Draft Excerpt From A Potential WIP Fic

Draft Excerpt from a Potential WIP Fic

This is set in Stymph Forest, during Rise. It isn't a TOTSMOV41 excerpt.

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He tossed his blackened handkerchief into the glade from atop his high perch.

It landed in the circle of Stymphs, the birds arranged much like a fairy ring of living corpses.

His birds stared back up at him. One cocked its head.

Rafal smirked back.

Here he was, airing out dirty laundry. Literally if not figuratively.

Bah! That was Good’s job. Exposing villains. And whatever went on amongst his graduates.

Lately, the lot of them had been disappointments. But really, all that was the decline of the youth. Couldn’t be his teaching methods. His methods had never failed him before.

A few decades ago, villainy was worthwhile. Not now.

Ought he to change?

No. The problem lay with the students themselves. Children were becoming stupider with every passing generation.

Probable that the tales were making their parents soft. Less bloodshed these days. Fewer blood oaths than ever, even if his from a century ago hadn’t been the last. Far from it.

Yet, allowing the stupid duffers to live and procreate had been a mistake on the Pen’s part. They were the culprits, from a few generations back. The tales ought to have not been so merciful, sparing them!

A few too many dimwitted Evers and even the slower Nevers he’d not seen before in his time hadn’t just managed to stall their deaths with the comforts of advancing technology and so-called conveniences. They’d seemingly thrived.

And restaurants! In the densest parts of the Woods, no less. And spellcasts. And squirrely nuts of all things! Even the vermin had longer memories than his students did, if they could recite letters with that much precision.

It was more than he could say about his latest class. Besides the rampant insubordination and how they’d just barely passed their last impromptu examination.

They’d had it too soft for too long. Those conveniences wouldn’t be so convenient when they were stranded alone in the Woods. When they had nothing but birds and cloaks for company. Not even birds in their cases, he reasoned. His Stymphs served him and him alone.

No wonder those parents’ offspring couldn’t keep up with his curriculum. They’d all gone to rot—brains leaking through their ears, moth-eaten attention-spans. Worse every generation, it was.

It was all ludicrous, this, this accursed modernity. Look what it’d bought them: a marked lack of survival skills.

And the result of that deficit was premature deaths when the cushioning ceased to exist, when all the fail-safes excess inter-kingdom tourism had engineered fell to ruins like all enterprises did in time, like the hotels and spas some of his brother’s vapid colleagues couldn’t even begin to live without did. And they called themselves “professionals.”

He tossed his head back, tilting his chin skywards. Nothing endured forever. Not even the stars.

Forever was only as long as you could prolong it to be, through sheer force of will, and that was assuming you were shrewd enough to see forthcoming disaster on the horizon.

And if the tales didn’t result in death, then they ended with the living afflicted by grave stupidity. Which was worse. Incurably worse than ridding the Woods of the problem at all.

Yet, Good’s mortality rates these days were at an all-time low.

He couldn’t ease up. Not now. When he’d return, he’d require better performance from them all—if only so they could crane their necks to live up to great heights and exceed his expectations as Nevers. Prove they were deserving of his attention.

His eyes lit up as he grinned to himself.

And, if they couldn’t, well, there was always the chopping block. Or the pruning shears for Mogrifs.

He couldn’t let old standards decline. Not even while he was gone.

If he could scout out someone exemplary, to replace the rancid, rotted-through students with, those limp-spined lost causes, maybe they’d rally together and make something of themselves. Live to see another day in their future tales, if they garnered the Pen’s attention at all.

It was the best he could do.

That said, he should probably keep up with the tales while he was away, once they were released into the Woods, via printed copies, if not the Pen’s first editions.

There’d be a delay in acquiring storybooks, but what could go wrong in his absence? The manor was secure, even if his brother wasn’t fortress material.

Personally, I'd go for the second interpretation, usually, so he could act as a foil for Rhian, but the first one is still possible due to his monologue at the Black Rabbit. Thoughts anyone?

I love these concepts! They're all very plausible. Though the Woods seem more forgiving than Gavaldon is, in regards to magic/sorcery, even if it were dark magic, so I wonder why their parents could've been murdered. Did you have a reason in mind?

And, actually, I have a WIP that's slightly similar although Rafal isn't a child (since it's set during canon instead), nor does he "vent" aloud.

what if rafal talked to birds when he was a child

Actually, I can see this and I had a headcanon/AU about it once, where that's how he connected with the stymphs.

rafal as a detective

Rafal: You may ask how is it that I solve crimes, my dear brother, and that is precisely why I'm bringing you along.

Rhian: I didn't ask.

Rafal: ...Ok, nevermind. If you must know, I'm only bringing you along because you may be the next target and can't stay home alone. So, come along, or stop dressing like a coxcomb in public if you wish to live. The serial killer's left a string of young men's corpses all across Akgul, decapitated with a different cutlass at every scene. Would've made more sense if the victims were women, if you ask me though. I mean, "cut lass?" The killer missed out on a prime opportunity for wordplay. It was right there!

Rhian: [his teeth begin to chatter and not just from the cold.] H-how d-d-d-do you know the killer is m-m-m-male? Is he handsome?

Rafal: [takes a drag on his pipe.] That's enough questions for today. I've developed a head cold.

Rhian: [lifts a finger triumphantly.] Aha! Must be the smoking. I know we're immortal, but I've told you to stop that. Smoking is a filthy, low-class habit, and I can't stand seeing you like this! Ruining your lungs for a one-man performance.

Rafal: I'm immortal. [He tugs the brim of Rhian's low, black felt, top hat down over his eyes.] Besides, what's there to see? You don't have to look, if it bothers you so much. Now, the key to catching a criminal is thinking like one—and most criminals smoke like chimneys, probably thanks to the stress of a life on the run. [He glares pointedly at Rhian.]

Rhian: [rights his hat again.] Perhaps, we should consult the Kingdom Council? [he asks hopefully.]

Rafal: The Council consulted me for a reason.

Rhian: At my behest.

Rafal: [ignores him.] Now, this fiend of ours must've pictured his victims facedown in a pool of blood as the murder weapon he left would've drawn a lot more to pool about, if not for the absorbent carpeting over this hardwood—

Rhian: That's quite a far leap to make, Rafal.

Rafal: [not listening] 'Course, something or someone could've applied pressure, to stopper up the open wound—

Rhian: Are you sure you're not just projecting your own fantasies onto the ki—

Rafal: Nonsense, you wanted me on the side of the law, didn't you?

Rhian: Not like this! You're becoming obsessive. You know there are real lives at stake, right?

Rafal: Careful what you wish for then. I will solve this case and catch that killer.

TLEA likely could've been darker in at least one way, if it had been more accurate to our real-world science:

If SGE’s magic didn’t work how it did, I bet Sophie’s ears could have popped, and maybe burst her eardrums. Plus, Rafal could have inadvertently killed her (and doomed himself!) once he’d reached some terminal velocity of mortals while flying with her.

Probably, he could stop her from bleeding out though (or would it be internal bleeding?), and the ring would save her, too, I think, as the immortality went "both ways."

Aside from some "recovery" or the potential ring fail-safe, just think of the angst and hurt/comfort potential!

WOW, he looks so good—and his expression! And the little cat demon creature over his shoulder! What is it?

Can you please draw Rafal in the outfit he wore when he and Midas met in room 66 during fall??

WOAH TWO POSTS IN A DAY

the angle midas is at is always hard for me to draw so i gave him little line eyes😭