

 

But death is stark

and a merciless thing. 

Devoid of warmth,

it takes too soon.

 

Two candles; now one,

left afraid and alone.

 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ঌ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

 

[sujilicious 173]

There ran a number of patterns within the Vourkehardt tribe.

 

Viago had observed as much when starting his own family; echoes of his childhood surfacing in the bonds and rivalries between his children. Though Baldric was only able to hold Emmerich, Viago liked to think that his father would have cherished all of his grandchildren. Certainly, Erwin bore the strongest resemblance to the late founder, alike in spirit as much in form. 

 

And though Viago had spent his life striving to walk in his father's footsteps, he never wished to inherit that tremendous sorrow, the burden of laying a son to rest, as Baldric once had. 

 

He had always found processing emotions rather difficult. It helped, at times, to dissect and pick them apart —if only to trace cause and effect— and perhaps a solution lay hidden in between the seams. It was to this end that he found himself sequestered between the pews of Alduun's grand temple, praying in between reflections and seeking clarity in holy silence. 

 

Three memories pressed most heavily upon him. The first of Erwin's childhood, when he could do no wrong in his son's eyes and the younger Vourkehardt had wanted nothing more than to be like his father. Viago mourned the hours he failed to spend with him, the lost joy of watching Erwin grow and relishing those fleeting years.

The second memory came from a later time, that great divide that grew between them and born of Viago's ignorance and emotional restraint. The single conversation that acted as the catalyst to their estrangement would haunt him until his final days, even if the rift had eventually mended.

And the last memory, the final time he had seen his son. It was a mundane expedition, the sole purpose being to explore the new lands and seeing what Azuras had to offer, yet Viago now thought bitterly of how little of it Erwin had truly lived to see. Their last discussion seemed an ironic jest, a final twist of the knife in a salted wound. Truly, what makes a soul worthy of a blessing from the Gods? Was it the trophies they carved from the beasts they felled? Was it how many titles they held and the weight they carried? Or, as Erwin had said, was character the measure of all things —enough to take comfort in a heart that was pure?

 

And in between these three memories that cycled endlessly within the High Justiciar's mind, there existed nothing but an all-consuming anguish, a grief that shook him to the bone and always lingered. It was a terrible feeling. At times he could not move, and at others, it was as if he could not breathe. Death had stolen the air out of his lungs, leaving behind a permanent gray veil through which he now viewed the world.

 

And in the few moments where this paralyzing sorrow would numb to a dull ache, he found himself thinking of Erwin still. He had been just shy of Knighthood, still a far cry from his childhood dream of receiving Malchediael's flame, but Viago knew that this meant he would never see him again, even once they both passed. They were fated to differing afterlives. In these thoughts, an unforgiving resentment took root —spindly, persistent, and growing in the shadowed corners of his mind.

 

Still, there was work to be done beyond the grief. A wolf awaited the hunt, and its head would hang upon his wall.

 

The Templar pressed his palms together, reciting his late son's favoured litany. He let the ritual bridge the space between memory, sorrow, and duty.

 

I am a man,

Prone to weakness,

But I am a warrior of God,

Where weakness is death,

I wish to crush my weakness,

With the weight of my pride.

 

Amen. 

[TomFunks 756]

 

─── ✦ ───

 

Valanór felt entirely unlike himself. Never had carnage coaxed from him such unease, so heart-mangling that he could not center on courage. His plates rattled in rhythm with his heart, irregular and shaken, quick-steps attempting to flee before he was caught with bile at his tongue.

 

CRACK!

 

Ahead, the silhouette of the shackled Vallagne, lambasted by cannonfire and the shouting of command. The vanguard of the siege were caught in the storm of thralls, overcome.

 

As he was to bark out his reinforcement of the spearhead, his eyes caught Erwin in their periphery. His brother, rather than he, would make good on this opportunity. His own was a hunger they shared, the kind that could never satiate.

