#particularly October Horse

[queenlucythevaliant]

The assassination of Julius Caesar in fiction

The October Horse by Colleen McCullough // The Ides of March by Thornton Wilder //Cleopatra (1963) dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz // A Piller of Iron by Taylor Caldwell // The October Horse, McCullough // Caesar (1937) dir. Orson Welles // Cleopatra's Daughter by Michelle Moran // Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare // The October Horse, McCullough

#my humble contribution #so i actually had a pretty intense Julius Caesar fixation a number of years ago #i came downstairs after a migraine and found my dad watching Cleopatra (1963) #in which I learned that Caesar had epilepsy #the kind of migraine that I get is closely related to epilepsy #so i just. instantly identified super hard?? with this long-dead roman dictator???? #i binge read about him for a good six months. fiction and nonfiction. my friends were very confused #so yeah #i mentioned the ides of march in an RUF large group and discovered that none of my peers knew what the heck i was talking about #so when I joined this site and discovered how enthusiastically everyone observes i was thrilled #and continue to be thrilled #the way that this site caters to my weird niche interests is truly remarkable #anyway. happy ides of march to all who observe #and happy death day to my problematic historical chronic illness bro 😂 #intertextuality #pontifications and creations #would highly recommend most of the texts referenced here btw #particularly October Horse

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 16th October, 1976 - Queen Story!

#Queen trot down to Kempton Park to promote 'A Day At The Races'album in style - they've sponsored one of the races. Not that they need to plug the album much, because it has already sold half a million in advance

orders. At the races, a particularly touching pat on the back arrives in the form of a telegram from Groucho Marx (Hugh Z Hackenbush), congratulating them on the release of 'A Day At The Races' (and thanking the band for using the Marx Brothers' film titles!), in return, Queen send him a 'Queen II' tour jacket, which arrives just before his death.

(➡️ This description from brianmay.com website)

📸 Photo: Queen, Mary Austin (and Chrissie Mullen, Brian May's wife, behind Mary)

October 16, 1976, Surrey, London, UK - Queen Story!

Queen at the Kempton Park Racecourse at Sunbury-on-Thames for the 'A Day At The Races' album press launch

👉 The event features a series of horse races and the winner of the main race, an obstacle course, receives £ 3,000 donated by EMI and Queen manager John Reid. Freddie, John, Roger and Brian also bet on a horse at one of the races and all four win

👉 Kempton Park Racecourse is a horse racing track together with a licensed entertainment

▶️Photo n.3: behind Freddie, Peter Brown assistant at the time in 1975-1979 -

📸 Photographer Watal Asanuma/Shinko Music

#freddie mercury #queen band #london #zanzibar #legend #queen #brian may #john deacon #freddiebulsara #roger taylor #a day at the races #a day at the races album #1976 #kempton park racecourse #john reid #freddie mercury and mary austin #mary austin

[odessa-castle]

you know i want to hear about 'tonight on jerry springer: my son wants to marry a vampire spawn!'

I got a lot of asks about this one! Which, in retrospect, shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise.

tonight on jerry springer: my son wants to marry a vampire spawn! is, as more than one person guessed, about Astarion and Ulder throwing down, primarily over Ulder’s treatment of Wyll. It starts as a meet-the-parents dinner and, uh, devolves from there. And then Wyll is forced to actually talk about his feelings! The idea sprung from my dissatisfaction at how Ulder and Wyll’s reconciliation plays out in the game proper, followed by me getting into wyllstarion and being like “you know, Astarion would have some fucking Opinions about how Ulder treated Wyll.” When I started it back in like…oh god, October or November of last year, there were only a handful of wyllstarion fics out there, and none of them had really tackled this yet.

I may or may not finish it! I kind of wrote a version of this into NLTS already, and spoiler-not-spoiler, Astarion’s going to have even more words for Ulder when he enters the picture again.

Here’s an excerpt of what I’ve got so far:

Astarion’s posture is flawless, shoulders back, head high, but his hands don’t match the rest of the picture. He plays with the lace of his cuffs, rolling their hems between his fingers and palms. A small gesture, easily ignored, but Wyll knows by now to watch for such things. (And he cherishes them – the slight crease at the corner of Astarion’s mouth when, against his better judgment, something charms him; the release of his shoulders when he’s well and truly sated; the deft curiosity of his hands when he encounters a particularly challenging lock.)

Not that Wyll is fully at ease himself. The foyer is arranged just as it was seven years ago, when he last graced the halls of his father’s house, but surely the chandelier was not so bright before. He remembers the mingled scents of incense and horse musk, but now he nearly tastes the metal tang of blood beneath both. Part of him still expects his sword master to round the corner any minute now, barking at him to practice his forms one more time.

Astarion glances at the portrait to his right and does a double-take. “Wyll,” he says, “is that your father? With – hair?”

“My grandfather,” Wyll says, “but I can’t vouch for the likeness. I never met the man. This was painted after he died, based on Father’s descriptions. I always wondered how much the painter just substituted Father’s own features, though.”

“Well, the duke either described his haircut badly, or described a very bad haircut.”

#the ask and the answer #ushauz #wyllstarion

[scotianostra]

November 13th 1715 saw the Battle of Sheriffmuir, the only major battle in what became known as the '15 Jacobite uprising.

First, a little bit of background just to set the scene. In 1714, George I succeeded Queen Anne to the throne as the first ruler of the Hanoverian line. Tensions were already high in some areas following the 1707 Union which was not fully supported across the country. Following his ascension George I, a German from Hanover who could not speak English, managed to alienate more people including a range of former supporters of Anne and now there were more people willing to try to return a Stuart to the throne.

The Earl of Mar had initially been an enthusiastic supporter of George I, but after being publicly snubbed by the new king, Mar decided to back a different horse, and on 1 September 1715 raised a standard for King James VIII at Braemar. Mar began to raise forces to march south to join with English Jacobites, in an attempt to return a Stuart to the throne. To counter the uprising the government dispatched a combination of Scottish and English regiments under the command of the Duke of Argyll. During October there were various manoeuvres between the two armies. Then on the 10th November the Jacobite army marched south from Perth, reaching Kinbuick, just north east of Dunblane on the 12th November. The Duke of Argyll had marched north and was already at Dunblane, intending to intercept the Jacobite force.

If you follow my posts you know I like to draw on first hand accounts of history, so here is a full transcript from a Jacobite viewpoint. Some of the Scots terms for words are translated in the brackets.

