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dailybestiary · 5 years

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Patch Has Issues: Dungeon #2

Issue: Dungeon #2

Date: November/December 1986 (Pretty sure my Christmas haul that year was full of dope toys from The Transformers movie/show.)

The Cover:

(Use of cover for review purposes only and should not be taken as a challenge to status. Credit and copyright remain with their respective holders.)

Ah, Clyde Caldwell. He, Larry Elmore, Jeff Easley, and last issue’s Keith Parkinson were the mainstays of TSR’s amazing stable of artists. I have a soft spot for Caldwell. He did the covers for the D&D Gazetteer series, which means his work emblazoned some of my absolute favorite books from my middle school years. (At the time I had the whole series except the two island books, GAZ 4 & GAZ 9 (which I’ve since collected), plus the Dawn of the Emperors box set. My favorites, for the record, were GAZ 3, 5, 10, and 13. I...may like elves...a little too much.) And even as I sit here, other covers demand to be named. The very first Dragonlance adventure, the iconic Dragons of Despair? The Finder’s Stone trilogy? The first Ravenloft box? Dragon #147? Yep, he did those covers too. He was amazing.

But hoo-boy, we also have to talk about the not-amazing parts. Once Caldwell settled on a way of doing things, that’s how he did them. Points for consistency, but man, he had tropes. Even his tropes had tropes. He had a way of painting dragon’s wings. He had a way of painting swords and boots. He had a way of painting jewelry, and belts and coins—ovals upon ovals upon ovals.

And his way of painting women was with as few clothes as possible. Everything I said about Parkinson last entry? Yeah, that goes double for Caldwell. He never paints pants when a thong will do. His take on the reserved and regal Goldmoon—thighs as long as a dwarf and bronzed buttcheeks exposed—reportedly left Margaret Weis in tears. Magic-users (God, I hate that term) famously couldn’t use armor in D&D and AD&D, but Caldwell’s sorceresses pretty much stick to gauze just to be safe. And the Finder’s Stone trilogy I mentioned above? Yeah, the authors of Azure Bonds took one look at Caldwell’s cover art and literally had to come up with in-text reasons why the heroine Alias—one of the most surly woman sellswords in existence—would wear armor with a Caldwell boob hole.

Don’t get me wrong, I love cheesecake as much as the next dude. (Actually that’s not true; I came up in the grunge ’90s—our version of cheesecake was an Olympia brunette in three layers of thrift store sweaters reading Sandman while eating a cheesecake. Hell, that’s still my jam.) But context matters. The sorceress from “White Magic,” Dragon #147’s cover, may barely be wearing a negligee, but she’s also in the seat of her power and probably magically warded to the hilt—she can wear whatever she damn wants; it’s her tower. So no complaints there. But this cover’s pirate queen Porky Piggin’ it seems like an unwise choice. (The friction burns alone from clambering around the rigging…)

It’s clear from reading The Art of the Dragonlance Saga that TSR was trying to turn the ship around when it came to portrayals of women in fantasy, however slowly. And in Caldwell’s defense and to his credit, he definitely delivered women with agency—in nearly every image, they are nearly always doing something active and essential. They just tend to be doing it half-dressed.

Which is all a way of saying I dig this cover—the explosion, the churning sea (even if it does more look like snow drifts than waves), the sailors all running to the rail to look—but yeah, that pirate captain needs to put on some damn pants.

The Adventures: Before we get started, I have to note that though we’re only an issue in, already the magazine feels more noticeably like the work of editor Roger Moore. This is 100% a guess, but it really feels to me like Dungeon #1 was made of adventures that the Dragon office already had laying around, whereas Dungeon #2 was composed of adventures that Roger Moore and the new Dungeon team had more of a hand in sifting through. (He also has an assistant editor this time in Robin Jenkins, which had to have helped.) Even the cartography looks better. Again, I have zero confirmation of this, but the feeling is strong.

“The Titan’s Dream” by W. Todo Todorsky, AD&D, Levels 5–9

PCs visiting an oracle accidentally walk right into a titan’s dream and must solve some conundrums to escape. What an awesome concept this is! (Spoilers for “Best Concept” section below.) It’s a shame I don’t like this more.

First of all, dreamworld adventures are really hard to do well. And for them to work, there usually need to be real stakes—and not just “If you die in the dream, you die in real life!”—and/or a real connection to the PCs in your campaign. The latter, especially, is really hard to pull off in a published adventure; typically it’s only achieved through tactics that critics deride as railroading. (For instance, @wesschneider’s excellent In Search of Sanity does a great job of connecting the characters to their dream adventures...but it does that by a) forging the connection at 1st level, and b) pretty strongly dictating how the adventure begins and how the characters are affiliated. It works, but that’s high-wire-act adventure writing.)

Being a magazine adventure, “The Titan’s Dream” doesn’t have that luxury—it’s got to be for a general audience and work for most campaigns. That unfortunately means the default “Why” of the adventure—a lord with a child, a wedding, and an alliance at stake hires the PCs to chat with a wise titan—is little more than that: a default.

On top of that...I cannot get excited about anything Greek mythology-related. To me, just the fact I’m seeing it is a red flag.

Look, Greek mythology is why I got into this hobby. Hell, it’s why I got into fiction, period. (For some reason I somehow decided I had no use for fiction books targeted to my age, with the exception of Beverly Cleary. Then in 4th(?) grade, I got a copy of Alice Low’s Greek Gods and Heroes, and the rest is history.) But Greek mythology is often the only mythology anyone knows. When people think polytheism, that’s where most people’s minds go. Which is why, if you ever played D&D in the ’80s, I pretty much guarantee your first deity was from that pantheon. (In my first game, my first-level cleric pretty much met Ares and got bitch-slapped by him, because that’s what 4th-grade DMs do.)

So to me, putting Greek deities or titans in your adventure is the equivalent of putting dudes riding sandworms into your desert adventures—you can do it, but you better blow me away, because that is ground so well trod it’s mud. And this one doesn’t do the job.

The format is three dreams, each with five scenes. Parties will move randomly—a mechanic meant to represent dream logic (or lack thereof)—through these scenes, until all the scenes from one dream have been resolved. This is actually kind of fascinating, and I wonder how it would play at the table—I have a feeling observant players will dig it, but others may find the mechanism’s charm wears off quickly, especially if they have difficulty solving the scenes or get frustrated with the achronicity of events. I also like that every scene has a number of possible resolutions, so the PCs aren’t locked into achieving a single specific objective like they were stuck in a computer game.

But...I can’t shake the feeling of weak planning and execution (or even laziness?) that stayed with me throughout the adventure. Like, okay, the first adventure is a cyclops encounter out of the Odyssey. Cool! But then...why does the Titan follow it up with pseudo-Norse/Arthurian encounter? Did the Odyssey not hold the author’s attention? (Nor the Iliad, the Aeneid, or Metamorphosis? Really?) And then why is the third dream “drawn from the realm of pure fairy tale”? Like, were you out of pantheons? Horus didn’t return your calls? Or be more specific—why not German fairy tales, or Danish, or French Court, or Elizabethan? It feels like a class project where one group was on point, one group got the assignment a little wrong, and one didn’t even try.

Again, it’s not even that this adventure is bad—I honestly can’t tell if it is or not; I’m sure a lot of its success is determined at the table. And I could totally see throwing this at a party if I was out of inspiration that week or we needed a low-stakes breather before our next big arc. But the instant I think about it for more than a second, it all falls apart for me.

Have any of you tried this one? Let me know what you thought. And for a similar exploration into dream logic/fairy tale scenarios, I recommend Crystal Frasier’s The Harrowing for Pathfinder.

“In The Dwarven King’s Court” by Willie Walsh, AD&D, Levels 3–5

Willie Walsh is a name we’re going to see a lot more in issues to come—he’s a legendarily prolific Dungeon contributor, delivering quality, typically low-level, and often light-hearted or humorous adventurers issue after issue after issue. His first entry is a mystery with a time limit: A dwarf king is supposed to make a gift of a ceremonial sword to seal a treaty, but the sword has vanished. Brought to the king’s court courtesy of a dream, adventurers must find the sword and the surprising identity of the culprit before the rival power’s delegation arrives.

At first I was going to ding this adventure for its “What, even more dreams this issue?” hook...but here’s the thing with Walsh—never judge his modules until you reach the final page. Nearly every time I’m tempted to dismiss one of his sillier or more random adventure elements, it turns out that it makes sense and works just fine. In this case, the cause of the dream is haunt connected to the mystery, and I feel dumb for being all judgy.

So anyway, the PCs are given leave to search for the stolen object and the thief, but of course it turns out there is a whole lot of light-fingeredness going around. As Bryce (see below) puts it, “It’s like a Poirot mystery: everyone has something to hide.” This castle has as much upstairs-downstairs drama as any British farce, with nearly every NPC having either a fun personality and/or a fun secret (and with the major players illustrated by some equally fun portraits) that should make them memorable friends and foils for PCs to interact with. Not to mention the actual culprit is definitely a twist that will be hard explaining to the king...

GMs should be ready to adjust on the fly, though—a) it’s a lot of characters to juggle, and b) since the PCs are 3rd–5th level, the right spells or some lucky secret door searches could prematurely end the adventure as written. You may want to have some last-minute showdowns, betrayals, or other political intrigue outlined and in your back pocket if what’s on the page resolves too quickly.

Overall though, I’m a big fan of this adventure, and look forward to the rest of Walsh’s output. Also, given the dwarven focus and the geography of the land, this adventure could be a very nice sequel to last issue’s “Assault on Eddistone Point.”

“Caermor” by Nigel D. Findley, AD&D, Levels 2–4

Look at this author’s list of writing credits! Findley was amazingly prolific, and his work was pretty high-quality across the board, as far as I know. I particularly loved the original Draconomicon, one of the first and only 2e AD&D books I ever bought as a kid. I also loved his “Ecology of the Gibbering Mouther” from the excellent Dragon #160, and some of his Spelljammer supplements are currently sitting upstairs in my to-read pile, recently purchased but as yet shamefully untouched.

Now look at his age at the time of his death. Life is not always fair or kind.

(Speaking of unkind, man is the bio in this issue unfortunate in retrospect: “[H]e write for DRAGON® Magazine, enjoys windsurfing, plays in a jazz band, and manages a computer software company in the little time he has left.” As Archer would say, “Phrasing!”)

Anyway, this adventure is simple: An otherworldly force has been murdering the locals. The locals have pinned the blame on a handsome bard from out of town, and their own prejudices and general obstinacy are sure to get in the way of the investigation—that is, if the true culprits, some devil-worshipping culprits and and an abishai devil, don’t get in the way first.

All in all, this is a tight, well-written adventure, so I don’t have much to say about it, other than that if you like the idea of sending your party to help out some young lovers and save some faux-Scots/Yorkshiremen too stubborn to save themselves (and maybe slip in a valuable lesson about prejudice and xenophobia as well), this is the adventure for you.

One thing that does jump out to a contemporary reader, though, is the comically overpowered nature of the baddie pulling the strings in this adventure: Baalphegor, Princess of Hell (emphasis mine). Overpowered, you-won’t-really-fight-this-NPC happens with a lot of low-level adventures, when the writers want a story more epic than characters at the table can handle or are trying to plot the seeds for future evils. But still, any princess of Hell would already be a bit much...but an 18-Hit Dice, “supra-genius”, the Princess of Hell? Like, what the f—er, I mean, Hell?

If you use the adventure as written, the only way to have Baalphegor’s presence make sense is to eventually reveal that the area is an epicenter of some major badness. (Maybe that explains the lost nation of evil dwarves in the adventure background.) For a good model on how to seed early adventures in this matter, Dungeon’s Age of Worms Adventure Path and Pathfinder Adventure Path’s Rise of the Runelords AP, both from Paizo, are exemplars of small-town disturbances that eventually have world-shaking implications.

It’s also fascinating in retrospect to note Ed Greenwood’s massive impact in the hobby. Any article that appears in Dragon has the sheen of being at least semi-official, but it’s clear that Greenwood’s content was a cut above even that. In this case, an NPC from a three-year-old article of his is not just treated as canon, but also supplies the mastermind behind the adventure! It’s no surprise that in the following year his home campaign, the Forgotten Realms, would soon become AD&D’s newest and then its default setting.

Two final thoughts: 1) There’s some fascinating anti-dwarf prejudice in this article. Nearly every mention of dwarves paints them as exceptionally greedy and/or villains. And 2) how did one even begin to balance adventures in those days? This adventure is for “4–8 characters of 2nd–4th level.” There are a lot of difference at the extreme ends of those power scales…

“The Keep at Koralgesh,” by Robert Giacomozzi & Jonathan Simmons, D&D, Levels 1–3

One of the problems of BECMI D&D being known as “basic D&D” is that writers often assumed the players to be basic (that is, younger/new) as well. Which probably accounts for some of the early suggestions to the DM we get at the beginning of this adventure—like some pretty patronizing advice along the lines of not immediately announcing to PCs what the pluses are on their magical swords.

Fortunately, after that the article settles down and gives us Dungeon’s first real D&D adventure. In fact, not just real, but massive: 20 full pages of content—nearly half the issue! It’s a fully fledged dungeon crawl that has the PCs taking advantage of the summer solstice to open a shrine door that will lead them inside a long-ruined keep said to hold great treasure.

Now, I imagine in the coming installments it’s going to seem to many of you like I’m grading D&D adventures on a curve, because of my love for the system and the Known World/Mystara. That’s a fair accusation, but a better way to consider it is that I’m reviewing D&D adventures for what they are—adventures from a separate system, with a more limited rules system and palette of options than AD&D. You don’t go to a performance of Balinese shadow puppetry and compare it against Andrew Lloyd Webber; you look at it for what it achieves in its own medium. Since they appear side-by-side in the same magazine, comparison is going to be inevitable, but that’s with the understanding that AD&D was the kid coloring with the 64-crayon box of Crayola, while D&D was getting by with just eight.

On its own terms then, “The Keep of Korgalesh” is a decent, if not superlative, success. I love that it’s practically module-length and that we get three complete levels—a far cry from the previous issue’s side-trek-at-best, “The Elven Home.” We also get two new monsters, which absolutely fills my inner BECMI D&D player with glee. And I like that what starts as a dungeon crawl/fetch quest evolves into a “kill the big bad thing” and “find out what really happened to this city.”

There are issues, though. If the whole city was destroyed, getting to see some of it besides the keep would have been nice. Some of the ecology for the dungeon inhabitants is questionable. There pretty much wasn’t a single pool or fountain in this era of D&D adventure design that wasn’t magical, and this adventure was no exception. One of the new monster’s names makes no sense except that “tyranna” and “abyss” are cool words (I mean, I guess you could read that as “tyrant of the depths,” but still…) And there are painfully obvious borrowings from other works, especially Tolkien—a door that only opens at solstice, a lake monster, an orc with a split personality that is clearly a Gollum homage, etc.