 

Valanór had nothing more to prove and sought instead to measure the might of his kin. His sibling accepted the charge without fear, a flash of a grin caught as lightning illuminated their position. Within moments he plunged himself as a blade into that miasma of battle and manifested in others the spirit of courage, even if he lacked the blessing himself.

 

WHACK!

 

Valanór was buried against freedom by the pressure of his ambition, even as he found himself capable of surviving with half-packed lungs. It was Erwin, however, who seemed to notice so often.

 

Even in their youth, when they could both share in the benefits of a noble progeny - when it would have been more comfortable to tend to his own pursuit - he had a disturbing knack for piercing insight.

 

The Sword had always kept his shield raised in tandem, in stance to deflect that which may expose him. And yet it were the gentle, if blunt, words of his brother that pushed him to a newer sort of courage. To him, he confided first of his weakness.

 

His hand, unclasped from his gauntlet, extended before him. It shook, unsteady. A curse that he had only discovered a year ago, yet a worsening malediction that promised he would never be the best of himself.

 

Erwin tore away those fears with kindness, with reassurance. His spirit was raised, a heart lightened. There was hope, and there was worth beyond his skill. He tried to remember this, even when it was difficult to.

 

THWACK!

 

His final memory. A terrible, gray tempest had devoured the color of Alduun that eve. Rainfall poured upon the faded cobblestones of the military district, concealing to others the sound of pious punishment.

 

Emmerich flayed his brother five times. Each strike spilling splatters of crimson around his form, dyeing the colorless puddles with his ichor. The order was received, the penance was delivered. Even as unsettled as he was to harm his own family, Emmerich had always held malice for the sinner.

 

As the last strike coiled, he determined that he would never wish to lecture his brother again. Silver-flames enveloped the flay, fury striking his brother to the ground as final reprimand. It was far more than had been requested, but he believed it would satisfy his brother’s need for lessons hard-learned.

 

SNAP.

 

In that moment, beyond a grimace, Emmerich did not regret that impact. If he had known what he knew now, the thought of committing such an act would ruin him.

 

He stood, imbalanced, over the viscera of Erwin. His palm, having escaped his gauntlet, spilled blood to join him in the soil so he were not entirely alone.

 

He swore an oath, then, above all others.

 

“You shall never be forgotten.”

 

─── ✦ ───

 

. . .The stranger had his eyes, he noticed, upon their approach. With crossed arms did a pondering hum warble out from the thin line of his lips. How could they have been so similar?
 

Finally, the fabric that cloaked his sight was lifted, a simple nod imparted to the Vourkehardt.

“They were right, little man; I think I would’ve liked you.”

 

A grin. An embrace.

 

“Come, we’ll watch over them together, now. The hard work’s done.”

─── ✦ ───

[Tainga 521]

Athaenis–no.
Auris.

When had she begun to refer to herself as Athaenis? It had always been Auris. Auris to her family, Auris to herself. A name tethered to everything she had been, and perhaps everything she still hoped to be.

Athae–
Auris.

Her day had started like any other, a sequence of motions learned so thoroughly that her body knew the rhythm before her mind had caught up. Down the steps of Ardrossil she went, the familiar grind of boots on stone echoing behind her, and into the capital. Idunia now. No longer Númendil. It was a change that brushed against the edges of memory, making old things feel foreign and new things feel sharp. 

The capital thrummed with movement, citizens and visitors threading through the streets. Auris moved among them, keys in hand, unlocking doors, offering guidance, answering questions she had answered a thousand times before. Each task was a note in symphony she had learned to play without thinking, each act a small resistance against chaos. 

Her grand-nephew's confession in the Church waited and she would attend, as duty demanded. And yet the day blurred. One moment she was watching candlelight flicker across stone and face, the next she was beneath the chocolate tree in Angrenost, then Petra, then back to the capital. A haze, unbroken. 

Work Wilts Weakness.

