Loosely based on Tangled. Rian, Gurjin, Amri, and Kylan are a band of thieves roped into taking Brea out to see the world and help realize her dream. In the midst of adventure and hilarity, love blooms between the mild-mannered Spriton and the lost princess.
I flipped through “Heroes of the Resistance” (a simple and fun guide, unpretentious) and I discovered that Rian can play the lute ! I had to draw it ! I think I got that weird (but somehow elegant) face right, and I hid a Stonewood symbol on his lute. With his missions as one of the heroes of Thra, Rian never got a proper time to mourn his losses. So I imagined a scene where he takes a break and sings to himself a sorrowful tune. I’m a fan of puppetry as an art form, so I would be delighted to see something like this. Performing a character playing a string instrument would be tricky, but the result could be really rewarding. Oh ! And Taron Egerton can use his singing skills again !
“Muppets playing string instruments” has definitely been done, it is SO doable, this is a scene we need now thank you for contribution.
(for this I used one of my personal favorite books and pulled out a few head canons to make this fic)
It’s just a normal day in the life of Brea. This time of the day she would choose to spend a bit of free time at a nearby coffee shop. This was an in between time for her. She didn’t have to Study, But she didn’t have to be present for a lecture either. A lone man working the register greeted her as she walked in. He always did this, since she was a bit of a regular. He already knew her order, a simple Vanilla Frappe. Once her drink was made she made her way over to a sun lit table. It was a sunny day clouded by the snow that Ha’Rar often attracted. She looked out the window and sighed, smiling before she reached into her satchel pulling out a rather large novel.
Les Miserables was the title of it. A Tale of Tragedy, Redemption and a sprinkle of Romance. She flips over to her bookmark before engulfing herself into this tale once more. Now and again, She would look up to grab her Frappe, Take a sip, Then place it back onto the table for turning her next page. She lived for these moments, Sitting in a quiet room and reading to her heart’s continent. A good drink was just a plus for her.
Suddenly, she hears bells ring and a door open. This was strange considering this was a very slow paced coffee shop. She placed her index finger onto the place she left off, looking over at the other customer. Funny thing is, he’s vaguely familiar. He takes off a black cap, his get black hair is styled just the way she remembers. His hands, covered by chic, black leather gloves, rub against each other for warmth before being placed in his equally quaint pea coat. He walks up to the barista and orders his coffee of choice. Or maybe it’s tea. She can’t hear him well enough to really hear what it was. His eyes look around the seemingly empty coffee shop, feeling as if someone is watching him. His gaze falls upon her, observing him from across the room. He stares at her for a second and then begins to smile. She returns the sentiment. He remembers her.
He approaches her with a smile, his drink in hand.
“Hey, Remember me?”
Brea Blinked a couple of times, knocking herself out of a trance. She stuttered out a quick answer.
“Oh, Yes! Spriton Storyteller!”
Kylan smiled, content with this. He went ahead and sat across from her, setting his drink on the table top.
“Yep, That’s me. My names Kylan, and yours…I already know. Princess Brea.”
He said, a soft smile curled onto his face. He continues the conversation with pleasantries. — how are you doing? How have you been? What are you doing here?
She didn’t realize until that moment that she missed the sound of his voice. She didn’t realize that all the butterflies she pushed deep down in her stomach have suddenly shown up again. She soon found herself thinking of how nice it is to have him look at her. It seemed for a tiny moment that he could possibly care about her. For more than just her High ranking in society.
To someone who just met him, he or she might not notice the small changes within his mannerisms. His gaze, although friendly, seems to be in the clouds, as if he knows he is in this quiet Vapran coffee shop but somehow can’t seem to find his place within it. His words aren’t as grandiose as Brea had remembered them to be. They speak the same language now. Then it hits her — he’s started to become interested in her, rather than trying to Impress her with Make believe stories. He simply wanted to hear her speak her story.
