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iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-03-08 09:42 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-03-08 09:42 amget your words out { 2025 } yahtzee tracking
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iluvroadrunner6) wrote2025-03-08 09:42 am
SET #3: WORDS (SEVENS) (tristan)
why did love put a knife in my heart | fantasy girl gang | 900
Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.
Tristan Moore stares at the last line she has written and wills herself to believe it’s true. It’s probably fortunate that her husband won’t be staring her in the face as he processes her request, but she knows he will listen. He will do as he asks. He will protect their children as she throws their safety away. With so many unknowns laid out ahead of her, that her husband will keep their family safe is the one thing she can rely on.
She looks down at the blood spattered across her armor, and knows that as much as she would wish it, there is no other way.
Tristan seals the letter, placing it in the harness of one of the carrier birds and sending it off toward their home. She then moves to take another bird off its perch and sends another letter towards the sea. If she’s going to do this, betray everything she’s ever known, she’s going to need help. Raff will answer the call. She owes Tristan that much. Best to be prepared either way.
Caliphan’s voice echoes in her head as she makes her way down the stone stairs. Find out which one is the oracle and eliminate the spare. He’s made no bones about her defying him if she chooses another path. Part of her isn’t sure she can commit to what he asks of her, while what remains is simply screaming.
The problem is, she knows which is the spare. It’s easy to figure out if you spend any kind of time with the twins, which the Emperor hasn’t. What use has he for his half-siblings-in-law unless they’ve had some kind of vision of the future?
But Tristan knows. Tristan trained them both. Only one of them moves, not with anticipation but with a certainty of where the blows will come from. Never moving to block or dodge, but to place themselves elsewhere. It’s a subtle distinction few would notice, but there’s nothing Tristan knows better than combat. She can tell the difference.
Moving through the palace, she pauses outside one bedroom when she hears footsteps inside. Soon, the door opens and Oliver Tannenbaum slips out, tall and spindly, and meets her eyes with concern.
“Have you figured it out yet?”
He shakes his head. “No idea. Some kind of alchemy. I can’t figure out how he’s giving it to her. I handle all her food, and as far as I know, she’s been given no extra tinctures.”
Tristan’s eyes close. “Damn.”
“Why? Has he ordered something?” The tension in his voice gives away that if Tristan were anyone else, he would have her by the shoulders, shaking out answers. “Are you to kill her?”
“Not her.” Tristan’s jaw sets before she looks up at him again. “He wants me to determine which twin is the actual oracle and kill the other. Apparently, the ruse that they need each other and that the power resides between them is no longer working.”
Oliver’s face turns grave and she frowns.
“What? What do you know?”
“I’ve heard rumor that the court alchemist is working on a tincture. One that place the oracle into a state that will force a vision.”
Tristan doesn’t know enough about magic to do the math, but she knows enough about oracles to know that it isn’t ideal. “Isn’t that dangerous? Once the oracle speaks the prophecy, it becomes true.”
“I think the Emperor will take that risk, so long as he’s only asking about the truth of his enemies.”
Tristan’s eyes drop to the rug, staring at the intricate pattern beneath her as she weighs her options. She doesn’t have many. One, she kills the spare twin. Two, she steals both of them and tries to make her escape without the guards catching them. Three—
She’s not sure there’s an option three.
“Might I suggest you follow through with His Imperial Majesty’s request?” She can hear the remorse in his voice, but that doesn’t make his question any easier. Her eyes flash up, anger flaring as she meets his gaze.
“They’re children, Oliver.”
“And your children are the ones who will pay the price if you don’t, Tristan. It is a cold calculus, but we need time. Time to figure out what he’s done to Talia and how to reverse it. She is our only chance of deposing him.”
“Talia wouldn’t want us to kill one of them for her sake.” Even saying the words, Tristan can’t be entirely certain they’re true. The Empress had a certain amount of fondness for her half-siblings, but she could be as ruthless as they come when the moment called for it. Would she sacrifice a child if it would save her own life?
Oliver glances back at the door, and she could see the uncertainty in his expression. He knows Talia better than any of them. He’s loved her longer, kept her confidences. Tristan lets the silence grow between them, demanding that he find an answer despite the urge to beat it into him. Eventually he sighs, before turning back to her again.