Ardrossil welcomed her back like a tired friend. There, the day shifted. Horses waited. Family had gathered. The laughter rose like smoke, tangled and uncontained, a song of small triumphs and mild frustrations: getting lost in unfamiliar paths, teasing one another, feeling the pulse of a living bond. Auris smiled–fond and warm–at the simple joy of it. These were the echo of her parents, of siblings lost to time. And here, gathered around her, the living claimed that legacy. It was worth it. Good. 

Was.

The day's fragile perfection broke outside the gate. She stood beside Emmerich, each holding stalks of wheat in their palms. Then a movement, a figure on horseback. Uneven, trembling, cutting through the quiet. 

Shaken.
Broken. 

A teenager rode up. Auris' eyes foll on the weapon trembling in her hands. A Morningstar streaked in crimson. She froze–not in thought, but in recognition. The world contracted around her, the suns warmth dulled to ash. 

And then the words came.
Two syllables.
Simple. Haunting. 

"It's Anruthion..."

The wheat fell from her hands. She ran. Boots pounding on the stone, breath torn and ragged, mind alight with a torrent she barely managed to corral. Elwine. Castamir. Rally them. The keep was alive with the quiet hum of routine, and yet it now felt alien, alien and urgent. 

Her thoughts ran a deadly tally, each name a weight she carried without pause. Which family member had died last? How long ago? Anneliese? No–that was long past. Alwyn? Perhaps. Each death was overlapping, a relentless tide she could never hold back. Erwin–if he were gone, he would be the nineteenth. Nineteen. Nineteen Vourkehardts cremated. Nineteen deaths, and she had been present for all. 

She did not know if he was dead, or merely broken. She assumed the worst. It was habit, a protection of the mind so used to death. He wouldn't be the last. Not for her. But for those of the newer generation? The grief would break them. Anger, regret, failure–it came predictably, crushing the chest until blood seemed inevitable. Repetitive. Endless. 

The keep stirred. They mounted horses, fast and precise, armor clinking. Auris did not hesitate, did not flinch. They had ridden out to a forest, the trail was unmistakable. Blood dark and heavy, leading her onward. She was the first to dismount, following without thought. 

And as she walked, time slowed. Each footfall sounding like a drumbeat echoing in her ears. Breath rattled from her chest, bones uncertain beneath her skin. And her mind–oh her mind–fled to the past. 

A boy on his father's shoulders. Raven-black hair. Emerald eyes. A bulls heart. She felt him in the marrow of her memory, felt the joy, the innocence, the confidence she had helped fostered. A game of tag, laughter exploding. A dozen children at the chocolate tree, all shouting, all alive. He had surrounded himself and she had been proud. 

Step. A hoof crushed the underbrush.
Step. A memory cut through her consciousness. 

The countless talks along the steps of Angrenost, building his mind. She had guided him, insisted he was brilliant, that the world would see it one day. He had doubted himself, never her. She had made certain he believed. 

Step. The forest echoed the weight of fear.
Step. The past erupted into pain. 

Then came the strain of change. Headlocks of misjudgment, miscommunication, anger where there had once been clarity. A rope being slowly sawed through, the threads unraveling before their eyes. Who had he become? What shift had taken place? She could not see it clearly, could not reach across the distance to mend it. And yet the bond lingered–battered and imperfect–but still there. A knot could be tied. 

Step. Another.
The field opened, a chaotic expanse of destruction. The young Callaghan girl's voice warped and faltered across the scene. Auris' gaze scanned, desperate for from for something to bring home. But the earth had been torn, chewed, devoured.

Torn.
Shredded.
Eaten.

Until she seized a pack with shaking hands, holding it long enough to steady herself, then passed it to Erwin's father. She did not dare look inside, not while the world crumbled around her. Emmerich had vomited. Elwine stood frozen. 

Work smothers weakness.
Work wilts weakness. 

