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zellink · 4 months

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nearer, my god, to thee

a post-botw zelink fic. [ one-shot // 11k words // E-rated for sexual content ]

>> Read on AO3

Summary: Link finally understands that it isn’t him who has absorbed this kingdom into his bloodstream—it is the kingdom, it is her, and she is surrounding him, swallowing him whole. A tent in a forest, a summer night full of stars, and two people who have always been part of the wild.

Notes: Written as part of Zelink Hype Squad server's Hestu Gift Exchange 2023-24 for @spices28 ⭐️ Special thanks to @1up-girl and @mustardcheesedog for being such amazing betas. ✨

nearer, my god, to thee

Hyrule has always been a beautiful land.

Rolling hills that bleed into meadows. Verdant canopies of trees that shield and cover whatever creature that wanders beneath. Rivers that run wild into everywhere and nowhere, into seas that lead to places unknown. Mountains that seem to scratch the sky. Canyons that go so deep, one might think the core of the earth is visible from a bird’s eye view.

And Link, upon waking up from his long slumber, has laid his eyes on every inch of the land. Has seen it all through summer’s rage and winter’s wrath, underneath stone archways in front of mansions long gone, from behind overgrown vines that wrap around fallen citadels. He’s lost and found himself, time and time again, in the Lost Woods and the Hebra Mountains and the far-flung corners of Gerudo Desert. Has absorbed this land into his bloodstream until he becomes one with it, until he’s just another permanent fixture of the landscape—another mountain in Lanayru, perhaps. Or another river that flows through Faron.

But when all is finally said and done, and he has bled and bled in the bowels of the castle and in the field, and a golden light shines in the sky and descends gently onto the grass, he realizes, finds—

That there is just one more part of Hyrule that he hasn’t absorbed into himself at all.

And that part is living and breathing and sitting in the saddle atop her white stallion, riding alongside his brown mare. Her cheeks are flushed from the late summer’s heat. Her long blonde locks are blown back by the evening breeze, the top a little bit mussed up and the braids across her crown slightly loosened from the day’s hot journey eastward.

The urge to extend his arm outward and run his fingers through those tresses claws inside him.

He clenches at the reins a bit tighter instead.

They continue to ride.

To their right, Wetland Stable is all lit up for the night. Link has been there before, too. A few months ago, he slept in a cot underneath that very roof after he had chased down a particular landscape portrayed in an image on the Slate, hunting it all the way into the forest just across the river.

In the end, he had come out of it with a singed brow and an arm covered in burns—classic memento from the Guardians—and the haunting fragment of a memory from one hundred years ago, where the woman he ached to bring home had despaired and cried in his embrace, among the rainfall and the mud.

The woman’s voice is what slices through his thoughts.

“Gods, I’ve forgotten how muscles can ache from too much use,” Zelda says. “I think we should stop for the night and get some rest. What do you think?”

Link smiles at her. There is no mud nor rainfall on her face anymore—only a few beads of sweat that his fingers long to wipe away. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Shall we head to the stable, then?” she asks.

He turns his head to look at the stable again. It’s not especially crowded—Wetland Stable never is, unlike Riverside or Dueling Peaks—but he sees a few visitors sitting around the communal cook pot, sees some other patrons conversing with the stablemaster, and thinks that they’ve had their fair share of strangers’ eyes upon them for the past month in Hateno.

They’ll have more of that in their destination, too: Zora’s Domain is filled with people who know exactly who they are, beyond their unassuming appearance. People who know of the titles from their former lives, know of the hefty past that they carry upon their shoulders.

He wants to take her somewhere else. A place unknown to anyone else except for him. No prying eyes, no whispering mouths. Only boughs of trees overhead, the soft sloshing of water from leaping frogs, and the chirps of restless crickets.

Wants to share that piece of wilderness with her. Consume it together.

“There’s this spot in the cove of Crenel Peak,” Link says. “There’s a pond and a lot of trees and sometimes there are fireflies, too. We can pitch a tent and rest there.” He pauses. “If— if you want.”

Zelda’s lips curve into a smile—wide, dimpling her cheeks, and his heart twists and twists. “That sounds lovely, Link,” she replies. “Let’s go there, then.”

They change course, pulling at the reins to keep left on the dirt path, then turning at the intersection and heading a little further north. Past the quiet fields and open meadows and the unobstructed view to the castle—all black and gray and no wisps of crimson at all against the twilight sky—until they reach the base of Crenel Peak, where the hills part to reveal an opening to a tree-filled recess in the side of the mountain.

Link dismounts first, hitching his mare onto a trunk on the outskirts of the small forest before offering Zelda his hand—gloved palm facing up. He knows she’s more than capable of sliding off her stallion herself, but, well—he’d never pass up the opportunity to have her touch grace his skin. She takes it, and he feels her lean her weight onto his hand as she dismounts. Feels the warmth even through her glove, feels his blood rushing towards where their bare fingers meet.

When she lets him go to hitch her own steed, Link lets out a slow exhale through his mouth.

Blames his sudden breathlessness on the summer heat.

He unfastens their shared traveling pack and tent from their horses’ backs while Zelda takes the bedrolls. Lets muscle memory from a hundred years prior overtake his body because this—working together with her like clockwork, preparing themselves for a night in whatever pocket tucked away within the kingdom—is something even a long slumber can’t ever erase from him.

They walk further into the cove until they find a small clearing where the pond awaits, right at the base of the hill. He takes out the sheets of canvas and the poles, and begins pitching the tent. Assembles the poles, connects one end to another, then inserts each pole into its corresponding grommet. As he stakes the corners of the erected tent into the ground, he sees her build a fire in his periphery, steel against flint atop a bundle of wood. Orange sparks fly, and then their camp for the night is finally illuminated, ready for their rumbling stomachs and aching bodies.

And anything else that might unravel as the night progresses, a voice within him says, though he chides it, pushes it away.

Link unlaces the traveling pack and searches for some wooden plates and spoons. Fights off a smile from breaking across his face when his fingers brush over their tangled belongings—the clasp of his additional pair of pants catching the strap of her silk camisoles; her hairbrush that somehow got stuck to his robe.

Eventually, he finds those wooden plates and spoons.

He sets the utensils atop a nearby tree stump, places a cook pot on the fire, and says, “I think there’s plenty of mushrooms around. Do you want stew or skewers?”

Zelda purses her lips, mulling over his question, and something warm shoots through his nerves as if it’s the very first time he’s uttered such a question to her in this century. He supposes he should start getting used to this—asking mundane questions about nothing, about everything. Where to stay for the night, what to have for dinner.

“Skewers would be better, I think,” she replies as she settles on a fallen log in front of the fire. Gives her sweaty forehead a cursory wipe with the back of her hand. “It’s too hot for a stew, don’t you think?”

Oh, he really could get used to this.

“Yeah, skewers sound good.” He smiles at her.

So Link spends the next ten minutes foraging for Hylian mushrooms around the area, putting each that he has picked into a cloth bag Zelda had fashioned out of his worn shirt back in Hateno. In the end, he’s gathered enough mushrooms (and some Hyrule herbs, too) to feed six: one portion for her, three for him, and two for leftovers that can serve as a light lunch tomorrow for the rest of the journey to Zora’s Domain.

