#severon

The sight of the beast turned Felandaris’ stomach, but he had no interest in revisiting any memories of the night the three of them had spent together over Midsommar. “Keep up, creature, you’re dragging behind.” Felan barked as he settled back into the arcanist’s lair. He’d perfected his gates, all that remained was to turn them on but the drow was resolved to wait until the opportune moment. The architect wasn’t without ambitions, for now he would continue to act in secrecy. Only fools showed their hands. There was a saying among drow, offer a friend a knife and you’ll soon find it in your back. Rhovanor was made to carry his instruments, not because Felandaris required it but because it amused him greatly to watch the creature struggle. Spellcraft was where he’d excelled most, the halls of the sorcerers’ academy he’d built was filled with the volumes he’d written. Wizards busied about the chamber, each more ambitious than the last. Cutthroat. Just as Felandaris preferred them. The soratami had held the missing regents he required to complete his gates, a secret they’d been hoarding over for some time, melding it with his shadow magic had been a simple task for him. “What do we say when victory is ours? Quickly.”

Yavie was not a refined tool, he was a very blunt object and the things he’d managed to hobble together were representative of that. He’d been raised a warrior and the things he wished to make always threaded the line of warcraft. While Zahrya was pumping raw power into his changelings, Yavie was more interested in making the entire system autonomous. Subjugating Otherbeasts, and creating weapons similar to what Theneras had crafted. Yavie was having a hard time with all of it though, the tinkerer’s journals had been hidden away by the summer court so apart from the salvaged pieces from the devices Theneras had used, Yavie was starting over from square one. Arys or Levent, whatever his name was, had been kind enough to introduce him to blood magic, which Yavie hadn’t stopped using since. 

Ichor sank into the Otherworld as it melded with his song to calm the creature in front of him. Yavie was aware that he’d drawn the attention of at least one drow, he hoped it was Somniar but the fey wouldn’t hold his breath. He’d have known if the man was close. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yavie said as he looked over his shoulder towards the shadow, the writhing beast in front of him settled under the fey’s song of enthralment, his blood enhanced the spell as waves of raw magic emanated from the eladrin’s palm. A quick flash of his blade and it’s enormous head rolled between him and the drow. “I’ve been asking myself: what do these things eats? How do they think? Where did they come from?” 

This is written for fun, don’t take this (me) seriously!

Tom looked around his pub. It was a fairly quiet night, well, compared to the nights when he played Game Of Thrones on the telly.

“See ya, Tom! Bit drunk from the fire whiskey you served. Magical drink! Got my wife excited!” One of the customer howled before he left ー dragged by his ear by said wife.

Not exactly the kind of excitement he had in his mind LOLOLOL! #drunkcust #thepinkhairedwifeiscool

Tom exited the app and was going to take a picture of his cocktail when the sound of bell chimes told him of new customer. He turned to see a couple of adult, maybe in their 30s, sat at the bar. The gentleman looked sullen whilst the lady looked furious. He shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Evening lad and lass. Anything I can get ya?” Tom greeted them.

The man muttered something under his breath and Tom was sure the lady could hear him perfectly but she openly ignored him.

“Dry Martini for me and Pina Colada for him,” she said coolly, sliding her credit card across the bar, “Keep the tab open.”

“I said beer,” the man glared at her. He then shifted his attention to Tom, and with a small smile he added, “And chips on the side, please.”

Tom left them to their own devices ー quarrels, more likely. After some time, he went to give them their order. He caught up on their conversation.

“I can’t believe we’re still discussing this!” She yelled. She stopped herself from saying more in front of Tom.

Her partner thanked him before he chugged his beer.

Tom left them again but he stood in their vicinity, curious to know what was going on between the two good looking pair. From the sound of her shrieks, he knew it was something big. He kept his ears open.

“I don’t think I can take it anymore. We’ve been hiding a lot of stuff from each other!” He slammed his beer on the bar.

For the first time in that evening, Tom was grateful for the lack of patrons in his pub.

“I’ve been asking, ‘where have you been?’ ‘What were you doing late?’ ‘Who were you with?’ And I got no answers! How do you suppose I react to that, huh?!” The man ran his hand through his ginger hair frustratedly.

Tom noticed how the lady played with the ring on her left finger through his whole outburst. He saw her shoulders shook.

“For fucks’ sake, stop being a ninny! There’s a reason for that!” She finished her drink in one sip and lifted her glass up, silently asking for a refill.

Tom served her like a queen for calling him a ninny.

“If I hear you whine one more time, I swear I ー”

“What? Leave?” He laughed, “Nah you won’t. You’re bound to me.” He eyed the ring on her finger.

Tom clasped his hand on his mouth when it finally dawned to him: he didn’t have a ring on his finger.

He took out his phone and quickly tweeted:

Who’s the real cheater? Ginger head or pug face?! #shook #dramaoftheyear #teampugface

“This ring doesn’t have anything to do with you, asswipe!”

!!!! Pug Face just called him asswipe! #queenofsass #asswipe #asdfghjkl

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we’re over,” the man demeanour suddenly changed. He looked up to Tom and said in a very saddened voice, “Pina Colada, please.”

