everday-observations
haggis in the eye
If this Australian has three pineapples on him I'm going to lose my fucking mind
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TLDR; Rock-cut architecture are super cool
Currently wikipedia diving to research historical architecture for this fantasy novel I'm making, and look at this! Wikipedia calls it the Sivrijaya castle which I think is a bit suspect because nothing came up when I searched for other articles using that name, only tourist sites. Most papers call it the Ortahisar castle.
[Picture of Ortahisar with its 90 meter tall castle]
I genuinely had to look up vlogs on youtube just to check that this thing was real, it looks so magical and otherworldly. I was already aware of other similar architecture (known as rock-cut architecture according to wikipedia) in Jordan and India but these typically functioned as temples not as actual living spaces.
[Picture of Al-Khazneh in Petra, Jordan]
[Picture of Kailasa Temple, Ellora]
So, this led me to think that maybe rock-cut architectures are not particularly livable spaces? It would make sense since they would be kind of damp... and dark... Also, for the purposes of my story, I wanted the architecture to be going upwards not downwards like most of the other rock-cut formations. (I just wanted to see if it was even possible to make such a thing even though, you know, it's supposed to be a fantasy and I could make my life easier and magic all the doubts away :'D)
Anyway, a few clicks on related articles later and I found it! The Ortahisar Castle is the oldest structure of its type in the Cappadocia region and it was apparently still used as a town hall in 1916?? Mindblowing. This thing has been in existence as far back as the Roman Empire, for context. It appears as if the Cappadocia region where Ortahisar is located in, has quite a few similar structures made out of the same type of volcanic sediments (might be using the wrong term here, I am unfortunately not a geologist). These structures are called fairy chimneys which is a pretty fair name, in my opinion. I mean, look at it!
It was a bit difficult to find further publicly available information in English on Ortahisar Castle. Links to all resources that I found:
https://www.cappadociapage.com/en/ortahisar-castle/ (Lots of pretty pictures and info)
https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s00254-008-1198-z#Sec2 (there are many similar papers on its conservation)
https://open.metu.edu.tr/handle/11511/21441 (Urban planning thesis on Ortahisar and the castle)
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joys of baking
Throw in 250g of flour, with 175g of sugar (don't forget to add 1/2 a teaspoon of baking powder and a pinch of salt for luck) and whisk vigorously with your trusty fork.
Tip in room temp butter (nevermind that room temp basically means liquid in the summer) and use your hand-mixer to- whoops, there goes a cloud of flour! Add in three eggs and a cup of milk, two teaspoons of vanilla extract you bought from Tesco and continue mixing until fully combined.
Glance at the oven only to realise you forgot to pre-heat it! Grease your cake/muffin/etc pan and pour the mixture in. Scroll through your phone for about 15 minutes as you wait for it to reach 180C/350F. Toss in the oven once it's done and set the timer.
Instead of cleaning up, lounge around in the living room only to fall asleep on the couch and wake up to smell of burning.
Oh well, maybe next time.
#you can do this by hand but... whips out some expensive kitchen tech I am going to use this convenient thing instead and proceed to not expl#cookin#cake#cute#vanilla#sweets#dessert#cakedecorating#donuts#tart
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Traversing the world of sewing
My knowledge of sewing is pretty much primary school level. The backstitch, running stitch and cross stitch were the only terms I'm familiar with when I skimmed over hundreds and hundreds of blogposts on hand sewing. I would have an easier time picking up woodworking --though with the way my teacher would nervously observe me sawing wood back in the day, it would probably be a long and painful career. Don't get me wrong, I have enough rudimentary knowledge such that I can mend tears or worn seams but, I've never made anything from scratch.
Some questions at the back of my mind:
1. Do I really need a sewing machine?
It seems like most guides aimed at beginners require a machine of some sort. An investment I am not willing to make due to financial reasons.
2. Why are all the information so scattered about anyway?
Hand-sewing is particularly difficult to find. Most results are of people appreciating how the act promotes mindfulness and is extremely useful in re-creating historical fashion. What the techniques actually are requires a bit more digging.
