#Blind Sightseers

[ichristian-news]

☀️ #68 The Blind Sightseers Reminisce: "Santorini" 🇬🇷 (2019)

☀️ #68 The Blind Sightseers Reminisce: “Santorini” 🇬🇷 (2019)

Hidden Santorini – Megalochori & Pyrgos Village, Santorini Santorini charm is in no short supply on this trip. Your first stop is the hilltop village of Megalochori. A higgledy-piggledy mix of blue-domed churches, whitewashed houses and winding alleyways, it showcases some of Santorini’s most attractive architecture. We’ll continue onto the highest point on the island, Profitis Ilias, and…

View On WordPress

#Aegean Shores #Blind Sightseers #Santorini

[maiemorrae]

Testing Some Things...

Been dipping my toes the last week or so into visual novel creation. Doing a mix of learning the code and trying out some art stuff for it. Right now this is the more complete-looking screengrab from my project.

So far I'm thinking of going with this look for characters. It's easy enough for me, who is not very versed in digital art, to do and that limitation of my own skills led me to come up with a very fun narrative reason for this sort of visual.

On the coding side I put together a text-based character creator that lets you do a few things...

Choose a custom name

Choose what pronouns to use

Choose if you are human or azari

Choose (from a selection) of cities in Luctine to be originally from

Choose the name of your sightseer companion

Here you can see some of the different results in action.

For now, choosing how you're addressed is what sets your portrait, I might see if I can make it separate later. Julian is using the He/Him portrait, Lilira is using the She/Her portrait, and Avery is using the They/Them portrait. I also want to see if I can have it so that your heritage choice (human or azari) would effect the portrait.

Here are the character portraits I've done so far if you want to see them outside the text boxes. (The grey version in the previous pics is the old version) In the game, you play as the partially blind owner of a bookshop in Postlow and will see some of the very ordinary and normal goings on in the life of a shopkeeper with your trusty sightseer companion by your side.

And lastly, the one full character image I've done. Say hello to Aria, an azari servant who is fiercely loyal to her enigmatic patron.

#luctine #creative writing #renpy #gamedev #indiedev

[sims-half-crazy]

🍂 ROUND 1 | MOUNT KOMOREBI | AUTUMN🍂

Main Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer

Megumi Ito had been one of the first people that Moira had met in Mt. Komorebi and she'd become a very good friend these last few months. Megumi was a good listener and provided very good advice. When Megumi had suggested they go hiking together, Moira was excited to explore these trails with someone. She'd only ever gone alone and, surely, Megumi would know of some hidden gems. Unfortunately, Megumi had the sense of direction of a blind squirrel and they ended up back at the Cave Shrine. Their trek to the cave was not without it's issues and Moira ended up a little worse for wear. On the way back to town, they saw the Temple in the distance and had a wonderful experience with some fireflies.

#ts4globetrotter #sims4 #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 challenge #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 gameplay #ts4 vanilla #Moira's Misadventures

[scholarlycait]

★ Octopath: CotC — Battle-Tested Weapon Guide ★

── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ──

About

Battle-Tested (BT) weapons, by themselves, will likely remain the most useful weapons in the game for a very long time, and even afterwards can be used for powerful upgrades. They can be optained by fighting the Lv. 85 NPCs scattered in different towns across the map.

Beating a BT NPC for the first time rewards you with their respective weapon and a Historic Material, which, in the future, can be traded for a bunch of useful things at the exchange. It also grants you a feat worth 100 Rubies and 100 influence points for Wealth, Power and Fame.

Every 20 hours, you can battle them again, which means it’s possible to farm them for both the Historic Material and a ~10% chance to drop another BT weapon upon being defeated. This drop rate also applies for getting the weapons by impressing them repeatedly, which can be done as often as you like, without having to wait another 20 hours. If you plan on farming the weapons, the aforementioned method is recommended until they are added to the exchange.

── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ──

Currently available:

BT Axe (Great Architect) in Valore - Weak to Staff/Dark

BT Bow (Tottering Old Man) in Emberglow - Weak to Fan/Light

BT Tome (Master of Books) in Theatropolis - Weak to Dagger/Wind

BT Spear (Energetic Old Woman) in Rippletide - Weak to Bow/Fire 

After completing their town’s Expert Hunt:

BT Dagger (Powerful Pauper) in Cragspear - Weak to Sword/Lightning

BT Staff (Reflective Grandma) in Clearbrook - Weak to Tome/Wind

BT Fan (“Sandcat” Dancer) in Sunshade - Weak to Axe/Ice

BT Sword (Former Warrior) in Shepherds Rock - Weak to Spear/Ice

── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ──

Useful Allies:

In General - All Weaknesses Argumentative Man (Victors Hollow) - Lower Shield Points (3×) Theatre Receptionist (Theatropolis) - Elem. Def. Down 15% (turns: 4) Longsword Mercenary (Victors Hollow) - 1× Sword + Phys. Def. Down 20% (turns: 3) Veteran Announcer (Victors Hollow) - Raise Phys. Atk., Elem. Atk., and Critical of Front by 15% (turns: 3) Chatty Old Woman (Shepherds Rock) - Raise Phys. Atk., Elem. Atk., and Critical of Front by 15% (turns: 3) Proud Knight Ardante (Flamesgrace) - Raise Phys. Def. and Elem. Def. of Front by 20% (turns: 3) Well-connected Merchant (Flamesgrace) - Restore SP of Front (amount: 50) Woman Drawing Water (Sunshade) - Grant Front automatic HP recovery (turns: 3/potency: 120)

BT Axe - Weak to Staff/Dark Hardworking Cleric (Flamesgrace) - 2× Staff Heartsick Believer (Cathedral of Tytos) - 2× Staff Defeated Gambler (Victors Hollow) - 1-5× Staff Alcohol-hating Man (Cragspear) - 2× Dark Eloped Man (Victors Hollow) - 2× Dark Jumpy Parishoner (Cathedral of Tytos) - Moderate chance to inflict with blindness (turns: 3) and lower Dark Res. by 15% (turns: 3) Insomniac (Cathedral of Tytos) - 1× Tome and lower Dark Res. by 20% (turns: 4)

BT Bow - Weak to Fan/Light Straight-faced Man (Sunshade) - 2× Fan Former Dancer (Flamesgrace) - 2× Fan Resolute Noblewoman (Donescu) - 3× Fan Iron-loving Merchant (Shepherds Rock) - 2× Light Zealot (Flamesgrace) - 2× Light Elderly Cleric (Flamesgrace) - 2× Light Head of the Artisan's Guild (Cathedral of Tytos) - 1× Tome and lower Light Res. by 15% (turns: 3)

BT Tome - Weak to Dagger/Wind Former Actor (Sunshade) - 2× Dagger Industrious Gardener (Shepherds Rock) - 2× Dagger Cheerful Acrobat (Shepherds Rock) - 3× Dagger Argumentative Man (Victors Hollow) - 3× Dagger Lamas Company Merchant (Sunshade) - 2× Wind Man Confronting Tyranny (Cragspear) - 3× Wind Ambitious Hunter (Flamesgrace) - 3× Wind Traveling Gourmand (Victors Hollow) - Lower Wind Res. by 20% (turns: 3)

BT Spear - Weak to Bow/Fire Marina (Rippletide) - 3× Bow Nimble Carpenter (Shepherds Rock) - 3× Bow Confident Fisherwoman (Rippletide) - 2× Fire Magg the Cook (Clearbrook) - 2× Fire Avaricious Merchant (Flamesgrace) - 3× Fire

BT Dagger - Weak to Sword/Lightning Capital Sightseer (Cragspear) - 3× Sword Once-aspiring Knight (Shepherds Rock) - 3× Sword Destitute Gladiator (Victors Hollow) - 3× Sword Timid Novice Knight Ardante (Cathedral of Tytos) - 3× Sword

BT Staff - Weak to Tome/Wind Cynical Pauper (Cragspear) - 2× Tome Religious Scholar (Flamesgrace) - 2× Tome Scholarly Soldier (Shepherds Rock) - 2× Tome Lamas Company Merchant (Sunshade) - 2× Wind Man Confronting Tyranny (Cragspear) - 3× Wind Ambitious Hunter (Flamesgrace) - 3× Wind Traveling Gourmand (Victors Hollow) - Lower Wind Res. by 20% (turns: 3)

