seven shields, the child's fury, and the sea

oh I NEED to sit down and really brainstorm the nuances of the FS magic system I have a fucking IDEA and I can’t write it properly until I sort all of the worldbuilding out I need to find like an ask game/question list specifically about making magic systems aaaa

it’s a very ritual+study based magic, like the idea is that with enough time anyone can learn it, but some people have more of an aptitude for it like any skill, and humans are less likely to study magic both for cultural reasons (it’s seen as the easy way out of hard work, since elves are seen by them as weak and cowardly, and most mages are elves) and biological reasons (can take like 200 years to learn something complex)

I’m going for something like, magic is more of a way of storing natural energy (captured dragon flame in a gem or lightning bound to a spear point kind of thing), or of physically realized prayer to the gods, and it can be used alongside regular medicine like to speed healing or alleviate side effects kind of thing, but I need to work out the details and more concrete restrictions still

I’m thinking it’ll be like, magic comes from the gods, so there’s an element of worship (whether that’s offerings or song or other ritual), which anyone can do, but it doesn’t become magic until one studies how to focus that divine attention, which is where the study comes in. like I’m imagining some elf spending a century on the equivalent of a phd thesis trying to work out the nuances of translating a dead language and testing what species of bird’s bones work best for their particular spell of interest. I think more elves can like, casually do basic magic, like “lmao yeah I spent three decades learning how to light a candle or stop poison ivy from itching and I’ve no interest in learning more”

idk I have more ideas I’ll get to them later. I need to figure out details still

honestly it's so funny that maithyr is younger than leithe

like the other way around feels even weirder but tbh i don't even think of maithyr as like, having an age at all most of the time, like the guy just exists. or, well, used to, i guess

"maithyr died at around 400, at which time idhren was roughly 500 and leithe just over 450. linna was a few years younger than maithyr and died 16 years before him. leithe died at around 660, idhren is around 715 at the start of book 1" are all true statements but also consider, i don't conceptualize things like that, it's 90% just vibes for me

the one exception is that therien is 17 years old at the start of book 1. this is mentioned many times. and also she acts very 17 years old. feral anxious little shit my beloved

another Feeling Weird And Icky About My Writing kind of mood which I realize is just overthinking and will as usual go away if I force myself to put it out there

does anyone want a link to read my first two chapters

okay yeah. putting these up for now

chapter one

chapter two

another Feeling Weird And Icky About My Writing kind of mood which I realize is just overthinking and will as usual go away if I force myself to put it out there

does anyone want a link to read my first two chapters

if anybody’s curious I got <4 hours of sleep myself and will be working on this today :)

1 of 5 (+1)

(you might recognize this as just a slightly-altered version of the notes app scene I posted recently, and like, yeah, I make no claims that this is particularly close to my best-quality writing. that's not the point these are just my silly little self-indulgent scenes)

“Because—and that’s another thing, I know she agreed, but you can’t convince me that anyone with that strong of ties to Lauthein’s merchant class would agree with that genuinely, it’s not like she’d—“ Leithe cut herself short and let her hands fall back to her lap. She’d been gesturing rather dramatically with them as she spoke—again.

“Are you alright? Did that hurt?”

“No,” she said, with something just short of a laugh, and pulled her shawl closer around her. “Sorry, I don’t mean to—you offered to help, and I can’t seem to let you. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

He did laugh, then, because he couldn’t imagine it being something to apologize for. “I don’t mind.”

2 of 5 (+1)

second one in a day, this one's before they're a couple, and taken from an older draft that I'd kind of forgotten about. I have one more in progress, but it'll be a bit slower from here since I'm working and also dealing with car troubles :/

“You know what? I’m sure I can get home, I don’t want to impose.” Leithe took a step backwards. The rain was only worsening, and she certainly couldn’t ask a friend to stay out in it: she didn’t particularly want to be out in it herself. “The guesthouses aren’t that far, and since I’m technically here on official business, no one would complain—”

But that was the catch, wasn’t it? Emissaries and guests of Lairnil’s viscountcy were known to complain of quarters that were…less than expected, to put it nicely. The city’s rapid growth was nipping at the heels of the finer districts these days. While Leithe paid no mind to complaints that were no more than polite variations of “I’d rather the ordinary folk exist where I can’t see them,” she also didn’t want to walk the crowded, muddied streets during such a downpour.