What this adventure really needs is stakes—just something to give it a bit more oomph beyond the dungeon crawl. (Finding a blacksmith’s lost hammer is the hook offered in the adventure but it’s pretty flimsy.) Perhaps the PCs are some of Kor’s last worshippers, and clearing out the dangers here and resanctifying his temple is one of their first steps toward returning him to prominence. Maybe the PCs’ grandparents were involved in the city’s demise and restoring Koralgesh will restore the families’ honor. Or you could keep it simple and have a band of pirates or a rival adventuring group also trying to clean out the keep, turning it into a race (with the tyrannabyss causing the scales of fate to wobble at appropriately cinematic moments).

So the final analysis is this is a decent dungeon crawl upon which you can build a good adventure. The real reward of this module isn’t treasure; it’s finding out just what happened to Koralgesh. But for that to matter, it needs to tie into the PCs’ pasts, futures, or both.

BONUS CONTENT FOR KNOWN WORLD/MYSTARA NERDS: Kor is almost certainly a local name for the sun god Ixion. The chaotic deity Tram is probably a local version of Alphaks, though Atzanteotl is another strong candidate, especially since deceit was key to the pirates’ success. Koralgesh could be located somewhere on the Isle of Dawn, the northern coast of Davania, or an Ierendi/Minrothad Isle that those nations haven’t made it a priority to rebuild.

Best Read: “Caermor.” Nigel D. Findley was a pro.

Best Adventure I Could Actually Run with Minimal Prep: “The Keep at Koralgesh,” as a well-written, straight-ahead dungeon crawl. Every other adventure here relies on a pretty strong handle of very mobile NPCs and their motivations, or a Titan’s dream mechanics.

Best Concept: “The Titan’s Dream,” as noted above. It’s a great idea very worth exploring, even if I wasn’t about the execution we got in this case.

Best Monster: This was actually a monster-light issue. Despite some awesome art for the tyrannabyss, I have to go with the epadrazzil, a scaly ape from a two-dimensional plane of existence that has to be summoned via a painting. All of those details are just so wonderfully and weirdly specific it has to win. (Extra points for anyone who noticed the thoul—a classic D&D monster (though it did make its way into AD&D’s Mystara setting) born from a typo.)

Best NPC: Since this is a role-playing-heavy issue, there are a bunch of contenders, and the final verdict will go to whoever your party sparks to at the table. Obviously King Baradon the Wise should get the nod for [spoiler-y reasons], but I also really like the opportunity the executioner Tarfa offers, thanks to his incriminating goblet and how it might bring the PCs to the attention of a far-off assassin’s guild at just the right level.

Best Map: All together the maps from “The Keep at Koralgesh” form an extremely appealing whole. But for best single map I have to go for the palace of Mount Diadem—that is a bangin’ dwarven demesne.

Best Thing Worth Stealing: Jim Holloway’s illustrations of dwarves. Good dwarf, gnome, and halfling art is hard to find, and even the good stuff often leans stereotypical. While Holloway’s art is often humorous—I have a feeling he and Roger Moore jibed really well, though that’s totally a guess based purely on what assignments he got handed—his dwarves, especially in this issue, are fresh, specific, and unique. You could identify them by their silhouettes alone—always the sign of good character art. If you need an image of a dwarf NPC to show the players, “In the Dwarven King’s Court” is a great first stop.

Worst Aged: Female thong pirates on magazine covers. Also using the actual names of actual mental illnesses in game materials.

What Bryce Thinks: “This seems to be a stronger issue than #1, although half of the adventures are … unusual.”

Bryce actually almost likes “The Titan’s Dream,” confirming my loathing of it. He in turn loathes “In the Court of the Dwarven King.” Like me, though, he is pro-”Caermor” and sees potential in “The Keep at Koralgesh.” (Also credit where it’s due: I might have missed the condescension at the start if he hadn’t called it out.)

So, Is It Worth It?: If you’re a Clyde Caldwell fan, this issue might be worth searching out in print. So much of Caldwell’s work from this era was dictated by product needs, cropped and boxed up in ads, or shrunk down to fit on a paperback cover. So to get this cover in full magazine size, with only the masthead tucked up top to get in the way—that could be well worth a few bucks to you.

Also, if you’re BECMI/Rules Cyclopedia-era D&D fan (or know someone who is), again, this one might be worth having in print. “The Keep at Koralgesh” is a legit, proper BECMI D&D adventure, spanning 20 whole pages and with two new monsters to boot. I would have practically have cried if someone had given 7th-grade me this.

Beyond that you can probably just rely on the PDF. But both “Caermor” and “In the Dwarven King’s Court” have strong bones worth putting some modern muscle and skin on.

Random Thoughts:

The Caldwell cover painting was also used for the Blackmoor module DA4 The Duchy of Ten. PS: I’m not trying to tell you what to do or anything, but if you do happen to run across a physical copy of The Duchy of Ten or and of the DA modules, holla at ya boy over here.

Since this is our second issue, we now have a “Letters” column. Turns out Dungeon had been announced in Dragon #111 with a really detailed set of writer’s guidelines; most of the correspondence is questions re: those. In the process of answering, we get some surprisingly frank talk about payment. The $900 for a cover seemed low until I converted it to 2018 dollars, and ~$2,000 does seem right to my ignorant eye. I then made the mistake of converting my current salary to 1986 dollars and felt a lot worse about myself and what I’ve achieved.

Apologies this took so long to post. I had the issue read by early October and most of this review written with the next week or two after...but then I got involved in dealing with a 4.5 week hospitalization and aftermath...and then a second still-ongoing hospitalization...and even though I only had about four paragraphs left I just couldn’t find time to put a bow on it.

Notable Ads: The gold Immortals Rules box for D&D. (I also still don’t have that one yet, and Christmas is coming. Just saying, guys, if you happen to find one in your attic.) ;-) Also an ad for subscribing to Dungeon itself, starring “my war dinosaur, Boo-Boo.” No, really.

Over in Dragon: Beneath a glorious cover, Roger Moore is the new editor of Dragon #115, three authors (including Vince Garcia, who I like a lot) share credit on a massive six articles about fantasy thieves, a famous article proposing that clerics get the weapons of their deity (people were still talking about it in the “Forum” column when I was buying my first issues two years later), and a look at harps from the Forgotten Realms (notable because behind the scenes Ed Greenwood’s home setting was being developed for the AD&D game for launch in 1987.) A photographic cover and a 3-D sailing ship are served up in Dragon #116, along with maritime adventures, more Ed Greenwood (rogue stones), and articles for ELFQUEST, Marvel Super Heroes (Crossfire’s gang), and FASA’s Dr. Who game (looking at all six(!) doctors). (Incidentally, I had an Irish babysitter around this time who first mentioned Dr. Who to me—I wish I’d explored more but I was too young to understand what I’d been offered.)

PS: Yes, I’ve heard about the upcoming Tumblr ban. It is a terrible idea that will affect way too many of my readers. It shouldn’t affect me much (and I have all my monster entries backed up at the original site), but I will keep you posted as I learn more, particularly if I find you, my readers, packing up and going elsewhere.

#daily bestiary #patch has issues #pathfinder #paizo #3.5 #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #d&d #dnd #ad&d #becmi #dungeon #dungeon magazine

95 notes · View notes

awed-frog · 6 years

Note

About your griffin post, about it being Protoceratops... It's not true. Mark Witton did an in-depth discussion about it.

Yes, about that - as I said in the notes, I’m grateful to the person who posted the link because I’d never heard of any of that, and the more diverse perspectives on stuff, the better. That said, a few things about his rebuttal (and yours):

1. When it comes to religion, mythology and folklore studies, there’s no such thing as ‘true’ and ‘not true’. You can categorize theories with other words, such as ‘likely’, ‘probable’, ‘possible’ and ‘utter troll dung’, but those are not exact sciences, so while it’s possible to follow a rigorous and scientific approach, it’s difficult (or even impossible) to prove anything in a definite way.

2. Adrienne Mayor’s book had an interdisciplinary approach. Mark Witton’s article did not. Now, this is more to Mayor’s credit than to Witton’s demerit, because you’re not going to contact fifteen colleagues for a blog post, but it’s worth noting that the lack of interdisciplinary research is a huge problem in academia, and it’s especially noticeable in ancient history (or maybe I notice it more because it’s my field, I don’t know). Since people tend to be either word-minded or numbers-minded, what you get is a series of extremely well-prepared specialists looking at stuff - while being completely ignorant of 98% of the world they’re examining. An ancient Greek scholar, for instance, will know a lot about linguistic shifts but squat about bread making, and that’s a bad way to understand a whole culture. Mayor, who’s more on the word side of the equation, made an effort to consult with science-oriented colleagues; Witton didn’t do that (although, as I said, that’s perfectly normal for the writing format he was using) and it shows.

3. About his first argument, ie that griffins are found in Near Eastern art: who cares? What you need to do here is not look at how you see the world, but at how a Greek person would see the world. Near Eastern griffins are not relevant - not because they don’t exist (they do) or because they’re not objectively fascinating (they are). They’re not relevant because they’re not mentioned in this context by Greek texts. None of the authors Mayor discusses made a connection between the Central Asia griffins and the Persian griffins. Maybe they didn’t know about the other ones, maybe they saw them as different animals - I honestly don’t know. But if they didn’t draw a connection between the two thing, then neither should we. I know mythology books tend to have categories on ‘monsters’ and offer enthralling images of ‘sirens’, ‘giants’ and ‘demons’ from around the world, but the fact is, how a specific culture understands that monster is likely to differ a lot from what their neighbours think of them. Sphinxes are a good example. There’s the Egyptian sphinx and the Greek sphinx - those are never discussed in the same papers because, despite the fact they do have superficial similarities, they’re very different creatures in what concerns their role in their respective societies’ religious and conceptual landscapes.

4. About his second argument, ie that protoceratops bones are not as widespread as she suggests, and one wouldn’t trip on skulls every two seconds - again, so what? As long as those fossils can be placed in that area at the right time, I’m good. This is not a scientific experiment the Scythians are carrying out: one skull is enough to suggest a story behind it, one trader sharing that story in his travels is enough to make it grow, and one bartender telling Herodotus about it is enough to validate it. The Amazons are a very good example of how that works. The idea of a tribe of women warriors had fascinated the Greek for centuries (they’re mentioned in the Iliad) before Herodotus wrote about them confirming they were real people doing real stuff. Western scholars have been scoffing at him ever since - and they kept scoffing until Soviet archaeologists started finding graves of women who’d been buried with weapons. Now - did archaeologists ever find a cemetery that was 100% badass female warriors? No. Did they find a cemetery that was 50% female warriors? Also no. To the best of our current knowledge, some of those Siberian-based tribes had - occasionally - warrior queens, or high-status women who used weapons. They were not Amazons in the traditional sense of the word, but it’s not that hard to imagine what must have happened there: one foreign delegation headed by an armed queen would have been enough to make any Greek go wtf and ooooohh, because that would have been so exotic - Greek women didn’t use weapons (and neither did Persian women, or Egyptian women - cultures some Greeks would have been familiar with) - so the sight of that must have left quite a deep mark. And since that’s how humans work, one warrior queen can become ‘a whole race of man-hating badass women’ in two seconds flat. I mean, we know that’s how storytelling works, and what happens with dubious or spotty record keeping, but also - how many times has that happened to you? You meet one Korean guy, he’s the only Korean you know and he’s an asshole - before you know it, you start to assume that’s what all Koreans are like. It’s just how we’re wired, and I guess it was supposed to be about protecting us from poisonous plants (‘Sure, that other red berry almost killed my brother, but what about this one?’ - that would have seen us extinct in no time), but it’s also something we need to keep in check, because no - people are not ‘all the same’ just because they belong to the same ‘tribe’.

5. Another argument he makes is that Central Asia to Greece is rather a long distance for Chinese whispers and legend swapping, and that’s so wrong I don’t even know what to say. This is exactly what I meant when I said people can be experts in their field (in Witton’s case, paleontology) while being pretty ignorant about others, because the ancient world was way more connected than what we imagine it to be. We know that even in prehistoric times, there were crowded trade routes moving from the Baltics to Greece, that people travelled hundreds of miles to go to some sanctuary on a Scottish island, and that yeah - ideas and legends did travel with goods, sometimes in a very lasting way. The traces of Buddhist doctrine, for instance, are all over Greek philosophy. This is a subject that’s only recently been explored because people like to believe Greek culture was born fully-formed without any foreign influences, but the studies on the exchanges between India and Greece - well before Alexander’s times - are fascinating. So no, I’m not disturbed in the slightest by the fact news about ‘griffin skulls’ seem to have travelled from the Gobi to Athens. That stuff happened, and as I mentioned above, all you need is one person - one guy who’s well-spoken enough, convincing enough, or convinced enough - one guy who doesn’t want Greek traders anywhere near his gold-stuffed mountains - talking to a second person. Today we’ve only got about 10% of Greek literature, but Greeks were an inquisitive bunch, and the country was littered with self-styled historians, geographers and anthropologists who spent their time either traveling around or paying drinks to whomever seemed foreign enough to be interesting. That method has limits, by the way - I myself once invented a fair bit of my town’s history because I was sixteen and bored and those tourists had seen me with my Latin textbook and asked me if I knew anything about Roman settlements in the area, so. I mean - half of a Greek historian’s paragraph start with ‘A man in Samos told me’ - God knows who they were even talking to. A local priest keen to increase tourism, the village idiot - anything’s possible.

6. Finally, something else that’s just uh is how Witton says, why single out griffins? What about other monsters? And, well, that’s the whole point of Mayor’s book. We know for sure ancient people found fossils; what we’re trying to figure out is what impact (if any) that had on their worldview. For instance, fossils did not suggest the idea of evolution, but they did mess with (or confirm) some of their religious beliefs. I’m hoping to summarize other chapters of Mayor’s book in more detail, but just a couple of examples: the Greeks, like many other ancient people, believed their ancestors to have been much taller and stronger than themselves -

(This, by the way, it’s another tantalizing way the outside world may - or may not - have influenced thought and belief: did the Greeks believe that because of the monumental architecture older cultures had left behind, or did those staggering things confirm an idea that had sprung from a different source? Like, humans tend to be pessimistic mofos, so it’s plenty possible you’d assume people are becoming smaller and weaker just because, and next the finding of a Daedalic temple just confirms that for you, because how the hell could anyone built that and Jesus Christ? Or maybe you find that temple first, and adjust your theology accordingly. We just don’t know. Hell - we’re struggling to explain contemporary religious phenomena - everything and anything from ISIS to spontaneous lynchings in India to cults - we have zero chance of fully understanding Greek religion in a way that allows us to say, ‘that’s right’ or ‘that’s wrong’.)

- and they also believed in monstrous giants dying in riverbeds (many Greek rivers are named after giants). Both things are probably related to the giant-ass femurs which kept cropping up in fields and - well - riverbeds, so no - griffins are not the lone exception. We know of people finding stuff they assume to be giant bones, divine cattle, cyclops - if you can think of it, there’s probably a fossil for it.