Sunday 13th. The Earl of Mar gave orders for the whole army to form on the muir [moor], to the left of the road that leads to Dunblane, fronting to Dunblane. The general persons were ordered to their posts, the Stirling squadron [unit] with the king’s standard [royal flag] and two squadrons of the Marquis of Huntly formed the right of the first line of horses. All the clans formed the first line of foot [infantry soldiers who fought in face-to-face combat]. The Perth Shyre [Perthshire] and Fife Shyre [Fifeshire] formed the left of the first line of horses. The Earl of Marischal’s [George Keith, 10th Earl Marischal c1692-1778] squadron on the right of the second line, three battalions of the Marquis of Senforth’s foot, two battalions of my Lord Huntly’s, the Earl of Panmure’s, the Marquis of Tullibardine’s. The battalions of Drummond commanded by the Viscount of Strathallan and Logiealmond, the battalion of Strowan and the Sturgis squadron of horse formed the second lines. When the army was forming, we discovered some small number of the enemy on the height of the west end of the Sheriff muir which looks into Dunblane from which place they had a full view of our army. The Earl of Mar called a council of war consisting of all the noblemen, general officers and lairds [lords] of the clans, which was held on the front of the horses on the left. Where it was voted to fight the enemy nemine contradicente [without contradiction; of one mind]. Upon which the Earl of Mar ordered the Earl of Marischal Major General of the horses with his own squadron and Sir Donald MacDonald’s battalion, to march up to the height where we saw the enemy and dislodge them and send an account of the enemy’s motion [movement] and disposition [state]. No sooner the Earl Marischal begun his march but the enemy disappeared and the Earl of Mar ordered the army to march up after them, by the other general’s orders, the lines marched off the right, divided in the centre, and marched up the hill in lines, after marching about a quarter of a mile, the Earl of Marischal sent back an account that he discovered the enemy forming their line very near him, to the south of top of the hill, upon which the army,

particularly the horse, was ordered to march up very quickly and form to the enemy; but by the breaking of their lines in marching off, they fell in some confusion in the forming and some of the second line of foot jumbled into the first, on or near the left and some of the horse formed near the centre which seems to have been the occasion that the enemy’s few squadrons on the right were not routed [defeated & dismissed] as the rest.

The Earl of Mar placed himself at the head of the clans, and finding the enemy only forming their lines thought fit to attack them in that posture[ position], sent Colonel William Clephon, adjutant- general to the Marquis of Drummond, lieutenant-general of the horse on the right and to lieutenant-general Gordon on the right of the line of foot and major David Erskine, one of his aide-de-camp [military officer serving as personal assistant], to the left with orders to march up and attack immediately: and upon their return, pulling off his hat, waved it with a ‘huzzah’ and advanced to the front of the enemy’s formed battalions. Upon which all the line to the right, being of the clans led by Sir Donald McDonald’s brother, Glengarry, captain of clan Ranald. Sir John McLean, Glencoe, Campbell of Glenlyon, Colonel of Broadalbin’s, and brigadier Ogilvy of Boyne with Colonel Gordon of Glenbuckett at the head of one of Huntly’s battalions made a most furious attack, so that in seven or eight minutes we could neither perceive the form of a squadron or battalion of the enemy before us. We drove the main body and left of the enemy in this manner for about half a mile, killing and taking prisoners, all that we could undertake. The Earl of Mar endeavoured to stop our foot and put them in some order to follow the enemy which we saw making off in some small bodies [small groups] from a little hill below towards Dunblane where the Earl of Mar resolved to follow them to complete the victory when an account was brought him that our left and most of our second line had given way and the enemy was pursuing them down the back of the hill and had taken our artillery. Immediately, the Earl of Mar gave orders for the horse to wheel and put the foot in order as fast as could be, marches back with them: when he was again near the top of the hill two squadrons of the enemy’s grey dragoons [British Army] were perceived marching towards us: when they came near the top of the hill and saw us advancing in order to attack them, they made faster down the hill then they came up and joined at the foot of the hill to a small squadron or two of the black dragoons and a small battalion of foot which we judge had marched about

the west of the hill, joined them. At first they again seemed to form on the low ground and advanced towards us: but when they saw us marching down the hill upon them they fled off very speedily to Dunblane. The Earl of Mar remained possessed of the field of battle and our own artillery and stood upon the ground till after sunset and then considering that the army had no covering nor victuals [food] all the night before and none to be had nearer than Braco, Ardoch, and adjacents, where his lordship expected the left to rally and the battalions of Lord George Murray, inner right, MacPherson and MacGregor to join, resolved to draw off the artillery and march the army to that place where were some provisions. There were two carriages of the guns broke, which we left on the road: but those battalions did not join till next day afternoon, before which the enemy’s army was returned to Stirling.

We took the Earl of Forfar who was dangerously wounded. Colonels Laurence [possibly Laurence Oliphant of Gask] and ten or twelve captains and subalterns [officer below rank of captain] and about two hundred sergeants and private men and the Lord of Glenkindie, one of the volunteers, four pairs of colours [battalion flags], several drummers and about fourteen or fifteen hundred foot under arms. We compute [calculate] that there lay killed upon the field of battle about seven or eight hundred of the enemy. And thus we cannot make an exact account of their loss yet this is certain, that those lay dead upon the field above is of the enemy none of ours besides the number of the wounded which must be very great.

The prisoners taken by us were civilly [respectfully] used and none of them stripped, some allowed to return to Stirling upon their parole*. And the officers have the liberty of the town of Perth. The few prisoners taken by the enemy are useless now most of them stripped and found wounded after taken. The Earl of Panmure being one of the prisoners wounded after taken, they having refused his parole, was left in a village, and by the hasty retreat of the enemy, upon the approach of our army, was rescued by his brother and his servants and carried off.

*Parole

This was the word of honour of a prisoner of war who is granted freedom only after promising not to engage in further fighting until formally exchanged by the other side.

Again you might know I like nothing more than a wee poem, so to some up what happened at Sheriffmuir....

'Some say that we wan and some say that they wan

And some say that nane won at a', man.

But one thing I'm sure that at Sheriffmuir

A battle was there which I saw man.

And we ran and they ran, and they ran and we ran

And we ran and they ran awa' man.'

Basically both sides claimed victory, the truth is no one won on the day, but Mar never pressed hi army any further and the '15 was, for all intents, over. The pic shows the transcript of the Jacobite account.

#scotland #scottish #history #15 uprising #Jacobites #Battle

[servants-hall]

It's official! ACGAS 4x01 is "airing at 9pm on Thursday 5th October on Channel 5 and My 5."

All Creatures Great and Small announces season 4 release date

The Channel 5 drama's fourth season will see James and Helen thinking about starting a family. Get ready to head back up to the Yorkshire Dales, as All Creatures Great and Small is returning for its fourth season on Channel 5. It has now been confirmed that we are just around the corner from the season 4 release date, with the first episode airing at 9pm on Thursday 5th October on Channel 5 and My 5. The new season of the hit historical drama, based on the novels by Alf Wight writing under the pen name of James Herriot, will start off in Spring 1940, and will see James and Helen thinking about starting a family - however, they currently don't know whether or not James will be called up to serve in the RAF. Meanwhile, Tristan’s absence is felt by all, but particularly by Siegfried, who attempts to hold the growing household together. However, the arrival of trainee veterinary student Richard Carmody causes complications.