He returns to the cook pot, procures the jars of oil and crushed rock salt from their pack, and begins cooking their dinner. Pouring a little bit of oil, then hovers his hand above the pot, gauging the heat before pouring all the picked mushrooms into it. He stirs and stirs with a wooden spoon, trying his damndest not to look her way too much lest he makes a mistake and burns himself on the hot iron.

(But then any burn or cut is worth it when it’s for her.)

Once the mushrooms are cooked through, Link realizes that he doesn’t have the wood sticks, so he serves the food in the bowl and hands it to Zelda.

“This is just… a bowl of cooked mushrooms,” he says, bashful. “Don’t actually have the sticks to skewer them. Sorry.”

A laugh bursts from Zelda. “That’s no problem, Link,” she says, grinning. “I don’t think we would be eating the wood sticks anyway,” she adds, before reaching for the bowl from his hands. Covering his fingers with hers, pressing slightly before taking it away.

His breath becomes ragged in an instant, though he knows how to quickly regain his composure, because it has happened many, many times before. In Hateno, in their shared home and on the streets and every place in between. A lingering touch here and there, fire through his veins. The air turning heavy each time, but holding themselves back as they ride out the initial shock of being alive together in this century, as they parse through their grief and loss and shared wounds.

But now they are outside and there’s a certain lightness that percolates through him that he knows hasn’t been there in ages, and they are alone together—so alone—and he knows it will snap.

It’s just a matter of when.

So he shoots another smile at her and goes to serve a bowl for himself. Settles on the log next to her—the side of his thigh touching hers all the way to their knees. Feeling his skin sizzle even through the fabric of his breeches. Eats and eats with barely any words exchanged because their shared silence is as natural as breathing. When they break it, it’s for her to comment on his talent of making even just mushrooms seasoned with salt and herb taste good, and he replies with thanks and heat rising on his cheeks.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish their meals. It has been quite a long day, after all.

He takes the bowl from her and washes their dishes by the pond as she takes their pack inside the tent, fastens the flaps together, and changes into her sleepwear. With a rag he scrubs and scrubs the grime off the cook pot, averting his thoughts to anything else other than the sound of fabric rustling from beyond that layer of canvas, which proves futile anyway.

It’s painfully familiar, because he knows he’s been here before, regardless of the scantness of his memories. He’s felt this so often, if not always. A century ago, in other places, bearing skin with fewer scars but one that still aches to touch her all the same.

With everything cleaned, he sets them on the same nearby tree stump to dry. Takes a deep, deep breath, then takes his bedroll and pulls at the laces to unfurl it atop the grass, in front of the tent.

Link stares at it for a while, just as he has done for the past three weeks—the same bedroll set on the floor beside the bed in their home. Imagines two bodies atop it instead of just one, pictures two sets of limbs searching for one another and tangling and joining. Swallowing those images down his throat, where they sear until they settle inside his stomach, dormant and docile, before they come up into his mouth again the next night. Over and over and over, because he knows that they have all the time in the world now and all that’s left to do is wait.

And he intends to swallow them all down and wait again tonight, though something in his gut tells him that maybe, just maybe, the trees and the open sky overhead might catalyze a bolt from the blue.

There’s more rustling from inside the tent, so Link decides to distract himself by undoing his baldric and belts, taking off his gloves, carefully setting the Sword against a tree, and then sitting down and unfastening the leather vambrace from his right forearm. Then it’s the patterned strip of cloth that he peels off from his arms, unwrapping, unraveling, until he’s only in his Champion tunic with the cotton shirt underneath, his pants, and his boots.

As he sets his protective leathers aside, Zelda comes out from the tent with her cream-colored nightgown finally wrapped around her figure—loose and sleeveless, with the thin straps hanging on her shoulders and the hem falling down to her mid-calves.

The sight knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Then his eyes settle on her face and he notices the furrow between her brows.

“Why are you setting the bedroll outside?” Zelda asks.

Link gulps. “I’m here to keep guard.”

Funnily enough, even he can hear the slight question mark that follows that sentence.

Zelda actually appears surprised by his reply. “From what? Hot-footed frogs?”

“There were bears here before,” he feigns obliviousness. “When I found this place the first time around.”

“Which I’m sure you’ve dealt with since I don’t see or hear them anywhere,” she says. There’s something fond in those emeralds of hers, like she understands exactly the predicament he’s found himself in because she’s in the thick of it, too—in the knowing and not-knowing, wanting to end it in the most perfect way possible—softly, gently.

“I’d like to keep watch with you, too, then.” A shy smile forms on her lips. “If you need the additional set of eyes, that is.”

Link knows she isn’t talking about bears anymore, knows that she knows he doesn’t need the additional set of eyes, because protecting her comes as natural as the blinking of his eyes, as inherent as his fingers around the indigo hilt of the Sword.

He doesn’t need the extra guard; he just needs her.

“Of course,” Link replies.

>> Continue reading on AO3

#now off i go to lose my mind working on my longfic #my fic #zelink #botw zelink #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #botw fic #botw

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bluesnow21 · 5 months

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Someone You Know is Trans; They don’t deserve to Die in the Closet.

It’s been two years, four months and twenty days since the day my best friend committed suicide. She was a transgender woman struggling with mental health, had admitted herself into the psychward a few times prior, and I thought she was taking her meds and getting better. There had been three instances where she’d mentioned/struggled with deciding over the ten years I knew her whether to go back on HRT or not.

At the time, she was back in college pursuing an IT degree, she planned to go back on HRT, move out to Sacramento CA permanently, have a small piece of property, and adopt a black kid. She was a stoner, a grease monkey, an atheist, pool player, and a big part of what made living my life in NJ easier and more enjoyable than it ever would’ve been. She also wrote letters to queer/trans inmates within the Black/Pink Project. She loved reading, film, collecting license plates, and muscle cars. Some of her favorite writers included Chuck Wendig, Douglas Adams, Michelle Tea, and Joe Hill. I got my first tattoo with her present, and the same day backed her car into a brick wall while she was trying to teach me stick-shift (she took I really well). We went to concerts, played pool, smoked weed, made trips through the Adirondacks, and every bit of time I spent with them was memorable. She got me through a bad relationship just by being there and comforting me, helped me out whenever I had car trouble, and was there to help me move into new apartments three times; Anytime I needed help or a friend she was there. Our birthdays are exactly 3 months apart, or as they would say when I’d forgotten this fact, “You Idiot! We’re exactly 9 months apart how do you forget this!?” She didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought about her. I admired her courage to be herself.

