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#loburn
maidish · 2 years
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loburnic!
(hauburnic below…)
a gender relating to the feeling you get when someone “lights your heart aflame”, one could consider it a type of lovegender. you may also id with warmth, candles, hearts, and pleasant smells. this gender can be about platonic or romantic love!
etymology: lo - love, ic - fun suffix tbh, may be replaced with ‘gender,’ ‘boy,’ ‘girl,’ ‘conic,’ etc
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hauburnic!
a gender related to telling ghost stories (with loved ones) or spooking loved ones. one could consider it a type of ghostgender. it may feel ghost-like yet loved. you may also id with candles, haunted places, graveyards, and pranking.
etymology: hau - haunt, ic - same as above
they have two versions for each just for fun ^^
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buyakasha · 2 years
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very rough concepts for a dog fakemon i wanted to see in Scarlet/Violet when i learned about the past/future aesthetic. the idea was you could get the puppy in both games, but depending on the game, the professor gives you an item that helps it evolve into one of the grown dogmon. in Scarlet you receive the Paleo Band, and in Violet you receive the Tech Collar
Chispup
Species: The Spark Pokemon Type: Normal/Ground Made of clay surrounding a vital core, Chispup are rare, powerful pokemon who befriend only the kindest of hearts. It is thought the first pokemon to be tamed by early mankind was a Chispup. They are loyal to a fault, and like clay, are easily moulded by their trainer. If treated badly by the one they trust most, they become brittle, and can break. But if treated well, they are capable of incredible change and growth.
Loburn
Species: The Hearth Pokemon Type: Rock/Fire Legend tells that the first Loburn came to be when a Chispup evolved to save it’s human companion from freezing. When faced with the near death of it’s friend, the core within the small pokemon burned so fiercely, the clay around it baked and fell away, releasing a pokemon of flame and the hardest stone. Loburn represent the bond between early pokemon and man in the harshest of conditions, and how the two species evolved together. Modern professors have found a way to release this evolution under less stressful conditions, using the Paleo Band.
Amperro
Species: The Automation Pokemon Type: Steel/Electric
Inspired by the historic evidence that Loburn did not exist until human intervention, professors were eager to see if modern aspects could influence the evolution of this pokemon. They discovered that by introducing metal in the form of the Tech Collar to a Chispup with a strong bond to it’s trainer changes the outcome. The burning core within the pokemon super-heats and purifies the metal, becoming a steel body, while the heat converts into electricity. An entirely new species was born; Amperro represents the perseverance and tenacity of both species, and where creativity can take them in the future.
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thewatchau · 3 years
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Settlements of House Schneeplestein: Loburn
Most of the lore in the upcoming series will be edited compilations of dozens of posts from the last two years. While there are some minor new details sprinkled throughout, I’ve attempted to post significant new information in a “Watch AU Fun Fact” post so you don’t have to read all of these HUGE posts to find them.
Other Posts in this Series:
Minor Settlements of House Schneeplestein:  Cnocrann • Loburn • Begdor • Fadáite Sólas • Iolla Sanitariums •  Airceann Bridge (Town) • Roabeál
Posts Related to this Series:
Regional Capital: Fionport • Watch Locations: Domhainn Outlook Outpost, Iolla Beacon Outpost
Related Series: House Schneeplestein Masterlist
In This Post
Summary
Name Origin
History
Layout
Trivia
Additional Art
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Summary
Loburn is a booming town on the road from Fionport to Iolla Cliffs in House Schneeplestein, Duilintinn. A well-respected place for doctors to study and patients to get checked up on their way to and from the Iolla Sanitariums, Loburn was the childhood home of Ivy Paris and Charles Greenwood-Paris.
Name Origin
Loburn is a shortened form of the town's original name of Loinnearach Burn, which translates to “clear water.” Depending on who you ask, the name was chosen as a metaphor referencing Loburn’s role as a place of healing and rest, or references the clear stream that runs near the town. 
History
Loburn started out as a simple stopping point for travelers along the road between Fionport and the Iolla Cliffs. Originally, the "town" consisted of nothing more than an inn and a small medical practice within the Paris family home, run by Ivy and Charles's father Cyril Paris.
However, when Lord Schneeplestein was titled and House Schneeplestein was born, Loburn swiftly grew into a busy, prosperous town. Over the course of 25 years, Cyril and his wife Helen Paris got to watch the town grow from barely a few buildings into the well-known respite for the sick and weary it is today.
Layout
There’s farmland south towards the Airceann River, mostly root vegetables. However, most of Loburn's resources come from wagons on their way to and from the Iolla Cliffs, which trade with the town for medicines and other goods.
Loburn's older buildings are built in the white stone, clay tile style of Waldren Occupation architecture, while the newer ones are built from wood and stone. Among the locations featured in Loburn are a guard barracks, place of worship, town hall, two inns on opposite ends of the town, a school, several medical practices, a business district, several taverns, and residential housing. 
The inns have ground floor rooms set aside for sick patients on their way to Iolla Cliffs, both for easy accessibility and to avoid the stares (or vulnerable immune systems) of healthy patrons.
A small, chalk-based stream runs near the town, notable for its fast, crystal clear flow.
Trivia
Loburn was created by tumblr user @theshapeshifter100​
Additional Art
Layout of Loburn by @theshapeshifter100​
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theshapeshifter100 · 4 years
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Western Forest
(Day 18 of @thewatchau‘s Annual Prompts! Coming are characters I’ve not put out work for. Their profiles exist. You will find Layla under House Schneeplestien and Lacy under Unaffiliated. More explanations at the end if you don’t want to click the link)
Lacy slammed the door behind her and screamed at nothing.
No one was listening! No one cared because she was still here!
She grabbed the pillow from the bed and flung at the door with a final roar before sitting on the bed, feet dangling over the floor. It wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t FAIR!
She didn’t want to be here! She didn’t want to smell salt instead of earth and trees. She wanted to be with her brothers, to climb trees with Eider and for Marigold to carry her on her shoulders.
She wanted hug her Momma as she cooked, watching her chop herbs and roots.
All the anger in her chest was replaced by something cold and empty. Lacy brought her knees up to hug them, suddenly trying not to cry. She just wanted to go home.
Someone knocked on the door, but they went ignored.
“Lacy, it’s me,” said Lacy’s not-really-cousin-but-might-as-well-be Layla. “Can I come in?”
She didn’t know why she asked. It wasn’t her room.
“Fine,” Lacy didn’t move and the door cracked open.
“You know, I think they heard that shouting match in Fionport!” Layla tried to joke, but it fell flat. Lacy didn’t know where Fionport was.
When Lacy didn’t respond Layla sighed and came into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“What’s the point?” Lacy spat. “No one listens.”
“It’s hard not to listen,” Layla sat on the bed. “You want to go home, and it makes sense.”
“Then why won’t they let me?!”
“If I were to guess, it’s cold and miserable and not a good time of year to travel,” Layla shrugged.
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care now because you’re warm and dry. You’ll care when it’s raining and pitch black and there’s no shelter in sight.”
Lacy grumbled about warm clothes and running away.
“Even then, will you be able to find your way back?” Layla asked, “with short days and whatever dangers are in the Western Forest?”
“It’s not dangerous,” of course it wasn’t. She’d spent her whole life there. Also it wasn’t the ‘Western’ Forest, it was just The Forest. Something else weird about these people.
“It can be when you’re on your own.”
Lacy didn’t respond for a minute, staring resolutely at the wall.
“…Elliot said I might get struck by lightning,” Lacy mumbled into her knees.