For a moment, Idhren seemed to consider offering his coat—thankfully he didn’t, damn the man and his relentless politeness. “I’d feel awful if I let you walk all the way there. It isn’t any trouble, I promise—I’ll take the sofa, even.”

3 of 5 (+1)

Leithe's horse is loosely based on a mare I remember (mostly) fondly from my years of lesson barns. this one's also just an extended version (of that scene i wrote a few days ago, so at least i'm doing something new) but in my defense. look at them they're so weird and perfect

“I’m told an escort is required. Again. You’d think they’d trust me by now, or at least care less for my safety, without my title.” Leithe’s tone made clear what she thought of that. “—What? Don’t tell me you agree with them?”

It was apparent that she had seen something in Idhren’s expression that he hadn’t meant to be there. He tapped his pen against the side of the inkwell, marking down a few more counts in the correct column and checking them against the records he had brought from the Thiamal’s archives. The capital’s archives were quite extensive, though they were less carefully maintained than those he typically used in Linador.

“The roads haven’t been this safe in half a century,” Leithe continued. “It’s Vailra, not a trip to fucking Ilgost.”

“It’s less about the roads, and more about the snakes alongside them—or the brush-birds, if one of those takes flight under your horse’s nose I worry that in her fright she’d try to follow.”

4 of 5 (+1)

This one wasn't actually supposed to be as angsty as this I promise... But someone just really wanted to have a whole depressing internal monologue near the end there. Which certainly isn't me projecting in any way dw about it

“Did you think I’d just let you run off again, the instant you got back? It’s been months, and you haven’t even let me greet you properly.” Leithe set a cup of tea on one of the few bare spots of his desk, the steam rising from it visible in the dim light of the mirrored lantern set nearby. “At least drink something warm, for the headache I’m certain you’re being too stubborn to mention.”

Idhren wished she’d keep her voice down, but despite the ache in his temples—yes, she was right, as usual—his tense posture loosened a bit as she set a hand on his back.

“What the hell sort of work is this important anyway?”

Ah, but she knew it wasn’t about the work, just as he did. She was far kinder than he deserved, and so she let him pretend for a little longer.

“Let it wait until morning, let yourself rest for once, will you? The weather’s been awful.”

He turned aside to cough into a handkerchief. “Yes, I’d noticed.” He left the first part of her comment go unanswered, because it was a conversation they wouldn’t me having if she didn’t already guess what his answer would be.

5 of 5 (+1)

I don’t have as much to say about this one, I think, other than that I fucking love Hal and should write him more tbh. Also that I needed to get something brief and light written for this one, because the last one is going to be A Lot :)

Hal had no complaint with his current status. Quite the opposite, really: as things had begun to fall into place, after the chaos of Tarnuvin’s founding, his own place among all of it had come together as well. Honestly, it was a better one than he could’ve hoped for.

His rank was lower than it had been in Ngelorim—not that it mattered, for as differently as Tarnuvin’s Watch was structured from a traditional army, and because he quite preferred a lower rank.

Hal had exactly no interest in climbing ranks in search of some pretentious, medalled career. Second-officer of a Watch division came with just enough work to keep it interesting, without all the ridiculous pretense and pageantry of higher officers’ duties to their court and lord. No thank you, Hal was content to let other officers progress past him if it meant he could avoid attending weekly reports in stuffy ceremonial armor or scripted meetings with foreign dignitaries. He’d much rather have the drudgery of working the newly built watch-posts, ironing out the shift assignments, clearing undergrowth to afford a better view of the river.

