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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

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Edge of Forever

BTS Space!AU [ ♧ ✪ ✿ ☆ ❂ ☾✘ ] “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” The stage is set and the stars are the guide for the lost souls that have congregated to one point. A fixed constant in the universe for others to discover and fulfill their wishes but will it come to ruin for others?

Pairings: Jin x OC | Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Space!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language

AO3

Chapter 2- Unrest in the House of Light

"The time is coming that I must warn you And though it's something that you may not understand they can't be saved by just one man"

Nyala stood nearly a foot taller than most people, her dark skin a stark contrast to the red tint in her eyes. It was a trait of her people, some called them demons but the Ifrit people didn’t care too much about what others called them. What did matter was their innate knowledge of different cultures, making them perfect negotiators. Between the unnerving stare of Ifrit and the smooth-talking of said creature--Nyala was able to acquire what she was after. The identity of several people that would be able to help her, for better or for worse.

She approached the bar of the third contact that she had, the sliver amount of hope was slowly dying as she met with each person. The first one was a drunkard and the second one only wanted about 100 thousand Credits. She was being hunted for the Pirates, not made of money or even interested in giving the hulking man a good time.

She surveyed the patrons in the bar while she waited for both her drink and the contact. Nyala meddled with the stick that was placed in the drink when it was placed in front of her, hoping that the dread feeling in her stomach would go away soon because that usually meant that trouble was just around the corner. The bar was pretty popular with the populous which made her a bit nervous being around so many eyes that could report back to her pursuers. Plus, doing businesses in a place like that? Seemed a bit strange for someone to do, even more so with the Federation Division lurking about to eagerly arrest someone. More so if they proved to be non-human but that was another debate for her people for another day.

She checked her holo-watch for what seemed like the 50th time. If he was going to be late, she should have received communications--unless it was a trap for her.

The man she was supposed to meet was called Jungkook, a decorated human with a soft side for weapons. That she could provide or even make if he so wished but the likelihood of that happening was becoming slim to none. Halfway through her drink, she noticed that the same familiar gut feeling that had been brewing that night as it had been since striking out with the Android and the ship. There was someone there that wished her ill and she couldn’t pinpoint it among all the patrons. Which meant that where she was; it was a trap that she had willingly walked into. And it all started when she noticed that the bartender suddenly stiffened with the appearance of a group of people.

That was when all Hell broke loose.

The moment that she saw the marking on their foreheads, the creatures snapped their heads in her direction and intoned in their mechanical voices that she surrender. The creatures were grown from a lab as foot soldiers and stamped with the Trigram symbol: Mountain. It was one of the Exalted that had sent their foot soldiers after her. And as far as Nyala’s knowledge went, each sect had their limbs grown with aspects of themselves. While she had her own secrets, she didn’t claim to know each and every one of theirs. She jumped out of her chair as the soldiers took aim, shooting holes in everything they could see. Nyala started to chant, the red in her eyes as the focus of her Chi energy instead of making flashy hand symbols or staying still.

No, she learned to move and channel her energies--which proved to save her very life that night. As Nyala moved, she found a space in the back that led up to the second floor of the bar. Using all of her body, she threw some of the items down the stairs to create a barrier or at least some type of obstruction for them to meddle over while she ran. The Chi energy was directed to her entire back, as a form of a shield so that way she wouldn’t get shot in the back as she escaped. Just like some of the ones that were chasing her, she also had the ability to utilize some of the same techniques as they did.

Taking a moment, she looked around to her surroundings to see if there was anything that she could use. There were a few patrons up there, looking at her with shocked faces as she ran through. There wasn’t any time to calm them down as she could hear the movements of the soldiers sifting through the debris she created. Climbing through a window, she saw that there was an adjacent building she could possibly jump to but it seemed a little out of reach. She didn’t get a chance to debate it when some of the soldiers broke through and fired at her. However, the rounds that they were then using weren’t of the bullet kind.

It was then that she knew which of the Exalted puppet’s that she was dealing with. These were the berserkers, the ones that would set the world on fire if they could: Ravi’s underlings. They could harness their own spark to create fire or explosions, a preference that would be acceptable to the pyromaniac himself. The explosion launched Nyala out of the window and broke her shield, leaving a sizable hole in the building as well as leaving several things on fire. She missed grabbing onto the other building and fell downwards, rolling when she made contact with the ground. Her shoulder was dislocated, she could tell and as she hobbled up; the others were already looking for her.

Spotting some of the back alleyways, she made her way through some of them as she clenched her jaw in pain. She had to focus or she was going to die!

Nyala hobbled through another way, going right in hopes of losing them but found her way blocked. She straightened herself up as much as possible and started to chant again, having to go on the offensive. She wouldn’t use her Ace just yet, preferring to delve into her stores of willpower and energy instead of those. Her chanting grew louder as they advanced on her, one in particular stepping forward to demand her surrender. Another piped up with his demand of Lirael and the Antares. She cursed at them in her native language as she let loose the ripple effect of her own Chi, her own brand of Tao Magic. The electric current that leaped from her fingertips danced and used the others’ bodies as a conduit to travel to the next, heat and energy sizzling their bodies as they screamed. She had called forth the Lightning Dragon from her arsenal to defend and decimate.

Still, it wasn’t quite enough when some of them leapt from the hightops and directly at her. A yell suddenly pierced through the commotion as a body jumped forward to knock itself into the ones that were coming down upon Nyala. A growl could be heard, making the hairs on her arms stand all the way up. The light from the Dragon only lit up so much of the space that was there but what she could see clearly was that it was a woman shorter than her, they all were to be honest but it was the ears that gave it away. Nyala directed the Dragon to some of the other soldiers there, creating more of the electric current and more light for them to see by. The other woman gave heavy blows to the creatures, snarling and throwing them away like they were rag dolls. Elbows, knees and heavy-handed claws tore through the masses with no signs of stopping or even slowing down.

Sirens could be heard and it made the minions stop for a moment, all looking in the direction of which they came from. They each made a strange, metallic noise as they communicated between themselves before jumping away from the both of them. Nyala sighed and dissipated the Dragon, sliding down against the nearest wall in relief. The woman came up to her and put a heavy hand on her shoulder, the crystal orbs almost shining like a diamond being held up to a light when she bent down to peer at her. Suddenly a grin could be seen, flashing some of her canines when she smiled. The Mao woman reached down and grabbed Nyala, pulling her up with barely a grunt. Before she could protest, she was helped away from the scene and almost thrown into a hovercar.

“Who are you?” Nyala called out as the Mao woman walked around the car to inspect it for any damages. All she got in return was another grin, which did nothing for her nerves. Still, there wasn’t anything that she could sense about the woman that could suggest that she was after her life. So, that aspect would have to do for her right then as the woman came back up to her once she had finished her rounds of the car.

“Hmmm. I guess you can call me a hater of pirates! Plus you smell interesting and like to get stuff blown up! My name is Vairuit and I’m going to fix your shoulder.”

Vairuit’s hands shot out and grabbed Nyala’s arm as well as the shoulder. She gave a sudden jerk which made her cry out in pain but the very audible crack could be heard when it was back in place. The throb of pain radiated through her chest, neck, and back but at least she could move it more. She nearly fell over from the relief but the Mao woman reached over again and buckled her in before sliding across the hood to her door. The car roared to life and peeled out of the area before any more intruders could come and talk to them.

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

At the bar, there stood a tall but younger looking Human with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He frowned as he surveyed the damage done to the bar that he was supposed to meet his contact. However, that wasn’t what bothered him about the situation. Some of the bodies there were what did it for him, his sharp eyes catching the fact that there was a Pirate symbol on their foreheads. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and tried to see everything that he could before slipping away from the pedestrians that had crowded around the area.

The Federation’s pigs were crawling all over the area, looking and interrogating the patrons that were there but he knew that most of them either wouldn’t talk or were genuinely confused. It was a bar that he frequented along with his partner and they usually had jobs for them, like that night. On his way around, he gave a nod to the bartender and disappeared from everyone’s view in order to assess things for himself. There was a feeling, almost like a trail that he could follow to the back alleyways. The pigs hadn’t gotten back there yet so most of it was untainted, the still sizzling energy that was left in the air was what he was following. He found more of the soldiers dead there on the ground, his hand reaching out to touch the symbol but he could still feel the electricity on it.

The frown deepened as he looked around from his crouched position, noting what all happened. There was a Tao user that had gotten attacked there and the appearance of the Pirates there bothered him greatly. However, the user didn’t use any type of slashing techniques that he could tell. Standing up, he tapped his ear which produced a screen over his left eye where he could see his partner.

“Yah! You scared me! How dare you? I could have been cooking!”

“Jin, we have pirates here. I think the client got away but they carved up a good chunk of the bar.” He stopped the other from going on a full-blown rant, taking a breath before continuing. “I think they were from the Armada. I’m sending the information now but I think that we really need to find the client before a whole sect drops down on us.”

The man on the other side of the communications grew quiet, his normally jovial face becoming quite serious. The hardened look was one that he’d seen before but that was in the past. The younger man’s heart dropped at the sight of his face, the pale eyes that flashed as they worked. He would keep him safe if it meant his life.

“I’ll keep an eye out on things but come back for right now. I don’t want you arrested or anything for being out there and I’ll have the ship running hot--just in case.”

He gave a wry smile before disconnecting the device. The man once again disappeared into the shadows, something that he had grown accustomed to from back in the day.

#bts #Edge of Forever #space!au #BTS jungkook #BTS jin

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aswithasunbeam · 5 years

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Home, a Hamliza fic

[Read on AO3]

Rated: General Audiences

Summary: "This morning my beloved Eliza I leave Albany for Claverack, my health greatly mended and I hope to make but a short stay there. My plan is to go to Poughkepsie and there embark. I shall be glad to find that my dear little Philip is weaned, if circumstances have rendered it prudent. It is of importance to me to rest quietly in your bosom. Adieu my beloved." -Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton, October 1803

Alexander arrives home from his trip in the fall of 1803 and enjoys his longed for quiet, peaceful moment with his beloved wife. __ Sweet Hamliza and Hamilton Family Fluff

The Grange, November 1803

Eliza lay still in the dark, fists gripping at her blankets and heart pounding in her chest as she strained to hear over the noise of the storm. Rain roared against the roof, loud as a waterfall, making it impossible to listen for the subtle sound that had first roused her, but she’d have sworn she heard the front door opening. No one in the house would be going out at this time of night, and in this weather no less. Could they have an intruder?

Footsteps carried up from the stairs, soft at first, then growing louder. The rhythm, martial and familiar, made her sigh with relief. Pushing her blankets aside, she slid from the bed and peeked out into the hallway. She could see the golden light of a candle dancing in the stairway, just out of sight.

“Alexander?”

Sure enough, his distinctive profile emerged at the head of the stairs. He looked pale in the candlelight, his hair and clothes sodden from the rain. His breath sounded heavier than usual from the stairs. A smile brightened his face, though, the corners of his eyes bunching. “My beloved Betsey.”

“You’re soaked,” she said. “Did you take the wagon all the way from the city?”

“I wanted to be home.” When she sighed at him, his smile widened. “Would you have rather I stayed in town? Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“You know I did,” she said, stepping closer to pull him into an embrace. She’d been frantic with worry over him through his whole trip up to Albany. An attack of stomach spasms had made him so ill and weak before he left he could hardly sit up, and his letters home to her had made it clear he’d remained under the weather for the duration of his travels. Having him back safe in her arms released a knot of anxiety she’d been carrying in her chest. “I always want to be with you. But I’d just as soon have you warm and dry, especially when you’ve been sick.”

“I’m better now,” he said.

She leaned back to scrutinize his face, then gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you?”

“Mostly,” he amended. “So long as I don’t eat anything.”

And he wondered why she worried over him. Shaking her head, she leaned up to give him a kiss. She could feel the damp from his clothes soaking into her nightgown where they were pressed together. “You need to change. You’ll catch your death in those wet things.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

She stroked a hand over his cheek, a hint of rough stubble scratching lightly at her palm. “I’ll go fetch you a towel and some tea. That should help get some warmth back into you.”

“What ever would I do without you, my angel,” he whispered near her ear, stealing another kiss before pulling away, surrendering the candle to her as he did.

She hurried down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. Efficiently setting the kettle to boil, she pulled some towels from the linen closet and started to set up a tray to bring up to him. He must have spent the better part of the day traveling, she guessed, which meant he likely hadn’t eaten much, if anything. Some bread and cheese joined the pot of piping hot chamomile tea, all simple fare for his delicate digestion.

Giggles and soft chatter carried down from the second floor as she made her way back to him. Though the children ought to have been asleep, she couldn’t help smiling at their joyous sounds. The whole house had a heartbeat when Alexander was at home, a thrum of life that only came with his presence no matter how many visitors, cheery games, and silly stories tried to fill the void he left.

“And then we went down to the dock with our fishing poles,” she heard William saying breathlessly, no doubt trying to cram in a report of every moment his father had missed. Candlelight spilled out of the boys’ bedroom at the end of the hall.

She placed the tray on the bedside table of the master bedroom and looked in vain for Alexander’s wet clothing. He must not have changed before waking up the little ones, she realized with a heavy frown. Laying the towels on the bed, she started for the boys’ bedroom.

“I shot a duck with your hunting rifle, Papa,” Jamie interrupted William, voice filled with pride. “We had it for dinner last night. Mr. Morton went out with us, and Mama said I could use it if I was careful—”

“Papa, Papa,” William insisted, barreling over Jamie’s story. Eliza paused in the doorway and saw William had attached himself to Alexander’s hip, squeezing him tight in an embrace. “I caught a really big fish, Papa. The biggest ever.”

“That’s wonderful, Jamie,” Alexander said.

“That fish was tiny,” Johnny contradicted William at the same time, staring jealously at his younger brother from his bed. “Alex told you it was so small you could have used it for bait.”

“You’re supposed to embellish, John. That’s the fun of a fish story,” Alexander said, good humor infusing his voice as he hugged William to him with one arm.

“Hi Mama,” Alex said, looking around his father to her.

Alexander looked around and gave her a sheepish smile. “I was only going to poke my head in. They were already awake, I swear.”

“The rain is loud,” William said, by way of explanation.

“I know,” Alexander agreed, swinging William up into his arms to the boy’s great delight. “Much more of it and I would have been able to swim home.”

“Will you tell a story, Papa?” Johnny requested, hugging his knees up to his chest as Alexander placed William back on his bed.

“Yeah, a story!” William agreed, bouncing excitedly on his mattress.

“Papa needs to change out his wet clothes,” Eliza said, “Or he’s going to catch cold.”