Ultimately, I just want to say: Mayor does offer some rather sweeping statements, but, then again, her book is aimed at a general audience. Too many conditionals and no one’s buying it (or understanding it). On the other hand, she also never pretends to hold any Universal Truth over the subject she’s exploring, because that’s how (good) academia works: you expect (and encourage) rebuttals, corrections, discussions. That’s how we progress.

Personally, what attracts me to these theories is that they’re part of a movement that’s arising - bloody finally - acknowledging man is not the centre of the known and unknown universe.

Until very recently, we were told the physical world has zero influence on what we think and how we feel - because we’re a superior animal, that is, so that stuff doesn’t touch us in the same way it does other (lower) beasts. And while that is true to an extent - if there’s an inconvenient river, we move it - saying that the world around us has no impact on our souls, brains and way of life - that’s just laughably pretentious. We now know something as banal as the weather can completely transform our mood and our decision-making, even on the long term - that trees make us smarter, that urban landscapes are likely to give migraines - there are studies in experimental archaeology in how landscape influences thought (like, you bury someone in a fetal position because the ground is too hard, you make yourself feel better by imagining he’s like a baby in the mother’s womb and will one day be reborn), and a lot of new ideas about folklore and religion. This line of studies on fossils is one example of that; another is how geography impacts theology - I don’t remember who it was, but I know someone suggested the reason human sacrifice is more common in tropical cultures is because in a jungle, death will immediately (and very visibly) feed new life, whereas in colder climates the relation is not that apparent. And again, it may never be possible to prove right and wrong there. Even if we had a time machine, these things are tricky to understand. People think of faith and belief in different ways, approach their religion through their own filter, will pretend to go along with stuff for personal gain. Who knows. The only thing we can be sure of is that those fossils would have been understood differently by different people. To some, that would have been proof of mythical monsters. To others, a way to strengthen their flock’s faith and thus cement social cohesion. And to others still, it was probably just a way to make money - a temple displaying a ‘griffin skull’ would have led to people selling griffin statues and opening griffin-themed restaurants, same as you see today in places like Lourdes or Fatima. Humans are messy. History is messy. That’s what’s beautiful (and infuriating) about both.

#ask #griffins #mythology #greek mythology #religion #mark witton #sorry i'm not including links #i'm late for a job #gaaaaaah #i hope this made sense?#but i'm open to discuss this of course #witton's perspective was genuinely interesting

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sawthefaeriequeen · 5 years

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Top Ten Books Read In 2018

1) The Last Summer of the Death Warriors by Francisco X. Stork

I picked this up at a book fair, read the summary, and figured I'd surprise myself with this author I'd never heard of before. It's about the friendship between DQ, a guy with terminal cancer dealing with his complicated feelings for his estranged-but-conciliatory family, and Pancho, a guy who's biding his time until he can get revenge on the person who's killed one of his family members. I like that both boys are raw and real and people—Pancho obviously has messed up emotions, but DQ can be plenty bitter and angry too: he's not an Inspirational Cancer Patient stereotype.

2) The Sherwood Ring by Elizabeth Marie Pope

Girl moves into her uncle's old ancestral house sometime during the 18th century and gets immersed into the past lives and loves of the ghosts that thrived there during the days of the Revolutionary War, their paths often crossing each other's. I swear I have never seen more delightful ghost characters in my entire life.

3) The Unbound by V.E. Schwab

So by the time I'd picked this up, I was having mixed feelings about V.E. Schwab – on one hand, she'd always written worlds that engage me almost instantly with their creativity. On the other hand, I'd just recently been horribly disappointed by the ending to what's been her most popular series so far: I thought her final Shades of Magic book did a most spectacular job on dropping the balls on everything good about it. Up to reading it, I'd thought the author's hype was deserved. But after, well…

So when I picked this up, it was with much trepidation. I'd loved the previous book, The Archived: the big old house setting, the grim closed-off girl/sweet sunny boy dynamic the lonesome warrior setup, all were like catnip to my id. I didn't want it ruined by a bad sequel. Fortunately, this book took everything I loved about the book and turned it up to eleven. It upped the stakes, it intensified the relationships, and it also added a mental illness angle that I personally found very meaningful.

The author is still kiiinda on notice so I'm not sure I want a third book. If there is one, dear God, please be good. *crosses fingers*

4) Turtles All The Way Down by John Green

I remember thinking, as I was reading this: this is really, really working for me but will it work for someone neurotypical? 2018 was hell and I was just so desperate for the people in my life to get it, and so I kept hopping on trains of thought like this.

Anyway, this book was spot on in what goes on in the wirings of my anxious brain. Green's usual turns of phrase took an incredibly frenetic turn at times, which, I know, is exactly what it's like to have a mental illness. This is not a book about "this is what to do" it's about how it IS or how it can GET.

I'm still really grateful for that quote about the spiral – how it tightens, but also how it eternally widens. When I first saw the cover, I thought it was kind of blah; now I look at that spiral and see something different. I see the hope of creating a new 'normal'.

5) The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

This was so readable it surprised me. I thought I'd go slow on it because: war story where it's a foregone conclusion that it ends tragically for the leads? Yeah, I'm not in a rush to reach the end of that. But I blazed right through this book. There's something really addictive about Madeline Miller's storytelling and how she brings her characters together and follows their blossomings and downfalls through the years. And then, the course of the Iliad and the inevitable sadness for Achilles, Patroclus, and Briseis was more like the slow turning of the tide rather than getting hit with a tidal wave. Anyway, not only was it readable but I'm finding myself eager to re-read it.

6 ) The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

Part of my Read Everything Robin McKinley Writes mission that began last year. I'd liked the sheer escapism and the desert setting in The Blue Sword, but that whole white savior thing kinda put me off from enjoying Harry and the book more fully than I would've liked.

It was not so for this book, thankfully! Who knew that reading about the nitty-gritty of slaying big scaly beasts could be so satisfying? That's classic Robin McKinley, as I'm learning – you love what the protag loves. And then I really dug how the dead dragon's ghost haunting Aerin acts as a metaphor for mental illness.

(As I continue to wrestle with my diagnosis, I continually appreciate all the depression/anxiety metaphors I encounter in media. Maybe one day I'll make a post about it) AND ALSO: a love triangle that's actually well done and that serves our heroine's identity and character rather than taking away from it? Yes. Yes, thank you.

7) A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb

Yeah so, this book killed me. It's about two twenty-something ghosts with unfinished business who find themselves in the bodies of two teenagers whose souls appear to have completely vacated theirs. They find themselves falling for each other and trying to find out what happened to their 'hosts' and what went on in their past lives. They also find themselves battling to survive the hostile home lives that their 'hosts' left behind. It's all very beautiful and kind of twisted and also a love letter to words and probably my most unexpected book of the year. And I have NO idea to rec it to people. "Read this, it's kind of fucked up but gorgeous but also can get triggery so step warily?" Uh.

8) Deerskin by Robin McKinley

See warnings above. Oh God. But really, I totally respect Robin McKinley for going full-out faithful to how utterly fucked up fairy tales can be while still creating a survival story. I'm not just talking about Lissar surviving spoilers incestual rape and miscarriage (indeed, I'm not qualified to talk about it) but how hers is a story of healing: by surviving the elements, by nursing living things back into life, by building herself up into a legend without even knowing it.

9) Muse of Nightmares by Laini Taylor

Just an incredibly satisfying ending to a duology that at the same time echoes that quote from Michael Ende's The Neverending Story: "but that is another story and shall be told another time." I love when something ends with that sense of: "there are even more stories and adventures for our beloved characters out there than you can possibly fathom, and you are now free to make up them yourself."

10) Autoboyography by Christina Lauren

I was intrigued by the premise: a half-Jewish guy and a Mormon guy fall for each other over the course of a writing class. And upon starting it, I could tell straight (heh, straight) away that it was going to be a favorite. It's an unabashedly kilig romance about falling for the wonderfulness in each other,and both mains are fucking adorable, and made me want to give them both a ton of hugs. Oh, and this book further reinforced my belief that the key to first-person writing is having a good voice.

Another thing is, I basically never see YA books that deal with growing up in a religion and actually-loving it and having it be an inextricable part of your identity… and then having to deal with the darker, prejudiced sides that you really wish would be excised from it altogether especially if they are opposed to who you are. To deal with it sensitively and touchingly, not only in a YA book but in an m/m romance? Well done.

honorable mention!

-The Secret History by Donna Tartt

I was reading this on the bus on the way home to the province for Christmas and I could not stop laughing and I had no idea to explain to my very curious sister that it was because half the protagonists were high as a kite at the funeral of the friend that they all killed and one of them had just very noisily killed a bee in the church vestibule and it made the loudest sound on the planet and they're all gonna have to ~aesthetically grieve and pallbear now even though THEY killed their friend and w o w it's like Nuwanda from Dead Poets Society was cloned five times.

Sometimes "pretentious people murder someone and somehow it is hilarious" is just exactly my cup of tea.

and a couple of series binges!

Almost 10 years ago (god, what the hell), I had a "YA Paranormal Romances I Might Actually Like" list, and the two trilogies below were on it. There's something gratifying about finally crossing off books on your TBR that have been there for ages:

-The Shade Trilogy by Jeri Smith-Ready (Shade, Shift, Shine) This series came out on the tail of the Great YA Paranormal Romance boom and I really wish I'd picked it up then (I also really wish some of the covers it got weren't so damn off-putting. It's like Animorphs all over again) because it's such cut above so many of the books that were being churned out in those days.

The premise is: what if there was a global paranormal event that left the portion of the population born after a certain year with the ability to see ghosts? I really like that the author thought this out thoroughly – it's not just a oooh spooky ghosties gimmick. Everything is affected: the educational system, the police force, politics, technology, travel, you name it.

The heroine was smart and truth-seeking and had nuancedrelationships with lots of female characters (bff, mentor, aunt who raised her, mom who died… ), the Betty love interest was a total sweetheart who also didn't seem too good to be true and who was capable of making major teenage fuck-ups, and the Veronica love interest was a rock-and-roll ghost who had the post-life character arc that I sadly wish Maggie Stiefvater had given Noah Czerny. I kind of loved them all a lot and one of the reasons I wish I'd read these books as they came out was so I could've been un-jaded just a little bit about Those Pesky Love Triangles.

(Someday I…really ought to make an analysis about why I dislike love triangles in general and what exactly was up with the ones that DID work for me.)

-Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater

I read the whole series toward the year's end. It was precisely the cold-weather binge I was craving. I may have my quarrels with some of her writing decision, but really few people can do atmospheric, poetic writing the way Maggie Stiefvater does. The romances were a bit too YA for me in this one, but I ended up really sympathizing with every single POV character anyway. And I mean, cold and poetry and family and books and wolves-as-family*.

(*One day, I'll have the emotional armor to watch Wolf's Rain again. )

#personal #text post #cross posted #the written word

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shitsuji-hcs · 6 years

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41, 22, 14, 12 and 9 for Cheslock, Violet and Edward. Thanks

9. MAKEUP?

Cheslock

He doesn’t really remember when he started wearing makeup. Really, he felt that lip stuff was way too gaudy for him - it suits Violet quite well, but it really isn’t his scene. He also wears makeup over the scar under his left eye, dramatising it into his iconic look so it’s less visible.

Violet

Rather than being told to grow out of it, Violet was left to his own devices when his mother simply accepted that the makeup covered up how tired her son looked. At least she was there to steer him away from whatever poisonous materials he thought would be alright to apply to his eyes… but he still continues experimenting nonetheless.

Edward

There is no way in the seven hells that you’d ever catch him wearing makeup of his own will. He has to be forced to sit down by either Elizabeth, who wants to test something, or Cheslock, who probably forced him into it with a bet. There is… a certain fear when applying coal dust and vaseline to one’s eyes for mascara. During his Phantom Five concerts, the sultry half-lidded look that he gives fans is only the look of “I have something stuck in my eye, please help me.”

12. FAVORITE BOOK GENRE?

Cheslock

He reads a lot more than one would think. Cheslock’s a big fan of the gothic genre, with copies of Carmilla, Frankenstein and Jekyll and Hyde up on his shelf. He doesn’t really get much time to read, but when he does, he rereads all of this stuff.

Violet

He still remains a lover of the epics. Not just the English traditional Paradise Lost or The Fairie Queene. Violet actually enjoyed studying the Odyssey and the Iliad, even if they were school set texts. There’s just something so interesting in exploring a distant past that actually has him reading stories that others would find tedious.

Edward

He doesn’t read. Well, at least, he doesn’t read as often as he wants to. However, his favourite genre would probably be the ‘social-purpose’ novels. The ones that bring to light the injustices of society. Edward reads them because he knows his disposition as an affluent man and wants to learn more about others.

14. PHYSICAL ABNORMALITIES? (BOTH VISIBLE AND NOT, INCLUDING INJURIES/DISABILITIES, LONG-TERM ILLNESSES, FOOD-INTOLERANCES, ETC.)

Cheslock

The scar that runs over his left eye was something from childhood, a particularly bad scuffle with his father. The two don’t exactly have the best of relationships.

Violet

The white forelock in Gregory’s hair is natural. As a child, his parents were worried that this, coupled with his ‘quiet temperament’, was a sign of him being afflicted with some sort of genetic defect. Growing up, it was later realised it wasn’t anything detrimental to his actual health.

Edward

Edward has already been written for HERE

22. GIVEN A BLANK PIECE OF PAPER, A PENCIL, AND NOTHING TO DO, WHAT WOULD HAPPEN?

Cheslock

He wants to make something good. Cheslock isn’t the best of artists, but he still knows what’s good and what’s bad. He gives up half way on drawing people and ends up drawing dicks all over the page.

Violet

Of course he’s going to draw something really elaborate. Violet isn’t one to draw whatever’s in the room, but something straight from his imagination. He could draw up amazing scenery or detailed flora from memory without a problem - and remembering is a skill in itself - but that’s only if he has the drive to actually do it.

Edward

Edward is a horrendous artist. That doesn’t stop him from trying to draw something. He tries to draw portraits of whoever is around, but… his work could probably be considered insulting.

41. HOW MISANTHROPIC ARE THEY?

Cheslock

He doesn’t detest society, but he does have some grievances with how class seems to define people. Cheslock just does whatever he wants, without mind of people. It’s not exactly something extreme. He just minds his own business.

Violet

It isn’t as if he hates people, but… he’d just rather avoid them. Violet loathes wild parties and gossip, knowing just how out of hand one can get when inebriated. The only people he willingly hands around with are kids, because he finds them pretty easy to entertain.

Edward

There is no way that Edward could say that he hates people. Sure, he does have some problems with how unequal society is, but he doesn’t see humanity as inherently evil. People have just “lost their way”, as he says.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #edward midford #cheslock #gregory violet #tigersniper hc meme

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littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years

Text

Red Rose - Chapter 10

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 CH. 10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16

Summary: Charlotte and Drake meet again after eight years, as the event makes them remember someone thought to be long forgotten. Maxwell and Riley go to a bad neighborhood and get into some trouble, but also meet new friends.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Notes: Hey, peeps! Missed me much? Well, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Also, it will be an emotional week for some of our LIs. Maybe.

