Fox Veros, Novelist

@verosthewriter.bsky.social

1164 Followers 228 Following

Cerebral, character-driven fantasy with social awareness. Sometimes NSFW. Check out the pinned comment. Sorry, I'm not commissioning art. He/him/his. BLM. Pro-LGBTQ+. Anti-genocide, no matter who's doing it. Down with white patriarchy. AI is unwelcome.

FantasyIndiesAugust 13. Special items in WIP
“All right, everyone stand back, just in case.” Zedenko prodded the latch from beside the door with his stick, carefully sniffed the mechanism, then backed away to arm’s length and slowly pressed the latch down while still in a crouch. Nothing happened, and the door remained closed. “You come across a lot of unfriendly doors, then?” Gallara asked. “You have no idea.”
black orchid
The others watched quietly, occasionally glancing over their shoulders for danger, as she took her staff in both hands and drove its bottom tip into the soil between her hooves. She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and began whispering. Arcane words as old as the forest took form in her mouth; energies as old as the earth itself reached up from the ground to meet her mind and soul. She mentally reached out to the power of the spell that had summoned the grimthorn stalks and held them fast around the temple; with her words and her will she tested the carefully-placed conjuration for understanding, and for access. And then she began slowly to unmake it, meticulously stripping away each layer of magic one gentle syllable at a time. Nothing visible happened for a long moment, and Grinks began to shift with the beginnings of impatience - but then a low creaking sound groaned through the sunny air, and a ripple seemed to run through the temple’s thorny shell. Then the briars slowly began creeping, sliding, slithering off the temple’s roof and down its walls as the thorns retreated into their stems. The cruel brambles pulled themselves back into the earth, shrinking and thinning as they retreated, and disappeared into the ground like a swarm of hellish serpents desperate to flee the sun. The last of them finally disappeared from sight, and the ground beneath the friends’ feet shimmered with a newly-grown carpet of thick, vibrant grass and clover. Laylee slowly opened her eyes and took another deep breath - and chuckled as her friends applauded.
She opened her mouth and took him in again, this time leaning forward until his dick touched the back of her throat - then she grabbed his hips with both hands, stuck out her tongue, and leaned in even farther. The head of his cock slid deeper into its new home, testing her gag reflex along every glorious inch. At last she couldn’t take any more, and steadily but quickly eased back until the entire length of his cock slid free of her mouth. “Are you all right?” Davik asked, his cock twitching in front of Laylee’s face as she panted happily. Laylee raised her hand against the underside of his penis and smiled. “Not yet.” And she took him in again. She felt her pussy throbbing with desire as his cock glided back over her tongue and into her throat again, and she clamped her free hand over her crotch, digging two fingers into her wet cunt. Her attempt to moan was muffled as she swallowed his member again, sinking it deeper and deeper into her throat as she plunged her fingers into herself and rubbed her clit with her thumb. Her heart thumped in her chest as she pushed herself farther onto his cock, her eyes watering. She snaked her eager tongue back and forth, up and down, deliberately dancing it along his cock. The tip of her tongue reached his balls again, and then her lower lip did the same. She could feel every inch of his hard shaft filling her mouth and throat, challenging her very limits - and her clit throbbed all the harder under her unrelenting thumb. Even as her lungs began to ache, she curled and stroked her tongue along and around his sack, feeling every pulse and twitch of his cock deep in her throat.
FantasyIndiesAugust 10. Last, Current, & Next Reads
“Seff.” His voice strained, and he took a deep, heaving breath. “Right now, I’m going to tell you one of the hardest things a man of faith can ever say.” It took him an extra few seconds before he forced the words out: “I don’t know.” I felt part of my world - or maybe part of his world, the part that mine was built on - crumble out from under me. He had admitted to uncertainty a few times in the past, but with full confidence that he would figure things out or that the Many would provide an answer. This time, though, his voice came out weak with pain and doubt, and bitterness crept over his face. I told myself that I was only looking away because one of us needed to keep watch, and Drohim sure as hell wasn’t just then. I just hoped he still knew where he was leading me, because - “… but that’s when it’s most important to keep faith. Do you understand, Seff?” Drohim took another deep breath and let it out slowly - not quite a sigh, but close. “I killed the assassin before he could accomplish his goal. Maybe that was by the Many’s protection, and served as the Many’s justice.” He still wasn’t looking at me. I didn’t say a word as we walked through the streets, and I definitely didn’t point out that it might have had nothing to do with the Many at all - just like when we escaped from the constabulary in Nysarra. Another glance at Drohim’s face told me everything: he was thinking it, too, no matter how hard he tried not to.