“I’ll tell a story tomorrow,” Alexander promised, kissing William on the forehead and moving over to Johnny to kiss him as well.

“You’ll have to tell two stories,” Johnny said. “If you make us wait, you’ll owe interest.”

Alexander gave a snort of amusement even as he nodded, glancing over at her in shared mirth. “All right then, two stories.” He finished kissing the boys good night, and said as he tapped the door closed, “Good night my little lambs.”

“Night, Papa,” came back in a responding chorus.

“I owe them interest,” Alexander said sotto voce as they moved back towards the master bedroom, his chest vibrating with silent laughter.

“He’s definitely your son,” she said, grinning as well.

His laughter mixed with a rough cough as he headed for the dressing room, plucking up a towel from the bed and peeling off his coat as went.

Her smile dimmed at the sound. “I told you to change right away,” she scolded gently.

“You think I caught a chill in the intervening five minutes?” he asked, amusement still audible.

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her from the dressing room. Pouring out his tea for him, she said, “I brought you up some things, when you’ve finished changing.”

“Is one of them a new digestive system?”

She smiled wryly and shook her head. “Alas, no.”

“Disappointing.”

“How did your arbitration go?” she asked.

He grunted and muttered something about childish nonsense. That well, then. He gave another cough and emerged in his nightshirt, ruffling the towel over his now loose hair. “What’d you bring me?”

“Tea, bread, and some cheese.” He wrinkled his nose. “You need to eat. And I don’t like the sound of that cough. I really wish you’d waited until tomorrow to come home.”

He sighed as he sat heavily on the bed. “I wanted my own bed.”

“The bed in town is yours, as much as this one.”

“It’s not my bed if you’re not in it,” he retorted.

“You’re immensely frustrating,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “But you’re cute.”

He smiled smugly.

She handed him the tea, and sat beside him while he drank and made an effort on the food. When he coughed yet again, she rubbed a hand over his back. He’d just barely recovered from being ill; she hated to think he’d contracted something else on his travels. “How long have you been coughing?”

“I don’t know.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I feel like I’m falling apart in my old age.”

“Your old age? You talk like you’re a hundred.”

“I feel like I’m a hundred.”

There was a slump to his shoulders she hadn’t noticed until now, a thinly veiled melancholy appearing in his eyes. He’d written to her once that he felt a more than usual gloom at the bottom of his soul,1 and the poetic phrase had stuck in her mind. However outwardly cheerful he appeared, a latent sadness lurked within him, and only seemed to grow as time rendered it’s blows upon them.

She scooted backward on the bed to kneel behind him. His white shirt was damp from his skin, translucent enough that she could see some of his darker freckles through the thin material. She traced her fingers across his back in familiar constellations: a diamond over his left shoulder, a castle turret over his right shoulder blade, a strangely shaped key along his spine. She’d memorized those patterns in the earliest days of their marriage, gazing at his body with sleepy wonder the way she’d gazed at clouds as a young girl.

He melted under her touch.

“Has Phil been weened?” he asked, eyelids drooping.

“Yes,” she said. Her fingers went to his hair as he pushed backwards and sideways, pinning her down against the pillows with his head pressed to her sternum. She’d been too sore for him to lie like this while she was nursing Phil, but it had always been his favorite position, offering, as he phrased it, a sweet asylum from care and pain.2

He relaxed against her and hummed with contentment.

“I planted the apple trees like you asked,” she said.

“Hopefully they won’t have floated away,” he quipped.

“And Tuff finished the temporary fence.”3

He yawned. “We’ll walk over tomorrow and take a look, if the rain lets up.”

The wind howled eerily over the general roar of the rain, knocking the shudders together as it beat against the house. The whole second floor swayed under the force. Alexander must have felt her tense, because he shifted his head to press a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“Not to worry, my love. Just the wind. It’s no match for our house.” He always spoke of the Grange with such pride, she considered, as though he’d laid each brick and beam with his own two hands.

“No,” she agreed, gathering him closer to her. “No match at all.”

Despite the mighty gale, the shudders held fast and the walls stood firm, keeping the storm at bay.

#hamilton fanfic #hamliza #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #alexander hamilton jr.#james alexander hamilton #john church hamilton #william s hamilton #hamilton family fluff #short and sweet

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pricechecktranslations · 5 years

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TTDS: The Three Daughters of Sir Torture; Chapter 2

Torture Tower Doesn’t Sleep: The Three Daughters of Sir Torture infomine under the cut

Character Info:

Beritoodo (Beritoad): His animal form is a red toad.

Chenbaren (Chamberlain): A very wealthy merchant in Lion City (no first name given). He owned a coal mine that was found to have diamonds in it (which is where their wealth stems from). He capitalized on the wealth he’d gained to fund new business ventures that kept him rich even after the diamond mine was depleted. He has two kids he loves dearly, and in fact became bedridden from grief after his son grew ill.

Danii Chenbaren (Danny Chamberlain): The younger brother of the Chamberlain siblings, grown into a wise young man. He is the one slated to inherit his father’s business, but has recently fallen to illness (really Ian poisoning him) and given six months to live.

Ian (Ian): Cousin of Danny and Cynthia. He’s also the family doctor. He pretends to care very dearly for his family (and, uh, Cynthia in particular), but in point of fact is a backstabbing, poisoning, rotten scoundrel who was only interested in taking the family fortune for himself. He has a swept-back hairstyle. Claims he graduated from the best medical school in the country. Has pale white skin and an unmanly delicate frame.

Jibetto (Gibbet): Likes black tea, as she finds it calming. Her role is to kidnap new victims for the tower (also silly me, I just realized the cage thing that caught Lloyd is. Well. A gibbet). Wants to always have flowers around her, or else she’ll become depressed. She excels at being able to judge people’s true personalities, either as a result of her experience seeing people’s suffering, or as a talent she’s always had (she’s not sure which). The only one that sleeps. She’s also the most responsible (ex, doesn’t necessarily agree with Rack’s impractical, childish way of doing things but doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to impede on her role).

Meiden (Maiden): Often the one to undertake the tower’s repairs. A girl of few words. Apparently, she’ll lose the form she has if she were to leave the tower. Her job is to kill prisoners once they are broken beyond the point of suffering. Doesn’t sleep. The strongest of the girls (overpowered, really).

Rakku (Rack): Never sleeps. According to Gibbet, if she leaves the tower she’ll lose her current form. She’s usually the one to undertake the tower’s cleaning. She’s the one whose actually job it is to torture people. She has a very childish and sadistic personality, preferring to play with her prey to witness their suffering and fear.

Shinshia Chenbaren (Cynthia Chamberlain): Fun note, this can also be written as “sincere”. The eldest of Chamberlain’s children, and a beautiful young lady (she was very young during the Diamond Boom). Has no interest in her father’s business. She’s gotten to be a little bit too close with her cousin Ian (and by that I mean they act more like they’re dating than family, though nothing explicit is said outside of Gibbet’s observations).

Setting Info:

Daiyakeiki (Diamond Boom): Referring to a brief period of time when Lion City flourished with wealth as a result of Chamberlain’s diamond mine.

Rionshiti (Lion City): Has coal mines to the north of town. One of them was found to be a diamond mine, which made the city wealthy for a time until the mine dried up not a full decade later.

Toruchiatou (Torcia Tower): The fifth floor has 4 rooms. Two of them are locked, and the girls don’t have the key. One of the others is a storage room for the torture implements. And the other is a place of worship for their god (this is the one in the center of the floor), where the Pot of Basuzu is. To the right of the shrine are stairs leading to the roof. The tower is sort of infused with death—it kills things that are in it, such as flowers.

Notable Quotes:

“What’s…that…?” Not really a great quote, but it’s Cynthia’s last words.

Plot Summary:

Scene 1

A character (doesn’t say who but it’s Gibbet) is recalling that they’ve been dreaming about a boy and girl they don’t know, a field of flowers, and a bracelet made with a flower (flowers?).

Scene 2

Gibbet is having tea in Torcia’s place of worship. Rack comes down from the roof, and they chat a little, before Maiden shows up, having finished repairs. She tells them they’re almost out of quicklime, so Gibbet says she’ll buy some in town. They talk a little more before Gibbet finishes her tea and gets up to leave.

Beritoad’s voice calls to them from the shrine, informing them that a young man and woman are on the tower’s first floor. They have no weapons—only a hunting knife. People Gibbet talked to the other day at Stella’s bar.

Rack is disappointed—she’d wanted to cut loose with them, but they sound harmless. Though, that kind of thing is why Maiden had to do repairs. They talk a little more, and I think it’s established that Lloyd (they don’t say his name but still) escaped by blowing a hole in the wall and jumping out of it.

They talk a bit more, Gibbet expressing her contempt for humanity and conviction that they can’t stop them, etc. Beritoad’s voice confirms her convictions (they’re better than humans and their sacrifices only increase his and their power), and tells them to go on and get more sacrifices for him.

Scene 3

The girls go to the torture device storage room to select what they’ll use this time. The chapter is mostly exposition on who they are and their role—they just woke up in the storage room with no memory of who they were, and it was Beritoad (their “god”) who informed them that they were torture devices, that Hank was their “father”, that their job was to kill people after torturing them to increase Beritoad’s power to bring Hank back, etc.

They don’t know how they became human or anything like that, though.

Gibbet takes an iron mask for her tool.

Scene 4

This section has a lot of exposition on the Chamberlain family, which is mostly written above but papa Chamberlain calls Cynthia his most precious diamond b’awwww. It talks about how Danny fell ill, and Ian and Cynthia are desperately looking for a cure.

Three months in (ie, three months until Danny kicks it), she happens to meet Gibbet at Stella’s Bar, who tells her about the Pot of Basuzu. Gibbet promised to secretly share the water from the pot with her, hence what she and Ian are doing at the tower.

Scene 5

A little bit on Gibbet and flowers (her flowers wilt before they’ve even started drooping, despite constant care), and then on to her waiting for the intruders on the second floor. Cynthia is happy to see her, and they exchange pleasantries (they tried ringing the bell but no one answered so they came in) before taking them to the third floor to see the pot.

She waits for an opportunity to set the trap, seeing Rack looking down on them from the atrium hole. While feigning concern, she needles at Ian a little bit for fun (mostly on that he’s the only doctor who’s seen to Danny’s condition), having already guessed his true nature.

They talk a little about the tower’s architecture and its history as a torture tower (which upsets Cynthia). Soon enough they’re positioned right under the atrium hole in the ceiling, but Gibbet is stalled by feeling someone’s gaze on her (one that disgusts her more than the victim from the prologue looking at her boobs). It’s Ian.

Gibbet chooses now to spring the trap. Ian and Cynthia freak out as they suddenly have the metal masks that Gibbet chose earlier clapped on their faces (medieval torture pig masks, which make it so you can’t talk, hear, or see, though among all the devices in the tower these are the least painful and Gibbet only uses it every now and then because she feels sorry for it).

As a note, all the girls while inside the tower can summon torture devices at will.

As Gibbet is making them float up to the third floor, Rack leaps down from the hole in the ceiling, having lost patience. She’s using a cat-o-nine tails (whip with multiple heads and, unlike a real one, star blades on the ends) today, as Josephine “seems unwell”. Gibbet sets them down again, and Rack takes to whipping them.

She calls the “painting” that she makes on Ian’s back (blood and scratches) “Man of Budding Stardust” (星屑スターの萌え男, not too sure on the translation). She asks for Gibbet to take the masks off so she can see them suffering (even though they’re suffering more with them on).

With the mask off, Cynthia (who’s freaking out with no comprehension of the situation) runs to Ian’s side. Rack strikes again—but it hits Cynthia, as Ian used her as a human shield. The two of them run for the third floor, Rack leisurely following suit (she even starts counting to 10 like it’s a game of tag).

Scene 6

Now it’s like a game of hide-and-seek, with Rack looking through the rooms for the two. Rack asks Gibbet to wait by the stairs so that they can’t run back down to the second floor.

With nothing to do, Gibbet recalls the dream she had this morning, with the boy and girl and the flowers, etc. The boy in the dream is the one who made the bracelet, and gave it to the girl. He said something to her, but Gibbet doesn’t know what. She’s had the dream a lot lately, and is always irritated and disturbed when she wakes up from it. Beritoad said that Gibbet needing sleep is a penalty for being the one to go out of the tower.

Gibbet hears the sound of one of her flower pots shattering, and realizes that they’ve run up to the fourth floor. If they run into Maiden up there, she’ll kill them, which is bad because they’ve hardly been tortured yet.

Gibbet goes up to the fourth floor and finds Ian, stabbed and dead, and Cynthia covered in blood standing over him with a knife (the illustration does not show her covered in blood, so apparently Maruino has something in common with Ichika). Her makeup is running from tears, and she murmurs madly that she was deceived, that Ian was poisoning Danny, etc.

Gibbet summons a gibbet (described as a mass of wires unfurling into a cage) and catches Cynthia, who’s just babbling about Danny repeatedly. She’s wearing a crude wooden bracelet, possibly a present from Danny, which reminds Gibbet of her dream (specifically, the words “little brother” and “present”).

Scene 7

Gibbet realizes she’s lost consciousness, and Cynthia has escaped. While she’s wondering what the heck just happened, Rack shows up and chews her out for leaving her position at the stairs and for letting one of them die. Then they run to chase Cynthia.

Scene 8

Cynthia is pretty much out of it, having suffered such severe emotional trauma. Yet she pushes on, determined to get the Pot of Basuzu in order to save Danny. She’s reached the worship room (chapel perhaps might be a better word).

She finds the pot there. As she reaches for it, she hears Beritoad’s deep voice tell her not to touch it. She finds Beritoad’s toad form behind the altar, freaks out, trips, looks up, and sees something emitting light. She utters her last words and it (a blade) falls, decapitating her.

Scene 9

Maiden is the one who killed her, using a guillotine. Beritoad assures her she did the right thing, as humans aren’t supposed to enter the shrine. He also reassures her on her usefulness as the one who kills off their victims (even though she’s not as good at causing suffering).

Scene 10

Chamberlain’s grief when he learns that Cynthia and Ian went missing leads to an even worse decline of his health. Raymond visited a week later asking about them, and by chance met with Danny. He then recommended Benji to start attending on the family. Three weeks later Danny is recovering, and Chamberlain is no longer bedridden.

The scene opens on him expressing gratitude to them both. He asks Benji if he might become the new family physician, which Benji takes as an opportunity to segue into telling him how Ian had really been poisoning Danny for his inheritance. Then he leaves, promising to see Danny’s condition the day after tomorrow.