3. Is sewing really as sustainable as most people say?
Most of the hype around sewing is that it's a sustainable alternative to the fast-fashion world. Setting aside the ethical issues surrounding a large part of fast-fashion (a very lengthy and serious issue), the term sustainable seems very suspect. What is sustainability? Most fabrics and threads nowadays are still mass-produced and plenty of stitchers agree that it is impossible to ensure everything you source is sustainable. Perhaps one could argue that it is still better than the alternative.
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003
The apartment is dimly lit and pop music booms out of the stereo Leah had set up just weeks ago. Jaz leans against the kitchen counter and sighs. He could really use a smoke. He could really use a smoke for the past month if he is being honest with himself. Just a small drag of that bittersweet nicotine at the balcony overlooking the streets.
You can’t control yourself. Leah had warned. You’re not allowed to smoke in my apartment. That way I can be sure you’re not smoking all day.
Jaz drums his fingers and straightens up. He needs to socialise. Make himself useful or whatever. He pours out a bag of nachos into a large ceramic bowl, might as well refill the empty one at the coffee table while he’s at it.
“Nice nails, Jaz,” Dan (Adam, maybe?) grins, pulling away from his girlfriend. “Leah abandoned you, already?”
Jaz resists the instinctual need to examine his nails. He’d forgot about them. Some girl in his anatomy class had painted his nails a deep shade of aquamarine blue. Jaz thought they looked nice- she even painted polka dots on his right pinky.
“Bathroom break,” Jaz responds.
“You realise that’s code for she’s talking about you behind your back, right?”
“Fuck off.”
Sometimes, Jaz wished Leah’s friends weren’t all assholes. Maybe then, he would have an easier time getting along with everyone. Just to prove a point, he decides to find Leah. The apartment is large enough and well-insulated enough that the music fades when he enters the bedroom. Clearly, there was more than one person in the bathroom and they were arguing. Very loudly.
“He’s full of red flags! I don’t understand why you even keep him around.” One of Leah’s entourage. Jaz had a sinking feeling Dan might be right, after all. “Your parents won’t even like him.”
“You don’t even know him. He’s trying his best for me, I know it,” Leah’s usual calm voice had reached a pitch Jaz had never heard before, cracking slightly at the end.
“Be honest, Leah,” another one interjects. “He’s a fucking tattoo artist. And you’re telling me he’s going to drop out? That’s just a slippery slope. You know better than this.”
“Look, I’m trying to convince him, alright? He’s not like us –”
“That’s exactly our point, Leah. He’s not like us. And he never will be.”
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002
The Oracle had set up camp across the shop again. Gaudy, purple banners with her poorly photoshopped smug face plastered all over advertised her services.
The Oracle sees all! Past, present and future revealed!
Need to communicate with a long lost loved one? The Oracle can help you!
Is it TRUE LOVE? Find out if he is truly The One here!
Janice sneered at the claims, the batty old witch couldn't afford a place inside the carnival and had instead settled for a corner that just so happened to be one of the main footpaths to the carnival.
"£5 for a palm-reading, £11 for tarot cards and £19 to communicate with spirits. She's gone completely mad!"
Steve paused his calculations of their profits, glancing at the stall and then at the darkening grey sky above. "Not mad enough to stay in that any longer, I hope."
"Wouldn't put it past her,"Janice snorted.
"She's harmless. You antagonize her too much."
The wind howled, rattling the frames of their display windows. Janice frowned. "Did you close the shutters at the back?"
"Shit, I didn't. I'll be right back."
Rolling her eyes, Janice got up to switch on the main lights. With the room bathed in a cool sterile light, she checked that everything was properly locked. Steve may be good with numbers but his memory was questionable at best.
Till. Cabinets. Display. Windows. Door-
She blinked. Was there-? Cautiously, she approached the door, slowly turning the handle (unlocked, damn it, Steve!) and opening it just a fraction of an inch.
"I'm so sorry about this-"
Janice nearly slammed the door on the woman's face from shock. The Oracle lady!