Richard will be played by James Anthony-Rose (Slow Horses), while another new cast member for this season is Neve McIntosh (Doctor Who), who plays Miss Harbottle. Her character has been described as a "highly efficient bookkeeper" that Siegfried and James bring in as one of the extra pairs of hands to help around the practice. Returning cast members include Nicholas Ralph as James Herriot, Rachel Shenton as Helen Herriot, Samuel West as Siegfried Farnon, Anna Madeley as Mrs Hall and Patricia Hodge as Mrs Pumphrey. Other new guest stars that have been announced for season 4 include Tony Pitts, Imogen Clawson, Paul Copley, Cleo Sylvestre, James Bolam, Will Thorp and Sam Retford.

#all creatures great and small #acgas 2020 #acgas spoilers #acgas s4 #james herriot #helen herriot

[zacharybosch]

Tasseomancy inspo part 2: Clothes and stuff

Part two of my post detailing the inspiration behind my Ed/Stede sugar daddy AU fic Tasseomancy. Part one (covering the setting) is here.

This part covers all the clothes, accessories, tea, and other stuff that Ed and Stede wear/buy/consume in the fic. Like Stede, I am unfortunately a bit of a clothes horse, so gird your loins for some over-enthusiastic gushing about fabrics.

☕

Teas

Ed and Stede enjoy a few different tea blends in this fic, and it’s where the title comes from - tasseomancy (aka tasseography, tasseology) is the practice of reading fortunes in tea leaves.

Blue Lady is the first tea they share together. I picked it because 1. it’s really yummy, and 2. it’s a little bit floral and a little bit citrus-y and I think that suits Ed and Stede nicely :) I first started drinking this tea about a year ago and it’s so fucking delicious. My favourite variety comes from HR Higgins, but it’s pretty pricey so I try to drink it sparingly. This tea is also incredible as a cold brew - the flavour is more delicate, but it also makes it a lot easier to taste all the subtle little notes in there.

The three teas that Ed brings to Stede during his formal seduction are all from Bird & Blend. Tea Wells is an interesting one, sometimes if I drink it too quickly it makes me feel a little bit drunk?? which is very weird, but I have also had this experience with other green teas in the past. If you drink it at a normal pace though it’s a nice little pick-me-up, and the flowers and fruit pieces cancel out any bitterness that can sometimes develop in green teas.

Also it is very pretty, look at it:

Mint Choc Rooibos is the next tea that Ed brings, at lunch time. I’m actually not particularly keen on this one, but my boyfriend is obsessed with it and it’s the blend that managed to convert him into a tea-drinker. It’s sweet and creamy and even has cocoa shells in it, although when I had a little sippy I couldn’t really taste any chocolate coming through.

Finally, Ed brings a cup of Lady Lavender for Stede at the end of his work day. This is just a traditional Earl Grey blend with lavender added in. I drank a lot of this while writing the fic :)

Recipes

Ed makes boil up for his and Stede’s date night. The recipe I referenced is by Maori chef Cameron Petley, from his book ‘Hunter from the Heartland’. Boil up is a traditional Maori dish, basically a broth or soup with dumplings, and I haven’t made it myself but it sounds yummy as fuck. I love stewy soupy things, and I especially love dumplings. 

It’s around the middle of October when Ed cooks this for Stede, so it’s perfect for a chilly night. It also represents home, comfort, and love for Ed, so of course he wants to give those things to Stede as well :)

Ed also makes some Sidecar mocktails. When I saw that the recipe called for both tea and marmalade, I couldn’t not include it in the fic. I haven’t tried making this either - I’m not 100% sure if I’d like it tbh, since the one time I tried lapsang souchong tea I just found it way too smoky for my tastes.

Clothes and thingies~

I’m going to do the rest of these by chapter, since there’s quite a lot :’)

Chapter 3 - the trip to the department store

Stede is, of course, wearing this AU’s version of the pink bird robe. I picked a camp collar (or cuban collar) shirt as it’s a bit more casual, and because Stede wears suits all the time it can be very easy to fall into the trap of looking like he’s always on his way to a formal event or something. 

I knew I wanted the shirt to be silk, but since it’s already quite loud with the bright pink and all the birds and flowers, I didn’t want it to also be shiny in the way that a silk satin or charmeuse are. So I picked a sandwashed silk instead - it has all the gorgeous drape and delicate fluidity of a charmeuse, but its sheen is much more subtle.

And then I decided his suit should be a kind of bronzey-brown, since in the episode where we first see Stede in the robe, the suit he (briefly) wears after taking the robe off is kinda bronze.

Ed wears a pair of Dickie’s overalls for the shopping trip, similar to the pic below but a bit more shapely and sexy since this is my fantasy world and I can do whatever I want. 

I specifically wanted Ed to wear and look good in something that he already owned in order to try and avoid Pretty Woman-ing him, implying that he doesn’t look good until his clothes are completely swapped out for a load of expensive designer stuff. I also wanted to show that his natural personal style is already solid, and Stede isn’t there to change it, just to help him nurture and develop it.

Then of course we also have the Yves Saint Laurent sunglasses, which Ed very quickly decided belonged to him forever. If you want to buy these, they will set you back a cool £335!

Ed buys several things for himself from the department store, but the only things I properly envisioned were the cashmere-silk blend crop t-shirt, and the medusa belt.

The t-shirt is just this AU’s version of his sexy pirate crop top, obviously, but the belt is a Versace belt. The medusa is a recurring symbol in a lot of Versace’s stuff and they’ve made tonnes of belts over the years, mostly with a less-detailed cast of their medusa symbol, but I found this more detailed one on an auction site which I thought was very cool. And snakes, because of course.

The silk scarves that Ed bought for Stede (and which Stede then wears constantly forever because he and Ed are such good buddies 😇) aren’t based on any scarves in particular, but I was thinking about Liberty, their lovely illustrative silk scarf designs, and also their extensive archive of heritage fabric patterns for their haberdashery.

Chapter 7 - the trip to the Old Quarter

The perfume that Ed buys for Stede from the fancy shampoo shop is Decadence & Debauchery, made by the perfume house For Strange Women. Please believe me when I tell you that this. Perfume. Smells. So. Fucking. Good. I got a bottle of it a few years ago and I just. Hhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s very deep and sexy and a bit masc and I just. Get feelings when I wear it. So I had to include it in the fic, because Reasons 🥴

For Ed’s purple suit, I was thinking about that peachy-coloured suit that Taika wore, and more specifically I was thinking about the cute little crossover element. The peach suit looks like it’s made of a cotton-linen blend or something else fairly structured, but for the purple suit I picked a light wool crepe so it would be softer and more fluid and drape really nicely. I ditched the three-piece and kept it to just trousers and a jacket, and chose a shawl collar instead of the classic notched lapel to keep up the soft vibes.