Raymond follows after him, and it’s revealed that Benji only did it to clear his bar tab. He asks Raymond if he’s an acquaintance of Cynthia’s, and he says no (though doesn’t elaborate why he’s looking for her then). Raymond declares his intention to look for her in Torcia Tower, which alarms Benji, despite Raymond saying it’s not his problem.

Benji says that he knows more about the tower than anyone else in town.

#god a part of me wants to translate it but I know I can’t with everything else #mothy has made the characters so interesting #and the torture isn't nearly as bad as i thought with all the euphemisms and vagueness #within my tolerance levels anyway #()torture tower doesn't sleep

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fableweaver · 5 years

Text

Arc of the Blind Warrior

Traveling the trade road was interesting to say the least. The first day out and they found a caravan of Rhodin traveling the same road. Ian talked to those he could, at first they were wary, but when he mentioned Kree’s name they lessened their guard enough to tell him stories. None of the Rhodin in that caravan knew about the singing stone or Sapphira so they rode on.

The Rhodin unlike common folk also appeared differently in Ian’s strange sight. Most people appeared in shades of gray to Ian’s strange sixth sense. The Rhodin however appeared in shades of blue, the shades varying again on the person’s mood and thoughts. They only appeared in blue however unlike someone with the Elder Magic which appeared in multi colors.

Rork didn’t seem to take to the saddle much, getting saddle sores their first day out on the road. They slept along the roadside, wanting to save their coin and avoid people. As they traveled Ian kept asking the Rhodin about Sapphira, Kree’s name a password into the Rhodin camps. They passed through villages and towns, but never stayed in them. The towns with Sects were almost as dangerous as those without Sects, those without were sure signs of a presence of the Legion.

The weather grew colder and Ian could hear frost cracking on the ground in the morning. He couldn’t see the changes the seasons wrought anymore, but he felt the temperature change and the smell in the air shift to colder smells of snow. He didn’t know what the southern Mark was like, but he guessed it was a simple place of country folk.

The roads seemed safe and the more they spoke to the Rhodin the more welcome they became. At last after a week of travel along the trade road Ian came upon his first lead.

They had been hunting for a camping spot when Ian smelled wood smoke. He steered them towards a Rhodin camp, the sound of dogs barking a greeting. He heard the draw of a bow and stopped, sensing a man hiding behind the trunk of a tree.

“Easy friend,” Ian said. “We be travelers seekin a safe spot ta rest fer the night.”

“You aint my friend, friend,” the man answered. “Just turn your horse about and you can go on your way.”

“I be a friend o Kree’s,” Ian said.

“Aint heard o her,” the man said. It wasn’t surprising, not every Rhodin knew Kree personally. Ian listed a few other names that other Rhodin had given him. He heard the man relax his draw and step out from behind the tree.

“Sorry for the hostility friend,” the man said more cordially. “Names Radek.”

“I be Ian, this be mine son Will n mine friend Rork,” Ian said. He and Rork dismounted and Radek led the way into his camp. Dogs and children ran to greet them, but Radek shooed them off. He helped Ian and Rork settle their horses with his and then they gathered around the fire. Radek’s wife served them with goulash and bread, everyone eating by the fire. When they finished Ian began with his customary question.

“Have ye heard o a Rhodin by the name o Sapphira?” Ian asked. Instead of the initial denial Ian sensed a surprised silence.

“My name is Sapphira,” Radek’s wife said.

“Ah, I be sorry,” Ian said before a misunderstanding could take place. “I mean the un that were the lover ta Tony Bones.”

“Aye I ken of her,” Sapphira said wryly. “My mother loved the tale and named me after her. Of course I never lived up to the name. Sapphira had many children, each by a different man. Me I just married the first Rhodin lad that managed to flip my skirt.”

Ian heard Radek laugh at that and perceived him to kiss his wife’s cheek. Ian was finding he could catch on to people’s emotions a bit better now, and could see the slight change in both their aura’s of affection.

“Why do you ask about her?” Sapphira asked.

“I heard the tale of her n Tony Bones,” Ian answered. “I were wonderin what happened ta her.”

“Her n her treasure you mean?” Sapphira asked shrewdly.

“Aye, I baint lie that I be mighty interested in what became o the loot she seduced outta old Bones,” Ian answered and Sapphira laughed.

“Well way I heard it was her children split it among themselves when she died,” Sapphira answered. “It’s probably split among all the Rhodin by now, or found their way back to some lord’s trove.”

Ian hid his disappointment; maybe he could still find another lead. Or if he could find one of Sapphira’s decedents he could find where some of the treasure went.

“Don’t mind my friend,” Rork said lightly. “See we were just looking for a particular piece of Sapphira’s treasure. The singing stone.”

“Singing stone,” Sapphira said wryly. “Most are more interested in the diamond the size of an egg than some stone. I doubt you’d find any word about that since most interest is around the gold and jewels.��

“Wait,” Radek said and Ian felt hope flare again. “What about the Piper of the Lost?”

“What does that song have to do with a singing stone?” Sapphira asked.

“Think about it,” Radek said. “The Piper was said to ‘play upon a flute as old as stone’ why not made of stone?”

“A flute made o stone be what I seek,” Ian said interested. “A singin stone; that be what caught my eye in Bones’ story.”

“I think you have it right,” Radek said. “The Piper of the Lost is an old tale of the Rhodin’s based on a true story. The story goes though that a Rhodin man, a piper by trade, came down with the illness and he died along with his wife and children. To guide his family and those he traveled with to the afterlife he played his flute. Soon he leads all those dying of the plague to their rest, playing his stone flute to guide them.”

“The true tale is much worse,” Sapphira said grimly. “During the plague times in history the Rhodin were blamed for spreading the plague. Many were hunted down and burned in their wagons. There was one time when a whole caravan was burned during a gathering of the Rhodin, hundreds died in the blaze. The village that had committed the crime later succumbed to the plague all that lived there died. The Piper of the Lost is based on that village because it was said a song could be heard over the dead village after everyone had died.”

“Where be this happen?” Ian asked.

“Regis,” Radek answered. “In a town called Bellerose. The town moved a bit since but it is still there. I heard there is a barrow there for the dead from the plagues; it is where the most died of the disease.”

“Thank ye,” Ian said feeling a sense of accomplishment war with disappointment. What was he going to do now that the trail led into Regis?

“Why so interested in a stone flute?” Sapphira asked.

“It were a family heir loom,” Ian answered, he wasn’t even lying technically since he was married to Bailey and she was descended from Eileen who had owned the flute in the first place. “Bones stole it from another pirate what stole it from Daun.”

“It worth anything?” Radek asked.

“Only ta mine family,” Ian answered. “N we baint have much in the way o gold.”

“Well I hope you find what you seek then,” Radek said. “You and your friend are welcome to our fire and shelter for the night.”

“Thank ye,” Ian said and Rork murmured his own thanks.

The next morning they had a quick breakfast of bread and bacon before hitting the road.

“That tale be eatsome at ya ja,” Rork said as they rode.

“Aye,” Ian said wearily. “I wanna go back ta Bailey, but it would be better ta head south n search some more. But it be dangerous fer me ta head inta Regis what with a price on my head from the Grand Sect.”

“Those never be all that rightsome,” Rork said. “Not like they gots some drawing of ya or anything ja. And it will tell of a man and woman traveling together. I taint be all that shapely.”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh at that and nod.

“Aye well that be true, but we do make an odd couple Rork,” Ian said.

“Not all that odd,” Rork said. “And I have some connections that we can call on.”

“In Regis?” Ian asked.

“Hyria trades with Regis,” Rork answered. “I’ll admit, some of my kin be in the unwholesome trade, criminals like. We can look ta them ta seek aid if things become diresome.”

“Alright,” Ian said, having an innate dislike for law breakers as he was one to obey most laws. In Daun those who broke the laws were criminals or the worst sort, murderers or rapists. In Hyria he had gathered from Rork that it was a common pastime to break the law. In fact it wasn’t really breaking the law since Hyria did not have many laws against smuggling or theft. It was only in other kingdoms that their activities became illegal. And a Hyrian cares little for the laws of other kingdoms.

“I coggin we can get along real fine in Regis if ya want,” Rork said.

“Aye, but…” Ian trailed off turning north and thinking of Bailey.

“Ya miss her,” Rork said this in a knowing way, and Ian could hear just a touch of envy to his voice.

“Aye, but I also ken o the look on her face ifn I handed the song ta her,” Ian answered.

“Ya taint able ta see the look on her face,” Rork said and Ian winced.

“Aye but I ken it’ll make her happy,” Ian said. “N proud…” The emotion that over whelmed him for the moment stole his breath. Bailey would be proud of him, and knowing that sent a wave of warmth through him. Even if he failed she would be proud of his effort, to continue the quest that she had set out on. Ian could sort of understand now why she had wanted to leave Barrow Múr in the first place.

“So what be it?” Rork asked.

“South,” Ian said. “We head for Bellerose.”

“Alrighty,” Rork said, his voice giving the hint of a wicked grin. Though Rork hated traveling the road he seemed to know the roads well. He bragged that he had a great sense of direction, but Ian knew he spoke to the Rhodin about where to go.

They steadily made their way south, making better time as they didn’t seek out the Rhodin. It was only two days until they reached the border between Regis and the Mark. There was only a post along the side of the road, but guards stopped them and they dismounted.

“Names,” the guard ordered briskly.

“Rork o Loamy Downs,” Rork answered. “And this is Cian and his son.”

Rork had already devised a cover story for them and so had told Ian to let him do all the talking.

“Papers,” the guard said and Ian heard the rustling of papers. He didn’t know what this meant, but Rork seemed to know what he was doing. “What about him? Do you have papers?”

“He’s blind sir,” Rork answered. “They taint have papers in Daun ja.”

“How did he get this far without papers?” the guard asked.

“How do the Rhodin?” Rork answered. “I met him in Hyria n decided to take him on as an extra hand in my trade ja.”

“Which is?” the guard asked.

“Animal husbandry, can’t ya read?” Rork said and guard grumbled as he shifted through the papers. “Lookin far work ja in Regis.”

“Why?” the guard asked.

“I won’t go inta details ja,” Rork said. “But let’s just say I fiddled the wrong girl.”

Ian gathered unspoken words were exchanged with a look then.

“I can’t let him past without papers,” the guard said stubbornly. Ian didn’t hear went on next but he perceived Rork shake the guard’s hand and whisper something to him. “Ah right here are his papers,” the guard grumbled as he turned away. “Go on through.”

They mounted their horses again and rode past the post, Ian waiting until they were far away before he rode next to Rork.

“What did ye do?” Ian asked.

“Bribed him,” Rork answered. “Hope ya weren’t fond o that silver coin ja.”

“Nowt, thanks,” Ian said with a wry grin.

They rode on into Regis and Ian tightened his guard. He kept Will wrapped in his swaddle, a new carrying basket along his back kept him warm through the cold days. He didn’t let anyone see him; his Aldan features could cause trouble. Rork helped keep watch, and feed Will occasionally from the nanny goat. The little nanny goat seemed to have taken a liking to Will, often sleeping near Will’s basket in camp. Will seemed to be growing well, and Ian felt pride that he had been able to care for him so well.

Still Ian felt worried about their travel through Regis. He felt a change now, not in weather but in the mood of the people. There was a tense air between the two races of Regis; the Elmerians were growing restless under the Regarian rule. Ian only had to listen to the whispers and grumbles of men in taverns to know that the words of the Legion of the Creed were spreading. Thanks to the attack at the royal wedding and the pressure from the Regarians to hunt down the cult many were growing resentful of the harsh treatment.

Rork, commenting as always as if he didn’t want Ian to miss anything, said that most of the people they passed were Elmerian. The farms they rode by, desolate at the end of the Colored One, were operated by Elmerians. The villages however held the Regarians. Rork said they passed several homes of lords by these villages, great estates far from the road. They avoided these naturally and only stopped in the villages for food and directions. The Rhodin were less here, but not unseen and occasionally Ian and Rork would share their camp.

“Tell me bout Bailey ja,” Rork said one day as they rode. “Ye hardly jabber bout her.”

“Cause I be so worried bout her,” Ian answered. “Though I guess I baint need ta be. She be strong, I mean powerful in the Elder Magic. Ifn ye kenned I were strong she be much stronger. She be kind but ifn ye cross her or endanger those she loves ye’d best watch out. Pepper, her twin, be fierce, but Bailey she be tough. She be soft n kind on the outside but that just covers a hard heart.”

“A hard heart?” Rork said puzzled. “She be cold then?”

“Nowt, I just ken that deep down she’ll always do her duty o’er her love,” Ian answered. “There baint be anything wrong with that, n I love her fer it. I ken now why she does it, ta do what needs done. Ifn ye baint then ye have failed yerself n those ye love. I baint sure I can explain it. I just ken I understand her better now, n wish ta do the same. When I see her gain I ken she’ll be proud o me fer it.”

“What else?” Rork asked softly. Ian wondered why he was asking these things but he continued on. Speaking of Bailey was hard, he missed her the more he spoke, but at the same time it felt good to remind himself of her.

“She likes it when I kiss her just behind the ear,” Ian said. “She loves sweets, n apples, un time she hid a biscuit under the pillow fer later n I crushed it ta crumbs by accident. She baint be afraid o spiders but she hates lint fer some reason. N when she laughs really hard she snorts a bit.”

Ian kept going on about Bailey as they rode, Rork never once asking him to stop.

Here in the south there wasn’t as much snow, but it was still chilly and windy. They traveled at a steady pace, faster than the Rhodin wagons but not a breakneck speed of a messenger. It took them ten days from the border to reach Bellerose, the day still young when they rode into the village. It was much like the other villages they had ridden through, twenty odd houses, a few shops, a post, and a lord’s manor sitting on a hill over the village.

Rork started to ride towards town but Ian stopped him.

“Where ye goin?” Ian asked.

“Inta town,” Rork said. “We need ta settle in the inn afore we go a looky loo far the mass grave ja.”

“Nowt, I baint want the Regarians ta catch onta anything fishy like,” Ian said. “We find the grave first.”

“But it’ll be dark soon,” Rork said nervously.

“Baint worry Rork,” Ian said with a grin trying to make light of the situation. “I’ll protect ye from the ghosts.”

Ian saw Rork’s aura shift and he realized he had said too much. Not that he had frightened Rork, but that he had just inadvertently said one of those things that only made Rork more attracted to him. Guiltily he turned away towards the road. He searched with his senses and found a few gnomes, summoning them over with a touch of power. The little earth spirits leapt up onto his horse, two settling before him and a third hanging onto Will’s basket. Ian heard Will laugh and knew the gnome would be making faces at the baby. He left them be, unconcerned that the gnome would harm Will.