BT Fan (“Sandcat” Dancer) in Sunshade - Weak to Axe/Ice Elderly Apothecary (Donescu) - 2× Axe and moderate chance to inflict poison Gold Hunter (Cragspear) - 3× Axe Entrance Guard (Clearbrook) - 3× Axe Tony's Mother (Rippletide) - 2× Ice Brave Tavern Maid (Sunshade) - 2× Ice Shivering Grandmother (Flamesgrace) - Lower Ice Res. by 25% (turns: 3)

BT Sword (Former Warrior) in Shepherds Rock - Weak to Spear/Ice Chatty Housewife (Shepherds Rock) - 2× Spear Fur Dealer (Flamesgrace) - 2× Spear Mont d'Or (Victors Hollow) - 3× Spear Distraught Fisherman (Donescu) - 3× Spear Tony's Mother (Rippletide) - 2× Ice Brave Tavern Maid (Sunshade) - 2× Ice Shivering Grandmother (Flamesgrace) - Lower Ice Res. by 25% (turns: 3)

NPC/Ally index made by /u/Ioregnak on Reddit (spreadsheet) Updated NPC/Ally index made by Aergia (spreadsheet) NPC/Ally index made by me (with pictures)

── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ──

Other Guides

Text Guide by /u/arkkus on Reddit

Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Longbow Master - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Great Architect - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Master of Books - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Energetic Old Woman - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Powerful Pauper - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Reflective Grandma - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky ("Sandcat” Dancer - 4★ and 3★ only) Video Guide by Empyrean Sky (Former Warrior - 4★ and 3★ only)

(If there are any other good guides, please let me know! I will add them to this list immediately.)

── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ──

#octopath traveler #champions of the continent #octopath cotc #guide #bt npcs #bt weapons #battle-tested

[ithisatanytime]

Let's Ride

alright tumblr, lets unpack this!

No count was made of people blinded at Hiroshima and Nagasaki;

ok starting off highly suspect but we covered this, NO count was made? really? is there an estimate?

perhaps few people were looking into the sky at the right moment.

perhaps few people were looking in the sky at the right moment? the fuck you mean a few? maybe everyone at hiroshima was blinded so how could it be a fucking few? you start by saying no count was made instead of just saying no one was blinded (outside what youd expect from severe napalm burns) you say perhaps few people were looking at the sky (LOL) which heavily implies no one was blinded, so why not just say that? why is it so important to obfuscate the fuck out of this answer?

If modern bombs attract more sightseers, they will blind them at greater distances than four miles, for they are far brighter than the nominal bombs were.

  and it just ends with this, like what the fuck is this hypothetical, if modern bombs attract more sightseers... what? and then just back into scare tactics, its unreal, this is exactly like when you used to google shit like “why were their hospitals and midwives delivering jewish babies at the german death camps” and the answer would be a complete nonanswer that was purporting to answer that very common (and damn good) question, but instead of even attempting to answer why hitler was wasting resources treating the ill and delivering the infants of people he was murdering wholesale, they give you an emotionally wroguht horror story about experiments being performed where these babies would be ripped from their mothers arms and something pervy jew shit about breast milk i cant remember it was years ago when i searched that. its the same thing, they will use emotional tactics to shame you for having the nerve for asking such questions but they wont answer them.

#youtube

[books-i-finished-reading]

(18)

Clockwork Prince - Cassandra Clare

( The infernal devices - book 2/3 )

15th February 2023

" When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind's eye always with a book in your hand."

Something in him was broken, and through that break spilled a blind cruelty, a need to hurt and to push away.

" ... if I were a man - would you have treated me as you just did?"

" Will, Jessamine, do try not to kill each other while I am gone."

" Reparations," said Jem very suddenly, setting down the pen he was holding. Will looked at him in puzzlement. "Is this a game? We just blurt out whatever word comes next to mind? In that case mine's 'genuphobia'. It means an unreasonable fear of knees." "What's the word for a perfectly reasonable fear of annoying idiots?" inquired Jessamine.

" Anyway, the last time I was here, everyone was living in mud huts and eating bugs. So I doubt he was around" -he pointed a many-jointed finger at Will -"unless Earthkind lives much longer than I was led to believe."

Will looked down at his bitten nails. "I will probably be reborn as a slug that someone salts."

" What is one person's pleasure is another's poison ..."

" You won't like it." Tessa was unmoved. "I won't know if I like it until I try it, will I?" "I've never swum naked in the Thames, but I know I wouldn't like it." "But think how entertaining for sightseers," said Tessa, and she saw Jem duck his head to hide the quick flash of his grin.

" ... It is me. I am poison. Poison to them. Poison to anyone who loves me."

" No one can live with nothing," he whispered. "Jem is all I have."

" I must play the part of another person all day, each day-bitter and vicious and cruel-"

" khalepa ta kale" ... " ... 'beauty is harsh.'"

" You cannot buy or drug or dream your way out of pain."

" Eggs," said Henry dreamily, looking at his plate. "I do love eggs. I could eat them all day." ... "You might be surprised to know," said Will, "that I saw something rather interesting in the opium den." "I'm sure you did," said Charlotte with asperity. "Was it an egg?" Henry inquired.

" ... the sins of the fathers should not be visited on the sons." "Or the daughters," said Will.

But all these were things he could not want, because they were things he could not have, and wanting what you could not have led to misery and madness.

" and as for him being a witness, well, everyone thinks Will is a lunatic as it is-". "Ah," said a voice from the doorway, "having your annual everyone-thinks-Will-is-a-lunatic meeting, are you?" "It's biannual," said Jem. "And no, this is not that meeting."

" ... I have important business to get to. I plan to sulk all afternoon, followed, perhaps, by an evening of Byronic brooding and a nighttime of dissipation."

" I've never minded it," he went on. "Being lost, that is. I had always thought one could not be truly lost if one knew one's own heart. But I fear I may be lost without knowing yours."

Better not to think about it; better not to hope and be disappointed.

" It is always better to live the truth than to live a lie."

" I cannot explain love," he said. "I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking towards me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you. That you were the centre of everything I did and felt and thought."

" You are home for me now."

" Astriola," he said. "That is demon pox. You had evidence that demon pox existed and you didn't mention it to me! Et tu, Brute!" He rolled up the paper and hit Jem over the head with it. "Ouch!" Jem rubbed his head ruefully.

" ... We live and breathe words. It was books that kept me from taking my own life after I thought I could never love anyone, never be loved by anyone again. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them."

[awkwardpariah]

Olympus Mons or simply Mount Olympus to most modern Martians is about as true to its name as you can be. Vaulting 22km into the sky and with a base 624km wide, larger than the terran state of Arizona, this mountain dominates everything, including the state that bares its name. Making up more than half of the state's available landmass, Mt. Olympus is home to the largest glacier south of either pole, a glacier that feeds virtually every major river in its immediate vicinity and shields Olympus's western banks from the frigid air of the rest of Tharsis, giving the state a pleasant microclimate closer to the rest of the Amazonas basin. During the winter, there's a phenomenon called the Olympian Sunrise, in which the light of the setting sun is reflected off of the enormous glacier and creates the image of a second sun in the east, causing Olympus to have virtually no twilight. The downside of this is that the mountain is so tall that the actual sunrise takes until around 10am to crest the peak. During the summer, the glacial melt causes the cliffs to weep as enormous waterfalls pour over the cliffsides of the shield volcano. Western Tharsis and its rocky shoals make poor ports for maritime trade, however efforts to dredge the Zeus channel into a deep water port have made Olympus, at the very least, the richest among the poorest in shipping. Trade is not what defines Olympus, but rather mining and of course the tourism industry as climbers from across the solar system venture there to try their luck at the great mountain, or perhaps catch a glimpse of some of the only remaining Olympic Razorback dragons, of which only a handful of specimens are believed to survive in the thin air and almost pre-terraforming atmosphere near the Olympian peak. Base camp is set at the state capita of New Denver, one of the few remaining cities who's population still lives largely below ground in the vast network of lava tubes beneath the mountain. The entrance is a massive structure of carved basalt, itself a major destination for sightseers, and a monument to the early Martian architectural style that merged Grecian classical with the American frontier. Beneath the mountain tens of thousands of humans and millions of drones work in the state's seemingly endless network of tunnels in service to the mining industry. Compared to the idyllic mountain town, or the bright limestone metropolis of Thessaly, New Denver Under the Mountain is a far more ethereal place, unlike any other in the state. Rowhouses carved into its tunnels near the entrance eventually give way to fewer and fewer signs of human activity, save for glowing handprints that dot the tunnel walls, the result of bioluminescent fungi engineered to feed on the residual oils left by the hands of passing travelers. At least 3 people vanish beneath the mountain every month, lost in the never ending maze of lava tubes. Among the tourists, a popular rumor is that the delvers were taken by pale skinned, blind creatures of almost human intelligence. Native Martians, long forgotten Gods, or the corrupted offspring of generations of lost delvers? Who knows... but be sure to get your t-shirts in the gift shop before leaving. This is another collaboration with FTWinckless On reddit: www.reddit.com/user/Rubikia/su… His instagram feed: www.instagram.com/ftwinckless/