She checked on Emmerich as he fell against the tree, gasping that he only needed his brother. She made promises to Viago, that she would bring back what she could. And she kept that promise. Back at Ardrossil, she carried what little she could gather: bone fragments, torn flesh. Anything that could be burned, transformed to ash. Transformed into an urn. 

At last, she rested near the tree. A bloodied note in her hands. She did not recall when it had arrived, when she had sat to read it, but the memories replayed endlessly. Fractured. Alternating. Relentless. What had changed between then? Did either truly change? Or had war and grief merely bent the mirror until the reflection was unrecognizable? Tears fell onto the crumbled, bloody paper. Repetitive. Pained. Familiar. 

The first hours were waiting. The air had shifted, shadows gathering with the promise of sleepless hours, the weight of the day pressed into every bone. But the demands of the living lingered. 

[The Vulgate Cycle 577]

The irony of it all was, that despite how much he loathed the man, he had come to move past it all. Castamir was not sure when or how, but he had. He had let the anger go. And now Erwin was gone and the trajectory of his life had changed forever. 
"Bastard, you had so much to live for." He muttered.

Later that night, Castamir wandered the God's Wood of Angrenost. Where, more than any Temple or Church, he felt closest to Aeradar. Where he felt his prayers were more likely to be answered. So, he prayed and prayed and prayed for Anruthion's soul. If for no other reason than in the hopes that Erwin knew, he had forgiven him. 

 

Edited October 19, 2025 by The Vulgate Cycle

[Kudos 188]

Spoiler

THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE DOING LAST NIGHT????

 

[jihsoo 746]

  

10 hours ago, DizzyGrey said:

Guess it’s the end of our journey. I’m sure whoever gave you this has told you what’s happened. I don’t really know what to say here, so I’m sorry that it’s so short. I guess it’s just a little bit of advice:

Treat yourself kindly, and be brave. You’re a clever, determined woman. I’ve always admired that. But don’t be afraid to allow others in to be just as kind, just as brave. You deserve the world, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you.

Spoiler

 

It had been sometime since the pair had spoken to each other since their incident. Since they chose to part ways, have space, sending him off with a smack to his face, her silver scornful teary eyed gaze and a promise to speak again, for some ounce of clarity, some part of forgiveness - only that she didn't come on time to meet him half way, being met with a letter: "I guess I'm not a priority," amid a discussion, a meeting, her need to lessen the more harsh parts of his penance.

After all, she did play a part in it.

Whether she intended to fall in love with him or not. 

THWACK! THWACK!

Slowly, did Medliel find such a feeling fleeing from her chest, only the guilt of having been so selfish and naive, coaxing her to discipline herself further, her time in the Isle's mountains, training and honing herself. Blade carving slices into the rugged pine, as coldness chipped at her breath; she found herself a way to take out her frustrations by the means of thwacking her sword into the darn tree. Albeit it unskilled, it helped her mentally as bark flew from the trunk with an angered, THWACK, TWHACK, THWACK!

 

For every slip up. For every mistake. For every little thing that made her ache in shame. Not once would it slip her lips again, only shown in action - in ways to amend for her faults.

 

Perhaps, by the time we leave the Isles, we'll cross paths again.

She thought. A chance to make up for her words. A chance to apologize for her behaviour. Perhaps, even a chance to simply be friends- No, civil. Some sort of clarity to start trying to be better, starting with Erwin. A part of her would still love him still. Though never in the way that it once was before.

 

THWACK!

Then came the letter.

 

Such a dreaded letter. Amid finding a new tree as her victim did a handmaiden give her the letter. It had his name on it. Her hands went cold beneath her gauntlets, curling habitually, hesitant to grab it. Melding into one did her emotions fold into each other complexly. She knew he wouldn't just outwardly hand her a letter, nor reach out to her. Medliel had made it clear, she wanted nothing to do with him anymore, and knowing Erwin he would keep his word. And yet, there was some hope that it was one on speaking to each other again - to working to amend what had been broken, to cleaning up the mess they had made together.