“Can ye lead us ta where many men be buried?” Ian said to them. He found working with the Wild Folk that being polite helped a lot. He felt them nod in answer and one scampered off. The other sat on Ian’s saddle horn, guiding him with a tap on his hands. They rode around the village toward a great hill that rested about half a league away. The hill stood far from the Lord’s manor, practically out of sight of the village.

They rode around the hill, Ian feeling He Who Burns was sinking lower in the sky. A cold wind was blowing, rattling the branches of the bare trees and sending the leaves on the ground rustling across the road.

“Ya be sure bout this?” Rork asked nervously.

“Aye, baint ye worry Rork,” Ian said sure of himself. They stopped at the foot of the hill Ian able to sense a blocked opening before them.

“Ian we taint able ta move that,” Rork said. “There’s a huge boulder over the entrance.”

Ian ignored him and dismounted walking up to the blocked entrance. He sensed it was square entrance supported with wood beams. A great rock had been moved to block the entrance. Ian put his hand upon the stone, feeling the power of this place. It was not a meeting of the lines, but it was a place of certain earth powers. Ian could feel gnomes gathering around here, many of them joining him at the boulder.

“Can ye open the way?” he asked them. He felt them answer a yes, but they needed power. Shivering Ian drew the power they needed from the aether and fed it to them. The gnomes swarmed up over the rock and Ian quickly stepped back. There was a grating noise and a rumble, then the rock split open with a thundering crack. Pieces tumbled down, opening a gap big enough for Ian to fit through if he turned sideways.

Ian knew Rork was staring at him. For all his talk of magic and the Phay this was the first time Rork had seen Ian do anything of a substantial working. Ian ignored him, his mind on the opening. He stepped through, carefully moving so Will strapped to his back didn’t get caught on anything.

He heard Rork dismount and scramble to light a lantern, but Ian went on not needing a light. It was strange, he knew he entered a dark place, but his alternate vision did not change. If anything it grew better surrounded by walls strong in the earth powers. He could perceive the walls around him in muted tones of brown, though details eluded him so it was not the same as sight.

He walked through a short tunnel into the heart of the hill and there he found an open chamber. The room smelled of dust and decay, it smelled of things long dead and forgotten. The cavern seemed to be a manmade hollow in the hill, the rock walls carven and even. Ian guessed this was someone’s attempt at a mine before it became the home to the dead. Ian could sense a lot of the gnomes moving around the place, but as he took a step his foot encountered something. He knelt and felt a skull near his foot and he quickly pulled back. Rork came up behind him a gasped.

“What do ye see?” Ian asked.

“A big pile o bones,” Rork answered. “Ye taint expect ta sort through them do ya?”

“Nowt I ken a faster way,” Ian said. “Hail!” he shouted and dust stirred at his shout. All the gnomes in the cavern turned to him. “I seek the March o the Phay, can ye find it?”

There was a flurry of activity then, dust swirling and bones rattling as the gnomes dove into the mound of bones. Ian wondered what it looked like to Rork who could not see the gnomes. The Wild Kin could have an effect on the physical world as they chose, but since most people could not see them they only saw the effects they had. The stirring of leaves in the wind, dust devils, heat shimmers in the distance, or even that slight movement in the corner of the eye that one couldn’t quiet catch no matter how fast they turned; all these could be attributed to the Wild Kin.

Now though with Ian’s prompting and touch of power the gnomes were moving more than they normally would. At last they settled down and one stepped forward out of the group. It shook its head and then ran off as if it had lost interest suddenly. The others did the same, going back to their normal lounging around or exploring nooks and crannies.

“Well?” Rork asked nervously.

“It baint be here,” Ian said heartbroken.

“We tried Ian,” Rork said with a clap on the shoulder. “Might be we should go inta town now n see what we can stir up ja.”

“Aye,” Ian said but he had little hopes of finding anything.

They left the grave, but since the entrance stone had been broken they couldn’t reseal it. They rode back down the road and Rork led the way to the village. Evening had come and the villagers were all about, heading for the local tavern. They headed there as well since the tavern as always was in the local inn. A boy was sweeping the stable yard as they rode in, leaping to take their horse’s reigns.

“Be there any vacancies here lad?” Rork asked as he dismounted.

“Aye since the seasons dropped,” the boy answered as Ian dismounted. “Why do you ride the small one if you’re the taller one?”

“I taint like havin something so big between my legs ja,” Rork answered with a chuckle. The boy didn’t seem to get the joke so Rork took their saddle bags. “See the goat is settled too.”

“Yes sir,” the boy answered as he led the horses and goat off into the stables. Rork led the way into the inn, the smell of roasting meat and beer greeting them as they entered. The room was loud as well, many men talking and laughing.

“How can I help you strangers?” the innkeeper said as he approached them.

“A room ja,” Rork answered. “I take it ye have plenty?”

“Sure do sir,” the man answered. Ian gathered he was Regarian by his accent, though he could tell little from the gray shape he sensed other than that he was fat. “It’ll be two royals a night.”

“Two!” Rork said. “My good man just because it is the off season taint mean ya can charge n arm n leg fer a room.”

Ian left Rork to the haggling and slipped in past the innkeeper into the tavern. Negotiating the room was difficult, the gray shapes he perceived as people kept moving and blurring together. He stepped on a few toes and nearly knocked someone over until he found a seat at table. Two other men sat there and seemed surprised a stranger had joined them. Stranger still Will had started crying due to the noise of the room.

“Evenin,” Ian said. Sliding Will’s basket off his shoulders he unwrapped the babe and settled him on his knee. Once free of the basket in safe in his father’s arms, Will settled down enough to suck on his thumb and look around the room in curiosity.

“Evening,” one of the men said getting over his surprise.

“My name be Ian neighbor,” Ian said nodding in greeting. “This be mine son Will.”

“Names Gerald, this is my brother Gilbert,” the man said. “What brings a Daunish man to Regis?”

“My employer, that Hyrian feller talkin with the innkeeper,” Ian answered. “He be an animal healer what be lookin fer work. I just be his servant.”

“With a child?” Gerald asked.

“Mine wife died,” Ian answered. “I be all he has n a man’s gotta work. Lucky Rork baint care that I have him. What o ye?”

“We’re cobblers,” Gerald answered, seeming to do all the talking for his brother. “You’re blind aren’t you? What kind of servant is blind?”

“I be a good cook,” Ian answered. He guessed the brothers were Regarian as well, getting better at identifying things without sight. He saw Gerald’s aura shift slightly to a doubtful shade, darkening to disgust. He assumed Ian was Rork’s lover. “Rork said he heard tales bout this village.”

“What tales?” Gerald asked, on edge but seeming to like this change of subject. Provincial people loved talking about local legends.

“Bout the hill n plague all those years ago,” Ian answered. “Be it all true that all those people be dead in that hill?”

“True as true,” Gerald said. “Some say that hill is haunted by the dead.”

“No uns gone ta look?” Ian asked.

“We all stay away from there,” Gerald said. “You’d best too if you know what’s good for you. Nothing but bad spirits up there.”

Ian nodded and felt a hand on his shoulder. Ian turned to see Rork standing over him.

“Come on I got us a room n a private meal ja,” Rork said. Ian saw Gerald’s aura darken even more, but he ignored him as he followed Rork through the tavern and up the stairs to their room.

“Ye were jabberin bout me Ian?” Rork said crossly.

“Sorry,” Ian said. “But they caught on quick like ta yer tastes.”

“Cause I be Hyrian,” Rork said. “Everyun coggins what we be like ja.”

“Sorry Rork,” Ian said.

“I taint be mad Ian,” Rork said. “It just means I shouldn’t stay too long in this village ja. Regarians be even touchier then the Markians. They don’t even romp in bed like them. Sorry but it looks like we’ll have ta get outta town real quicksome like.”

Ian could only sigh defeated. It looked like he was going to have to go to Bailey empty handed, the trail had gone cold.

They sat at the table and ate their meal of stewed beef and potatoes and white bread. Ian found the food flavorless, not even a hint of herbs or spices to the meal. When they finished Rork took their dishes down to the kitchen and Ian fed Will from a milk bladder. After Will was fed he settled down in Ian’s lap playing with his rattle. Ian watched Will’s changing aura feeling as though he could see him growing.

Not for the first time Ian thought of Matt and Bailey when he looked at Will. He missed them both and worried. He wondered too if Will missed his mother and brother, and Ian felt a pang to know his son didn’t have his mother nor Matt have his father. He sat feeling his eye begin to water with tears thinking about Bailey, a hollow ache in his chest. Rork came back at that moment and stopped, Ian quickly drying his eyes.

“Ya be alright?” Rork asked putting a hand on Ian’s shoulder.

“Aye,” Ian said and Rork seemed to understand everything in that word.

“I only got us un bed ja,” Rork said. “Hope that be alright.”

“As long as ye keep yer hands ta yerself,” Ian said jokingly, but Rork just nodded. Ian sighed again and they went to bed. They just kicked off their boots, and Ian took off his ceramic mail. Ian settled Will in his basket to sleep, afraid of rolling over onto the child while he slept. He and Rork lay back to back, but Ian could still sense Rork’s tension even when he closed his eyes.

Ian tried to sleep, but Rork’s tension wasn’t helping. Ian tried to snore a bit, making his breathing even so Rork thought he was asleep in attempts of making Rork sleep. He felt Rork shift next to him, rolling over to his other side. Ian thought he was just settling to sleep until Rork put his arm around him. Rork moved in close, sliding his hand up inside Ian’s shirt.

“Rork,” Ian said warningly and Rork stopped, Ian feeling his breath on the back of his neck.

“Ya were awake,” Rork said regretfully withdrawing his hand. “Sorry, sweet dreams.”

“Dreams!” Ian said as he sat up struck with inspiration. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He hurried to retrieve his boots, groping around blindly for them. He pulled on his cloak, but left his mail off, deciding he wasn’t going to need it.

“Dreams?” Rork said puzzled. “Ian where ya be going ja?”

“I have ta go back ta the hill,” Ian said.

“Can’t this wait?” Rork asked but Ian didn’t answer. Ian wrapped Will up who started to cry at the rude awakening. Ignoring Will’s cries Ian put him in his basket and pulled him onto his back. He practically ran out the door, Rork hopping around still trying to get his boots on. Ian hurried down to the stable and found Enbarr simply because he was the biggest horse stabled there. Ian didn’t bother with a saddle; he pulled himself up onto Enbarr’s back and urged him on. Enbarr trotted off just as Rork came stumbling out of the inn.

It was just after nightfall and the tavern was still loud and full of life, no one but the stable boy saw the two men ride out again. Ian headed back for the hill, finding it by memory. Will’s cries tempered off into whimpers as they rode, but picked up again when they reached the hill. Ian dismounted and tied Enbarr’s halter to a nearby tree. He took Will down as well to comfort him, Will rooting against his chest looking for a breast.

“Sorry Will,” Ian said softly. “I baint mean ta wake ye but I baint wanna leave ye alone.”

Will only answered with a hiccup and Ian held him closer. Rork caught up on Puzzle, ridding at a full gallop. He came to a halt in a cloud of dust, leaping off Puzzle’s back and stalking over angrily.

“What’s gotten inta yar head?” Rork shouted.

“Dreams,” Ian answered. “Back in Barrow Múr me n Glen accidentally slipped inta a trance n dreamed o the past. I kennin I might be able ta do it again here n see what happened ta the song.”

“Ya sure?” Rork said sounding worried.

“I can do it, it baint take long,” Ian said. “Come on.”

He went into the hill and Rork followed reluctantly holding onto Ian since he couldn’t see in the dark. Inside the grave it was just as they had left it. Ian pushed the bones aside and sat down on the ground, Rork kneeling next to him.

“I’ll be goin inta a trance,” Ian said. “I won’t sleep fer long.”

“Should I hold Will?” Rork asked.

“Nowt, I can do this with him,” Ian said. “Just make sure nothin disturbs me.”

“Aye,” Rork said sounding scared. Ian lay down with Will on his chest and closed his eyes. At first he just laid there, doing something that he had only done by accident before on command was harder than he thought. He concentrated on the earth powers around him and slowly he began to feel his body relax. It was a bit like falling asleep, but Ian felt a slight shift as his spirit left his body.

He looked around but saw nothing. His sight had returned in the dream but at the same time he had that strange sense so he could still see in the dark. Around him was nothing but the earth of the hill, a feeling of suffocation starting to make him panic. He saw things as the gnomes did, the little creatures moving through the earth exploring rabbit warrens and mice dens.

Then light came in. Ian watched as miners broke into the hill and dug out the earth, moving the stone and earth to get to what lay under the hill. Ian watched as the men worked seeming to see things in snatches as the tunnel and chamber were dug. He saw the miners give up quickly when it became apparent there was nothing worth digging for and once more the hill was left alone.

The gnomes returned to explore the tunnels of men. Ian had no idea how long he watched the gnomes, time in dreams seemed to move strangely and he was underground away from the sun. The sound of a song made him turn, all the gnomes turning at the sound as well. From the entrance tunnel came a man of smoke playing a flute. He was burnt all over his body and a pall of smoke hung over him. He marched into the center of the cavern and continued to play, slowly more joined him.

The people crawled after the piper like rats on their bellies. Ian saw their skin covered in weeping sores and blackened with disease. The people followed the piper mindlessly; Ian was able to see the song holding their spirits in thrall. Hundreds crawled into the cavern, crawling over each other to huddle at the feet of the smoking man. When the last crawled in the song seemed to reach its peak.

With a sigh of relief all those in the cavern died together. Ian shivered, feeling his own wayward spirit seek to follow them onto the lines into the aether. With an effort of will he drew himself free to see the Piper still stood. He had no eyes, yet Ian knew he was looking at him.

“What do you seek here wayfarer?” the man asked, his voice a grating rasp from his burnt throat.

“I seek what ye hold,” Ian answered. The Piper looked down at the pipe and Ian did as well. It was a flute carven out of green soap stone; intricate carvings in tiny detail that made one want to examine it closely. Despite being held in sooty dirty hands the swirling green stone was not even marked or stained.

“It has guided us,” the Piper answered.

“Why did ye kill em?” Ian asked.

“They were to die anyways,” the Piper answered. “Though they killed me and my people. Now they will ride the wheel.”

“Ye should go as well,” Ian said.

“I will, to see her again,” the Piper said sounding sad. “Here, I give you what you seek.”