#mars #map #cartography #sci-fi #olympus mons #future #worldbuilding #second renaissance

[starrysnowdrop]

A Breath of Respite

Yume Aino x G’raha Tia with mentions of Yume Aino x Cid Garlond

Conversation between my WoL and the Crystal Exarch; spoilers for Shadowbringers up until lvl 78 quest “A Breath of Respite”.

Yes, I’m aware that I’m a day late with this, but I got it out so I’m proud of myself! Please let me know what you think about this. Feel free to post your own WIP and tag me so I can read it!

“Then this may be the last moment we have to ourselves for a while. Come, sit with me,” The Exarch said with a gentle smile and a voice sweet and enticing.

Yume’s eyes widened for a brief moment as the memory of the same line spoken with an all too familiar tone came flooding back to her:

With mismatched eyes of fierce blood red and calming cyan blue gazing up at her through locks of blazing red, the Miqo’te man removed the lute from his lap, setting it against the tree in which he was resting under and patted the ground next to him. “Come, sit with me.”

Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest as Yume pushed the image from her mind. This man sitting in front of her may sound like him, smile like him, and act like him, but for all she knows, it is not him. It was probably just a figment of her imagination, a delusion conjured from her deepest desire to see the man that haunts her dreams every night… the one that she lost all those years ago.

The same questions that Yume had when she first arrived in the First came back to her once again… the same ones that she could never find any answers to, no matter how many times that she would dwell on the mystery.

If the Crystal Exarch was truly him, why would he lie and say that he had never heard of G’raha Tia? Why would he hide himself from her? What has he to gain from keeping his identity a secret, even from everyone in the Crystarium? Even if it was really him, how did he get to the First in the first place?

No, dwelling on such matters would avail her naught. She must continue to act as she has done ever since her arrival in this world: go along with the Exarch’s charade, keeping her own council, pretending as though her heart is not in the deepest turmoil, ignoring the flame that burns inside her for this shrouded man who constantly reminds her of the one person whose memory she has carried with her since he locked himself in slumber.

With a nod, Yume sat next to the Exarch, careful to not sit too close, but close enough that she could aid him if he needed her assistance.

His voice broke the silence, interrupting her thoughts, “Tell me, when all of this is over, what will you do?”

“All I know is that I want to rest, for a long while,” Yume answered with a sigh.

“That would be well deserved. You might consider roaming Norvrandt not as her savior, but as a simple sightseer. Viewed through such eyes, I am certain she would seem quite different.”

Yume smiled at the pleasant thought. “I think… I would like that very much.”

“Oh, and what of your upcoming nuptials? Surely that is something you are looking forward to.”

The Raen’s eyes snapped open at the mention of her upcoming wedding. So much has happened during her time in the First, and so much of her time has been taken up with the mystery surrounding the Exarch’s identity and Emet-Selch’s plans that her fiancé had been pushed to the far back of her mind.

A wave of guilt crashed over her as Yume wearily replied, “So, you know about that too.”

The Exarch nodded. “Alphinaud had mentioned it briefly in our sojourn to Eulmore while you and the others were in Rak’tika.”

“I see.”

“Pray forgive me if it was too personal of a topic. I did not mean to pry.”

“No it’s alright. It’s just…” Yume looked towards the blinding everlasting light and took a deep breath. Was she really about to voice what is in her heart to the enigmatic figure before her? Before she could second guess herself, she spit it out, “I’m not so sure that I even want to get married anymore.”

The Exarch’s mouth fell open as he cautiously replied, “M-May I ask why?”

“Well, I always did want to marry for love. I defied my father’s wishes, vowed that I would rather die than marry whoever my father wanted to me to, and ended up being disowned and banished from my home for it. So, when Cid asked me to marry him, in that moment, I thought that I would soon have the chance to marry for love. But… now… it seems like if I went through with it, I’d be making a very big mistake.”

The Exarch looked intently at Yume, listening to her every word, which spurned her to continue with her confession.

“Cid deserves better than me. He deserves to marry someone who isn’t in love with someone else… even if that someone else is all but a memory now.”

“Someone else?”

“Yes… I didn’t fully understand what was in my heart all along until fairly recently, but looking back now, it’s all so clear. When he… left… I was just so lonely that I ended up clinging to Cid, in hopes of moving on with my life. Yet, I don’t think I ever could move on. I never did. So, when this is all over, I plan to tell Cid everything. He needs to know the truth.”

As if he was struggling to find the right words, the Exarch clumsily responded, “I-I see… t-thank you for sharing this with me. It warms my heart to know that you felt comfortable enough to tell me. I hope that you will continue to let your heart guide you… for it won’t steer you wrong.”

#wip wednesday #ffxiv fanfiction #crystal exarch #g’raha tia #graha tia #grahawol #wolgraha #cid garlond #cid nan garlond #yume aino #oc: paint it black #yume x cid #ship: memories like scars #yume x g’raha #ship: evermore

[mytwilightimagines13]

Memories from the past (Part five)(Caius Volturi)

Word count: 2043

The street was very narrow, cobbled with the same colour stones as the faded cinnamon brown buildings that darkened the street with their shade. It had the feel of an alleyway. Red flags decorated the walls, spaced only a few yards apart, flapping in the wind that whistled through the narrow lane. It was crowded, and the foot traffic slowed our progress. We found another street at the end. The buildings were taller here; they leaned together overhead so that no sunlight touched the pavement—the thrashing red flags on either side nearly met. The crowd was thicker here than anywhere else. We continued the walk through the shadows, even when we reached the plaza with the clock tower in the middle. Coming out of the dark lane, I was blinded by the brilliant sunlight beating down into the principal plaza. The wind whooshed into me, flinging my hair into my eyes and blinding me further. I pushed urgently toward it, not realizing till I bruised my shins against the bricks that there was a wide, square fountain set into the center of the plaza. I glanced up at the clock again. Some sort of pull lured me towards it.