I KNOW I don’t need to put a pic here of Taika in the peach suit because we are all well aware what it looks like...... but I’m going to anyway because he is very sexy and I enjoy looking at him.

And here’s some purple wool crepe fabric, see how the folds here are soft and rounded, while in the pic above the folds are much sharper? Fabric 👌

Chapter 8 - date night at Ed’s house

The boys are both wearing Bottega Veneta for their date.

Stede is in this gorgeous light wool pistachio green suit that I am very much in love with. The colour, the lines, the cute breast pocket flap, I am honestly just enchanted and I think Stede would look lovely in it. I thought it would look nice with a lilac t-shirt just because I’ve been really digging pale green and lilac together lately and I reckon it’d look great with Stede’s colouring, and also because if I put Stede in a shirt-shirt then he’s going to look too formal and this is a cosy and relaxed date night :)

If you want to buy it, the jacket alone costs almost £2000!!! Can you believe that Stede jerked off in this??!

For Ed’s look, I wanted something that was a bit cosy, a bit comfy, a bit cheeky and sexy - he’s at home and having fun and feeling himself, and also planning on absolutely boning down with Stede. I actually couldn’t find a product listing for this sweater on the Bottega Veneta website, it’s just worn by this model in a product listing for some (rather questionable) leather shorts. I didn’t have anything specific in mind for his jeans - they’re probably just a pair he’s had forever and that are perfectly moulded to hug all his good bits.

Chapter 9 - egg-smashing breakfast

I didn’t have a specific brand in mind for the jewellery that Stede buys with Ed’s credit card, but I was thinking along the lines of Alighieri, Ottoman Hands, and Schiaparelli - they all make beautiful, interesting stuff with that molten gold texture. To be honest, Schiaparelli is probably a little bit too out there for Stede, but I can totally see Ed wearing some of their huge weird earrings.

#my fic

[rhetoricandlogic]

Playing God By K.J. Parker

Issue #366, Fourteenth Anniversary Double-Issue, October 6, 2022

He who trusts the wind trusts in Satan’s compassion

—Richard Wagner, The Flying Dutchman

“Hello there,” said the Goddess, gazing at me hungrily. “Have you brought me something nice?”

She had big yellow eyes, the colour of hot iron in the forge just before it’s ready to weld. They were so bright, I almost didn’t notice the crow’s feet. “Yes, my Lady,” I said. I put down the basket and pulled off the cloth I’d covered it with, to keep the flies away. “A few token offerings, to show my—”

“Not too token, I hope.” She reached past me, brushing against my arm, and I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “Honey-cakes,” She said. “I like honey-cakes.”

I’d also brought dried figs, a cheese, a two-pound wheat loaf, a dozen olives, a bunch of grapes, a slice of honeycomb wrapped in vine leaves, half a dozen dried sausages, and a jar of pickled walnuts. She grabbed the handle of the basket, pulled it toward Her, and began stuffing Her face. She ate quickly, like a slave.

“This is particularly good cheese,” She said, with her mouth full. “So, what can I do for you?”

No beating about the bush. My arm was starting to blister, where She’d touched it. “I want to know the future, my Lady,” I said.

She looked at me. Honey glistened at both corners of Her mouth. “No,” She said, “you don’t, trust me.” She picked up a sausage. “What you want,” She went on, “is happiness, prosperity, honour, and wealth. Am I right or am I right?”

I hesitated. Her temple—bigger than a hut, smaller than a barn—was rendered inside with plaster and painted white. At one time, I’m guessing, it was a tomb, from back when they buried rich men with their chariots and horses and armour. The plaster was beginning to flake just above the doorframe. She filled the place like a hermit crab. “I’d like that,” I admitted, because lying to the gods is a mug’s game. “But that’s not why I—”

“No, of course not.” Her fingernails were gouging into the beeswax that sealed the pickled walnuts. “You’re far too earnest and high-minded for that, of course you are. You want to know if there’s anything the Erymanthians can do about their plague.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

She nodded. “Because they hired you to come here and ask.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Of course,” She said. “And the answer is, no, there isn’t. They’re screwed.” She gave me a dazzling smile. “But they paid you in advance.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“So that’s all right. I do like these walnuts. It’s the quality of the vinegar that makes all the difference.”

I felt like I’d been slapped across the face. “Is there nothing the Erymanthians can do?”

She shook Her head. “Nothing at all,” She said. “It’d be a complete waste of time and effort trying. They brought it on themselves, needless to say. Why do people do that? It’s so silly.” She bit into a fig and spat out the stalk. “Still, that’s mortals for you. Anyway, not your problem. You’ve done what you were hired to do, and you brought me these delicious figs, so everything’s fine.”

I wanted to say: surely there must be something—repentance, prayers, sacrifices, gift offerings, building a temple. She shook Her head. “Waste of time,” She repeated. “Once I’ve made my mind up, that’s that.” Then She grinned. “Unless I choose to change it, of course. But in this case I don’t choose, so that’s that.”

I didn’t want to ask. But since She could read my mind, there didn’t seem much point in staying silent. “What did they do?”

“None of your business,” She said sharply, and I felt my guts twist. She tapped the side of Her nose with Her finger. “Thou shalt not pry,” She said. “But I forgive you, just this once, because of those heavenly walnuts. So instead of smiting you, I’ll let you do a little job for me. How does that sound?”

I bowed my head. “I am yours to command, my Lady.”

“Well of course you are, silly.” She wiped Her mouth on Her wrist and stood up. She was well over six feet tall, maybe nearer seven. I hadn’t appreciated that when She was sitting down. “That’s what you people are for, that and baking.” She smiled. I never saw anyone who could communicate so much diverse and complex information with nothing but a few face muscles. “Now then, what I want you to do for me is this.”

She crossed the room in three strides, lifted a vase off the cedar chest standing against the wall, came back, put it on the little folding table next to where She’d been sitting, frowned at it, shook Her head, went back and replaced it exactly where it had been on the chest. “I want you to sail your ship to Iden Astea,” She said. “It’s on a bay about twelve days’ sail north of here. Know it?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Of course you do. In that case, you know the city?” She laughed. “Call it a city. There’s a hundred and sixteen families living inside the wall, plus another forty-odd scattered about the island. Used to be a lot more of them five hundred years ago, but there you go. Times change,” She said, “or so they tell me.”

“I know the city.”

“Betterer and betterer.” She beamed at me. “I want you to burn it down for me,” She said. “I want you to kill all the men, then round up the women and children and sell them to the Sherden. You can keep whatever you get for them. Oh, and while you’re at it, round up all the sheep and goats on the island and sacrifice them to me, there’s a sweetheart.”

She looked at me. You’re not supposed to look directly at the sun, because it’s bad for you, but what can you do when the sun looks directly at you?

I’d thought it before I could stop myself: or—what did they...?

“They were very naughty,” She said. “And rude. But you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. What you need to do is sail your ship to Iden Astea and do as you’re told.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“That’s my brave little soldier. And if you do that, I’ll give you something nice. What would you like?”