Ian tried to take the flute that was offered to him but it slipped through his hands.

“I can’t,” Ian said regretfully. “I only be here in spirit.”

“Then I am sorry,” the Piper said.

“Good rest ta ye,” Ian said to him. The Piper nodded and lay down in the center of the pile of bodies.

Ian once again watched the cavern again. The sound of stone being moved over the entrance told of others sealing away the dead. Ian was left alone to watch the bodies rot. He was glad the bodies turned to bones quickly in his dream, and he could still see the stone flute perched on the breastbone of the Piper. The gnomes moved around the bones of the dead curious rather than disturbed.

Time once again moved in an undetectable pace until once again a sound disturbed the peace. This time it was the sound of cracking stone. Ian turned to the entrance where lamp light flooded the cavern and three men walked into the cavern. He could see them clearly in the dream. Two were Elmerians, shorter drab men than their leader. The one in the middle was Regarian, a tall man with blonde hair and a mustache.

Their clothes and gear were dated, though from how long ago Ian did not know. The two servants set up lanterns as the Regarian stood studying the bones before him.

“Amazing,” he said at last.

“What was that master?” one of the servants asked.

“I am just amazed Rupert,” the lord answered. “All these people died over a hundred years ago, yet look at how the skeletons held together. There must have been no scavengers here to disturb the bones.”

Ian knew from watching that there had been mice and insects feeding on the bones, but these had been so small they hadn’t disturbed the bones.

The servants continued to set up lamps as the lord sat down to take out a drawing pad. He began to sketch the bones, the sound of charcoal over paper eerie in the grave. Rupert however finally spotted the flute in the center of the bones. He glanced at it and then at his lord. The Regarian was drawing the bones right in front of him, starting to take out a string to measure the bones.

Rupert walked around the pile, trying to look discreet. He couldn’t reach the flute however as it was in the center of the pile of bones. He tried to reach out but his foot shifted the bones and the Regarian looked up at him angrily.

“Rupert!” the Regarian shouted. “Do not disturb the bones. What are you doing anyways?”

“Nothing Lord Bellamy,” the man answered withdrawing. Bellamy glared at him but turned his attention back to the bones. That was when he too saw the flute. Excited he set his drawings aside to walk around the pile. At last he carefully stepped into the pile so he could snatch the flute from the Piper. The pile shifted slightly, but remained where it was as the lord stepped free of the bones.

He looked at the flute amazed, turning it around in his hands.

“What is it milord?” the other servant asked.

“A flute,” Bellamy answered. “It is of Aldan workmanship. How on earth did an Aldan flute come to rest in a Regarian mass grave?”

“I heard tell that Rhodin be buried here too,” the other servant answered. “They are known thieves.”

“Yes that could be it,” Bellamy answered. He was examining the flute in total fascination. He hesitantly put it to his lips and tried to play it, but no sound came out.

“It is beautiful all the same milord,” Rupert said, his eyes shining as he gazed at the flute. “Even if it doesn’t work.”

“Yes of course,” Bellamy said as he slipped the flute into his pocket, glaring at Rupert. “I think we’ve done enough for the day, we should head back.”

“Yes milord,” the other servant said. Lord Bellamy left the two men to gather the lamps as he left, carrying the flute with him.

Ian had seen enough and knew it was time to turn back. It seemed waking however was going to be just as hard as getting to sleep. Ian struggled through a smothering cloud of darkness, feeling lost as he sought his body. Then a pale gray thread of light seemed to pull him along and he found himself once more. Ian returned to his body startled to find he could barely move. He groaned and tried to rise, feeling a stiff hose had been shoved down his nose and throat.

His sixth sense came back to him and told him Will sat on his chest. The babe laughed as Ian opened his eyes and he felt a tiny hand on his cheek.

“Ian!” Rork shouted sounding utterly relieved. Rork knelt next to him leaning over. He took the hose out of Ian’s nose and Ian gagged as it left him.

“What were that for?” Ian asked his voice dry. Rork first helped him drink some water; Ian feeling like his muscles were made of unbaked dough.

“Ya’ve been snoozin far a long time Ian,” Rork said.

“How long?” Ian asked startled.

“Three weeks,” Rork answered and Ian felt a wave of shock. “I had ta put that tube down yar throat sos I could feed ya. It be what I’d do far an injured animal.”

Ian realized he was naked wrapped in a big blanket, a diaper the only thing he wore under the blanket. Ian felt a wash of shame at that and he knew Rork had been caring for him intimately. He felt Rork reach out and gently brush a lock of his hair off his forehead. The gesture was so tender Ian knew that Rork’s feelings had only deepened while he had cared for Ian.

Ian turned away feeling guilt catch in his throat. Rork knew him well enough by now to know why he turned away. Ian turned his attention to Will and felt his heart swell to feel how much he had grown. Will was now sitting on his own, and was quite the weight on Ian’s chest. Ian smiled as Will said some childish nonsense as his little hand tugged at Ian’s beard.

“Thank ye Rork,” Ian said. “Fer carin fer Will while I were gone.”

“I did it far ya Ian,” Rork said softly before shifting to a more brisk business like manor. “Now let’s get ya cleaned up n dressed.”

Ian nodded as Rork picked Will up and set him aside. Rork unwrapped him from the blanket and helped him sit up. Ian felt like he was the babe now, weak and hardly able to move. The cavern was warmed by a fire, Ian able to sense the salamanders of the fire. Rork helped him sit up and then took the diaper off. Rork washed Ian from a bucket of water with a wash cloth. Ian could tell immediately Rork’s touch was anything but business like.

“Rork,” Ian said with reproach. Rork only sighed and hurried to finish washing him. He helped Ian dry off and then don some clean clothes. Rork helped him sit by the fire leaning against the cave wall. He fed Ian a porridge of wheat and goat’s milk. Ian ate knowing this was what he had been feeding Will as well because soon Will was voicing his own hunger. Rork laughed and brought the child to sit in his father’s lap and he fed them both.

“Sos what did ya see?” Rork asked when he finished feeding them. Ian told him what he had discovered and Rork listened pensively. “Bellamy be the name o the local Baron. Ya ken he has the flute?”

“Maybe but my guess will be it moved on,” Ian said. “Somewhat like that would be sold er used as a dowry fer sure. Maybe it were even stolen, that servant Rupert were really interested in it.”

“I’ll go inta town n ask round bout the lord,” Rork said. “I can get the history o the Bellamy house n find out who that lord had been.”

“I can go with ye,” Ian offered.

“Naw Ian ya be weak still ja,” Rork said. “Sides which I told the locals ya ran off so they didn’t coggin ya were alone here n vulnerable when I been gone. They coggin me now too sos I’ve got their trust. I can figure out what ya need ta coggin. It be early now, dawns just rose. I should get goin.”

“Ye sure?” Ian said.

“Taint worry,” Rork said with a laugh. “I can handle myself. There’s plenty o water n porridge still by the fire. I’ll be back by lunch.”

Ian nodded as Rork stood and gathered a few things. He left Ian alone with Will.

“Well I guess it be just ye n me now sprout,” Ian said to Will. Will answered with a wordless grunt and Ian had an idea. “Hey Will can ye say Da?” Ian said in Daunish. For the morning he sat trying to get Will to speak, Will answering occasionally with wordless shouts or grunts. Ian was so taken with the noises he didn’t mind that Will wasn’t able to form full words. Every time he came even a little close Ian laughed and congratulated him.

It didn’t seem long then when Rork returned, and he was limping. Years of seeing his mother hide her injuries told Ian Rork had tried to do the same.

“What happened?” Ian asked trying to stand, but he was too weak.

“I be all goody good Ian taint worry yar head,” Rork said, his voice laced with suppressed pain.

“Bullshit,” Ian said. “Sit down Rork n tell me who did this ta ye.”

Rork sighed and sat down heavily, dropping his pack.

“I taint be so popular in the village,” Rork answered. “The Elmerians taint mind me, special since I can see ta their animals durin the winter. The Regarians though… well I stopped goin ta town awhile ago. Got all my supplies from the Elmerian farmers. But they wouldn’t coggin bout the lord so…”

“I be sorry Rork,” Ian said horrified. “Ye alright?”

“Aye I can take a beatin mate taint worry bout that,” Rork said wryly. “N I even got what ya needed. See a pretty lass coggin what ya needed ta coggin, only the men taint liked me jawin ta her. Nawt like I were gonna do anything ta her, I mean she taint my type after all.”

Ian would have found the dry joke mildly funny had Rork’s voice not been choked with pain.

“Anyways she told me that the lord was probably the first lord Bellamy,” Rork said. “After the plagues swept the lands there were many holdins without a lord so the king o Regis assigned new barons. He chose Bellamy for here. He were a scholar afore and when he heard there was an old mass grave here he came ta study it.

“Well old Bellamy continued his studies til he got inta a school that were in Versae. He gave the title ta his brother n went ta the school ta study.”

“What bout the song?” Ian asked.

“She taint coggin bout that,” Rork said. “My guess is he took it with him. The servant ya mentioned weren’t in her story, I coggin if he did any wrong by the lord like stealing she’d coggin bout it.”

It wasn’t iron clad, but it was enough.

“Versae,” Ian said softly. “That be Cair Leon now.”

“It were part o Alda afore that though,” Rork said. “Could be the lord Bellamy passed on the flute ta the Aldan. They could have it again.”

Rork said this with both excitement and bitter resentment. He knew that could mean Ian would go to Alda, and Bailey.

“Might be but I wanna check Cair Leon first,” Ian said. “No stone left unturned.”

“Well it’ll be some time afore ya be ready ta ride,” Rork said. “Ya be weak as a kitten now. N it be winter.”

“Aye,” Ian said wearily. “Un step at a time. Sos let’s get a look at yer wounds Rork.”

He might have argued if he hadn’t been so beat up. Instead he let Ian help him out of his shirt and prod at his bruises. Ian couldn’t see the damage, but feeling along Rork’s back and sides he found a few cracked ribs.

“I be guessin ye be bruised black n blue Rork,” Ian said. “How many o them were there?”

“Six,” Rork answered and handed Ian a pot of salve. “Rub that on my back. I managed to break at least un o their fat noses, another I scored a glorious cock punch on.”

Ian laughed as he started to spread the salve on Rork’s back feeling him shiver under his hands. Rork was silent and Ian decided not to say anything, guessing how he felt. Ian finished and Rork quickly pulled his shirt on.

“Be there anything else I could help ye with Rork?” Ian asked out of guilt. He heard Rork’s silence, the unasked question lying between them breathless.

“Could ya hold me?” Rork asked quietly. “Just that.”

“Aye,” Ian said. He sat back against the wall and held his arms open to Rork. Rork rested his head on Ian’s chest, snuggling against him much like a dog seeking the comfort of its master. Ian held him, ignoring the shivering sobs of the man in his arms. Rork’s breathing grew even and Ian heard him fall asleep.

Will however grew restless and Ian had to carefully reach over to pull Will over to him and settle him in his other arm. Will fell asleep too, and Ian wasn’t far behind, his mind slipping into a thankfully dreamless slumber.

#fantasy #series #writing #please read #fairies #dragons

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lost-opium-artblog · 7 years

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Fallout: Cendre’s Backstory (OC)

This is a quick summary of Cendre’s Backstory. I might add some details later for myself buuuuut... I guess that’s most of the thing i can say for now about my OC :) Hope you’ll enjoy!

Cendre was born in a small village called Sunshine Tidings and located in the western area of the Commonwealth. They lived there with their single mother and three or four other small families. A rather peaceful and prosperous community, their main means of survival being trade with caravans, repair services and a bit of agriculture. All together, they succeeded in defending their little business against the raiders, making use of deterrence, weapons, or even capsules. Life was not easy, but they had been holding up for about thirty years and nothing seemed to break the little community of Sunshine Tidings.

But one day, when Cendre was only 24 years old, a group of super mutants arrived ... They massacred the inhabitants who had failed to escape and pursued the others in order to quench their thirst for blood. Cendre was one of those who was leaking, out of ammo, one of the mutants on their heels. Fortunately (or not), they managed to take refuge in a burrow, large enough for them but too small for their pursuer, although he had tried to dig a passage to his prey. Though, after a quarter of an hour, the giant abandoned the task and left. Cendre, remained in their hiding place for a long time despite the humidity and the presence of radioactive waste. The fear of a mutant that would await them at the exit was paralyzing them. Later, after several long hours, their mother finally found them and managed to extirpate her child from their shelter, but it was already too late ... The young person was then suffering from the effects of radiation.