A deep, booming chime echoed through the square. It throbbed in the stones under my feet. Children cried, covering their ears. Alice pulled me towards them back into the shadows. The clock tolled again. We ran past a child in his mother's arms—his hair was almost white in the dazzling sunlight. A circle of tall men, all wearing red blazers, called out warnings as we barrelled through them. The clock tolled again. On the other side of the men in blazers, there was a break in the throng, space between the sightseers who milled aimlessly around me. My eyes searched the dark narrow passage to the right of the wide square edifice under the tower. I couldn't see the street level—there were still too many people in the way. The clock tolled again. It was hard to see now. Without the crowd to break the wind, it whipped at my face and burned my eyes. That was the way we went, towards even more shadows. Edward walked in front of me while Alice walked behind me, gently pushing me into the right direction. I was so mesmerised by the small town and the beautiful plaza it contained that I hadn’t seen the two dark shapes detach themselves from the gloom. "Greetings, gentlemen," Edward's voice was calm and pleasant. “The girl as promised.” “And no harm done. We made sure of that.” Alice said, her hand still on my lower back. "Very well. Shall we take this conversation to a more appropriate venue?" a smooth voice whispered menacingly. “Very well.” Alice said as she gently pushed me for ward. “I will take it from here, miss.” The smooth voice spoke again, walking closer towards me. “Very well, Demetri.” Alice said as she took a step back and the other took a step closer to me, now occupying the spot Alice just seconds ago held. I finally dared to take a closer look at the newcomers. They were both concealed within smoky gray cloaks that reached to the ground and undulated in the wind. The second, taller man still hadn’t moved, but I felt his glare on me. “How can we be sure this isn’t some trick?” he asked. “Your Masters can confirm that it isn’t, as you should know, Felix.” Edward said in a harsh tone. The one named Felix growled at him. Wait, what? Humans can’t growl. "Felix," the second, more reasonable shadow named Demetri cautioned. "Not here." He turned to Edward. "My apologies, Edward. We have had some… disappointments in the past. That is all." My eyes were adjusting to the deep shade, and I could see that Felix was very big, tall and thick through the shoulders. Felix and Demetri stole closer toward the mouth of the alley, spreading out slightly so they could come at us from two sides, forcing us closer into the alley. "Let's behave ourselves, shall we?" Alice suggested. "There are ladies present." "Enough." The voice was high, reedy, and n came from behind us. I peeked under Edward's other arm to see a small, dark shape coming toward us. By the way the edges billowed, I knew it would be another one of them. Who else? At first I thought it was a young boy. The newcomer was as tiny as Alice, with lank, pale brown hair trimmed short. The body under the cloak—which was darker, almost black—was slim and androgynous. But the face was too pretty for a boy. The wide-eyed, full-lipped face would make a Botticelli angel look like a gargoyle. Even allowing for the dull crimson irises. Her size was so insignificant that the reaction to her appearance confused me. Felix and Demetri relaxed immediately, stepping back from their offensive positions to blend again with the shadows of the overhanging walls. Edward dropped his arms and relaxed his position as well—but in defeat. "Jane," he sighed in recognition and resignation. Alice folded her arms across her chest, her expression impassive. "Follow me," Jane spoke again, her childish voice a monotone. She turned her back on us and drifted silently into the dark. Felix gestured for us to go first, smirking. Alice walked after the little Jane at once, Edward following her at once. “After you, mia bella signora.” Demetri said as he gently pushed me to follow them, my confusion most

likely clear on my face. The alley angled slightly downward as it narrowed. My mind was racing as my feet moved forward on automatic pilot mode. What was going on? Where these people some kind of cult? Would I be sacrificed to their blood lusting god? There was a loose curve to the alley, still slanting downward, so I didn't see the squared-off dead end coming until we reached the flat, windowless, brick face. The little one called Jane was nowhere to be seen. Alice didn't hesitate, didn't break pace as she strode toward the wall. Then, with easy grace, she slid down an open hole in the street. It looked like a drain, sunk into the lowest point of the paving. I hadn't noticed it until Alice disappeared, but the grate was halfway pushed aside. The hole was small, and black. I stopped dead in my tracks. “With all due respect, I refuse to simply fall to my death thank you very much.” I said, trying to find a way to run far away from these people. “No worries, signora. Just close your eyes and I assure you that you will be safe.” Demetri said as he gently placed his hands around my waist. I sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way out of this. I was doomed. Death was approaching with every heartbeat. “Very well.” I closed my eyes so I couldn't see the darkness, scrunching them together in terror, clamping my mouth shut so I wouldn't scream. I felt Demetri pick me up slightly and jump down the hole. It was silent and short. The air whipped past me for just half a second, and then, with a huff as I exhaled, he gracefully landed on the floor without a sound. Demetri stood me upright and placed his hand on my back again, ready to guide me forwards. It was dim, but not black at the bottom. The light from the hole above provided a faint glow, reflecting wetly from the stones under my feet. Felix jumped behind us and we continued our stroll in silence. The sound of the heavy grate sliding over the drain hole behind us rang with metallic finality. The dim light from the street was quickly lost in the gloom. The sound of my staggering footsteps echoed through the black space; it sounded very wide, but I couldn't be sure. There were no sounds other than my frantic heartbeat and my feet on the wet stones. The path beneath our feet continued to slant downward, taking us deeper into the ground, and it made me claustrophobic. I couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but it slowly turned dark gray instead of black. We were in a low, arched tunnel. Long trails of ebony moisture seeped down the gray stones, like they were bleeding ink. We hurried through the tunnel, or it felt like hurrying to me. At the end of the tunnel was a grate—the iron bars were rusting, but thick as my arm. A small door made of thinner, interlaced bars was standing open. We all ducked through and hurried on to a larger, brighter stone room. The grille slammed shut with a clang, followed by the snap of a lock. I was too afraid to look behind me. On the other side of the long room was a low, heavy wooden door. It was very thick—as I could tell.

We were in a brightly lit and unremarkable hallway. The walls were off-white, the floor carpeted in industrial gray. Common rectangular fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along the ceiling. It was warmer here, for which I was grateful. This hall seemed very benign after the gloom of the ghoulish stone sewers. The heavy door creaked shut behind us, and then there was the thud of a bolt sliding home. Jane waited by the elevator, one hand holding the doors open for us. Her expression was apathetic. Once inside the elevator, the three figures with cloaks seemed to relax further. They threw back their cloaks, letting the hoods fall back on their shoulders. Felix and Demetri were both of a slightly olive complexion—it looked odd combined with their chalky pallor. Felix's black hair was cropped short, but Demetri's waved to his shoulders. Their irises were deep crimson around the edges, darkening until they were black around the pupil. Under the shrouds, their clothes were modern, pale, and nondescript. I cowered in the corner, cringing against the wall, their red eyes freaking me out even more. They were most defiantly a cult. And I was the stupid lamb that jumped happily and unknowingly into their bloody arms. Bloody hell. Stupid lamb I am. The elevator ride was short; we stepped out into what looked like a posh office reception area. The walls were panelled in wood, the floors carpeted in thick, deep green. There were no windows, but large, brightly lit paintings of the Tuscan countryside hung everywhere as replacements. Pale leather couches were arranged in cosy groupings, and the glossy tables held crystal vases full of vibrantly coloured bouquets. The flowers' smell reminded me of a funeral home. In the middle of the room was a high, polished mahogany counter. I gawked in astonishment at the woman behind it. She was tall, with dark skin and green eyes. She smiled politely in welcome. "Good afternoon, Jane," she said. Jane nodded. "Gianna." She continued toward a set of double doors in the back of the room, and we followed. As Felix passed the desk, he winked at Gianna, and she giggled. On the other side of the wooden doors was a different kind of reception. The pale boy in the pearl gray suit could have been Jane's twin. His hair was darker, and his lips were not as full, but he was just as lovely. He came forward to meet us. He smiled, reaching for her. "Jane." "Alec," she responded, embracing the boy. They kissed each other's cheeks on both sides. Then he looked at the group before his eyes landed on me with curiosity. "Is this really her?" he noted, looking at me. Jane nodded, a proud look on her face. "Nice work." She laughed—the sound sparkled with delight like a baby's cooing. "The Masters will be so glad to finally meet you, madam. Master Caius and Mistress Athenodora especially.” Alec said, speaking to me directly now. I only looked at him in confusion "Let's not keep them waiting," Jane suggested. Alec and Jane, holding hands, led the way down yet another wide, ornate hall. Yup. I was going to die. To some weird BDSM cult… great. Stupid little lamb I am.

#caius volturi #athenodora volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #twilight imagine #twilight #vampire

[ichristian-news]

☀️ #67 The Blind Sightseers Reminisce: "Elounda & Spinalonga, Crete" 🇬🇷 (2019)

☀️ #67 The Blind Sightseers Reminisce: “Elounda & Spinalonga, Crete” 🇬🇷 (2019)

Wow…Sarah & i are setting our clocks forward 2 hours whilst travelling back to antiquity to see some of the places the apostle Paul visited on his epic journey through the book of Acts.We will get to visit Athens and Mars Hill, Ephesus and Crete. And while in Crete we get to visit the island of Spinalounga which is where Sarah has always wanted to visit. And the other 2 days we’ll get to visit…

View On WordPress

#Aegean Shores #Blind Sightseers #Corfu #Elounda #Greece Holidays #Spinalonga

[deathonyourtongue]

Sanguine Nocturnus | 3

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Thank you to everyone who’s been so excited and supportive of this one. I can’t even begin to tell y’all how much good stuff is in store for y’all!