Oh, by the way, if you happen not to be able to read this text for there are some weird signs amidst text, do not fret! Just click on ‘Read More’. It should be perfectly legible at the blog.

Vienna, Spring 2006

“I was beginning to believe you were murdered.” Linda Rosa smiled at him, teasingly.

Drake grumbled. “Told ya I was busy this week.”

“Yes, you told me, but that don’t keep me from missing you, does it?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He turned his face to her. “I missed you, too.”

They kissed, trying to dispel the week of absence.

When they broke apart, Linda Rosa asks: “Which reminds me, you never told me what you have been doing these last few days.”

“A friend of mine was in town. I was with him.” Drake told her while she sat at his lap.

She pursed her lips, though. “And I couldn’t have met him?”

“No,” He said, in all seriousness. “I prefer keeping you all to myself.” He kissed her frowning lips.

Sha gave a soft laugh. “Okay, okay, I get your point. Anyways, I have great news for you!”

He grumbled, motioning for her to continue.

“Do you have any plans for the Summer?” She asked, expectantly.

“Nope.” He said.

“Well, now you do!” She said, handing him an envelope. “We’re going on a road trip!”

“What?” He opened the envelope. Inside there were two Eurail passes.

“I sold some paintings this week, Drake!” She celebrated. “With the money I bought these. We’ll be going to Italy, Croatia, Serbia, Greece, Turkey. And the best part is: I booked a Cordonian leg! I’ll get to meet your sister!”

He turned pale at the mention of his homeland.

“No!” It escaped from him before he could control his mouth.

Linda Rosa’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I don’t think we should go on this trip.” Drake said, resolute.

“Why?” She asked, confused.

He controlled himself not to stumble on his words. “You shouldn’t be wasting your money like that, Linda Rosa!”

She scoffed. “To want to spend time with my boyfriend is hardly a waste. Besides, these tickets are promotional, personal and non-refundable. If we don’t go, we’ll lose them.”

“Well, you should have consulted with me!” He outcries.

“That would be hardly a surprise, would it not?!” She barked. “Besides, you were busy getting chummy with your friend, I couldn’t reach you even if I tried.”

“You should still ask me before you do something like that! What if I was busy?!” He argued.

“But you said so yourself you aren’t!” She screamed, but then sighed. “Drake, the problem is us going to Cordonia, isn’t it?”

He coughed. “Of course it isn’t!”

“Good Lord, Drake! You should at least lie better! You’re a lawyer, for God’s sake!”

“Rosa, please, I…”

She cut him off. “Look, Drake, I don’t know why you’re reluctant for me meeting your family, but we’ve been dating for half a year. Besides, I love you. I want to be with you. But I have the feeling you’re embarrassed of me. I want to meet your family, where you came from. So I’d like for you to consider it.”

She took her bag and left Drake alone at the park.

He felt like a screw-up.

Orikum Marina, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

“Charlotte?” Riley approached. “What are you doing here?”

She did not answer, just stood up and hugged the black-haired woman, crying on her shoulder.

“Oh, Lord, Charlotte, what on Earth has happened?”

She just sobbed harder.

“You’re worrying me, Charlotte.” Riley stroked the other woman’s back. “What is it? Is it Federigo?”

She hiccupped. “No, it’s not him.”

“Karen? Ludwig?” She offered.

Charlotte snickered through her tears. “It’s weird hearing them being called like that.”

“It is their names, isn’t it?” Riley elbowed, teasingly.

“I guess they are used to being called Their Honors or Mother and Father.”

“Or wife and husband.” The black-haired mocked, using voices.

Charlotte laughed, despite herself. “I miss them, sometimes.”

“I do too, sometimes. Despite everything.” Riley smiled, melancholic. “What happened, Charlotte? Why are you crying so much? I’m worried for you.”

“I…” She started saying but stopped. Finally, she continued: “It’s nothing, I just saw you sailing, and I… I remembered something, something foolish and I started crying.”

“But, Charlotte, how foolish can it be? You were crying!”

Charlotte motioned to respond, but they were cut off by a voice.

“Riley?”

“Hana!” The black-haired responded.

“What are you doing here?” She looked at the blonde woman, in confusion.

“I am sorry, miss.” Charlotte said, rapidly picking up the cue. “I seem to have caused you trouble. Thank you for helping me, but I’ll excuse myself now.”

“No, not at all!” Riley denied. “Do you need any further assistance, miss?”

“No, but I thank you. Excuse me.” She left.

Hana came closer. “Riley, do you know who she is?!”

She made a confused face. “No, she was just crying over there, and I tried calming her down. I never got her name.”

“She’s Duchess Charlotte Amelie Torelli of Guastalla!” Hana exclaimed. “Her family is one of the wealthiest in Europe!”

“Oh, no! I had no idea!” Riley lied through her teeth. “Oh, what if I offended her somehow?!”

The notion almost drove a smile to her lips. Her, caring about whether Charlotte’s feelings were hurt. Oh, what would her 2009-self say?

“I’m sure she has nothing but good things to say about you, Riley.” Hana dismissed. “Who else would attend to a crying woman in the middle of a busy event like that? She’s probably very grateful.”

Riley smiled, in pretend-shyness. “When you put it like that…” She took a breath and continued: “Were you looking for me, Hana?”

“Yes, actually.” She looked crestfallen. “My parents said I was supposed to host a viewing party at my boat this morning, but they overestimated my popularity. Olivia’s really got her hooks in the ladies here. My parents invited dozens of nobles, but no-one accepted.”

“That’s regrettable to hear.” Riley said, in a compassionate note.

“It’s okay, I have lots of champagne, appetizers and a viewing deck, all for myself.” She took a breath and then kept speaking, in a shyer tone. “I was thinking if you wouldn’t like to accompany me?”

Riley smiled wolfishly at her. “And ditch Olivia’s party? Hell yeah!”

Hana got very excited with her response. “Then I’m glad to come to your rescue. Please, follow me.”

They returned to the gate area and boarded Hana’s yacht. Riley noticed it was much more luxurious than the Beaumont’s. The deck seemed more spacious and the wood of the decoration was better-kept. At the deck, there were decadent strawberries and champagne set out next to cushioned seats and silken pillows.

Hana mock-bowed. “Welcome to my humble yacht.”

Riley lifted her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t use that adjective.”

“It’s a public appearance and my family wants to look good in front of the Royal Family.” Hana dismissed. “They think it’s of the utmost importance that I impress everyone here, no matter how extravagant the display is.”

“I’m sure you succeed.” Riley said. “I’m no connoisseur, but I am pretty sure this bottle of champagne is worth a week’s wage.”

“Well, what is mine is yours.” Hana invited, excitedly. “Please enjoy whatever you want.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

They each picked up a flute and cheered.

Looking around, Riley could see a dozen waiters and several crates of champagne. “This is actually a lot of booze, even for a party.” She commented, mildly impressed.

“Well, the ship is new and hasn’t been named yet. Naming it would’ve been cause for a celebration.” Hana said. “But since you’re here, I’m hoping you’ll help me christen it.”

“You want my help?” Riley said, somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah! It’ll be fun!”

“O-kay, then.” The black-haired said and thought for a while. “Electra, perhaps?”

“After the Iliad?” Hana asked. “Isn’t it a little… tragic?”

“Well, yeah, but despite everything, Electra was a fierce, determined woman, I think it’s a good omen.” Riley said. “Besides, it’s a dope name for a boat, don’t you think?”

Hana thought for a second. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. Electra, it is! Now, we must officially christen her.”

Riley picked up an unopened champagne bottle and said: “Let’s do it together.”

“Alright. We both named it, after all.”

Each girl placed a hand on the bottle, near the spout. After a count of three, they smashed the glass against the railing of the boat. The foamy beverage ran down the hull.

“And with that, we christen you Electra.” Riley smiled.

“Oh, look!” Hana pointed to the water. “The races are about to start! The boats are taking their positions.”

In the distance, boats gather at the starting line, their colored sails dotting the horizon.

“Which boat do you think it’ll win?” Hana asked.

“Dunno, but I’ll bet on the star-spangled one just for the Hell of it.”

Hana elbowed Riley teasingly. “Feeling the call of homeland?”

“It’s more because I know next to nothing about sailing, and that one jumped to my eye, but sure, let’s go with yours.”

The Asian laughed but was soon muffled by the starting pistol shot. “There they go!” She says.

“How far out they go?” Riley wondered.

“Around the bay.” Hana provided. “We won’t see them for a couple of hours. It’s a long race.” Her smile turned devilish. “In the meantime, want to take the boat out for a ride?”

“Oh, Lord, please!”

Hana gives an order to the crew and soon enough they were lounging with champagne flutes on their hands and the sea breeze on their hairs.

“The view up here is amazing!” Riley commented.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Hana said, earnestly. “Riley… thank you for coming to my party.”

“Oh, no. Thank YOU. I’m having a blast.”

Hana smiled self-consciously. “Oh, please, you’re the one who’s making this a party. Otherwise, it would be just me crying into the champagne.”

“Banish the thought!” She mocked.

Soon enough, the first of the returning sailboats appear.

“Here comes the ships!” Riley pointed to the tiny dot on the distance.

“Let’s head back to the marina to see the winner.”

As it turns out, Riley was wrong on her guess. “Darn it! I was so sure I’d win!” She jokingly said. “Look at those smiles.” She pointed to the winning crew, receiving the honors from the Royal Family.

“They look so happy.” Hana commented. “It’s just… my whole life I’ve done nothing but lose.”

“I find it hard to believe, Hana. You’re good in everything you do.”

“Nothing that really counts.” She grumbled. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my family’s respect. They think I’m a complete failure.”

“Then screw them. You don’t need other people’s approval, the only person you have to please is yourself.” Riley dismissed, between champagne gulps. “Don’t live other people’s lives, you don’t get time off from being you.”

“There’s wisdom in that…” Hana conceded, begrudgingly. “But I wouldn’t mind some praise from people close to me.”

Riley looked at the crates of champagne and said: “You know, we could have our own victory celebration.”

“What for?”

“Do you have anything better to do right now? Let’s celebrate life, celebrate celebrations. Sometimes you just gotta celebrate!”

Riley picked up a bottle, shook it and opened with a pop, splashing Hana with the liquid.

“And the winner of the Formula 1 Grand Prix is… HANA LEE!”

The tanned-skin woman screamed in surprise, but soon jumped away from the beverage, laughing.

“That was a sneaking attack!” The woman protested.

“What about it?” Riley smiled, wickedly.

Hana grabbed a bottle, shakes it, then returns fire. “Gotcha!”

They run around the deck until the last of the bottles runs dry.

“I cannot believe the Regatta is already over!” Hana sat down, exhausted, though happily. “I was really dreading today… but thanks to you, it was more fun than I ever expected!”

“You won’t be hearing any complaints from me.” Riley said, kindly. “I had a lot of fun too.”

“Good.” The other smiled.

The boat moored on the docks, and the girls got off it. They walked to the Royal Box, where the other girls were gathering.

“Now the real party begins!” Hana excitedly said.

“I figure!” Riley responded. “Maxwell told me how excited he is for the beach party.”

“It’s not just a party, it is an extravaganza!” Olivia meddled.

Riley raised an eyebrow. “The difference is?”

Olivia narrowed her eyes but did not say a word. Penelope, however, sighed dreamily. “I am happy that this party means more time with the Prince!”

The black-haired just rolled her eyes and walked a little ways off the girl crowd, Hana in tow. Soon enough, Maxwell appears out of nowhere.

“Are you ready for the BEACH EXTRAVAGANZA?!” He asked, excitedly.

“As long as I don’t have to accomplish some absurd task, like become a firebreather or save a village from a tsunami, I am, thank you for asking.” Riley responded.

Maxwell hugged her shoulders. “Don’t worry! It’ll be just a fun party in the most gorgeous beach in the country. Even better, it’s on Sason Island, a secluded Navy base, so there will be no chance of being anyone else there.”

“Thank goodness for that!” Riley cheered.

Hana seemed glad too. “That sounds amazing! The water’s so unbelievably beautiful. I cannot wait to get out of this dress and into my bikini!”

“I knew I was forgetting something.” Maxwell looked at Riley with puppy eyes. “Riley, you didn’t happen to bring a swimsuit, did you?”

She raised an unamused eyebrow at him. “No, I didn’t.”

“We can buy one at the village?” He offered.

“Fine, let’s go.” Riley picked up her purse from Maxwell’s offering hands. “Hana, we’ll probably meet you there.”

“Okay!” She chirped. “See you!”

Vienna, Spring 2006

“You’re an idiot.” The voice resounded over the phone.

“Savannah, you’re my sister. You were supposed to take my side.” Drake said, not betraying his own opinion that yes, he was an idiot.

“I would, but you are an idiot.” She responded, in a definite tone. “Drake, there’s nothing in Cordonia to be ashamed of.”

He sighed. “I’m not ashamed of anything, Savannah.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, too.” She used a knowing voice.

He done a double take.

She then continued. “Rosa loves you. Just because she’s coming to Cordonia, it doesn’t mean she’ll fall madly in love with Liam or Leo or Bertrand. She said it herself, she loves you, not them. Have a little faith, goodness.”

He sighed. “I know, I know.”

“If you’re struggling with that so much, why not to come to Cordonia and not visit the Royal Palace? I mean, you could stay at a hotel, away from here, and we’d meet for dinner. Two nights, she’ll be happy, I’ll get to meet the girl who made my surly brother a bumbling fool, and there will be no chance she’ll meet Liam.”

Drake reflected for a second. “This is actually a good idea.”

“I know,” She said, smugly. “You have a genius of a sister.”

He smiled. “I do.”

“Besides,” She continued. “The odds are you wouldn’t be able to meet Liam even if you wanted to.”

“Constantine’s still slave-driving him?” Drake scoffed.

“Don’t speak like that!” Savannah chastened. “He’s the King!”

“Whatever you say, Savannah, whatever you say.” He dismissed.

“Why does he even is so keen in training Prince Liam, anyways? Leo’s the heir.” Savannah wondered out loud.

“It’s how Constantine show love, I suppose. Besides, Leo’s incompetent. Someone should take responsibility over the country. Might as well be Liam.”

“I guess we’re getting a little off-topic here.” Savannah said, trying to ignore Drake’s anti-monarchism. “Go call Rosa!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call her. See ya, sis.”

“Bye-bye!” She hung up.

Orikum Marina, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

After leaving Riley and Hana, Charlotte found another bench at the marina to sit down and watch the bay. There was little to do back at her hotel, and she wasn’t ready to go back to Italy just yet.

However, her luck that afternoon was rotten. “Charlotte!” She heard her name being called on a deep voice.

She looked over to the source of the sound. “Oh, God.” She whispered to herself.

“Drake.” She acknowledged. “Long time no see.”

It was Drake Walker. Charlotte didn’t see him for almost ten years, thankfully. And it did not take much to infer both of them did not enjoyed their earlier encounters.

“Cut the crap, Rosenberg.” He sneered. “What are you doing here?”