“It’s possible.”
“When will the weather get better?” she could leave when that happened. Both uncles had promised.
Layla didn’t answer immediately, which got Lacy suspicious. She looked at her cousin and narrowed her eyes.
“You’re just going to make something stupid up!”
“No, no I’m not,” Layla replied calmly. “I was just thinking. Maybe April? Actually May’s better, less likely to be raining.”
“That’s ages!”
“Yes, but it will be safer.”
Lacy sighed, then leaned her head to rest it on Layla’s arm.
“…I miss my Momma…”
“I know,” Layla wrapped an arm around the young girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Lacy didn’t respond, and the two sat there, listening to sound of rain pattering against the roof.
(This is about October 1614. The lead up to this is that Lacy and her uncle Elliot are from Fasithe, specifically the cult bit, Elliot kidnapped her to get them out of there, but Lacy doesn’t know why. She’s seven and just wants to go home, and no one’s telling her the real reason she can’t go back and she knows there’s something they’re not telling her. All they’re parroting at her is that it’s not safe.
Layla, while being sympathetic, is also in on the real reason why, even if she doesn’t know all the details (Elliot and Lacy end up at Ivy’s childhood home)
I have a thing written for this I just need to submit it!)
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lgbhistory · 3 years
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Lesbian summer camps in New Zealand
Between 1975 and 1991 there were nine summer camps organized by lesbians in Canterbury (a region on New Zealand's island) and also a separate weekend camp at Nolan House in Kirwee.
Those camps were not just a holiday getaway, but a solace for lesbians, a place where they could be with their community, together, a place where they could feel free to be themselves.
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The 1970s camps were initiated by Christchurch feminist lesbians who wanted somewhere cheap to take their children on holiday, and somewhere private where they would not have to deal with the negative reactions of straight people. 
Advertised by word of mouth, the camps were attended each year by about 30 lesbians and their children. 
They took musical instruments and made songs, told stories, swam and sunbathed, played cards, shot and cooked possums and created a lesbian language.
As one of the campers said "At camp we created our own reality."
The second series of camps were held at the Boys' Brigade Camp, Waipara, from 1985 to 1987, at Stavely Campsite in 1988, and at Leigh Camp, Loburn, from 1989 to 1991. 
The women who held it tended to be more middle class than the earlier organisers; more had come out through the women's movement, and they called their camps 'Womyn's Summer Camps', inviting both lesbians and 'lesbian-oriented' women.
These camps were bigger, more structured, and widely advertised in lesbian and feminist magazines and organisations throughout New Zealand and overseas. They attracted lesbians from around New Zealand and were a focal point for travellers from other countries.
Due to precautions and confrontations, the organizers didn'd advertise the location of the first club and booked it as the 'Women's Health and Fitness Club'.
The period was one of challenge and questioning among Christchurch lesbians, and the organisers were initially wary of potential conflicts, for example over children, access for disabled women, and how the all-Pākehā organisers could make Māori lesbians welcome.
Lesbians came to camp overwhelmingly to relax and have fun. They played softball, canoed, tramped and ran a huge variety of workshops.
For many lesbians, the camps were a safe space to try out teaching and presentation skills. There were concerts, dances, home-made videos and a circus. Short affairs and long relationships started and ended.
Huge circles of women welcomed newcomers, debated how to deal with intrusive teenage boys at the swimming hole, and invented ad hoc rituals to celebrate lesbian heritage.
For many, the strongest memory was of the communal swimming and sunbathing, the feeling of safety and freedom that came with being naked in the sunshine among so many other lesbians. 
Back in the city the euphoria spilled into rounds of parties, and in 1987 a weekend mid-winter camp was held at Arthur's Pass.
About 150 women and 20 children attended the camp.
The second series of camps ended partly because of the difficulty finding site-owners willing to lease to lesbians.
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warlockonetrick · 3 years
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Campaign - Etearos
Character - Osiris Black
Race/Class - Human Variant/Archfey Patron Warlock
Notes:
- Travelled along with fellow noble, Felix Hawkridge, to my home city of Loburn to deal with the oncoming crisis of impending war.
- Find out my parents died in an explosion about two years ago while I was off in the Feywild. It is of no consequence and really did me a favour.
- Felix organises for the Viscount of Loburn to gather the other nobles and dignitaries necessary to cause a sue for peace.
- We briefly look around Manor Black and find it deserted. No sign of my sister. Nor is there any sign of her or my best friend at said friend's apartments in the inner city.
- Felix and I are fetched by an equerry to the Viscount to bring us to the war council.
- Through Felix's negotiation skills and my political chess-playing, we manage to dissuade the forces in Loburn from going to war.
- To ensure the mercenary band do not backstab us, I give them access to Manor Black to use as a base of operations.
- We travelled to the the temple of Wisdom to try and track down my sister. We are told by other clerics that she was being hounded by an otherworldly entity.
- I suggest to Felix we thoroughly search the Manor and, due to my suspicions after hearing the description of the entity, I plan to confront my patron - Titania.
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chetzar · 4 years
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#Repost @loburn_magazine with @get_repost ・・・ loBURN Magazine Volume 9 Featuring @chetzar @briansmith_art @yubsocool Available in print and online version Loburnmagazine.com #art #artmagazine #chetzar #deanfleming #briansmithart #painting #drawing #darkart #interviews #loburnmagazine https://www.instagram.com/p/CCsDb--pCNd/?igshid=i42tnihxwvwm
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thechucky-blog · 5 years
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#new #products from the family behind @pureby.thebarrelman launched yesterday at the @swannanoa_school fair! What a great range of #upcycledfurniture made from #wine #barrels! #pure #art #recycle #recycledart #upcycle #sustainable #furniture #upcycledfurniture #barrelman #winebarrel #winebarrelstaves #staves #winebarrelart #winebarreldecor #winebarrelcreations #winebarrelfurniture #canterbury #loburn #ohoka #rangiora #swannanoa #sefton #Photo #Video by #Chucky https://www.instagram.com/p/Buje79fFVxX/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1g05subldpzsa
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hummingzone · 3 years
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'Very stupid': Lockdown vandals chop tree onto road seconds before principal drives by
‘Very stupid’: Lockdown vandals chop tree onto road seconds before principal drives by
ALDEN WILLIAMS/Stuff This is all that’s left of a pine tree near Makerikeri Bridge that fell across Dixons Rd, near Loburn north of Rangiora, when vandals chainsawed it down. A school principal was lucky not to be killed when a pair of drunken vandals felled a community’s iconic pine tree onto a road just seconds before he drove by. Stuart Priddy, principal of Loburn School in North Canterbury,…
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Unlucky prop Joe Moody suffers another <b>injury</b> and now in race to be fit for All Blacks tests
The plan to ease the All Blacks loosehead prop back into rugby via his Lincoln club turned to mud on Saturday afternoon when he suffered a significant injury to a finger while making a tackle against Ashley in Loburn in North Canterbury. It's understood he has snapped a tendon and damaged bone ... from Google Alert - Spine Injury https://ift.tt/2qiQ5bQ
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Plastic Straw Free Rangiora (Rating: G)
A documentary about saying no to plastic straws.
Filmmaker(s): North Loburn School Enviro Leaders The Outlook for Someday 2017 - Winning Film Māori Television Whakatipuranga Award
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thewatchau · 2 years
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Gathering the Hunt: Part 31
This gets sad
This goes from 30th July to 7th August 1614
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She arrived in Monacoil two days later, as early as she could as she didn’t have enough money for another two week study session. All she needed as the Enchantment Tower permission slip from Irnas.
