#ipraygreywords

Sorry that our travel plans changed. I’m sure you understand, life of a diplomat and her bodyguard is ever tumultuous. But also there has been no updates on my research. No further headaches to report, though. 

That trip to Lyzeille will eventually happen, but we aren’t certain when. I’ll keep you informed.

I finally finished that copy of Queen Mercedes’ personal diary and gave the original to the scholars to fuss over. You can probably imagine their scolds at my having hoarded it for myself for months. But you can probably also imagine how much I cared. But I imagine you would appreciate this quote from her journal: “It isn't wise to be rude to one's mother. She knows everything about your childhood that is potentially embarrassing.”

There’s been a lot happening lately at the palace. The sparrows raised one clutch and their nest was carefully moved to a different place, only for them to take it apart and rebuild the blasted thing outside my window again. I yield for this year. Though after they leave for the winter I am installing pots of prickly bushes to discourage their return next spring. 

Princess Amelia has finally succeeded in teaching me a another dance, a formal kind of thing done in large groups and common at balls. It’s very set in the motions and forms and hard to teach without at least four people present, so I’ll take it as a win. 

I’ve started planning a journey to Elmekia. There are a lot of less scrupulous mage guilds there who might have insights on my goal after I beat them up a bit. Let me know if you would like a souvenir. 

Regards,

Zelgadis

legend of zelda starters.accepting!

           THAT CREEPING SENSATION might always be there, one he will know all too well – just wait until i prove you wrong. bodies used for ill ends, housing minds that oscillated between clear and mad at nauseating pace, when they are freed, the only thing left is fear. but the archmage never looks so. her features remain blank. even if rezo were to put a hand to her cheek, he will find no smile, no telling wrinkle of a wince nor tensing of a jaw.

         awkwardness paralyzes her this way, not unlike the grandson that was once so far away from him. this strange, sewn together family unit somehow fits that way. nahia the earnest cleric, no kinship of blood to rezo but so similar to him that it’s startling, and zelgadis the stoic battlemage, again sharing no blood with the archmage, but displaying habits that match as if they did share such blood. it makes one wonder if there is an entity responsible for pairing the souls of families. and further, if they made a mistake in tearing this one apart.

But seriously, thank you so much @naiokiara and @ipraygreywords. I can’t contain my happy tears (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ʃƪ)

I feel so loved. ♡

As the Great Sage retired to his guest quarters, Amelia found herself zipping back and forth around the palace as quickly as her daintily-slippered feet could carry her, gripping the skirt of her dress in white-knuckled fingers as a million thoughts raced her frantic mind.

Rezo. Zelgadis. Grandpa. Daddy. Death. Death? Royalty. Responsibility. Guilt. Zelgadis. Rezo.

“Princess, your father would like to remind you of your private audience later this evening.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Princess, the maids in the guest chambers are inquiring as to--”

“Give him what he needs, please, and don’t say anything more.”

“Princess, your grandfather is requesting--”

Two hours and a terrifyingly frank conversation about the impending realities of Eldoran Seyruun’s illness later, Amelia sat at the side of his bed, holding his hand in hers. He had fallen asleep.

Her chest rose and fell with the emotional exertion that had overtaken her, and she took a moment to steady herself and wipe nervous sweat from her brow before nodding at a door guard.

[ continued from X ]

As usual, Zelgadis’s jokes fall flatter than a conspiracy theory.

Well, he amends to himself, half-joke and half-reminder, because it is something that he, deep in his stony little heart, is proud of, and is not intent on letting Rezo forget.

“It isn’t all that,” he mutters, twirling a pencil in between his fingers as he sits backwards in his chair, musing at the half-written poetry before him. “There aren’t many,” he adds, admittedly, “since Amelia has stopped traveling quite as much. I consider myself incredibly fortunate that she’s kept my recent blunder regarding her kidnapping a secret.”

Zelgadis still can’t quite wrap his head around his upward mobility. A peasant lad, a mercenary, a knight? Amelia’s personal bodyguard? He used to abhor the very thought of being so tied down, or perhaps it was a way of contending with his own awkward affections.

         ‘ hmn, she is doomed, isn’t she? ’ she murmurs with a warmth he always manages to rekindle in her. still, in this one thing, in this singular trauma among her many, she is timid. she can bear so much, carry all else, but this is the tragedy where if left alone for much longer, seraphina would be past saving. ‘ poor thing, her limbs will grow so fast that she’ll have barely gotten used to one length before they’ve grown another two inches. gangly like a fawn on ice. ’

          while she is loose and relaxed against him, it still takes her a very long time to dip her toe in this strange and fragile thing called hope. how rezo has so much of it despite his hardships, she will perhaps never understand, and thus she cannot help but feel like the mangy stray cat that takes advantage of any sustenance it is given. even so, she manages to continue very, very quietly, ‘ i didn’t name my first two. and i only named wolfgang after he was born, so. ’ another pause. ‘ so i suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it? ’

         OF COURSE SHE comes. the word “lonely” hits seraphina harder than most, for loneliness had been her persistent plague that withered her heart before him. the way her fingers entwine through his is slow and earnest. he will hear soft boot-steps close the space between them. herbs and ash will greet him, and something fresh as well. something milky and soft.

        ‘ i am finished for the evening, ’ she murmurs with a relieved smile, resting her cheek against his shoulder. ‘ i hope you are amenable to being hoarded for the rest of the evening, for your warmth was just as missed. ’

It had taken a long time for word of the Red Priest’s revival to reach the wandering chimera. Longer still for him to believe them--Rezo had been killed twice already in battles with the piece of Ruby Eye that had attached itself to him. One indirect resurrection was hard enough for him to believe and he’d been present for Posel’s sacrifice. 

Whatever emotions of bitterness and hatred he felt towards the man it was entirely possible that with the knowledge he’d gained through his research and exploration of forbidden laboratories that if he could hear the precise procedure that had been used to forge his twisted body that he could finally figure out a way to correct his twisted form.

That was enough for Zelgadis to turn his path towards where the Red Priest’s rumored location was. He had no idea how he would react to seeing his grandfather again. He’d had a brief conversation with the man while he was in the Hellmaster’s Jar and plenty of time to consider his words. And, technically, without the curse he would likely not have met Ame... met any of his friends as he would have died on one of the missions he and his group were sent on.