She scoffed. “When it became your business? I didn’t get the memo.”

“It became my business when you had the idea of coming to Avlona of all places.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “If you absolutely must know, I was enjoying the regatta. I was, until you came up to me.”

“Now it’s over. Leave.” He commanded.

She laughed, ironically. “When did you purchase the marina?”

“People of your lair only bring disgrace, Rosenberg. Just leave.”

“Little Drake’s still sore about Rosie?” Charlotte baby-talked with him, raising to her feet. “That’s on you, you know that.”

“Go to Hell, Charlotte.” He barked.

“Anywhere you are, there’s Hell.” She smirked, deviant.

He fumed but did not say a thing. She came closer to him and placed her hand on his face and stroked his cheek. “You know, I met your new girlfriend. Lovely girl, this Riley.”

He grabbed her hand. “Stay away from her.” He said, menacing.

“Drakie-poo always spoils my fun.” She laughed. “But it seems I’ve overstayed my welcome. See you soon, Walker.”

She picked up her purse and left.

Orikum, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

They walked from the marina gates to a small community in the outskirts of Avlona, composed mainly of old fishermen’s homes and shanty houses.

“I don’t think tourists were supposed to see this part of town.” Riley commented.

“Probably not…” Maxwell grimaced. “But you needn’t worry! I’m here to protect you if anyone tries anything! And I know there’s a boutique near a church here.”

“Not that I really mind, but is it, like, a brand name?” Riley shyly asked. “I know you said it’s an island and there will be no intruders, but Olivia will do her very best to humiliate me, no need to help her on that department.”

“It’s fancy, sure! I won’t steer you wrong.” He soothed her. “There’s this stylist who lives around here and designs beachwear. He says the fishermen’s village give him inspiration.”

“Fishermen?” Riley was confused. “How can they fish with the marina right over there?”

Maxwell turned particularly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I get it.” Riley narrowed her eyes in contempt. “They don’t.”

“Yeah… since they built it back in the 1970’s, this place has really gone under.” He said. “But the old square is still very nice!”

She glared at Maxwell but didn’t say a thing. A short walk later they enter the town’s boutique. The brunet went straight to the bikini rack and picked one up.

“It’s the only one your size.” He handed it to her.

“Let us see that.”

It was a white, one-piece swimsuit. She took off her marine clothing and put it on. Riley was growing nervous, as she used a size enlargement bodice under her clothes and an insole to disguise her measurements, but the swimsuit covered it all. Actually, it indulged her vanity, as it showed her beautiful natural legs and gave a nice, youthful lift to her breasts.

Riley also picked up a cover-up, just to be absolutely sure no-one would see the bodice underneath it.

Dressed up, she got out of the fitting room. “How do I look, Maxwell?”

He blushed and stuttered. “That… looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Oh, by the way, do you have a swimsuit?”

He smiled sheepishly. “No, I forgot.”

“Well, then let’s buy one for you, too.”

“No. I mean… Bertrand would get real mad if we spent money on that.”

“Maxwell, if that’s really the problem, I can buy it for you. I won’t go hungry because of a trunk.”

“No!” He got restless. “I-I couldn’t! I was supposed to buy you stuff, not the other way around…”

“O-kay, then, I won’t pressure you.” She said, somewhat bothered. “Let’s go?”

They paid for their purchase and left the store.

As they were walking through the village, they heard a commotion a few meters ahead. It was a man, leaning against a Greek-license car, harassing two girls on an alley.

Not waiting for Maxwell to keep her from intervening, Riley strutted ahead. “Hey, what is going on!”

The man sneered. “None of your business, girl! Go along and leave.”

She glared at him. “I much disagree. In fact, it seems you were bothering these girls over here.”

Maxwell ran to her. “Riley, please, let’s go.”

“Yeah, obey your man, bitch.” The stranger mocked.

Maxwell glared at him but kept trying to convince her to leave.

“You did not answer my question, sir.” Riley barbed. “What are you doing to these girls?”

He scoffed. “They’re hookers, and they’re cheating me out of my money.” Just as he finishes speaking, a devious smile appears on his face. “Perhaps, if you’re so worried about them, you’d like to take their place.”

He grabbed her arm.

“Hey!” Maxwell cried. “Let go of her!”

The man glared at Maxwell and threw a punch at him, who tumbled backwards with the impact.

“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Riley screamed at him. She got a taser from her purse and electrified him from behind.

The potency of the device and the sensitive spot on the man’s body made him fall face first on the pavement, grumbling.

“Do. Not. EVER. Punch Maxwell.” She growled at him. “And you fucking broke my nail!”

She kicked him on the stomach with her pointy heel shoe, which made him grumble and fall flat once again.

With the man taken care of, the three girls run to Maxwell.

“Oh, Lord, Maxwell!” Riley cried. “Are you alright?!”

“Yeah…” He smiled, his nose bloody. “I’m fine.”

“Your nose is broken! We got to take you to the hospital, quick.”

“I have house nearby.” One of the girls, a blonde, said. “Come, bring man.”

Avlona, Cordonia, Summer 2006

It was mid-afternoon in Cordonia’s capital city. The sun was merciless as always, the air was stiff and suffocating over the city. Drake and Linda Rosa, just like anyone else around them, were sweating like pigs and trying desperately to alleviate the intense heat.

The redhead, however, was smiling like never before.

“Rosa, please.” Drake complained. “You’ve just arrived from Dubrovnik. I cannot either bear or believe you’re excited about Avlona. Especially the port area.”

The neighborhood surrounding the port was greatly degraded. It was home to the bad and worst of Valonian society. Most tourists that came with them on the ferry were quick to disappear inside a cab heading to the heights around the Royal Palace and the financial district, or over the hills to Vougliameni.

The couple, however, was traveling on a budget, and could not afford fancy hotels in trendy neighborhoods. A very tight one, considering Drake insisted in paying for their accommodations during their vacation. So, he charged himself with the task of finding a hotel for them to stay in Cordonia which was clean, minimally comfortable, and far, far away from Brigade Hill. He chose a cheap one two or three squares from the ferry terminal, simple, yet respectable.

“Don’t be a party pooper, D.” She teased. “I’m happy to be here, with you.”

He smiled, in spite of himself. “Well, don’t be so giddy. We’re at a dump. Save your excitement for the touristic parts.”

“A shame we could only stay for such a short time.” Linda Rosa lamented.

“Those extra few days in Udine were worth it.” Drake commented, in faux-disinterest. “Besides, if we stay for too long in Cordonia, we’ll end up missing our train back to Austria.”

In reality, though, Drake had done what he could and somethings he really could not to delay their trip before the Cordonian leg and to rush their departure from his homeland.

“I suppose, though two days feel like an awful short amount of time! We’ll be barely able see a thing. Are you sure you weren’t able to book that palace tour?”

“Nope, they were full for today and tomorrow we wouldn’t be able to catch our ferry to Greece.” He lied through his teeth. “Don’t worry, Rosa, we’ll see plenty of stuff around town.”

“Yeah!” She cheered. “You’re completely right!”

“Besides,” He pointed to the distance. “You’re able to check the palace from here, anyways.”

The golden pavilion dominated the city’s horizon. It glistened in the Summer’s midday Sun on top of the hill. The mast on the building’s roof, Drake joyfully noticed, was devoid of its flag, a clear sign the King was away.

“It’s absolutely beautiful!” She breathed.

The Royal Family usually fled from the Summer’s heat at Applewood, hidden amongst the valleys between Neokastron and Tirkan, at the heart of the country. It was rare for either Regina, Constantine or even Leo to emerge from their self-imposed exile before the latter days of September.

It was mid-July, though, the perfect time of year to come to Cordonia and not meeting the King.

They got to their hotel, checked in and put their bags into the room. Linda Rosa laid into their bed. “I still don’t understand why we had to stay at a hotel.”

“My sister lives with some relatives.” He explained, once more. “They aren’t very nice folks and wouldn’t look kindly in me bringing guests over.”

“If they’re that nasty, I’m sorry for your sister having to live with them.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sorry for her, too.”

Later that night, they met Savannah at a small restaurant near Anastasis Cathedral, in the heart of the city. The streets were bustling with life, Drake and Linda Rosa having some difficulty in walking through the narrow paths, no-one seemed very keen in staying indoors with such warm weather.

Their meeting place was a quaint, delightful salon, going back to the 1920’s. They served Grecian food, and their clients were mostly people of the land. Linda Rosa found that somewhat strange, as they were in a highly-touristic area.

“Such a lovely place, Drake!” She beamed at him.

He smirked. “I’m glad you like it. They serve great food.” He checked his clock. “I guess Savannah’s running late. Would you like to order now?”

“I’d like some wine, actually.” She said.

He motioned for the waiter to take their order.

They talked over their chalices for a while, when Linda Rosa’s phone rung. She excused herself and went outside to answer.

“Hello.” She answered.

“Good evening, dearest.”

“Mother?!” She answered, surprised. “Is something on the matter?”

“No, not at all.” She dismissed. “I’ve just been wondering if you’d join us this Summer.”

She sighed. “Mother, I’ve discussed that with you and father at length. I am traveling with my boyfriend this season. I’ll be home as soon as we finish our tour.”

“I know, I know, but we miss you.” She said. “I know we had our differences these last few months, but we love you. We hope you’ll be able to join us soon.”

“I miss you too, mother.” The redhead said, meekly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I see…” The oldest said, dejected. “I’ll leave you to your date. Have a nice time, dearest.”

“Bye, mother.” She hung up.

Linda Rosa leaned against the wall for a while, trying to recover her peace of mind.

Feeling sufficiently calm, she stood straight. She looked around before entering at the restaurant again, when she sees someone she did not think she’d meet again.

“I cannot believe it!” She screamed. “Liam! Over here!”

The blond man was surrounded by a couple of men in suits, he, himself, in formal attire. Down the street, there was some kind of commotion, considering the amount of people gathered. He looked around, fearfully and confused, not that Linda Rosa had noticed the latter. When Liam finally locked eyes in the redhead, he smiled and strutted his way there.

“Linda Rosa!” He greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m vacationing!” She said, joyfully. “With all that money you gave me, I decided to treat myself. I wasn’t aware you’d be staying here, or else I’d sent a message.”

“I was supposed to be off at the country, actually.” He responded, somewhat bashfully. “But my father sent me here on some business.”

“How nice!” She commented. “Anyways, I was just about to head in. I’m dining with my boyfriend. Wouldn’t you like to join us?”

He paled. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose. I did not know you had a boyfriend, though.”

Linda Rosa blushed. “Yeah, I do.”

Just as if on cue, Drake came out the door. “Rosa, are you okay?”

The brunet stopped on his tracks, though, as he locks his eyes on the man talking with her girlfriend.

“Drake?” Liam asked, astonished. “You’re Miss Valois’ boyfriend?”

The surly man narrowed his eyes. “Yes, yes I am.” He then turned to the girl. “Rosa, where have you met Liam?”

“You know each other?!” She commented, surprised. “It is a small world, indeed! Liam’s a customer from the gallery! He purchased those paintings I told you about.”

The brunet had to take a moment to process the information. After all the trouble he had been through to keep his girlfriend from encountering his friends, Liam in particular. Little did he know; the young nobleman fell through the cracks.

Drake grunted. “I see.”

Feeling the animosity in the air, Liam excused himself. “I am most sorry to leave you, but I must go. I am waited for. It was delightful to meet you, miss Valois. Don’t be a stranger, Drake.”

The girl waved cheerfully, while the man barely acknowledged.

“Such a coincidence, right?!” She said, still somewhat stupefied.

“Linda Rosa, what there is between you and that man?” Drake asked, with barely-contained hostility.

“Why, nothing.” She said, confused. “He’d been to the gallery, we had some coffee, talked and he bought some pieces.”

“Lies!” He hollowed. “Tell me the truth, Linda Rosa! What was you doing with the Prince of Cordonia?!”

“Wait, what? Is this some kind of nickname or so?”

“Don’t even try, that move is not going to work on me.” He sneered. “He’s Prince Liam of Cordonia, the youngest son of the King and you know that!”

“You must be kidding me!” She breathed out. “He never told me that.”

He scoffed. “If he did, it’d make a difference?”

“Well, no, but perhaps I’d be more mindful of what I said.” She said, somewhat confused. “How do you even know him? What was he doing here?”

“Oh, shut up, Linda Rosa. You know it all, perhaps always did. You knew Liam was my friend, you knew he was royalty, and I was just a stepping stone in your way to become a princess.”

She looked pointedly at her boyfriend. “Drake, if you have something to tell me, just do it. Spare me of your snarky insinuations.”

“You like Liam.” He accused. “I bet you wish you slept with him while he was in Austria.”

“That’s just preposterous, Drake.” She said in such a patronizing tone that made him look like a stupid child.

“You’re rich, Linda Rosa, just rich. You’re awfully chummy with Liam not five minutes ago. Do you really expect me to believe that you’re just friends with him?!”

“Yes, yes, I do, because I am!” She shouted. “Where is this even coming from, Walker?! Do I look like some kind of double-timing prostitute?! Am I such a repugnant person to serve only as a gaping hole for a dick?!”

“Bingo!” He ironized. “You’re nothing but a whore, Linda Rosa. A crown-chasing, common whore!”

She slapped him hard.

“Listen, Drake, and listen to me good. I have never laid a finger upon that man, nor have I ever wished otherwise. The only shame I have is to have ever sullied myself with the likes of you.” She said, in that calm that comes with intense rage.

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”

“I guess there’s nothing else to be said, then.” She picked up her purse and walked away.

Orikum, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Faced with little choice, Riley complied with the blonde’s offer to take them to her place and the two girls led them to a three-floor shanty. It seemed the two of them shared a small room at the ground floor of the building. The apartment was neat, but it was very small and had a seemingly-permanent stench on the air.

“Sit him here.” The blonde pointed to a chair, while preparing a first-aid kit.

Maxwell complied.

“Who are you?” Riley asked.

The blonde once again answered. “I am Katya, and this is Zarina.” She pointed to the other girl, a tanned brunette.

“You have an accent. Where are you from?” She asked.

Maxwell grumbled when Katya started to mess with his nose. “I’m from Belarus.”

Riley made a noise in acknowledgement. She then turned to Zarina. “And you? Are you Cordonian?”

“Don’t bother, lady.” Katya said. “Zarina is from Kosovo, she doesn’t speak French.”

“Oh, does she speak Greek? English? German?” Riley offered.

“No, she speaks Albanian, Bulgarian and Russian.”

“How did you even get here?” She inquired.

Katya demeaned. “Pimp said we be going to Britain, but instead brought us here. I came with fourteen girls, and I don’t see them since. Zarina crossed on her own, this is only job she could find.”

Riley observed Katya’s hand working on Maxwell’s nose. She was steady, efficient and precise. “Katya, how do you know how to heal a broken nose?”

“I was nurse in Belarus.” She shrugged. “I can’t find job in Belarus, so I came.”

Riley eyed the girl. She was very young, 25 at most, and Zarina seemed even younger.