Tom felt bad for him so he gave him extra pineapple.

“What did I do wrong?” His voice was muffled as he covered his face with his hands.

The lady ruffled her black short hair and seemingly defeated. She dialled someone. She tapped her finger on the bar impatiently and halted when her called being answered. “I can’t hold on longer than this.”

Tom’s heart sped up.

OMGOMGOMGOMG

“I can’t stand his whining anymore!” She stared at his freckled face. “Just pick me up already!” She hung up angrily.

“He’s coming,” she told him.

He was silent for a moment, then he asked, “Why?”

She took one last sip when a car honk could be heard. She stood up to leave but she stopped a step away from the door.

I trusted you pug face! Don’t you dare take that step! #nuuuu!! #</3

“Because you’re not worth my time.”

The man snickered and without looking at her, he said, “Fuck off.”

She took the step.

ASDLFFGYLHHPTSMSW I SWEAR SHES A BITCH!!! #yeahfuckoff #fu

Tom was busy replying people’s replies when the door swung open abruptly, making the bell chimed loudly.

The black hair ran to ginger head and kissed him fiercely. “I’m sorry for being distant. I promise you there’s a reason, a solid reason!”

“What’s that?”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” the black-haired man went down on one knee, one hand holding Ron’s hand, one hand holding a small red box on its palm. “Will you spend the rest of your life with this old man?”

Ron’s tears were streaming down like waterfall, he snorted and finally gave him his answer, “Yes! Of course I’ll bloody spend my life with you, Snape!”

Snape’s face lit up and he flounced his hair as he said, “Everyone, we’re getting married!”

Tom cheered for them passionately. “On the house!” He served the newly engaged couple the best Pina Colada he ever made.

Ginger head is officially off the market! #ageisjustanumber #mlm #gaypride #happy

“This supposed to happen on our 5th anniversary but Pansy called, said she couldn’t hold the secret from you anymore.” Snape kissed the ring on Ron’s finger.

Ron laughed and Tom was glad to see him happy.

“Can’t believe she’s married to Gin. She’s forever tied to me. Family!”

“Yes. And one day I hope to have a big family with you.”

“Oh, Snape.”

location: somewhere in the otherworld

notes: dad helping mom with her pledge

          The Otherworld had been plagued by instability since the insurrection of the drow, the faerie court damned by the darkness which leeched from the obsidian creatures who boasted of their allegiance to Lloth and Ayi’ig. Perhaps their antics would be better obscured however by the eldritch changelings that now hunkered through the forest grounds, by every other nefarious creature who meddled within the Otherworld currently. The Artificer had followed through on his promise, she was propelled by the one incident that had transformed her entire life; her first coven booting her due to her parent’s puerile mistakes. Over a century and yet the Advocate still simmered with this adolescent ire, her life would not be fulfilled unless it was thus completed. 

The Artificer had sent her a cleverly embellished note hinting towards their meeting place. It’d not taken her long to decrypt the magic wound within the short note, symbols and hidden meaning jumping forth to reveal a time and a rather vague place. The Otherworld was as vast as it was mighty and menacing, one could get turned around easy enough, but it was the sound of muffled terror that allowed Efigenia to meet her kindred drow.

From his chambers in the spire he’d erected over the former Winter court, cruel and oppressive as it overlooked the landscape of snow and shadow, Felandaris looked out to the promised realm. To the place that had been spoken of for millennia as Ayi’ig wove her carefully constructed web to lead them here: to the quarry in the South, the structures that had risen over the four courts and the royal palace, to the darkness that hung over the stars as Felandaris’ spires drew from their fading light. From the ground itself as raw, cosmic magic fueled the workshops and the industry that quietly bloomed under the workforce that had been brought in from the Underdark. 

Large, velvety wings unfurled as he stood upon his balcony that in a single sweep brought him off the floor before he was descending through the open air. It was a feeling that Felandaris was not sure he’d ever tire of, the rush of the wind as it passed over him, the thrill of free falling and then breaking and steadying. The caverns of the Underdark were expansive, gargantuan, but a ceiling above him was nothing compared to the infinity of sky. To the feeling of flight and freedom. 

When he descended amidst Severon’s workshop, within the metallurgy and enchantments of the force that wandered about his wings ceased to beat but Felandaris remained aloft still. The royal drow had lived a very, very long time. More years than he could number as eventually they all began to muddle together, but he remembered the days they spent in the stars, the realm of light that they’d hailed from. It was Felandaris’ hope to usher in a renaissance of this fallen age, one not made for the light elves, but for the dark instead. 

Air and will kept him afloat, a head above the others as he preferred to keep his gaze turned down upon the rest of the world. “Greetings,” Felandaris stated with ease, his smile easy but pointed. Silver hair and gray skin with a pair of purple hues looked back towards his fellow drow, “this bangle is quite useful.” The drow pointed out as he turned the bracelet with an easy flick of his wrist, all at once his wings dissipated, his skin pinkened and his hair darkened to an ashen blonde while blue eyes looked back at Severon. “You were right, works like a charm. I’ve been able to walk among them undetected for months.”