#OW Pumice

[jellyfish-grave]

One can wish they could publish 60 pictures at once, alas

#this is gonna take a while isnt it #camma the drawer #outer wilds #outer wilds oc #OW pumice #solanum #gabbro #hatchling #feldspar #chert #PUMICE PLAYS THE VIOLIN!!!!! #Yes i have their whole part of the travelers song written down #i just need to find someone to. interpret it with an actual violin lol #cam ocs #timebuddies #NOOO CAMMS DONT SHIP THE VERY OBVIOUSLY LINKED BY FATE CHARACYERS #bleh #i have decieved you all #apologies

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Scholars of antiquity believe they are on the brink of a new era of understanding after researchers armed with artificial intelligence read the hidden text of a charred scroll that was buried when Mount Vesuvius erupted nearly 2,000 years ago.

Hundreds of papyrus scrolls held in the library of a luxury Roman villa in Herculaneum were burned to a crisp when the town was devastated by the intense blast of heat, ash and pumice that destroyed nearby Pompeii in AD79.

Excavations in the 18th century recovered more than 1,000 whole or partial scrolls from the mansion, thought to be owned by Julius Caesar’s father-in-law.

However, the black ink was unreadable on the carbonised papyri and the scrolls crumbled to pieces when researchers tried to open them.

The breakthrough in reading the ancient material came from the $1m Vesuvius Challenge, a contest launched in 2023 by Brent Seales, a computer scientist at the University of Kentucky, and Silicon Valley backers.

The competition offered prizes for extracting text from high-resolution CT scans of a scroll taken at Diamond, the UK’s national synchrotron facility in Oxfordshire.

On Monday, Nat Friedman, a US tech executive and founding sponsor of the challenge, announced that a team of three computer-savvy students, Youssef Nader in Germany, Luke Farritor in the US, and Julian Schilliger in Switzerland, had won the $700,000 (£554,000) grand prize after reading more than 2,000 Greek letters from the scroll.

Papyrologists who have studied the text recovered from the blackened scroll were stunned at the feat.

“This is a complete gamechanger,” said Robert Fowler, emeritus professor of Greek at Bristol University and chair of the Herculaneum Society.

“There are hundreds of these scrolls waiting to be read.”

Dr Federica Nicolardi, a papyrologist at the University of Naples Federico II, added:

“This is the start of a revolution in Herculaneum papyrology and in Greek philosophy in general. It is the only library to come to us from ancient Roman times.”

“We are moving into a new era,” said Seales, who led efforts to read the scrolls by virtually unwrapping the CT images and training AI algorithms to detect the presence of ink.

He now wants to build a portable CT scanner to image scrolls without moving them from their collections.

In October, Farritor won the challenge’s $40,000 “first letters” prize when he identified the ancient Greek word for “purple” in the scroll.

He teamed up with Nader in November, with Schilliger, who developed an algorithm to automatically unwrap CT images, joining them days before the contest deadline on 31 December.

Together, they read more than 2,000 letters of the scroll, giving scholars their first real insight into its contents.

“It’s been an incredibly rewarding journey,” said Youssef.

“The adrenaline rush is what kept us going. It was insane. It meant working 20-something hours a day. I didn’t know when one day ended and the next day started.”

“It probably is Philodemus,” Fowler said of the author.

“The style is very gnarly, typical of him, and the subject is up his alley.”

The scroll discusses sources of pleasure, touching on music and food – capers in particular – and whether the pleasure experienced from a combination of elements owes to the major or minor constituents, the abundant or the scare.

“In the case of food, we do not right away believe things that are scarce to be absolutely more pleasant than those which are abundant,” the author writes.

“I think he’s asking the question: what is the source of pleasure in a mix of things? Is it the dominant element, is it the scarce element, or is it the mix itself?” said Fowler.

The author ends with a parting shot against his philosophical adversaries for having “nothing to say about pleasure, either in general or particular."

Seales and his research team spent years developing algorithms to digitally unwrap the scrolls and detect the presence of ink from the changes it produced in the papyrus fibres.

He released the algorithms for contestants to build on in the challenge.

Friedman’s involvement proved valuable not only for attracting financial donors.

When Seales was meant to fly to the UK to have a scroll scanned, a storm blew in cancelling all commercial flights.

Worried they might lose their slot at the Diamond light source, Friedman hastily organised a private jet for the trip.

Beyond the hundreds of Herculaneum scrolls waiting to be read, many more may be buried at the villa, adding weight to arguments for fresh excavations.

"The same technology could be applied to papyrus wrapped around Egyptian mummies," Fowler said.

These could include everything from letters and property deeds to laundry lists and tax receipts, shining light on the lives of ordinary ancient Egyptians.

“There are crates of this stuff in the back rooms of museums,” Fowler said.

The challenge continues this year with the goal to read 85% of the scroll and lay the foundations for reading all of those already excavated.

Scientists need to fully automate the process of tracing the surface of the papyrus inside each scroll and improve ink detection on the most damaged parts.

“When we launched this less than a year ago, I honestly wasn’t sure it’d work,” said Friedman.

“You know, people say money can’t buy happiness, but they have no imagination. This has been pure joy. It’s magical what happened, it couldn’t have been scripted better."

Source: The Guardian

How the Herculaneum Papyri were carbonised in the Mount Vesuvius eruption – Video

5 February 2024

#Herculaneum Papyri #Mount Vesuvius #volcanic eruption #antiquity #artificial intelligence #papyrus scrolls #Pompeii #AD79 #Herculaneum #Youtube #carbonised papyri #$1m Vesuvius Challenge #Brent Seales #Diamond #papyrologist #Herculaneum papyrology #Ancient Rome #CT images #ai algorithms

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - Necromancing the Stone - It's About To Be A... Witch Fight

Follows right after the last tidbit...

Caroline pushed herself up and turned to head back to her workroom, when a shrill tone cut across her mind. The parameter wards. Quickly changing directions, she jerked open the hall closet and pulled out an open sweater with deep pockets. Shoving her arms in the sleeves, she made her way to the front door, glad she had put on boots this morning. Having to deal with whatever bullshit was about to greet her in slippers would have been undignified.

A quick peek through the peephole showed her four people arranged in front of her porch, their magic tasting of witch lightning and incense. She took one calming breath, and then pulled open the front door and walked out onto the porch, a pleasant smile on her face.

“Siblings, to what do I owe the honor?” Caroline asked, sliding her hands into the pockets of her sweater. Gods, it was bright out here. She squinted.

A tall woman stepped forward in jeans and a light jacket, her braids wound in a bun on her head. “Caroline Nikols?” At Caroline’s nod, she continued. “The hybrid came here, we believe, for assistance with the Piatra Inchisorii.” There was a soft bayou twang in her voice, and Caroline felt a sinking feeling that Klaus’ problems had followed him to her doorstep.

With a shrug, Caroline looked down at her. “Never heard of it.” 

“We know he was here,” a man in the back said, his freckles standing out starkly on the grey undertones in his pale face. At least someone was worried about their choices here today.

“Good for you,” she offered. “Now, if that’s all, I’d like you off my property. I have a business to run.”

“A business making dangerous magical items and raising the dead,” The first woman stated, clenching her fist. Don’t do it, Caroline willed at her, don’t start what you can’t finish.

Caroline shrugged again. “I like challenges. Keeps me young.” Her smile was more bared teeth than anything now, a gleeful little reminder that age brought knowledge and power.

A girl who looked like a teenager, big eyes in a thin face, practically snarled at her. “Did Klaus offer you a challenge, the powers of your fellow witches a payment too great to pass up in exchange for doing his dirty work?”

Her eyebrows raised coolly at her, flicking a glance of askance at the leader. “Are the witches of New Orleans using children to do their dirty work these days?” The woman’s face tightened.

“Turn over the stone to us, and we let you live,” the leader said, like she was being magnanimous.

“My ancestors are not bound in the swamp; you are a long way from home,” Caroline pointed out, wrapping her hand around a woven ball of wire the size of a cat toy in one pocket, and a chunk of pumice in the other.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Klaus isn’t here, and you are one witch. I think we’ll take our chances.”

Caroline tilted her head. “It’s your funeral. Do tell your ancestors the Forbes clan sent you.”

The silent up til now woman to the left of the man raised her hand, energy gathering in her palm. “That blasphemous line died out hundreds of years ago,” she scoffed.

“Did we now?” Her smile was sharp as she fed energy into the chunk of crystal at the heart of the wire ball.

-----------------

*to the tune of Girl Fight* It's about to be a... witch fight.

#Sorry #short thing today #i'm late for work #necromancing the stone #klaroline wip wed #klaroline for ts #tvd for ts

[dreaminghour]

Hayden/Ewan RPF - Prompt: List

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Star Wars RPF Rating: General audiences Prompt: 03 List Ship: Hayden/Ewan Context: References to real people are used fictiously. Words: 865

Hayden rounded the curve of the drive to find the garage door was already open, music playing from a beat up little radio, Ewan standing with hands on his hips and squinting at him.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise," he said, crossing toward him before he had even gotten out of the car, slapping him on the back as he hugged him. "Figured out the address after all, huh?"

"Well, I mean." Hayden shrugged but couldn't keep himself from grinning. "Turn about is fair play, right?"

"Is it?" Ewan said, a kind of faux lightness to his tone. "Can I get you something to drink? A coke or a water?"

"Nah, not right now. What're you working on?"

"Nothing at the moment," Ewan said, "just finished changing the oil and was cleaning up."

"Don't let me keep you."

So Hayden leaned against a bit of workbench that wasn't currently strewn with tools and things, sipping the cold pop he'd been handed while Ewan ran commentary on the machine he'd been servicing. Hayden hoped he sounded appropriately appreciative.

"So, to what do I owe the honor?" Ewan asked, finally washing his hands at the sink with pumice soap, scrubbing at the lines of grease under his nails. "I don't suppose you're finally doing a bit of housewarming as well?"

"Haven't you been here years now?"

"Yeah, but its the first time you're here, isn't it?"

"A gift for the unsuspecting host." Hayden just rolled his eyes. "No I, er, don't have a gift, but I have this."

He pulled out the notebook he'd stuffed in his back pocket and flipped open to the bookmarked page for Ewan to read once he'd finished wiping his hands. He opened his mouth as he began reading, but then paused, glancing up at Hayden.