Cendre had to remain bedridden for several weeks, ill and very weak. Impossible for their mother to go get a doctor with all the work at the farm following the attack of the mutants. Moreover, she could not leave her child in such bad condition alone. Not to mention that the other inhabitants were beginning to wonder. Indeed, the mother had hidden her child since she had found them to avoid exposing their alarming state. The distorted skin, the loss of hair, the hoarse voice, the nose that has had crumbled ... no doubt, Ash was now a ghoul despite all the care that was brought to them. Unfortunately, the secret was discovered by one of the inhabitants who had thought proper to poke around. Obviously, the news raised fear in the community. The others suggested to the mother to kill the ghoul, persuaded that the creature would become feral, but it was out of the question for the woman to kill her child, feral or not! At the end, the community decided one evening to block the accesses of the house and burn it to get rid of the ghoul and the traitress. The mother, however, succeeded to carry Cendre away from the flames, into the cellar, in the midst of their stores of provisions. But if her child had been saved from the fire, her, on the other hand, succumbed to her burns in the arms of the ghoul. Grieved by grief, anger and loneliness, Cendre stayed for a very long time in the cellar of their house. They survived at first with the meager supplies offered by their reserve. Then, thanks to the body of their mother, the survival instinct gaining the upper hand over their reluctance to human flesh. Their last meal resulted from a long reflection embellished with anxiety attacks, remorse, anger and fear of becoming the feral ghoul so dreaded. And finally, ignoring the fear that twisted their stomach, the young ghoul went out of the rubble and ashes of their house, frightening the remains of the inhabitants. But soon they would return to exterminate them and they were far from being able to fend themsleves in their physical and mental state. Cendre left alone, equipped with a hunting-knife, a few provisions and money stolen from what had formerly been their friends. They took the direction of the South, wandering from left to right to escape any complications that might have been fatal to them. During the first six months, Cendre had to learn to run away without getting caught - communication does not always go very well when being a ghoul - and to hide. Thus they sharpened their perception, their agility, and their endurance. Having regained strength, the following six months were then devoted to hunting and defense. But nothing was easy. Sometimes the young ghoul would not eat for three days in a row . Sometimes they would get beaten up by humans or get caught by some Raiders. Cendre will never forget that day when they were one of their prisonners. They had humiliated them and hurt them. The humans had thought funny to sharp their teeth to make them look like a feral ghoul. Fortunately, they didn't have the time to work on all their teeth, another Raiders clan came from nowhere and a fight began. The ghoul managed to run away, tears in their eyes, three sharp teeth and blood in their mouth. No, life wasn't easy at all and Cendre started to blame humans. They hated them for what they had done. As they headed to the south, Cendre reached the Glowing Sea while trying to escape a group of angry raiders. They wandered over the devastated land for several days with the desire to die. However, once again, they was saved by their survival instinct when a Deathclaw hunted them. By the biggest chance - or luck - the ghoul managed to defeat the beast. This sudden victory made them regain confidence in themselves and Cendre resumed the direction of the North with the aim of revenge. Cendre spent another year alone, perfecting their talents of survival and murder in the South of the Commonwealth. They trained first on creatures little aggressive then more dangerous and finally packs. Then came small groups of humans, usually Gunners or Raiders. Once almost sure of their abilities, the ghoul began to attack small camps, stealing valuables, equipment and weapons. Their small collection gathering lasted about two months and allowed them to materially prepare for their objective. Now properly equipped and protected, things seemed almost easier. Killing became child's play. One day, the ghoul found an abandoned camp. Everything had been taken except ... A dog. The poor beast had been locked up in her cage for several days already. She was thin, barely standing and although she seemed suspicious of the silhouette in front of her cage, a ray of hope lit up her eyes. Cendre, not insensitive to the sad situation of the animal, encamped a few days there to take care of the dog. They nourished her, nursed her, and soon they became friends. A month later, Cendre returned to Sunshine Tidings, their sniper on their shoulder and Mardi-Gras, their dog, by their side. Nobody survived. The ghoul and the dog remained on the place for three months in order to rest from their usual vagrancy and profit by bargaining with the caravans passing there. One of the caravan leaders who regularly returned to Sunshine Tidings informed the young ghoul that they might find some opportunities in the city, notably as a mercenary. However, Cendre did not know the city and the idea of being in a dangerous and unknown place did not reassure them. The merchant then offered them to work as a caravan escort, as long as the ghoul hides their face to avoid customers running away. For a year, Cendre escorted the Commonwealth caravans, learning in passing the relief of Boston and its surroundings. Once more confident, Cendre and Mardi-Gras left the caravans to accumulate doubtful little jobs in the big city and its outskirts. Killing strangers paid well! Especially as, during the first six months, the ghoul would take every single job proposed to them except those that asked for the murder of a ghoul or brought them in the direction of Diamond City. It was better not to approach this place when we were a ghoul since the election of the Mayor McDonnough even with covered face. After 3 years and 7 months since leaving their mother's home, Cendre managed to make a name for themselves in the Commonwealth. And even if they and their dog have been pursued several times by the Brotherhood of Steel, Gunners and some influential groups of raiders, the duo continues the assassinations successfully to the point of being recommended from one employer to another. No more hidden face and no more ungreatful murderers, Cendre could finally openly afford to refuse the assassination of a ghoul and stand up to humans. At the age of 28, they were determined enough to approach the urban community and a year later, Cendre is even considering joining Goodneighbor.

#fanfiction #fallout #fallout 4 #cendre #oc #ghoul #backstory #fallout oc

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berjhawn · 7 years

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Lost Lothlorien Princess - Part 16 - Feast For The Fallen

Warnings: Arguing, self doubt, loss

Pairings: LOTR X Reader ; Legolas X Reader

Parts:

Part 1 - High School

Part 2 - Rivendell

Part 3 - Concerning Hobbits

Part 4 - Merry and Pippin

Part 5 - Bree

Part 6 - Aragorn

Part 7 - The Council

Part 8 - The Road Ahead

Part 9 - Moria

Part 10 - Lothlorien

Part 11 - Boromir

Part 12 - Fangorn Forest

Part 13 - Rohan

Part 14 - Helms Deep

Part 15 - Haldir

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

Gandalf, Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Theoden and I all ride through the forest looking warily around. Suddenly distant laughter is heard. I glance forward to see Isengard in ruins and smile. “Ahaha!” Pippin call out as he salutes us with his mug and Merry Stands. “Welcome, my lords and lady to Isengard!”

“You young rascals. A merry hunt you’ve led us on and now we find you feasting and … and smoking!” Gimli says as he chastises the hobbits. Pippin slurs as he say, “We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well earned comforts, The salted pork is particularly good.” I can practically see the drool drip down from Gimli’s mouth as he says, “ Salted pork…”

“Hobbits!” My father cries out and Merry smiles as he says, “We’re under orders from Treebeard who’s taken over management of Isengard.” I smile as I say, “If you’ve had enough shall we be off?” Merry’s eye find me and huge smile fills his face as he calls out my name and grabbing his coat jumps down and runs over to me. When he nears Fili he stares at him for a moment before he says, “Is he safe?” I chuckle as I climb down and wrap my arms around the little hobbit and say, “I have missed you my friend.” He hugs me back as Pippin runs up to us. “Shall we then?” I hear Gandalf say and I roll my eyes as I say, “Come along,” I lift them up onto Fili’s back before lifting myself up behind them.

We ride to Orthanc with the Hobbits on board with us. “oooom, young master Gandalf, I’m glad you’ve come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there is a Wizard to manage here locked in his tower.” Aragorn looks up at the tower as he calls out, “Show yourself.”

“Be careful. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous.” Gandalf says and I let out a sigh. “Well then let’s just have his head and be done with it.” Gimli says growing impatient. “No, we need him alive. We need him to talk.”

“You have fought many wars and slain many men Theoden King and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace you and I?” Saruman says and I grit my teeth.

“We shall have peace…. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg… are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace!”

“Gibbets and crows! Dotard! What do you want Gandalf Grahame? Let me guess… the key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys of Barad Dûr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!” Saruman says as he turns his attention to Gandalf.

“Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy’s counsel.”

“So you have come here for information. I have some for you.” Saruman holds up the palantir and looks into it as he continues, “Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the great eye has seen it! Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die! But you know this don’t you Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned King. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those who are closest to him… those he professes to love! Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death.”

“I’ve heard enough! Shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob!” Gimli says clearly have reached his limit causing Legolas to reach for an arrow. Saruman’s eyes find me and I instantly feel a shiver run down my back as he says, “And what of the Elven Princess, the halfbreed. She will follow in her father Sauron’s footsteps. It is inevitable.”

I feel everyone’s eyes turn to me and I grit my teeth as I yell out, “Jesus Christ how many times do I have to say it, Sauron is not my father; Gandalf is!” I hear my father clear his throat and my eyes widen as I say, “Oops,”

“Come down Saruman and your life will be spared!” Gandalf says and grumbling under my breath say, “Not after I get ahold of him.”

“Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!” Saruman says as he directs a bolt of fire at Gandalf which he survives with no ill effects. “Saruman….. your staff is broken!” Gandalf says and Saruman’s staff bursts asunder! Grima Wormtongue appears behind Saruman causing Theoden to say, “Grima! You need not follow him! You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down.” Grima looks like he going to come down.

“A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helms Deep does not belong to you Theoden Horse Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires!” Saruman says and my jaw drops at the insult.

“Grima…. Come down! Be free of him!” Theoden yells out again.

“Free? He will never be free!”

“No!” Grima yells out and Saruman turns around to says, “Get down cur!” As he slaps him to the ground.

“Saruman! You were deep in the enemy’s counsel. Tell us what you know!” Gandalf says drawing Saruman’s attention back to him. Grima pulls a knife out behind Saruman.

“You withdraw your guard and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here!” Saruman says Grima rises up behind him and attacks him with the knife, stabbing him twice in the back. Legolas aims an arrow at Grima who falls shot in the heart. Saruman falls from the tower and is impaled on a great wheel below.

I stare at him as Gandalf says, “Send word to all our allies and to every corner of Middle Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike.” The water wheel turns and Saruman disappears beneath the water head first. The Palantir drops from his hand into the water.

“The filth of Saruman is washing away. Trees will come back to live here.” Treebeard says but I can’t help but stare at Saruman. What did he know about me? Pippin sees the Palantir and dismounts from Fili’s back. “Pippin!” Aragorn cries out as he runs past him and towards the Palantir. Pippin looks into the Palantir and it holds his gaze for a minute.

“Bless my bark!” Treebeard exclaims as he stares down at Pippin.

“Peregrin Took. I’ll take that my lad! Quickly now!” Gandalf says as Pippin hands the Palantir to him and he wraps it up. Pippin looks sheepish at Gandalf and watches him intently as he turns away. We turn and quickly ride towards Edoras.

As we reach the city I look up to see Eowyn standing on the parapet of the great hall waiting for us. When we reach the city Theoden calls out, “Tonight we feast.” I climb off Fili’s back and turning back help Pippin and Merry off as well. Eowyn walks up behind me and says, “My Lady, will you be joining us for the feast?”

I glance at the rest of my companions and am about to decline when my father says, “Of course she will be.” I sigh inwardly as I nod to her. She smiles as she says, “Then perhaps I could help you prepare?” I turn to Fili and am about to say something when he spots a familiar group of children and runs off to play with them. I smile as I turn back to her and say, “Sure,” I follow her to what I guessed was her room and fidget while she digs through a trunk full of dresses. “Aha!” She exclaims as she pulls out a green and white gown. The green was of a velvety fabric as the white shined like silk.

“It’s beautiful!” I say as I run my finger across its soft fabric. “Then it would please me if you were to wear this to the feast tonight.” She says and I feel my face flush as I say, “I couldn’t, it’s too beautiful.” Her smile brightens as she says, “You must, it is my gift to you.” I gaze down at the beautiful fabric and smile as I say, “Thank you Eowyn.”

“You are very welcome, now if you’ll allow me; I’d like to prepare your hair.” I stare at her in shock as I say, “My hair?” she smiles as she says, “Yes, now off with you. I have had a bath prepared for you.” I smile as I let her lead me to a room with a bath and after my bath I quickly put the dress she gave me on and let a group of women tailor it to my form.

Then when they are done Eowyn leads me to a chair where she intricately braids my bangs out of my face. After a few moments she smiles as she says, “Done!” She hands me a little handheld mirror and I stare at myself in shock. My skin shined like a diamond against the candlelight. I reach up and touching my hair smile at its softness. “This is unbelievable!” I cry out as I jump to my feet and wrap my arms around her. “Thank you so much!” She smiles as she says, “It is all I could do after your help in saving our people.” I look at her pale cream dress and smile as I say, “Eowyn you look beautiful.”

She chuckles as she says, “If only I was half as beautiful as you.” Before I have a chance to argue there is a knock on the door and her smile brightens as she says, “It is time, come we must not be late for the feast.” I start to argue but am quickly pulled from her room and lead to the dining hall where I see a giant crowd of men waiting patiently. “I must leave you now, but enjoy the feast.” She says and as she walks away from her I reach after her only to pull my arms back to my sides and bite my lip.

I look around at the men staring at me and I clear my throat as I instantly try to find my father. Suddenly the room goes quiet as Eowyn offers a goblet of wine to Theoden as she kneels in front of him. After she retires behind him. Theoden offers the goblet in toast to the people of Rohan, “Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country.” He offers up the goblet. “Hail the victorious dead” I watch as the people raise their glasses and say, “Hail!” I look over right as Aragorn hesitates and thinks of them before he drinks. People start to feast at long tables as I once again look for my father.

Instead of him I find Legolas and Gimli standing next to Eomer and taking a deep breath walk over to them. When I reach them I hear Eomer say, “No pauses, no spills.”

“And no regurgitation!” Gimli says as he lifts the tankard to his mouth.

“So… it’s a drinking game?” Legolas says and the Rohirrim agree.

“Last one standing wins heh heh heh!” Gimli says as he drinks his tankard in one go. Throughout the hall I hear men shout out, “Lets drink to Victory! To Victory!” I watch as once again Gimli finishes his drink in one go. Legolas begins to drink from his tankard.

I sigh as I look around to see Eowyn with a goblet in her hand smiling and approaching Aragorn who approaches her and takes the offered goblet. He takes the goblet and drinks. She smiles at him and he looks intensely at her. With a little smile he walks away. I sigh as I turn back to Gimli drinking another tankard of ale and across to Legolas also downing another tankard. Gimli farts as he laughs. “Here, here.” Gimli takes another tankard as he continues sayin, “Raaar it’s the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women haha!”

“I feel something.” Legolas says as he looks at his fingers and Eomer raises an eyebrow. “A slight tingle in my fingers, I think it’s affecting me.” He continues his face filling with concern.

“Heh heh heh (slurring his words) what did I say? He can’t hold his liquor.” Gimli says as his eyes are crossed and he sits quiet for a moment, then keels over backwards off his stool. Legolas watches him fall, raises his eyebrows and looks over at Eomer as he says, “Game over!”

Turning I once again start to look for my father when I hear Merry and Pippin singing, “Oh you can search far and wide, You can drink the whole town dry, (they dance on the table kicking their feet against each other) But you’ll never find a beer so brown, But you’ll never find a beer so brown, As the one we drink in our hometown, As the one we drink in our hometown. (they stamp on the table) You can drink your fancy ales, You can drink them by the flagon, But the only brew for the brave and true,” They pause for a moment and I follow Pippin’s eyes to see him look at Gandalf.

“Pippin!” Merry calls out and Pippin turns back to Merry and continues with the song. “Comes from the Green Dragon!” The room fills with laughter and applause. I start to make my way to my father when all the sudden I hear Merry say, “_____!” I turn toward them with shock in my eyes as I say, “Yes?”

“Sing us a song?” Merry says and I shake my head as I say, “Oh no I couldn’t,”

“Oh come on _______, don’t be shy!” Pippin calls out and shaking my head start to pull away when the men around me start pulling me forward to the table where Pippin and Merry stood waiting.

“Please, I don’t want too!” I say once I reach them but they are all too drunk to listen to me. I groan out in annoyance as I look around at all the happy men and I close my eyes as I try to think of a song that wouldn’t throw them into either confusion or sadness. “I’m afraid I don’t know of any songs fit for the halls of King Theoden and his Riders.”

