I think it’s kind of awesome that what happened with wick at obrimus felt like such a perfect beat to leave him at at the end of the arc. knowing this is obviously represents a huge change for him and we’re going to get to see what that ends up meaning for the character over the next schemers arc. and it only happened bc sam rolled like shit and brennan wanted to give him some agency in how he died. and instead sam decided to have wick slash a completely innocent woman’s throat to save his own skin. the dice tell a story and that story is wick better start killing or else
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thimble and julien I will always be obsessed with your dynamic. We’re 31 episodes in, only like 9 of those feature them at the same table but oh my god. like the fact that they both clearly don’t really like each other but are so deeply similar. They’re both lethal and sarcastic and vengeful and very shallowly beneath all that they’re so hurt and so lost in the world left in the wake of some of the worst things that could’ve happened to both of them. And the fact of that both of them share the loss of and desire to save the Golden Orchard. Like sure you hate each other but when you imagine your childhood you run through the same gardens.
And the part that makes me the most buckwild is probably that they’ve also been uncommonly kind to one another at points. Like Julien spitting on the body of her best friend, grabbing her wings, and then also telling her that Twig’s okay. And Thimble shitting on julien every chance she gets, reminding him he isn’t her better and is a piece of shit, and then bringing him his father’s blade. Also thimble thanking julien and him yelling FUCK like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. Oh seekers table v2 I’m so excited to see how their dynamic evolves more.
I loved Julien's line after killing Koral Tachonis: "He attacked me first". Because on one level, it is a great bit of irony given that Julien killed Koral while the later was gagged and straight-jacketed to a table, but on the other, I believe Julien sincerely believes this.
Julien seemed content to pass by Koral, to simply grab Alba's soul gem and leave, heeding Occtis' request to keep his brother alive, until he looked into the gem and beheld his sister's soul. Until he recognized the music cursing Koral as a Davinos dancing tune. And he remembered that this is the man who lead the attack on his home, who cursed his sister and he chose to repay those actions with blood. Julien's filial piety is such that it was the idea of Raimond's body being desecrated and his father's honour being stripped in death that Brennan used to try and lure Julien into the room with Teor and Raimond and Cyd, so it makes sense that it was that same sense that overrode any obligation he felt to honour what Occtis wanted him to do. Koral Tachonis attacked his family, and in doing so attacked him, so the retribution was fair game.
A vast dragon rises from the heart of an ancient lake, staring down at a legacy near forgotten and a child left abandoned.
Before the gods rose and fell.
The soul of the revolution belts freedom upon a hallowed stage. Calling to the time before, in a realm once of the divine.
Before the wars began.
With wing and hope well in hand, the wounded scions flee the deepest pit.
Our ancestors roared beneath the same stars you see now.
A broken man, a perfect demon & a more broken thing still stand amidst stolen shadow.
They still watch, still listen.
A lone light delves back into the gloom; she can't fail yet one more.
And when you doubt yourself, look up, their strength still runs in your veins.
The Prodigal Sun holds light in his hands amidst the great, wide sky above.
When dark night's silence falls, and hope seems gone, a deeper roar still carries on. It shakes the stars, and it splits the night sky, for it lives in me and will not die.
The House of Dead and House of Flame play a dreadful little game. But have hope against their ire, for the Brothers Fang have lit a Fire.
So lay yourselves to final rest, little lions, you tried your best.
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@beastenraged re: this reply thread I was at one point talking with @oswaldthatendswald about benn beckman/shamrock as 'red string of fate' soulmates in the context of their Teen Roadtrip AU (Rosinante gets unwillingly brought back to Mary Geoise age ~16, a few months before the same thing happens to Shanks, and the origin of the Red-Haired Pirates ends up being a daring escape with a very willing Benn Beckman and a much less willing Shamrock) and i spitballed an outline for a scene that seeing this gave me the push to write up :)
While Shamrock had of course handled retrieving his soulmate himself, he had accepted Father’s offer to prepare a suitable room. Father was skilled and experienced, so of course Shamrock hadn’t expected the arrangements to be bad, but it was a minor relief to inspect the suite and confirm that everything was indeed ready.
“Bring him in,” he ordered the slaves. While it would have been most traditionally appropriate to carry his soulmate over the threshold himself, the bondola was some distance from the Figarland manor, and he did not yet have the benefits of a Deep Sea Covenant. And his soulmate, inconveniently, outmatched him in both height and weight. Perhaps Shamrock would have reached his final growth spurt by the time he obtained his next rooms, and could enact the ritual properly. His soulmate might even be awake for that.
The man being laid unconscious on the bed was certainly in no state to appreciate an introduction to his new life. Shamrock kept vigil beside him until he finally woke, the red thread of their shared soul hanging taut between them.
His breathing barely changed, but the flare of alertness was like a firework to Shamrock’s Observation haki. His eyes barely cracked open, taking in the sumptuous chamber with a look of confusion, finally settling on Shamrock like two bright gems. Shamrock considered himself pleased. Doubtless it was the first taste of true finery the human had ever had in his life, but here he was looking at Shamrock. As was right and proper.
“May I know your name?” Shamrock asked. The insects he’d found his soulmate surrounded by hadn’t even been able to give him that, dismissing him as ‘some foreign bounty hunter.’ He’d been waiting for this moment ever since.
“…Benn Beckman.” It suited him. Shamrock nodded, internalizing the syllables, writing them onto his heart. “Who are you? Where is this?”
“I am your soulmate, Saint Figarland Shamrock.” Beckman’s eyes grew wide at the title. Good. “You are in the Holy Land, Mary Geoise. My home. Your home now as well.”
Beckman covered his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You can see our connection for yourself.” Father had warned Shamrock that his soulmate might be…unruly, upon discovering their new life, though he had never elaborated on why that might be.