I miss her. I still remember the last hug I gave her a week before it happened; the last time I’d gotten high with her she’d told me her name she wanted to start going by but I was so high I couldn’t remember it when I sobered up (I had to Uber home). I thought I could ask again next time I saw them in another week. I knew something was wrong. When I got the news the morning of: I got drunk, then I cried my eyes out about a week or two later. I helped bury my best friend and I couldn’t remember her name that she’d wanted to change it to, so the funeral was a misgendered funeral; It’s something I still feel awful about. She wanted to be buried in a Rheingold Beer Jumpsuit that had belonged to her grandfather; instead it was a regular suit (not what they wanted). There was only one photo at the funeral of when she’d briefly started transitioning when I first met her, before she went off of HRT. I didn’t know how to bring any of this up to her Dad. He wasn’t a transphobe. I just didn’t know how to bring it up and since I didn’t have the name she wanted to go by I thought it more important to help bury my friend. Out of respect for not wanting to dead name her, I won’t use names. I just want to finally put something up here and TransDay of Remembrance seemed appropriate. It’s taken me time to put this up here because I wasn’t sure how the parents or other friends would feel about this. I know I’m not the only person she shared this with, but know that if she’d had more time more people would’ve known about this.

I’m posting this in memory of my friend and for all the trans-women/men/etc, who never come out and who never will.

Memento Mori Memento Vivere

Remember you will die. Remember to Live.

#trans day of remembrance #trans visibility #trans day of remembrance 2023 #trans rights are human rights #LGBT visibility #queer visibility #the closet

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teddy-bear-yuki · 2 months

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The Mystery of the Lost Key Once upon a time in a small town nestled between rolling hills, a young girl named Lily stumbled upon an old, tarnished key while playing in her grandmother's attic. Intrigued by its peculiar design and the way it shimmered in the dim light, Lily decided to keep it as a memento of her visit.

The Discovery Years passed, and the key lay forgotten in a box of trinkets until one day, while exploring the town's abandoned library, Lily stumbled upon a locked chest hidden in the depths of the building. Remembering the key from her childhood, she hurried back to her grandmother's attic and found it nestled in the corner of the old box.

The Unraveling With the key in hand, Lily returned to the library and unlocked the chest. Inside, she discovered a weathered journal and a map detailing the location of a long-forgotten treasure rumored to be hidden within the town. As she pored over the journal's entries, she learned about a mysterious figure from the town's past who was said to possess great wealth and knowledge.

The Adventure Determined to uncover the truth behind the legend, Lily embarked on a thrilling adventure, following the map's cryptic clues and delving into the town's history. Along the way, she encountered hidden passageways, deciphered ancient riddles, and navigated through treacherous terrain, all while unraveling the secrets of the enigmatic figure who had left behind the journal.

The Revelation Finally, after a series of perilous challenges, Lily arrived at a secluded grove where she unearthed the fabled treasure. Among the riches, she found a letter revealing that the mysterious figure had been a benevolent guardian of the town, using the wealth to secretly aid those in need and protect the town from harm.

The Legacy With the truth uncovered, Lily shared the treasure's wealth with the townspeople, ensuring that the enigmatic figure's legacy of compassion and generosity lived on. The key that had once seemed insignificant had led to the discovery of a remarkable tale of altruism and selflessness, forever altering the town's history and inspiring future generations to celebrate kindness and empathy.

And so, the lost key had unlocked not only a treasure but also the enduring spirit of goodwill that lay hidden within the heart of the town.

The end.

..............................................................................................................................

Kayıp Anahtarın Gizemi Bir zamanlar, inişli çıkışlı tepelerin arasında yer alan küçük bir kasabada, Lily adında genç bir kız, büyükannesinin tavan arasında oynarken eski, kararmış bir anahtara rastlar. Kendine özgü tasarımından ve loş ışıkta parlamasından etkilenen Lily, onu ziyaretinin hatırası olarak saklamaya karar verdi.

Keşif Yıllar geçti ve anahtar biblolarla dolu bir kutunun içinde unutulmuştu, ta ki bir gün Lily kasabanın terk edilmiş kütüphanesini keşfederken binanın derinliklerine gizlenmiş kilitli bir sandığa rastlayana kadar. Çocukluğundaki anahtarı hatırlayarak aceleyle büyükannesinin tavan arasına döndü ve onu eski kutunun köşesinde buldu.

Çözülme Lily elinde anahtarla kütüphaneye döndü ve sandığın kilidini açtı. İçeride, yıpranmış bir günlük ve kasabada saklandığı söylenen uzun süredir unutulmuş bir hazinenin yerini ayrıntılarıyla anlatan bir harita keşfetti. Günlüğün kayıtlarını incelerken, kasabanın geçmişinden gelen, büyük bir zenginliğe ve bilgiye sahip olduğu söylenen gizemli bir şahsiyet hakkında bilgi sahibi oldu.

Macera Efsanenin ardındaki gerçeği ortaya çıkarmaya kararlı olan Lily, haritanın şifreli ipuçlarını takip ederek ve kasabanın tarihini araştırarak heyecan verici bir maceraya atıldı. Yol boyunca gizli geçitlerle karşılaştı, eski bilmeceleri çözdü ve zorlu arazilerde yol alırken, tüm bunları yaparken de günlüğü geride bırakan esrarengiz şahsın sırlarını açığa çıkardı.

Vahiy Sonunda, bir dizi tehlikeli zorluğun ardından Lily, efsanevi hazineyi ortaya çıkardığı tenha bir koruya ulaştı. Zenginlikler arasında, gizemli şahsın kasabanın hayırsever bir koruyucusu olduğunu, bu serveti ihtiyacı olanlara gizlice yardım etmek ve kasabayı zarardan korumak için kullandığını ortaya koyan bir mektup buldu.

Miras Gerçeğin ortaya çıkmasıyla Lily, hazinenin zenginliğini kasaba halkıyla paylaşarak esrarengiz figürün şefkat ve cömertlik mirasının sürmesini sağladı. Bir zamanlar önemsiz görünen anahtar, kasabanın tarihini sonsuza dek değiştiren ve gelecek nesillere nezaket ve empatiyi kutlama konusunda ilham veren, fedakarlık ve özverili olmanın dikkate değer bir öyküsünün keşfedilmesine yol açmıştı.

Ve böylece, kayıp anahtar sadece bir hazinenin kilidini açmakla kalmamış, aynı zamanda kasabanın kalbinde saklı olan kalıcı iyi niyet ruhunu da ortaya çıkarmıştı.

Son.

#chatSonic

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trashbinbackyard · 5 months

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0 - The fool

A journal entry of an unknown author, written in code.

I have been thinking. Of time, and we as a people have always been the same. The child from 400 years ago would cling to her mothers hem the same way the children accompanying their parents in the grand bazaar would today. People have felt the overwhelming joy of love, the heartbreak of loss, and keep mementos of their dearest ones.

Truly, most of my discoveries on dig sites have been little glimpses into the life of the ordinary, the forgettable people who have come before us. Of course, these aren’t considered finds worthy of grand research or public acclaim, and I feel like people outside of my field do not find comfort and appreciation of the ordinary. It is my duty to acknowledge them, and to remember them, so wherever they might be, they shall find comfort that their lives, no matter how small, had meaning.

So, a little prelude to what happened today.

Grand people come few and far between, a single king or queen could define an entire century, and in their shadow, would be the ordinary, toiling away, forgotten.

The many wise men and women before me have given our era of life, the name “Second age” after the astonishing event known as the Rapture, it is believed to be the source of our magic, and its very nature, but nothing beyond that was widely known. That was until I met him.