In another room two floors away, Lodestone’s solid steel dildo slid up into her cunt, already vibrating with her own magnetic force. “Ohh, yeah,” she grinned, and finished tightening her nipple clamps. “Okay, where was I? Ooh, right.” She chuckled as she started typing again. ***Stardust threw off the remains of the invader’s spaceship and found Puri-Fire waiting for her, reaching to help her climb from the wreckage. Both their costumes hung in immodest tatters, but it wasn’t why she blushed as she took his outstretched hand. “I know you could get up on your own,” he admitted. “But I was so afraid I’d lost you, I just needed your touch.” She pressed her heaving breasts into him in a desperate embrace and ran a hand through his sexy flowing locks. “Oh, Puri-Fire!” she moaned. “The only thing I can’t do is hold back my truth anymore. I love you!” She looked down. “And I see that you’ve gotten up on your own, too!” “No, my love,” he said, his eyes smoldering with passion like embers ready to burst into flame. “I had your help with that.” “Oh, Puri-Fire! Please! Make love to me right now, on top of this battle cruiser in the middle of the street!”*** “Hell yeah, that’s good,” Lodestone murmured, and kept typing as the dildo vibrated a little harder. “A girl can dream …”
FantasyIndiesAugust 9. Do dreams feature in or inspire your writing?
She snorted, and accidentally stepped in a pile of baelg brain as she picked her way through the blood and guts. Her stomach turned a little, but she was rapidly getting used to it. That bothered her – this wasn’t the kind of thing she’d ever wanted to be okay with. Not for the first time, she was glad she hadn’t stayed in the military. It also bothered her to be covered in blood that she couldn’t just whisk away with a flick of her finger. She’d been lying when she told Zedenko she couldn’t do more than just keep him from bleeding to death, but she didn’t know what kind of limits her magic had, and if she was close she didn’t want to waste the last of it on him. She did feel weirdly hollow and figging exhausted, but that might be just because she was figging exhausted. She needed to test the exact limits sometime – she realized yet again that she’d never understood where her magic even came from – but experimentation would have to wait until she and Alakshi were more than barely functional. That meant she was stuck with the blood and guts drying in her hair and getting crusty inside her clothes and armor. She even hesitated to clap twice and make her glowing spheres disappear, even though she didn’t need the light anymore. It felt strange to have to hold back on something she’d gotten so used to using. It felt vulnerable. That *really* bothered her.
The song ended, and the minstrel laughed merrily as she leaped to another table of welcoming patrons dressed in uniforms and a dusting of flour. “And who here knows the ballad of Jessy the baker?” Shancy called. Her new tablemates and several others cheered, and Shancy began to play with the sweet richness of a luxurious dessert, fresh from the oven. Laylee found herself tapping her hoof in time to the music, and her friends soon joined in. The delicious melody rounded out its first refrain before Shancy’s smiling mouth opened and she began to sing, hearty and clear: “Oh, Jessy the baker, she rolls the best dough And everyone longs for her buns It’s not just her pastries that make her great though - oh no! She happily sits on each one!” Laylee laughed, and her long brown ears twitched with inspiration. She eagerly rose from her chair and started shaking her ass back and forth while her hooves kept moving to the music. A second cheer went up through the barroom, and several other patrons got up to dance in the aisles, too. “She has such skilled hands and the heart of a lass And the curviest, creamiest thighs The gods also gave her a lovely round ass - oh yes! That she fondly sinks into her pies!”
Cover illustration for the board game Hero Quest
The rest of the kidnapping team - an elven woman, another human guy, a gnomish guy, and a human woman - pulled back in shock. Then Telo shouted, “They know about the kidnapping!” One more instant of shock, then the survivors came at us even harder. The elven woman attacked Drohim on his left side, trying to feint and stab at his torso, while the second human guy moved to his right side to outflank him - and to keep him and me from fighting at each other’s sides. And the other two came around the table for me. My heart instantly leaped inside my chest and I broke out in a cold sweat. Drohim could handle two enemies at once, but he was a Blade of the Many with years and years of hard training and experience. I’d taken on two or three bullies at a time as a kid, yeah, and I’d gotten the crap beaten out of me every time, even if I won; if I let two people with swords attack me at the same time, I wouldn’t even have a chance.
FantasyIndiesAugust 6. Make a "recipe" for your WIP (tropes, media that inspired it, etc.)
The road was crowdening because they were reaching the end of the desert, and the greenery beyond it would be in sight soon – and with it, the national border between Quisoll and Grotrekt. Border security bottlenecked the road, and they predictably had to stand in line at least half a day waiting to get through. When he was a kid, spots like this were ideal pickpocketing ground – the dense crowd was good for escaping both notice and pursuers; a single day was usually enough to lift almost a month’s worth of food money while only getting the shit kicked out of him once or twice.