Not to have to go to Iden Astea. “I don’t know.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” She said. “I know exactly what you’d like. You’d like to be a landowner. You’d like a place of your own to call home.” She smiled again. “You’d like to be monarch of all you survey. Yes?”

I nodded.

“Well, of course you would. Now run along and see to it, and do try and get a move on. It’s a funny thing, but being immortal doesn’t make you patient. Quite the opposite, actually.”

She was right about one thing. More than anything else in the whole world, I wanted my own place.

I don’t suppose you can really understand what that’s like. I’m assuming you’re like everybody else, except me and a very few others. You were born on the land your family’s owned and worked for generations; it may be four acres or four hundred, that doesn’t really matter, it’s just a question of scale. You have a place of your own.

Everything else about you comes from that. It decides, for example, who you marry, who gets to be the mother or father of your children: one of the neighbours, inevitably, so already the field narrows from half the human race down to maybe eight or ten; and one of them’s the prince’s daughter, so you can forget all about her, and two of them come from those no-good families we don’t talk to, and two of them are already spoken for, and one of them can’t make cheese to save her life— The same sort of process of elimination brought you into the world; simple rural logic. You are where you live; you are what you own. And people and cattle die and barns burn down and trees snap off in the wind and locusts wipe out a whole year’s crops, but the land, the crumbly black soil and the stones (eight generations of your family have picked out every last one and tossed them into the hedge, and still there’s more of them) aren’t ever going anywhere; the most you can do is plough in lime and cowshit, or let it all go back to briars and withies (but someone else will be along sooner or later, your son or your great-grandson, to root them all out, plough in lime and cowshit, then let it all slip back into jungle again...) You have a place of your own, which defines you, and everybody knows exactly who and what you are because of it, from the day you’re born until the day you die. And if you’re wise you know your place, and everything is just fine.

It doesn’t matter that you’re bound to the soil. Legally, a serf can’t go more than five miles from his farmhouse without his lord’s permission. Some people say that that makes him property, like the house and the barns and the fence-posts and the plough and the oxen. You plough when he tells you to, not when you want to or when the time is right. You need the lord’s permission to marry and to breed children. When the lord dies, his son inherits: the land and the fixtures, the live and dead stock, including you. But you still have a place; a place of your own. The lord giveth, but there are constraints on what he can take away. He can’t evict you, unless you neglect to pay your rent and work your allotted time. Maybe you’re property, but you’re not his property. You don’t belong to him, you belong to the land.

And by me, that’s a small price to pay for belonging. Everyone belongs somewhere. A place for everyone, and everyone in his place.

Except for people like me, the very few, too few to matter.

Once, presumably, generations ago, we had a place of our own too. But something must have happened—war, plague, drought, flood, one of those tiresome Acts of God—and we lost it, let it slip through our fingers.

Well, now. The fact that I was born proves that it’s not the end of the world. There’s a place for people like me; all over the place, in fact. We walk from district to district, looking for work; a week here, a month or so there if we’re lucky—and our luck is usually someone else’s misfortune; a broken leg, a fall from a ladder, an old man getting too weak to fulfill his obligations to his lord at ploughing or harvest and too poor to hire regular help. Serfs have a place of their own, even if it’s just a single room you share with the pigs. I don’t.

Neither did my father. But he wasn’t the sort of man who takes it on the chin and gets on with it. So, when he was younger than I am now, he walked down from the hills to the coast and waited till a ship put in for the night. The sea, after all, is different: different rules; freedom. He walked up to the ship and asked the skipper, you wouldn’t happen to need an extra hand? Are you kidding, the skipper said; and my father left the land and went to live on the sea, which proves that people will do anything when they’re desperate.

I bet you shuddered just then at the very thought of it. Actually, it could be worse. Yes, it’s a dangerous life, a great many sailors die. You never know from one day to the next. A storm can come up, faster than a horse galloping, and smash you into the rocks or sweep you out of sight of shore into the vast emptiness, and nobody will ever know what became of you except that you went to sea and never came back. That aside, though, it’s not so bad.

It worked out for my father. He started as an oarsman, and the palms of his hands and the skin on his buttocks rubbed away raw and grew back hard as boot-soles. In return for rowing all day he got his bread and cheese and a pint of wine and his oar-bench to sleep on; and then one day his ship came across a smaller ship, and it was in a remote place, with nobody about to see... He and his pals killed all the men, scuttled the ship, and divided the cargo between them, strictly fair and egalitarian. My father sold his share at the next landfall they came to, and instead of drinking the proceeds he bought a few carefully chosen bits and pieces, small tools, arrowheads and trinkets, which he kept in a jar under his bench and sold at the next place they came to— And ten years later, he bought a third-share in the ship, when one of the owners died.

I take after him, so people tell me. I own a third share in a ship, but not the same one. My ship has fifty oars and carries twenty-five tons. It’s faster than anything except a Sherden cutter, and it has a mast and a sail, though we don’t use them unless we have to, for obvious reasons. I sleep under a roof in the wheelhouse, not on an oar-bench under the stars, and there are times when I can almost kid myself I’ve got a place of my own. But then I wake up in the morning and the view I see isn’t the same as it was yesterday, or the day before, and a gust of wind reminds me that I exist on sufferance, relying every minute of every day on the sea’s compassion... That’s no way to live, people tell me, and I’m inclined to agree with them. But I do it anyway.

“So,” Enki said, as I reached the ship. “What did She say?”

“Don’t ask,” I told him. He pursed his lips. He knows me.

Enki reminds me of me. Actually, he gives me an unpleasantly convincing idea of what I’ll be like in ten years time, if I live that long. His third of the ship belonged to his uncle, and he’s been sailing her since he was nine. He still gets sick in a storm, but we all pretend not to notice. “Fine,” he said. “So, back the way we came.”

“No,” I said. “North.”

He frowned. “But aren’t we supposed to report back to the Erymanthians?”

“No point,” I told him. “Besides, by the time we get there they’ll all be dead.”

He thought about that. Enki thinks like the sun, brilliant but a bit slow-moving. “Fair enough,” he said. “No skin off our noses. So, on to Celeuthoe.”

“Yup,” I said. “And then Iden Astea.”

The name rang a bell. He closed his eyes for a moment until he’d placed it. “What do we want to go there for?”

“She said so.”

He went a colour he usually only goes in very bad weather. “Fair enough,” he said.

That night we put in at Toliethron, which is basically just a beach between two spits. A freshwater spring comes tumbling down the cliff, so you can fill your jars, but otherwise the most you can say for it is that it keeps still in bad weather. “So,” Enki said in the wheelhouse, lowering his voice, “why are we going to Iden Astea?”

That’s Enki. He fondly believes that if we’re fifty miles away and he keeps his voice down, the Goddess won’t hear him.

“She wants us to burn down the city,” I said.