Though, that being said, Hal was realizing that his Captain was much the same sort, only a bit worse at declining promotions he didn’t want.

6 of 5 (+1)

okay here's the +1 with the roles switched...it's the longest by far, and also OW this one hits. I had a piece of dialogue for it saved for months and I'm glad to finally be able to do something with it, but also, again- ow :( anyways i'm going to compile these properly tomorrow, since it'll be a full month since I was gifted the art that inspired this fun little project

The final year before Nar-thelyr’s abandonment passed just the same as the aftermath of any great loss: slowly, as if time itself seemed reluctant to move on from the death-tainted victory, and at the same time unsettlingly quick, when looked back upon, as all the days seemed to blur together, indistinguishable under the weight of the mountains’ piercing chill and the ache in his heart and his bones.

And Leithe—beloved, sun-bright, stubborn Leithe—had been there for as much of it as she could, departing from Tarnuvin alone as soon as she’d grown suspicious of the reassurances in his letters. She was something real to take hold of, like laying with the warm unmovable earth at one’s back, like a melody worked so deep that it melds inextricably with the mind and the hands. Like a sailor’s guiding star, too bright to be hidden by even the cruelest storm.

It would’ve been sometime in the fourth month, Idhren thought (because Tathran had just dismissed the last of Maithyr’s officers, because when he had thrown their severance pay requests on Idhren’s desk and demanded he sign them, Idhren had been staring at his books and thinking of a Silornic spring festival they’d just passed uncelebrated for the first year in centuries). Yes, four months, since Leithe had begun her correspondence with Hal and his wife, had set in motion their move to Tarnuvin’s officers’ quarters—together—and begun talking of shared bookshelves and teacups and quiet nights by the fire, to force a bit of her unyielding sunniness into him and give him something to look forward to when all the world seemed an inescapable deluge, constant reminders of loss, when his mind and body both seemed nothing more than a festering wound.

hm. realized recently that i'm gonna have to make some more changes to the fractured shield outline again

(this is not a bad thing i actually really like feeling like i have like...idk a clear enough vision of what i want it to be to know changes need to be made)

but anyways like

if anybody’s curious I got <4 hours of sleep myself and will be working on this today :)

1 of 5 (+1)

(you might recognize this as just a slightly-altered version of the notes app scene I posted recently, and like, yeah, I make no claims that this is particularly close to my best-quality writing. that's not the point these are just my silly little self-indulgent scenes)

“Because—and that’s another thing, I know she agreed, but you can’t convince me that anyone with that strong of ties to Lauthein’s merchant class would agree with that genuinely, it’s not like she’d—“ Leithe cut herself short and let her hands fall back to her lap. She’d been gesturing rather dramatically with them as she spoke—again.

“Are you alright? Did that hurt?”

“No,” she said, with something just short of a laugh, and pulled her shawl closer around her. “Sorry, I don’t mean to—you offered to help, and I can’t seem to let you. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

He did laugh, then, because he couldn’t imagine it being something to apologize for. “I don’t mind.”

2 of 5 (+1)

second one in a day, this one's before they're a couple, and taken from an older draft that I'd kind of forgotten about. I have one more in progress, but it'll be a bit slower from here since I'm working and also dealing with car troubles :/

“You know what? I’m sure I can get home, I don’t want to impose.” Leithe took a step backwards. The rain was only worsening, and she certainly couldn’t ask a friend to stay out in it: she didn’t particularly want to be out in it herself. “The guesthouses aren’t that far, and since I’m technically here on official business, no one would complain—”

But that was the catch, wasn’t it? Emissaries and guests of Lairnil’s viscountcy were known to complain of quarters that were…less than expected, to put it nicely. The city’s rapid growth was nipping at the heels of the finer districts these days. While Leithe paid no mind to complaints that were no more than polite variations of “I’d rather the ordinary folk exist where I can’t see them,” she also didn’t want to walk the crowded, muddied streets during such a downpour.

