I finished Endwalker today so, please, have a bnnuy while I attempt to emotionally recover

OC-tober Day 4 - Medicine

So heads up for (the, like, five lol) people who might be familiar with Stonebreaker up to this point - there has been some adjusting/reshuffling of the characters to balance things out and help dig me out of this deep writer’s block. So… yeah, just roll with it!

In which Adiran is just relaxing in the one place he feels safe, only for that to all go out (or through) the window (1000 words).

CW for cheap, nasty alcohol.

Prompt is from @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober list!

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There were very few places Adiran felt were truly his own. The palace belonged to his parents. The city to the people. The training grounds to the soldiers. The gardens were close, but there were always people passing by. Servants whispering as they walked. Gardeners clipping branches and tending to new blooms.

But Adiran’s private rooms? His bedroom, his bath, and the spacious entry for relaxing and receiving guests? Those were his.

It was an unspoken thing, mostly. A person’s private quarters was their space away from the demands of the outside world. Even his mother and father had separate entry rooms and baths, connected by a central bedchamber. As it turned out, even Kings and Queens needed a break from each other. 

Which was what made it all the stranger when he heard a frantic tapping at his window. 

On the third floor.

OC-tober Day 3 - Duel

It seems I will be doing these very sporadically, but I managed to produce something! The prompt is from @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober list - thank you for putting it together!

Here we have Adiran finally in his element, and a bit of how Riin’s experiences with the prickly prince of Talvera have softened over time into something resembling mutual understanding. (996 words)

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There were a lot of things about Adiran that were ‘unideal’ for a Talveran noble. Over the years, Riin had come to know them one by one, as though the princeling was intentionally collecting them out of spite. He was brash and hot-headed, until he found himself at a ball or a celebration. Whenever he needed to be social, he retreated into himself, his perfectly tailored clothes a weak shield to deflect the worst of people’s judgement. When he was younger, he had endured his studies until the moment the bell tolled, then fled with his books and ink still scattered on the table, the work half-done. Alone in his rooms, he would read. About the histories he had abandoned just hours before under his tutor’s watchful gaze. About tactics and leaders and all the brilliant ways they had failed. He would thumb through plays - tragedies, comedies, dramas - until his eyes began to blur and the sun was a ghost at the horizon, translucent and pale. 

He hid the romances under his bed. Riin had asked which one was his favourite once. Adiran, his face bright red, had responded by avoiding him for an entire season.

All in all, Adiran was a series of contradictions. Quick-witted, but only when he chose to be. Compassionate, but only in certain company. Everything he felt, he felt too deeply. Everything he thought, he thought about too much.

But when Adiran dueled, he danced.