FantasyIndiesAugust 5. Important days in WIP
Zedenko slipped out of Koraiath’s arms like a cat that didn’t want to be petted. “Hey, who’s complaining?” he grumbled, and sat back down where he was before. “Between him and that priestess, this is the most action I’ve gotten in years.” Alakshi shrugged again. “I could try it,” she offered. “My mom was one of the head priests in Itaras. Maybe that’s kind of like royalty? We didn’t have anything higher than that.” Gallara shrugged back. “Yeah, go for it.” She fit herself into where Zedenko had been, suddenly clumsy, and hoped that whatever he was sick with wasn’t catching. Koraiath’s wide-open eyes and half-open mouth made her feel kind of awkward about the whole thing; she focused on the fact that he was actually pretty nice-looking, and closed her own eyes.
FantasyIndiesAugust 4. Favourite piece of folklore or fairytale
Zedenko groaned. “Why can’t the gods do their own dirty work?” “Why should they?” Gallara retorted. “They keep finding ways for mortals to do it for them. Their crap always affects us first, after all.”
Oh, there was an inscription in proto-Frygarn on the pedestal. “Take this wand, if your heart is true,” Zedenko translated out loud. He tried to muster some humor in his fake smile as he turned and said, “It’s safe as far as I can tell, but I need someone else to grab it.” Everyone chuckled, believing that it really was a joke. They all looked at each other for a second; then Gallara shrugged, walked over, and lifted the lid off the box with her hands. Weeks ago, Zedenko would have inferred there was a low bar for trueness of heart. It hurt to know how wrong that would have been.
book asks: 1. book you've reread the most times? 2. top 5 books of all time? 3. what is your favorite genre? 4. what sections of a bookstore do you browse? 5. where do you buy books? 6. what books have you read in the last month? 7. is there a series/book that got you into reading? 8. what is the first book you remember reading yourself? 9. when do you tend to read the most? 10. do you have a guilty fav? 11. what non-fiction books do you like if any? 12. did you enjoy any compulsory high school readings? 13. do you have a goodreads? 14. do you ever mar/dogear books you own? 15. recommend and review a book. 16. how many books have you read this year? 17. top 5 children's books? 18. do you like historical books? which time period? 19. most disliked popular books? 20. what are things you look for in a book?
“The remaining settlers?” Zedenko said pointedly. “Oh. The dryads may have, um, gotten persuasive before what was left of the settlement’s leaders agreed to leave. We think they’re also why the garroteweeds are as common as they are in the town’s ruins now.” She looked at Lusad. “Honestly, I’m not sure that the Luteneskens’ remains have anything to do with it. But it would be nice to have them back in an active temple.” “That’s just great, it really is,” Zedenko put in. “I mean, I’m just thrilled about wandering around looking for sacred places in ghost towns created by pissed off primal forces, but that doesn’t tell us how far away it is.” “Oh, right. It’s -” “Manners, Friend Halivan.” “Sorry.” “- about ninety miles away.” Gallara squeezed her hands into fists so tight that her knuckles ached. She’d better get the best frostblossoms ever planted.
FantasyIndiesAugust 2. Two truths and a lie about you or your WIP
And then Alakshi heard lots and lots of vines moving at the same time. She dropped to an evasive crouch, looking all around, and saw that the vines weren’t headed for them. Instead, countless garroteweeds from every direction were slithering, crawling, flying together at horrifying speed into the huge clump of magic. They raised up and knotted together, forming a huge cluster first and then lashing out and raveling themselves into ropes, then cables, then columns of thorny plants until the huge clump at the center stood on five stomping legs. Individual vines whipped through the air in a frenzy all around it, and the clump reached out with five more spiny braids as thick as willow trees. Reached for them.
When I got back with Drohim’s spare shirt, the High Madge was still gaping the awful scene in the office, clearly trying to gather a coherent thought while his could-have-been-killed stupor slowly passed and Drohim knelt and examined the dead manticore. He settled on, “Kidnappers?” I’d kind of hoped he would ask why anyone would conjure something with wings into a closed room, because I wanted to know and didn’t dare open my mouth again. Drohim stood up from the monster, apparently deciding he’d found all he was going to. “Whoever took Torvandin from here knew an investigation was inevitable, and they apparently did their best to end it early. The next question is, who would think to lay a trap - a magical trap - that would summon this? If they could draw a magic sigil, why not use one that would set the room on fire and damage any evidence, for example, or kill the victim outright?”
Far more than my combat-trained arm, the force of my rage drove the hammer down, so hard the haft lodged between his eyes. I let go and leaped over Valiance’s body for the two that had stabbed Blue. Their eyes and mouths went wide as they saw me, and I knew they would die afraid. One threw up a parry and nearly lost her grip on her sword as I battered it down, slashing her across the face despite her best efforts. The man next to her thrust at me, his sword dripping with my horse’s blood; I parried as if it were easy and sliced through his jugular as I pulled my sword back into another swing at the bleeding woman. At the same time, I pulled my dagger from my belt with my free hand, turning and driving it into her gut as she moved to defend against my sword; I let myself twist the blade as she crumpled to the ground, shrieking. They had combat training and experience, yeah, but they’d stuck by each other’s sides like they were in military formation when they could have outflanked me - and individualized training with a Blade of the Many had apparently made me faster than they’d expected.
