"with our backs to the wall, the darkness will fall If Quentin had learned anything from his thousands of years of living, it was that life without some sort of intervention was dull. The years stretched on, and yet there was rarely anything of note that happened. He was bored of it all sometimes, and would hide away until the next great event happened. Over the centuries, he had become rather irrelevant; at least, irrelevant to anything that mattered. The people still remembered him - how could they forget a god, after all? - but there was not much need for him anymore. Quentin had become not much more than a glorified fire-keep, something that he resented, but had languidly accepted.
It hadn't always been like this, though. He had even been on the first Council. Now
that was an age to behold. A collection of all the notable gods, joining forces to do - well, whatever it was that they did. Despite all the build-up, there really weren't many notable things that the Council had really done, all considered. Mostly just general improvements, and a nice time of peace that lasted for quite some time. Quentin had loved every minute of it, and it had hit him rather hard when the Council was torn apart due to in-fighting and certain power-hungry individuals. For Quentin, this was probably the beginning of the end, as after that he started falling out of importance in the world, and everything seemed so much less interesting.
The fire god continued his duties over the years, spreading and maintaining fire around the world. The flickering flames brought no real warmth, and only seemed to mock him, however. Quentin brought life wherever he went, but he also brought destruction, perhaps even more so. He was fire incarnate, and had been for thousands of years, and yet it no longer gave him joy to see his flames spread. Quentin felt more of a quiet detachedness, as if he expected more from the fire. Even the flames from his mane were no longer what they once were, flickering so callously as they did. Fire no longer sparked a passion in his chest; it only served to remind him of how long it had been. However, unbeknownst to Quentin, this would be the Winter it would all change.
The Council was brought back, after all those centuries. The air was beginning to chill, and it was almost Winter, Quentin's favorite season. He felt a little bit more alive in the Winter, with his fires biting back the cold edge of Winter. Quentin was swirling flames around his paws for fun when he received the news that the Council was being reestablished, and he dropped everything to meet with the others. He was unsure of why now, of all times, but that was something that could be addressed later. Quentin certainly wasn't complaining. He met with the other gods, and was offered his former position on the Council, which he graciously accepted.
However, as proven before, good things never last as long as you'd like, something Quentin stands by whole-heartedly. This time, it was merely a few years before things began going downhill, and downhill they went. The corruption within the Council had almost doubled this time around, though it went some time before it went noticed. It was little things at first, and only few seemed to pay attention to this, but one of the first to notice was Quentin. Over the centuries, he had grown quite observant, and though it had been oppressed for a bit, it took only some interest to revive the trait in him.
Quentin was not the only one to notice this - a few of his fellow Council-members also began suspecting something was off. Quentin went to them with his suspicions and they all agreed that something should be done. At the very least, one of them went to the nominal leader of the Council with their evidence. Quentin waited anxiously for what would come next, his flames burning brighter than they had in a long time. There was some deliberation between the highest level of the Council, and eventually they reached a verdict - the viscet who had come to them had merely been trying to sow seeds of dissent among the Council, and was to be put on trial to be removed from the Council.
Quentin and the rest were in shock - how could they have come to that conclusion? The trial commenced, and to their even greater shock, the viscet was voted off the Council and sentenced to exile. Quentin was extremely dismayed at these results - either their suspicions were wrong, or the Council was far more corrupted than they could have imagined. He was confused and rather upset, and decided to take it into his own paws to root out the truth, if the highest level of the Council wasn't going to. Quentin did quite a bit of snooping around until he had what he could only call absolute proof that there were strings of corruption threaded all throughout the Council. Now, he only had to figure out who he could go to with the information he had discovered.
Eventually, Quentin decided on someone in his own level on the council, though he didn't know the other god too personally. As far as he knew, the other wasn't involved in any of the corruption. Quentin was hoping to gain a few more powerful allies so that they could at least help him to formulate a game plan on what to do next. Unfortunately for him, Quentin had misjudged the one he went to for help, and ended up in a position much worse than he could have imagined. The other attacked him and, thinking he was dead, dropped Quentin into the sea, before heading back to inform the rest of the Council of Quentin's 'treacherous actions'.