“You’re right. But that doesn’t change that we need time, Tristan.”
Tristan nods before looking down at the blood on her armor again. If nothing else, it seems to strengthen her resolve with what needs to be done. “Then I’ll buy us time.”
this night ain't for the faint of heart | fantasy girl gang | 1100
Tristan changes out of her bloody armor before making her way to the twins, opting for something lighter and quieter than her usual breastplate. The leather armor adds speed to her step as she makes her way to the twins’ room and quietly lets herself in the door. They both look up in surprise from their chess board, blinking at her with wide eyes. She stares into their young faces, not even fifteen years-old, and she knows that killing either of them isn’t an option. It never could be.
“We need to leave.”
They both blink at her again, more surprise coloring their features, and she sighs.
“The two of you aren’t safe here any longer. We need to get you both away from the Emperor.”
“Tristan,” Kira begins cautiously, “are you sure about this?”
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” Saying it out loud feels infinitely harder, and possibly a little desperate. These children’s lives are in her hands. If she doesn’t know what she’s doing, then there’s no way they survive this.
“Do you?” Kira’s always been the more realistic of the two. It makes sense that she’s the one questioning Tristan now. “Because what you’re suggesting sounds a lot like treason. And trust me, while I’m not exactly opposed, I want to make sure you know what it means for you.”
“I don’t care.” That’s wrong, she cares. But she doesn’t care enough to override what she feels she needs to do here. “The new Emperor, he’s … it’s not the same. And I can’t let him do to either of you what he did to Talia. What he plans to do to the Oracle once he finds out who they are.”
“He doesn’t know,” Asheron protests, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “That’s what this whole charade has been for this entire time.”
“Yeah, and he’s gotten impatient. He’s ordered me to determine which one of you is the Oracle and execute the other.”
Both children go still, trying to process that information. Kira comes out of it first, and Tristan recognizes the look on her face from their training: calculating and looking for angles of escape or flaws in the existing plan. “How does that get him what he wants?”
“It eliminates another heir and allows him to foretell when his enemies are coming for him.”
“He should know that I won’t give him a single vision if he kills my sister.” Asheron’s anger is nearly palpable. He doesn’t hide the truth of him from her, now when it comes down to lives on the line. Or maybe he suspects that Tristan already knew the truth. “How will he know if he’s being told the truth?”
“Oliver Tannenbaum says he’s been cooking something up with the court alchemist. Something to increase the potency of your visions and not allow for any … subterfuge.”
Both their faces pale, and again, Kira snaps to attention first. “We have to go. We can’t allow him to have access to that kind of power.”
“No,”
“No?!” Kira turns on her brother with fury in her voice. “Alright, fine. At least let Tristan take you. I can stay here and play fake oracle instead.”
“No, that’s insane.” Tristan doesn’t know if she’ll be able to swing getting both of them out, but she knows for sure that if she leaves a decoy behind, it won’t end well for her. “He’ll kill you the second he finds out you’re the wrong twin.”
“He can’t. Then he has no leverage to bring Ash back. Besides, Ash has already seen how I die.”
Tristan’s feels that statement sink into her stomach like a stone. She doesn’t want him to make anything about Kira’s potential death true and she can feel herself holding her breath as Asheron opens his mouth to speak.
“I have. It’s not tonight. And Kira’s plan is the right one—” Kira’s fist rises into the air in victory before Asheron continues. “—but for the wrong twin.”
Kira wheels on her brother, eyes flashing with betrayal. “I can’t leave you here.”
“You have to.”
“You’re what he wants! If I leave, there will be no one here to protect you.”
“I’ll figure it out. But if you stay here, you die, and if you try to get both of us out, Tristan will.”
“I’m okay with that,” Tristan interjects, without even thinking twice. “That’s my job.”
“You have children,” he points out, and she shakes her head.
“I’m a soldier. That was always part of the deal.” She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Carver will take care of them. He’s already moving them somewhere safe so that the Emperor can’t find them when this is done.”