The sun seemed different in Rome. Brighter, more nourishing somehow. Carla watched how the early morning light played against the soapy bubbles she brushed along her skin, smiling at the oil-slick colors and the sharp bursts of white whenever one popped. Even plain water looked different as it flowed over her, Carla admiring the little sunbursts that topped her pert nipples as the water brought goosebumps to nearly every inch of her. 

The water, so far, was her only complaint. Harder than what she was used to in New York, it had forced her to switch from her favorite shampoo to an Italian brand that promised to work even with the most mineral-deposited water; it was no wonder the locals preferred to drink bottled spring water wherever they went. Even her apartment’s size didn’t bother Carla. What her unit lacked in space, it more than made up for in natural light, French doors opened out to small verandas on each side of her corner unit, and medium-sized windows next to her front door gave Carla a scenic view of her building’s courtyard.

Stepping out of the shower, Carla took a moment to look at herself in the mirror, her smile growing in excitement as she thought about what the night would hold. Having been kind enough to give her a week to acclimate, Romulus’ owner had asked that she work her first shift on Friday the 13th. Far from being leery of the date, Carla found it only fitting given the atmosphere of the bar. Remembering she had all day to play sightseer again, she padded into her room to get dressed, only to find a big, near-blinding ray of sun sweeping across her bed. 

Dropping her towel, Carla crawled back into bed with a grin, intent on enjoying the sun for just a moment longer while the residual water dried on her legs. There was something daring about being nude just inside a second-story window, and while back home she would have drawn a crowd of gawkers in the building across the street, her view now held only the Palazzo Borghese, the blue sky, and the tans and terracottas of Rome. In short, she was in heaven. 

Since landing in Rome and settling into her apartment, Carla had decided that each day, she would pick a direction, and walk, intent on simply seeing the city as organically as possible. Some days she ended up at the Colosseum, marveling over the ruins, and others, in a little bookstore that specialized in first editions and rare finds. It kept the lonely and restless nature of her mind at bay, and in her opinion, was the best way to honor her mother’s wishes and heritage. 

Carla’s walk took her to the ruins of the Stadium of Domitian, and for the first time since arriving at Rome, her fascination for history was paralleled by an anxiety that she was wasting her degree. Having studied History at NYU, she’d always banked on getting a job at a museum or a library, but with each rejection, that dream had become further and further away. Now, with an opportunity to start anew, she wanted to try that path again. The more she walked through the ancient archways and old relics, the more confident she became that she would make something of herself, even after all this time.  

After a light lunch in the nearby piazza, Carla made her way home, stopping to grab a few things at the pharmacy and the little market near her apartment. One thing was certain, the pace in Rome was far more to her liking than home had ever been, and though the city was bustling, she didn’t feel the constant rush to get everything done like she had in New York. It eased her stress in a way she hadn’t even considered, and by the time she was back in her apartment, Carla felt light as air. 

Unsure of whether Romulus allowed their employees to eat dinner on-site, Carla made an early plate of pasta and readied herself for work. Donning black jeans, a black t-shirt, and her most trusted pair of boots, she added a deep red lip, feeling as though the color would not only act as a counterpoint to all the black, but that it would suit the mood of the bar. Nervous butterflies flitted through her stomach as she threw on a black motorcycle jacket and headed for the door, hoping she’d done enough to impress her new boss. 

Romulus’ owner, Fredo, was just as warm and complimentary in person as he’d been over the phone, and in no time, Carla had made herself at home behind the bar, grateful not only for the job, but for the fact that she had full control of her space. There were no other bartenders to contend with, no toes to step on. She was given free reign to do things her way, and that was more than enough to set her at ease. The only thing she’d been warned not to do was get rid of a drink called Sanguinem, one Carla had honestly never heard of. 

Coming in an ornate deep blue bottle with a crystal stopper, it looked like the design and marketing hadn’t changed since its inception. Curious, she’d poured herself a half shot of the stuff while on her first break and swirled it around in her mouth, spitting it out just as fast as she’d drank it. Sharp and metallic, she’d barely been able to pick up hints of blackcurrant and cherry before her mind had told her to eject the liquid. Intensely interested in finding out what kind of person would order such a foul-tasting concoction, Carla spent the first half of her shift hoping someone would order it. 

It would be two weeks before anyone did.

Despite having spoken Italian with her mother all her life, Carla had found herself freezing when she had to converse with native speakers, her mind tongue-tying her to the point where those she was speaking with often took pity on her and switched to English. Still, despite the occasional language barrier, Carla found Italians, as a whole, far more agreeable customers than their American counterparts. People were simply happy to be out and enjoying themselves, and they couldn’t be bothered to berate someone who was plying them with drinks. The laid back attitude helped her settle at Romulus, in much that same way she’d eased into Italian life in general and though there were times when her anxiety about the future still plagued her, most nights, she was too busy to even give it a second thought. 

On the first Saturday in December, Carla’s routine set of faces and orders changed, anxiety once more taking a back seat to the group of three stunning creatures that walked into Romulus unannounced, but very much known by the other customers. Carla watched, fascinated, as some of the patrons all but threw their money at her in their haste to leave, while others moved tables and seats closer to the semi-circular booth the group had chosen at their location for the night. Those who left seemed disturbed, and those who stayed, entranced. Without even needing to think about it, Carla knew she fell into the latter category; the two men and one woman all looked like demigods. 

Dressed almost too formally for the bar, the tallest of the three caught her eye first. Dark curls hung just to his brow, framing a jaw that seemed cut from marble and was nearly the same color as the statues of old. It was his eyes that took Carla’s breath away however, their shade reminiscent of tropical waters, their intensity almost neon. Wearing an all black suit with the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a thick thatch of hair, Carla was certain he could have any woman in Romulus that he so much as looked at.

His friends were no slouches either, the other man wearing a navy suit with a cream turtleneck, and the woman wearing a dress that had all the hallmarks of being couture and vintage. All three were brunettes of differing shades, their hair color setting off the pallor of their skin and the alien-like brightness of their eyes. They were, in short, immaculate. 

When the man in the turtleneck rose and made his way over to the bar, Carla forgot where she was. She watched his lips move, not hearing a word of what was said, too caught up in his overall presence to pay any attention to what was happening. It wasn’t until she realized he was waving his hand in front of her face that Carla came to her senses. Blushing, she shook her head and gave him her best smile. 

“What can I get you?” She asked, stumbling over her Italian and feeling the temperature in the room go up several notches as the man smiled back. 

“Two bottles of Sanguinem, and three chilled coupes, please.” The man’s words felt like they were coming from inside her own head and Carla was once more left rooted into place, unable to process how he could make himself be heard so clearly over the din of the music and other patrons. 

Blinking hard, she moved to grab the bottles, glad that she’d done her prep work prior to opening and that she had several of each kind of glass in the chiller, ready to go. Carla made a mental note of the type of stemware that paired with the drink, wondering if there’d be any variation in how it was taken; straight, on the rocks, or with a twist. 

The man in the turtleneck nodded his thanks, tapping one long finger against the list next to the till,  on top of the name Vinicius. Nodding her understanding that he had a tab with the bar, Carla watched as he headed back to the table and began to serve the other two, her glance quickly moving towards the dancefloor when all three of them turned to look at her with their piercing gazes.