"What is this?"

"You tell me," Hayden said with a shrug, keeping his expression mild.

"'Excuses Ewan Has Used to Drop By,'" Ewan began reading. "'Number one, housewarming gift.' You know as well as I do that barbeque tongs go missing, its always good to have tools. Even if you'd already had some, I assumed it would be… Yeah yeah."

At Hayden's look, leaning back once more, crossing his arms, Ewan resumed reading.

"'Number two, had to regift a bottle of whiskey.' You know I don't drink!" He sounded outraged but he was grinning. "And that was a 40 year old single malt scotch, not just any bottle of whiskey! I knew that you'd appreciate it, or if not, I could rest easy that someone I liked was drinking it in their coke."

Hayden covered his smile with a hand but just gestured with his eyebrows as Ewan went on.

"'Number three, wanted to show me his new bike.' Alright." Ewan snapped the notebook shut and shoved it against Hayden's chest. "I'm not reading anymore. If a man can't drive his bike into the hills and visit a friend as he passes by, then…"

"But were you?" Hayden asked, laying the book aside, amused that Ewan was apparently getting a little heated, even if it was all in good fun.

"Was I what?"

"Just passing by? Because you told me you got a new bike, a Moto Guzzi or something."

All the visits over the last two months still remained pretty clear in Hayden's mind, so clear that he'd written them down in an attempt to figure out why Ewan would drop by, chat for a few minutes and then leave again.

It hadn't been a remarkable day in any other way. It had been hazy and gray. Surprisingly cool. Hayden had gotten in only a couple hours before and was looking forward to curling up in front of the fire with a book when he'd heard the motorcycle coming up the hill. He'd met Ewan in his leathers at the door, in his socks on the pavement while Ewan had guzzled cool water, long hair falling into his face, helmet tucked under one arm.

"What're you doing here?" Hayden had asked at some point.

"Just out for a test drive," he'd said, turning to grin at the spotless machine, as though it were able to enjoy the compliments he was about to bestow upon it. "Thought I'd show her off."

"She is something," Hayden had said, because it really was a nice bike.

"Not new," Ewan said now, turning to look at the bike in question. "Just wanted to make sure everything was working correctly."

"So you drove for an hour. To see me."

"Is that so bad?" Ewan asked, cracking open his own drink.

"It isn't, if that's what you called it. I just don't understand why you can't just say you want to see me. Instead of coming up with a dozen different excuses to drive over. We could have met somewhere, or I could have come over. I just don't know what you wanted to achieve. If you wanted to see me."

"You're here now, aren't you?" Ewan asked, raising his eyebrows. "So it worked, didn't it?"

Hayden scoffed.

"Yeah, alright. You don't have to be smug about it."

"Never crossed my mind," Ewan said, still wearing that shit eating grin.

#real person fiction #domaystic2023 #2023day3 #sfw #dreamy does fic #dreamy does domaystic #star wars rpf #actor rpf #hayden x ewan #ewan x hayden #haywan

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Chrysanta (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Chrysta by the others

The Silver Goddess by the people of Olympius

Mother by her son

Age- 46 (immortal)

Location- Forgia district, New Olympus

Personality- Very much like her symbolic element/domain she's unyielding, cool, adaptable, & wholly collected. She's also intelligent, objective, and resilient in her self-worth. She's married.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess. As the goddess of metal her other powers/abilities include metallokinesis (metal manipulation), metal mimicry (being able to change a part/entire physical state into metal), bio-metal manipulation/generation & mimicry, intrametal transmutation, ermískinesis (mercury manipulation), partial fire and heat immunity, limited matter manipulation (by affecting the metallic particles in non-metallic objects), & is being able to manipulate silver, steel, Stygian Iron, Astrean Silver, lead, tin, titanium, and platinum.

Chrysta lives with her husband & son at their brownstone in the Forgia neighborhood of New Olympus. The interior design is very sleek, stylish, and modern with colors of black & cool tones of white, blue, silver, and gray. The kitchen has a fully automated computerized island along with cabinets built out of Astrean Silver & the latest state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances. The family has a male automaton assistant named Argyris. The family also owns a vacation home in the state of Lemnos (where her husband is originally from).

Chrysta has an animal companion- a she-dragon named Elys that's known as "The Silver Queen" due to her breathtaking shimmering silver scales! Elys is usually her mode of transportation when traveling great distances.

A go-to drink for her is a classic martini. She also likes cola, ginger ale, Strengthify's ionized alkaline water, champagne, vodka margaritas, assam tea, haldi doodth (hot tumeric milk), coconut water, iced tea, and masala chai. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean is the large cinnamon chai latte & the medium mango orange splash.

Chrysta's morning routine includes a jog through Eaglepoint Park, a workout at the gym, followed by a session of acupuncture at home.

A notable thing about her is her flawless copper brown skin. She owes it all to her all-body exfoliator pumice stone that's made from volcanic rock. The Platinum Luminescence tightening serum also helps!

Chrysta has been married to her husband Aurelius (who's a Cyclops) for close to twenty years. Despite the whispers & nay-sayers amongst the public and in the pantheon, she was never discouraged from being in a relationship with a non-deity being or from marrying him. She fell in love with him, his kind brown eye that remind her of a smouldering fireplace, his warm protective embrace, and his lovingly boisterous family! With life & their jobs, Chrysta and her husband always make time for each other. Their most recent date night was at Aitnaios beach.

She loves the samosa grilled cheese (on panini bread) from The Bread Box along with the broccoli salad (drizzled in olive oil dressing).

A guilty pleasure for her are the sweet potato fries from Olympic Chef.

Chrysta has a close relationship with her son Cedalion (Lio) (demi-god of smithing ore). They both contributed ideas that went towards the final design for Argyris. Some activities they like doing together are indoor rock climbing, doing pottery at Sparkling Ember, or going to some blacksmithing workshops at the community center.

One of her favorite desserts are the earl grey macarons with lavender-honey buttercream from Hollyhock's Bakery. She also likes her husband's "magma" cake which is essentially a molten chocolate cake added with carmalized walnuts & pecans.

She loves stopping by Cocoa Delights from time to time to buy a box of dark chocolate taffy.

In the pantheon Chrysta's friends with Makris (one of The Nesoi), Pleione (Titaness of sailing & stars), Paean (goddess of physicians); they often double date, Soteria (goddess of safety), Coeus (Titan god of foresight, intellect, & knowledge), Theia (Titaness of sight & heavenly light), Mnemosyne (Titaness of memory & language), Themis (Titaness of justice), Maia (one of The Pleiades), Logos (god of stories), Astrape (goddess of lightning), Bronte (goddess of thunder), Praxidike (goddess of judicial punishment), as well as the esteemed blacksmithing cyclopes- Arges, Brontes, and Steropes. Chrysta was the official mentor to Techne (goddess of arts, crafts, & invention). She's also been impressed with the work done by Hephaestus (god of the forge) and Aetna (goddess of volcanoes). Chrysta doesn't like the goddess Dione. She never forgot the comment she overheard Dione say at her baby shower- whether her baby would be born with one eye or three.

For a main source of income she teaches metallurgial engineering at New Olympus University. For other means of income Chrysta models for/endorses Euryphaessa, Stella Ferrea (The Hyades' jewelry brand), Ouránio Théama, & Platinum Luminescence (Clymene's skincare brand). She sometimes writes for O Dianooumenos.

Chrysta was pleasantly dumbfounded when Clymene's designer luggage & handbag brand Megaleio came out with two limited edition handbags inspired by her! One of them is the "metallic chains" bag set in white gold with over 11,000 diamonds, coming with a 2.2 million drachma price tag. The other is a shoulder bag made with an all-platinum body adroned with over 2,000 diamonds. The functional strap can be removed & worn as a necklace while the 8 karat pear shaped diamond situated at the center of the bag can be worn as a brooch. It's priced at 1.9 million drachmas. Chrysta made a deal with the brand that all the proceeds from the purchases would go towards various charities and programs that supports Cyclopes.

She loves wearing the Olmorfia nail polish in "Moonshadow," a metallic silver color. She also likes the shade "Warm Amber," a dark shimmery copper color.

Chrysta decided to treat herself with a bit of a splurge, buying the silver flower shaped jeweled clutch from Diamond Ave.

In her free time she enjoys sculpting (loves doing metal sculptures), fencing, chess, doing brain teasers, lava surfing, basketball, working out, football (soccer), baseball, cooking, and spending time with her family.

Her all time favorite meal is malai kofta served with naan & white rice.

"Just because there's tarnish on the copper, that doesn't mean there's not a shine beneath."

#my oc #original character #my original oc #my character #oc character #my oc character #oc intro #character intro #oc introduction #character introduction #modern greek mythology #modern greek gods #greek myth retellings #greek goddess #greek goddesses

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

BFDG 03

[Ao3] [ffnet] Full chapter in the links

"...no don't you dare-"

Kazz-itz!

There was a startled yelp that came out of the little human mostly inside the base workings of the main laser cutter. A sound that was edged in pain but not agonizing, it sounded half like an offended bird, half whine.

Margery's head popped up and she rushed across the room to where she had left the younger, shorter woman. Missing the distinct twitch of the normally still form in the room. "Cassidy? What happened?"

The only other person in the room whimpered as she was helped up, with the set up cardboard box between her and the giant it helped her from being scared, as she peeked. Her view is still mostly blocked by the sarcophagus. It was a simple little 'shield' that Winston had come up with to help Cassidy work without locking up every time she saw the giant, not quite man.

Cassidy did not know why she froze and fawned so easily every time she saw him. Him…? What was the name VEGA had the name come up with in the translation?

Slayer?

The young woman shivered, what a title to be given from… hell. She huddling against the older woman that pulled her out of the electronic guts of the cutter. Cradling her left arm that was trembling still. "...ow."

"Are you okay chica?" Margery fussed, unable to help it, she knew this young woman really well now. Cassidy was one of those more than happy to come and learn about cooking and even cleaned up after herself more than other technicians. Yet over all she was a good person, but also one that had been headhunted right out of her school, and all but stolen from her original job by Dr. Hayden.

"My arm is numb," Cassidy sighed, trying to rub feeling back into it, wincing and then started to pry her oversuit off. Margery had this area thoroughly cleaned up before she showed up to work. It should be safe, and the older woman was helping to take off the outer layer to see what the damage was.

