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General Cauthrien Headcanon

Cauthrien and the Civil War

Cauthrien and Appearance in Origins

Recent college graduate (in anthropology) writer, weaver, baker, Dragon Age fan, Dishonored lover, video game nerd. There's fic over at Ao3 under the same name. I live in Portland with my awesome boyfriend.

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“As author, I feel the crudeness of my style may be a little offensive to some, but hope my desire to afford general pleasure will excuse my defects.”
— The anonymous author of Lady Pokingham; or They All Do It: Giving an Account of her Luxurious Adventures, both before and after her Marriage with Lord Crim-Con, as published in the first issue of The Pearl in 1879.

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I take drabble requests! Just drop characters, a pairing, a situation into my Ask box. I'm best with Dragon Age prompts, but can also do Last Exile and some Digital Devil Saga, plus a few other bits and bobs.

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Things sometimes get smutty. I try to remember nsfw tags, but I don't always manage it, especially on drabble request posts.

4th February 2012

Post reblogged from serindrana with 9 notes

… a time… [Zalera, ffxii]

serindrana:

[For spicyshimmy, greytaliesin, and all the other ffxii fans following me. I wanted to write FFXII fic, but I haven’t played the game in far too long, and didn’t know if I could capture the characters. So instead, have some fic about an Esper! BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE RANDOM MINOR NPCS.

“Heretic scion who wrapped the world in dark energies, seeking to take the souls of all living things unto himself. Created in opposition to Emet-Selch, Angel of Truth, and scion of light. Originally tasked with the judging of men upon their deaths, his soul was tainted by the curses of those who raged against the heavens, and seizing one of the gods’ servants, a shamaness, as a hostage, he rebelled against his creators. Even now, in defeat, he clutches the shamaness to him in his right arm, and with the aid of her death-wail does he summon the soul of darkness to do his bidding.”

—Clan Primer Bio]

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There was a time it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

There was a time where this wasn’t what was right.

There was a time - but it is lost now in the shrouds of Mist that cover him when he sleeps, and her death wail when he wakes, the thrum and pound of battle, the shaking of the wind, the roaring of the heavens. And there was a time is not a thought, as such. It is a sound. An echo. Words are no longer words, and his throat - such as it is, made of bone and cloth and magic and ancient - makes no sound but laughs and howls. He holds no meaning beyond death. He holds no meaning but that which he made for himself.

The only knowledge he possesses, then: she is in his arms. She is of his arms. She wails and cries and screams, and he has at least given her the blissful partial peace of blindness, her eyes covered in fabric whose weave should have long ago unravelled. The Mist tugs at it relentlessly. He fights it away, a scraping, scratching, snarling animal protecting its young, its food, its home.

There was a time he took her in his arms and made her believe that they would win.

And there was a time when he betrayed her, just as he betrayed all the rest, and used her as a shield, as a tool, as a weapon. And now she is in his arms and of his arms, and he cannot let her go.

She screams, and the world trembles.

Tagged: final fantasy xiiffxiispicyshimmygreytaliesin

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