Asheron, however, does not seem convinced. “They still need you, and Kira is going to need you to get her somewhere safe so that she can disappear. Taking me will not help you.” Asheron glances between both of them, knowing that this is something neither of them want but what has to happen. There’s a moment where Tristan can see in his bearing that of his mother, the previous oracle, when she’s issuing a command. “You haven’t seen the future. I have. So will you trust I know what I’m doing, too?”
Tristan nods slowly, before stepping back and moving to watch the door. “I’ll be waiting at the door. Take some time to say goodbye, but we don’t have much.” Even as she eyes the hallway, she can still pick up the soft tones of their conversation from afar.
“We will be together again. We will find each other and we will have a life free of this place. But I need you to trust me and go with Tristan now, understand?”
“I don’t like this.”
“None of us do. But it is what must be.”
“Now you sound like Mom.”
“I better. I’m taking her place.”
Tristan’s heart clenches when she hears how Kira’s voice breaks as she continues. “You keep your necklace on you at all times, so I can reach you whenever I need to.”
“I will.”
“And you’ll be careful with how much you tell him.”
“I’ll try.”
Footsteps pick up in the hallway and Tristan tenses, a hand on her sword. “Kira, if we’re doing this, we have to go now.”
Kira breaks away from her brother, pulling on a cloak and some other necessities, before moving to stand next to Tristan. “Okay, okay. What’s the plan?”
Tristan takes a deep breath and nods as she pulls the young girl into the shadows. “Let’s go.”
it's a long way down to the bottom of the river | fantasy girl gang | 1,000
The servant corridor stretches off the side of the twins’ room, winding like a spiderweb throughout the inner walls of the palace. They are made for expedience, allowing servants to carry meals or other needed items throughout the palace more directly, but the Emperor has become insistent as of late that servants remain inconspicuous. The small globes of witch light increase in frequency the closer they get to a hub of activity, like the kitchen or the laundry rooms, and eventually they’re going to get caught.
“Run this by me again?” Kira asks again, trying to keep her voice low. Tristan doesn’t mind explaining herself again. It keeps them both focused, and ensures that Kira knows the plan, in case the two of them get separated.
“An old friend is waiting for us in the harbor. Her ship will provide us safe passage to another port so we can meet up with another old friend who will take your somewhere safe.” Tristan keeps her eyes straight ahead, pausing and listening at each of the invisible entrances. “What you do after that is up to you.” She lets that sink in, and when Kira’s expression spirals, Tristan draws the young girl back into the matter at hand. “Where’s our best exit?”
Tristan asks as though it’s one of their training sessions, and this isn’t a life-or-death escape. Kira calms, her expression relaxing as she searches for the answer.
“Probably the ballrooms.”
“Why?”
“This late into the evening, any parties or events have likely ended, giving the staff plenty of time to clean before they resume business in the morning. So, the rooms are likely dark and have plenty of doors to leave from.”
Tristan nods, considering, but as they head towards one of the narrow stairwells, looking to make their way down to the ballroom, they hear the gruff voice of one guard: “One twin has escaped. She may be still in the castle. Find her, now!”
“And there goes our hopes for a quiet exit.” Tristan draws her blade, before picking up speed and moving faster down the stairs. Her steps slow as they reach the entrance to the ballroom, taking in the obstacles ahead.
Darkness shrouds the ballroom, as Kira predicted, but a camphoric scent bursts through the air, as baubles of witch light appear hovering around the heads of the guards as they move to search the room. Tristan places a finger to her lips before pointing toward the balconies. All they have to do is get themselves over the edge and into the gardens without being noticed. Kira nods, falling in behind her on quiet steps and inching along the back wall.
Globules of light continue to float through the air, and the searching guards are keeping quiet, alert to any sounds of escape. Kira moves on cat’s feet, but even with the lighter leather travel armor Tristan wears, stealth isn’t her strong suit. Fighters like Tristan intend to plow through obstacles, not sneak around them, so it’s only a matter of time before her boot scuffs against the ballroom’s polished marble, and all the movement in the ballroom falls silent.
The witch light flies forward and illuminates both of their faces. Footsteps shuffle closer, and when the guards come into view, Tristan can’t help but tense. The guards know that Kira “escaped.” They haven’t realized yet that Tristan is the one who helped her.