“Done.” The blonde announced, and Maxwell groaned.

“Are you okay, Maxwell?” Riley asked, worriedly.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Battle scars are sexy, aren’t they?” He joked.

She hugged him. “I’m glad, Maxwell, I’m sorry for what happened.”

He smiled at her and hugged her back.

“And thank you, Katya. You did not have to help us.” Riley thanked the blonde woman.

“I thank you, lady.” She said. “People like you don’t usually care for us, and if you had not helped, we would be in trouble.”

Riley smiled at them. “Don’t worry about that. In fact,” She took a card from her purse. “If you need me, call this number. You shouldn’t be forced to live like that.”

Katya grimaced, but took the card anyways. Zarina served them some tea, and the two Beaumont’s took a cup and drunk it.

Riley hummed. “It is very good! What is it?”

“It is raspberry leaves tea.” Katya provided.

“Could you thank Zarina for me?” Riley asked.

Katya speaks in Russian with Zarina, who bows. “She says you honor her.” The blonde said.

Riley and Maxwell finish their tea and say their goodbyes.

They were leaving the village when Riley called. “Maxwell?”

“Yes?” He responded.

“Why do you lie to me?” She asked.

“What?” He said, stupefied. “What do you mean?”

Riley frowned her forehead. “Maxwell, I’m not stupid. I’ve noticed you and Bertrand try to keep things from me. When we were attacked in Scutari, you bullied the policemen, so they wouldn’t tell me why they were protesting. You never told me what kind of tasks I’ll face until January, and today, if you had your way, I’d not know about this village.”

He sighed. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. But, Maxwell, I have to know where I’m going in to. If everything goes well, I’m going to be Queen, and as such, I couldn’t have the luxury of going blind into the government.”

“I know, I know.” He said, anguished. “But I… I am worried that if I show you the bad parts of Cordonia, if I show you here is no fairytale land, you’ll leave.”

Riley placed her right hand on his shoulder, halting their walking. She faced him, looked him straight into his eyes.

“Oh, Maxwell.” She hugged him. He hugged her back, fiercely. When they broke apart, she continued: “I’m not going to leave, I’m going to see this season through, and I’ll be doing my very best. I won’t be abandoning you or Bertrand.”

He smiled, melancholically. “I’m sorry, Riley.”

“That’s okay, dear. Just promise me you’ll do better.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He beamed at her. “Now, let’s go. We must get you to the island before the party is all over.”

When they reached the marina, Maxwell went down the deck, trying to find an available boat to take them to Sason Island.

Alone and after checking for anybody who could overhear her conversation, she fished out her phone from her purse and dialed a number. “Hello, it’s me. I have a plan, and you’ll be helping me.”

Athens, Greece, Summer 2006

Linda Rosa gracefully gathered her belongings from her room that fateful night and fetched a cab to Argyrocastron, where she dutifully waited for her flight.

Her passport was stamped at customs, and she still held onto her neutral expression. Her suitcase dutifully rolled behind her as she walked through the arrivals lobby.

Her face was stony still, when she finally locked eyes with the one she was looking for.

Teary-eyed, she ran to the young woman, some fifty steps away from her. The woman opened her arms, invitingly, and hugged her tightly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, trying to console Linda Rosa.

The redhead was as flushed as the color of her own hair. “I hate him. I fucking hate him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” She patted her back. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel, we’ll run a bath for you, order some comfort food and later we’ll go to the beach. The Sun heals.”

She sobbed. “Thank you, Charlotte. Thank you for coming and get me.”

“No prob. Come, come!” She cheered and picked up her stuff.

Red Rose - Masterlist

<< Last Chapter Next Chapter >>

#red rose #the royal romance

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spenceraugust · 3 years

Text

TAZNC Day 4

@taznovembercelebration

Selected prompt is italicized: Bookstore, Fall walk

See the month’s prompt list: https://bit.ly/2TUfDLC

Read it on AO3: https://bit.ly/38cjqMO

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Taako glanced up from his magazine to look over the counter, but there was no one there. Whatever, even if he technically was a co-owner, income wasn't really a big deal. He was modeling part time and in fashion school the rest of it, so the book store could rot for all he cared.

But Lucretia would have his head if he was the reason the family business failed, so he showed up on-time (ish) and ignored his cousin Magnus's complaints about being late to go walk Petal, Grandpa Merle's therapy dog.

"Sir? Hello?" The small voice came again.

"Kids section is on the left, just past the graphic novels. We have everything from Dr. Suess to basic chaptered books and books that go level by level." Taako glanced up from his magazine just long enough to grab his pen and scribble down some notes before flipping the page. "Now scram. I'm busy kid."

"I'm looking for a copy of House of Leaves- It said you had a copy in your stock on your website. Is that correct?" The boy seemingly found footing on the front of the counter and hauled himself up, head peeking over the top.

Taako blinked twice. "Uh, pumpkin, I think you've got the wrong book. Are you looking for the felt jungle book with the little hut on the front?"

"No, I mean the one by Mark Danieleweski. You have it in stock, right?" He readjusted his glasses with one hand, the other still gripping tight into the wood of the counter.

"It's a little advanced for you. You should pick something more your age- the diary of a wimpy kids are really popular, and a new one just came out," Taako gestured to the display.

"With all due respect, sir, those books are for babies-"

"Angus?" A man with dreads who had just entered the store beelined for the counter. "Is everything okay?" And then, he glanced up and his eyes met Taako's, and he smiled. "Oh, hey. Good to see you- how are things?"

"Uh, fine, I guess- look, your kid wants a book that's way out of his skill range. I know adults who couldn't finish it," Taako turned to the handsome man instead. Surely he'd be more reasonable than his son.

"Oh, you know how he is," Kravitz laughed a little. "I'm sure it won't be an issue. Hell, he'll probably have it done by the end of the week. If it's in stock, we'll take it."

"Look, if we only have one in stock, I don't want to sell it to some kid who's only going to read four pages and drop it," Taako frowned, admitting defeat and pushing his magazine aside. "It's a popular read, and it'll be bad for our Yelp reviews."

"What are you- this is Angus we're talking about," the dad's face turned from pleasant to confused to upset. "He read the Iliad in two days and the Odyssey in an afternoon. He read war and peace in under a week and complained that it was boring, and that it was too simple- come on, you know him."

"I don't actually- I've never met your kid. And what am I supposed to tell people when they come in- that some five year old snagged it first?" Taako asked.

"You've been selling him books for weeks- you were the one who sold him Pride and Prejudice last Thursday." The man gestured to his son in exasperation. "You really don't remember?"

"Nope, sorry homie," he said. "But regardless of that, I'm not selling your kid this six hundred page book."

"Fine," the man said, getting more irritated by the minute. "Then I'll buy it. Is that more comfortable for you to tell your customers?"

"Yeah, sure," Taako yawned, grabbing the last book from the store room and scanning it. "Sixty-five fifty-four, how would you like to pay?"

And, with a gaze that looked a lot like premeditated murder, the man squeezed his son's hand and grumbled "Credit."

"It was just weird, I don't know why he avoided me like that," Lup frowned, staring down at her pasta. "We always grab coffee together on Mondays and catchup on what happened on the weekend. But he seemed pretty mad at me."

"Yeah, I don't know hun. Did you try and talk to him about it?" Barry asked.

Taako took another bite of his food. As much as he liked living with his sister and brother-in-law, it had it's downfalls- like lab talk at the dinner table."

"All he said was that I hurt Angus' feelings, which doesn't make sense, because I really thought we hit it off? Kravitz had mentioned bringing him to Magnus' barbecue, since he couldn't find a sitter, and the kid seemed really excited." She frowned. "Like, he really wanted to meet Maggie's rescues, and I haven't seen him since he last came into the shop, so I don't know what I could have done."

"Did you try and apologize for whatever upset them?" Barry sipped his water thoughtfully.

"Yeah- I apologized if I had done anything out of line, said that I never meant to offend and that if he was willing to help me correct my mistake I would in a heartbeat, but he wasn't interested. He just said 'maybe another time' and headed back to the report section." She sighed. "I really feel like I messed this up, and I don't even know what I did."

"Hey, if he's being an ass then fuck him." Taako nudged her with his foot. "You've already got one shitty job at the bookstore where you deal with shitty people- you don't need to deal with shitty people at the job you like too."

"Yeah, I guess- he's just a good friend," She frowned. "And his kid rocks- I feel bad that I hurt his feelings."

"Hey, speaking of kids, want to hear about this weirdo family that came into the shop on my shift last week?" Taako changed the subject. "Really fucking odd. This guy bought his kid House of Leaves. The kid was like eight, and I told him like five times that it was too mature for him, and the dad nearly lost it."

Lup and Barey exchanged a very slow, very deliberate look.

"Taako," Lup said slowly, "babes, it's imperative that you listen to me and answer this as best as you can- what did the dad look like?"

"Uh, dark hair- box braids? And like, a little bit of stubble…" Taako wracked his brain. "Uh, an inch or two taller than we are."

"Was he your type? Did you think he was hot?"

"Uh… yes?"

"Fuuuck," she groaned. "No wonder he's pissed at me! I better call him."