#henry cavill #henry x ofc #sanguine nocturnus #deathonyourtongueoriginals

[heart-4-brainz]

each hour drags on like a year

almost a century gone in four days

i’m a blind sightseer swooning over

a toppled monument decayed

i’m biting past my cuticles

so much once my fingers bled

the days drag on mercilessly

as i slowly drown in my regret

i can’t even open up my curtains

unaware whether it’s day or night

i will never ever forgive myself

proving my insecurities right

it’s hard to keep track of the hours

until sunlight creeps in through the blinds

i haven’t slept, eaten or showered

i must have just lost track of time

love can we please try to mend

everything that i have broken

i’m not perfect but i’ll try until

my chest has finally burst wide open

you can remove all of its contents

just one tired heart, please keep it safe

or throw it away peeled into segments

i mean it belongs to you, anyway

have i shattered what you saw

every time you looked at me

do you no longer see the boy

who wore his heart right on his sleeve

anxious sweating, shaking next to you

too scared to talk or even eat

so unaware someday without you

i’d feel so fucking incomplete

it’s a fear my dear irrational

but it feels so real to me

i’m so sorry that i treated you

like someone waiting to leave

my throat gets so tight if i think of

you letting somebody else in

will you touch him like you touched me

and say those perfect words to him

will you love the noises that he makes

the ones i never can withhold

cause when we’re together i feel so safe

in ways i hadn’t felt before

now my eyes are black

my breathing shaky

i just want to disappear

my voice is cracked

my heart is racing

i can’t fight back all the tears

would he love the little things about you

my favorite laugh, your little mole

would he run his fingers on your neck

cup your face and kiss your nose

will he keep you warm when it gets dark

cause darling i know that you get cold

will he make you feel comfortable

alive, happy, and beautiful

will he imagine you in his sweaters

will he want all of you just like i do

will it really be so much better

to have someone else beside you

when it’s just the two of us

a bond i never could unmake

everything so sweet and effortless

it’s impossible to fake

i never want to look at another

the way i love to look at you

or pretend i want anybody else

because it never would be true

i’d rather spend my months alone

and long for times we were together

i’ll replay those memories that we made

and still write you poems and letters

they’ll end up stacked on my nightstand

thousands of words you’ll never read

fingers crossed so hard they start to break

my god it’s fucking killing me

#heartache #poem #poetsclub #spilled poetry #love poetry #sad poetry #romanticism #cathartic #spilled heart

[bbrrambo]

i never gave y'all a proper introduction to the gals ,, so officially meet lume !

lumene ( lume ) yarbury :: ➻ she's squeamish, good, and proper ! ➻ aspiration of Mt. Komorebi Sightseer ! ➻ currently works as a freelance artist ! ➻ enjoys painting, cooking, and knitting ! she and october met during their freshman year of college at the university of brichester , she was a fine arts major and spotted october from across campus whilst sketching passerbys and was literally shook — it was love at first sight ! three small facts: ➻ lume is blind in her right eye from a childhood accident . ➻ middle child with both an older and younger brother . ➻ loves scary movies even though they give her nightmares !

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims #koi plays ts4 #lume y.

[cautelous]

There’s a clean sort of symmetry to it. The game started, truly started, in Demacia. Now, with this, the game will start anew - so what better place than here?

The Sheriff isn’t in town, yet. He’s quite sure that he’d feel it if she were, feel her eyes on his back. But everything’s changed so much in a half-decade. Perhaps she is here, has been here - ahead of schedule - and he’s simply unawares of her laying low. Yes, that must be it… She’s always punctual, after all, and so the idea of her being late is unconscionable. She appreciates a good routine, and his cards provide them to an observant eye.

 He’d felt so much pride when she’d cracked his code entirely, years ago, even though it made his job harder. But the challenge is the point. He walks down the wide boulevards of the city dressed as any other Demacian would be, a smile playing across his lips. It’s a beautiful city, even though its people are tightly wound to say the least, and he lets the rhythm of footsteps and carriage-wheels on cobblestones wash over him. (He’s been here for a few days, playing local and sightseer and everything in-between.) It’s a beautiful city, and he has such big plans for it.

He has to wonder what she’s doing at this moment, hidden so far out of sight that he can’t even feel her presence. Trying to divine where he’ll strike, he imagines. She’s always been sharp when it comes to that. But he’s always been a few steps ahead, and always will be… until the day he isn’t, he supposes. That day won’t be today, though. Ideally, it never comes.

The sun will be setting soon. The show’s about to start.

                                                            —

One of the first things that someone learns about thieving is this: people are not very observant. Even when they’re supposed to be on high alert, people miss things. For example, they miss that the night shift for security at the Royal Library has one additional member. (Even if they hadn’t missed that fact, he has all the right documentation tucked away. In another life, he’d have made an excellent forger-for-hire.) People under stress are suspicious, yes, but they’re also worried about themselves - what if we don’t catch him? - and that leaves them blind. They’re looking for style, for panache, for a catburglar to cut through one of the stained-glass windows. (As if he would ever destroy something so beautiful!) They aren’t looking amongst their own ranks, they aren’t looking for the guard who’s watching how his compatriots move and memorizing their paths.

Oh, if the Sheriff were here… she’d see through his disguise in an instant, he’s certain. He’s reusing an old method that she’s quite familiar with. But she isn’t just yet, for whatever reason, and so he breaks from his patrol and ducks into the back rooms. Everyone else is keeping to their schedules, and so he keeps to his. No one should see him, unless they break from routine or he’s slow. (Neither seems particularly likely. They’re Demacian, after all, and he’s not completely out-of-practice.)

What he’s looking for is here, taken off display to be restored. He’s still rather surprised that the place has no alarms, but that’s Demacia for you. Confident in their people and moral righteousness. (And, oh, what they do to thieves! He wouldn’t want to get caught here. He wouldn’t want to get caught anywhere, if it isn’t by her.) He sweeps the beam of his handheld light across table after table as he walks through the darkened preservation rooms, looking for…

There it is. The manuscript is loosely bound in dyed leather, the pages made of vellum. He pulls his gloves on and picks it up with reverence. The founding text of a nation. The cornerstone of Demacia’s devotion to duty.

The Measured Tread.

He has no bag to slip it into, which pains him so. But he leaves a card in its place, as is his custom, and grins. Now comes the hard part. There’s a plethora of guards stationed outside. There will be some on the roof - the Sheriff knows his tricks. He shrugs off his jacket - it’s the genuine article, filched from a particularly careless security guard earlier in the day - and tucks the manuscript into the pocket he’s sewn into the inside lining. It’ll hang oddly off his shoulders, if anyone is observant enough to notice, but that hardly matters. He doesn’t expect to be making conversation.

                                                            —

It’d taken slightly longer than he expected to locate his prize, but he walks back to his patrol casually. There’s a slight dejection to his posture, just in case…

A beam of light shines directly onto his chest, and then his face. He squints into it, lips peeling back into a mild scowl - a genuine reflex. It’s bright, after all, and would annoy even the most honest guard. It certainly annoys him. Broken routine and slow. No matter, he can play it off.

“What were you doing back there?” Demacian accents are always so… blunt. Blunter still when the question is asked with suspicion.

He looks up at the other guard and blinks a few times, shielding his eyes against the light. There’s a difference in the man’s uniform. Demacians love their hierarchies. He doesn’t love his luck at the moment.

“I thought I heard something, sir,” it’s all a matter of his own voice, accent sanded away to something duller. He casts his gaze downwards, thoroughly chastised. “But no one was there. I’m sorry, sir, for having gone off my route.”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” ah, and there’s that military rigor - he lifts his head up, expression worried, “...You’re not one of my men.”

“No, sir. I’m one of the supplemental guards. I have my written orders, if you’d permit me to get them.”

The man’s face relaxes, just a hair. “Permission granted.”

He takes the papers from his jacket’s pocket, making sure to keep his back angled away, and hands them over. There’s no fear on his face. Perhaps a little unrest - being dressed down by a superior is never pleasant, after all, and one doesn’t get used to it even after their years of conscription are over - but nothing more. He waits as the other man looks over the letter, with its official seals and signatures. (He’s quite proud of that. It’s excellent work.)

The other guard sighs and hands back the letter. “You can never be too careful. Especially in these times.”

“Indeed, sir,” he nods solemnly, waiting to be dismissed.

“Now: get back to your patrol. We’ve got a thief to catch.”

He gives one final “yes, sir” and turns his back on the guard in order to leave. His heart pounds in his chest. But there’s no shout of alarm, or even a noise of confusion. So he returns to his patrol, walking the beat for a half-hour longer, and eventually ducks out of the main entrance when its guards peel away to investigate a noise. (He’d have waited until shift change, if necessary. This is just convenient - and who expects a thief to use the front door?)

The manuscript feels like a caress against him.

                                                            —

He leaves the city via carriage. The theft hasn’t been publicized yet. (He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the Sheriff, which is unlike her… but this is a return to form after years of silence. It’s reasonable for her to lag a step or two further behind than usual. Isn’t it?) His luggage is searched, but not well enough, and his person is left mercifully alone. There’s a few others, of course, even at this early hour, and he spends some time guessing at their pasts and presents. But his thoughts turn to The Measured Tread eventually, and he pulls it from his bag.

Oh, not the original! Gods no, does he look like an idiot? But every good Demacian (and they are all good Demacians, paragons of moral virtue, et cetera) has their own copy. Half of them have vast swathes of it memorized. He supposes that his current persona is in the other half. He flips to one of the dog-eared pages.