A deep, but sharp cracking coming from pumice stone inside the sarcophagus had a second startled yelp coming from Cassidy. Accidentally knocking out her tentative shield of safety while trying to reflexively hide behind the bigger woman or back in the lazer. As soon as it fell and she had a clear view, the young woman whimpered and locked up, staring with wide eyes, almost expecting the giant to sit up-

Margery tensed and after a moment to confirm there was no movement, just a sigh seemingly unconscious sigh like sound. She was shifting and using herself to block the poor girl's view, "It's okay chica, it's okay it's just the pumice breaking again. It's okay birdie, you're okay."

"...sorry," Cassidy's voice was soft and muffled as she kept her head firmly pressed against Margery's front.

It took everything Margery had to not laugh at the small sad tone, filled with guilt but she was being so firmly latched onto with all the force of a starved barnacle. She looked up as the main door opened and Winston stepped in, hand on the rifle on his thigh. "Charles, could you get the barrier up again, and the medical kit?"

The commander looked at the still sleeping form, walking closer and saw the big cardboard piece he had set up fell over. Winston heaved a sigh as tension worked out of his body, as if bleeding out between the armor plates. "What happened?"

"I got zapped." Cassidy said, calming down again herself as she kept being a barnacle, her back being rubbed as her left arm stayed tucked against her front. Very thankful for Margery's patience with her. She reminded Cassidy of a younger version of her late grandmother. Only taller, and had a lot more muscle under a deceptive layer of fluff. "...and I panicked, I'm sorry Mr. Winston."

The scarred man, though he had his helmet on right then, crouched on his heels and picked up the cardboard and set it up. Made sure it was stable and got up to check the giant in the sarcophagus, other than nothing the bandages needed replacing again… he was still and quiet, that steady calm breathing that had been there over the last week. Winston twitched his fingers, bringing up the feed from VEGA on the vitales, just a small jump in the heart beat that was in time with the yelp that drew Winston back from his almost lazy patrol of the sealed level.

Was he… this 'Great Slayer' starting to hear things?

"He's still asleep," Winston announced despite his mental note to check things, his voice dropping to as soft of rasp he could manage now. Going to fetch the medical kit left by the door and checked through it. It had been properly refilled again, that was good.

#omie's writing #BFDG story #doom 2016 #doomguy #doom slayer #mini giant #UAC is questionable but good insurance payout #[someone hug Cassidy]

[kerone-engineering]

Importance and applications of Industrial Minerals

Industrial resources (minerals) are geological materials that are mined for their industrial worth, that are not fuel (fuel minerals or mineral fuels) and aren’t sources of metals (metallic minerals) but are utilized in the industries based on their physical and/or chemical properties. they’re utilized in their natural state or after beneficiation either as raw materials or as additives in a very wide range of applications.

Industrial minerals could also be defined as minerals mined and processed (either from natural sources or synthetically processed) for the value of their non-metallurgical properties, that provides for their use in a particularly wide range of industrial and domestic applications.  As a general rule, they’ll also be defined as being non-metallic, non-fuel minerals.

Obvious examples of naturally occurring industrial minerals include:

clays

sand

talc

limestone

gypsum

pumice

potash

Other examples of natural industrial minerals include minerals that also have a metallurgical as well as non-metallurgical value, such as:

bauxite (aluminium metal + bauxite used in cements, abrasives, refractories & alumina source for many applications)

chromite (chrome metal & ferrochrome alloy + foundry sand, chemicals, pigments)

rutile (titanium metal + white pigment for paints, paper, plastics)

zircon (zirconium metal + source of zirconia for ceramics, glass)

manganese (manganese metal + source of manganese dioxide for batteries, pigments)

stibnite (antimony metal + source of antimony trioxide used as flame retardant)

Quartz (silicon metal + source of silica in glass, ceramics, fillers).

There are also synthetic industrial minerals that are factory-made from natural minerals. Artificial minerals are usually processed as a result of the inferior characteristics and/or scarcity of their natural counterparts.

Quite frankly, without industrial minerals, an enormous range of everyday domestic and important industrial product would simply not exist. In a median 9-5 working day you’ll probably acquire contact with a minimum of 100 things that are factory-made from industrial minerals.

A useful example is a quick examination of your home kitchen to see just how important industrial minerals are to our everyday environment. Industrial minerals in your kitchen:

In essence, wherever there is demand for these industrial and domestic applications, i.e. a market, this will create a trading business specific to that market. The crucial point is that the pattern of industrial minerals trade is utterly dictated by the needs of the population and the performance of the economy, and then combined with mineral availability.

As an industrial minerals consultant once said: “Without a market, an industrial mineral deposit is merely a geological curiosity”. So, put simply, no market demand = no mineral development = no mineral trade.

Mineral consuming market existence and its performance directly affects demand, and therefore trade, for mineral raw materials

The route of a mineral from mine to market may involve more than one stage, i.e. its consumption in manufacturing an intermediate mineral or end product, which is then consumed in the manufacture of another end product, which is then sold to an end-use market.

Many industrial minerals can serve a range of markets, which also impacts the pattern of minerals trade in that a single mineral source can supply several different customers owing to market type, as well as market geography.

For example, bentonite sourced in Wyoming travels to domestic and overseas population centres owing to its widespread use as an absorbent in cat litter products. However, its equally important use as a major component in drilling fluids means that it is also freighted to centres of oil and gas drilling activity, eg. Gulf of Mexico.

Typical examples of industrial rocks and minerals are limestone, clays, sand, gravel, diatomite, kaolin, bentonite, silica, barite, gypsum, and talc. Some examples of applications for industrial minerals are construction, ceramics, paints, electronics, filtration, plastics, glass, detergents and paper.

In some cases, even organic materials (peat) and industrial products or by-products (cement, slag, silica fume) are categorised underneath industrial minerals, further as metallic compounds mainly used in non-metallic type (as AN example most titanium is used as AN oxide TiO2 instead of Ti metal).

The analysis of raw materials to see their suitability to be used as industrial minerals needs technical test-work, mineral processing trials and end-product analysis; free to transfer evaluation manuals are accessible for the following industrial minerals: limestone, flake graphite, diatomite, kaolin, clay and construction materials.

The best way to see who is involved in the industrial minerals business is to examine the mine to market supply chain.

All industrial minerals are mined (surface and underground) and so undergo processing to refine the crude mineral ore into a processed grade or series or grades for sale to the market. These are then transported from the source to a different plant for further process, or directly to the consuming markets.

We at KERONE have experience of 47+ years in helping the industries with their needs. We at KERONE have a team of experts to help you with your need for Industrial Minerals in various products range from our wide experience.

[wemarketresearchreport]

Foot Mask Market Research Trends Analysis by 2016-2030

The global foot mask market was worth USD 445.5 million in 2020 and is expected to expand with a CAGR of 5.5% over 2022-2030. Due to various growth inducing factors, the business vertical is poised to amass a valuation of USD 4757.53 million by 2030.

A skin care product called a foot mask is used to treat feet. A foot mask typically contains a variety of nutrients and active substances that nourish the feet with the things they need to stay healthy and beautiful. The foot mask is applied on the feet in the same manner as the face mask. Either thick cream or booties can be used as a foot mask. The foot mask dries on its own, removes pollutants from the feet, and increases blood flow to the feet. Additionally, it hydrates, exfoliates, and eliminates odour while also making the skin smooth and supple.

Skin-friendly substances are released when you apply foot masks on your feet and heels. For instance, the coconut milk + verbena exfoliating foot mask contains papain and willow bark extract to exfoliate, lemon, orange, and pumpkin seed extracts to polish feet, and black tea extract and bromelain to soothe and smooth the skin.

The cosmetic industry has recently seen a huge increase in the popularity of foot masks. This is due to the fact that they can cleanse the body, quicken cell renewal, aid in detoxification, exfoliate, and moisturise rough foot skin. Additionally, using a pumice stone and other conventional procedures to remove calluses takes a lot of time and effort; the mask does not.

Get Free Sample Access:- https://wemarketresearch.com/sample-request/foot-mask-market/505/

Global Foot Mask Market- Segmental assessment

By Price

Low

Medium

High

By Application

Personal

Commercial

The personal segment is slated to generate significant returns by 2030 ascribing to the surging disposable income of the masses.

By End User

Male

Female

By Distribution Channel

Online

Offline

The online segment is poised to amass notable gains over the stipulated timeline owing to the rising popularity of e-commerce sales channels.

Top players profiled:-

FX Studio, DR FOOT, Soft Touch Foot Peel, BIOAQUA OFFICIAL STORE, Holika Holika, Holistique Beauty Products Private Limited, TONYMOLY, Natura Siberica, AMOREPACIFIC US Inc., Scholl’s Wellness Co, and Johnson & Johnson Consumer Inc.

Access the Complete Report At:- https://wemarketresearch.com/reports/foot-mask-market/505/

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the growth rate projection for Global Foot Mask Market over 2022-2030?

What are the major factors influencing the expansion trends of the Global Foot Mask Market?

What are the primary segments covered in the Global Foot Mask Market?

What are the major regions present in the Global Foot Mask Market?

Which is the fastest growing region in the Global Foot Mask Market?

About We Market Research

WE MARKET RESEARCH is an established market analytics and research firm with a domain experience sprawling across different industries. We have been working on multi-county market studies right from our inception. Over the time, from our existence, we have gained laurels for our deep rooted market studies and insightful analysis of different markets.

Our strategic market analysis and capability to comprehend deep cultural, conceptual and social aspects of various tangled markets has helped us make a mark for ourselves in the industry. WE MARKET RESEARCH is a frontrunner in helping numerous companies; both regional and international to successfully achieve their business goals based on our in-depth market analysis. Moreover, we are also capable of devising market strategies that ensure guaranteed customer bases for our clients.

Contact Us:

We Market Research

Phone: [phone]

Email: [email protected]

[libraryoftime]

Nettie is eating ice cream. The cold burns against her silver incisor, but feels good against the small cut inside her mouth she’d gotten last week. It’s an even trade.

Nettie is all about even trades.

Most think that they liked to be paid in money. Old money, sure, gold and silver that doesn’t have the same sort of inflation risk as paper, but that implies that they have something to spend it on.

No, Nettie’s maybe the only one who knows what sort of things monsters like to be paid in and is willing to provide it. Which is why she’s sitting in the middle of a park at 3 am waiting for her contact to arrive.