To the clergy he was more precious than anything, a relic in his own right. He had accurately called me out for snooping in the archives of the grand temple, under the altar for Sune. At first I didn’t realize who exactly I was speaking to, and frankly I was a little on edge. A tall elven man dressed in all black stood behind me from where I was reading some tomes. I couldn’t really make out details in the dim light.

“You’re an inquisitive one,” I remember him saying, in a tone that I found quite pleasant, not accusatory, nor aggressive, curious, even.

I let my mouth get the better of me and babbled on and on about the many fields of research I’ve dabbled in, and that my current interests lie in the first age, that I was very close to finding out where a great lord used to have a winter estate, and that the according to the historians, he was great patron of arts. Oh to just think of it leaves me giddy, to see all the art collected by someone from that age, what time defining pieces would he have, what they would tell me about the lives of the people, what they appreciate, valued, revered, what they found appealing.

At that point I’m sure I had rambled on for so long, the man had started leaning against a wall with what I assume was his best attempt at a polite look, hiding his boredom. I'm sure he had seen and heard things much more magnificent than an art collection.

He was very gracious in his listening, and In fact offered for me to come meet him at his estate. Which brings me to today.

The estate address I was given was in the Pera district, on the other side the grand river from where I resided, the location quite idyllic, on the tall hill near the shore. The manor itself didn’t stand out, a three story building of light sandstone, no names on the door, nor the street.

I walked in like the man had instructed me to do. A tressym greeted me as I nearly stumbled on the poor thing. It kept vocalizing and rubbing against my legs for a while, which would’ve been the highlight of my day if not for the revelations to come. It hopped up the flight of stairs soon after, looking at me

Seeing no one else, I assumed I was meant to follow the tressym, so I did. It led me to a terrace between the second and third floor. A tea set had been laid out, three chairs around a circle table. The view on the balcony was one of the best I’ve witnessed in Nia Vasileos.

Turns out I wasn’t the only one admiring the view. The man who had invited me here stood leaning against the balcony railing, his ear twitched at the sound of my footsteps and I knew he had noticed me entering.

He turned to greet me, and now in the broad daylight (which was a beautiful, sunny day), I could see him better, still dressed in all black. His black hair was long and straight, with white roots, a scar crossed his brow, his eyes… an impossible shade of bright orange, like fire burning. I got a little uneasy to be fairly honest. Now, there was an air of something grander, something ancient around us. I was looking history in the eyes.

He was very polite, despite the immense power he held. He had set up an afternoon tea for us, he let me know that he had followed me around for much longer than I would think, that I was an “interesting person” to know. And that I may ask him anything I wanted to know, but he held onto his right to not necessarily answer.

We had the most delightful conversation. I asked him about the first age, how old was he, what were his favorite things from the first age, are there others like him?

He entertained all of my questions, even the silly small ones, in the midst of taking sips of the perfectly brewed black tea.

The tressym had curled up the third chair, and he would occasionally give it a few scritches, I asked about it, he said it was his partner’s, now, he hadn’t really given me a straight answer when I asked if there’s is any more people… or beings, like him. I would assume someone beyond the reach of time would be… lonely.

He gave a laugh and shook his head, “oh believe me, it is a lonely existence, but at least I can share it with someone”, he would turn his head to the sea, “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how many of us there are, the world is a large place after all”.

I followed his gaze to the sea. The scenery, the very moment, was idyllic, the gentle lap of the waves against the cliffside under us, the occasional whistle of the boats passing us by, the cheerful screams of children jumping off the cliffs into the warm water below.

A gentle breeze blew through my hair, through his hair, and I turned to look back at him, waiting if he had anything else to say still.

“A little too large.” He said, with a hint of melancholy in his voice, “But you still have time, enough to see a lot of it, should you wish”.

#decided i wanna write so here comes a tarot series on the fantasy world 2.0 #unnamed narrator #no proofreading we cringe like men #turn up next week for the magician #armed asshats #tarot series

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blue-howlite · 1 year

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Character analysis

Today we analyse Nathan McMillan, from the video game saga of Forgotten Hill. Why? Because I am terribly bored.

Warning: spoilers under the cut, also mentions of death, people getting turned into puppets, I'm basically talking about this character's potential issues.

SO, THIS MF (affectionately)

I'll be honest, I think he has some sort of mommy issues.

I mean, the two characters we know he had as "stars" of his shows were both women (the Petersen's mother and Josephine, Jimmy Larson's girlfriend), could be a coincidence but it's weird it happened twice right?

Then in one of the mementoes we have a dead woman in a wardrobe, even with strings attached to her if I remember right. Even if she didn't have the strings, it's still a dead woman in a wardrobe. In a wardrobe just like the Petersen's mother. Coincidences? I think not.

So we have three suspicious female characters, AND we know that his mother disappeared. No one knows what the hell happened to her, maybe the husband killed her, maybe her own kids did, maybe she just decided to move out of town, or maybe one of his husband's experiments killed her. Point is, missing mother figure from a certain point of his life onward.

Next argument to my theory: the fact that he seeks approvation.

We know from the stories on the official Forgotten Hill website that the huge guy in the theatre that eats a lot complained about one of Nathan's shows, and was then turned into a puppet.

A person that doesn't care about other people's opinion would have ignored him. But Nathan had to turn him into a puppet, because the guy didn't like the show. That's clearly a sign he cares about what others think and that he seeks people's approval. He couldn't stand the fact that someone wouldn't like what he did.

Of course for the creators that's probably just a way to characterize him and make him scary, but I really enjoy reading more than there is into this characters.

Then, we have Berry and the "we'll be together forever" theme.

Of course we know that the ritual to turn Berry into a ghost horse head was prompted by his father, but Nathan didn't hesitate nor seemed sad about it. In fact, he was happy that Berry would never leave him and that they would be together forever.

This heavily implies some attachment issues. Yeah, Nathan was a child at the time, but he still should know that everything and everyone dies at some point in life (let's see if I get to the end of this without triggering my thanatophobia :D). He should have learned that, but Berry experience might have taught Nathan that death can be cheated. This could also tie to issues with his mother's disappearance, and so the mommy issues mentioned before.

And his attachment issues are reflected on his work with the puppets. When Nathan creates a puppet, not only can he now control and play with it, but can also preserve it.

Going back to the women I mentioned before, we know that he didn't willingly get rid of the Petersen's mother. Even though he had replaced her with Josephine, he put her into a wardrobe and tried to keep her.

For the sake of the joke I could say he didn't want to let go of Jimmy either, he literally knocked him out on his way out of the theatre, but this should be a serious theory post so let's ignore that.

The puppets theme also suggests the theme of "control". I mean, making someone into a puppet to move them around sounds pretty controlling. And this ties back to the attachment issues, why tying people like that? He could have a normal theatre with normal actors my man, but instead he ties them and makes them unable to move without him. Is he scared they'll leave him? Why would he? Berry taught him that he can even cheat death so that's not the experience that made him worried about that. His mother then?

In conclusion.

Nathan has definitely attachment and abandonment issues that are probably related to his mother. But it's funnier to say that he has "mommy issues" lol.