"We're closed," she interrupted cagily. She had no respect for scammers. "Sorry."
The woman shuffled her feet, long bony fingers tightening around the drenched scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Water dripped from her long dark curls onto her freckled cheek.
"Janice? Is everything alright?" Steve poked his face over her shoulder. His eyes trailed from the opened door to the shivering woman. "I swear to god-"
A moment later, the Oracle had settled right into their little shop, gleefully sipping the jasmine tea Steve had poured out for her. Janice shot him a dirty look from behind the counter.
"My family have always been blessed with The Gift," she explained to Steve. "Before this, it was my father and before that his aunt. Unfortunately, I have never met her, but-"
"Why don't you show us your powers, then?"
The Oracle paused. For a moment, Janice wondered if she had pushed too far, but then she smiled and shook her head. "You are too much of a skeptic, my dear. The fates will not like you. But, perhaps I can demonstrate it on your friend."
She snapped her fingers. Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out. Did lightning strike their shop? Janice wondered.
Snap. The table the Oracle was sitting at lit up from the glow of a circle of candles. Under the dancing flames, her worn scarf looked as though it were woven from golden threads, her bangles glimmered and sparkled despite looking scratched and dull mere moments ago.
"You can be our witness, Ms. Janice."
The Oracle clasped Steve's hand, who had fallen into a reverent silence. He appeared to be completely enthralled with her act. She ran a finger along the lines of his palm, her eyes fluttering.
"The sea is calm. Your ship sails smoothly on course to its destination. Mars is looking over you, a gentle guider and protector. However, the shadow of Jupiter looms over the horizon, his envy casts an ugly glow over the evening sky. His wrath will come."
Steve gasped. "What does that mean?"
Janice raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's how palm-reading works, Madame Oracle."
Releasing Steve's hand, the Oracle barely spares Janice a glance. "I am but a mere messenger of the visions granted to me. Though I fear that may not help to convince our companion."
The lights of the candles were snuffed out. Slowly, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered back on.
And the Oracle was gone.
#fortune-telling#writing#fantasy#original writing#how do you format posts???#oracles#janice and steve run a small hybrid craft cafe thing#this got out of hand
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001
“You are Tylanna of the South,” Tyl whispered to herself in the bathhouse she shared with the ladies-in-waiting. Her hair was brown and matted down at her forehead with sweat and dirt. “You. Will. Become. Paladin.”
Three harvest seasons had passed since she was granted her knighthood. And nothing. Not even a single whisper of a promotion. When Paladin Muzan had welcomed Knight Salfinal whom she had dragged out of a river just weeks ago stinking of beer, into their ranks, Tyl had to be physically restrained from shoving the both of them off the cliff where they held the ceremony.
“Your time will come, Knight Tylanna. But, it will not be soon if you continue with this sort of behaviour.”
The Blind Protector’s reprimand on that day had never quite left her. What did he know about brash behaviour? He couldn’t even see! Tyl scrubbed at her hair harder. She knew why she wasn’t Paladin. She was a woman and worse, she was from the South. Why would a Southerner want to serve the Court? You planning to spy on our secrets?
The water had turned a dark murky brown and Tyl carefully drained the tub down the drain making sure there was no trace of mud on the marble floors. Ladies-in-waiting were particular like that. There weren’t enough female knights to justify a separate washroom and no one seemed comfortable with the idea of sharing a common bath. Paladin Darius was vehemently against it proclaiming things such as chastity and shame.
“Morning, Knight Tylanna,” Lady Avarice greeted Tyl. “Busy day training the young squires?”
“It seems like each new one is worse than the last,” Tyl joked as she slipped into more casual clothes. Her round was later in the afternoon and she planned to spend some time in town. “Did you need something, m’lady?”
Lady Avarice twittered and slapped Tyl’s arm playfully. “Oh, Knight Tylanna, always to the point. There is a dance to this sort of thing, you realise? But yes, the King requests an audience with you in the throne room after the court adjourns for lunch.”
Tyl groaned inwardly and thanked her.
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