“Ah.”

“And kill all the men, and sell the women and children, and slaughter all the sheep and burn them.”

He nodded slowly. “Who gets the money for the women and children?”

“We do.”

He looked at me. He had that look on his face, as though he’d heard his mother coughing in that particular way and knew what it meant. “Not so bad, then,” he said.

“Pretty bad,” I said.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not if it’s the Lady’s will,” he said firmly. “Thy will be done, remember. We’re covered. And let’s say a couple of hundred women at a drachma a pop—”

“Don’t,” I said.

“I’m just saying, that’s all.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

He shrugged. “Mind you,” he said, “it’s a big ask, storming a city. Like, there’s fifty-five of us and what, a hundred of them, fit to carry a spear, I mean. It’s not going to be like picking an apple off a tree.”

“The Goddess will be with us,” I said.

“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “We’ll have them for breakfast, no doubt about it.” He paused. “Why us, did She say?”

“No.”

“Did you piss her off or anything?”

“I might have done, I don’t know.”

He looked at me. Relieved, I think, rather than angry; if it was my fault, then it couldn’t be his. “Easy done,” he said. “You’ve really got to watch your mouth, talking to—-” Quick skyward glance, then eyes back on his sandals before anyone noticed— “Them.”

“I don’t remember saying anything bad,” I told him. “I think She was just looking for an excuse.”

“She doesn’t need an excuse,” he said.

I remembered the way She’d gobbled the cheese, and the olives. “I’m not sure about this,” I said.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But there are other gods.”

He looked at me, that don’t-do-anything-stupid look I know so well. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “But there’s fifty-five of us, and we live on a ship.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I know what I’m doing.”

Why would anyone deliberately piss off a god? They’re stronger than us. They control our lives. To them, we’re just property. Unlike mortal lords, they can kill us at will, or (worse) displace us, pull us up by the roots and leave us in the sun. I am the Lady’s, to use as she commands, on the strict understanding that what I do in her service is her fault, not mine.

Even so. There are limits.

For me—and you can see how stupid and flaky I am—the line gets drawn when it comes to enslaving my fellow man. A slave isn’t like a serf. A slave gets pulled up by the roots and taken from his place and put forcibly where he doesn’t belong. That’s not right.

People say I’m idiotic for making such distinctions. Slave or serf, they say, what’s the big deal? And slaves get treated well, because they’re an investment. You spend good money on plant and equipment, naturally you take good care of it. You’d be crazy not to.

I can’t argue with that. Correction: I won’t argue with that, because it’s not my place to do so. But I’m outside all of that. My privilege, on account of not having a place of my own. I draw my own lines, even if it means annoying the almighty. I can do no other, gods help me.

I knew what I was doing all right. I was telling a lie.

But what the hell. There are other gods, ever so many of Them, and if the poets are to be believed They spend Their everlasting lives fighting like cats. And our next stop but one was Choris Seautou.

Everybody knows the white temple on the promontory at Choris, even if they’ve never seen it, never left home in their lives. Choris is where the Archer God lives. Getting in to see Him costs you a sheep, but in this case I reckoned it’d be a sheep well spent. So I bought one in the market at Celeuthoe and we rigged up a pen for it on the aft deck. “What do we want a sheep for?” Nijah asked. I tapped the side of my nose with my finger, and he shrugged and got on with his work.

Getting from Celeuthoe to Choris can be a breeze, or it can be several days of sheer misery. I had a bad feeling about it, because unlike Enki I don’t believe you can get past the Goddess by whispering. But instead we got a nice brisk north-westlerly wind. Bani said we could raise the sail, but I gave him a look and he dropped the subject. A sail, after all, can take you to all sorts of places in no time flat, including places you hadn’t intended to go. I’ve spent my life trying to avoid unintended destinations, and look where it’s got me.

I was standing up in the prow, searching the skyline for the first gleam of the white temple, when Enki suddenly appeared next to me. I hadn’t heard him, but it’s noisy up the front end of a ship.

“We should raise the sail,” he said.

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said. “We’re making seven knots. That’s plenty fast enough.”

“I want you to raise the sail.”

I turned to face him. His eyes were the colour of hot iron, just before it’s ready to weld. “Oh,” I said.

“It’s all right,” She said. “I’m here, aren’t I? What could possibly go wrong if I’m here?”

You can’t lie to the gods, everybody knows that; nor can you keep anything from them. I’d thought it, so I might as well say it. “Why are you here?”

“To make sure you get a move on,” She said. “Otherwise you’d just dawdle. You people are great dawdlers, which is odd, when you come to think of it. Bearing in mind that you’ve got so little time, I’m amazed at how willing you are to waste it.”

A white flash, at the edge of my peripheral vision. I tried really hard not to think what it meant. “Nijah,” I called out. “Raise the mast.”

Nijah was amidships, messing about with a coil of rope. “Seriously?”

“Do as you’re damn well told.”

I didn’t look at him, so I didn’t see the expression on his face. “All right,” I heard him call out, “you heard the man. All stop.” Everyone stopped rowing, and the ship began to slow down.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I have to go and see to the mast.”

“Of course you do.” She smiled at me. It wasn’t quite the same, on Enki’s face, but the meaning was clear nevertheless. “Remember, no dawdling.”

Enki’s face went blank, and a seagull that hadn’t been there a moment ago spread its wings and launched off the rail into the air. I tried very hard to keep my mind from thinking. She might be flying away, but She was still listening.

I turned my head. Just because you mustn’t think doesn’t mean you can’t use your eyes. I’d been right. The white flash I’d seen was the sun on the walls of the white temple.

“Are you all right?” Enki asked me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was miles away.”

He looked at me. “What are we raising the mast for? I thought you wanted to stop at Celeuthoe.”

“I do.” I made a colossal effort and got a grip on myself. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking of. All right,” I called past him, to Nijah and the others, “forget about the mast, we’re closer than I thought we were. Carry on rowing.”

Nijah gave me a look, but I couldn’t be bothered with him. I was too busy trying to figure out where I was. I could see the white temple, and the Goddess had left in a hurry. That meant, surely, that we’d entered the jurisdiction of the Archer God—

On whom, I reflected unhappily, everything now depended. Not a pleasant thought.

The drill is, you lead your sheep on a bit of string up the hill to the gatehouse of His temple, where a porter takes it from you and tells you to wait. My sheep didn’t want to be led, which meant I ended up back on the beach with rope-burns on both hands. We tried again; me leading the sheep, Nijah and Bani behind it, pushing. “That’s a really bad omen,” Nijah told me, “the sheep not wanting to go.”

“Shut up, Nijah,” I said. “You’re not helping.”

We got there in the end, and I handed the bit of string to the porter. The sheep grabbed its chance and made a dash for it, ripping the string out of his hand. He yelled, two of his pals chased after the sheep and flipped it onto its back.

“I know,” I told him. “Bad omen.”