It turned out that this time, they had actually been asleep, and looked at Ivy blearily from the door.
“What time is it?” they grumbled, rubbing their eyes as Nimbus wound her way around their ankles.
“About ten o’clock in the morning,” Ivy informed. The Mage’s studying habits hadn’t changed.
“What do you want?”
“The Enchantment Tower permission slip.”
That woke them up.
“You’ve been working on shield magic.”
“Of course,” it hadn’t been a question, but she answered anyway, and Irnas shook their head.
“You’re still at this? Fine, show me.”
Ivy held her focus in her mind and raised a simple shield in front of her. Nowhere near as advanced as Jen’s bubble shield (she had called it ‘simple’, and it made Ivy wonder how skilled at magic she was).
Irnas looked at the red shield and how Ivy was coping with it. There was no obvious strain.
“Fine,” they grudgingly handed over the permission slip, but Ivy knew they were somewhat impressed. It had only taken a month after all.
Ivy only had one day this time, so completely ignored the practice rooms in the Enchantment tower and spent as long as she could finding and reading about the single enchantment she wanted. She then took copious notes and left sometime in the wee hours.
She got a few hours sleep and left again. There was one more thing to do, collect her mother’s hagstone. She could pick up honey from almost anywhere.
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It took her a week to travel from Monacoil to Loburn. In the evenings she practiced harder than ever, the end of the preparation time almost in sight. It made her feel sick, and some nights she felt too scared or numb to practice. She forced herself to most nights.
She rode into Loburn around late afternoon. The town had changed in little ways. A new owner for the tailor’s, someone new had moved in. The old house on the outskirts had finally been torn down and the material repurposed.
Her father’s house, and her childhood home, did not have a stable, so she left Firefly at one of the local inns and walked up to the house. It was just off the main road and rather distinctive. It was a two-story building, but long and low down, with the first floor being more recent than the ground.
It still felt weird to knock, even though she hadn���t lived here in twelve years. Nearly half her lifetime.
The door opened to reveal her cousin, the more recent Dr Layla Paris. They were about the same height, with Layla having hair a lighter shade of blonde. They had similar brown eyes though, and Layla’s hair was also in a messy ponytail, although most the front was held back from her face by a hair band.
“Ivy?” Layla asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t just pop by?” Ivy responded.
“You don’t usually do that in the summer. Is everything okay?”
No, definitely not “Everything’s fine. Is my father in?”
“Yes, but he’s with patients. Do you want to wait in the kitchen?”
“It’s okay, I just need to look for something downstairs.”
Layla furrowed her brows, but decided that her older cousin probably knew more about this house than she did. She let Ivy in and the older woman made a beeline for a door by the stairs. It was normal looking, but when she opened it, she revealed a set of stairs that went down.
“You have a basement?” Layla asked.
“Mother’s old workshop.”
“Ah.”
Ivy grabbed some matches from the hall table and lit the wall lamp at the top of the stairwell. It flickered into life, revealing the dust covered stairs.
“Hold on,” Layla disappeared for a second, before coming back with a candle in a holder. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Ivy lit the candle and held it one hand. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll let Uncle Cyril know you’re here, once he’s done with this appointment.”
“Thanks.”
Layla disappeared, and Ivy began to walk down the stairs. The wood creaked under her feet, and she found herself avoiding the worst of it from muscle memory. How many times had she snuck down here to watch her mother work?
She placed the candle holder on the table and lit one of the other lanterns. It was not the room she remembered.
Gone was the mess of equipment, the burners, the vials, beakers of liquid. Now it was just empty work benches and closed cupboards. All the equipment and books had been given to the Scholar’s College, Lifemaker’s Institute and the Mage’s Guild, and anyone else who needed equipment.
The room looked so, empty, so big, without it all.
Ivy wondered over to the main workbench in the middle of the room, finger running along a scorch mark on the edge of the table. That’s what happens when you let children play with fire. She remembered that day fondly.
She took the candle holder over to the middle bench, and began lighting a few more lamps. Now, she could see.
The question that could be asked here is, why isn’t she looking in her parent’s room? She had already looked. Her mother had an old jewellery box she had gone through not long before Charles’s wedding. There had been no hagstone there. Here seemed like a good place to start.
She methodically began to go through all the cupboards and drawers one by one. Her heart stopped for a second when she found an old, black, book. She picked it up carefully, the covers coated in dust, and began to flick through.
It was a notebook, filled with old formulae, equations, and notes. Even as she flicked through it carefully, she found nothing useful. No weird notes, no code, no Feadhainn runes. Just, alchemy notes.
She put it back in the drawer she found it and continued looking.
There was nothing else. The drawers were empty, the cupboards were bare and dusty. Nothing.
With a grunt of irritation Ivy held up the candle to the cupboards. Really, there was nothing? Nothing in her mother’s safe space, where she could work in peace with minimal disturbance?
Ivy the frowned, and opened the cupboard next to the one she was looking at, then compared the two.
One of the cupboards didn’t go back quite so far.
She put the candle down and pushed herself up into the bench below, sitting on her knees as she physically compared the two. She put one hand in each and could confirm, one was shallower than the other.
She began to feel around the back of the shallower cupboard, and her fingers found a gap in the side. With a sharp tug, an inner door opened.
It swung outwards, and Ivy picked up the candle to get a better look.
Inside was a wooden box, not particularly decorative, just a small storage box. It was small enough for her grab with one hand, and she did so, pulling it out for a better look.
In the better light she could see that Feadhainn runes were lightly carved into it. She didn’t know what they said, although they looked similar to the protection saying she had written down.
She got down off the bench and placed the box there. It was locked, but the lock had degraded to the point that a hard yank could pull open the lid.
Inside was a small, straw doll, which looked like it had seen better days. It was mouldy and falling apart, so Ivy took it out and put it one side.
Below it was what she was looking for, the hagstone. It was a small grey stone, roughly triangular in shape and not polished. The hole was medium size and near the top, where a leather cord was strung through.
This was it, this was what she was looking for.
She put the hagstone to one side, and was just about to put the doll back, when she realised that the box had folded parchment inside. She carefully pulled it out, since it was yellow and brittle, and slowly unfolded it. There was something written on it.
Under the candlelight, it read as follows.
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“To whomever is reading this.
There is a high chance than am I dead, or you somehow know of my history and are looking for an easy hagstone. I cannot stop you taking it, but I ask that you consider if what you need it for is worth it.
If I am dead, then I am certain I have lived a full life by now. I have a loving husband, a sweet son, and a fiery daughter, and if by chance, any of you have discovered this, then I have this to say to you.
To my husband Cyril. Who has brought me much happiness and security over the years. You who saved my life and continue to do so, I wish the best, for you deserve all the happiness that comes your way.
To my son Charles. You are an empathetic young man, just like your father. Your empathy may hurt you sometimes, but it is a great gift. I hope you find love, and do not blame yourself for anything beyond your control. I’m sure you did all you could, and that is all you needed to do.
To my daughter Ivy. In you I see a fire burning. A fire that seeks to learn and explore, and I hope to all that is good that that fire never burns out. Go and see the world my girl, for I feel that is what you are meant to do, above all else. Do not forget however, that you have a lifetime to do so. Do not be complacent, but if you find yourself burnt out, take the time you need to reignite your flame.
Finally, if by some miracle my old family finds this. To my parents, fuck you. To my aunt and uncle, fuck you too.
To Elliot, be strong and brave. Look after your sister.