“I am sure you know of one that is suitable.” I hear my father say and I smile as I reach down and taking Merry’s hands say, “Hold onto my waist and place your feet on mine.” He tilts his head but does so. I smile as I start to sing out:

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you,

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know its true

That visions are seldom all they seem

But if i know you

I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

As I sing the words over and over again Merry smiles and I dance around with him following along. I glance up to see the men staring at me longingly and I stop suddenly and give Merry a quick bow. I turn to Eomer who is now standing a few feet away and as I start over I take his hands in mine and lead him in a waltz. He smiles at me as he quickly picks up the dance and starts to twirl me around the room as I hear the men now sing out the lyrics.

I laugh as they sing out behind me while banging the rhythm out against the tables. Suddenly one of the other soldiers appears and tapping Eomer on the shoulder asks for a chance to dance with me. Eomer nods and giving me a smile and a quick bow walks away. I turn to the soldier and smile as he places his hands on my waist and we start dancing. This happened for a few more turns before I see a familiar hand touch the soldier’s shoulder and I turn to see Legolas.

“May I?” I hear him ask and the soldier nods to him before turning to me and saying, “Thank you my lady.” I nod giving him a pleasant smile before I feel one of Legolas’s hands find my waist while the other grasps my hand. I stare at him fear filling my body; but it suddenly fades as he gives me a reassuring smile and starts leading me in a waltz as I once again sing out:

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you,

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know its true

That visions are seldom all they seem

But if i know you

I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

As I reach the end of the song I find myself transfixed on his. His icy orbs were cloudy, mixed with intoxication and longing. The men around me start applauding and cheering and I quickly pull myself out of Legolas’s arms and looking around force a smile and giving a quick nod walk out of the hall and out into the cool night air. What was I thinking? I look up into the night sky and breathe in and out as I try to calm my now racing heart. “Dammit!” I cry out as I walk back and forth along the top of the stairs.

Why had he danced with me? Why had he even looked at me that way? Wasn’t he angry with me about my lie? I stop walking and looking out over the plains wrap my arms around me as I say to myself, “I am so confused.” I hear footsteps behind me and I turn to see my father walking toward me.

“Are you alright my child?” He asks as he stands beside me.

“I don’t know anymore,” He gives me a confused look and I sigh as I say, “I may have let it slip to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli that I know the future; and that even though I knew it I couldn’t save Boromir nor Haldir.” He stares at me for a moment not sure what to say before he clears his throat and follows my gaze out over the valley.

I look at him for a moment before I turn back to moonlit valley and sigh as I say, “I know everyone’s fate cept my own. How can I go on knowing that?”

“Knowing ones fate and changing it are two separate matters my dear. You cannot change ones fate.”

“Then is Saruman right? Am I fated to follow in Sauron’s footsteps? I mean I know he’s not my father but somehow I am connected to him.”

“I said you cannot change someone else’s fate; but perhaps you can change your own.” I stare at him for a moment before he gives me a quick smile and walks back inside.

I turn back to face the valley and taking a deep breath say to myself, “Change my fate. Okay, now how the hell do I do that?” A few minutes pass before once again I hear a noise behind me and turn to see Legolas walking out toward me. I feel my body straighten as my heart starts to race. “Can I help you?” I ask as I fold my arms over my chest.

“Peditham hi sui vellyn?” (Can we talk?) He says and I sigh as I reply, “Ú-iston,” (I don’t know) He walks up to me and putting his hand on my shoulder says, “An ngell nîn,” (Please) I quickly pull out of his embrace as I reply, “Fine, what do you wanna talk about?”

His hand lingers for a moment before he pulls it back to his side his fist clenched. “Why did you not mention that Gandalf was your father?” I roll my eyes as I say, “And why should I have had too? It’s not like it’s any of your business anyway.”

His eyes narrow as he says, “You are mad at me, Why?”

My mouth gapes in anger as I say, “Well let’s just name the reasons shall we? For starters instead of talking to me about it you believed the lie that Sauron was my father; Or perhaps that every time I try to talk to you, you ignore me yet I’m supposed to answer when you call no I don’t think so.”

He gulps down a breath of air as he says, “Amin hiraetha, _____.”

“Sorry, you’re sorry!” I yell out my anger getting the better of me. “What is going on with you? One minute you’re as cold as ice the next you’re a raging fire, I swear you’re giving my whiplash. What do you want from me?” His icy eyes search mine as he thinks of what to say. I start to turn away again when he grabs my elbow holding me in place. “Melamin,” My body freezes at the sudden endearment.

Slowly I turn back to see his eyes full of sadness and longing. “What?” I say my eyes staring deep into his. “I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I should have talked to you before passing judgment.” I smirk as I say, “It’s just your father in you.” He smiles as he reaches up and gently starts running his fingers along my jaw line. I gulp down a breath of air as his lips start to near my own; but before they touch I push away from him and say, “I can’t do this. I can’t be what you want me to be.” He stares at me confused before he asks, “Mankoi?”

I sigh as I walk out of his grasp and back to the edge of the balcony, “Because I don’t know what is to become of me. I may not be Sauron’s daughter but he did something to me when I was very young and because of that he has some weird connection to me.” He starts to walk over to me but I hold my hands up as I say, “Please don’t, I don’t want you to end up like your father.”

“What do you mean?” I sigh as I say, “Legolas I know your future, and I am not in it.” He stares wide eyed at me and he opens his mouth to say something but just shakes his head and turns around. I grit my teeth as I watch him walk back toward the Great Hall. Right before he reaches the door he turns around and says, “Quel kaima mela en' coiamin,”

My heart clenches as he walks back inside. I didn’t want him to go but I couldn’t get his hopes up just in case I was to fall in the upcoming battle; or if I was to end up becoming just another pawn in Sauron’s evil plot. I look back toward Fili and smile slightly as I walk over to him and giving him a quick pat curl up beside him and quickly fall asleep.

Will Continue in - A Past Revealed

Tags

@Talknerdytome25 @renner-hawkeyeloves @jotink78 @ohmigooosh @laurykat23

#berjhawn #lord of the rings fanfiction #The Lord of the Rings #lord of the rings #lotr fanfic #LOTR #legolas x reader #legolas fanfiction #legolas greenleaf #legolas

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

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Survey #45

“i want blood, guts, and chocolate cake.”

how many keys are on your key chain? what do they go to? two; one goes to each lock in my house. have you ever taken a pregnancy test? nah. what is something that always makes you feel pretty? eye liner. does the thought of moving out from home scare you? yeah... i'm totally ill-prepared for life on my own. have you taken anyone’s virginity? no. on average, how many pizza slices do you eat in one sitting? four, 'cuz i'm a fatass. have you ever gotten a matching piercing or tattoo with someone? yes, "ohana" tat with my best friend. ever made out in a pool? not sure actually. own bright colored underwear? no. do you have a leather jacket? no, but i've wanted one for years. :( do you have weak upper body strength? yes. what movie did you last watch with someone? the new "tarzan" do you think people are intimidated by you? hell no. do you often take painkillers? no. do you wish you were in a relationship? fuckin' tired of being alone. do you ever feel guilty eating meat? not really. what are you listening to at the moment? "think twice" by eve 6 have you fallen asleep in school? nope have you ever been hospitalized? yeah do you eat when you’re upset? YEP what sort of music were you brought up on? classic metal and rock is it hard to make you laugh? very. nothing's funny when you're a depressed fuck. is there a member of the opposite gender on your mind? fucking always what would you do if your ex called you? answer in a damn heartbeat while fangirling on the inside and probably having an anxiety attack is there anyone you hate? merely "hate" is too weak what is your background on your phone? lock screen is the bogeyman from "silent hill: downpour," but the artwork is from anne's comic. my home screen is pyramid head from white hunter have you ever taken a nap with a member of the opposite sex? i miss our naps... is there anything that you and your friends simply can’t agree on? sure. think about your ex, your crush, or the person you’re currently dating. were you attracted to that person as soon as you met them, or did the attraction develop over time? i thought he was a bit weird-looking but handsome at the same time??? it's weird. as far as personality goes, wow. i liked him so quickly. which do you use the most, smiley faces, kisses or hearts? smilies what’s the last thing you said to the last person you kissed? via writing, "because i promised." via actual words, i don't recall. would you feel okay about going to your parents for advice about sex and contraception? mom, totally. dad, no. has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? yup. no regrets though, 'cuz if i don't love you, i don't love you. what did you do on your latest birthday? went to texas steakhouse with family and friends favorite dog breed? beagles, shiba inus, chow-chows... what is your favorite not-so-famous band/artist? otep have you ever had any teeth pulled? no have you ever seen two movies at the theater in a row? no do you own a nightgown? no have you ever actually been stuffed into a locker? no. thought that was going to be a much bigger problem as a kid. how many teenagers do you know who have babies? too many to count. do you get your surveys from your subscriptions page or do you actually go to specific sites and search for them? i get most of them from fellow survey-takers on tumblr. do you want to get pregnant right now? omg how funny, i actually had a dream i was in labor with a baby girl last night. jason was the dad somehow. but anyway, no, i do not. have you ever housed a friend for a long period of time because they had no place to live? nope. if you have younger siblings, are you very protective of them? hurt her and i swear to christ you die. if you have older siblings, are they very protective of you? i mean, i guess she somewhat is? like she worries about me, so does that count? have you ever wanted to be in a band? ha ha yup. the song you’re listening to right now? "teen idle" by marina and the diamonds have you ever had a concussion? ugh, yeah. have you seen the movie the dark knight? yeah. joker made me love it. can't even watch it anymore tho... ptsd trigger. guys with six packs, yes or no? sure? cool if you have one, cool if you don't. do you know anyone who has a pet gecko? yep. would you ever go bear hunting? no, nor would i go hunting in general. describe one of your most emotional farewells. he just... fucking left. we were talking on facebook; he was hanging out with dillon, talking about our relationship, then he said he wanted to end it because he couldn't handle me anymore. i can't remember what i said, but i guess it was cryptic or dangerous enough for him to wind up at my door, because i'd charged into the kitchen to slit my throat, but i ended up on the couch sobbing to my mom. i just screamed at him when he got here, shrieked through tears. he said we could still be friends. liar. then he left. still hasn't come back. how have your tastebuds changed since you were a child? uhhh. i liked peas as a kid. can't stand them now. did you find it difficult to learn how to drive? if you do not know how to drive, would you ever like to learn? yes, it's hard, imo. mostly due to my anxiety, though, i over-exaggerate every driving situation that presents itself to me. do you own plants? if so, what kind of plants? if not, would you like to grow any? not anymore, and no, because i'm too fucking depressed to take care of them. when was the last time you felt at peace? i'm pretty sure the answer's never. what’s one thing that's heavily weighing on your mind? just one? psh. are you self conscious? holy fuck yeah. but then again, no? and by that i mean, like, i barely put any effort into my appearance. for example, i only get dressed in actual clothes if i have to go somewhere and i like NEVER wear makeup. yet simultaneously, i care very much what people think about me, particularly when it comes down to my weight. do you think of others before yourself? it depends on the situation, really. i have to start thinking of myself sometimes. what are your plans for your next birthday? eat out for dinner with friends and family, maybe get tipsy enough to not care about life, get a tattoo. are you friends with your neighbors? nope. what’s your favorite planet? saturn! do you sing in the shower? no what's your favorite disney movie? tlk what do you do when you can't sleep? get back on the laptop, usually... do you know anyone who is blind? in one eye, yes. do you have a good singing voice? nope do you ever listen to music in languages besides english? german, yes. when you're sad do you prefer sad music or happy music? SAD. happy music will make me angry. do you have a favorite type of bird? owls did you have a webkinz when you were younger? FUCK YEAH I DID would you rather go to japan or greece? wow that's hard. uhhhh... greece? why is the world still existing? god doesn't want it to end yet? did america really put a man on the moon? i think so. are there any television shows you’re looking forward to in the next few months? no, i don't watch tv. when it’s time to dress up for a special occasion, are you more likely to wear a dress, a skirt, or dress pants? dress, i guess. what band/celebrity/etc do you know the most information about? who would you like to learn more about? i know a bit too much about ozzy osbourne lmao the last news you got that shocked you, what was it, and was it good news or bad news? bad. if you have pets, who normally puts food and water in their dish? depends on the pet have you ever taken a "break" of any sort in a relationship? no, i don't believe in taking breaks. do you organize the pictures on your computer into different folders or are they all just under "my pictures"? in my old laptop, they were organized. new one, nah, 'cuz i don't have many pictures. do you think if someone is in a relationship, that it is acceptable to have sleepovers with other people of their preferred sex? sure, so long they're not doing sexual things. do you feel uncomfortable sharing things like artwork or poetry you've written? Is it because you don't think it's good enough to show off or because it's too personal? FUCKING YES BC IT'S PERSONAL have you ever played a drinking game? which ones? i have not. do you like word or picture tattoos better? pictures, generally. have you ever tasted goat’s milk? no. have you cried in the past week? yeah do you think you could handle having an autistic or mentally disabled child? i sure would hope so. if you were given the chance to go scuba diving, would you? hell yeah! have you ever seen a live seahorse? yep. what color did you first ever dye your hair? i got purple highlights sour skittles or regular? sour when did you last visit a tattoo parlor? what were you in there for? do you often go into tattoo parlors? some months ago when i had to photograph a person who works with their hands doing their work. it was cool. i don't go to tat parlors often, though. i wish! in the past year, have you lost weight or gained weight? how much? don't wanna go into how much i gained... is there a specific time you eat lunch every day, or is it always different? i eat at exactly 12 PM

#survey #quiz #questionis #asks #answered

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foxhenki-blog · 6 years

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On Pain Of Sickness

FRONT MATTER

This brief hiatus wasn’t intentional. I had planned to keep up regular posts all the way through the end of the new year and into the next as a sign of strength, as a way to keep the momentum going. Saturn and Capricorn, or as Gordon White and Austin Coppock labelled this 2018 dynamic duo, Black Phillip, had other plans, wouldn’t they always have plans that are not your own?

My entire household came down with what was at first persistent coughs. This drove us into the industrial medical complex, where a really very nice doctor diagnosed two ear infections, a sinus infection, and bronchitis for myself. While we were there they also gave us an invisible party gift, a violent twenty-four hour stomach flu.

The kids and wife had it in succession, slept for a day or so, and were back at it. The pharmiko-potions prescribed by the really very nice doctor began working, and then the flu turned its eyeless head and looked at me. I got the bug on New Year’s Eve Day. I had all these fantastic plans to blankly stare at social media and drink rum with the saints on my shelf, maybe watch some Dave Chappelle… Alas, this bug took its turn in my body and instead I was quite literally transported out of 2017 into a plane of pain and suffering. This flu had me so violently ill that literally in the middle of a, um, ‘wave’ lets call it lest I lose all my readers for too graphic a portrayal, my thoughts turned towards the shamanic initiatory experience. I felt like this must be what it is like to be magically initiated, truly initiated. I went to bed after the first wave with these thoughts in my head.