“A true Demacian’s heart is with his or her country. This land has birthed us. Our fields sustain our bodies and our wilderness sustains our minds. Our nation is sustained by the unbreakable bonds of brother- and sisterhood and by the fearlessness and wisdom of our rulers. To die for our cause, our nation is a high honor; to live for it is higher still.

Your countrymen are an honest lot, just as you are. They have spent their days under the same bright sun as you, their nights at the same hearths. To show devotion and love to them is to show your fealty to Demacia.”

They’re nearly at fifteen years. Five of them had been spent, regrettably, on hiatus - for her sake, for the city’s sake - but he is back now. It had been his mistake to ever leave. He’d nearly forgotten how high his heart can soar. He’d nearly forgotten how electric it feels in his mind as a plan unfolds and completes. Gods, he’d been contenting himself with nothing. (All for her, of course, all for her.)

The Sheriff’s accepted his invitation - or should he call it a proposal? - he knows she has, regardless of whether or not he’s seen her.

He wants to see her, again, once more, a thousand times more. He wants to meet her. He can hardly remember a time where he didn’t want those things. (It’s been over a third of his life, and they can both appreciate threes - all good things come in them. Lenses and letters of the alphabet and the rule of thirds and everything, everything, everything.) He has, already, many times - seeing, at the least, not meeting. Always in the guise of others.

They hadn’t spoken until he’d worn one of his oldest masks. (He’d picked his last name from a theatre marquee, back when he’d first needed one.) He, for once, wasn’t the instigator. It was by virtue of his very first name, best-forgotten thing that it was, that she’d found him. Closing old missing persons cases, she’d told him, and she’d promised to mark his as resolved.

I don’t intend to leave too much undone.

Why admit that to a stranger? (He wonders if something compelled her, just as he has been for all these years.) She doesn’t know who he is. They went out dancing on the weekends, once, twice, thrice, a few more times. He held her hands in his. He led, she followed. He’d kept his expression as that of a lovesick-lonely man (the best performances…!) and never overstepped. He’d been a fool to think it’d be enough. To think that she’d settle for a normal man, after another had stolen her heart. She needs him, all of him. Look at where she’s ended up without him.

He can’t meet her as himself, though. Perhaps once, if she’d never tracked down the unchosen name of an unwanted man, they could have truly met. But she knows his face now, and… Well. He knows how it would end. He’d gotten too close for their rules. (He supposes he has to add ‘rulebreaker’ to his list of epithets.)

The carriage hits a rough patch in the dirt road and he’s jolted out of his thoughts. There’s really no point in speculating on what could have been. It’s his fault, after all, for assuming he knew best and leaving her. He looks to The Measured Tread, rereads the line that means the most, and shuts the book.

He considers his plans. Mountaineering season starts in a month or two. He’s been preparing.

He considers his future. Their future.

He thinks he’ll buy himself a ring.

#Writing ∵ ( woven with words. ) #Event ∵ ( return to form. ) #Caitlyn ∵ ( see me. )

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 19

As prompts have been pretty slim recently, I held a survey to determine what I would write for this scene. Is was a bit of an interesting outcome, and I hope everyone enjoys the results. So please, enjoy...

     ~I could really use Sonic’s help. He’d rescue me in no time.

     ~I could really use Mighty’s help. I’m sure he’s more than strong enough.

     ~Hm? What’s that? What am I talking about? Hehehe… well you see…~

     “KYA~!”

     Rosy screamed as a stone fist the size of a ten-story building crashed into the stone brick bridge she attempted to run across. The impact brought up massive waves of icy cold water and she was thrown high into the air where she was nearly lost within the flurry of snowflakes. “Stop picking on me!”

     Afforded a fine view of the possessor of the giant fist, Rosy yelled at it and made herself an ample target where she was defenseless in the air. “Eep?”

     What possessed the stone fist of such great size was a golem not unlike the ones Rosy had seen before. It was however the most massive one she had seen to date. Its ten story tall fists were but the end point of its arms that formed an arch like structure that served as most of the construct’s body. Like most golems possessed of a green gem to power it, this one lacked a head of any kind. The gem that powered it however was also massive. Unlike the ones that powered its lesser cousins and could be held between thumb and forefinger, this one was nearly the size of a three-story house itself. Rosy could sparse imagine how many Rings were used in the construct’s construction, no less the amount of vegetation that seemed to give the golems life.

     Even with her speed though she did not have the time to ponder about it as the construct turned to strike her from the air. So massive an object striking her would be disastrous, even though the Rings she carried would absorb any direct physical harm she would endure. And they did, scattering as she was launched through the air like a cannon ball.

     She barely had time to curl into a ball before colliding with a massive structure of stone bricks which she rebounded off and down into a barren courtyard. Recovering her Rings seemed impossible and she was soon traveling as fast as she could on the slick ice. This meant well below her speed of sound maximum, but staying still would be lethal regardless.

     ~So, what happened here? I really don’t know. I’ve been unlucky in finding clues to track down my friends, so I’ve still been following rumors. I need to stop that as it seems to be nothing but trouble for me. But how was I supposed to know that the giant statue out here was a golem. No one said so!

     ~Ah~ What am I saying. I thought it might be. I really did. It was kind of just blind hope that maybe Sonic had heard about it too and thought it was a giant golem. Really, I should have just stuck to believing that it was a curiosity that Mighty would want to see.

     ~It’d be nice if I could at least run away though. It’s freezing and It’s getting harder to find any rings.

     ~Why can’t I run away? Because the golem broke all the ice leading out to this crumbling old ruin!~

     Swimming was not an option for Rosy either. As she neared the edge of the island in the once frozen lake, the water raged up in powerful destructive waves that would have been impossible for her to withstand. The cause of the waves was none other than the unseen force that kept the legless, arch shaped golem in the air as it raced around the island to meet her.

     “Not again!”

     Slipping and sliding to a stop, Rosy attempted to regain her traction to flee the other way. The golem would not afford her the time and again struck the island with tremendous force. With a bit of better luck Rosy managed to jump up before impact and was launched by a chunk of rubble that rose up to meet her.

     “Oof!”

     The debris may have stolen her breath away, but it also provided her a foot hold she could use to escape the golem’s next attack. The golem itself seemed to recognize the situation and instead of swinging its fist again instead gathered light into its core.

     “Oh no!”

     The beams of green light fired from the gems that powered the golems were no laughing matter even from the ones more around Rosy’s size. But one fired from a gem the size of a three-story building would be catastrophic.

     Rosy had no intention of seeing how she would fair against the golem’s next attack and rolled the rock over so she was pointing back toward the ground. A gapping maw the size of the golem’s fist awaited her below and she had no idea what awaited beyond it. Still, she could not risk the golem’s beam weapon and kicked off the rock towards the hole. Curling her body into a tight defensive ball she hoped her typical springiness would allow her to rebound safely from what awaited her below.

     Above Rosy, the golem’s gem finished charging and a bolt of green energy tore through the cloudy sky. It devastated more of the ancient stone brick structure and released a rain of Rings in the wake of the destruction that further stripped the ruin of any identity of its former function. Rosy herself presumed the ruin might have been a town at some point, but if so then she had found her way into its aqueduct tunnels.

     The opening created by the massive golem led Rosy straight into an underground channel of icy water. The temperature of the water near stole her breath away, no less her consciousness and she struggled to swim to the surface.

     “Ugh!” Rosy groaned and gasped for air, pushing her limbs to propel her through the ice water filled veins of the ruin. Between breaths she managed to complain in an off handed way as she hoped the golem lost track of her. “At least I actually can swim in here!”

     ~Really, I had no idea where I was going, and the cold was sapping me of my strength. I really don’t know how Sonic and Tails do it. They just seem to run through icy cold water like they don’t feel it. Is it another use for the Rings I don’t know about? I know they can be used to absorb toxins from the body. Sonic taught me that, but can they also be used to ward off extreme temperatures? Ooh~! I really wish I could find Sonic and ask him.

     ~First, I have to get away from this golem. Ooh~! What an awful turn of luck! I can barely stay conscious. But I’ll freeze if I don’t. I can’t black out now.

     ~And yet I did.