 

A little scoff came from her lips, this little bubble of angry, boiling and churning at her stomach as brows knitted further, reading the letter over and over again. And yet as she scanned each word- no, tried to make sense of what he was trying to say to her, did tears flood and well by her ivory gaze, unwelcomed. She wanted to be angry, mad - he had left her to fix everything herself, on her own, all with the words: You deserve the world, and I'm sorry that I couldn't give it to you. The letter crinkled in her metal-hands, sword clattering to the ground as a broken whisper of a sob left the air but a question.

 

"Why couldn't you?"

[drywall 198]

─── ༻♡༺ ───

    Emberlyn’s leaf-green eyes drifted over the words she’d written, skimming the pages of her tome. She frowned at the idle doodles scattered in the margins—little sketches born from restless thoughts.

    Since arriving on the new continent, she’d shut herself away from her family. The last argument had been explosive, the kind that left everything in pieces. Afterward, she withdrew into her garden, where silence was easier to bear than apologies that would never come.

 

    She rose from the bench, her gaze lifting toward the apple tree overhead. The low-hanging fruit gleamed in the sunlight, but it wasn’t the apples that caught her attention. 

    A small blue bird perched among the branches, its feathers faded with age, the blue now streaked with gray. It had been with her for years—too many, perhaps. She knew she’d have to replace it one day, retire it to rest. But Emberlyn had never been good at letting go.

 

    A letter was tied to its leg. The bird fluttered down and landed on her shoulder, its claws gripping the fabric of her dress.

    She untied the note carefully with her right hand, setting it on her lap for a moment to stroke the bird’s head.

 

    Letters weren’t unusual for her.

 

    But as her eyes moved over the words, something shifted. Tears welled—strange, glimmering hues that blurred the ink as they fell. The page trembled in her grasp. No wind stirred. It was her hand that shook.

   The paper crinkled as a sharp gasp escaped her. Her breath caught; the world tilted. Grief struck her like fire—spreading from her chest, burning through her throat, hollowing her stomach. The weight of reality pressed down until she thought she might collapse beneath it.

 

    Wings fluttered beside her as the startled bird took flight, but even that felt distant. She was already on her knees beside the bench, the letter clenched in her fist. Loose strands of silver-blonde hair slipped from her bun, veiling her face from the world.

    All she could see was the grass. The dirt. The letter.

 

    Anruthion.

 

    Her eyes scanned it again and again, searching for some hidden jest, some “got you!” scribbled in the margins. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe a cruel joke. He wouldn’t be that cruel… would he?

    Her chest constricted. She couldn’t breathe. The letter pressed against her stomach as a sob tore free, violent and broken.

 

    Her brother. Anruthion. The only one who had ever reached out.
    The only one who checked on her after she’d vanished from home.
    The only one who challenged her, pushed her to grow.
    The only one who ever truly felt like he cared.

    He couldn’t be gone. Not him. Her heart refused to accept it.

 

    Shakily, she forced herself upright.

   

    Was he really gone?

   

Her steps came without thought, her breath catching with each one.

    The last time they’d spoken, they’d fought. He’d told her he’d already accepted her death—that she wasn’t his little sister anymore. Not the one he remembered.

    She’d wanted to talk to him again. Just once more.

    Her breath hitched, and she ran.

 

  Each step hurt. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred. Emotion tore through her like a storm she couldn’t escape. She’d never been good at accepting death.

    Her boots struck marble, echoing down the hallways lined with old busts and cluttered decorations. Colors—white, red, green—blurred past as she ran.

   

    When she reached her room, she twisted the doorknob and stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind her with the stump of her left arm.

    Every emotion struck like a serpent, each one biting deeper than the last. Every memory, every fight, every word they’d thrown at each other crashed over her in relentless waves. She could almost drown in them.

    She collapsed onto her bed, the letter still clutched to her chest. The hours bled into night, and the shadows grew long, then dark.