He took a deep breath. “You’d better go straight in,” he said.

“What, no waiting about?”

“I got a feeling He wants to see you right away.”

The Archer God isn’t like the Goddess. For a start, He comes originally from the other side of the Friendly Sea, where most of His temples are. He has a reputation for being fair and sensible, at least compared to other gods. He’ll listen to you, they say, instead of just barking out orders and smiting. Also—well, He’s a man or at least a “He”. I know where I am with men.

You reach Him by walking through the main room of the temple, which is this big square building with nothing in it. Round the back of the high altar there’s a door, and then you go down a long, scary spiral stair, with no light except the stupid little rush taper the porter gives you; and just when the darkness and the dizziness from winding round and round and round is about to get too much to bear, you find yourself in this sort of cellar. The walls are covered floor to roof with weird frescoes, but you can only see little patches of them by the light of your pathetic little taper; wrists and ankles and ears and noses of huge, incredibly lifelike painted men and women, and the tails of horses and the claws of lions. Then there’s a sudden sharp draught, which blows your taper out.

But that doesn’t matter, because He’s arrived, and He glows in the dark. “You’ve got a nerve,” He said.

“Lord?”

“There are two commandments,” He said, “and thereby hang all the law and the prophets. One: Thou shalt not go over the head of the Lady thy Goddess. Two: Thou shalt not drag the Lord thy God into a row with His kid sister. Got that?”

“Yes, Lord.”

He sighed. “Oh for pity’s sake, stop looking at me like that and sit down.” The light of His countenance revealed a three-legged stool. I sat on it. He closed His eyes and rubbed them with His thumb and forefinger. “I know what you’re thinking,” He said. “You’re thinking, that’s a piss-poor return on a perfectly good sheep, and yes, I agree with you. But there you go,” He said. “My hands are tied.”

I looked at Him. “To the gods,” I quoted, “all things are possible.”

He scowled at me. “Well of course they are,” He said, “in theory. I mean, yes, if I really wanted to, I could cast my mantle over you and protect you, and not a hair of your head would be harmed. Only that’d mean a flaming row with my sister, who between you and me and the bedpost isn’t the easiest person in the world to get along with, and to be perfectly frank with you, I don’t think you’re worth it. Which isn’t anything about you personally,” He added. “You strike me as a decent enough sort, and not wanting to kill a bunch of strangers who never did you any harm is definitely to your credit.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. But what you’ve got to remember is, I’ve got to live with my sister. For ever and bloody ever.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“There you go again,” He said, “looking at me with those great big puppy-dog eyes. And I know what you’re thinking. I’ve got a conscience, you’re saying to yourself, I can’t go doing something I know is wrong. Well, bully for you.”

“Lord?”

“You can afford to have a conscience,” He said. “It’s one of the benefits of being here-today-gone-tomorrow—you can allow yourself to think in terms of right and wrong and all that nonsense. I can’t.”

“To the gods, all things are—”

“Yes, I know,” He snapped. “Except for that.” He turned His head, almost as if He didn’t want to look me in the face. “You don’t understand,” He said, “how could you? No, sorry, I feel for you, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re just going to have to do as she tells you or face the consequences. Which won’t,” He added, “be pretty.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Sorry about that,” He said. “I’ve got half a mind to let you have your sheep back, except it might set a precedent, and we don’t want that.”

“I’m not worried about the sheep, Lord.”

“Good man. All right, then, off you go.”

I turned away from His light, trying to remember where the stairs were. I found the wall with the tip of my nose. “Just one thing.”

I turned back. “Yes, Lord?”

He gave me a solemn look, as though I was costing him money. “I can’t help you,” He said, “because I’m on land. Nobody on land is free, not even me.” He paused, then added, “Do you understand?”

“No, Lord.”

“Then try thinking about it,” He snapped. “Now get out.”

Enki thought it was a terrible idea, but I decided to tell the crew what we were going to do next, and why. They took it well, all things considered. I told them that if anyone wanted to jump ship at Antecyrene or Moas they were welcome to do so, but nobody showed any interest. They knew that the Goddess had her eye on them, and she didn’t suffer men of conscience gladly; besides, there was money to be made, and opportunities like that don’t come along every day. My father had gotten his lucky break by robbing and murdering strangers and it never bothered him. And in this case they had a rock solid assurance that they were doing the Goddess’s will; what more can you possibly ask for?

Try thinking about it, the Archer God had said, so I did.

To a certain extent, He was simply stating the obvious. Everybody on land—everybody with a home—is a serf, to a greater or lesser extent; we’re all bondsmen of each other, in a circle, like the snake that eats its own tail. The bought-for-money slaves serve the serfs, who serve the princes, who serve the king, who serves the Great King, and even he isn’t at liberty to do whatever he likes. He has responsibilities, like all other landsmen; he has borders to protect, people to save from drought, earthquake, and famine, gods to answer to; we’re his bondsmen, and he’s ours. The Great King could no more marry for love than you could, he eats what’s put in front of him (after it’s been tasted for poison, naturally), and his clothes are laid out for him each morning by the chamberlain, in strict order according to ritual and precedent; wearing a white shirt when there’s an R in the month would be unthinkable. It goes with the territory. It goes with having a place.

The sea, on the other hand— The sea is a remarkable thing, when you come to think of it. Nobody owns it. It’ll kill you if you give it half a chance, but it’ll take you anywhere you want to go, it’ll even carry your luggage for you. It can turn a nobody like my father into a person of consequence, owner of a third of a ship— Think about that. The third third of our ship is owned by a prince, and it’s one of his most prized possessions. You can’t bring the sea up in front of the magistrate if it murders your entire family, but if you come from the sea you can’t be held accountable either. You can rob other ships, murder people and throw them over the side, swoop down on cities and steal and slaughter to your heart’s content, and nobody will come after you, because of jurisdictional issues. The sea isn’t a place, it’s a state of mind. The sea is freedom.

The Archer God couldn’t help me because He was on land. Oh, I thought.

I was letting these issues develop and mature in the compost-heap of my mind when Enki came and leant on the rail next to me. He doesn’t do that. “I hope you’re not planning anything stupid,” She said.

In the liturgy we say; Almighty Goddess, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hidden... We say it like it’s a good thing, because we’ve never actually had one of Them up close and breathing in our ear. “You know what I’m thinking,” I said. “So why ask?”

“No my Lady this morning,” She said. “I ought to smite you for that.”

“You won’t, though,” I said. “You want me to do a job for you.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of other people.”

“But you chose me,” I said. “Why was that?”

The smile didn’t look nearly so fetching on Enki. “I have my reasons. Partly because you annoyed me.”

“But partly—?”

She laughed. “Partly because you’re the right man for the job,” She said. “You’re smart, and your crew love you—”

News to me. “You’re kidding.”