At 3:03, her contact’s preferred meeting time, the fog rolls in. Nettie rolls her eyes as it creeps through the sparse trees ahead of her, turning the grass silver under the moonlight with precipitation. So dramatic and not at all secretive. Her eyes flick up to the security camera mounted on the lamppost across the street. She wonders when the government will admit they see monsters at night. She hopes it’s not in her lifetime.

That’d be bad for business.

The outline of a tree several yards away from her begins to waver. It looks like someone might be behind it, a darker band appearing around the trunk as if someone is hugging it. Then they’re gone and the same wavering, black shadow appears behind a tree several feet ahead of it.

Nettie watches and eats her ice cream, glad that her leather jacket is hiding the way her arm hair is standing on end. She’s never been the type to hide her fear.

Then she met beings who enjoyed it.

A dark pool in front of her widens, the shadows twisting upwards. She calmly takes a  bite of the cone as the shade forms, the shadow creature not stopping until it’s reached its full height at seven feet.

She feels the sensation of pumice in her mind and frowns. “Gren? Where’s Mandy?”

The shadow figure ripples, for once not kicking up a fuss at her nicknames for them. An orange light flares briefly in what one might assume was its hand but she knew to be its mouth.

Her spine snaps straight. “What?”

Gren rises to nine feet and then deflates, the air chilling further around him.

“Taken,” Nettie repeats in disbelief. She looks at her remaining ice cream and robotically takes another bite. “Caught? So it’s true then. My target is like me.”

Gren makes a sound like a wind rushing through a lighthouse. Then it widens, lowering down and down until Nettie gets the impression that it’s sitting across from her.

She throws Gren a disgusted look. “Of course I’m going after Mandy. They’re under my employ, after all. I’m just a little surprised that there’s an adult who’s got the Imagination.”

Gren roils.

“Yeah,” she mutters and snaps her teeth over the last of her ice cream. There’s chocolate in the bottom of the cone, something she’d been looking forward to an hour ago. “I guess it’s more common they you’d think.”

Gren blames those violent videogames.

————————————————

Nettie’s been tracking a murderer. She’s a bounty hunter these days, one of the only professions her family’s skills help her with.  The police don’t like her, but that’s never bothered her.

Like her employees, she rather gets off on not being liked.

She slams into her tiny apartment as dawn breaks, chewing on her lip. She steps on the mail someone’s slipped under her door and rolls her eyes when she looks down to see her family’s crest on one of the letters.

Dear Annette, please come home and kindly submit to the match your mother and I have chosen for you. With just a little Imagination, we believe…

Nettie didn’t even need to read the damn thing at this point.

“Get another lab rat already,” she mutters, twisting her foot over the pristine parchment so that the dirt on the bottom stains it. Or, she thinks, keep torturing kids to keep the Imagination. No breeding necessary.

A life of fear had given her enough Imagination to buy monster services. She didn’t owe any more of her life to anyone.

“Except,” she says aloud, “to Mandy.” She scrubs a hand over her face. “Fuck.”

She employed monsters, but, unlike her family, she actually employed them. There’s a contract and everything, one that promises them the right to reinforcements should the dangers of the job exceed those projected at the time of signing.

Since this last job was reconnaissance of a supposed normal serial killer, getting captured far exceeded anticipated danger levels.

Nettie drags the job folder towards her, ticking down each location she’d had Mandy check. The North quadrant’s clear, and the West, but there’s no terrible, inky signature showing that Mandy ever signed off on the South.

Nettie looks up at the map on her wall, push pins each representing one murder. If she imagines the guy’s in the south quadrant, she gets…a fat lot of nothing. No helpful ring or easy pattern to follow him to his little hidey hole and get to Mandy before the guy kills it.

“Which means,” she says, kicking away from her desk, “that I get to be a goddamn bloodhound.”

Shades as terrifying as Mandy are rare. Usually they never reached more than three or four feet, but Mandy’s nearly ten, bigger than Gren even. That’s a lot of monster power cooking up there, and Nettie’s got just the skill set to track that down.

She really hates field work. She much prefers to outsource labor whenever possible, but Jiji, the horrifying eldritch abomination she usually uses for muscle, is out of realm.

“Rude,” she hisses at the ceiling. She stomps back to her front door. With any luck, she’d find them before dark.

———————————————

The sun is setting before she gets to the right neighborhood, feet aching in her boots.

“God damn inconsiderate ass!” Nettie seethes as she leans down yet again to lay one hand flat on the ground. She sends out a pulse of energy and waits. This time it comes back to her much faster with the right texture. Mandy feels like pyrite and Nettie could cry now that she’s finally close.

She really hates field work.

The pulse and echo leads her to a small, one story house. It’s yellow, like half the other small, one story houses in the neighborhood, lawn grudgingly kept and fence beat to shit around the yard.

Nettie staggers right up to the door and kicks it in. She’s really not in the mood to play with a serial killer, not after walking around this asshole town for ten hours straight.

There’s a man in the living room, dark hair and wearing more years than were probably his on his face. He looks up at her with surprise when she charges in, hands stilling around the large kitchen knife and sharpening stone he’s holding.

“I’m making curry,” he says.

Nettie rolls her eyes for the third time in the last 24 hours. “Sure, maybe, but you’re also a serial killer so I’m still going to ask you to put that down.”

“A serial killer,” the man says. “How rude. I’m an artist.”

“I fucking hate you Hannibal Lecter types,” Nettie says and leaps over the couch between her and the man in the arm chair.

Of course this is a man responsible for nearly two dozen deaths, so it’s not as easy as Nettie’d hoped. It doesn’t help that he’s actively trying to kill her and she’s trying to incapacitate him.

“Bet you’re not used to getting your ass kicked by a woman,” she pants after a while. Her knuckles are red with his face blood and her shirt is torn from his stupid knife.

“Can’t say it’s common,” he says through gasping for air. “Considering, you know, my demographic.”

“Yeah,” she says, wiping her mouth. More blood comes off on her hand and she scowls. “I fucking hate misogynists.”

The man has the audacity to look hurt. “I don’t hate women.”

“You kill them!”

“Well, yeah,” he says, “but that’s because men don’t remind me of my mother.”

She gapes at him. “That–that doesn’t make it better!”

“Sure it does,” he says, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m not killing them because they’re women. I’m killing them because they remind me of dear old mom. That’s practically feminist.”

“That’s–” She shakes her head. “That’s not.”

He looks offended. “Are you saying that serial killers can’t be feminist? That’s killer-ist.” He pauses. “That didn’t work out like I wanted. It’s something -ist though. Prejudice–”

She lunges at him before he can say anything else.

Finally, she gets him pinned, one arm around his neck, the other occasionally punching him in the kidney because, fuck, he pulled her hair and that shit hurt.

“Where’s the Shade, asshole?” Nettie asks when she’s got her breath back.

“This is about the Shade?” the man gasps out. “I thought you were a police officer!”

“Bounty Hunter,” she corrects. “But also monster employer. And you trapped my employee.”

“You–you can see them too,” the man realizes. He grins and then chokes as he forgets about the arm around her throat. “This is great! I’ve never met anyone like me who–” his face clouds. “Wait, then you know why I do what I do. We’re one of them, monsters, and it’s our job to spread the terror we felt when we were kids!”

She bashes his head into the floor, stands, and kicks him for good measure. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Shade. Now.”

He flops onto his back and frowns at her. Half of his face is swollen already, the other half struggling to catch up. “But–you’re like me. They’re like us. We’re like them.”

“And we’re all one,” she says sarcastically. She only doesn’t roll her eyes for fear of eye strain. She’s met her quota for the day. “You’d know what bullshit that was if you knew what they actually were.”

She sends out a pulse and curls her lip when it comes back immediately. In the room, of course, and finally dark enough that she can just release Mandy instead of carrying it in her shadow.

“What they actually are?” he asks. He doesn’t try to get up, which is smart. She’s pretty sure she broke some of his ribs.

“Parasites,” Nettie says. She follows the pulse to the closet and frowns at the papers stuck to it. Yeah, that’d do it. Religious text, one the serial killer obviously believes in. Infused with enough hope to keep Mandy caught tight. “Though they hate it when you call it that. Probably closer to bottom feeders?”

She rips open the closet door to a wall of spitting and hissing shadow. Mandy pauses its assault at the last moment, twisting as it sees that it’s Nettie.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nettie says, cradling her side. He might have broken a few of her ribs, actually. “You knew I was coming, it was in the fucking contract.”

“Contract?” the serial killer asks. He sits up painfully. “And I still don’t understand what you’re saying. They’re monsters, their one goal is to cause fear–”

“No,” Nettie says. “They eat fear and darkness. Damn bugs. You ever wonder why you only find them in places where bad shit has happened? Why they stayed under your bed and never the kids’ with a happy childhood? Ever wonder why you can still see them even after you got old?”

“I’m not that old,” the serial killer says.

“Sure,” Nettie says and leans against the wall. “Well, trouble is they’re not really allowed to do anything like in ye olden plague days. Something about new leadership, I don’t know. So they’ve gotten a little…hungry. Their society is in a recession. Or something. I wasn’t really paying attention to Jiji’s explanation.”

The serial killer watches warily as Mandy looms forward. “Um, what is it doing? And who’s Jiji?”

“Jiji is what was under my bed growing up,” Nettie says. She sighs and motions Mandy forward. “And Mandy here is demanding overtime pay on account of being held captive for 16 hours, the big baby.”

The serial killer tries to move back, away from the approaching Shade, but his arms give out. “Get it away from me.”

“You see,” Nettie continues like he hadn’t said anything, “monsters don’t get paid in money. They get paid in darkness. And you sir are like 18 karat gold.” She looks at Mandy. “No killing, I still need to take him in alive.”

Mandy ripples and surges forward.

No promises.