One human guy, though, was looking ahead with remarkable intensity. Muscle crowded his lean frame anywhere it would fit, and his clean-shaven head and ruddy face gave no clue at all about his age. He didn’t have any weapons, but he moved with an efficiency that implied long combat experience, and she could feel a little magic around his belt. Gallara actually couldn’t remember seeing him around the caravan until now.
As he swallowed, his face showed an interesting combination of pain, serenity, and embarrassment that I’d never seen before. “Thank you, Seff,” he said softly. “I hate being in this position, but thank you.” I nodded, and fed him more broth. “You’re welcome. I’m your squire, after all. Sir.” His whole body suddenly shook and seized with pain. I put the broth down as fast as I could and put my arm around his shoulders, hoping that maybe it would help with the pain or at least keep him from falling off his cot. And then I realized that the pain had hit him because he’d chuckled. “Sir?” He gradually relaxed and eased back onto his cushion, but he smiled again. “Yes, you are. But not for long.” I didn’t like any of the places this could be going. “Sir?” He turned his head a little and looked me in the eye. “As soon as we get back to Brauderlein, I’m going to recommend you for full Blade training. You’re still young, but you’ve shown me more than enough.” His body stiffened a little, and I could tell he was holding off on another chuckle. “As much as it pains me to lose you so soon, I can’t hold you back from your destiny.” I flinched at the mention of my destiny. *My* destiny. Yeah, I’d said a lot of prayers to the Many in the last few days, but I’d never promised it anything. I also couldn’t quit thinking about what I’d done with my sword in that swamp, though. “That’s a great honor, sir,” was all I said.
She made a little noise of surprise and loosened her arms around him. “Don’t worry, I’m being really careful not to squeeze too tight.” If anything, she sounded a little hurt that he would be worried. He felt his face heating up with embarrassment as he pulled back. “No, that’s not - Wait, that’s actually a really good idea. Thank you. I keep a kind of buffer around myself so things like bullets can’t touch me, but I don’t know how long my telekinesis could -” He suddenly stiffened and put his hands on her beautiful arms. “Flo, I apologize if this is too forward -” Her eyes were wide with uncertainty, and with hope. “It isn’t, I promise. Please tell me.” All right, then, no excuses for chickening out. “My powers. You don’t have to worry about hurting me if I’m not actually touching you.” He sent a telekinetic caress over her scalp, and she shivered with pleasure. “If you want, I would love to help you with -”
“You mortals – all of you – need to know your place,” Evisto seethed. “You four are no more than broken tools, no longer useful, just like all the others over the centuries.” He looked up at the darkening sky, then back to them. “And now, that’s all any mortal will be.” He grinned – actually *grinned* – and Gallara noticed for the first time just how sharp his teeth were. “But first, you four will learn.”
Still no eye contact. “Give me a break, man! There’s no such thing as a guy who isn’t compared to every other guy. How would you like being the pussy on the team?” Rhett gave him a sidelong look, wishing someone who was better with words could help, and also glad that it was just the two of them in that room. “Stop talking down on my friend. And to answer your question: I wouldn’t like having to fight for the world’s safety without my super strength, team or not. But that’s exactly what you do. No, you’re not as physically strong as other people, and the fact that you still do all the same things we do means you’re that much braver.” Cole scoffed and looked at the other side of the room, but still clutched Rhett’s hand; Rhett thought maybe he’d made his point, but Cole seemed to be planning to write it off in favor of more sulking. So he added, “And liking guys doesn’t make you any less of a man, either.” Cole’s head one-eightied so hard it almost came off his neck, his eyes wide with near-panic. “I don’t -” He forced a chuckle as his posture sagged. “Oh god, you can read minds now, too? How long have you known?” Rhett managed to give him a friendly smile instead of laughing. “Gaydar is one power I don’t need my cloak for. I was sure two days after you joined the team.” This time he did laugh at Cole’s horrified expression, just a little. “You haven’t been as subtle as you think.”
“Whoa! What the hell, Jorang?” Gallara said. “You’d fight her? Over this?” “Seriously, that’s going a bit far,” Zedenko said. “I mean, yeah, I deserved it back then, but this is a totally different situation.” “I will not compromise on this,” Jorang said, feeling the anger coursing through his body, giving him strength. “I will break before I bend, and I will not allow her to dishonor me or what I stand for.” “You’ve been talking about allies and cooperation since we met you, and this is the best way you can think of to settle an argument?” Gallara asked. “No. Absolutely not.” Alakshi’s face was as though carved from stone, yet the look in her eyes and the hard line of her mouth spoke of great sorrow – and an incredible danger that Jorang had never seen before, in her or in anyone else. She said nothing, and she neither backed down nor stepped forward.