"Wait," Taako stopped her with a grin. "I have a better idea."

~~~~

"I don't know, dad," Angus frowned, tugging gently at their joined hands. "I know Mrs. Lup is a good friend of yours, but I'm just not super comfortable with going back."

"She said she really wants to make it up to you, dear," Kravitz pulled his boy to a less busy patch of side walk and kneeled so they could be eye to eye. "She's made you a little basket of books to take home and said you could grab anything on the house- don't look at me like that, I checked and made sure they're age appropriate for you. She promised to apologize too, and she told me that there's a good reason for the mix up. And- and if there isn't, we can find a new bookstore, okay?" Kravitz squeezed his hand. “I think she was just having a rough day.”

“Okay,” Angus squeezed his father’s hand again. “But if she starts suggesting baby books again-”

“I won’t let her,” Kravitz promised, and he pushed the door open to the shop.

With the exception of an elderly couple in the adult section, the store was empty. Lup was kneeling in front of a book shelf close to the door, restocking. “Taako, bring four more copies of Shantaram when you’re done back there!”

“Now you’re just being mean!” A voice called back from the staff room, the door left ajar against a stool. Just in front of it, on the till counter, a magazine left abandoned.

“Hey, Lup,” Kravitz raised his hand in greeting. “Is there a second person working here right now? I’ve never seen that before.”

“Oh! Hey,” She dusted her hands off on her pants as she stood, smiling at them both. “Yeah, actually, he’s why I brought you guys in- I think things’ll make more sense once you meet my brother. Taako!” She called again.

“I’m coming! Jesus, hold your horses, woman!” He hissed, so Lup turned back towards the father and son.

“How was Pride and Prejudice, Angus? What did you think about Lydia and Wickham?”

“I- well, I didn’t really understand why they eloped, but it was certainly interesting- but that’s love, I guess-”

“Lu! Books are out!” Taako called, and Angus and Kravitz turned to see an identical twin pulling the stool from the door and flipping open the magazine.

“Thanks, ‘Ko!” She called back before turning back to their visitors. “So, um- I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. The Voidfish is a family business, and- while I know I’ve mentioned that I had a twin brother, I guess I forgot to mention that we’re identical. He’s- Taako’s an asshat sometimes-” “Wow, thanks Lup-”

“But he really didn’t know who either of you were and was doing what he thought was best for the store,” Lup finished. “It was just a huge misunderstanding- Taako didn’t know who you were, but you thought you knew him. But he knows now, so it won’t happen again. Promise.”

“We also made cookies,” Taako added, “In the little basket Lup made up. She threw some classics in there- you like Margaret Atwood, kiddo? Her stuff isn’t my favourite, but it does make good kindling.” “I like Margaret Atwood,” Lup frowned, taking the basket that Taako lifted over the desk without looking away from his fashion magazine. “Also, she’s a cool lady.”

“Cool lady doesn’t mean good author, Lulu,” He replied, causing his sister to huff in frustration.

“Here, Angus- These are a couple of my favourites. Go ahead and pick something you’re interested in, okay? I want to talk to your dad.” She kneeled and passed it over. “It’s okay if you don’t like them, but I want a full book report next time you come by, okay? You better tell me everything that’s wrong with each of them.”

“Yes ma’am!” he grinned, taking off down the aisle.

“I’m sorry again about everything,” Lup looked to Kravitz. “He’s- he’s abrasive, I know, but it won’t happen again.”

“Lup, hey,” He cut her off with a hand on her shoulder, “it’s okay. We’re good.”

“Yeah?” Lup visibly relaxed.

“Yeah,” Kravitz’s eyes drifted to where Angus had placed a copy of a book on Taako’s counter and was chattering away (much to Taako’s chagrin). “Besides, as much as I like Jenkins, I need my lab partner back. I can only work with him for so long before I lose it.”

“Oh, thank god,” She sighed in relief. “I think Brian is great and all, but he has the worst lab etiquette of all time.”

“So we’re good?” Kravitz nudged her lightly.

“Yeah, we’re good,” She nudged him back. “And, hey, just before we wrap up this whole fight thing, would you ever date my brother?”

#long post #TAZNC #day four #bookstore au #The Adventure Zone #fanfic #ao3 #taakitz #taako #kravitz #angus mcdonald #Lup #barry #background blupjeans

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astridthevalkyrie · 6 years

Text

Axe to the Heart: Chapter 2

Astrid Hofferson/Steve Harrington. “Maybe I hate a lot of things here in Hawkins but I suppose you’re not one of them.”

Chapter 1

Edit: Thank you very much to @warrior-of-httyd and @ashleybenlove for giving this trash pair a chance and for the lovely reviews. :D

The next few days became worse and worse. She did nothing but paperwork at the station, the only one who really acknowledged her there was Florence (who said to call her Flo), school was getting tougher by the day (what could she expect, it was senior year), and for some Thorforsaken fucking reason, Steve Harrington was still walking around like someone killed his cat (honestly, what a drama queen).

And Astrid hated the gut feeling she had that paperwork was all she’d ever do in her life, her grades would find a way to mess up eventually, and that she was the one who murdered the fucking kitten.

She was working her ass off to try to get past the first two problems. She could not let her grades slip, or her parents would take an interest in her, but not in a good way. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get Chief Hopper’s seal of approval.

The Steve Harrington thing she could just forget. Right? Right?

Wrong. Apparently, fate was working against her.

“Byers and Campbell, Harrington and Hofferson, Jackson and Brown…”

Everything, Astrid decided as she saw Harrington coming towards her, was shit. Her teacher, and this project in general were part of that everything.

Harrington dropped his bag and slumped in the chair next to her, before looking at her expectantly. She bit back a grimace and shifted her seat closer.

“I hope you know what we’re doing, Hofferson, because I have no clue what the hell she just said.”

Astrid snorted despite herself. Typical.

“We need to choose any Shakespearean work and act out a five minute scene of something we believed should have happened. That was the basic stuff. Everything else was her telling us in fancy terms how much she’d love to fail us if we screwed this up.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you spoke Shakespeare.” He flashed a grin at her, and Astrid bit her lip to stop a sigh of relief from escaping her.

He didn’t hold hard feelings - whatever he was upset about had nothing to do with her.

But then, maybe that was worse. Now she felt even more guilty, because he didn’t hold a grudge. Couldn't he just hate her and get on with it?

“So, when do you want to meet up to plan this thing?”

Astrid thought about what she had remembered last night. For someone who was dubbed a king, he sure didn't have that many friends. Since she'd been here she’d only seen him sitting with Nancy Wheeler, but yesterday, Nancy had sat with Jonathan, and Astrid had seen Harrington sitting by himself. There wasn't any need for him to - half the girls in the school would be more than willing to help him move on.

But what the hell. They might as well just spend the period together. She certainly didn't have anyone vying for her attention.

“Why don't we do it at lunch?” Then, to clear it up lest he think she watched him while she ate, she quickly said, “If you're not too busy.”

“Nah. I'm not. You know...too busy dreaming about girls who like photography nerds.” He shot her a smirk. Asshole. “I’ll find you there, then?” Harrington extended a hand.

He still looked like a fucking wreck. Astrid shook his hand and they didn’t say anymore to each other for the last five minutes of class.

They could have planned right then, but honestly...Astrid was looking forward to not sitting alone at lunch, and when she threw a quick glance to Harrington who was smiling at his phone, she thought he might be too.

“So…”

“So.”

“Why don’t we choose a book?” Astrid suggested, taking out her notebook and pencil. “We’ve read - well, I’ve read - most of them.”

“Hey,” Harrington cut in, looking affronted, “I’ve read them too. I’ve read...Romeo and Juliet. Oh, and Macbeth.”

“Hamlet? Midsummer Night’s Dream? Julius Caesar?” Astrid raised a brow at him as she listed some of her favorites (there was a reason she was in Shakespearean Literature and it wasn’t because she needed the credits).

“Maybe we could stick to Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth?” he asked, looking hopeful. Astrid nearly laughed - but she caught herself.

“Fine. Any ideas?” She bent down, ready to write. They could probably jot down notes and maybe even start a script by the end of the period.

“Not a one.”

Astrid snapped her head up and blew her bangs out of her face as she stared at him. “Okay, so I’ll be doing the work. Whatever. Just practice your lines when I give you them.” She stood up with her tray, taking her things in the other hand (and realized she really should have put her things in her bag before she stood up. She blamed Harrington and his floofy hair for distracting her).

“Hey, hey, no, I’ll help!” He stood up so quickly and with such wide eyes that Astrid relented (she relented? She relented? Just when the fuck was the last time she relented to anyone?) and sat down. Harrington sat back down as well, looking satisfied. “Okay, so I think we should do Romeo and Juliet. It’s everyone’s favorite.”

“But if it’s everyone’s favorite, everyone will be doing it. Maybe we should go with Macbeth.” She leaned back before realizing there was no wall behind her.

Okay, whatever this new idiotic side of her was, it needed to stop popping up in front of Steve fucking Harrington. First she had the gall to feel guilty, and now she was doing dumb stuff like relenting - if she didn’t look out she might start joking around with him.

“What scene could we add to Macbeth?”

“What scene could we add to Romeo and Juliet?” Astrid shot back. If he said that they should show the sex scene in greater detail then Thor help him, she would murder him.

“Maybe a scene with the parents mourning. You could be Lady Capulet and I’d be Lord Montague since Lady Montague died.”

It...wasn’t a bad idea. It was okay. More than she expected.

“Okay…” She wrote the idea down. “Mourning parents. I can work with that.”

“We can work with that,” Harrington insisted, leaning forward and reading her notes upside down. “You know, Lady Capulet really suits you.”

Astrid looked up at him. There was a small smile on his face and testily she asked, “Why do you say that?”

He shook his head, seemingly holding back a laugh. “Lady Capulet was stuffy as hell, you’d play her really well.”

Astrid glared at him, stuffed her notebook and pencil in her bag (ha, she thought ahead this time), and stood up, storming away from him.

Five people. Five people in the whole world were allowed to make fun of her about her personality...her “stuffiness.” And Harrington wasn’t one of those five people. So he could go screw himself.

“Hey...hey!”

She ignored him, leaving the lunch room even though she heard whispers. Astrid didn’t want anyone whispering about her, but if she turned around and snapped at him in front of everyone, whispers would be the least of her problems.

It was when she stopped at her locker that Harrington caught up with her. “Okay. I’m sorry. Be Montague. Lady Montague, that is. We can bring her back from the dead. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Astrid snarled - could he let her be irritated with him in piece? - as she shoved her bag in the locker and took out what she would need for the next period. “Tell me I’m being a drama queen and go away.”

“Hey, I’m the queen of drama queens.” He peered at her and gave her a charming grin (which, damn it all to hell, was pretty charming). “Just don’t stop talk - uh, brainstorming with me. Please? I just...really wanna work hard to get this grade.”

What the hell was wrong with him? Usually guys called her out for being a bitch or being dramatic, which she usually was. On purpose. The only guy who hadn’t done that who she’d been romantically involved with was Hiccup, and no one was like him. Certainly not King Steve.

Astrid slammed her locker shut and looked up at him (she blamed his hair for the extra foot he had on her). “Don’t call me stuffy again.”

“Won��t.” He looked completely serious. “Definitely...will not. At all. Um...I don’t think we should go back to the cafeteria because there are people who saw us leave -”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Romeo.”

“ - Welcome, Lady Montague. Hey, maybe we should have that instead! A scene between Romeo and his mom where they talk some stuff out.”

Astrid shook her head, hiding her smile as she hugged her books close to her chest. Well, that was strange. All the anger had evaporated. But he had called her stuffy. And he wasn’t allowed to.

But it wasn’t as though she was suddenly close to him, it was just nice to...talk to someone like this again. Like a friend.

“Next.”

“A scene between Nurse and some random cook and we just make it pure comedy.”

“Next!”

“Secretly Paris was having an affair with Paris from the Iliad.”

“Next!”

I have never written a second chapter this quickly, do you need any more proof that this ship owns my body and soul now?

#httyd #stranger things #astrid hofferson #steve harrington #stevestrid #valkyrie stories

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brigdh · 7 years

Text

Book Blogging

A Tyranny of Queens by Foz Meadows. The sequel to the portal fantasy I read last month. Most of the plot here is fallout from the climax of that book: Saffron has returned back to Earth from the fantasy world of Kena, but can she re-adjust to a 'normal' life? And if not, what choices will she make? Yena's adopted sister died in the final battle, but can Yena reclaim religious rights for her sister's funeral and learn more about her mysterious heritage? The evil king has been overthrown, but escaped – where is he and what caused his actions? What's up with the mysterious magic artifact he left behind in the castle? Sadly, I didn't like this book nearly as much as its predecessor. The biggest problem is simply a shift in the use of characters; whereas the first book divided its pages fairly evenly among a vast cast, A Tyranny of Queens is hugely dominated by Saffron and Yena. And I'm sorry to say it, but they're the most boring characters in this series. Both are an example of the 'normal teen girl dealing with events outside her experience' archetype, which is a fine enough archetype as far as it goes, but not one that's particularly exciting unless you give her some sort of distinctive personality trait, anything other than 'determined', 'hard-working', 'smart'. Buffy wanted to date boys and wear cute clothes; Katniss wanted to be left alone and was unexpectedly ruthless; Saffron wants... ? The characters who did grab my attention in An Accident of Stars are pushed mostly off-screen here. Yasha, the grumpy, staff-wielding elderly matriarch who was revealed late in the first book to be an exiled queen, gets something like ten lines of dialogue in this entire book. Viya, the young, spoiled but trying hard to improve noblewoman who is named co-ruler of Kena at the end of the first book, and thus should be navigating the delicate balance of maintaining equality of power while still learning to handle so much responsibility, gets literally two scenes out of three hundred pages. And so on through a whole list of really cool characters. Instead we get multiple chapters of Saffron arguing with her guidance counselor, then her parents, then her social worker over whether she should apologize to one of her high school teachers over a minor incident caused by a bully. Exciting fantasy! My second problem with the book, unfortunately, is much more fundamental. The plot revolves around discovering that the evil king wasn't really evil after all, but was brainwashed. I'm sure this is an attempt to do an interesting redemption arc, or to look at how even the worst-seeming villains have their reasons, but it didn't work for me at all. It felt like a cop-out to remove blame from the king by passing it on to a historic figure from centuries ago (who never gets an explanation for his evil actions, so Meadows hasn't really complicated the role of villains so much as pushed the question a few steps outside the main narrative). None of the many people who died in the wars he started or were tortured in his pursuit of knowledge get a voice in this second book, so I kept feeling as though the suffering he caused was conveniently being swept under the rug to get readers to feel sorry for him. In addition, for a book that tries so hard to be progressive, ending with 'it's not the king's fault! He was manipulated by a foreign woman who made him fall in love with her!' is, uh... not a great look. All in all, a disappointing book. But there was enough good about the series that I'll give the author another chance. The Written World: How Literature Shaped Civilization by Martin Puchner. A nonfiction book that makes its way through human history via the medium of literature. Each of sixteen chapters focuses on a particular classic and shows how it both influenced and was influenced by contemporary events, from Homer's Odyssey giving Alexander the Great a hero to model himself after to The Communist Manifesto inspiring revolutions across the world. A subthread is the development of the technologies of literature itself – the inventions of the alphabet, paper, the printing press, ebooks, etc. It's a pretty neat idea for a book! Unfortunately the execution is terrible. I started off being annoyed that Puchner never seems quite clear on what he means by the term 'literature'. He implies it only includes written works (in the Introduction he says, "It was only when storytelling intersected with writing that literature was born."), and yet many of the pieces he choses to focus on were primarily composed orally (The Odyssey and the Iliad, The Epic of Sunjata, the Popul Vuh, probably the Epic of Gilgamesh, certainly at least parts of One Thousand and One Nights). And yet there's never any discussion of what it means to go from an oral mode to a written one, a topic I was eagerly awaiting to see analyzed. It's just... never addressed beyond a passing mention here and there. Okay, fine, I thought to myself, Puchner means 'literature' as in 'stories'. But that doesn't work either, since once again many of his choices don't tell any sort of narrative (Saint Paul's letters, Martin Luther's theses, Benjamin Franklin's 'Poor Richard's Almanac', Confucius's Analects, Mao's 'Little Red Book'). So what does Puchner mean by literature, the central organizing principle of his whole book? God alone knows. My irritation with the book deepened when I got to Chapter Four, where Puchner claims credit for inventing the concept of the Axial Age: "It was only in the course of trying to understand the story of literature that I noticed a striking pattern in the teaching of the Buddha, Confucius, Socrates, and Jesus. Living within a span of a few hundred years but without knowing of one another, these teachers revolutionized the world of ideas. Many of today’s philosophical and religious schools—Indian philosophy, Chinese philosophy, Western philosophy, and Christianity—were shaped by these charismatic teachers. It was almost as if in the five centuries before the Common Era, the world was waiting to be instructed, eager to learn new ways of thinking and being. But why? And what explained the emergence of these teachers?" Sure, dude, sure. You came up with this vastly original idea all on your own. (To be fair, if one choses to read through the endnotes, Puchner does cite Karl Jaspers, though he still insists his own version is ~so different~.) He then proceeds to get basic information about the Buddha completely wrong. For example: Some form of writing may have existed in India during the Buddha’s time (the so-called Indus Valley script may not have been a full writing system and remains undeciphered). This sentence. I can't even. I almost stopped reading the book right here, it's so incredibly incorrect. It's like saying, "Thomas Jefferson may have been literate, but since we find no Latin engravings in his house, we can't be sure." Let me lay out the problems. The Buddha lived around 500BCE; the last known well-accepted use of the Indus script was in 1900BCE. That's a gap of nearly two millennia. The Indus script was used on the western edge of South Asia, in Pakistan and the Indian states of Gujarat and Haryana; the Buddha lived on the eastern edge, in Nepal. At minimum, they're 500 miles apart. There is no chance in hell the Indus script was remotely relevant to writing about the Buddha. And in fact, we don't need to guess at the script of the Buddha's time and place. It's called Brahmi and it's quite well attested – though Puchner doesn't once mention it. He does include a photo of an Indus seal, because why not waste more space on utterly irrelevant information. Let's quickly go through the problems on the rest of this single page: What mattered above all were the age-old hymns and stories of the Vedas, which were transmitted orally by specially appointed Brahmans for whom remembering the Vedas was an obligation and a privilege. Though the Vedas do have an important oral history, they were certainly written down by the time of the Buddha, and possibly as early as 1000BCE. The oldest Indian epic, the Ramayana, was also orally composed and only later written down, much like Homeric epics. The Mahabharata is generally considered to be the older of the two epics. Despite my disillusionment at this point, I continued on with the book. And to be fair, I noticed many fewer mistakes! Though possibly because I know much less about Renaissance Germany or Soviet Russia than I do about Indian history. I did hit several problems again in the chapter on the Popul Vuh, the Mayan epic. To begin with, the chapter opens with a long dramatic scene recreating the Spanish conquistadores' capture of Atahualpa, the Incan emperor. Incan. Who lived in Peru, in South America. The Classic Mayan culture was based in Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize – North America and a bit of Central America. This time Puchner is literally on the wrong continent. Once he finally makes his way up to the Mayan homeland, he focuses his narration on Diego de Landa, a Spanish priest who did indeed write an important ethnography of the Mayans of the 1500s. The Classic Mayan Era was over by 950CE, introducing a discrepancy Puchner does not deign to acknowledge. Even aside from that small problem, Puchner describes Landa's writings multiple times as "an account [...] that has remained the primary source of information on Maya culture." This entirely ignores not only the Popul Vuh itself; but the multiple other Mayan codices that survived Spanish colonialism; the many Mayan writings carved on their pyramids, palaces, and stele, and painted on their pottery; their murals of war, sport, and history; the enormous archaeological record of their cities, technology, and diet; and, oh yeah, the fact that Mayan people are still around today. Oh, my bad – Puchner does remember the Mayans still exist. Here's what he has to say about them: "My journey began in the Lacandon jungle. A bus dropped me at the border of the Maya territory, where a beat-up truck picked me up at the side of the road. The village of several dozen huts was located in a clearing in the jungle. Everyone but me was dressed in what looked like long white nightgowns. Men and women both wore their black hair shoulder length (I thought of the shipwrecked sailor who had gone native), and most of them walked around barefoot, sometimes donning rubber boots." That's it. That's literally the only mention of the modern Mayan people. (Puchner's in the area to learn about the Zapatista uprising, to which he devotes the rest of the chapter.) I'm so glad he spent ages detailing that and de Landa's biography instead of devoting any space at all to the contemporary persistence of Mayan beliefs, language, or rituals. When I first read its blurb, I looked forward to the rest of The Written World. Unfortunately it's the closest I've come to hurling a book at the wall in a long, long time. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.