#forgotten hill #Nathan McMillan #how did I manage to forget to add the tags

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pestilentia-games · 2 months

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youtube

Финал Хэллоуин часть 3 🎮 Forgotten Hill Mementoes #6

#youtube #forgotten hill #let's play

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readitreviewit · 3 months

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If you're a fan of Jackie Kennedy, then you won't want to miss out on the latest book from the #1 New York Times bestselling author, Clint Hill. In "My Travels with Mrs. Kennedy," Hill takes readers on a journey through his travels with the First Lady across Europe, Asia, and South America. With over 200 rare and never-before-published photographs, this book unveils an intimate side of the former First Lady that has never been told before. The story begins with Hill uncovering a forgotten steamer trunk in his garage as he prepares to sell his home. Inside, he discovers handwritten notes, personal gifts, and mementos from his travels with Mrs. Kennedy, triggering a flood of memories. As he and co-author Lisa McCubbin pry the trunk open for the first time in 50 years, they take readers on a journey through time, recounting Hill's experiences and travels with Mrs. Kennedy. Throughout the book, Hill reveals the depth of the relationship that developed between him and Mrs. Kennedy during their travels. He recounts intimate moments, wild adventures, and tender laughs that he shared with one of the world's most iconic women. From Paris to London, through India, Pakistan, Greece, Morocco, Mexico, South America, and "three glorious weeks on the Amalfi Coast," Hill takes readers on a breathtaking journey, experiencing what it was like for him to travel with Mrs. Kennedy as the entire world was falling in love with her. In addition to the humorous stories and intimate moments, Hill reveals startling details about how their travels helped them both heal during the excruciating weeks and months following the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in November 1963. He also writes of the year he spent protecting Mrs. Kennedy after the assassination, a time in his life he has always been reluctant to speak about. One of the most striking aspects of the book is the never-before-published photographs that accompany the text. As readers embark on this journey through time with Hill, they'll see snapshots of Mrs. Kennedy's life on the road – from exploring exotic locations to savoring quiet moments of solitude. The photographs bring the text to life and offer a glimpse into the personal life of one of the most beloved First Ladies in American history. Overall, "My Travels with Mrs. Kennedy" is a must-read for anyone who is fascinated by the Kennedy era and the woman who captivated the hearts of so many. Clint Hill's prose is engaging and witty, his stories are both heartwarming and humorous, and the photos are a captivating addition to the text. Whether you're a history buff or just love a good story, this book is sure to be a hit. Don't miss out on the inspiring story of "The Power of Now"! Buy the book today or get a FREE 30-day trial of Audible and start listening now. Take control of your life and embrace the present moment with this life-changing read. Don't hesitate, start your journey now! Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details)

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wintgm · 2 years

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Layers of fear xbox one walkthrough

This playthrough is solely for reaching the last ending for " Omniscent". Start a new game to achieve the final ending With knowledge of the layout of the game, this playthrough can be completed in approximately an hour.ģ. This playthrough is for reaching the second ending for " Omniscent", and mopping up any missed chapter-related achievements or collecitibles, if you have decided to purely experience the game previously. Start a new game to mop up any missed miscellenous achievements and collectibles, and achieve the second ending There are three endings in this game all must be reached at least once for " Omniscent" (Witnessed all outcomes), so for this playthrough it does not matter which one you get, but it will determine which ending achievement(s) you will get first.Ģ. All collected collectibles are immediately saved and permanently carry over to future playthroughs. Using a video guide to collect all collectibles is highly recommended since some are very well-hidden. The game only displays collected mementos and drawings there is no in-game tracker to help track interacted memorial objects. All but one can be obtained in one playthrough, but the exceptional one can also be obtained in the same playthrough very quickly through reloading a checkpoint in the game's main menu. Collecting them all is required for all 5 collectible-related achievements: " Scraps of love", " The artist's impression", " Immortalized in my heart", " You might have a problem", and " Whispers long forgotten". There are three types of collectibles from Chapters 1 to 6, which are 16 family mementos, 16 rodent drawings, and 28 memorial objects which make the protagonist recall what he said before. Though not story-related, it is virtually unmissable to obtain " Wanderer" (Take a thousand steps), which count your total steps taken when walking around, and in fact can be complete within the first few chapters. The game has two story-related unmissable achievements, " It's covered up for a reason" (Get working on your Magnum Opus), unlocked for completing the Prologue, and " It rings a bell" (Discover an echo from the past), in Chapter 1. Finish the game while completing all or most miscellenous achievements, and collecting all collectibles This walkthrough is designed solely on the basis of acquiring all achievements as quickly as possible.ġ. Thus using an achievement or collectible guide is not recommended if you intend to experience the most out of the game. It should be noted that as a psychological horror game, most horror elements work their best during the first playthrough, when you are completely unprepared for what will happen. His tragic past and madness are slowly revealed through progressing the game and interacting with items around him. You assume the role of a mad painter, whose goal is to create his magnum opus. Layers of Fear is a first-person psychological horror game similar to the critically-acclaimed Playable Teaser (P.T.) of the cancelled survival horror game, Silent Hills. Unobtainable/glitched achievements: None Does difficulty affect achievements: No difficulty Missable achievements: Several chapter-specific achievements, but none missable. Minimum number of playthroughs needed: 3 Approximate amount of time to 1000 : 8-10 hours

#Layers of fear xbox one walkthrough

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alienios487 · 2 years

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kaizokuseb · 2 years

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clicking on locked doors in escape room games is the most stimmy sound

#forgotten hill #i’m a lil drunk #but i’m really enjoying the sound of a locked door in forgotten hill: mementoes #i’m also 100% on the kids’ side #their parents deserve whatever they get

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istolealama-andgotarrested · 2 months

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Did Theodore do what he did because his Father stole the “Potrait of an Obsession?” -forgotten hill theory

Tw:mention murder and demons

So as we know from “tales” Victor Ostergard stole the potrait of an obsession whic was guarded by this guy( first picture below)

Now as we know once he returns home Theodore is already born (2 picture below)

So we can assume from the looks of him that this is very short before his family’s death by Theodore .

Could this mean possibly that The Oni cursed Victors’ son as revenge?

That’s why he ACTUALLY unknowingly killed his whole family?

Could this be or is it just a proof that the Ostergards are childish?

Like all McMillans are violent?

Thank you for reading bye

#forgotten hill #forgotten hill ester #forgotten hill victor ostergard #forgotten hill potrait of an obsession #forgotten hill mementos #forgotten hill theory

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cardest · 3 years

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Sweden playlist

Goodness! The Swedish Chef is deliriously pleased with this Sweden playlist. Det här är otroligt! It’s not far off 350 songs. Can we get there? I think so. (I tried to get songs by Retaliation and 10,000 years, but maybe later when someone puts up those songs on Youtube). This is epic!