“Captain,” one guard, Devon, says with a smile. “You found her. What a relief.”
Tristan looks back at them, before glancing over at Kira. Tristan knows that this is her men, but part of her that’s still loyal wars with itself as she tries to decide how to play this. These are her men. She trained them, worked with them. She thinks of nights shooting the shit in taverns and battlefields standing side by side. Tristan knows these men like she knows the back of her own hand, knows each of their names, and now knows that she’ll have to betray them in order to do what she thinks is right.
Tristan tries to ignore the betrayal in their eyes as she shifts her stance and lifts her sword. “No,” she says, “Not exactly.”
Tristan backhands Stephen, the guard closest to her, using the hilt of her sword for extra weight. He drops to the ground as Devon and Marianne, the third, get their swords up and charge. Tristan parries both their swords, losing track of Kira. All she can focus on are the blades in front of her. Two more slices push them back from her, when suddenly Stephen drops to a kneeling position. Kira’s face appears over his shoulder and Tristan lunges to stop her before the dagger comes down.
“No!”
A warring moment hangs between the two of them. They’re escaping, but Tristan won’t kill the people she’s betraying. Eventually, the teenager huffs in agreement, before flipping the dagger to the hilt and slamming that into his temple instead.
He stumbles forward, dazed, and the witch lights flicker. Kira arches an eyebrow before turning to bring her knee up against the man’s face. The ballroom plunges into darkness. Tristan slams a fist into Marianne’s face and the final guard drops.
There’s an exit. But she can also hear the rapidly approaching boots from more guards, looking to cut off their escape.
“Time to go.” Kira grabs the straps of Tristan’s armor, dragging her backwards towards the edge of the balcony.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Tristan finally asks. She knows she agreed to this exit, but she’s never been good with high jumps.
“I make jumps like this all the time.” Kira glances back at her with a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”
Tristan swallows, then nods. She takes a breath, then closing her eyes and preparing to haul herself over the side. “Yeah, okay. Three, two—”
She barely manages not to scream as Kira yanks her over the edge of the railing and into the darkness.
bury a friend, try to wake up | fantasy girl gang | 1,000
It’s a quick drop from the balcony to the ground, buffeted by some shrubbery that provides a prickly but safe landing. Tristan, unfortunately, is not graceful, and flails a bit in the dismount, landing in a heap on the ground, while Kira lands in a graceful tumble before pushing herself back up on her feet.
“Pull yourself together. We gotta go.”
“Sorry, not all of us can be acrobatic ballerinas.”
Shouts from the balcony above try to rouse another team of guards into the garden. Tristan pushes herself to her feet, scanning over the shadows of the garden.
“What’s our way out?”
She can see the moment she says it that Kira may not have an answer to that question—or maybe more that things have become real. They’ve reached the bounds of her knowledge based on her cloistered palace existence and she may know the answer.
“The maze?” Kira glances over to Tristan, the look on her face hoping for it being the right answer. “It’ll at least give us a place to hide.”
Not the best exit, but with boots slamming on the steps nearby, they have little choice. Tristan takes Kira by the arm and heads towards the hedges. “It’ll work for now.”
Darkness shrouds them as they weave their way through the high walls, trying to move as quietly as possible. Tristan’s grip on her arm loosens, but doesn’t completely go away, wanting to guide through the twists and turns of the maze without them getting lost. For a while, it appears they may get somewhere. If they can make it to the back wall, and can get over it, maybe they actually stand a chance.
Kira’s arm wrenches from Tristan’s grasp. Tristan whirls on her feet, drawing her sword when her eyes meet those responsible, and she freezes. She kicks herself for not seeing the shadows of the gryphon flying overhead, but how could she when everything is shadows?
A soft sound, a mix between a coo and a purr, emanates from Iris, and Kira also freezes, not sure what else to do. When being held by a gryphon, you don’t want to give them a reason to take flight.
“Captain.”
Tristan’s eyes float back to the rider sitting in the saddle and she faces her worst-case scenario.
“Sebastian.”