[DW link for ease of commenting]

#books #book reviews #foz meadows #martin puchner #netgalley

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shyscience · 7 years

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Worshiping the gods

Here are some tips and ideas I wanted to share from my personal experiences of worshiping Hellenic gods and goddesses!

For this guide, I’ve tried to incorporate some ideas I don’t usually see in these sorts of things. Not to say I’m the first to think of them, just some things I feel need some more love and appreciation.

💀 I’ve made a Hades specific post similar to this if you’re interested, here!

List under the cut below :)

🌙 Get personal!

One of the main things about working with deities is that everyone’s relationship with them is different. There is no set, 100% right way to worship a god or goddess, so don’t be afraid to try new things. Think outside the box, no one wants to just do the same exact things as the next guy, right? That being said, this gets easier the more your relationship builds. Don’t feel pressured to find a completely new and unique way to worship, especially not right off that bat. Simple things work just as well.

Like, finding things your god likes that isn’t in the history books. For me, Hades, I've found, is fond of blueberries. That, as far as I know, is not historical. But he seems to like it whenever I give him raw blueberries or ones covered in dark chocolate (another found favorite of his).

🌙 Colors. Colors! Colors!

This is really more important than you’d think and can make worshiping subtly and/or quickly a breeze. For example, wear colors you associate with the deity of your choice. If you think of pink for Aphrodite, wear that lace, baby pink dress that’s been hiding in your closet. Or with makeup, you can do a powerful, blue smokey eye for Hera, or a more natural look for Athena, or use rusty, sparkly reds the remind you of fire for Hestia. As long as you’re doing it in their name respectfully, they will love it.

Don’t underestimate the usage of just colors when working with deities!

🌙 Don’t forget epithets!

You would be shocked at how much you can learn about a deity just from some old nicknames. I advice you to go look some up, and not only use them when addressing the deity in question, but really take the time to learn more about ones you find interesting.

Such as: Aphrodite is more than just love and lust. She has epithets pointing to the possibility she was once considered a war goddess, epithets referring to darkness and death, and one meaning “skilled in inventing”, just to name a few.

🌙 Reading!

And I don’t mean just reading their myths, though that’s a good idea too. I mean read things that simply remind you of them. Athena might enjoy a good mystery novel or Apollo would appreciate some fine poetry, perhaps Shakespeare.

Also, maybe pick up an ancient Greek epic like the Iliad or Odyssey; or an old Sapphic poem; or something by Hesoid, Aristotle, or Plato; something that can be universal to all gods of that pantheon or easily devoted to a specific one. Not to mention how many context clues and first hand ideas about the gods you get, as well as some awesome stories.

Don’t forget to annotate and take notes!

🌙 Digital Entertainment!

Besides reading, one can also use modern technology to better connect with the gods. You can, honestly, watch things you enjoy while also honoring deities. For example, watching makeup tutorials on youtube? Aphrodite would love to get in on that. Just put on an action film, maybe some cool, fighting super heroes? Invite Ares to join in. Hell, in the morning Zeus might even like watching the weather with you while you drink your coffee.

Or, put something on specifically for that deity. Like, you think Hera wants to watch “Say Yes to the Dress”? Put that on and either watch it with her or just carry on with your work if you’re busy and let her do her thing.

Also, I know a lot of pagans, myself included, make playlists dedicated to different gods and listen to it when worshiping or just when we feel the need to connect to that certain deity. This is a good way to use your personal tastes and likes to worship.

🌙 Devote a Journal/Diary just for them!

If you’re feeling especially close to a certain deity, consider having a journal or some other type of book where you write strictly about that god or goddess. A lot of pagans have a BOS or something similar, but this is something more personal to whichever god or goddess you’re doing it for.

I did this with Hades and he adores it. I bought a Dark Brotherhood (Skyrim) inspired journal and I use it to write all about Hades, including information, myths, personal things about our relationship, ect. It’s a good place for me to keep all my collected information about him without cramming my normal BOS full and so I’ll have all the information together for much easier, faster access.

You can also use a journal or diary to simply write letters or ‘talk’ to deities casually if you don’t feel comfortable talking out loud but don’t want to just speak in your head. Writing things out physically might be a good choice.

🌙 Jewelry and Clothing!

This one is pretty self explanatory. You can wear anything that reminds you of your deity, which is a great way for subtle worship. Like I mentioned before, colors can be a big deal, but you can use imagery as well. If you want to wear a flower crown and praise Persephone or Demeter, go for it. Have any earrings with musical notes on them? Apollo thinks they’re very pretty.

🌙 Art and Writing!

Another self explanatory one. Drawing deities or things associated with them is a common and well received offering. Some people even make their own jewelry, clothing, veils, statues, or other crafts, there really is no limit here. If you can think it, you can do it!

You can also write any number of things as worship. Write a hymn, a poem, a song, a fanfic, a made up myth, a modern story, ect.

🌙 Tattoos!

I highly advise you don’t jump at the first opportunity to do this or take this lightly. Tattoos are permanent, obviously, but that’s also what makes this sort of devotion so special and dangerous. You can get a depiction of your god on your body, sure, but not everyone wants that. Instead, consider a sigil (maybe that you made), something associated with them, a quote that reminds you of them, ect..

If you decide you want to bring Persephone with you everywhere you go, maybe you’d get a flower. or get some wings on your ankles, if you’re so inclined, for Hermes. Create a personal sigil for Hekate and get it tatted. This is another devotion that lies heavily on personal preference and creativity!

Don’t think either that you have to get something you don’t like just because you think they’ll like it. Its your body, if you don’t want to get a big tattoo of their face on you, then don’t. You can get something small, easy to cover up later (just in case), that has another meaning to you, or is hidden under clothes.

Again, don’t take this act lightly and think very hard on it before seriously considering it!

🌙 Donating and Volunteering!

This is by no means required of you to do and not everyone has the time or money to do so. But a good way to honor a deity is to donate money or time to people in need.

If you think Athena is going to just turn a blind eye to the fact you gave a dollar to help build a library in a less fortunate area, then you’re in for a surprise. Or if you gave your extra five to Planned Parent hood, Aphrodite would be pleased. Even giving your only spare change to a homeless person you pass on the street could be considered a blessing from Hestia or Zeus (protector of men, protector of strangers).

🌙 Be Sincere!

What I can’t stress enough is be sincere in your devotions and offerings. Even if it’s just giving thanks for an answered prayer or a quick hello as you pass your alter before going to work, do what you do with meaning. However, don’t confuse sincerity with pure enthusiasm or excitement. If you’re feeling low, don’t feel bad that you weren’t motivated to do something huge for your deity. They understand, really. As long as you’re doing what you can in the moment, they appreciate you even taking the time to talk to them, especially in moments where you feel down because it shows them how much you’re trying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is in no way a complete list, but I hope it gives some people some ideas or inspiration in their worship! Remember, everyone’s relationship is different, so you are in no way expected to do all or any of the things listed here, this is just a little peak into how I do it.

I’ll likely add more to this list in the future or even make others!

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mst3kproject · 7 years

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422: The Day the Earth Froze

The Kalevala is sort of the Iliad of Finland. As the opening narration of The Day the Earth Froze explains, in the middle of the 19th century a philologist named Elias Lönnrot compiled a collection of folklore and oral poetry into a single epic, which went on to become a major cornerstone of Finnish national identity. There's a Lemminkäinen Construction Group and a Sampo National Bank, towns called Kalevala and Pohjola, and things like Ilmarinen Streets all over the place. February 28th is Kalevala Day. It's a big damn deal.

Before I started this review, I did some thinking about whether I ought to read the poem before I tackled the movie. I ended up deciding against it for a couple of reasons. First, because a movie ought to stand on its own: part of its purpose is to bring the story to a new audience. If you can only understand the movie because you're already familiar with the source material, it has failed both as an adaptation and as a piece of art in its own right. I am therefore going into The Day the Earth Froze unspoiled by the poem, and will see what I can make of it.

Second, the Kalevala is fifty percent longer than the Iliad and would probably have taken me months to read. That was also a constributing factor.

The Day the Earth Froze is a fairy tale: a bunch of old guys in pajamas want Ilmarinen the blacksmith to build them a Sampo, a magical object that can produce gold, grain, and salt. It cannot be forged, however, without heavenly fire, which belongs to the witch Louhi (she keeps it in a cow skull for some reason). It just so happens that Louhi wants the Sampo for herself, so she kidnaps Ilmarinen's sister Annikki and refuses to let her go except in exchange for the Sampo. With no choice, Ilmarinen builds it, and then takes his sister home while her boyfriend, Lemminkäinen, goes back to destroy the Sampo. Louhi takes revenge by crashing Lemminkäinen and Annikki's wedding and stealing the Sun. The men of Kalevala must find a way to defeat her and force her to return it, or the world will come to an end in darkness and cold.

(If you're thinking that all the names in the movie sound like they came from the Silmarillion, that's because Tolkien loved the way Finnish sounded and used parts of its phonology and grammar as inspiration for the Elvish language Quenya. Also, you're a nerd.)

The original film, called simply Sampo, was ninety minutes long. Quite a bit of it was cut when they dubbed it into English as The Day the Earth Froze, and a little more chopped out by the MST3K people. In addition to the English version, I managed to find one in the original Finnish with rather sparse subtitles. I'm sure I missed a lot of the nuances of the dialogue that way, but I got to see the stuff that wasn't in the episode and boy howdy, some of it was weird.

For example, that bit of dialogue between Annikki and Lemminkäinen when they flirt a moment before his log floats away? Not in the original. I'm guessing AIP dubbed that in because they thought it was creepy that these two fall in love without ever even learning each other's names. In an unusual move for American International Pictures, they were right. It's even creepier when both parties run straight home to their families to rave about this pretty person they know absolutely nothing about.

Did you wonder how Lemminkäinen found out that Louhi had taken Annikki? I kinda did. Turns out it's because Annikki sent him a magical telegram made of hair, which gives him a vision causing him to shoot a taxidermied eagle with an arrow (I promise you, the scene is even stranger than you're imagining). This, unfortunately, raises a new question: did Louhi have a way of delivering her ransom demand, or was she counting on Annikki to pull some Disney Princess magic out of her ass? What if it hadn't occurred to Annikki to throw a lock of hair out the window? What if Ilmarinen and Lemminkäinen just concluded she fell out of her boat and got eaten by a shark or something? The extra material actually makes less sense.

Then there's the entire subplot they cut out, at least ten or fifteen minutes of movie in which Lemminkäinen gets his ass kicked by Louhi and his mom has to come to his rescue. See, after Lemminkäinen returns to Pohjola for the Sampo, the witch tricks him into dropping his sword (after failing to trick him into drinking a flagon of frogs) and then puts a snake down his shirt. He passes out from the venom, and the trolls throw his body off a cliff. Luckily the sun was watching – it informs our hero's mother of this, and she straight-up walks across the sea, no explanation whatsoever, commands the ocean to spit him back up, and walks home again carrying him like a tea tray!

Holy shit. Why didn't they send her to get the Sampo back? She could just walk in and put it in her fucking purse! What's going to stop a woman who can give orders to the sea?

Once Le Mom Käinen gets her son's corpse back to Kalevala, the Tree and the Road who refused to help her earlier take pity and give her magical sap and dirt to bring him back to life. So after all that, how does he thank her for bringing all her awe-inspiring superpowers to bear in saving his life? Why, he goes right out and does the thing that got him killed again, returning to Pohjola to destroy the Sampo! I hope she grounded him.

Like The Magic Voyage of Sinbad, The Day the Earth Froze was directed by Aleksandr Ptushko, and it's interesting to compare the two films. The Day the Earth Froze has less of the distinctly operatic feel that was such a part of Magic Voyage, but it is not completely absent. There's very little of it, to be sure, in the opening sequences, which are shot in the countryside with an emphasis on the great outdoors as a sort of rural paradise. We see thick woods, rushing rivers, herds of goats, and get an idea of a rustic but prosperous community. Something similar happens at Annikki and Lemminkäinen's wedding: dancing outdoors and crowds of extras for a more naturalistic feel.

This contrasts with the way things are depicted in Pohjola, where Louhi and her trolls make their home. Here the sets look more like sets, and there is a greater use of painted backdrops – when Joel and the bots describe the field of snakes as 'an El Greco', they've got the right idea. The Land of Kalevala is supposed to be a version of the real world. It is romanticized and idealized, but the audience ought to be able to imagine themselves going about an ordinary life within in, complete with the hard work necessary to a pastoral existence. It is important that all three of the main characters are introduced while doing work: Lemminkäinen is cutting wood, Annikki is doing laundry, and Ilmarinen is working in his forge.

Pohjola, on the other hand, is part of a fantasy, a land of witches and trolls, and looks correspondingly less real. This extends for the most part to the actions of the characters. Ilmarinen could not build the Sampo in Kalevala, because it required something (the heavenly fire) only available in the fantasy land of Pohjola. In Kalevala, Ilmarinen and Lemminkäinen must chop a boat out of a tree. In Pohjola, they are able to forge one in the same fire Ilmarinen already used to make a horse! And the fantastic Sampo cannot be brought back to the real world of Kalevala in its magical form. All Lemminkäinen can bring back is a piece of it, which will bring undefined 'good luck' instead of material gold or grain. When Ilmarinen tries, in Kalevala, to forge a new sun to replace the one Louhi took away, he is told he cannot succeed.

Perhaps this is another reason why the sequence with Lemminkäinen's mom was cut out for the American audience – it is a departure into the purely fantastical, and jars with the otherwise more realistic portrayal of Kalevala. It also doesn't really affect the plot at all, as illustrated by how easily it is excised in a chunk and how nothing seems to be missing from the narrative as a result. I presume it was in the movie because it was in the poem, but it doesn't do much. Imagine the Lord of the Rings movies had included the sequence with Tom Bombadil. Yeah, it would have been nice for the fans to see, but it doesn't give us anything that recurs in the story, it would have killed the rising tension, and those unfamiliar with the books would have been left sitting there wondering what the hell they just watched. Annikki's hair telegram does foreshadow the existence of some mild magic in the 'real' world, but the feats of Le Mom Käinen are way beyond that.

The effects used to present these real and unreal worlds are often quite good. Louhi's cloak sailing along on the wind looks very creepy and purposeful. The only time it's really silly is when Lemminkäinen fights it off. The chained-up winds are quite (pardon me) atmospheric, dangling ominously from the cave ceiling as they do – I like that the North Wind's bag is covered in icicles. The burning horse looks just unearthly enough and the Sampo doesn't look like anything in particular, which helps it remain a little mysterious even when it's right there grinding out gold. The matte paintings that represent Kalevala buried in snow are a little unreal-looking themselves, but perhaps they represent the fantasy world of Pohjola intruding into the real one of Kalevala, where it can do nothing but harm.

As weird as the movie is, I really did enjoy The Day the Earth Froze, and I'm actually kind of looking forward to watching The Sword and the Dragon now. You guys can also expect to see Aleksandr Ptushko in the Episodes that Never Were section sometime, not because his films are bad but because I really want to see more of them.

#mst3k #reviews #the day the earth froze #50s #just fuckin weird #russofinnish coproduction

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