To Iris, you were always too innocent for this world. I hope it has not been too sullied.
Helen Paris”
 -
It took a few minutes for Ivy to realise it, but she was crying. Fat, salty drops of water dripped off her face and landed on the workbench. Her throat burned and she gripped the parchment far too tight, feeling it crumple in her hands.
She didn’t know where to start. She definitely had grandparents, a great uncle and aunt too on her mother’s side. And who were Elliot and Iris? Her aunt and uncle? Old friends? No way of knowing now.
Then, there were the messages from her mother, to her. Ivy didn’t know when this was written, from the sound of it before her mother fell ill or just after. Long before she joined the Guard.
Her mother had died before she joined the Guard anyway, but it was almost spooky how she knew something like that would happen. It was the kind of support, however small, that she wished she had received during those two years.
With a deep breath she put the letter to one side on the counter, not daring to fold it back up in case it fell apart. The doll went back to the box, and the hagstone and cord got wrapped around Ivy’s wrist. She extinguished the lamps and took the candle back upstairs, blowing it and the lamp at the top of the stairs out.
She left the holder in the hallway and walked into the kitchen, where she sat down heavily. She needed… she didn’t know. She didn’t know what she needed right now.
With stiff but familiar movements, Ivy collected some water for the kettle and put it on to boil. A cup of tea would be a good start, and better than downing some mead.
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You see what I mean?
Elliot you've met, since I did post him leaving Fasithe a while ago. Iris I've not written anything for, but her character profile is here.
As for the jewelry box, you can find that here.
Bard’s Note: that letter gave me WHIPLASH. Like, I went from being sad to bursting into shocked and thrilled laughter at the “fuck you”. Helen was a legend holy crap.
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theshapeshifter100 · 4 years
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Holiday Celebrations
(Day 25 of @thewatchau‘s Annual prompts, and for those celebrate it, Happy Christmas! If you don’t, have a wonderful Wednesday!
This is the longest prompt yet, nearly 4,000 words, so there will be a cut. Under the cut will also be messy eating and alcohol)
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Ivy had timed it almost perfectly, and couldn’t quite believe her luck. Iolla Beacon to Loburn, about a day’s ride since she had to cross the Aircaenn bridge and almost double back on herself. As the raven flies it would take a few hours, which would make delivering messages so much easier!
The frosty ground cracked under Firefly’s hooves, and both horse and rider could see their breath puffing out in front of them. Otto was huddled on the saddle, hiding under Ivy’s cloak. She didn’t blame him, she was wondering if she would be able to dismount when they stopped, her fingers had to be frozen to the reins by now.
She could see Loburn appearing over the horizon. The main road cut right through it, on either end was an inn. Both of them knew Ivy, as she would leave Firefly with the one she got to first that had an empty stall.
She passed the farm on the way up, and could see that the old yew just outside the village was decorated with brightly coloured ornaments hanging from its branches. Ivy’s mother had loved doing that, she’d take spare materials from her work and help shape them into suns, moons and stars.
Those were still there, Ivy’s father had a box full of them at home and brought them out to decorate the yews and box trees around the village. Among those ones were those made of wood and brightly painted, and some shaped like fruit and small dolls.
Ivy rode past it, eyes lingering on the gold and silver decorations before flicking ahead. The inn was coming up, time to see if they had a free stall.
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With Firefly safely stabled and Otto huddled on her shoulder instead and her saddlebags over the other shoulder, Ivy walked to her old home. It was just a bit further down the main road, and hadn’t changed since she was last here.
On the door hung a wreath made of holly and ivy, with the knocker just above it. Ivy reached for it, and paused. Should she knock? She used to live here, and it wasn’t like strangers had moved in.
She had the same thoughts every time, and so just shook her head and rapped the knocker against the door.
It took a second for the door to open, but when it did open it was flung open and Ivy was tackled. Otto squawked and took over to land on the roof as Ivy recovered her balance.
“Well hi Ed,” she chuckled, and the small blonde boy grinned up at her, body vibrating with excitement. He took her hand and began to pull her into the house, and she let him drag her inside. Otto followed before the door shut, wanting to be in the warm.
The front door led to an open space that usually received patients, but Ed took her back into the residentially part of the home, where everyone else was.
The kitchen was full of people. Her father Cyril was there, of course, but there was Charles, Mags, Yarra, her uncle Dennis, her aunt Abby, cousin Layla, grandpa Blane and grandma Elisa.
Ed ran over to Yarra and jumped up at him, fully expecting him to catch him. Yarra panicked and dropped the mug he was holding to catch him, while Charles dove to catch the mug before it spilt on the floor.
“Nice catch!” Layla laughed, although Ivy wasn’t sure if she meant Yarra or Charles.
“This isn’t the first time,” Charles dryly, before putting the cup on the table and quickly translating for Mags. Rena was draped over her shoulders, and Otto croaked upon seeing him, trying to land on the table.
Ivy shooed him off. “We eat there!”
With an annoyed croak he landed back on my Ivy’s shoulder and sulked.
“Hello Ivy,” her father was the only one to say hello. “You drop your bags off upstairs, although I’m afraid you’ll have to pick between sharing with either me, the boys or Mags and Charles.”
“I can just camp downstairs somewhere,” none of the above options appealed. “I’ve got a bed roll and sleep sack.”
“Wherever you feel collapsing tonight,” Cyril shrugged.
Ivy shrugged in return and left the kitchen. There was a small room next to the kitchen that wasn’t often used, somewhere quite with a small fireplace and some chairs which her parents had used when they wanted somewhere quiet.
Ivy went in there now, pushing the chairs against the wall and finally heaving her bag from her shoulders. She unbuckled the sleeping roll and laid it out on the floor and put the sleeping sack on top. She also left her riding gloves and cloak there for the time being, to be collected when it was time to go.
Back in the kitchen, Mags was giving the other side of the family some sign lessons. Cyril just smiled as Ivy came in and wordlessly handed her a mug of warm wine, which was currently over a low fire with herbs floating and seeping in their flavour.
“Ahhhhh,” Ivy sighed as the cup came into contact with her cold fingers. “So good.”
Otto croaked in jealousy, but Cyril was prepared for that as well, and held out a piece of meat for him. He took it gratefully and was soon occupied by it.
Ivy now leaned against a counter, looking around the room. It was easily one of the bigger rooms on the ground floor, excluding the area by the front door and the overnight patient room. Holly and ivy were draped around the room, and it was always a little strange for Ivy to see her namesake hung over the doorways.
Candles were also dotted everywhere, mostly on the table in the middle, but also on the countertops. Once was currently warming her back.
A few of them had bundles of herbs next to them, burning and smoking gently. The filled the room with a sweet, calming scent.
“Are you just going to hide over there dear?” Grandma Elisa asked. Her blonde hair had turned grey over the years, and a pair of glasses were permanently perched on the end of her nose.
“Just recovering from the ride,” Ivy took a sip of the mulled wine.
“Of course, you must have come a long way.”
“Just from the Beacon. Iolla,” Ivy added for clarification.
“Oh. Not so far then.”
“Still a full day’s ride. It was dark when I left and it’s getting dark now,” Ivy watched Ed get his cup filled up, a small bit of wine from the pot and the rest was water from the kettle.
Elisa made a noncommittal noise before beginning the topic she really came over to talk about.
“Did you hear about Layla?”
“That she graduated? Yes. I should offer her congratulations in person,” Ivy began to push herself off the counter, but Elisa wasn’t done.