     ~So how am I still telling my story? Well, someone must have rescued me. Or at least that’s what I presumed waking up beside a fire in the depths of the ruin.~

     “Hello?” Rosy cried out as she sat up, the heavy blanket around her fighting against her weakened form. “Is anyone there?”

     She did not want to succumb back to the darkness of an uneasy sleep, but Rosy fell back down anyway as the warmth of the fire was too comforting and the blanket too heavy. She refused to let her eyelids grow heavy though, and with a burst of internal energy forced them to stay open.

     With open eyes Rosy needed something to look at and set about scanning the chamber she occupied. What she found was old beat up cookware and hunting and fishing supplies. “Does someone live here?”

     “For someone half frozen you sure have a lot of questions,” a surprisingly youthful voice criticized Rosy from somewhere behind her. “Though I have a few of my own. You didn’t honestly think that you could stay warm dressed in that little did you? Or maybe you got stuck here like I did because of those blasted Rings!”

     Forcing herself to roll over under the blanket a look of astonishment soon adorned Rosy’s face. “You’re not just young sounding! You’re a kid!”

     “Who are you calling a kid!” a sapient koala in a heavy fur coat and holding an archery bow yelled at Rosy, denying that he obviously was. Rosy herself was technically still a child as well, but the youth was easily younger than her and she felt a need to see him safely from the island and the golem that ravaged it. But first proper introductions were due.

     “Tee-hee! I think we need to start from the beginning,” Rosy again tried to force herself to sit up. It was a vain effort and she puffed up her cheeks in frustration. But only for a moment. She wanted to start with as a good of an impression as she could. “I’m Amy Rose, but I prefer to be called Rosy. I’m from a really faraway place and kind of lost right now, but everyone here seems to see me as a sightseer.”

     “Well you picked a terrible spot for sightseeing,” the young koala sighed, his shoulders slumping as he was faced with the possibility of having to protect Rosy.

     “Well, I’m also looking for my friends,” Rosy tried to defend her actions. “We got separated after we were attacked by some mean old sky pirates and the golem here sounded like something two of them might come check out. Ooh~! I really wish one of them had too. They’d beat that mean old golem in no time!”

     “What! Are your friends golem hunters too! Why would golem hunter’s hang out with a sightseer?”

     “No, no, no,” Rosy tried to correct the young koala, waving her hands under the heavy blanket in emphasis. “All of us are from really faraway lands. I mean really faraway. All your customs here are so weird to me. I feel kind of exotic traveling around.”

     “You just seem kind of stupid to me.”

     “Hey!” Rosy finally found the strength to sit up, fueled by the uncalled-for insult. “You just can’t go around calling people names. Besides, I gave you mine. It’s Rosy! And you still need to tell me yours too!”

     “It’s Patch. But everyone calls me Draw because my archery teacher always yelled it at me during practice.”

     “So nice to meet you Draw!” Rosy chirped cheerfully as she suddenly dashed out of from under the blanket and took Draw’s hands in her own.

     “Gah!” Draw recoiled in surprise at Rosy’s speed. “How did you–!”

     “Oh, you mean my speed. Tee-hee! It’s kind of a long story, but I can run so fast that I can get to you as fast as my words reach your ears. At least when I’m having a good day.”

     “How is that even possible?” Draw asked trying to pull away from Rosy. It was a vain effort, as Rosy was far stronger than she looked and had already decided that Draw was her new friend. Of course, that meant she gladly explained as well.

Scene 19 · CLEARED Hope on Ice, to be continued

-----

And I’ve yet introduced another character. Comically, unlike Gill I actually have know just how long he’ll be hanging around for. If he comes back after that point will be up to my readers. Though for now him and Rosy just need to deal with a rather troublesome golem. I hope everyone will join them next time as well!

Thank you for reading!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Jungle Joyride - Night – By SEGA & Kenichi Tokoi – Sonic - Unleashed Original Soundtrack: Planetary Pieces

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #sonic oc #draw the koala #patch

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

The Divine Transcendence

by Aiden Wilson Tozer

"There is none like you, O Yahweh; you are great, and your name is great in might." - Jeremiah 10:6

When we speak of God as transcendent, we mean of course that He is exalted far above the created universe, so far above that human thought cannot imagine it. To think accurately about this, however, we must keep in mind that "far above" does not here refer to physical distance from the earth but to quality of being. We are concerned not with location in space nor with mere altitude but with life.

God is spirit, and to Him magnitude and distance have no meaning. To us they are useful as analogies and illustrations, so God refers to them constantly when speaking down to our limited understanding. The words, "Thus says the high and lofty One that inhabits eternity," give a distinct impression of altitude, but that is because we who dwell in a world of matter, space, and time tend to think in material terms and can grasp abstract ideas only when they are identified in some way with material things.

A little child strays from a party of sightseers and becomes lost on a mountain, and immediately the whole mental perspective of the members of the party is changed. Rapt admiration for the grandeur of nature gives way to acute distress for the lost child. The group spreads out over the mountainside anxiously calling the child's name and searching eagerly into every secluded spot where the little one might chance to be hidden. What has brought about this sudden change? The tree-clad mountain is still there towering into the clouds in breath-taking beauty, but no one notices it now. All attention is focused upon the search for a curly-haired little girl not yet two years old and weighing less than thirty pounds, for she is more precious than all the huge bulk of the vast and ancient mountain. It is the child's quality of being that gives her worth.

Yet we must not compare the being of God with any other as we just now compared the mountain with the child. We must not think of God as highest in an ascending order of beings, starting with the single cell and going on up from the fish to the bird to the animal to man to angel to cherub to God. This would be to grant God eminence, even pre-eminence, but that is not enough. We must grant Him transcendence in the fullest meaning of that word.

Forever God stands apart, in light unapproachable. He is as high above an archangel as above a caterpillar, for the gulf that separates the archangel from the caterpillar is but finite, while the gulf between God and the archangel is infinite. The caterpillar and the archangel, though far removed from each other in the scale of created things, are nevertheless one in that they are alike created. They both belong in the category of that-which-is-not-God, and are separated from God by infinitude itself.

In olden days men of faith were said to "walk in the fear of God" and to "serve the Lord with fear." Whenever God appeared to men in Bible times the results were the same--an overwhelming sense of terror and dismay, a wrenching sensation of sinfulness and guilt. When God spoke, Abram stretched himself upon the ground to listen. When Moses saw the Lord in the burning bush, he hid his face in fear to look upon God. Isaiah's vision of God wrung from him the cry, "Woe is me!" and the confession, "I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips." Daniel's encounter with God was probably the most dreadful and wonderful of them all. The prophet lifted up his eyes and saw One whose "body also was like the beryl, and his face as the appearance of lightning, and his eyes as lamps of fire, and his arms and his feet like in color to polished brass, and the voice of his words like the voice of a multitude." "I Daniel alone saw the vision," he afterwards wrote,"for the men that were with me saw not the vision; but a great quaking fell upon them, so that they fled to hide themselves. Therefore I was left alone, and saw this great vision, and there remained no strength in me: for my comeliness was turned in me into corruption, and I retained no strength. Yet heard I the voice of his words: and when I heard the voice of his words, then was I in a deep sleep on my face, and my face toward the ground."

These experiences show that a vision of the divine transcendence soon ends all controversy between man and his God. The fight goes out of the man and he is ready with the conquered Saul to ask meekly, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"

Conversely, the self-assurance of modern Christians, the basic levity present in so many of our religious gatherings, the shocking disrespect shown for the Person of God, are evidence enough of deep blindness of heart. Many call themselves by the name of Christ, talk much about God, and sometimes pray to Him, but evidently do not know who He is. "The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life," but this healing fear is today hardly found among Christian men.

Once in conversation with his friend Eckermann, the poet Goethe turned to thoughts of religion and spoke of the abuse of the divine name. "People treat it," he said, "as if that incomprehensible and most high Being, who is even beyond the reach of thought, were only their equal. Otherwise they would not say 'the Lord God, the dear God, the good God.' This expression becomes to them, especially to the clergy who have it daily in their mouths, a mere phrase, a barren name to which no thought whatever is attached. If they were impressed by His greatness they would be dumb, and through veneration unwilling to name Him."

#Aiden Wilson Tozer #The Divine Transcendence #Jeremiah 10:6