All the while, he sees something different in her too. She’s lost her sense of nervousness and awkwardness around him. The assertive need to act regal in front of her family has been left behind. The styled blonde braided hair she used to sport was now replaced with a shadow of what used to be, somehow making her prettier than he remembered from their previous meeting. state of being intrigues him. The young girl he once knew has now become a woman with more passion and ambition than he can ever remember. She has come into her own being and maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to fall in love with her.
He looks at the large book with in her hands and he wonders aloud what she is reading about. Taking a sip of her coffee, the vanilla smell coming from the mug, she describes how she is Reading the book titled Les Miserables. She breaks down the intricacies of what each part a character plays, how much each action has affected the story, etc… and all he can do is sit there, fascinated by her enthusiasm on this seemingly foreign subject. He takes in her hand gestures, her body language, they’re open and inviting. He notices her Golden Brown eyes light up as she talks about how passionate she is for her hobby. Her smile gives him a tingle of warmth through his bones, one that until that moment, he had never felt before with her. All the while, she notices his body language too. He’s subtly leaning in to hear every word that quietly exited from her mouth. He looks her in the eye, trying to figure out her next move before she throws him for a loop and does the opposite. The hand that used to be in his pocket is now right next to hers, fingers begging to be linked together. They both feel the warmth radiating from the other person. Or maybe it’s the heat in the shop. They don’t care enough to pay attention to what’s happening around them. They only care about each other in the heat of the moment.
Yet they’re both afraid of making a move. Him, afraid that there are more feelings here than he is prepared to handle — from both sides. Her, afraid that he’s going to break her heart and leave her with all the shattered pieces. All these feelings of want, and yet no actions made. So they just sit and speak, desperately hoping that one or the other is going to reach out and throw an invitation out. A hope that there is a small chance for a romance to begin. She smiles, Noticing that she has been ranting about this book and not giving him a chance to speak himself.
“Well, That’s enough for my stories… They’re nothing compared to yours.”
She spoke, a small chuckle at the end of her words. Kylan simply shook his head.
“I’d much rather listen to you. Your stories are much more interesting.”
He then took a sip of his coffee as Brea’s cheeks turned into a tinge of pink. She was burning up with embarrassment.
“No- No need to compliment me like that. You clearly over look your own potential if that’s the view you have.”
Brea stated, Earning a quick laugh from both of the young gelfling. They sat there for a moment, letting silence ensue. It was nice. Being able to just sit with someone who understood them so well. Who had an obvious interest in the person they were speaking to and not just the benefits that may come along with the individual. A sigh was caught leaving brea’s lips. Kylan spoke up.
“I do appreciate the compliment although. I’m known for my song telling with in my clan…But that’s about it. I’m glad that other clans enjoy this ,er, talent of mine.”
Brea simply nodded.
“The court seemed quite impressed. It was quite a treat for you to entertain us. My mother really seemed to enjoy the tale.”
She paused, recalling a faint memory.
“It was the tale of Jarra-jen I believe. That’s her favorite.”
Kylan smiled, nodding his head.
“It’s a classic. A beloved tale amongst many Gelfling.”
He stated, looking up for her reaction.
“I can certainly say it’s not mine, but then again…I read to many to keep track of…Oh!”
She exclaimed, looking over to the clock, carefully hung upon the wall. She lets him know that she has to leave in order to make her next class. She asks if she could see him again.
“We’ll meet again?”
He agrees vehemently.
“You can call for me any time, and I’d be more than happy to just sit like this again.”
Brea gives him one last hug, saying it was nice to see him. She packs up and walks out into the cold, ready to face the rest of the day and sadly knowing that it’s going to be awhile before she sees Kylan again, if ever. Kylan continues to sit there, stunned by what just happened. He realizes the seriousness of the situation he is in. He realizes that half of his heart has just walked away with her and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. Their love only lasted as long as a chat in a lone coffee shop. All he has from their interaction is a receipt for a cup of coffee, an Insightful new view on his Story telling, and regret that he didn’t continue their conversation. He Grabs his cup, getting out of his seat and sighing.
“We’ll meet again Princess.”
He muttered, sticking a hand into his pocket as he left the shop, Off to continue his errands through out the City of Ha’rar.