In the world outside his head, a map lay spread out in the middle of their breakfast table, courtesy of the clergy. “Okay, is anyone familiar with this area?” Gallara was already asking. “Thish ish my firsh tum out thish way,” Alakshi globbed through a mouthful of breakfast. “It is mine, as well,” Jorang answered, moving the bare minimum number of muscles necessary to eat. Gallara grunted, either not noticing or not caring that Prax was eating out of her bowl. “I’ve only been to this city a few times, and I’ve never left in the direction we’re going. Zedenko Halivan, what about you?"
album cover for Tori Amos' To Venus and Back
He put the thought aside as he returned to the lobby. The large, green-eyed man who had directed him to Coleratt’s office now watched his return with obvious contempt, but said nothing. Perhaps he had overheard Jorang’s discussion with Coleratt - yet the scorn in his expression seemed to be for both of them. “Sir, I apologize for the way I spoke to your sergeant a moment a-” “I genuinely don’t care,” the green-eyed man said, “about the sergeant or about what you said. You can leave now.” Jorang was untroubled by the man’s lack of respect, and recognized that it would be without benefit to challenge the man on his behavior. Instead, he pursued his intended goal. “Where can I find representatives of the church of Renai in this city?” The clerk’s voice remained disdainful. “In the southern quadrant of the east side. Take a left as you leave, pass three blocks, then turn right at the hippogriff milk vendor and go straight until you get there. Think you can remember all that?” It was as if the clerk fully expected his every word to be followed to the finest detail, as though he were a superior officer giving orders. Yet that would not change the reliability of the directions he gave. Had be not been a constable, however, Jorang would have made him tea. “Thank you.” He saw no need to say more.
“It’s okay! You don’t have to be embarrassed!” According to Alakshi, anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “No, no, I …” Gallara looked up from the ground and saw total sincerity in Alakshi’s face. Sincerity and concern. She tried really, really hard to believe it, without knowing why. “Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, waiting for the knots in her stomach and neck to loosen. “It’s just me. I get embarrassed easily.” Because she did stupid things easily. “That’s okay, too! I’ve felt out of my depth ever since I left home. It’s … it’s been nice having you as a friend.” Alakshi kind of smiled, and also kind of looked away. Wait, what? They were already friends? Really? Why would Alakshi want to be friends with her? The idea of being that close to another person made Gallara’s heart rate double all over again. Didn’t she get any say in this?
Kolent. It wasn’t a magic word. It was something’s name. Alakshi sighed, turned to face everyone, and gestured at her special friend. “Everyone, this is Kolent. And he’s none of your business.” Oh, Kolent was a he. Gallara gaped, barely realizing she was doing it and honestly not giving a crap. Other than having blue skin streaked with random gnarled ridges, a furrowed bald scalp, no visible nose, at least five eyes over what looked like a twitching circle of inward-pointing beetle legs, two arms so long that its three-fingered hands reached almost all the way to the ground, two more just-as-long arms that ended in thick bony spikes instead of hands, and two more eyes almost the size of Gallara’s head set into its figging shoulders, the thing probably could have passed for elven, if elves were normally twice as tall as Alakshi. It wore nothing but battered trousers and unpleasant amounts of muscle. That was Kolent.
The Will, from Saga
“The Unknown Sinner stood before the temple of the Many, but never tried to enter. Maybe they didn’t feel worthy, or maybe the Many itself prevented them, but the clergy swore on their service that none of them intentionally kept the Sinner out. Instead, the Sinner only stood there, arms upraised before them, as if begging forgiveness for sins no one else knew of. They said nothing, and they did nothing, not even acknowledging the crowd that formed around them as the hours and days grew long. There they stayed in the heat of the day and in the cold of the night. They never moved, not an inch, not even letting their arms sink the slightest bit as they grew weary. “On the fourth day, the Sinner died. Their corpse remained standing, though, with its arms still raised in supplication, and no one dared to touch it - not even dogs or birds. Over weeks and months, time and weather stripped their flesh where they stood, and still the Unknown Sinner remained in place as they slowly decayed. Hundreds of years later, their skeleton still stands in front of the temple, its arms raised exactly as they were on the first day. “I’ve seen it myself, Seff, back in the military, when my regiment passed through that city.”
Even at the edge of the forest, the trees were stupidly huge; the canopy shut out most of the light, and some spaces between trees were smaller than the trunks themselves. The darkness intermingled with enough light that it wouldn’t let his darting eyes adjust all the way, leaving pockets of problematic shadow for hostile things to hide in. The far-off cacophony of forest creatures could hide a slithering hiss or turn into an aggressive roar at any second if he wasn’t quick to parse the differences in every sound. Everything already felt like it was closing in on him, with some dangerous, nasty thing lurking just out of his immediate perception. So really, it wasn’t any different from the rest of his life.