[jellyfish-grave]

Hey guys. You won't believe what I drew today

#camma the drawer #outer wilds #timebuddies #time buddies #alright. time to tag everyone #hornfels #gossan #hatchling #(theyre called adakite in the fic im eriting so thats why) #feldspar #hal #riebeck #gabbro #slate #esker #chert #OW pumice #yeah i sneaked my oc in there did you see them AHAHAH #i just thinkkkk that hal has contributed their fair ammount to the program and should get to be a part of it. #Also I WANTED ESKER TO BE IN A PICTURE WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY ALWAYS IGNORED :(((( #hi #are you guys convinced by my propaganda. #outer wilds hatchling #outer wilds feldspar #outer wilds hal #outer wilds esker #outer wilds chert #hey what the fuck why doesnt hornfels get a tag........ :((((( #outer wilds gabbro #cam ocs

[holstfalk9]

A journey manual For Praia Da Rocha, Portugal

Starting from Trinity college, trough the Monee Mallon monument directly to the O'Conell and Henry Road where are sited most of eating places and Irish pubs. River Leafy devide the metropolis in to the two parts. Buses for site seeing are easy available. You can guide a tour and enjoy in the good site seeing. Throughout your Vacation Travel you will discover Guinness trade mark is presented on every corner. Pubs and bars are trade mark of Dublin. Becoming in Eire means being in Dublin but don't skip to see Guiness brewery. Taste the unique smelt of darkish Gunnies beer and Jamison whiskey, all combined with the good Celtic's songs and Irish dance nicely know all more than the globe. The locals are generally use to the heat and don't wear any kind of sunscreen, but if they are working outdoors, they almost always have a handkerchief. When it's really scorching, they wet the handkerchief and tie it around their neck or place it on their head to awesome them down from the hot sun rays. Often I get very fundamental with people and have them evaluate just two elements - who am I and What is the Very best Setting for Me in the World of Function? We location Who Am I in the circle on the still left and Globe of Function on the right hand circle. click here overlapping region we contact Very best Match. The space on the left appears at values, abilities, passions, passions and skills. The circle on the correct is reserved to explore career possibilities in the market - the context in which they would be working. Want some religious encounter throughout your Dhanbad journey? Nicely, going to Parasnath might well turn out to be a unforgettable encounter. Parasnath Metropolis is dotted with numerous Jain temples. It is also the second tallest hill in Jharkhand at an altitude of about 4431 ft and is known as Parasnath Hill. In accordance to the Jain scriptures, 22 out of 24 Tirthankaras from the 2 sects of Jainism attained salvation here. Normally, there are numerous temples from both the Digambara and Svetambara Jain sects located right here. Owing to its in depth connectivity to bus routes, you can effortlessly accommodate a journey to Parasnath in your travel planner. To begin with, you must have your schedule of India travel ready with you. You should buy a detailed traveling to indonesia of India and research about the places you are heading to visit in India in progress only. Make sure to book your teach tickets in advance. The booking can be carried out via the approved journey agent. Never entertain any unauthorized persons for this. Usually carry the medications and the first help package based on your requirements. What you have to consider from life's classes is that time waits for no 1. You have to make your personal moves and then people will help you alongside the way. Not " I'm heading to wait around for individuals to display me the way." Perhaps for some individuals. At any rate, to solo or not to solo is a choice that you obviously have to make primarily based on your requirements, and what your objective is. If you are the carefree kind that's not as well caught on travel and require a companion then by all means deliver a buddy or two. I have travelled in groups and have enjoyed myself immensely. If you want to see a beautiful spring feed stream, this is worth a go to, pure water with a hint of blue flowing over white pumice bed. There is also a good stand of redwoods and I would be shocked if you didn't' see any trout in the stream (no fishing allowed, sorry).

#agen bola piala dunia 2022 group

[the-scariest-librarian]

Amor Vincit Omnia

Things You Said When We Were Afraid.

This is for @mercurygray‘s 1000 follower celebration, and for the 2 year anniversary of The Darkening Sky! Congratulations, Merc! 

This ultimately ended up nothing like I had originally intended, but I hope it's okay nonetheless. I hope I did it justice.

There isn’t a science to it, when one will Remember. Some go their entire cycle without the memories of selves past, and some –her name is Molly this time around– live countless lifetimes at once. “An old soul,” her nana once called her, mistaking the imprint of millenia for solemnity uncommon in a girl of just eight.

Lewis Nixon remembers; she knows as soon as she sees him in the blazing Georgia sun and he sends her a cheeky wink. The last time they had seen each other was in the court of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, and before that in Londinium. For all that their numbers are comparatively few, the Reincarnated always seemed to find each other.

There are a surprising number in Easy Company. Eileen and Connie both give her a knowing nod when they’re introduced, as do Shifty and Joe Toye. The looks Marjorie shares with her sometimes make her think that the other woman’s trigger was recent, but she can be counted among the number of those who remember at least something. The others just think that their quips are some odd sort of humor.

“Why would I play with you when you still owe me six denarii?” Molly asks blandly as she idly flips through a dog-eared copy of ancient poetry.

Billie wags a finger at her playfully from the poker game occurring several seats down.

“Don’t give me that; you know damn well I paid you back in the ninth century.”

Molly doesn’t even look up from her book.

“You forgot almost eight hundred years of interest.”

For all that she grew up with the memories of numerous lifetimes, none of it prepares her for the punch to the gut that is seeing the man who spent millenia at her side. He was Glaucus and she was Agape. When she was Iðunn, he was Eadric. No matter what tore them apart, be it war, disaster, or old age, they always found each other again.

In Troy, when Greek ships darkened their shores, he spoke to her the words that never failed to soothe her. In Pompeii, when ash and pumice fell from the sky and the ground shook with Vulcan’s terrifying might, he held her to his chest –she was Hadriana then, Molly remembers– and spoke them again.

Again, before every raid. Again, when he left to explore the New World. Again, when he donned the Patriot’s blue, and later the Union’s.

“I will always return to you.”

And so he has, even if she can see in his eyes that he does not know her as she knows him.

She doesn’t push; it wouldn’t change anything even if she did. Still, if he notices that she keeps an eye on him more than most, he doesn’t give any indication.

When he’s stabbed by a jumpy comrade, Molly feels as if the rest of her life has already been stolen from her. Something of it must show on her face as she watches him –his name is Floyd this time around– being carted away, because he calls to her as he passes, voice tight with pain.

“Aww, don’t worry Mahoney; I’ll be back before you even have time to miss my handsome face.”

When artillery around them shatters trees and bodies alike, he pries her anxious hand from his jacket and makes to leave the meager protection of their shallow foxhole to answer a nearby call for help.

“Stay down, Molly, I’ll come right back. Promise.”

When the war is over and this goodbye could very well mean forever, she gets just a moment’s hesitation and a muttered “See ya around, Moll.”

She can't remember a single lifetime where it ever took them this long to return to each other, both in body and soul. They’d always been lucky before, but it seemed their luck had finally run out and this would become their first life apart. It’s happened to others.

She'd rather live with his ghost than stay with this shadow who doesn't understand why earthquakes terrify her, or why she sometimes dreams of being thrown to her death from an ancient city's walls. She could have done it, once, she thinks, but she's used up a lifetime of strength in these last few bloody years.

So, Molly lets him go.

She watches him until his jeep turns the corner and then banishes the thought of him from her mind. It works for a time, at least until she returns to her remaining comrades and Joan meets her gaze with sad, knowing eyes.

When she’s back stateside for the first time in years, Molly immediately enrolls in UC Berkeley’s anthropology program and leaves it as Dr. Mahoney. Four years of graduate school work well enough to keep her busy, but although she keeps regular correspondence with several members of Easy, there is still a kind of hollowness inside of her that finally makes her desperate enough to upend her life once again.

She moves to Italy in 1951 to assist in the restarted excavation of Pompeii. She’s seen the pictures; she knows what’s there. Still, it takes her several weeks to muster the will to seek it. She’s not afraid that it will hurt; she knows it will. It’s the fear that seeing it will make her regret ever letting him leave at all.

Despite the Allied bombs that damaged chunks of the city, ancient feet guide her path as if she had never left, stepping easily over crooked paving stones and wheel ruts in the street. She doesn’t work in this section of the city –doesn’t know if she could bear it if she had to– but she remembers every home and every storefront. The graffiti on the walls she passes has faded with time, but she was there when her countrymen scratched their thoughts into plaster, and she is still here as it is rediscovered.

At last, but also much too soon, Molly stops in front of a small villa, more familiar than the rest. It’s in poor shape; she knows by sight alone that the building is unstable enough to be dangerous, but she cannot find it in her to turn back. She’s already come all this way.

With a deep breath, she steps into the shade.

The inside is just as she remembers, and yet not at all. The roof is gone, although some of the second floor walls remain. The paint that decorates the walls is faded and the plaster is missing in chunks, but it is still their home, Hadriana’s and Marcus’.

Careful steps take her around a crumbling corner, and there, frozen in plaster, they sit. She is curled in his lap, head tucked beneath his chin. The plaster is rough, but she can just make out a fold of fabric here, the curve of his nose there. It’s the closest she’s been to him in both six years and two millenia at once, even if all that remains is just an imprint of his life left in stone and ash.

It steals the breath from her lungs, to see the only thing that proves that her memories are not just elaborate dreams. A gravestone is one thing, and any tintypes that once existed are lost to descendants she doesn’t know in this life, but this is real. They existed once, and here they remain.

Molly steps gently closer and a patch of purple catches her eye, stopping her short.

She stares in surprise at the flower, identical to the one clutched in her own hand but wilted a little from the heat of the day, that lies upon the tragic figures. In the weeks it took her to build up the courage to visit her ancient home, she hadn’t seen a single blossom left in remembrance for any of Pompeii’s dead. The flower there in her own lap –or at least it belonged to her two thousand years before– brings tears to her eyes. Someone has remembered them.

She kisses the petals of the crocus in her hand and places it gently beside the first. She thinks the words, but cannot find it in herself to say them out loud.

The sudden crunch of dirt behind her startles her, tells her that she is no longer alone. She straightens; guilty shoulders hitch up to her ears in anticipation of a scolding from one of the site supervisors for being in such an unstable building. She knows better.

The voice that comes from behind her doesn’t belong to an aging archaeologist at all, but rather someone she hadn’t dared hope to see again.

“Heya, Moll."

I told you I’d always return to you, didn’t I?

#So I completely lost track of time and cranked this out last night #I hope you like it! #The darkening sky #Molly Mahoney #Floyd Talbert #Band of Brothers #OC #Fanfiction #Mercurygray #this is my first published fanfic on here yikes #tds birthday bash

[yourboatholiday]

A boat journey to the Aeolian Islands departing from Tropea, Calabria

Southern Italy is rich in history, traditions, and flavors as well as an enchanting sea that surrounds spectacular landscapes. Follow us on our itinerary in which we will “sail” the southern Tyrrhenian Sea with our sailboat, (or catamaran or yacht for hire, that’s your choice!) following the route to the Aeolian Islands. What are we waiting for?