What songs and bands have I overlooked for this? I bet there’s plenty. Sweden is just oozing with so much talent and so many great bands. Listen to the playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1-HqTl9SJKkER2dKbR2NWkE Add your songs and suggestions. Tack! SWEDEN

001 The Muppet Show - Swedish Chef goes bezerk in the kitchen 002 Grand Magus - Fear Is The Key 003 In Flames - Pinball Map 004 Entombed - Like This With The Devil 005 Soilwork - Figure Number Five 006 The Divine Comedy - Sweden 007 Bathory - Reaper 008 ABBA - Take a Chance On Me 009 Therion - Gothic Kabbalah 010 Moloko - Indigo 011 Katatonia - I Break 012 Opeth - The Baying Of The Hounds 013 Sabaton - Carolus Rex 014 Europe - Scream Of Anger 015 Jean-Louis Aubert - Stockholm 016 Blues Pills - Jupiter 017 Amon Amarth - The Pursuit of Vikings 018 Triakel - Alla Gossar (Swedish folk music ) 019 Arcana - As the End Draws Near 020 Kenta Guldkorn - Stockholm 021 Tiamat - Whatever That Hurts 022 AVATARIUM - The Starless Sleep 023 Spiritual Beggars - Star Born 024 Dismember - Dreaming In Red 025 Lasse Berghagen - Pomperipossa 026 In Solitude - Sister 027 Sahg III - Baptism of Fire 028 Ebba Grön - Mona Tumbas Slim Club 029 Nightingale - The Dreamreader 030 Roxette - Dressed For Success 031 Ghost - Rats 032 Yngwie J. Malmsteen – Far Beyond The Sun 033 Candlemass - Crystal Ball 034 Bathory - Under The Runes 035 Orup - Stockholm 036 Katla - Embryo 037 Pugh Rogefeldt - hog farm 038 Trees of Eternity - Gallows Bird (feat. Nick Holmes) 039 Paatos - Shame 040 THE STRANGLERS - SWEDEN 041 Katatonia - Brave 042 Brighter Death Now - No Salvation 043 Nationalteatern - Livet är en fest 044 Meshuggah - Bleed 045 Sir Douglas Quintet - Meet Me In Stockholm 046 Ulf Lundell - Stockholm City 047 In Mourning - Fire & Ocean 048 Dark Tranquillity - The Science Of Noise 049 Blue Swede - Hooked On a Feeling 050 Clawfinger - The Truth 051 John Coltrane - Dear Old Stockholm 052 The Hellacopters - In The Sign Of The Octopus 053 Hypocrisy - a coming race 054 Carola - Mig Var Du Står 055 Bloodbath - Let The Stillborn Come To Me 056 Vapnet - Stockholm sett snett uppifran 057 Mercy - Im Your Pervert Priest 058 The Spotnicks - Hava Nagila 059 Vanhelgd - Allt Hopp ar Fobi 060 Mammoth Storm - Fornjot 061 Vomitory - redemption 062 Entrails - No Cross Left Unturned 063 Virna Lindt - Attention Stockholm 064 Night - Fire Across the Sky 065 Dungen dar - Har du vart i Stockholm 066 The Hives - Hate To Say I Told You So 067 Sabaton - Gott Mit Uns 068 Svante Thuresson Och Totta Näslund - Stockholm Sweetnin' 069 Lake of Tears - To Blossom Blue 070 Scott Walker - The Seventh Seal 071 Garmarna - Vänner och fränder 072 Stockholms Negrer - Det förlovade landet 073 Thåström - Ballad om en gammal knarkare 074 The Haunted - Godpuppet 075 Ordo Equilibrio - The First Harvest 076 Therion - The Dreams Of Swedenborg 077 VINTERSORG - Fjällets mäktiga mur 078 Aeon - Aeons Black 079 Arckanum - Trulmælder 080 Edge of Sanity - Enigma 081 Scar Symmetry - The Illusionist 082 Tribulation - Melancholia 083 Witchcraft - It's Not Because Of You 084 At The Gates - At The Gates 085 Unleashed - The One Insane 086 Candlemass - ancient dreams 087 Hasse Andersson - Guld och grona skogar 088 Crucified Barbara - Electric Sky 089 Evergrey - The Grand Collapse 090 Lord Belial - Bleed on the Cross 091 Hedningarna - Räven 092 Dismember - Pieces (with intro) 093 Entombed - Sinners Bleed 094 MUSE - Stockholm Syndrome 095 Bathory - Valhalla 096 Gösta Berlings Saga - The Shortcomings Of Efficiency 097 Tiamat - The Ar 098 Oz - Turn the cross upside down 099 Grand Magus - I Am The North 100 Soilwork - Light The Torch 101 Spiritual Beggars - Fools Gold 102 Stuck In Motion - Moon 103 Cult of Luna - Receiver 104 Arcana - A Cage 105 Memento Mori - The Seeds of Hatred 106 Wolfbrigade - Barren Dreams 107 Dr Zeke - Jag Ska Aldrig Dö 108 Yngwie Malmsteen - gimme gimme gimme (your lust after midnight) 109 Arch Enemy - Pilgrim 110 Torch - Watcher Of The Night 111 Magic - Vi drar på disco 112 Refused - Elektra 113 Grave - Into The Grave 114 Lädernunnan - Ensam I Natt 115 The Orchard Enterprises - Fear Might Harm Self 116 Suma - Swordlord 117 Kulning - Ancient Swedish herdingcall 118 Bob Hund - Ska du hanga med Na 119 Dark Funeral - As One We Shall Conquer 120 Disfear - Get it off 121 Ghost - From The Pinnacle To The Pit 122 Morbus Chron - Chains 123 Heavy Load - Traveller 124 Therion - Tuna 1613 125 Entombed - Left Hand Path 126 Hearse - Mountain of the Solar Eclipse 127 Monolord - The Last Leaf 128 Night Viper - The Wolverine 129 Agrimonia - A World Unseen 130 Jonathan Hultén - Nightly sun 131 Diabolical Masquerade - Blackheim's Quest To Bring Back The Stolen Autumn 132 Army Of Lovers - Crucified 133 Dissection - Where Dead Angels Lie 134 Noctum _Liberty in Death 135 Europe - Open Your Heart 136 Darkane - Secondary Effects 137 Candlemass - Codex Gigas 138 Bathory - Enter Your Mountain 139 ABBA - Ring Ring (Bara du slog en signal) Swedish Version 140 Watain - Malfeitor 141 Louise Lemón - Devil 142 Cult Of Luna - Vague Illusions 143 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Black Box Messiah 144 Opeth - Nectar 145 Hills - Milarepa 146 Ceremonial Oath - The Book Of Truth 147 Dark Tranquillity - Silence And the Firmament Withdrew 148 Göteborg Sound - Björn Borg 149 In Flames - Reflect The Storm 150 MESHUGGAH - Demiurge 151 Expiremental Pop Band - Gothenburg 152 Millencolin - polar bears 153 Hedningarna - Pornopolka 154 Ratata - Ogon Av Is Liv Utan Spanning 155 OBSCURITY - Roses With Thorns 156 Nifelheim - Sodomizer 157 Soilwork - One With The Flies 158 Gardenian - Netherworld 159 Cemetary - Sundown 160 Månegarm - Hemfärd 161 Garmarna - Herr Mannelig 162 YE BANISHED PRIVATEERS - First Night Back In Port 163 VINTERSORG - Svältvinter 164 SNOWY SHAW - Nachtgeist 165 Moloken - The Titan Above Us 166 BEWITCHED - HARD AS STEEL (HOT AS HELL) 167 The