Sebastian Vale, Tristan’s latest protégé, is a problem. Not only because with human versus gryphon, a gryphon is far more likely to come out on top. Iris is one of the fastest in the fleet. She already has Kira in her grasp. But also, Sebastian is just a kid, barely old enough to be joining the guard, and one that Tristan both cares about deeply and knows all too well. Sebastian’s loyalty is just as strong as hers, and he will give his life for his orders and Tristan doesn’t think she can bring herself to kill him.
They’re sunk.
“Why are you trying to escape with one of the oracles?”
Tristan can’t help her smirk. “You always were a smart kid.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.” The conflict in his voice is evident. Tristan is his mentor, and she’s working against the Emperor. He’s being torn between two loyalties. Tristan knows the feeling all too well. She observes him as Sebastian slides down from his saddle, staying just within the shelter of Iris’s wings.
“Because she’s not actually an oracle. And if she remains in the palace, the Emperor will discover that and have her killed.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I know too much.” Kira twists ever so slightly, trying to get a glimpse at Sebastian’s face from where she’s held. “Because I know what’s really going on with the actual Empress, and because he can’t control Asheron if I’m here to protect him.”
Tristan takes the opening offered to her: “Kira doesn’t deserve to die for any of those things. I just want to protect her. Take her somewhere safe where the Emperor can’t find her.”
She studies Sebastian’s face, and while his voice is cold as he speaks, she can see the intense scrutiny. The weighing between what he’s been ordered to do and what his gut tells him is right.
“Is that worth what it will cost you?”
“Fuck you, Sebastian.” Kira struggles in earnest, trying to wriggle herself out of Iris’ grip. “Iris, put me down! I need him to ask that question to my face.”
“Kira.” Tristan’s tone admonishes her, but she doesn’t stop.
“No. He doesn’t get to imply that I shouldn’t get to live so that you can continue furthering your career. I’m a person, not some trophy that the Emperor keeps in his vault.”
“Iris, drop her.”
Obediently, the gryphon releases her, and Kira drops gracefully to the ground. She should run, but she doesn’t. Instead, she moves just past the edge of the beautiful gryphon, in all her gray-scale feathered glory, to stare defiantly at Sebastian from behind Tristan’s shoulder.
“Ask again what my life is worth.”
Sebastian meets her gaze, intense dark eyes boring into hers. Something flickers across his face when he finally looks away, turning his focus to his mentor. He squares his shoulders, and Tristan knows what her next move is going to have to be. “I can’t let you go.”
Tristan nods, taking a step closer, moving towards “I know.”
“And you will not allow Kira to return.”
“No, I can’t.”
“So you see, we are at an impasse.”
“We are. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“This.” Her fist comes up quickly, taking him by surprise when the hilt of her sword collides with the side of his head. He tries to recover, hand fumbling towards his sword, but she swings again quickly. Sebastian drops to the ground, unconscious.
Iris makes a cry of surprise, moving to get into a defensive position in front of Sebastian. Shouts sound further back in the maze, and Tristan grips Kira’s arm to pull her further into the maze. Kira follows without a word.
if history is dead and gone | fantasy girl gang | 1,100
When they reach the palace walls, an overstretched tree provides a simple escape up and over. Once their feet land on the other side, there are numerous shadows with which to disappear. Tristan leads the way for Kira, keeping that firm hand on her arm as they move through the streets and alleys of the surrounding city. Eventually the alley breaks open and they can take a breath of the fresh salt air of the ocean.
Soldiers crawl across the imperial docks, searching ships for stowaways, but Tristan’s eyes aren’t on any of them. A familiar two-mast brigantine ship sits shadowed against the horizon and she breathes a sigh of relief. Raff’s here. That at least is one part of the plan down. They just have to make it to the ship. Tristan raises her hand to signal the ship, and suddenly, the fog rolls in. The billowing clouds obscure them from view—but also hide the soldiers from theirs. Pirates always love their dramatics.
She takes Kira’s wrist again and leads her forward. “Stay close and stay quiet,” she whispers, and Kira does as she’s told, following the captain with as much quiet as she can muster. The loud clanking of soldier’s boots echo through the clouds, and they do their best to avoid them, but a few collide with Tristan’s fist or the hilt of Kira’s dagger when they come out of the roiling shadows.