CONTACT YBH FOR YOUR BOAT JOURNEY IN THE AEOLIAN ISLANDS

Where are located the Aeolian Islands?

We are in Italy and precisely in the south of this beautiful country. The Aeolian Islands are an archipelago of 7 islands located off the northeastern coast of Sicily. They can be reached by sea with a few hours of navigation both from Sicily itself and from nearby destinations such as Tropea, a Calabrian town from which we will start our journey.

Why choose Tropea as a starting point for the Aeolian Islands?

The choice to sail from Tropea and not from another of the ports from which it is possible to reach the Aeolian Islands is due to its excellent tourist port equipped with all services. Tropea is also a seaside town rich in history, places of interest, beaches, and the sea among the best in Italy.

VIEW ALL THE BOATS BASED IN TROPEA

Alternatively, if you wish to leave from a different port, other marinas are available along the north coast of nearby Sicily such as Milazzo, Capo D’Orlando, and Portorosa.

What is the saying about the Tropea marina for embarking on the Aeolian Islands?

The Port of Tropea is located near the historic city center and has about 600 berths that can accommodate megayachts up to 55 meters in length. Its depths range from 3 to 5 meters deep and all moorings are equipped with water and electricity supply columns.

The Marina is equipped with all the necessary services to make your stay comfortable and reception always available.

How to reach our home base, Tropea?

Tropea is easily accessible by car from the main cities of southern Italy, but the best way to get here is by air, landing at the international airport of Lamezia Terme, only about 60 km from the center of Tropea.

Any advice? For this kind of journey, rely on a serious and reliable rental company. Our choice is Your Boat Holiday, a safety in boat rental thanks to its professionalism.

So let’s start the itinerary that leads us to the discovery of Tropea and the Aeolian Islands in seven days:

Day 1 – Discovering Tropea

Once get in the city it is a must to spend at least one day there.

The historic Tropea center is located high up, about 70 meters above sea level, and dominates the sea which it overlooks. It is characterized by a maze of alleys, streets, churches, noble palaces, panoramic terraces, and incredible sea views that suddenly open up while walking. Among the many things to see, we would like to point out the Sanctuary of Santa Maria dell’Isola, located on a cliff overlooking the Aeolian Islands and the beach of Marina dell’Isola, made of white sand, overlooking the blue sea. From here you can reach the Grotta del Palombaro, which encloses a strip of sand lapped by turquoise waters at its feet.

  Day 2 – From Tropea to Stromboli

We finally lift anchor and set sail for our first destination: the Stromboli island.

Stromboli is the most surprising of the Aeolian Islands, it is in fact a large active submerged volcano and is the ideal destination for excursions and trekking.

Famous for its explosive volcano that produces spectacular eruptions, earning it the nickname of the Mediterranean Lighthouse, Stromboli is located on the northernmost and easternmost island of the Aeolian archipelago. Suggestive and fascinating, Stromboli is nothing but the top of a large submerged active volcano where you can find wonderful black sand beaches, the most beautiful of the Aeolian Islands.

The main town is the homonyms Stromboli. It’s placed along the northeastern coast and is formed by the villages of San Vincenzo and San Bartolomeo, suggestive with their white houses set along the lower slopes of the volcanic crater. The second town, Ginostra, is a small village along the south-eastern coast that can only be reached by sea.

Day 3 – From Stromboli to Panarea

Panarea is the smallest and the lowest of the Aeolian islands. Just 3 kilometers long and 2 kilometers wide, Panarea is a chic and worldly island. It is in fact frequented by wealthy tourists and personalities of the international jet set, who very often anchor their yachts along its coast.

Panarea is known for its thermal muds, black beaches, and wonderful sea. In addition, its whitewashed houses with blue doors and windows are reminiscent of the charm of the Aegean Sea Greek islands.

The small port of San Pietro, Ditella, and Drautto are the only centers on the island.

Day 4 – From Panarea to Salina

Very different from the other Aeolian islands, Salina is located in the central part of the Archipelago together with Lipari and Vulcano and is second in size. 

It is divided into three municipalities, Santa Marina, the main port of the island to the south, Malfa to the north, and Leni to the southwest.

Salina is a green island much loved by families thanks to its tranquility.

Among the most famous beaches, we find the black beach of Rinella, surmounted by caves carved into the rock, and the bay of Pollara located inside an ancient crater that has largely collapsed.

In Salina, excellent wines are produced including the unmissable Malvasia, a sweet and aromatic wine.

Day 5 – Day 6 – From Salina to Lipari

Lipari is the largest of the 7 islands that make up the Aeolian archipelago and from a tourist point of view, it is the most developed. For this reason, we decide to dedicate two whole days to it.

With its rugged coasts along which unique beaches, wide bays, and deep caves follow one another, Lipari seems made to be discovered by boat.

Its plateaus are ideal for trekking while its cliffs overlooking the sea offer splendid views. For these and other reasons, Lipari is a very popular destination for tourists from all over the world.

Lipari town is the main transport hub between the Aeolian Islands. The center is dotted with shops, restaurants, and bars while in the ancient Palazzo dei Vescovi, adjacent to the Cathedral of San Bartolomeo, there is an important Aeolian archaeological museum.

Spiaggia Bianca is the most famous island beach: located about 4 kilometers north of Lipari town and just beyond the village of Canneto, the beach owes its name to the spectacular expanse of pumice powder that makes it up.

Day 7 – From Lipari to Vulcano

Vulcano is one of the most evocative of the Aeolian Islands, with its fumaroles, black sand beaches, sulfurous muds, and jets of steam.

Among the main attractions are the thermal mud pool, the Sabbie Nere beach from where you can admire the splendid sunsets on the island of Filicudi, and the beach of Gelso.

Vulcano has a unique nature suitable for wonderful excursions. If you love walking, reach Capo Grillo, heading north, and admire astonishing views of the nearby islands while reaching the Fossa della Fucina, on top of the volcano, you will feel like you have set foot in a lunar landscape. 

Finally, don’t miss the Grotta del Cavallo, with its extraordinary play of lights and colors.

Contact  now YBH Charter Brokers:

You can contact us by sending an email at [email protected] or by phone, calling [phone], available also on WhatsApp for both calls and texting.

#ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt_fsqm_form_logo img, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt-eform-width-restrain, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt_fsqm_form_message_restore, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt_fsqm_form_message_success, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt_fsqm_form_message_error, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt_fsqm_form_message_process, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .ipt_fsqm_form_validation_error, #ipt_fsqm_form_wrap_7 .eform-ui-estimator { max-width: 100%; min-width: 240px; } /**/

/**/

Javascript is disabled

Javascript is disabled on your browser. Please enable it in order to use this form.

.ipt_uif_ajax_loader, .ipt_uif_ajax_loader *, ipt_uif_ajax_loader *::before, ipt_uif_ajax_loader *::after { box-sizing: border-box; }

Loading

FIND YOUR BOAT Go ahead, it's quick and simple

FIND YOUR BOATGo ahead, it's quick and simple

Select your boat Type(s)*

Motor YachtSail YachtCatamaranGulet

Departure*

Click here ×

Lenght of charter*

Week-end7 Days14 Days21 Days28 DaysOther

Where*

Just type the place you dream

Budget

Help us to find the best solutions for you0 - 25002500 - 50005000 - 1000010.000 - 20.00020.000 - 50.00050.000 -100.000+ 100.000

Write your name here

Write your e-mail address here

Write here

Get a quote!

Your form has been submitted

Thank you for your request. Our team will answer to you within 24 hours. I you have an urgent request then you can also call us on [phone].

Server Side Error

We faced problems while connecting to the server or receiving data from the server. Please wait for a few seconds and try again.

If the problem persists, then check your internet connectivity. If all other sites open fine, then please contact the administrator of this website with the following information.

TextStatus: undefined HTTP Error: undefined

.ipt_uif_ajax_loader, .ipt_uif_ajax_loader *, ipt_uif_ajax_loader *::before, ipt_uif_ajax_loader *::after { box-sizing: border-box; }

Processing you request

Error

Some error has occured.

A boat journey to the Aeolian Islands departing from Tropea, Calabria

February 27, 2021

Have you ever heard about Aruba? A paradise suitable for any season break!

February 26, 2021

Sailing Tuscany and Sardinia? Discover these mediterranean pearls during a boat tour itinerary!

February 25, 2021

Yachts with swimming pools, a dip into luxury!

February 24, 2021

Share this Post

The post A boat journey to the Aeolian Islands departing from Tropea, Calabria appeared first on YBH.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/3r0puP9 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

[skgway]

1825 June, Thurs. 30

6 3/4

12 50/60

Steph, after having called on my aunt, came at 10, to tell us his opinion – He thinks more favorably of her this morning and hopes she will be able to bear a gentle course of medicine – Says her liver is affected – It is torpid, and there is a scarcity, I think he said, of bile – He will try the blue pill, of which Mr. D– [Duffin] approves, and thinks Steph talks very sensibly – 

They both agree we had best try Buxton, after my aunt has taken Steph’s prescription for about 3 weeks at home – After which, and on seeing the effect of B– [Buxton] (which cannot be guessed at under a fortnight) we shall be better [al?] how to decide about abroad or not, etc. etc. – 

Read aloud great part of this mornings York Chronicle – Mr. D– [Duffin] and I went out at 12 – Called and sat a while with my aunt – Then at the Belcombes’ – Where Mr. D– [Duffin] left me to go to Hornor at 2 – Sat talking to Mrs. B– [Belcombe]. Steph and his wife seem to have exceeded their income by five hundred a year ever since they were married in the spring of eighteen hundred and sixteen and she owed nine hundred pounds before out of her nine per annum. I suppose from this they owe between five and six thousands. 

Mrs. B[elcombe] settled the allowance Harriet was to have for housekeeping at forty pounds a month. Steph paying for liquors, servants, wages, coals, house, rent, and taxes and she could not make it do. Why did they enter into dinner parties with ladies? But they might retrieve if they would but manage better etc. etc. 

