Just Random Thoughts

Hi! I’m WolfoxJade17! That’s my username anyway. But u can call me Ricanna (I love that one) or Ireba. Or Wolfie. Or Jade. Honestly, u can call me whatever.

I’m mainly gonna use this for KoLTC blogging. The whole reason I have this blog is KoLTC.

About Me

Pronouns are she/her. Almost 15. I’m still figuring things out but sapphic and mabye ace.

Fandoms

Koltc, PJO-HOO-TOA, HP, KPDH.

Fintan Pyren was prepared.

Of course he was. This was his chance, his one golden opportunity, to takedown the Council. His chance to finally overthrow the cowardly leaders who had ruined the lives of so many Pyrokinetics, robbing them of their dignity and reducing them to talentless. Everything was set – every piece in the brilliant plan made by him, Gisela and Vespera.

He wished he could claim all of the merit for himself, but he had stolen most of the ideas from Gisela, before who had formulated them before dying at the hands of the ogres after that fateful battle at Mt. Everest.

The Neverseen had the support of the dwarves and the trolls, along with a fraction of the ogres. Queen Hylda was facing her own civil war, the goblins were too divided to protect the elves. And Fintan expected no resistance from the cowardly elves and gnomes – he had the support of all the Exillium waywards, and most of the working class. The Moonlark and her little group of friends were barely a challenge. As Vespera said, they didn't have the ruthlessness to do anything.

The Councillors would barely see what was coming, ducked up in their fancy castles. They'd all be in Eternalia for the summit – and the leftover goblins could easily be taken care of. It was all so deliciously simple.

​Bronte was shivering – he took a deep breath in, and steadied himself. He would not show any sign of weakness – and definitely not today. Today was the day – he'd become one of the first Emissaries. And how could the Council not choose him? He was one of a kind – the only Inflictor in the whole of the Lost Cities. The initiation ceremony was simple – a journey to the throes of the atmosphere, and an oath.

​The ceremony was nearly over when Councillor Fintan introduced himself as Bronte's point of contact with the Council.

​Goblin bodies littered the floor, making a crimson trail which decorating the castle. Empress Pernille's trolls and the Waywards had clearly done their job right. Fintan strutted down the hall, Gethen, Ruy and Vespera at his heels. It only took a second to eliminate the goblins who charged at him – a few strong gusts of wind, a forcefield, and a sharp sword. Though the Council might have been alerted due to the screaming.

​"Are you going to blow open that door already?" Ruy asked. Trix sent a gust of wind at those mighty gilded doors as an answer. The doors blew open, and angry newborns rushed in – Vespera had full control of them.

Fintan savored the expressions on the Councillors' faces as the a force field surrounded him and his comrades – shock, terror, fury. The trolls rushed for those deemed most dangerous – the chargers, the gusters, the vanishers, the beguiler... and Bronte.

​Bronte stared at the white-blond head in front of him. "Is that all?"

Bronte nodded "yes." So far, the investigation has been futile.

Councillor Fintan nodded, like it was a matter of little concern to him. And probably it was. He was a Councillor, he would have seen far worse. Fintan was silent for a while, before he said something that surprised him.

​"Haven't you found a partner yet?" Bronte started.

Fintan continued "Haven't you collected all five of your matchlists?"

Bronte waited a second before answering "Well, I have. But I couldn't find a connection with any woman on them. And anyway, I've decided to stay single." Fintan cocked an eyebrow.

​Bronte continued – "I plan to get on to the Council someday. But I'll have to wait for one of you to get off." Bronte smiled a small smile.

"Is that so?" said Fintan.

Suddenly Bronte felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was aware of how close they were standing. How those pale blue eyes had an intensity he had never seen before.

​"Well, you can't expect me to retire for you." said Fintan slowly, tracing a finger up Bronte's cheek. Bronte wasn't sure if he was breathing. He lifted his hand and stroked the man's face, staring at his pale lips. Was this how you felt with a match? It would take a second to close the distance on them. Bronte moved closer. He grabbed Fintan's hair and pushed his tongue into his mouth. It was rough, but somehow extremely 

"Fuck" 

Fintan softly sweared as Bronte's tongue scraped the inside of his cheek, slowly nibbling his lower lip, almost crushing it.