Cole thought he should have felt like a scolded little boy, but something about Rhett’s even tone and his firm but gentle grip felt supportive instead of threatening. “My dad and my uncles and the guys at school, and especially on my hockey team, and the - Oh my god, they were all shitheads. Every fucking one of them! Well, my buddy Jack was a good guy, except for that part, but his dad was just like mine. Oh my god …”
When I got home, my aunt Brelda walked out of the kitchen and said, “Oh, there you are, Seff. What took you so -” and then stopped as she noticed the guy. She blushed a little, then said, “Good day, sir. What’s your business with our Seff?” “Good day, madam. I wanted to offer her employment,” he said, just as politely as anyone could, and smiled despite the smell of fermenting grain that always filled the house. “The young miss said I should talk to her parents. Are you her mother, or her sister?” Aunt Brelda blushed more than a little and looked away, fingering her apron and murmuring, “Uh, aunt. I, ah, I’ll go fetch the rest of the family,” before dashing out of the room.
“That’s awful. We are truly sorry,” Holy Crapbucket Lusad said; it seemed like he actually kind of meant it – kind of – but it was too little, too late. “Initiate Kaiudin, please give us your report. Once the official channels are satisfied,” he added, looking at Alakshi as if what she had just said didn’t matter, “you will all have a chance to explain what happened.” “What happened is I was coughing up blood!” Alakshi raged, slamming her hands onto the table, and the image flashed through Gallara’s memory with painful clarity. “Every rib I have was sticking through my lungs! You said there could be some monsters in there, but you said they wouldn’t be -” “Alakshi, please be calm,” Jorang said simply. “We will all have a chance to -” “She gets her chance first!” Gallara shot back, wheeling on Jorang with the edge of her raw temper almost breaking through; anxiety surged up her spine and she suddenly wanted to hide, but she forced her anger to keep her where she was. “Jorang, you did as well as any one person could, but the priests should have sent a damn army.” Alakshi deserved to have someone finally do right by her, damn it. Even if that meant facing that terrifying calm in Jorang’s eyes, and staring right back at him and refusing to give an inch.
“Another acquaintance of yours?” Lusad asked unnecessarily. “How fortunate. Introductions won’t be necessary, then, and your expedition will begin as a community rather than as strangers. Perhaps this meeting was meant to be.” “Then somebody’s got a sick sense of humor,” Gallara groused under her breath.
“You can just call me Paul,” he said mildly as he shook with her. She nodded, still smiling. “And I’m Inez. It’s nice when a new member hasn’t let the hero thing go to their head. Come on, I’ll show you around.” Miz Inviz - Inez - headed toward an especially grand staircase, then glanced back at him and asked, “I don’t want to assume: are you okay taking the stairs? There are plenty of elevators, too.” Paul smiled. “Thanks for asking. Stairs are fine.” And he could levitate himself if he needed to.
Alakshi put down her second mug, empty, and burped with her mouth closed. “Because of the flower? What’s so important about it?” Gallara took another sip; letting herself absorb the perfected flavor gave her enough time to compose herself a little. Then she said, “It’s supposed to be extinct, and it’s supposedly good for so many things that it might be magical in its own right. If I could find it and get it to grow in my own garden, I could figure out just how useful it really is and how much of it is myth. Taking something out of actual legend and really studying it – which other plants it might be related to, what it grows best with and what it complements, how to cross-pollinate it with other things, what I could hybridize it with, maybe what different kinds of soil I can modify with it – that one species alone would keep me busy for years, and my career as a botanist would be made.”
It wasn’t midday yet, but he felt like eating something other than the dried fruit and nuts in his knapsack - no telling when he’d get another chance. Besides, Oasis City was new to him, and he needed directions. The Cheese Barrel looked like a decent enough pub, unless the smell proved too much. Well, one way to find out. He walked in and up to the counter, making sure nothing blocked his path back out the door in case he needed to disappear, and opened with “Hi. Do you sell cheese here?” The frame on the window in the far corner was loose enough to pry open without making much noise, and the upstairs room with the valuables in it was probably behind the locked wooden door he could see in the back room; the style and quality of the lock would take him almost no time at all to pick. There was a bobble-headed figurine on the counter of a gnome version of the Many’s saint of commerce, next to a little altar to the god of crafters and makers; they were both carved out of wood with no particular skill, and wouldn’t be worth the effort of stealing. The burly human eyeing Zedenko and giving the bartender questioning looks from the far side of the bar moved like an overstuffed couch and would give up a chase after two blocks at most. Still, there could be dangers Zedenko hadn’t recognized yet.