Louisa sent down a message to say she should be glad to see me upstairs – She told me π [Mariana] was blinded. Harriet Milne had so completely thrown dust in her eyes she now took her part and blamed Mrs. Steph. It was Mrs. Milnes flirting with Mr. Meene that caused all the disagreeables and from Lou’s account I cannot hesitate to think Mrs. M[ilne] the bane of all their comfort, and that her conduct can never be depended on. 

Said Lou, ‘What will become of us if anything happens to my father? I shall go to my uncle.’ I said she was right but in the meantime should watch Mrs. M[ilne] narrowly. Assume the authority of virtue over vice and never let her stir without her, but mamma too is blinded. Her uncle had told her he never [saw] a womans feelings so easily excited as Mrs. M[ilne]’s. 

Lou would not have gone to Hull with her and Mr. Meene, but if she had not Anne would, and this would not have done – Mrs. M[ilne] got up one morning at six and met Mr. Meene downstairs, I fancy at or near the water closet, for Eliza suspecting something had watched. On Steph’s having noticed how early Mr. Meene had got up, ‘yes’ he said, ‘to go to the news room’. And on inquiry Steph found he had never been there. 

Steph thought of all this at first but now his eyes were blinded too. Lou insinuated that Mrs. M[ilne] had committed not only once, or even twice. Said nothing criminal could be proved. Said Lou, I don't know that if one may judge from writing more foolish. She said I to be so unguarded as to trust to paper at all rates. 

A second time she said it was well Mrs. M[ilne] and Mrs. Meene had quarrelled, for if Harriet had gone to the Broms something would have happened. She thought she did not like 𝛿 [Charles Lawton] and was safe at Lawton. Ah said I, I don't know that, The only day she was at Haugh End she rode above twenty miles with Major Priestly and told him she should be most happy to come and stay with them. I hope, said I, for Mary P[riestley]’s sake she will not. 

On this something was said about π [Mariana]. I somehow mentioned the three steps business last September, but one on blackstone edge. Said I should never forget it and hinted that our ever being together was very doubtful. Anne came and interrupted us.

I soon took my leave, but Lou going down with me. We walked up down the passage perhaps half hour. Here I opened on the subject, saying it was a comfort to me to have named it to Lou. That she might remember what I had said. Whatever should happen in future, she was the only one to whom I cared to appear in some degree justified. But I charged her not to utter what I had said, for I knew not my own mind. As yet I had said not a syllable of it to π [Mariana] nor should till I knew myself better, for I might come round again. 

I knew not for on revient toujours a ses premiers amours but I had never felt so oddly. π [Mariana] talked of coming to Shibden, but I hoped the visit would fall through. Lou asked if I should come to the festival. I said I thought not but certainly I should not if π [Mariana] came. Lou said how much she π [Mariana] loved [me]. She had done it at first against the wishes of all her family.

I asked if Lou remembered telling me she was worldly. No, she had quite forgotten. But if she did say so she meant only with respect to her marriage. I said the subject gave me great uneasiness. It was odd enough I had not thought of it abroad, but it occurred to me the moment of my return to Shibden and I had never been able to shake it off. 

Lou asked if it was owing to any preference I felt for any other. I said no. Is it, said she, Mrs. Barlow? No. Is it Miss de Sans? No. She should be sorry that so old a friendship should . . . . . here she stopped. Ah, said I, heaven only knows. For I do not. I never so little knew myself. I know not what I shall feel or do. 

Anne just came to us, but went away immediately and I took my final leave of both. Anne would wonder what had passed, for I felt as if my lips looked white – When upstairs Lou had said in her musing that she knew not what would become of them. What do you think of the lawyer? Meaning Eustace Strickland whom π [Mariana] had told me (in Paris I think) that she had refused. Ah, said, I why did you refuse him? But we both seemed to leave the subject to talk of π [Mariana]. Certainly I thought no more of it – 

It was after 3 before I got to Hornor’s – He was out – Would not be back of 1/2 hour – Went into Micklegate to say, I could not be back in time to dine at the D– [Duffin]s’ – Mr. D– [Duffin] seemed disappointed – But there was no remedy – Met Miss M– [Marsh] and Miss D– [Duffin] walking – They took a little turn with me, and got back to Hornor’s at 3 50/60 – 

Waited a long while – On examination Mr. Hornor found I had five upper double teeth with greater or less holes in them (of which I had not had the most distinct suspicion) and I had them all stopped with gold – My gums in very good order – My teeth requiring very little scaling, but that little was done – Should not use a too hard brush – Moderately hard – Bought 6 of Mr. H– [Honor]’s tooth powder. 

Should have some little mechanical action – The greater the tendency to form tartar on the teeth, the rougher the powder should [be] – The tops of the gums should be well brushed so as to clean away the tartar in its soft state – The tooth powder I use equal parts dragon’s blood, bolammoniae, and dragon’s blood, very good but would be improved by something to make it rather rougher e.g. one tenth proportion of the whole ingredients of powdered cuttle-fish bone (os sepiæ) or finely powdered pumice stone – The former would be rough enough for me – Powdered chalk (simply) a very good tooth powder – 

The scaling my teeth ought to have been 10/6, but I only paid the 5 /. [shillings] for the tooh drawing and the 7 /. [shillings] each for the teeth stopping – It being 5 1/2 when all this was done, went over to my aunt who ordered me a mutton chop which I relished more than anything I had had since our arrival in York –

After this wrote and left for the post office a couple of pages to my uncle (Shibden) to say, I had been detained, and that my aunt and I should post it together tomorrow, hoping to be off at 12, and at home about 7 – my aunt fancying I half said so. I had had the two pounds to pay Hornor from Miss Marsh, gave me two sovereigns. She is always good to me and would give me anything –

Told my aunt my conversation with Louisa about M– [Mariana]. Left my aunt just in time to get to the D– [Duffin]s’ to tea at 7 – Found a note from Louisa B– [Belcombe] and small parcel for her sister Eliza now at Haugh-End – Having heard Miss Duffin say yesterday after dinner she liked caraway seeds, and added Miss M– [Marsh] could eat them by the ounce I bought her 6 oz yesterday evening, but forgetting them brought them home this evening and running upstairs the moment I came in, and put them on her toilet – 

I saw by her manner afterwards she had seen them, but, not being tete-a-tete, she took no further notice of the thing – Yet she was evidently pleased by the attention – After tea we all walked (Mr. D– [Duffin] called to see Miss Day) 1/2 way to Acomb – 

Fine day – Very fine evening – Sat talking till 10 1/2 when Miss M– [Marsh] and I retired – E [two dots, treating venereal complaint] O [two dots, marking discharge] –

[in margin] Told Lou I should always be interested for her should be happy to do anything I could for her in point of advice or otherwise, and when she wanted a friend I begged she would apply to me – 

[in margin] Mrs. B– [Belcombe] gave me this morning Steph’s letter to Dr. Kenny enclosed in a note to myself. The letter open having requested to see it and shew it to Mr. D– [Duffin] who approves – But seems to think not much of anything but the pills – (the blue pill) – Handsome letter to Dr. K– [Kenney] will be glad to hear from him or see him at his house should he visit York –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #Shibden Hall 1825 #mariana belcombe #harriet belcombe #louisa belcombe #eliza belcombe #harriet milne

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [694]

As early dawn renews into actual dawn, and actual dawn glorifies itself into tangible morning Ellana has not yet found the words that should come to her mouth first.

Five years dead. Less than a few months alive again. Only a few scant hours complete with memory and soul.

Five years as nothing at all, a few months living as nothing without aim or purpose, a few months as a soul that can do nothing but regret.

And now she has minutes, maybe even seconds left, before it’s time for her to face her consequences and own up to them. Ellana’s let her concealment spells drop on their own. If anyone were to look they would find her sitting right here. In this room. On this chair. At this desk.

Ellana might be able to argue that this is where she should be. It is her table. It is her chair. It is her room. This is her place in the world.

The argument to that would be — it was. Past tense. It was hers. And then she gave it up when she kept her secrets and walked away in the dead of the night to die. Even if she didn’t think she was going to die. No one ever thinks that they’re going to die.

They would be right, these hypothetical debaters. This is not her place. She was dead, and before that she forfeited by make the decision she did.

But she wants it. Oh how she wants it.

Even with half of her as nothing but a soul, this is what that soul wanted more than anything. So much she was willing to risk death a second time for a taste of it. Even as a body with no memory, no heart, barely any will, some part of her was missing it. Searching out simulacra of it and finding it in gardens underneath apple trees.

There are the things that would be humorous for her to say.

Good morning. Finally awake are you? Did age dull your senses? Getting lax there. Dream well, husband?

There are the things that she’s wanted to say so much.

I love you. I’m sorry. I missed you so much. Please. Please. Please.

But there is something she should say that will take more than a few words.

All the words, all the sound in her wolf heart clamors in her lungs, her chest, her throat, her mouth, her teeth. All of it crowds and howls and fights and the end result is silence. Her mind is blank. She cannot think.

But there he is. And there’s the sun. And soon he will wake and she must have an answer because she owes him this much at the very least.

She turns the ring, bone and gold and promise, over and over in between her clammy fingers. To wear it. To not wear it. To wear it. To not wear it. It’s hers. It’s his. It’s hers. It’s his.

Ellana knows the instant that he is awake as he lets out a breath, body shifting slowly, a sound tired even upon immediately waking. He doesn’t know she’s here yet. She watches his hand slide across the empty bed, fingers curling into cold bedding. She hears his audible disappointment, resignation. Sees it in the way his fingers curl into a fist and release, withdrawing back to his side. She sees him taking stock of his day in his head, even if she can’t quite see his face from here, but she can imagine it. Eyes opened or closed she can imagine it.

And he starts to stretch minutely. Knuckles and joints crack as he braces himself for the cold morning. This is so familiar it hurts. Ellana wants to be there with him. She wants to coax him back to bed, complain that he’s letting cold air in, complain about losing her source of warmth. She wants to tug him back down and stubbornly put her head on his chest and tuck in for an extra half hour of sleep that he’ll indulge her with because he loves her and because he always wakes up early anyway.

Oh, how she wants.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, to stop herself from viewing this display of what she cannot have, but no sound comes out. Too much at once.

Something in the air shifts. And he is a very good spy. He knows when he’s being watched. Ellana can see when he realizes he’s not alone.