Night Flight Orchestra - Green Hills Of Glumslov 168 Vanhelgd - Gravens Lovsång 169 Marduk - Christraping Black Metal 170 Garbochock - Streberbarn 171 Negative Self - Back On Track 172 Nightingale - Sleep 173 Iggy Pop - Five Foot One 174 Owe Thörnqvist - Varm korv boogie 175 Candlemass - Elephant Star 176 Tiamat - Cold Seed 177 Dismember - Shadowlands 178 Hypocrisy - Penetralia 179 Therion - Melez 180 Yngwie Malmsteen - You Dont Remember Ill Never Forget 181 Woven Hand - Swedish Purse 182 Roxette - Joyride 183 Wolf - Skeleton Woman 184 Europe - Seven doors hotel 185 ABBA - Me Knowing Knowing Youse 186 Opeth - Ghost Of Perdition 187 Katatonia - I Am Nothing 188 Sabaton - Uprising 189 Bathory - Total destruction 190 Cult Of Luna - Owlwood 191 Cortex - Warrior Night 192 Trettioåriga Kriget - Krigssång 193 Lee Hazlewood A House Safe for Tigers 194 Dead Sleep - Back to black 195 Greenleaf - Tides 196 The Crimson Shadows - When I'm Going Away 197 The Night Flight Orchestra - Transmissions 198 Anekdoten - Nucleus 199 Enhet För Fri Musik - Det Finns Ett Hjärta 200 In Flames - Jotun 201 Dungen - Ta det lugnt 202 Ghost - Ritual 203 Witchery - A Paler Shade of Death 204 Landberk - Tell 205 At The Gates - Blinded By Fear 206 Anna von Hausswolff - Epitaph of Theodor 207 Uran - Mr Piggy 208 Runemagick Remnants of the Old 209 SKÁLD - Flúga 210 Sacramentum - Far Away from the Sun 211 Dawn - Malediction Murder 212 Nifelheim - No more life 213 Craft - The Cosmic Sphere Falls 214 Solitude Aeturnus - Waiting for the Light 215 ARCH ENEMY - War Eternal 216 Nasum - Worldcraft 217 Insision - No Belief 218 The Oath - silk road 219 Shining - Förtvivlan Min Arvedel 220 Burst - I Exterminate The I 221 Bloodbound - Stormborn 222 Puissance - Love Incinerate 223 Electric Boys - All Lips 'n Hips 224 Exgenisis - Embers 225 Don Cherry - GamlaStan - The Old Town By Night 226 Raison D'etre - Sub Specie Aeternitatis 227 Bloodbath - Weak aside 228 Therion - Opus Eclipse 229 Cult of Luna - I: The Weapon 230 Marduk - The Sun Turns Black as Night 231 Ragnar Grippe - Symphonic Songs: Part 1 232 Unanimated - From a Throne Below 233 Entombed - Hollowman 234 Grande Royale - Royale 235 PAGANIZER - Soulless Feeding Machine 236 Bathory - Woman of Dark Desires 237 Paranorm - Critical Mass 238 Refused - The Deadly Rhythm 239 Golgata - Med din kyss kom mörkret 240 Ett Dödens Maskineri – ‘Låsta dörrar 241 MÖRK GRYNING - Fältherren 242 Daughter Chaos - The space born 243 BLUES PILLS - Rhythm In The Blood 244 LUCIFER - Ghosts 245 November - Mount Everest 246 Dissection - Night's Blood 247 Tøronto - Lights Out At Bedlam 248 ICE AGE - Breaking The Ice 249 Sweven - By Virtue of a Promise 250 Ghost- Year Zero 251 TRIBULATION - Strange Gateways Beckon 252 Drain S.T.H. - Crack the Liar´s Smile 253 Horisont - Odyssey 254 Witchcraft - Snake 255 Kirstie Sarboe - Ein Student Aus Uppsala 256 Sodomisery - Reapers Key 257 Opeth - Under The Weeping Moon 258 Olle Adolphson - Gustav Lindströms visa 259 Therion - The Wild Hunt 260 Bloodbath - Bloodicide 261 Bathory - The Golden Walls of Heaven 262 Soilwork - Follow the Hollow 263 Magnus Härenstam - Huddinge, Tullinge, Tumba 264 OBSTRUKTION - Hopeless Path 265 Amon Amarth - The Way Of Vikings 266 Anguish - When the Ancients Dare to Walk 267 Palme sköt först - Spiders 268 Totalitär - Allt Är Inom Dig 269 Vassago - Sign of Vassago 270 Larma - Elitens Eskapism 271 ENSNARED - Anti-Prophet 272 Third Storm - Forgotten Deity 273 Chronic Decay - Ecstasy In Pain 274 Transport League - Man Sized Drain 275 Nasum - mass hypnosis 276 Inevitable End - Memento 277 Candlemass - Dancing in the Temple (Of the Mad Queen Bee) 278 Gadget - Remote 279 Sayyadina - Nothing 280 Coldworker - The Contaminated Void 281 Katatonia - Teargas 282 In Flames - Dead God in Me 283 Trial - Motherless 284 Watain - Satan's Hunger 285 Bewitched - Rise Of The Antichrist 286 Shining - Jag Är Din Fiende 287 In Solitude - Witches Sabbath 288 Comecon - The House That Man Built 289 Marduk - The Black Tormentor of Satan 290 Lifelover - M/s salmonella 291 Naglfar - Enslave the Astral Fortress 292 Sacrilege - Sweet Moment of Triumph 293 Spiritual Beggars - Monster Astronauts 294 Massgrav - Det Här Är Stockholm 295 IRON LAMB - Backstabbers 296 The Hives - Tick Tick Boom 297 Candlemass - Dark Reflections 298 Megatomb - Forbidden Altar 299 Entrails - Condemned to the Grave 300 Katatonia - Gateways of Bereavement 301 Träd, Gräs och Stenar - Sanningens Silverflod (Djungelns Lag) 302 Hammerfall - Let the Hammer Fall 303 Obnoxious Youth - Mouths Sewn Shut 304 GRAND MAGUS - Wolf God 305 Dark Funeral - Unchain my soul 306 Entombed - Say it in slugs 307 Amon Amarth - Runes to My Memory 308 Ghost - Absolution 309 Hypocrisy - Dominion 310 Edge of Sanity - Darkday 311 Orbit Culture - North Star of Nija 312 Cemetary - Caress the Damned 313 DOZER - Through The Eyes Of Heathens 314 Grave - Now and Forever 315 ARCH ENEMY - Bury Me An Angel 316 Skraeckoedlan - Universam 317 Cult of Luna - I remember 318 Doris Svensson - Did You Give The World Some Love Today, Baby 319 Svard - A Rift in the Green 320 Evergrey - Monday Morning Apocalypse 321 Lightbringer - Lightbringer in Sweden 322 Bastard Priest - ghouls of the endless night 323 Westkust - Cotton Skies 324 Maggot Heart - sex breath 325 Abruptum - De Profundis Mors Vas Consumet 325 Raised Fist - Flow 326 Makthaverskan - Antabus 327 Eternal of Sweden - Heaven's gate 328 Wolfbrigade - Fire Untamed 329 Fyfan - Intrangd Och Instangd 330 Opeth - Svekets prins 331 Martyrdöd - Hexhammeren 332 The Haunted - Liquid Burns 333 Dismember - Override of the Overture 444 Bathory - Under the Runes 666 Dark tranquillity - A Bolt of Blazing Gold

Play the songs here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1-HqTl9SJKkER2dKbR2NWkE

Next edition of Sweden playlist will have tracks from: God Macabre, Deutsch Nepal , Retaliation, In Slaughter Natives and 10,000 Years.