They’re about halfway to the dock and Tristan can almost see the light at the edge of the shore. Before she can turn to convey that, a scream from Kira splits the air behind her.
“Tristan!”
Tristan whirls, fists up, and she can just barely make out a guard holding a dagger to Kira’s throat as he holds her against his chest.
“Hello Captain.”
She recognizes the voice, even if she can’t fully see his face. “Hello, Sergeant.” Sergeant Harold Robeson is the man who believes he probably should have her job. He’s likely relishing this. “I need you to let her go.”
“Ah, ah. I think I control this scenario.” He keeps Kira close, blade precariously pressing against her throat. Him not knowing whether she’s actually the oracle is probably the one thing Tristan has in her favor. She just has to play it to her advantage.
“What do you want, Harold?”
“Oh, you know what I want.”
“Seems like you’ve already gotten that.” Tristan holds up her hands. “Let’s not harm the Oracle in the process.”
He seems to startle at Kira being called by the title, and it gives Tristan just enough of an opening. Her fist lashes forward, cracks against the cartilage of his nose. The man stumbles backwards, providing just enough room for Kira to slip free.
“Run!” Tristan orders. “Head for the shore!”
The girl disappears. Tristan draws her sword just in time to bring it up to catch Harold’s blade with a clang. Her knees buckle slightly on the slippery surface but she shoves him backwards. She swings again, refusing to let him keep her on the defensive.
Harold refuses to waste an opportunity. He comes at her hard and fast, blade sliding against hers as they struggle in the fog. Her heart pounds in her chest with each blow. This won’t be as easy as knocking out the other guards. With each song of steel against steel, she can feel a rock settling into her stomach. She can feel her resolve beginning to crumble that she would be able to make it out of this without blood on her hands. She wonders if Asheron was right, and this is the only way she and Kira would survive. She—
Blood splits the air as Harold’s blade draws across her side.
Tristan twists away to keep it from going deeper, but pain radiates through her. All her swirling thoughts disappear in a haze of needing to survive. He gloats, her blood dripping from the edge of his blade, and it provides her the opportunity she needs.
She spins, and her blade slices across his throat, opening a second smile underneath his chin. The blood flows quickly, splattering across her and it takes a moment of coming back to herself to realize what she’s done.
“Oh gods.” She lets her sword drop, not wanting it in her hand anymore. “Harold, I—”
He can’t respond. He can only gurgle as the last few breaths before his eyes go blank. She releases a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are barely a whisper, before she turns and follows after Kira, heading to the shore.
The clouds part when she reaches the edge of the water and a small dinghy rocks against the waves with two sailors sitting in it. Caliban’s eyes are clouded over, hands poised as it’s clear they’re controlling the fog cloud, while the Wren is settling Kira on the boat. Tristan’s mind spins, unsure if she can go with them, given what she’s just done. Kira needs to be safe.
She’ll figure everything else out after.
“Quickly now. That spell only holds for so long.”
Wren reaches a hand out to Tristan next and she shakes her head. “I’m going to find another way off the island.”
“You’re not coming?”
The panic in Kira’s voice is clear, but Tristan can’t relent. She knows that this is the right call.
“They’ll be looking for both of us together. It’ll be safer if we split up for now. Raff knows exactly where to take you, and I will meet you there in two weeks.” Tristan reaches out a hand to Kira, and Kira takes it, squeezing it back as hard as she can. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Kira wavers, but nods. There’s no time to debate and she knows it. Instead, she pushes her dagger into Tristan’s hand. “Since you lost your sword.”
Tristan nods, sliding it into her belt, before looking back at the sailors. “Remind Raff that she owes me. And if Kira doesn’t make it to the commune safely, I’m taking back her ship.”
Wren smirks. “Will do. We’ll provide you as much cover as we can.”
Tristan turns and head back into the clouds, but stays towards the edge of it. She waits until the dinghy is fully set off from shore, before heading into the shadows of town and breaking into the trees. She needs an opportunity to patch herself up. She needs to gather some resources and find her own way off this island.
But for now, Kira is safe. That’s a job well done enough for one day.