“So glad to finally see the next generation of Dr Paris. I was worried you know, after all Charles never completed his studies.”
“For someone who likes to scoff at old traditions, you seem determined to hold onto this one.”
“It’s a useful tradition,” Elisa squared her shoulders. “Unlike the old marriage ceremonies please dear the two aren’t comparable.”
Ivy just took a long sip of her drink.
“Now, the young one, Ed, if he ever regains his voice he might become mature enough to be a doctor. Yarra might as well, if he could find a spine.”
“Grandmother,” Ivy looked over her glass. “Not everyone’s going to be a doctor, and Layla has plenty of life to live. Anyway, tonight is the night to let loose and have some fun.”
“Layla’s not the only one with plenty of life to live,” Elisa raised her eyebrow at Ivy, and Ivy almost choked on her drink.
“I, no, um.”
“You meet a lot of people, surely there’s someone. Wasn’t there that blacksmith’s boy you mentioned? Or the shepherd? The only ones to keep up with you huh?”
Ivy’s face went beet red, especially has Otto made a croaking cackle behind her, warming his feathers on the candles.
“No need to be shy dear. They sound like fine men, unless of course you’ve found that men don’t strike your fancy?”
Ivy caught Charles’s eye, and he came over, hopefully to save her from this conversation.
“Are you teasing my sister over her lack of love life?”
Or maybe not.
Ivy mouthed ‘I hate you’ to Charles, who just grinned as Elisa spoke.
“She’s getting older now, you can’t ride around Duilintinn forever you know,” she aimed that last bit at Ivy.
“Watch me,” she responded. “I don’t intend to start a family.”
“No need to close yourself off. You might change your mind.”
“Might is the key word,” Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Now, I should congratulate my cousin on her graduation.”
She moved away from the counter and approached Layla, who was in a halting conversation with Mags. Mags stood out quite a bit in the Paris household, being tall and a brunette.
“Ivy!” Mags signed, and Ivy tried to sign back, a little out of practice.
“Hi Mags!” Ivy also tried to greet Layla, but had to spell her name out. Given how Mags grinned, Ivy had spelt it wrong. “Well how do you spell it then?”
Mags spelled it correctly, and Ivy copied.
“Anyway, L A Y L A, you’re a doctor now?”
“Yeah!” Layla smiled nervously. “I’m still assisting, but, yeah. I’m a doctor…”
“You’ll be fine,” Ivy assured.
“Yeah, Uncle Cyril’s been good. Although, Grandma’s been on my back.”
“I just escaped from her,” Ivy commiserated. “It’s fine.”
Layla hummed. “Don’t you get lonely?”
Ivy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re sounding like Grandma.”
“Honest question,” Layla held her hands up for a second before continuing to try and sign. “I know I get lonely sometimes.”
Ivy thought about it for a second. “Sometimes, yeah. But I’m rarely too far from an Outpost and I know a lot of people in the Watch. So, it doesn’t bother me too much.”
“You’re a little young to settling down yet,” Mags interjected. “I was older than Ivy when I married, and I’d known Charles for seven years before that.”
“Thanks,” Layla looked a little uncomfortable now. “Still it’s, weird. I’m done studying, and now…”
“Now there’s an unending abyss of terror because everything’s been structured by others for so long and now you have to structure it and you don’t know how to do that?” Ivy took a nonchalant sip of her wine while Mags and Layla stared.
“Yes. That,” Layla agreed.
“Baby steps,” Ivy shrugged. “Try not to look too far ahead. Things go wrong, things go right. Things happen when they happen.”
“Ivy, do you need a hug?” Mags asked.
“No, I’m past that. But thanks.”
Thankfully now, the conversations fell quiet as Cyril clapped his hands. Mags didn’t hear obviously but noticed every else’s reactions. Charles came over to her as Cyril talked, translating even though Cyril tried to sign clumsily.
“Now that we’re all here and warmed up from the cold, let’s get wrapped up and head back out. I can see the glow of the bonfire from here!”
There was some good natured grumbling as people finished their drinks and went to collect their cold weather clothes. Ivy collected her thicker gloves from inside her saddle bags, an overshirt and her fur lined cloak with a hood.
She met everyone else in the front area, and found Yarra, who also stood out like a sore thumb among the Paris’s, was bundled up more than anyone else.
“I’ve not heard of anyone getting frostbite this far south,” Ivy raised an eyebrow at the scarf over his face and what looked like a second pair of gloves.
“I don’t like the cold,” Yarra responded, muffled behind his scarf.
“You don’t say,” Ivy smirked as Ed tugged on Yarra’s hand.
Otto flew in from the kitchen and landed on Ivy’s shoulder, feather preened and glossy and looking for all the world like he wasn’t going to make a nuisance of himself tonight.
Cyril collected the lantern he kept by the door and lit it before holding it up, looking over the group.
“Yarra! You’re a tall lad. How about you lead the way and I’ll point you in the right direction?”
Yarra looked terrified at the prospect. At least Ivy thought so, his eyes had gone wide.
“Don’t be shy, we’re all family here, c’mon on!” Cyril held the lantern up, and Yarra made his way towards him, Ed clamped at his side. Cyril handed him the lantern and turned to the rest of the group.
“Alright, stick together, don’t get lost, don’t drift off until we reach the amphitheatre alright? I don’t want to have to send out a rescue party tonight!”
Everyone chuckled good naturedly at the warning, and then they were off, Yarra at the head with Ed on one side and Cyril on the other.
Night had fallen over Loburn, and the temperature had fallen with it. Ivy drew her hood up and wrapped her cloak around her as the family marched towards the amphitheatre.
Not everyone had left to go there yet. As they passed some houses were still lit with candles, although nearly all of them had a wreath against the door, with entryways fringed with holly, ivy and fallen yew boughs.
Looking towards the amphitheatre, Ivy could see the smoke of several fires billowing up into the sky. As they got closer, music and chattering could be heard.
The amphitheatre wasn’t sunken like many in the west of Duilintinn, instead it was more or less level with the ground. A subtle reminder of the age of this village.
Inside was busy, but not packed, yet. In the centre a massive bonfire burned, chasing away the winter cold. A giant stew pot bubbled on the far side, full of vegetables and herbs, while two pigs were being roasted at either end of the amphitheatre, where they no doubt had been turning and roasting all day. Above them in the smoke were the legs of the pigs, being smoked as a sort of payment to the people who had volunteered to cook since before dawn.
There were stalls set up on the ground level, most handing out warmed wine, mead and beer, with tea and diluted alcohol for the youngsters. A few were selling bottles of wine and mead, others last minute crafts as gifts. Finally stalls selling herbed bread, frozen and hardened tree syrups from House Marvin, and chilled or frozen forest fruits.
Musicians and singers had taken residence higher up in the theatre, right up on the hewn rows. Old songs no one knew the meaning off anymore mixed in with more modern songs, while bells, hand drums, lutes and flutes all played together, adding to the cacophony.
Once inside Yarra handed the lantern back to Cyril, and without a word, the group scattered.
Ivy was starving, so got in line at one of the hog roasts. The line was already long, but the folks doing the roasting were moving quickly. Someone was going down the line, collecting payment and handing out slabs of bread for plates so that you didn’t have to faff about when you got to the front of the line.
Otto peered curiously from her shoulder, and slowly, clearly thinking Ivy wouldn’t notice, stretched his neck to grab the bread. His squawk of surprise was muffled when Ivy grabbed his beak.
“No,” was all she said, and he let out an over dejected croak.
“No,” she spoked more firmly, still holding his beak. “You need to behave, not everyone is so forgiving of your behaviour.”