Fandom:Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Ship: Seladon / skekSo Summary:What if Emperor had said ‘Yes’ to her, just once? Seladon shares an uncomfortable meal at the Skesis table. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036080/chapters/50035253
It was not the first time she had been invited to sit at the dining table, but it was the first that she had accepted.
She hid beneath her crown, her head tipped so that the spirals of deep black claw and tooth could be presented to the world. Her eyes cast downwards, shadowed into dark slits beneath her heavy lashes. There was no reason for her to act this way - downtrodden, ashamed, a poor girl overwhelmed by what was only her duty - these were guises that had long been exorcised from her body. However, at this dinner table… all the rules she had once learned were turned on their head. It was not that she was afraid, she told herself, it was that this posture was the one expected of her.
Shrieking filled her ears from all sides. A cacophony that would never have been permitted at her mother’s- no, the previous All Maudra’s - no, that turncoat’s court. Feculent language spewed from mouths suited to the sewer - but this was no sewer, this was the highest table in all the land. And no matter what she thought of it, it was their right to behave in whatever way they so desired. In whatever way hepermitted.
And he sat by her side. She saw only his fingers - flexing on the table, curling into a fist and banging with joviality at some joke or another, occasionally picking at food, though, it seemed his appetite was quite restrained. Not unlike hers, she supposed - as she stared back down at her meagre pickings of some fruit that the Gourmand had not bothered to name.
But as much as he laughed - his voice just one dark shadow cast in a sea of confusing shapes - she would not engage in such frivolities. No, not at this occasion - her head kept so perfectly still, her body sitting on a chair that swayed embarrassingly as it perched precariously on whatever thick tomes the Scroll Keeper resentfully parted with. No, on this outing, she would keep herself in… her place. Out of the conversation, not drawing attention to herself, holding herself with grace and… dignity, a precious, prized ornament - the very best role she could hope for.
And as her chest swelled at the thought, at the hope that - yes, she could do this, that this - all of this - would be worth it in the end… the shrieking grew louder, his body began to sway, long fingers tipped with dinner claws unfurling - excitement visible in the tremble of his finger. She dared cast a glance upwards, and to her surprise and with gasp only barley contained in her throat, his face loomed down towards her. His expression was unreadable, but then - the tremble in his fingers, the way his face loomed closer…
“Yes, bring the Princess some!”
His laughter - sharp, yapping, raspy - imprinted on her face, and she failed to see the humour in any of this. Still, her face contorted pleasantly, shaped itself just as it was meant to, and she said,
“Of course, anything you give me is received with my humblest gratitude. This fruit, it is…”
She trailed off as he stopped paying attention to her, his silver of his beak a slash in the air as a cry of protest rose from the other end of the table.
“We can’t waste precious essence on a GELFLING!”
She followed the direction of his beak - pointing like a silver arrow, like a knife - straight towards General. The other Skesis chattered and murmured, though none seemed to make up their mind enough to agree.
“Well… if it is truly precious, my most pragmatic Emperor, then … There is no need to spare such resource on me…”
Her voice pined, her eyes cast sliding back to him. General… her guts squirmed, she supposed she should be thankful to him, no matter his thoughts on her. He was the reason she took this chair so young, after all.
She held her breath as well as her tongue. After all, she had been made more than used to this kind of humiliation. How often had mother simply sat back and let officials knit-pick at her posture, tease her awkward wording - or worse, share in the joke with her, swap a gaze or a smile of held-back, patronising laughter whenever she braved herself enough to speak her tongue.
But this was not her mother’s court.
“This is not any Gelfling, General. She is the All Maudra,” Emperor laughed and she felt the way his tongue played with her title, like it was a plaything in his mouth. “An All Maudra who plays Skesis, who sits at our table, who sits by my side.”
General snorted, though she could only imagine the state of his face. The Skesis shuffled in their seats, the laughter that had once infected the air now turned soured and heavy.