Drohim went on, “She wouldn’t be able to visit you very often, but we could -” Both my parents nodded so fast that it must have given them neck pain. “It’s fine! We can work out the details, but we’re so proud of her!” They were taking this awfully well. A little too well, honestly. They didn’t even seem sad that their oldest surviving child would be leaving their home for the first time, and probably forever. As much as I felt like grinning at the idea of getting out of the distillery, my stomach clenched at how eager to be rid of me they seemed. It took me another year or so before I realized that they were probably just relieved to have one less mouth to feed; I did feel a little better when I figured that out. Maybe they’d even wanted me to have a better life than what they could give me. On that last afternoon at home, though, I could feel my heart getting heavy and cold as they beamed at Drohim and occasionally at me.
He caught himself and slowed to a more academic pace just before he got to Ladrint’s open door. Hoping the travel dust that still clung to his clothes would lend him credibility instead of making him look like a jerk, he turned into the doorway and smiled. “Hello, Professor Ladrint?” Standing up from a wide oak desk about a foot high was a woman the size and shape of a coconut. Her shock of blue hair stood straight up from her head, her eyelashes stood out farther than her elbows, and two pairs of feathered wings that matched her hair extended through the back of her orange robe. Faeries didn’t have feathery wings; she must have been a nixie or sprite or some other related fay race.
Just before he and his allies set forth, a sound of motion came from the branch on the right. The movement patterns were familiar, and Jorang heard bated but aggressive breath tinged with hunger and blood lust. He focused on the scent, and recognized that of baelgs. Jorang had taken more than enough notice as a child. As he had grown, he had taught himself not impose his presence on others or draw attention when it was not necessary. Now, however, communicating relevant information would serve a useful function. Here was a chance to prove his worth to his companions. Jorang tapped Gallara’s shoulder, and motioned for her to do the same to Zedenko before he continued too far down the stairs. They both stopped and looked back at him, and Alakshi and Kolent halted behind him without being told. Jorang made the signal for an ambush. “Is that sign language or something?” Gallara asked, far too loudly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” “Ambush,” Jorang said, keeping his voice appropriately low, and indicated the hall on the right. Another man may have been annoyed, but his own serenity was untouched.
What the hell was causing this? I looked around frantically, and saw no one else in the streets at all. Then my mind flashed back to Kevra, the woman who’d ordered us to leave Town Trek Travel, and I caught sight of her crimson dress in the building’s darkened window. I tried to fight down my rage enough to think clearly and move precisely as I grabbed Hammer-Head’s hand axe off the ground, switching my sword to my left hand. I thanked the Many that Drohim wasn’t in my way as I raced a few screaming steps forward and threw the axe as hard as I could; spinning end over end, it shattered the window, and I heard Kevra cry out as the blade tore into her chest. “Drohim!” I screamed, turning back to him and pointing. “The woman from Town Trek was doing this! She’s in there!” He didn’t even point out that I’d already made it obvious, and started walking for the building. “She has a great deal to answer for.” The animated corpses behind me had gone limp. I ran to Town Trek’s door and grabbed the latch, but I could feel it was solidly bolted shut from the inside. Fine, I would take the window, then. Drohim was already headed for it, glowing halberd held in front of him; I could see Kevra lying on the ground, writhing and coughing up blood as she struggled more and more weakly to pull the axe out of her ribcage.
“I told you, we’re safe here.” Taking the time to swallow helped me say, “I remember, sir,” instead of “I know.” “Seff,” he said, a little more pointedly, “the last priest who tried to harm us is dead. I killed him myself.” “I remember, sir,” I repeated, setting my bowl down, “but I don’t think you’re in the same physical condition you were -” “They know it, Seff.” Drohim looked at me very seriously. “Do you think the temples don’t send word when one of their own has died, much less been murdered?” I honestly hadn’t seen any reason why they would bother, but I could also imagine them thinking it was important. Then I realized he was giving me a second to put the pieces together for myself: “That means … they also know who did it, and why. And sir, it wasn’t murder.” “No, it wasn’t. Do you think the Many would tolerate one of its Blades killing one of its own priests?” Oh, I saw where he was going with this. “So the fact that you’re alive and benefiting from their prayers - and probably the fact that you’re still able to wear your pendant without it burning you or something - says you have the Many’s approval for what you did, so the priests here had better not mess with you. It’s … it’s as good as any divine message. Wow.” “Yes.” Drohim heaved a deep sigh and sank into his cot, looking exhausted again. “So you can stop worrying.”