“You’re a child. Can’t even grow a damn beard yet."
Shamrock was more stung by the words than he really ought to be. “I’ve completed every other rite to become a Knight of God. Retrieving you was my final task.”
Beckman sat up, squinting at him. “How old even are you?”
“Almost sixteen. Not that it matters—”
“You’re fifteen?” Beckman said some more words, ones Shamrock didn’t know. They didn’t sound happy.
"Not that it matters,” Shamrock repeated, imbuing the words with Conqueror’s haki to make his point. It brought his soulmate to silence, at least. “Because, as I said, retrieving you was my last task to rise to the rank of Devoted Blade. Even most among the ranks of the Celestial Dragons never attain such an honor.”
“You have to be a child bride for that?”
“Groom!” Shamrock could feel a furious blush creeping over his face. Could he not even tell—oh, he was smirking. That had been mockery. Shamrock pushed a little more Conqueror’s haki behind his next words. “A Knight of God must not lack any part of their soul, to be considered a Devoted Blade. It was required I retrieve you myself to prove my worth. I searched across the North Blue for you and raised you to the holy land beside me, to dwell with me in wedded bliss.”
Beckman looked at him the same way Father did when he had said something particularly naïve. It wasn’t Shamrock’s fault his soulmate had no sense of romance. Not when the man had spent their time together either fighting or unconscious. He’d just have to learn.
He didn’t interrupt again, so Shamrock continued. “This is a great honor. I’m lucky to have been given the chance to prove my worth and bring you here. I will be one of the youngest candidates to ever be made a knight. It wouldn’t have been possible without the support and training and approval of the current Commander of the God’s Knights.”
“Really.” Beckman didn’t sound impressed about it, but he sounded thoughtful. Was thoughtful a good sign? “Will I get to meet this Commander?”
“Very likely. He’s my father, Figarland Garling.”
Beckman screwed up his face. “Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
“It’s not nepotism,” Shamrock insisted. “I haven’t been given anything unearned. I’ve simply had the benefit of knowing—”
“Your father thought it was a good idea to put you between some, some stranger and getting out of here? At fifteen?”
“I've trained my whole life to be a Knight of God. Defeating you won’t be a problem, if you choose to be—” Shamrock shouldn’t call his soulmate an idiot in their first conversation. “—stubborn.”
His soulmate pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not talking about a fight, kid.” His hand fell to the string that connected them, reaching out along the intangibility of it, following the course so surely and steadily that Shamrock shivered without meaning to. He shivered again when that big hand came to rest on his heart. “If I wanted to, I could sweet-talk you so nice. Tell you how special you are.” Shamrock’s heart fluttered under his hand, and it lifted away, Beckman’s fingers trailing up the side of his neck and lacing into his hair. He let it happen, breath suddenly caught in his throat, eyes fixed on how the man had turned to face him, all of his attention on Shamrock. “Tell you exactly how clever and mature you are.” Shamrock’s heart leaped again. He was seeing it, he understood—of course he understood, he was Shamrock’s soulmate—“Kiss and tell and convince you to let that guard of yours allllllllll the way down…” Beckman was leaning in, overwhelming Shamrock’s view of everything else, and he couldn’t breathe, leaning in to meet him—
The hand in his hair yanked, hard. Not like in the novels where a lover pulled another along, but painfully like he was a child wrestling with the children next door again. “Ow!”
The hand fell away before Shamrock could break it, could grab back, could punish him for daring to—“And then I’d break your heart or slit your throat and go right out the window. Idiot.” Beckman pulled away, rolling to sit up, facing away from him.
This—Shamrock was breathing hard now, jumping back up out of the chair, face furiously red. No wonder Father had warned him about this, if—“But you’re my soulmate.” His missing piece, the end of his loneliness, tied to him by fate. The finest tribute offered to the gods-on-earth. No one had ever said he was allowed to be mean.
“So? It still happens all the time.” Beckman still wasn’t looking at him. “And you’re my soulmate, but that didn’t stop you from kidnapping me.”
Shamrock would not lose his temper. He had been too well trained, he knew what was expected, he was just going to stand here and become calm and think of a suitable punishment—
“Bet it won’t stop you from having me whipped, or thrown in a dungeon, or whatever else you need to do to tell yourself you’re the boss here, either. And it sure as hell won’t make it worth it.”
Shamrock was—going to leave. And stand outside. Until he was calm again. Because any retaliation at this point would just prove this idiot right.
Shamrock had done what he needed to do. He had reclaimed his soul. Beckman wouldn’t be going anywhere. And he wouldn’t succeed in manipulating Shamrock into anything again, no matter what he tried.
otto einfasen, to primus tachonis: you are not the house of death. you are the house of the dead. and your aesthetic enthusiasm for dead things does not make you the most dangerous man in this room.
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There is something about Occtis, who 2 days ago cast Gentle Repose on Dame Seremai to stop honor and protect her, immediately dropping that when he's in danger. He needs aid and there is a body right there. And he still asks, as soon as he knows she's still in there. Convinces her to fight for him.
He might not be a sorcerer, but Occtis is definitely still a Tachonis.
Occasionally you do need to just let fantasy be fantasy. "Why are the mountains around Mordor in a square, mountain ranges don't work like that" well you see there's an evil god who lives there hope this helps
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Sometimes I forget people aren't multishippers then I see someone talking about how they used to ship something then got a new ship and I'm like what do you mean you aren't just collecting ships like cool rocks you see on the ground
pirates of the caribbean really introduced an eldritch octopus man who kills indiscriminately and torments the dead as their poster villain and then you watch the movies and it's like, "oh no, actually the worst villain in this series is a small white british man who functions as the herald of capitalism" and that was very very brave of them