He slowly rises up, eye scanning the room until it rests right on her.

His face doesn’t change at all.

Ellana drinks him in properly.

She swallows, mouth dry, the sound loud in the empty morning coldness.

She watches him slowly sit up.

Ellana breathes in, breathes out, breathes in again. He isn’t going to talk first. It has to be her.

Start with the true things, she thinks, because those cannot be wrong. Because her crime was not being true to him before.

“I wanted you to be the first,” Ellana says, voice terribly uncertain and frail. “I wanted you to be the first one to know that I’m back, as myself I mean. Memory and magic and all. You deserve that. You deserved — you deserved a lot of things. A lot of it I didn’t give you. But this. This I could do.”

Bull is sitting up now, eye fixed on her, taking in every detail like she’s doing to him.

“My intention never was to die or hurt you or anyone,” Ellana says. “But I understand that intent and result do not always align. And ultimately, the result is what matters most.”

Ellana holds up the ring. Her ring. His ring. Suddenly heavy between her fingers, like a truth, like a stone, like a consequence.

She places it down on the table, the sound of it hollow and final.

“I’m returning this to you,” Ellana says. “Because I hurt you. I did not outright lie to you, but I kept secrets from you and obscured the truth. And I died for it. I love you. I still love you. I still want to be with you. I want this ring and everything it means and the promise it holds. But I am not quite the person I when we exchanged these rings and made that promise. I am not the person you chose to give this ring to. I removed a choice from your life by leaving, it is my intent to return that choice to you upon returning.”

Her hands feel cold and light without the weight of the ring. Empty and wrong. She knots her fingers in her lap and turns her face away from it, towards him. His eye lingers on the ring before turning back to her. Not unreadable, but blank. Far away. Distant. Faintly angry. Distantly confused. A foreshadowing of hurt.

“This ring is yours, whether it goes to someone else, into a flame, off the side of this mountain, or into a dark corner to never be seen again is up to you.”

There’s more to say. But it’s not her turn to speak anymore.

The Iron Bull breathes. It’s the breath he does whenever he needs to calm down, cool his head, organize his thoughts. It’s the breath he uses when he’s rallying and getting ready to delivery a rebuke that will shatter a person like a hammer to pumice.

The Iron Bull breathes, and Ellana feels like she’s about to die all over again.

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

[kaesaaurelia]

does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?

For @whumptober2019 day 2: explosion.  Content warning for a lot of fire, very bad burns, and general description of of major city-destroying disasters.

Posted late because I went to a Bastille concert last night and it was amaaaazing but it was also very late when I got home!  (look don’t @ me about the title it’s VERY THEMATICALLY RELEVANT.)

This is about an OC (Vehuel, Principality of Chicago... and several other cities in the past.)

Everything had been on fire for quite some time, and Vehuel was comfortable with that.

Well, no.  She wasn't.  That would be a lie.  She was resigned to that, but if she was honest with herself she was desperately uncomfortable, sweaty and sooty and bone-tired.

Currently she was dragging a man out of a haberdashery.  Vehuel wasn't sure if it was his shop or someone else's, but idiots had been trying to save things instead of their own skins all night, so of course, of course it fell to her to 

rush into the flames and drag him to safety.  Heaven had been very specific about this one; something about founding a city.  As if they didn't have plenty of decent cities already, she thought.  Maybe if they could stop blowing some of them up they wouldn't need to have humans build new ones.

"This better be a really good city," she muttered under her breath, slinging Aeneas over her shoulder.  He was unconscious this time, which was good; the last few times she'd dragged Aeneas away from certain death he'd been inconveniently awake and very annoying.  On the other hand, the longer he was unconscious the more likely he was to die, and she wondered if maybe she should try and wake him up, only not now, not in the middle of the street.  The city was burning around her and there were Acheans goddamn everywhere, and she had to keep moving.

Aeneas moaned.

"I guess we're doing this now, then," she muttered, and

put him down in the middle of the street, sparing a miracle to keep him from losing his balance as he regained consciousness.

The man's eyes opened and he stared at her.  "What?  Who are --"

"Leave," she snapped.  "Run!  Now.  Don't even remember me!"  He stumbled out of the building and into the throng of people rushing north.

The building burst into flames as soon as they were out, and the shop windows exploded outward, flames licking through them and up the sides of the building.

They'd been nice hats, Vehuel had to admit, but no hat was that nice.  Humans had stupid priorities, sometimes.

She hurried northward, pausing for a moment to watch work at the Field & Letier building with interest.  As before, Vehuel couldn't imagine any dry goods could be worth more than lives, but she couldn't drag all of these people away, and it was a beautiful marble building.  It would be a pity if it went up in flames.  Unlike the little haberdashery, the store surely had firehoses inside; maybe they could save it.  She did a quick blessing -- If it goes up in flames, everyone will get out all right, she told reality firmly -- and left them to their work.

The press of the crowd made the stifling heat even worse, and she'd had to save a few people from being trampled while mentally cursing out whoever's idea it had been to build the streets and sidewalks out of wood, honestly, what idiot had done that?  She would have to talk to the -- the -- whoever was in charge of that nonsense.  Elders?  No.  Aldermen.  Yeah.

Assuming they survived, of course.

The bridge was made of wood, too, because of course it was.  They might destroy it to stop the fire from jumping the river again, but she decided to stand watch here and make sure anyone who tried to cross could do so before that happened, and maybe keep it unburnt for as long as possible.  But the wind was going to be a problem; it had been the main problem in San Francisco -- San Francisco, had Heaven even reassigned that one yet?  Why was it always her cities going up in smoke?  Two cities in twenty years was a record even for her, though.

In a crowded place like this she normally wouldn't have opened her wings, but people kept pausing to stare at the flames roaring through the city behind them, so it was easy enough to slip into the sky, unnoticed, and circle over the bridge.  She watched the crowd for an hour or so, trying to instill in them a sense of community and responsibility to their fellow humans.  It almost worked; she didn't see any pickpockets, although there were a few opportunistic people trying to seize things other people had dropped.  They nearly got trampled for their troubles, but Vehuel kept them out of trouble.

A terrible clanging noise nearly made her fall out of the sky, and she saw that the courthouse had collapsed.  That had been the bell.  She flew closer, sparks streaking across her skin, and spared another miracle to keep the flames from engulfing the prisoners as they fled the ruined courthouse.

She looked back northward.  The wind was picking up again, and the rising air was carrying her too far above the city to see much, so she dove back down to soar over the north side of the river, hoping she could keep the wind from carrying the fire over.  It had already leapt over the river once; she'd be damned if she would let it happen again.

Well.  No.  She'd be reassigned, probably.  Heaven had always been merciful to her despite her many mistakes.

She pushed sparks and flaming debris southward with wingbeats when she saw them.  There were little flames along the surface of the river now, and several barges were on fire.  The throng fleeing across the bridge was pushing and shoving as the fire raged on the southern bank of the river.

She landed next to the railroad tracks on the northern bank, needing to take a moment and recover her strength.  It was too much, too much to keep people from being crushed on the bridge and hover in the air and notice all the sparks and keep them away and oh, she just wanted to go back to hanging around in saloons with good music and better beer, smoothing over barfights and cleaning card hustlers out of their hard-swindled money.

But as she was thinking this, something niggled at the back of her mind, and she noticed a scrap of something aflame floating on the breeze towards a tank car, and she reached for it with a miracle, to extinguish it, to transform the liquid inside to water, to -- to -- anything, really -- but she was too slow, and the flame landed on the train car.

"Oh come on, that's 

not fair, you can't just -- you can't just take my miracles away!" he shouted at the skies, and immediately regretted it, because, well.  Of course they could.

Vehuel looked around for anyone he could save, anything he could do now, his plan shattered by the complete and utter indifference of Heaven to the plight of a vacation town known for its baths and brothels.  It wasn't a good city, but it was beautiful in its way; it was human.

Just then, a little scroll floated down from the sky, which was much more welcome than the rain of ash and pumice they'd been having.  He ripped it open, and read, hoping it was the answer to his prayers.

It was not.  It was the answer to a question he'd asked nearly a week ago, when he'd suspected Vesuvius was going to erupt and wanted to know if there was anyone Heaven wanted to keep alive.  He'd learned his lesson from Aeneas; much easier to save somebody by dragging him out of the city well before it was aflame.

The note simply read:

Whole town expendable.

Fine.  Fine, that was fine, then.  He would just -- he would just have to deal with it.  He'd get a new body, at least; he didn't much like this one, it couldn't handle solar radiation nearly as well as the last one.  He unfurled his wings and braced them against the rolling cloud of acid and heat he knew was coming.

Not that they would help.  It was just instinct.

And suddenly his feathers were aflame and his flesh was melting off, and oh, he couldn't breathe for coughing, everything was

pain and fire and she was lying flat on her back and the ground was hot.

"Come on, get up," said somebody, and pulled her to her feet, only her eyes were watering and she was coughing up maybe both her lungs at once?  "Calm down, Vehuel, you don't need to breathe," said the voice, not unkindly but still impatiently.

She did that.  "Oh.  Oh, ow."  One of her wings was still on fire, and she shook it out.  She wouldn't be flying for a while.  She looked at her rescuer.  "Michael!" she said, and then she couldn't think of anything more to say, because!  Michael!

All around them, the world was on fire.  "A beam of wood just fell on the waterworks," said Michael, "so the fire department will be useless."

"They're already useless," grumbled Vehuel.  "Why are you here?"  She could dare to hope, if Michael was here.  Michael actually took her seriously, which was itself a little terrifying, because Vehuel knew she didn't merit that, but it meant she would help, and at this point Vehuel would've taken help from anyone except maybe Satan.

"I have a church protected with miracles on North Avenue and Church Street," said Michael, "but this is -- this is, frankly, an extraordinary fire, worse than I'd expected.  It's far north but I don't know if the fire will peter out before it gets there.  You try to get people there and I'll try and keep them safe when they get there.  Understood?"

Vehuel nodded numbly.  "But why are you here?" she blurted out.

Michael ignored her, and took off.  Vehuel watched her go, then took a deep, non-coughing breath to steady herself, and waded back into the flames.

#whumptober2019 #no.2 #good omens #michael good omens #kaesa op #my ocs #text #fiction #tw: fire #tw: burns #tw: major disasters #this is very self-indulgent and I am happy with that