“But, Emperor…” Scientist remarked - his voice even dimmer as it scratched from the far-side of the table. “We do not know the effects it would have on her body - she is of Thra, so…”
They… was he really insisting…? Her gaze widened, then - eyes wide like hope but in slipped fear. The rumours were true, then. They drained Gelfling, and…
“You, afraid of an experiment, Scientist?”
Emperor guffawed, his fingers now tapping on the table.
They drained Gelfling and drank their essence. This much was true. This much was true, but…
“No, Emperor - I…”
“It is wasted on her! Wouldn’t it be worse if it worked?” General boomed, and Emperor’s gaze once again slit the air.
Yes. They drained them, but what other dark secrets did she not know? What secrets did the commoners only dream of, while they wore their taxed jewels round their necks, wedding veils round their heads?
“… Worse?”
She heard the bite in his voice, saw the cold narrowing his eye.
“She may rule a hundred trine, a thousand with me!”
(She would see him, later, and know this could not be true. Not for her own body, that felt more alive than it had ever been - but because she heard him in the dead of night, retching. He thought he was alone in this - she made sure of that, not because she was afraid of his embarrassment, but because she knew what it was like to be caught by a pitiful gaze when she was busy trying to ebb out her soul into the night, red eyed and filled with sorrow meant only for herself. He was quiet, so forcibly quiet, in his wheezing, in his weeping.)
The Skesis laughed at this, howling, even. General baulked, feathers on his head flailing, but as he leaned his weight over the table, mouth open and prepared to speak - Emperor rose to his full height, a black mass of silk on silk rising skyward.
“Stop! No more of this!”
The room went silent.
“Bring. The Princess. Essence. NOW.”
She hid her head again as Scientist scrambled out of the room, his heavy feet and cloth scraping along the floor. He..
He was embarrassing himself.
For her?
Spoke of a - what did he mean, a hundred trine, a thousand? Her face flushed - was it so that she could be his joke, his talking point, his gilded toy forever?
(Later, she would learn just what she represented. When he held her face in his gnarled hands, his skin full of potholes that her soft flesh tried to fill, when he gazed at her a whitehot gaze she learned was full of jealousy. How he wanted her skin, all that skin, all that youthful beauty. Before he would drag her down into silks upon silks upon silks, an undulating sea of fabric where she could finally - finally - slip free and let loose herself.)
Of course, he had lifespans upon lifespans braided into his layers, into his skin. Those clothes he wore.. they must have dwarfed her lifespan. And though she had been present to the forging of her own crown - he, too, must have been for his - crafted from materials so rare she was not even sure it existed in the earth anymore. That was what Brea had taught her, after all… among many things, none of which really mattered here. A thousand trine… she was nothing but a blip, a scratch of chalk on a long, dark blackboard. How many memories did he have coiled in the curves of his mind? How many versions of her - terrified, scared, bitter little girls did he keep in there?
“Get out.” He snapped, sitting down and running nail over nail, patiently waiting as General struggled to get out of his seat. “GO!”
None, of course.
Because those would not be worth remembering. And he did not see her as a terrified, scared, bitter little girl.
He saw her as a Princess.
She smiled at him, her gaze defiant through her own mixed emotions.
He gazed back at her, eyes narrowing into what might have been a smile.
He’d fought for her.
Her gaze lifted, and she gazed round that table. Every Skesis refused to meet her eyes - cowered away from it, in fact. Glancing between themselves, towards Emperor.
Her smile split into the thinnest of grins.
Yes.
This was power she’d never had. Power her mother had never given her.
He lifted a hand and placed it, heavy, on her head.
She closed her eyes as he lifted the glass to her mouth, fingers in her hair straining to keep her in place. But he did not have to restrain her. He did not have to force her.
“Drink.”
She slid her eyes open as the liquid bubbled at her lips, as his command rippled through her skin.
they have the same role in their respective groups, absorb visions of future events and try to understand how they come to be and their outcomes. They both know about the whole Urskeks deal and once every trine they come together to discuss about their most recent visions and omens.
Since “Age of Resistance” ive been deep into TDC lore hole so here are my Skeksis/Mystic OCs. I have some gelflins ocs too for a story im working on so ill probably post them later.