My, ‘training,’ from 2017 actually came in kind of handy at this point. As I lay in this twilight realm, this living Hellraiser mattress scene, my thoughts inexplicably turned to every gross food item I had eaten in my life and every gut-churning quick rollercoaster motion and looking over the parapet wall of a high building I had ever experienced. It was ludicrous, it was if the virus had not only control of my body but was attacking my mind as well, using it to quickly initiate the next attack. I was so cognizant of all of this imagery I think because of the mind-body work I’ve done in 2017, my year of magical reawakening. Not wanting to experience a repeat (at least not so soon) of the violation that had just occurred, I focused my thoughts on the only thing I could think of that calmed both my mind and body, an ice cold glass of water. My thoughts would move (were forced [I’m still very suspicious of the psychic power this virus had]) away from my psychic glass of water and I would bring it back in focus. I managed to lie comfortably for quite awhile. The next wave, and the one after that, were inevitable, but the timeless space in between was more comfortable and probably lasted longer because of my increased ability to control my mind. It was just around midnight, as a dozen or so neighbors lit off entirely too large fireworks to mark the changing of the calendar, that the wave’s stopped. My out breathes were accompanied with sigh/groans of great relief and again my thoughts turned towards the shamanic initiation experience and, moreover, how I’ve never had one, not really.

In my late twenties I was given the opportunity to ingest peyote and spend an evening on Papago ruins next to the Salt River near Tempe, Arizona. That wasn’t my first psychedelic experience by any means, my troubled twenties were full of them, but it promised to be a more profound one due to setting and the sacredness of the vehicle. From what I understand, most people have a reaction somewhat similar to what I’ve just described as the gate they walk through leading to the realm of Mescalito. For whatever reason, that wasn’t the case for me. The others that partook of the sacrament had this reaction and I sat on the sidelines, watching their initiation, while I passed into the diamond-shaped atom twilight unaffected. The experience did stick with me, for years really, and it was the first one of these experiences where I felt the presence of the ally inside the molecule, where a conversation took place between something other than just myself. I always thought, however, in the back of my head, that somehow I hadn’t gotten it quite right.

It’s funny to think of a flu bug as an initiator into a different realm of consciousness, I guess. This is how I feel though. Maybe it was my year of magic, maybe its the fact that I am a generally very stout individual that rarely gets sick at all, let alone the next level 28 Days Later death flu. It took me longer to recover than the other members of my family. I remained weak, my head fogged, my body ruined. This period, maybe more than the event itself, felt like what a psycho-magical initiation was supposed to be. A slow building back to a healthy state, similar to the one that you lived in before but certainly different. I can’t shake how I was able to use the journeying / active imagination portion of my magical training to cling to health and reality during the event. I can’t shake the feeling I had, while in the grips of these violent ‘waves’, that I was being permanently altered both physically and psychically.

That’s the trick that I missed, I think, the duality of the initiatory experience. I can’t count how many times in the grips of other molecules that I’ve been broken down to an emotional speck hearing voices in Flatland, have been altered psychically. These were never really accompanied by a physical ‘altering’, though. I’m convinced now that this is what is required to be truly initiated. The physical altering, for many cultures, is all that required and is the catalyst for the psychic component of initiation. American Indians have known this for thousands upon thousands of years . Fasting, exposing oneself at a young age to the extremes of nature, the becoming of a creature that the Great Spirit, the Creator, as my late Ojibwe mentor would say, Gichi-Manidoo, becoming a creature that Gichi-Manidoo can take pity on, to become a pitiable creature worthy of help, these are individuals experiencing initiation.

This is not what thousands of youths today eating ‘E’ (or whatever the hell the new ‘thing’ is [bath salts?]) at Coachella or Burning Man are achieving. This is not a modern experience. I know now, that’s the point.

IMBRICATIONS

Which brings me to our imbrications for this week and another change, well, not an overt one, but a subtle change to the things I share here. I’ve mentioned in passing that I was privileged to study under a Bad River Ojibwe elder during my undergraduate education. Primarily, my studies were linguistic but with language you cannot avoid culture (something a lot of linguistics don’t grasp). My teacher, I’ll call him Buck here, primarily because there are traditional taboos for speaking an individuals name after they walk on, or rather, there is a need to change how their name is said, but also it is a bit too painful to say his name out loud for me still. All last year, as I was learning about Western magic, I saw so many parallels to what I learned under Buck, or what he forced me to learn rather. You see, when I came into his class I was still in possession of a fairly hardcore materialist mindset. Part of that setting of the mind was a mission to maintain a type of anthropological detachment to the culture portion of the language I was learning and the people I was learning about. That didn’t quite work out for me and I can look back now on more than a few opportunities that I missed while operating under these illusions, opportunities for growth and connection.

But as I was saying, all through the year I was making these connections but I didn’t want to speak on them, or rather, I really struggled with if I should speak on them or not. In doing so, was I contributing to the appropriation of Ojibwe culture? Was I being appropriative just by making these mental connections to the western magical tradition? Would I be harming the community that embraced me?

I’ve come to the decision that I will speak about my experiences and share what I was taught. More specifically, when it is relevant, I will use the knowledge and exposure I was gifted to the Ojibwe and other American Indian cultures to ensure that the right information is out there and the connections that are made, if any, to western magic, are appropriate and the right boundaries are set.

That said, this week’s imbrications will begin with a video from the Ojibwe elder, a teacher of my teacher, Jim Jackson. I took three formal semesters of Ojibwe (prior to being asked to join the local language community round table), Buck’s normal two semesters and a hard-won third semester of independent study. Each semester, at some point, Buck would roll out this ancient video tape of Jim Jackson speaking on the Ojibwe Vision Quest and other spirito-cultural subjects.

The next two videos I found while hunting for some trace of Jim Jackson on the internet. It’s from a fellow by the name of Larry Gibag. This guy’s teachings are authentic and very much in line with the type of things that I learned from Buck and the community at the Congregation of the Great Spirit. There is a lot of resonance here with some of the things taught in the Hygromantiea around magical timing and when to pick specific herbs.

and finally, we’ll close this section out with Jim Jackson again, talking about the spirits of the Four Directions. This made sense in context the first times I watched it during Buck’s courses. My context is wider now (by about one billion light years) and the way Jim Jackson talks about spirits in the Ojibwe context resonates like giant bell. Let me be clear, I’m not in any way advocating a ‘Unified Spirit Field Theory’ or anything like that, and I’m still working through the whole ‘certain spirits only talk to people of certain genetic encoding’ while at the same time, as I’ve mentioned, being quite guarded against cultural appropriation. Just a very brief glance at the dozens of white bearded hipster idiots with YouTube videos on ‘How to Vision Quest’ is enough to convince any relatively educated magician that being open about our responsibility to actively fight against appropriation is still very much necessary. I still want to share Jim Jackson’s video on the subject because I am confident of its authenticity and importance.

CHANGELINGS AND MAGICIANS

Shifting gears, let’s examine this week’s Lovecraft tale, Pickman’s Model. From what I understand, or have come to understand, Pickman’s Model is a fairly infamous short story and one beloved by many a Lovecraft scholar. This was my first read-through of it (or the first that I remember, anyway) and its differences from Lovecraft’s other work is palpable.

The first thing that struck me was Lovecraft’s commentary on visual art. I had previously seen him only as a man of letters. It’s clear that his cultural DNA extended to the visual as well. As I’ve done before with the author’s (both real and unreal) that Lovecraft mentions, I’ll record those artists that he invokes in Pickman. Here he makes mention of Fuseli, Dore, Sime, and Angarola as being analogous to the infamous Pickman.

Sidney Sime is of particular interest, and an artist I hadn’t been aware of. He was Lord Dunsany’s primary illustrator. This make’s sense that Lovecraft would be a fan, since he took so much literary influence from Dunsany. I found this amazing (and quite resonant with the modern rise of Santa Muerte) illustration entitled ‘The Ultimate God’ over at a quite ancient blog post (2011) from a delightfully current blog of the name ‘Monster Brains’

Anthony Angorola, an Italian immigrant who studied in Chicago and was a contemporary of Lovecraft is also new to me. I can’t find much of his work online and most of it, like the below illustration, is related to the book ‘The Kingdom of Evil’ by Ben Hecht. Again, it doesn’t seem like Lovecraft’s visual presence falls too far outside of his strong preference for the cult of the word.

If you’re interested in learning more about Lovecraft’s favorite visual artists, this article over at TOR does a much better job of it than I have time for.

Pickman’s model has the familiar anonymous narrator speaking of the antagonist to a compatriot whilst getting quite drunk through the course of the narrative. The first bit that I picked up on in the story follows:

“You know” [Pickman] said, “there are things that won’t do for Newbury Street — things that are out of place here, and that can’t be conceived here, anyhow. It’s my business to catch the overtones of the soul, and you won’t find those in a parvenu set of artificial streets on made land. Back Bay isn’t Boston — it isn’t anything yet, because its had no time to pick up memories and attract local spirits. If there are any ghosts here, they’re the tame ghosts of a salt marsh and a shallow cove; and I want human ghosts — the ghosts of beings highly organized enough to have looked on hell and known the meaning of what they saw.”

I found this to be a really curious exploration of ‘spirits of place’ in an urban context that I had not yet seen Lovecraft explore. The idea of urban environment’s ‘attracting local spirits’ makes a kind of intuitive sense to me. Probably because I tend towards an ecological model of the spirit world, that is, I see spirits as part of the overall natural world and not distinct from it (and therefore somehow above the way the rest of the natural world works). A modern city, or a suburb, or any recently built series of wooden and concrete ape caves take awhile to attract wildlife back into it. They take time to adapt to the new surroundings, to carve out ecological niches, to learn how to take advantage of it. What Lovecraft is getting at above, I believe, is more of the same. Spirits of place, local spirits, exist in the world, but stay away from our newly constructed environments. It takes time for them to expand their spirit ecology niches back into the spaces that we’ve claimed.

The narrator’s description of Pickman and his conscious choice to live in older and ostensibly ‘harder’ parts of Boston reminds me quite a bit of Austin Spare. While there isn’t a way to connect a direct vector between Spare and Pickman at the time the story was written, it is difficult to not see it when we view the tale in a more modern context.

Lovecraft names the infamous Cotton Mather again, referencing his work, Magnolia and Wonders of the Invisible World. This quote I found interesting:

“[Cotton] Mather, damn him, was afraid somebody might succeed in kicking free of this accursed cage of monotony...”

as it leads my thoughts to how witchcraft can be used to free one from the mundane and how the mundane is viewed as a type of prison.

The narrator shifts from recounting his adventures with Pickman to quoting directly the man’s own thoughts:

“There were witches and what their spells summoned; pirates and what they brought in from the sea; smugglers; privateers — and I tell you, people knew how to live, and how to enlarge the bounds of life, in the old times! This wasn’t the only world a bold and wise man could know — faugh!”

Which I view as more criticism of the materialist mindscape and championing of the ‘Other’, those that see past society. I think Lovecraft, even though he was so proper and allegedly part of proper society in Providence was really deeply a member of the counter-culture and identified much closer with the marginalized then those critics that take his prose in a modern, decontexualized sense would have you believe.

and then, the most interesting part of Pickman’s model, shifting back to our narrator and his description of Pickman’s paintings:

“There was none of the exotic technique you see in Sidney Sime, none of the trans-Saturnian landscapes and lunar fungi that Clark Ashton Smith used to free the blood. The backgrounds were mostly old churchyards, deep woods, cliffs by the sea, brick tunnels, ancient panel led rooms, or simple vaults of masonry. Copp’s Hill Burying Ground, which could not be many blocks away from this very house, was a favorite scene.”

and against these backgrounds we are described what Lovecraft labels as ‘Changelings’, Dog-man hybrid beings evolved from mortal children stolen as infants, their evolution coming from feeding on bodies and from the liminal places, as described in the quote above, that they live.

I recently acquired a copy of ‘The Necronomicon Files’ by Daniel Harms and John Wisdom Gonce III and in that book there is an essay entitled ‘Lovecraftian Magic - Sources and Heirs’ by Gonce that speaks to Lovecraft’s Changelings when referencing how A Thousand and One Arabian Nights was a great influence on the author:

“What would Lovecraft have learned from such studies? He would have learned about a fascinating menagerie of Islamic genies and monsters: a sub-species of djinn known as the ghoul that dwells in cemeteries and festered places and eats human flesh, an Arab werewolf (or perhaps were-hyena) Calle the qutrub that is a man or woman who transforms into a beast at night and eats corpses.”

Gonce goes on to call out Pickman’s Model specifically and the qutrub as the likely source for the Changelings, but in the same breath he quotes Lovecraft as being relieved that his personal studies moved from the world of the Arabian Nights and into a more Graeco-Egyptian context. This makes me wonder if Lovecraft wasn’t also exposed to beings such as Hermanubis and the other cynocephalic creatures and Gods in the Graeco-Egyptian world. I find that Lovecraft’s Changelings are the strongest thread we can pull on when baking Pickman’s Model into our new model of Lovecraftian magic, of Lovecraft’s oeuvre as grimoire.

Pickman himself is too strong an archetype to ignore and I find that he resonates the most with one of the most powerful and primal trumps, The Magician.

Ettellia’s ‘Le Magician Ou Le Battler’ combines the qualities of the Magician and the Fool. The keyword for both the upright and the reversed on this card is the same, Maladie, bringing us full circle with the themes in this week’s exploration. Maladie, from late 13c. Old French means ‘sickness, illness, and disease’. It is also related to the PIE root, *ghabh-, which means to give or receive and by extension from PIE is related to the words inhabit, exhibition, exhibit, and binnacle, or ‘little dwelling place’. Pickman, the artist, is banned from exhibiting his work and is described as inhabiting a squalid and dark dwelling deep in in Boston’s North End.

Pulling from Holistic Tarot, we find that this card represents creative power and the ‘limitless capabilities of the mind when it is concentrated’. Another apt description of Pickman. He is a bridge between the conscious and the unconscious, or in Pickman’s case, the mundane and the fantastic. Benebell mentions that the Magician is an individual that ‘can grasp the knowledge of the universe’. Pickman and his knowledge of the world of the Changelings, the greater chaos spirits that visit him in his subterranean studio, and how one needs to find both the physical and psychic limits of experience to gain such knowledge and apply it, is such an individual.

#Vision Quest #Initiation #Appro

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