She slowly let go of his beak, when he let out a half hearted hiss at her and settled on her shoulder, sulking.
They made it to the front of the line, where town butcher carved off a chunk of the hog before plopping it on Ivy’s bread plate. She shuffled a little further across for some stewed crab apple to top it, and then walked away from the roast. The smoke was starting to make her eyes sting.
She tore off a bit of hog to give to Otto and held it in front of his beak, wiggling it a little bit to catch his attention. He tilted his head at her before carefully reaching his beak out and snatching it out of her grip.
She ate the pork and crab apple mixture with her fingers, making a bit of a mess, but this was a night when no one cared. Last was the bread, which had soaked up the juices from the meat and still had smears of apple on it.
The result left Ivy full, even as she licked her fingers clean. She’d have to go home to properly wash her hands, and she really couldn’t be bothered.
She checked the money she had left and had a look at the other stalls. She didn’t need gifts; she’d brought everything she needed and her family wouldn’t exchange them until tomorrow.
She paused by the sap sweets with a familiar weight in her chest. Her mother had loved these, and even though they were expensive, had always bought a ton. The plan had been for them to last the year, but they never did.
Ivy ended up buying a couple for old times sake. She popped one in her mouth straight away and intended to give the others to Ed and Yarra.
She bought a cup of mead, spiced and mixed with a potion from House Marvin that made it swirling lilac colour and added a lavender taste into the mix. She then wandered over to the massive bonfire, looking for the boys.
The bonfire was being manned by the local Guard, in case it got of hand. Around it people were selling dried herbs for a low price to throw on the fire, as such it was impossible to place the smell coming from the fire, but it smelt good.
She found Yarra arguing with Ed about buying these herbs.
“You’ve bout five already!” Ed signed, “I want to see what else is here!”
Yarra looked sheepish, having removed his scarf this close to the fire. “I just like the smell.”
“Evening,” Ivy called over.
“Aunt Ivy! Tell Yarra to stop buying herbs!”
Yarra spluttered in protest and Ivy laughed.
“He’s got a point,” she agreed, still rolling the hard sweet around her mouth, “here,” she held out the sweets she’d bought. “Give these a try.”
The boys looked at the amber/golden coloured sweets before popping them in their mouths. In unison their eyes went wide.
“Good?” Ivy knew the answer before both of them bobbed their heads in agreement. Ed eyed her drink too, fascinated by the colour.
“Can I try that?” he asked.
“It might be a strong for you. It’s mead.”
“Please?”
Ivy ended up caving the puppy look the green eyed boy sent her way.
“Fine,” she sighed and held the cup out, not letting go. “Small sip though.”
Ed took his sweet out and held it in a sticky hand before trying a bit of the mead. He seemed to like it, until the alcohol hit and he began to splutter.
“Put your sweet back in your mouth, should help.”
Ed did as Ivy suggested, and relief came over his face. Ivy raised an eyebrow and held her cup out to Yarra.
“I don’t suppose you want to try?”
Yarra shook his head, stepped away and signed “No thanks!”
Ivy just laughed. “More for me then!” she took a swig. “The stall should sell a diluted version though, it’s just that way, purple mead,” she pointed in the rough direction of the stall. The boys looked at each, and headed for it, and Ivy felt a small pang of urgency when she realised that they were going to have a hard time ordering.
Since Ed didn’t talk and Yarra had a hard time talking to strangers, in any capacity.
She spent a minute wrestling with herself before going to check on them.
Ed was too short to see over the counter, and Yarra, as expected, was looking through his fringe, half signing and possibly mumbling. There was a line forming behind them, which only served to stress Yarra out further.
Ivy started to walk over to intervene, but either the stall holder took pity or Yarra made himself understood. Either way, the two of them got their hot diluted mead.
Ivy just smiled to herself and wandered off. Otto was looking around, searching for more food to steal. They got the attention of some children, and Ivy managed to cajole Otto into being stroked by small hands by promising some more pork.
Since she wasn’t hungry, she rounded Ed and Yarra up and got them their share of the hog roast. She told them the deal she’d made with Otto first, and they were fine giving up a little bit of their food.
At this point Otto was falling asleep on her shoulder, so she just wandered around a bit, wondering whether she should head back yet.
The musicians would keep going until the small hours, at some point dancing would start around the massive bonfire. She’d gotten an earful from her grandma for missing that last year. People would hold hands and dance around it, almost mocking winter because, it’s dark and cold and easy to be lonely, so we’re not going to be any of those things!
It was annoying when she was in school. Crushes were rife and everyone made a big deal about who held hands with who. It was exhausting then and not worth the headache now. It was mostly random anyway!
Like Ivy’s thoughts were a cue. All the musicians went silent for long enough to attract attention to the silence. Then they started again in unison.
Everyone around Ivy downed and abandoned their cups before making their way to large bonfire. She sighed, downed hers too, and walked over.
Otto perked up a little bit, enough to balance himself as Ivy stood next to people she hadn’t seen since last year probably. There wasn’t much time to dwell on it as the music swelled, hands were held, and the dancing began.
The heat of the fire was right in her face, blisteringly hot as the ring of people skipped and jumped around it. More rings formed behind them as more joined in, and now Ivy was just focused on not bringing her line down.
There wasn’t much rhyme or reason to it. Organised chaos would be the best description. They’d go one way, and then there’d be a serious of whoops as the ring changed direction, the whooping continuing regardless.
It was silly, disorganised and even potentially dangerous given how close they were to the fire. That was the point.
The rings would slowly switch, so that everyone got a change to be right up against the bonfire. It was a slow process, people swapping places at random. Further back people linked arms instead of holding hands, so more of them stayed warm.
Ivy eventually escaped, sweaty and panting. Otto let out a small croak and nestled down her shoulder again as she looked for another mug of alcohol.
Mead again, it was her drink of choice. This time it was an almost glowing amber colour, and whatever potion was in it mingled with the herbs and spices to make her feel warm everywhere. Although she was warned if she drank it too fast her fingers would start glowing.
That sounded like a challenge.
She found out much, much later that evening, or, really early the next morning, that glowing fingers were a terrible idea when you’re trying to sleep.
---
(So, bit to go over. First, this is December 1613, so Yarra and Ed’s first Winter Celebration with with the Paris’s.
Second, so much of this is based on information from @shamrockace about Pagan and Celtic traditions this time of year. I haven’t got everything, I mostly picked and choosed what I wanted for this and I imagine everywhere in Duilintinn does it slightly differently anyway.
The dancing was off the top of my head. A large pig can feed a few hundred people and there will probably be leftovers. The stew would go in a bread bowl because those things are cool.
The sap sweets and the ‘spiked’ mead would be expensive, but Ivy’s income mostly goes on Watch and Guild membership fees, and the rare times she has to use an inn. Plus she’d have been saving up for today.
I think that’s it, have a good day everyone!)
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thewatchau · 2 years
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Gathering the Hunt Part 8
This jumps back in late June, so here's the things that happened in the meantime!
Druffdroms Raids Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
The June 1614 update (with some bits, like Loburn's name, being a little out of date, but the events still occured)
This is a bit of a jumble and could have been split into two, but I didn't. Lots of little things that tie into things, plus the precourser to a raid!
Bard's Note: Thank you to @theshapeshifter100 as always! Also, FYI the second half of this chapter starts leaning back into the horror-y elements of the baddies, nothing too specific though.
---
It took until after her Name Day until she got a message heading for House Marvin. The Hold, so still a couple of days from Monacoil. It was better than nothing.