    By the time dawn came again, Emberlyn hadn’t slept.

    She stayed in her chambers, alone with her grief, shielding herself from a world that had grown too cruel to face.

─── ༻♡༺ ───

[ChainedDragons 1374]

Spoiler

I am sad. Very sad. Bron will also be very sad to know another bestie has joined the dead. :( He was such a cool character.

 

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

“You can tell a lot about an individual and their intentions by how they carry themselves and treat and deal with those around them.” Ena spoke to his nephew Enkai in the privacy of the late hour workshop shift, hours after Erwin’s banishment from the Kurai-Kuni Shugonate.

 

”He disrespected our Toshu, your okaasan. He acted as a mouse in our rice storage. Insatiable, undeterred, unreflective of how he moves incorrectly. I may be blind but I know a womanizer and degenerate when I hear one. Had it not been for the friendship between your okaasan and his father I would have slaughtered him nine times over until he experienced death of the spirit. He is a facet of the hakuma patriarchy we are adverse to. The death of culture and morals, the death of tradition. Like battle beasts he seeks to capture women for his collection. No doubt whoever he marries he will assassinate in 3 Kami months time when his interests move onto another….are you still listening?” Ena checked on Enkai’s work hoping his ranting still had the younger Kato’s ear as he worked tediously in the forge. Unbeknownst to him where he had surrendered his claim to justice, it was Kani’s in the end. @Star Whale

[confusedjester 809]

The Keen had heard of the news in passerby. It was something unexpected, not that she made any show of it.

 

Heilwig took a moment to pray for that lost soul of the Vourkehardt- and that was all the sympathy she could seem to muster.

[RingAroundRosey 498]

Spoiler

 

 

The rain beat down with vigor. She had been standing in the streets of a foreign city, new from the ones she would visit in her youth. Looming architecture of stone, a novel thing to spy upon.  Waiting for someone to return. Waiting for the returned separate letter of a dead man.

 

Instead she got a letter whispering of grief. She didn't believe it. She didn't remember how she fled the city. How she ran far into the woods. She wouldn't stop running until she couldn't breathe. Until her legs ached. Deep in the woods, the moon looming far above her head. She did something she rarely, if not ever, did.

 

She screamed. She screamed until her throat burned.

[Star Whale 115]

"I'm listening, Ojisan." The voice of the nephew would reply, a hint of frustration present in his tone due to the topic of conversation; as his mind was brought back to the situation from years past that put a strain on the relationship between him and his sister, the anger within him grew as he recalled those days and all the negative things he heard of the man who wished to marry his sibling, a personal feeling of disrespect still present in the Oyashi's mind as the Vourkehardt never once told him his true feelings for Choumi.

 

This anger would linger within Enkai as his gaze settled upon his latest project, a new blade for his mother. With his sight resting upon the blade, the Oyashi reminded himself not to be overtaken by his feelings; instead, he would continue his pursuit towards being a better brother, one not driven by the anger of his younger years. For the sake of his sister, he decided never to confront Erwin, instead hoping he would one day see the error of his ways and make a change, whether in this life or the next.

[Aimy_lol 429]

The Callaghan, only just starting to explore the new lands, would end up sitting by the fire pit back in Garenbrig. Her eyes remained on the flames, flickering with intensity; her face seemed to be spacing out, drained of any sense of present consciousness. Her mind whirled the exact moment the fight she and Anruthion had with the werebeast.