For a moment, Idhren seemed to consider offering his coat—thankfully he didn’t, damn the man and his relentless politeness. “I’d feel awful if I let you walk all the way there. It isn’t any trouble, I promise—I’ll take the sofa, even.”

3 of 5 (+1)

Leithe's horse is loosely based on a mare I remember (mostly) fondly from my years of lesson barns. this one's also just an extended version (of that scene i wrote a few days ago, so at least i'm doing something new) but in my defense. look at them they're so weird and perfect

“I’m told an escort is required. Again. You’d think they’d trust me by now, or at least care less for my safety, without my title.” Leithe’s tone made clear what she thought of that. “—What? Don’t tell me you agree with them?”

It was apparent that she had seen something in Idhren’s expression that he hadn’t meant to be there. He tapped his pen against the side of the inkwell, marking down a few more counts in the correct column and checking them against the records he had brought from the Thiamal’s archives. The capital’s archives were quite extensive, though they were less carefully maintained than those he typically used in Linador.

“The roads haven’t been this safe in half a century,” Leithe continued. “It’s Vailra, not a trip to fucking Ilgost.”

“It’s less about the roads, and more about the snakes alongside them—or the brush-birds, if one of those takes flight under your horse’s nose I worry that in her fright she’d try to follow.”

4 of 5 (+1)

This one wasn't actually supposed to be as angsty as this I promise... But someone just really wanted to have a whole depressing internal monologue near the end there. Which certainly isn't me projecting in any way dw about it

“Did you think I’d just let you run off again, the instant you got back? It’s been months, and you haven’t even let me greet you properly.” Leithe set a cup of tea on one of the few bare spots of his desk, the steam rising from it visible in the dim light of the mirrored lantern set nearby. “At least drink something warm, for the headache I’m certain you’re being too stubborn to mention.”

Idhren wished she’d keep her voice down, but despite the ache in his temples—yes, she was right, as usual—his tense posture loosened a bit as she set a hand on his back.

“What the hell sort of work is this important anyway?”

Ah, but she knew it wasn’t about the work, just as he did. She was far kinder than he deserved, and so she let him pretend for a little longer.

“Let it wait until morning, let yourself rest for once, will you? The weather’s been awful.”

He turned aside to cough into a handkerchief. “Yes, I’d noticed.” He left the first part of her comment go unanswered, because it was a conversation they wouldn’t me having if she didn’t already guess what his answer would be.

5 of 5 (+1)

I don’t have as much to say about this one, I think, other than that I fucking love Hal and should write him more tbh. Also that I needed to get something brief and light written for this one, because the last one is going to be A Lot :)

Hal had no complaint with his current status. Quite the opposite, really: as things had begun to fall into place, after the chaos of Tarnuvin’s founding, his own place among all of it had come together as well. Honestly, it was a better one than he could’ve hoped for.

His rank was lower than it had been in Ngelorim—not that it mattered, for as differently as Tarnuvin’s Watch was structured from a traditional army, and because he quite preferred a lower rank.

Hal had exactly no interest in climbing ranks in search of some pretentious, medalled career. Second-officer of a Watch division came with just enough work to keep it interesting, without all the ridiculous pretense and pageantry of higher officers’ duties to their court and lord. No thank you, Hal was content to let other officers progress past him if it meant he could avoid attending weekly reports in stuffy ceremonial armor or scripted meetings with foreign dignitaries. He’d much rather have the drudgery of working the newly built watch-posts, ironing out the shift assignments, clearing undergrowth to afford a better view of the river.

Though, that being said, Hal was realizing that his Captain was much the same sort, only a bit worse at declining promotions he didn’t want.

if anybody’s curious I got <4 hours of sleep myself and will be working on this today :)

1 of 5 (+1)

(you might recognize this as just a slightly-altered version of the notes app scene I posted recently, and like, yeah, I make no claims that this is particularly close to my best-quality writing. that's not the point these are just my silly little self-indulgent scenes)

“Because—and that’s another thing, I know she agreed, but you can’t convince me that anyone with that strong of ties to Lauthein’s merchant class would agree with that genuinely, it’s not like she’d—“ Leithe cut herself short and let her hands fall back to her lap. She’d been gesturing rather dramatically with them as she spoke—again.