She still had to ride for about six days to get the Hold from Fort Stiofán, making it eight and a half days before she got to Monacoil from Begdor.
It was weird city, with two main styles of architecture. The old and important buildings were of the old style. Grey stone and roughly shaped like stacked cylinders. One large circle at the bottom, then another slightly smaller one on top, then another and so and so forth. Stone stairs spiralled around the sides of these buildings, making everyone glad that it didn’t rain often in House Marvin.
The rest of the buildings were wood and stone and with a mish-mash of styles. Nothing was really the same except that it all fit together like a puzzle, with little wasted space.
Ivy came to a stop outside her main destination. The Mages Guild library.
It was an extension of the Mages’ Guild and was the main magical library in the Kingdom, with the next largest in Cordoire. It was of the old architecture style, with the top rumoured to be an observatory. Surrounding the main building were five towers, each housing a particular magical discipline; Enchantments, Wards, Combat Magic, Soul Magic, and Life Magic. They were also of the old style, so were wider at the base and narrow at the top.
As a general rule, the main building was open to anyone who had their magic awakened, with special permission granted to researchers, friends of the guild, and people who weren’t certain and wanted to read more into magic before activating theirs. To get into the towers, however, you had to be a Journeyman Mage or higher, or have the permission of a Journeyman or higher.
Ivy was around the Apprentice rank still, so she could get into the main building with no difficulty. The towers, that would be harder.
She tried the main building first. The inside was the same stone as the outside, with lamps in alcoves to give a warm, slightly underwater, feeling. The shelves were curved to fit the round structure, as were the ladders that led to the highest tomes.
Various Mages were sat at tables, on top of the shelves (There was a gap between the top of the shelves and the ceiling, presumably for this reason), in natural dips and alcoves in the rock and on top of lips of the rock where there was a new ring of stone in the wall. Some of the alcoves they were in were for the purpose of sitting in, but not all of them.
Ivy browsed the Enchantments section and found the basics of casting one, but not the exact enchantment she was looking for. It took all day for her to admit it, but that particular enchantment must be in the tower.
Which she needed permission to get into.
This was not going to be fun.
Knowing the Irnas tended to be up at all hours of the day, Ivy had no issue going to their house and knocking for them. It was a reasonable time though, mid-afternoon, so they should be up anyway.
Their house was a wooden one, and exactly how she remembered. Tall and skinny and crushed between two larger buildings with some scorch marks. The roof was covered in metal poles to catch lightning and about five different weathervanes.
She rapped on their door loudly and waited. Irnas’s cat Nimbus peered out of an open window, meowed loudly, and went back in. Then there was a series of thuds and what might have been thunder before the door burst open.
Irnas looked about as dishevelled as usual, and they sighed when they saw it was Ivy.
“Paris? What are you doing here?”
“I need permission to get into the Enchantment tower.”
Irnas mouthed the words back for a second before groaning. “You’re not still doing this, are you?”
“Yes,” Ivy was irritated. “I’ve been at it for over two months now and the raids have really been helping. My main magic is under control enough for me to learn something new. Like an enchantment to dispel magic. For instance.”
Irnas rubbed their eyes. “Show me.”
“Sorry?”
“Right now. Show me how much control you have.”
Ivy took a deep breath, gripped her knife hilt, and held her focus in the front of her mind.
Defend people from danger
The storm of anger and fear built, steel sank into her skin and she whipped out her knife, slashing it in front of her. Her knife hit nothing, but the blast from it cut a neat score into the wooden wall of the house.
Irnas inspected it. “Did you intend to cause that level of damage?”
“More or less. Depends on what I’m facing, really. Plus your house is hardly a danger to anyone.”
Irnas groaned again when they realised what Ivy meant.
“You haven’t changed your focus, have you?”
“No. Do I need to?”
Irnas fumbled for words for a minute, mouth making shapes and emitting strangled noises as they tried to work out what they wanted to say.
“You know what? Fine. I’ve told you before how dangerous it is to be primarily a combat mage with a focus like that. You didn’t listen then, and I doubt you’ll listen now! Can you turn it off a least?”
Ivy exhaled long and slow, sheathing her knife and letting go of the hilt. The steel faded from her skin.
“You can,” Irnas noted. “You still need a focal item, but so do some more advanced Mages.”
“I’d like to wean myself off it. I could do it before without holding on to. Sometimes all this training feels like a step back.”
“It feels that way because you’re probably having re-learn how to do it, so that it isn’t instinctual,” Irnas reasoned. “although, if it’s no longer purely instinctual in a fight… can you turn it off in the middle of a fight?”
“I haven’t tried.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. Probably not a bad thing as long as you can turn it off once the fight’s over, or in a false start…”
“I’m working on it, but it’s under control now at least.”
Irnas nodded, thinking. “Wait here.”
They went back into their house and sounded like they were flinging books around trying to find something. They came back ten minutes later with a signed piece of paper.
“Here,” they gave it to Ivy, who looked at it, and frowned.
“This is for access into the Ward tower.”
“Correct.”
“I need the Enchantment tower.”
“All wards are enchantments, but not all enchantments are wards,” Irnas tapped the paper. “You can learn the basics of shield magic in the main building and build on them in the Ward tower, which will give you the basis for a magic-dispelling or disrupting enchantment. Learn the shield first, come back to me, then I’ll give you permission.”
“And if I get permission from someone else?”
Irnas shrugged. “You can try, but they don’t know you, or why you’re doing this. They’ll take one look at your magic skill and if they have any sense, refuse.”
“So, you don’t have any sense?”
“This is against my better judgement. Now scat before I change my mind,” they made shooing motions with their hands and Ivy backed off, a grin formed on her face. She turned on her heel and called over her should as she walked away.
“Thanks Irnas!”
Grumbling was what could be heard from the Mage before they slammed the door shut.
 ---
The Ward tower had mixed floors. It went in twos, library, practice room, library, practice room, right up until to the top, which was a general empty room for, whatever. The shelves and reading methods followed the same rules as the main hall, and the higher you went, the more advanced the technique.
Ivy had money built up from working, and so could spend a fortnight here if she scrimped. She started with books from the main hall, then moved onto the bottom floor of the tower, with the more complex shield spells.
It took a few hours for her to wrap around exactly how she was supposed to pull this off, and it took another few days for her to even manifest it.
It was small. Smaller than her physical shield, and weak. The red energy flickered as she struggled to hold it. It was a different shade of red to Author’s magic, lighter. But it was still unnerving and didn’t help her concentration.
She’d honestly been meaning to learn shield magic for years, but never had the time. She was surprised by how hard it was, how much energy it took to form. Ideally you could just walk away and leave it to work, but it took time to get to that point.
Longer than two weeks, it turned out.
---
She had to go to the Roosts to get new messages, and so before she left, she took as many notes as she could before she had to leave.
She had to go around Loch Glas because of the summer fog. It made it dangerous to cross over the water, so she took the long way around. It was still dangerous to go around the edge, bog and fog are a bad combination.
So, she cut through the forest.
The first day of doing that was fine, if a little weird. It felt like the whole Forest was holding it’s breath. What for she had no idea.
She spent the night camping in the forest, and none of them slept well. Magic practice didn’t go well either. Something was going to happen. They could feel it.
The next day Ivy could feel how tense Firefly was underneath her, and she wasn’t much better. The horse would stop and stare at nothing, or sometimes start to panic for no discernible reason.