 

The attack from the beast occurred in a moment during the man's teaching to the teen on defending from evil. Quite ironic it is for the beast to appear. It had razor sharp claws and maws, skin as seemingly thick as leather, and standing at twice her height in size. It was wearing a dress, or at least some sort of drapes. It came on all fours, charging at her before Anruthion shoved Mereid aside, preparing to fight the beast with his Morningstar and yelling to Mereid to run to find someone or find fire.  Mereid nodded as she picked up her feet, turning to the road they were just on, and worked to make her escape. Seeing Mereid's attempts of escape, it chased after her before slamming Mereid into a tree before Anruthion fought the beast back as it grabbed his helmet, shaking and denting what protected his head. Mereid forced herself back up, looking down the road and making a run, however the beast with some cleverness blocked her path, leaving Mereid to defend herself with rolled up fists and a kick. The fight carried as such, Anruthion using his Morningstar, hatchet, and a spear to fight the beast, while Mereid only had what she could offer: her hands, feet, and an aurum arrow. Despite the shouting of Anruthion to Mereid to flee, she knew that she couldn't leave him behind to defend himself, as the beast only grew hungrier and hungrier with each claw reaching out to slash and dig towards him. 
 

In the long hours of the sun, the fight began to blur out with Mereid only recalling herself trying to shove a sharp end of a tree branch at the beast's face, the next she was holding onto the beast's legs with her whole arms and legs. Her arms was raised at one point with the aurum arrow pointed at the spine of the beast before striking it, hearing it's loud scream. Then in another split moment, she recalls her standing upright, strangling and pulling the beast to the side to try to get it away from Anruthion's face. At some point, her hands was aimed for the eye of the beast to gauge it out, but it had no effect. it bit into half of his face, making him ugly and a truly ugly sight for Mereid to see as her "mentor" was going to die.  Chomp, slurp. In a rush of anger, she'd take her aurum arrow back out from the spine of the beast and struck it at the head a few couple of times before aiming and digging it into the neck. The beast, in aggravated frustration, grabbed Mereid with it's clawed paws, as a screamed escaped from Mereid, and it threw her once more like the many times it had.

 

Beeeeep 

Her head rung as she found herself laying on the ground once more with exhaustion and pain. Her eyes opened in her helmet, seeing the beast looming over Anruthion as her maw and Anruthion, up by who knows what force, holding his broken Morningstar at the ears on the side of the beast's head, trying to push it through to the brain. Mereid saw what could be one of her last chances to stand up and run into the beast, doing a jump-kick to help push the beast away. However, it remained strong, standing back on it's feet after being pushed to the ground by Mereid. It would pull the aurum arrow out, chunk of it's thick leather-like flesh stuck on the barb, as it growled at Mereid one last time, her final warning to the young lady to leave. Mereid tilted to look to Anruthion, laying motionless before looking back at the beast as it grabbed him with its maw and started crawling back into the forest on all fours. Mereid would rush to pick up what remained of the Morningstar then bolting after the duo. She would throw her frog at it, hopping it would be a good enough distraction to slow it down, but the beast kept on going. Mereid would then try to leap at it when she could get close enough, but only ended up flat into the dirt bed of the forest's canopy. Her arms finding as much strength as it could, threw it in the direction of the beast, it didn't work. She pulled herself together to get back up, running once more as her eyes gaze upon the horizon and her leg failed her once more.

 

In the distant, a sight of horror in the night of the forest it was as the young woman watched the beast feasted on it's meal. Mereid sat there motionless, nothing left to do. Her body was limp catching up from exhaustion, and the bruises and scratches began to make itself known. After making it through the night and the sunlight shone through the trees, she only was able to find herself to stand up, find the remains of Anruthion's Morningstar, and walk back to the road. She'd take her horse out of it's whistle and headed down the road. - She could have rode her horse to find someone in her attempts of escape. - Her eyes stared blankly on the road, as she made her way to find a passer-by strolling down the road and up a stairway to, what she could only assume to be, the Vourkehardt's Castle. Her feet planted onto the ground off of her horse, as she walked up to Aethanis and another Vourkehardt, whom either she has not met or could not remember. Her hands lifted Anruthion's broken weapon to them both to see before speaking.

 

"It's Anruthion..."

 

Spoiler

(For those wanting to see the last emotes from the beast and Anruthion)

 

 

 

 

 

Edited October 20, 2025 by Aimy_lol