​The trolls did their job well. Zarina tried in vain to send a jolt of electricity and kill their attackers, but it jumped straight at her throat and tore it open with its sharp pointed teeth. A fountain of blood erupted from her throat, and she dropped down like a rag doll. All around was death and destruction.

Fintan took a moment to steady himself. He was shaking, breathing hard. After all this time, after seeing all this carnage, after doing so much, he still had a bit of the coward in him.

The surviving councillors were screaming in horror as they watched their comrades fall... Vespera commanded the trolls to stop. They immediately were still. A force field popped into view.

"What... what is the meaning of this?!"

Fintan slicked back his white-blond hair. "This is what I believe is called a coup d'état." Emery started.

A smile spread on Fintan's face as Vespera said "We are going to take over. You have no choice in the matter. Surrender now and come with us. We can make use of your talents. If you refuse, well... we won't hesitate in doing to you what we have done to your fellows."

​Fintan almost jumped as he heard a voice he thought he would never have to again. "The citizens of the Lost Cities will never accept this!"

Fintan looked closely at him. "You survived the troll attack?"

​Bronte had waited for this moment. Centuries of planning, of hoping, of doing every task he was told to do. The Council had drastically increased the number of Councillors, and Bronte was the first one considered.

The eleven other Councillors followed him in a triumphant procession as he walked to his Councillor's castle. Then followed the usual extravagant housewarming ball, with the finest gnomish foods and generous amounts of fizzleberry wine, as only befitting a Councillor. They revelled for hours, but when the sun began to set, they all began to quickly trickle out, one by one. As expected, Fintan was the last to leave. He swayed on the spot he was standing.  Bronte scowled as he led him up to his room. Getting drunk was no behavior for a Councillor. He gently let Fintan lie on his bed, when Fintan grabbed his hair and pulled Bronte's lips to his. Fintan slurred, and pulled away. He grabbed the front of Bronte's tunic and pulled him onto his bed, tracing his jaw. Bronte pulled Fintan closer as Fintan removed his shirt slowly tracing the ribs that jutted out of his bony frame. Fintan swore under his breath as Bronte undressed him... Bronte kissed the pale lips – as the bony hands worked at his pants. Bronte caressed Fintan's body as climed on top of him….

Bronte clearly didn't look good. His fancy councillor's tunic was torn, he was bloody, and his eyes shone with rage and horror and pain.

Traces of betrayal run then deep inside.

"The people won't resist us much if you side with us. We've been stuck with the same horrible systems for millennia. You have hindered the progress of our species, you have enslaved people in ignorance! You have oppressed people for merely for what they were born as! We won't suffer this any longer!"

Bronte gritted his teeth "We will never join you!" The other councillors didn't look as convinced, however. A few were shaking hard enough to faint.

"That was not a request. Of course, it would be far easier for us if you side with us. It would help paralyse resistance. But that's not a requirement."

​The trolls moved closer.

​Emery was the first to bow down. "What do you want?"

"Just admit that we are the new leaders of our world, that you have created a mess, that you support our leadershipm" said Gethen.

Bronte gritted his teeth. Fintan knew that he would never fall. Neither would Oralie, who was staring at Fintan with grief and fury. But Fintan didn't care about her. Gethen had already called dibs for her blood.

But a couple did. Clarette, Emery and Terik agreed while their leftover comrades stood in shock.

Vespera said a few more commands into her mouthpiece. The newborns began savagely attacking the. Fintan watched as two of them lunged at Bronte. Bronte attempted to inflict on them, but he was becoming the only target as more Councillors were ripped apart, more trolls free to attack jim. Blood flowed freely from the place where Bronte was standing. Fintan closed his eyes as a jagged scream rent the air. A small part of Fintan wanted to order Vespera to stop the trolls... He clamped his teeth hard on his tongue, Fintan felt the metallic taste of his own blood as he waited....