Quentin drifted through the cold Winter sea for quite some time before washing up on a small beach, though he wasn't conscious. His flames sizzled when the sea water splashed over them, creating steam that rose up above his body. What a sight Quentin was, when only a few days ago he was an imposing figure, a fire god on a Council made up of only the best. Or, at least, it was intended to be made up of only the best.
we never quite thought we could lose it all The pale viscet stirred, before gingerly pushing himself up. He was on...a beach, it seemed, though at the moment he was unable to get his bearings. Quentin breathed raggedly, glancing down at his side and wincing. There was a jagged slash mark running across quite a bit of his body, now covered in sand. It was beyond him how he had survived such a wound, though he was sure if he had been mortal he would not have made it nearly this far. He took a few minutes to just breathe, letting the flames from his mane help warm him a bit. It was turning dusk, Winter, and Quentin was soaked in seawater, which was quite the terrible combination, especially when taking into account the gash in his side that stung quite a bit.
He dragged himself a bit farther up the shore, until he was far enough out of the water that it couldn't reach his fiery mane, and dropped back to the ground. Quentin lay stretched out like that in the sand for what had to be about half an hour, just breathing and processing what had happened to him. So, obviously he had been wrong in going for help. There was already too many power-hungry individuals threaded throughout the Council, too many for him to keep track of. Despair wracked Quentin, and he shrunk down into the sand. What would his next move be? What
could his next move be? He was...unsure. It was likely that he couldn't go back to the Council - he had probably already been exiled anyways.
Quentin dredged up a sigh, coughing a bit, and tried to push himself back up again but found he was too weak. The male cursed under his breath, digging his claws into the sand. This was inconvenient, to say the least. Perhaps if he conserved his strength for a bit, he would be able to muster up to get up and go...well, anywhere but here. Quentin tried to lay as still as possible, trying to keep his cut side out of the sand. Before he knew it, however, Quentin was drifting away.
The next thing Quentin knew, he was opening his eyes to a rough prod. He flinched away from the contact, blinking furiously. Quentin rolled onto his side, facing whatever had initiated the contact. He was not exactly sure what he was seeing at first. It appeared to be another viscet, though incredibly large. At least, he assumed they must be quite large, since they were larger than Quentin himself. Quentin squinted at the other 'cet. Their fur was black and white with tints of blue, and had an almost headache-inducing pattern of stripes. A surprised look was on their face, and they drew back slightly. This movement allowed Quentin to see that there was another viscet accompanying the black and white one. This viscet was much smaller, maybe average size for a regular viscet, and also striped, though instead of black and white they had shades of purple instead. This one had a rather concerned look, if not slightly disgruntled as their larger companion bumped into them.
"Are you okay?" the purple viscet asked, right as the black and white viscet asked, "Are those
flames?"
Quentin had to take a moment to process both of the questions before he could offer up an acceptable response. "I'm fine, other than the gaping hole in my side. Could be better. And yes, they are
flames." Despite the pain that was beginning to build up, Quentin was still trying his best to remain snarky.
The black and white viscet gaped at him for another moment before a look of slight annoyance flashed over his face. The purple viscet hardly reacted to his comment, and instead moved closer, offering a paw. "Here, let us help. I'm skilled enough in medicine, and besides, you're in no shape to be doing anything else." The black and white viscet only nodded slightly, eyeing his companion.
Quentin sized up the pair once again, before extending his paw out to the other viscet. Though he probably didn't
need their help, it would definitely be beneficial, and it would make his life a lot easier. The larger male moved to help him stand, letting Quentin lean on him. He drew back slightly from the blue flames that made up Quentin's mane at first, but quickly allowed Quentin to place as much weight as needed onto him. Quentin didn't want to seem too weak to these strangers, but he was also finding it hard to move on his own.
The three walked in silence for a bit, before the black and white viscet broke it. "What happened to you, anyways? How's a guy like you get a scratch that big?"