She hadn’t been this highly strung since before the Guard, and Ivy doubted she was helping. Their moods were rubbing off on each other. Even Otto was nervous, sticking close.
Despite that, nothing did happen until later that day.
Around mid afternoon Otto began to panic about something.
He took of suddenly and flew around, croaking angrily. He would dive bomb the undergrowth before coming back like nothing had happened. All this extra noise made Firefly more uneasy, which rubbed off on Ivy, or was it the other way around?
There was an odd, metallic tang to the air which Ivy was just noticing. It was, familiar, and not in a good way. If she had hackles they’d be up.
Then Ivy saw it.
An entire lower branch of a tree winked out of existence for five seconds before reappearing again.
“What. The. Fuck?”
Otto full on screamed at the bushes and Firefly nickered, hooves shifted on the hardened earth. Ivy patted her horse’s neck as she peered into the bushes. Movement caught her eye in there, and suddenly she could see.
A horde of monsters, corpses and puppets were trudging alongside the road, pushing through thorns, nettle and brambles with no concern to themselves. There must have been hundreds of them, and it was a damn miracle Ivy hadn’t heard them earlier. Now that she had spotted them, she could hear them, shuffling through leaves and breaking dry twigs.
Ivy’s shock transferred to Firefly and she spooked, rearing up and whinnying loudly. Ivy almost fell off, but knew Firefly well enough to know when to hold on.
The cry was enough to catch the attention of the monsters, since they never seemed to be puppets. Ivy did not hang around to find out what was going to happen. She was a good fighter, but not a one-man fucking army!
As soon as Firefly’s hooves touched the ground Ivy kicked her into a gallop. She could hear roars behind her, and metal sank into her skin.
No. Not now
She had to trust Firefly to keep going while she relaxed enough to turn off her magic, but fear was running too high. She couldn’t turn it off!
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
Ivy wanted to gallop through the night, the Roosts weren’t that far, but once she realised she couldn’t hear the monsters anymore, logic kicked in. It was too risky for Firefly. She could easily break a leg in the dark, and then where would they be?
She didn’t make a campfire, not wanting to draw attention to them. She sat facing the way they had come all night, sword and shield at the ready. She did manage to turn off her magic, confident it would activate when she needed it to.
Her breathing seemed to block out everything, making her worry that she would miss an attack. She would then jump at every night time rustle. Once she thought she saw something green and jumped up, metal sinking into her skin.
Time stood still, and nothing happened.
She dropped off to sleep just before dawn, only to wake up again when her shield fell to ground with a clang.
She startled awake, standing up and pointing her sword in all directions. The dawn chorus was loud enough to block any other sound! Anything could be-!
Something nudged her in the back and she swung her sword and body to face it. Firefly screamed and reared as the sword nearly cut her.
Ivy realised what had happened and was quick to drop the sword and sooth her horse.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry girl. Shhh, shhh, I’m sorry.”
It took Firefly some time to calm down while Otto kept watch. Everyone was tired from the sprint last night and not sleeping properly. That probably didn’t help with nerves.
After a quick breakfast Ivy mounted up and the three took off again. She didn’t want to push Firefly too much this morning, and knew that at a walk she would get to the Roosts before midday, easily. She still got Firefly to canter the rest of the way.
 ---
That night at the Roosts she managed to get some proper practice in, getting Otto to throw sticks and rocks at her shield and having it hold. Mostly.
She got sent off again the next morning for the Hold, and she would be damned before she cut through the forest on this one!
She continued to practice on the road, her shields getting stronger and better. At one point, she got Firefly to kick it.
Her hooves broke straight through, only slowing a little bit. Thankfully Ivy wasn’t close enough to get hit, not that it helped Firefly.
The poor horse panicked and snuffled Ivy’s shoulder for several minutes before Ivy could calm her.
“Easy girl, it’s okay. No harm done.”
Firefly calmed down, but would gently headbutt or snuffle Ivy’s shoulder every now and again to apologise.
It did not hold the first time, nearly causing Firefly to hit her.
Ivy couldn’t persuade her to try again for another few days, and the shield held this time. Ivy made sure to give her plenty of pats and fuss to reward her.
---
Okay, if my notes are right, which they should be (or at least close). Arrive in Monacoil 23rd June, leave 7th July, gets to the Roosts for 9th. The raid that seemed to start was this one!
I think I mentioned in the May raids that I had a thing for the July one, boom, that was it!
Bard's Note: Dates are correct! Also, I love the little references to things that I've said over and over again in these stories. Like Irnas saying "All wards are enchantments, but not all enchantments are wards.” It makes it feel like these things are textbook definitions, things everyone learns, and idk I love that???
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thewatchau · 3 years
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Settlements in House Schneeplestein: Fadáite Sólas
Most of the lore in the upcoming series will be edited compilations of dozens of posts from the last two years. While there are some minor new details sprinkled throughout, I’ve attempted to post significant new information in a “Watch AU Fun Fact” post so you don’t have to read all of these HUGE posts to find them.
Other Posts in this Series:
Minor Settlements of House Schneeplestein: Cnocrann • Loburn • Begdor • Fadáite Sólas • Iolla Sanitariums •  Airceann Bridge (Town) • Roabeál
Posts Related to this Series:
Regional Capital: Fionport • Watch Locations: Domhainn Outlook Outpost, Iolla Beacon Outpost
Related Series: House Schneeplestein Masterlist
In This Post
Summary
Name Origin
History and Purpose
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Summary
Fadáite Sólas is a town located in the Iolla Cliffs, of House Schneeplestein, Duilintinn, perched at the point where the sloping foothills of the Southern Mountains finally begin to level out into the grassy plateau immediately west of the cliffs.
This town has one major feature: the secondary hub of the Lifeworker Institute, which connects the main hub in Fionport with the dozens of sanitariums that lie to the east of Fadáite Sólas.  
Name Origin
Fadáite Sólas is the first place you’ll see when traveling to the Iolla Sanitariums, either as a patient or to visit loved ones residing within. It’s a sight that evokes complex, bittersweet emotions, reminding you of the circumstances that lead you here, the blessing that you and/or your loved ones are able to receive such care, and, for visitors, the joy that you will soon see those loved ones again. Upon leaving, it’s a sad reminder that those loved ones can’t return home with you, not knowing when you’ll be able to visit again. 
Hence, the name evokes both the heavy reminder of that lost time and how long the residents stay in the sanitariums, as well as the positive reasons why they would choose to stay there in the first place. “Fada” means “a long time,” “aite” simply means “place,” and “solas” means “comfort, consolation, solace, contentment, delight, and joy.” 
History and Purpose
Fadáite Sólas is a relatively new location, hence the longer name, not yet shortened by time and convenience. It was established specifically to serve as a point of contact between the sanitariums and the Lifeworker Institute. However, it quickly evolved into a launching point for medical professionals, arriving residents, and visitors traveling to the sanitariums. 
Today, the town functions as a massive reception desk for the rest of the Iolla Sanitariums. The guild hub within the town holds every record ever produced by the sanitariums, though they rarely share any of that information. 
Additionally, since the locations of the sanitariums are absent from most official maps of Duilintinn, anyone wishing to visit a resident of the sanitariums needs to stop at Fadáite Sólas first. After explaining who they want to visit, a guide from the secondary Lifeworker Institute guild hub in the town will escort them to the corresponding location (assuming the sanitarium in question is not under any form of quarantine). Obviously, some people will probably start to remember the route after a few visits, but they still won’t be let into any of the sanitariums without a guide from Fadáite Sólas’s Lifeworker Institute hub to vouch for them.
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