“Are you alright? Did that hurt?”

“No,” she said, with something just short of a laugh, and pulled her shawl closer around her. “Sorry, I don’t mean to—you offered to help, and I can’t seem to let you. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

He did laugh, then, because he couldn’t imagine it being something to apologize for. “I don’t mind.”

2 of 5 (+1)

second one in a day, this one's before they're a couple, and taken from an older draft that I'd kind of forgotten about. I have one more in progress, but it'll be a bit slower from here since I'm working and also dealing with car troubles :/

“You know what? I’m sure I can get home, I don’t want to impose.” Leithe took a step backwards. The rain was only worsening, and she certainly couldn’t ask a friend to stay out in it: she didn’t particularly want to be out in it herself. “The guesthouses aren’t that far, and since I’m technically here on official business, no one would complain—”

But that was the catch, wasn’t it? Emissaries and guests of Lairnil’s viscountcy were known to complain of quarters that were…less than expected, to put it nicely. The city’s rapid growth was nipping at the heels of the finer districts these days. While Leithe paid no mind to complaints that were no more than polite variations of “I’d rather the ordinary folk exist where I can’t see them,” she also didn’t want to walk the crowded, muddied streets during such a downpour.

For a moment, Idhren seemed to consider offering his coat—thankfully he didn’t, damn the man and his relentless politeness. “I’d feel awful if I let you walk all the way there. It isn’t any trouble, I promise—I’ll take the sofa, even.”

3 of 5 (+1)

Leithe's horse is loosely based on a mare I remember (mostly) fondly from my years of lesson barns. this one's also just an extended version (of that scene i wrote a few days ago, so at least i'm doing something new) but in my defense. look at them they're so weird and perfect

“I’m told an escort is required. Again. You’d think they’d trust me by now, or at least care less for my safety, without my title.” Leithe’s tone made clear what she thought of that. “—What? Don’t tell me you agree with them?”

It was apparent that she had seen something in Idhren’s expression that he hadn’t meant to be there. He tapped his pen against the side of the inkwell, marking down a few more counts in the correct column and checking them against the records he had brought from the Thiamal’s archives. The capital’s archives were quite extensive, though they were less carefully maintained than those he typically used in Linador.

“The roads haven’t been this safe in half a century,” Leithe continued. “It’s Vailra, not a trip to fucking Ilgost.”

“It’s less about the roads, and more about the snakes alongside them—or the brush-birds, if one of those takes flight under your horse’s nose I worry that in her fright she’d try to follow.”

4 of 5 (+1)

This one wasn't actually supposed to be as angsty as this I promise... But someone just really wanted to have a whole depressing internal monologue near the end there. Which certainly isn't me projecting in any way dw about it

“Did you think I’d just let you run off again, the instant you got back? It’s been months, and you haven’t even let me greet you properly.” Leithe set a cup of tea on one of the few bare spots of his desk, the steam rising from it visible in the dim light of the mirrored lantern set nearby. “At least drink something warm, for the headache I’m certain you’re being too stubborn to mention.”

Idhren wished she’d keep her voice down, but despite the ache in his temples—yes, she was right, as usual—his tense posture loosened a bit as she set a hand on his back.

“What the hell sort of work is this important anyway?”

Ah, but she knew it wasn’t about the work, just as he did. She was far kinder than he deserved, and so she let him pretend for a little longer.

“Let it wait until morning, let yourself rest for once, will you? The weather’s been awful.”

He turned aside to cough into a handkerchief. “Yes, I’d noticed.” He left the first part of her comment go unanswered, because it was a conversation they wouldn’t me having if she didn’t already guess what his answer would be.