“I’m sorry!” Gallara brayed, the words wrenching out of her like a too-deep root being torn from dry ground. “I want to say I’m sorry!” She forced herself to breathe, despite her better judgment, trying to remember what she’d come up with and edited and brooded on and practiced on the dead quail all afternoon and it was already falling apart because Gallara was a figging moron. She did her best to look at Alakshi. “Please. I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t really value you, and especially not if I didn’t mean it. And … and even if you hate me and never say another word to me, I still need to tell you. I just need you to know it.” Ugh, it was still about what she needed, wasn’t it? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Alakshi wasn’t saying anything, and it was too dark to see what her expression was doing. Fighting every instinct that screamed for her to just run, Gallara forced herself to plant her feet. “You … Agh! You’ve seen how much I suck with people, all right? I say stupid crap that I shouldn’t, and that’s my fault, and now I’ve pushed away someone I really care about. I know how much I hurt you when I said what I said, and I know why it hurt, and you didn’t deserve that, especially after everything you’d just told me and that we’ve done together. It’s not just that I said something I shouldn’t have, it’s that I would even think to say it. That’s my fault, too. You’re a better, braver person than anyone I’ve ever met, and you deserve a better friend than me. You deserve someone who sees you for who you really are and you don’t always have to worry what they could be thinking.”
“All right.” I took a deep breath of my own, trying to think what should come next. “In the meantime, I’ll keep looking. I’m thinking that if I ask around with rich people’s servants around here, I could -” “Seff.” I stopped short. “Yes, sir?” He closed his eyes again, still smiling. “Get some sleep.” Okay, that was probably a good idea. As much as I wanted to - “I mean it.” My thoughts halted for a second, and then I couldn’t help but chuckle. He really was right. “Yes, sir.” With effort, I forced myself out of my chair, then dragged one of the cots next to his like I’d thought about doing before. I barely hauled myself onto it and adjusted my sword before I was asleep.
A manga-style picture of a fully-clothed AFAB person passionately declaring, "There's no such thing as one who doesn't need porn!! Me, you, the human race - we are all HUGE *PORN* LOVERS!"
“But yeah, now that she’s gone, it’s just me and Kolent anyway, and he’s so protective. It’s because he’s an amazing friend, but I don’t think he realizes that it makes it hard to be my own person, too. I mean, I’ve only started realizing it in the past few months. And now I’m trying to learn to rely on myself instead of just him – I mean, how can I really be sure I love him, when it might just be dependence? – but I barely know what I’m doing.”
Rilben veered sharply to the left side of the library, toward the hanging sign that read, “Outsider-ese.” The sign on the right side of the library was written in Calderan. Well, probably Calderan - she couldn’t actually read it - but it seemed like a pretty safe assumption. “Right over here.” Rilben slid a book from a shelf - it was easy to see, because its cover was green when all the other books were a nondescript brown - and cradled it in his arms as he walked back; he started to hold it out to her, but balked almost immediately. “This is one of the most valuable books in this library,” he told her, in a voice like the first storm of winter. “Just by itself, it cost me half my quarterly acquisition allowance twelve years ago. It’s not leaving this room, and your hands had better be clean.” Gallara held her hands up to Rilben; she flicked her finger, but no additional dirt came off, just like she’d feared. Still, they weren’t bad. “Check under my fingernails, if you like.” Rather to her surprise, Rilben did. “Hmmm, yeah, okay.” He handed her the book. “And you,” he told Prax, “just let her handle it, okay?” Prax gurgled back indignantly.
“Here’s to a simple trip,” she announced to her companions as they rode out through the city gate. “All this adventure crap is not what botanists are supposed to do. Brave and loyal gardeners, maybe, but not botanists.” Alakshi chuckled, Zedenko looked pensive and distant, and Jorang shook his head. “My ally,” he corrected her, “you are much more than a botanist.” Before she could catch herself, Gallara’s response rose in her mouth – and she realized that she didn’t have a response. Where there should have been an awkward deflection, or maybe an irate comeback, she found that she had no idea what to say. Coming from a stone-cold ass-kicker like him, it was pretty flattering. But he’d never tasted the fruit cultivars that she’d been creating since she was a little kid, or seen the weed-resistant garden layouts she’d designed or specialized irrigation networks she’d engineered. He’d never smelled her meticulously-blended flower beds or used the specialized fertilizers she’d invented or taken a nap in the extra-soft grass she’d developed. And he still told her that all she’d accomplished wasn’t what made her who she was. It was as if her life’s work, her passion, didn’t even exist to him. And with all the mystery about the guy who had messed with her book, and the ass-clenching nightmares of chopping off baelgs’ hands an instant before they ripped her throat out, and her friend getting hurt so figging badly, and stepping in guts and honestly not even feeling anything about it anymore … she didn’t want to be more than a botanist. And it shouldn’t be up to him to decide that she was.
After talking to mostly Drohim for two years, I could tell it would take me a while to get used to Rhugada’s informality. It felt weird, yeah, but it was also kind of refreshing. Maybe it was just nice to be surprised by something that wasn’t horrifying. I winced - that made too much sense. The last time I’d woken up, someone had just tried to kill me. The time I’d woken up before that, someone had very nearly killed me, and I still had scars and rotting muscle from it. And the time before that, I’d just broken out of a constabulary and passed out on the road. All those thoughts about whether or not to be a Blade came back in a rush, and they didn’t stop until long after Drohim and Rhugada woke up.