Quentin flicked an ear thoughtfully before answering. It...didn't seem all that great of an idea to go around telling others about his status. But, these two were certainly an odd pair, and though he obviously wasn't as good of a judge of character as he thought, they didn't seem like they posed much of a threat. Besides, during the short time that he had known the pair, Quentin had spotted fins, and what seemed to be gills on the larger male, which was quite interesting, and made Quentin
want to trust them.
"It's a long story, so I suppose I'll start at the beginning..."
ready aim fire, ready aim fire "...and that's how I ended up where you found me," Quentin finished, sipping from the mug he had been given. His story was long, and he was only halfway through when they reached the home Finn and Qrow were staying in. Finn had bandaged his side, while Qrow prepared a meal for them. All the while, Quentin had told his story.
"That's quite a tale, I have to say," Qrow responded, tilting his head curiously. "So, what now? It's not like you can just waltz back in there."
It was unfortunate to hear his fears spoken aloud, but certainly true. Quentin stared into his drink for a moment before replying, "I...guess I'll just lay low for awhile. Hopefully somebody will do something about the Council, since I suppose it's no longer my burden to take care of."
"Well, you're free to stay here for as long as you need. We're not really going anywhere anytime soon." Finn offered, with an affirmative nod from Qrow.
Quentin was silent for a moment, thinking. He certainly didn't want to involve Finn or Qrow into anything involving the Council. However, it wasn't likely that anybody was going to come after him. He was, after all, likely
exiled, which meant he wouldn't be coming into contact with any other gods probably any time soon.
"That is a kind offer, one I would love to take you up on. Thank you, both of you," Quentin finally said, smiling lightly.
"It's our pleasure," Finn said, waving him off, at the same time as Qrow's, "No problem. It's not everyday you meet a fire god, anyways."
"So, now that I've told my story, what about yours?" Quentin asked, gesturing towards the pair. He had to admit, he was a bit more curious about Qrow than he was Finn - he hadn't seen an aquatic viscet like that in a long time. Of course, there was probably something special about Finn as well. He seemed almost...different, but in a good way, Quentin supposed.
"Mmm, I'll go first. It may not be as exciting as yours, or even as Finn's, but it's still something," Qrow drawled, resituating himself.
Finn grinned at the comment, swatting lightly at the larger viscet. "Oh come on, your story's definitely more interesting than mine!" he exclaimed.
"Oh really? What's cooler, guy who has gills or guy who's a shapeshifter?" Qrow countered, taking a sip from his mug.
Quentin was certainly a bit surprised at the comment, though it wasn't as if he had never met a shapeshifter in his many years. Finn must have noticed the faint expression of surprise, because he cried out, "Q-ro-o-o-w, don't ruin my life story! Tell your own, not mine!"
Qrow ducked out of the way from a playful bat, laughing heartily. "Alright, alright, I'll quit spoiling your story and get on with mine. It all started one fateful day, with a very special egg..."
Quentin could already tell that this story was going to be filled with dramatizations, though in his opinion that only served to compliment the real story. He settled in, listening with interest to the story Qrow was telling. He was going to be spending quite a bit of time with Qrow and Finn, so it would be good to learn more stuff about them.
Maybe he wasn't on the Council anymore, or among fellow gods; exiled even, with a big gash in his side. Probably his worst nightmares come to light. However, he didn't feel like this was a nightmare; in fact, this was probably the best he had felt since learning about the reestablishment of the Council. There was something about Finn and Qrow, something that felt almost inviting. He felt warmer, and not just because of his flames burning brighter because of the season. Rather, it seemed, Quentin had found something that inspired meaning and passion within him. It wasn't often that he met new viscets, and certainly an odd occasion when he found himself meeting mortals. And yet, here he was, content as could be, listening to an aquatic and a shapeshifter.
The events leading up to these circumstances were pretty terrible, no matter how you looked at it. Injured, probably framed, cast out of the Council, and likely exiled. And yet, Quentin thought to himself, he wouldn't change any of those events.
an empire's fall in just one day
you close your eyes and the glory fades."2711/3000 words (with lyrics)
lyrics are from ready aim fire by imagine dragons, and
finn and
qrow belong to me!