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mysticelf · 2 years

Text

Catharsis

“Are we there, yet?”

“Almost.”

Early morning dew clung against plants in fresh droplets, accenting the natural rhythm and hushed tones of leaves swaying in the breeze. Old stone paths, long overgrown yet still traversed, offered little navigation between thick trunks.

The occasional call of denizens that resided in such nature echoed over the hills, a tranquility that eluded a wondrous illusion atop the grief-stricken and bloodied grounds that vines had long grown over.

Bits of wood and fencing began to line the trail. Shuffling pairs of footsteps slowly came to a halt before a crumbled and charred gateway, long forgotten and intertwined with the forest reclaiming its land.

Nimble fingers grasped around knotted wood of a staff that offered support for the long trek throughout the ancient land. Silence and stillness. A heaviness unlike any other struck against a core of willpower and threatened to shatter it.

Smaller, more innocent fingers grasped against the sleeve of robes.

“Min’di…”

Cela’nea’s consideration broke the chain of doubt threatening to creep through and tarnish the efforts that laid before them.

“It is okay…Do you wish to continue?”

Azura offered a faint, somber smile as the posed question left her lips. Dark hues met bright ones, and both heads of silver tresses were caressed by the passing breeze. An encouragement of sorts.

“Yes.”

Two more steps forward crossed the threshold of the gate..into the heart. Echoes of memory given physical form began to appear in ancient wooden structures, charred and overgrown much like the gate…broken pieces of pottery scattered through the path…a small well tumbled over and more of a trail mark than refreshment.

There was a stillness that enveloped the space. Despite the usual wilderness calls and butterflies that mingled with the dancing breezes and blossoming flowers that curled in delight under the rising rays of sunlight through trees.

It was empty.

Bright eyes gave away the awe and trepidation that Cela’nea felt. She hasn’t been old enough to recall the full glory of what life once enveloped the space she and Azura traversed…there were clear reminders yet no answers. Her hand gently ran along a broken fence and the curling vines.

Theril’sar.

Falling forward, she kept pace with Azura’s lead. Her mother had barely spoken and the sunken cheeks with glittering eyes seemed to hold a certain sorrow that couldn’t be placed. It was only glimpsed at, for when she turned to face Cela’nea, only maternal warmth and perhaps tiredness were allowed to shine through.

“Just up the path here…watch your step, Cela.”

Old ruins of buildings were left behind as the two trekked towards overgrown foliage. It all seemed to simply be unruly wilderness thriving in a desolate landmark that no longer controlled its will. However, there was the faint remnant of a trail leading away from the husk of the village and to a small clearing nearby.

Unlike the village remnants…the clearing seemed to be more looked after and tended to in recent times. A few small, twisting trees held charms in their brachial. Carved stones lined against the base of trunks and throughout. Bigger stones sat at the head of smaller mounds, carefully crafted and lined with rocks and flowers.

The air was thicker…thrumming with a serene energy that gave sacred simplicity. Cela’nea swallowed as the stones passed by. Names and souls cherished in memory..

Slow, deliberate steps waded through the grounds as the two approached their final destination. One of the trees had three gravestones beneath it, each with a special bush and flower alongside charms and handcrafted mementos. It was here they stopped.

When Azura had asked a few nights ago whether or not Cela was keen on taking a trip somewhere….The tentative request of Ashenvale was not expected. Surprise etched into understanding as the girl went to explain that…she wanted to make her own marks, if acceptable to do so.

Standing before the stones with vaguely familiar names and bonds…They knelt. Items were taken from a satchel in ritualistic practice to honor the time and space. Incense was lit—faint wisps curling in the air. Hands and palms met in a single clap, murmurs of Darnassian carried throughout the clearing to invoke ancestral connection and blessing.

Time was taken to truly…observe. Azura seemed to keep her eyes closed for the longest of time with a deep, shivering breath taken in. The first stone was larger than the rest, swirls of patterns carved into a large tree of life with the antlers of a stag charm wrapped around the base.

Orenlian Duskwalker

The second stone was slightly smaller, clouds with sparks of lightning carved in intricate detail through the stone. A charm of a silver coin hung around it.

Meladryn Stormweaver

The final stone was the smallest. Carvings of intertwining flowers and a single hummingbird nestled in one of the blossoms. A necklace of silver with a tiny moonstone pendant was wrapped around the base.

Lysaelia Duskwalker

Gentle hands embraced Cela’nea’s own, guiding to take out the final items within the satchel. A small butterfly pendant with moon steel and opal, and a carving whittled from pine—of a bear. They were held in a reverent gaze for a time, blurred by the misting eyes that were quickly beginning to stain the cheeks of both visitors.

“Place them when you are ready, kalla.”

Azura’s murmurs followed the thumb brushing at Cela’nea’s cheek despite her own sorrows openly gleaming in the light. The young girl swallowed thickly and curled her fingers around the mementos. After a few moments…In a surprisingly steady gesture…they were placed between the stones.

Eralia Duskwalker and Farendil Autumnstar

Arms wrapped around one another upon the devastating sense of sorrowful catharsis that completed the shrine. It was more than welcomed to be released - melding tears and soft cries joined in a grounding embrace. Azura’s hand rubbed in gentle motions against Cela’nea with the melancholic melody of a Darnassian song hummed.

Midnight hues of pooling water flashed in a myriad of emotions when they pulled back to look at bright, equally fervent ones.

“I have…We have lost much, kalla. But we have one another..and no matter the trials and mistakes made, I am always here for you. Even in my shortcomings…Your happiness is all that matters, for seeing you thrive makes my heart swell in pride and relief. Know that, Cela’nea.”

A choked sob responded in kind, the girl squeezing herself tighter in the embrace and hiccuping through the overwhelming emotions that gripped her. Silver tresses shook.

“You and An’di..have given me everything and more. We’ll be okay and..and we’ll always have each other. That’s all we need..right?”

A cutting pain flashed through Azura’s core, reflected in the darkening sorrow that laced tears among her cheeks. A small, weak smile still managed to push through with the kiss upon Cela’nea’s forehead and croaked words eluded to those unspoken.

“That is all we need.”

#writing #azura duskwalker #cela’nea duskwalker #azura ravenoak #eralia duskwalker #orenlian Duskwalker #meladryn stormweaver #lysaelia Duskwalker #farendil autumnstar #melancholy hill time

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