“Oh yes. It’s amazing who you can get attached to. They’d do anything for you.” She grinned; what fools these mortals be. “I knew your father, you know. You’re quite like him.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

“Thou shalt not contradict. You’re quite like him in some ways.”

“Thank you.”

“But not in others. For instance, he didn’t answer back.”

A thought struck me. “Is that how he got his lucky break?” I asked. “Was that you?”

“That’d be telling. Actually, yes, it was. You see, I had my eye on you before you were even born.”

That made me shiver.

She laughed again. “Oh come on,” She said. “That’s a good thing. It means that nothing you ever did was your fault, it was all me. Now isn’t that a comfort?”

I thought of all the horrible things I’ve done, the ones I’m truly ashamed of. “No,” I said, “not really.”

“Oh you,” She said. “You worry too much. That’s probably why I like you so much.”

Cold fingers closed around my heart. It’s scary when a goddess likes you. It means She’ll be back to play with you, again and again. “Is that right?”

“Oh yes. I like men of principle. They’re so sweet.”

A seagull erupted off the rail in a flurry of wingbeats. It hadn’t been there a moment before, and it scared the life out of me. Then Enki looked at me, as if to say: why am I standing here leaning against this rail?

We put in at Leucopolis, which is as far north as we usually go. Any farther and you run into the nasty currents in the bay, which can suddenly whisk you away, far out of sight of land, and that’s the last anyone ever hears of you.

Actually, it’s not that bad. I’ve been out of sight of land six times and I’m still alive. It was, of course, utterly terrifying, a cross between drowning and falling off a cliff—neither of which I’ve ever done, needless to say, but I’ve been underwater and I’ve fallen out of trees, and I can extrapolate. I can extrapolate because I have something in my experience to extrapolate from; which is a way of saying that I can still see land on the horizon even though I’m out on the water. But when you’re completely surrounded by the stuff, there’s no seamarks, nothing to orient yourself by, unless you count the sun. But the Sun’s one of Them, a god, and I’ve learnt (from the sad histories of others and my own bitter experience) that if you try and navigate by gods, you’re liable to come to a bad end.

We had a buyer at Leucopolis for the hundred and sixty ingots of copper of questionable purity that we’d got stuck with the year before, the consequence of doing business with dishonest people. In exchange we got three hundred jars of dates, stamped with what looked very much like the royal seal of Heddo but in fact wasn’t. But down south no one would know the difference, so that was all right. Just to make sure, though, I bought a jar of genuine Heddo dates, emptied out one of the dubious jars, refilled the dubious jar with the good stuff, and carefully repaired the seal with a brooch-pin heated in a charcoal stove. We tried eating the replaced dates ourselves, but they were horrible, so we chucked them over the side.

That night, when everybody else was asleep on the beach, I went back on board the ship, knelt down beside the socket the mast fits into, and prayed, a thing I don’t usually do as a rule. I said, Seafather, can you hear me? or words to that effect.

There was no sound except the lapping of the water round the hull. Ah well, I said to myself. It was a pretty terrible idea anyway.

Then I looked up, and there He was, sitting on an oar-bench. He looked like—

“Dad?” I said.

He shook his head. “Though I knew him quite well,” Seafather said, “back in the day. You’re like him, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said.

“Yes, so you have. Oh, and the answer is yes.”

“But I haven’t asked the—”

He looked at me. All desires known, and from whom no secrets are hidden. “You want to find a way of not doing what my niece told you to. My nephew couldn’t help you, but He hinted I could. Well, call it a hint; it was a bit obscure if you ask me. But you’re a smart boy and you figured it out. And the answer is yes.”

“You can help me?”

“Sure I can.”

“And will you?”

“If you want me to.”

I waited for a moment. Some details would be nice, I thought.

“You want details,” He said. “Fine. Close your eyes.”

So I did that; and at once I saw a black sky and felt rain and spray stinging my face, wind ripping at my skin, and the deck under my feet heaving. The mast had been up but had snapped off. Then a wave came up out of nowhere and everything turned upside down, and I fell, a short way, and my nose was full of water and I couldn’t—

I opened my eyes and looked at Him. “Really?” I said.

“Sure,” he replied. “Freedom.”

I gazed at him. “I don’t understand,” I said.

“And you were doing so well.” He smiled. It was a kind smile, compassionate, fatherly. Everyone who comes from the sea lives every moment of his life by Seafather’s compassion. We stand on the palm of his open hand; he forbears to close his fingers and crush us. “You want to get out of doing the job my niece gave you.”

“Yes.”

“In other words, you want to be free.”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then,” He said, and for a moment I could feel the water in my nose and throat, killing me. “You want to be free of the evil task, and the guilt. I can do that for you, easy as falling off the rigging.”

Then I understood. “But I’d be dead,” I said.

“Exactly,” He said. “You’d be free.” He clicked his tongue, as though I was being deliberately obtuse. “And you know what, I envy you people sometimes. Really, I do. You have a freedom I can never share. You can choose for it all to be over, where nobody can hurt you ever again. You can opt out. I can’t do that.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I’d be dead.”

He laughed. “There’s worse things, trust me. There’s living in pain. Did you ever see a sick person die slowly? Yes, of course you did.”

I nodded.

“But at least she died eventually, didn’t she? It was long and horrible, but eventually she was free. And of course there’s other sorts of pain. There’s prison. And living with things you’ve done.” He frowned, then went on: “Pain is a prison. Guilt is worse. The only true freedom is death.”

I must’ve pulled a sad face or made a sad noise or something, because he nodded again. “No,” he said, “trust me, it is. Everyone living is a prisoner, except for us. Well, us too, actually, but I’m not supposed to say that. Mostly, chained to duty, or love. Basically the same thing.”

“I don’t—”

“Understand? Yes you do. Your life is wretched, nothing but misery and pain, but you can’t just run away, because you have obligations. You’re chained to the people who depend on you, the people who love you. You can’t escape, because of the pain they’d endure if you weren’t there any more. The only way out is when death sets you free.”

“Yes,” I said, “but like you said, I won’t be there any more.” I hesitated. “I like being there,” I said.

“You enjoy pain and suffering? There’s a word for that.”

“Yes, but if I’m not there, surely that’s missing the point. What good is freedom if you’re not even there?”

There was such deep compassion in His eyes, as deep as the sea. “You want to be free and still be there? How charmingly naïve.” He looked away for a moment, then looked back. “Actually, it’s possible, but only for us. That’s our privilege.” I felt the weight of his presence on me, as though I was at the bottom of the sea with all that water pressing down on me. “Listen carefully,” He said, “because this is gospel truth and divine revelation. People would pay good money for what I’m about to tell you.”

He paused for a moment, then went on: “There are only two ways to be free, death and not giving a damn. We chose the latter option, leaving you people the former. That’s how we survive, by not giving a damn—about what we do, or what happens to anyone else, about anything. Giving a damn is binding yourself in chains that even we can’t loose.” He grinned. “Which is why we’re incapable of it, simply a matter of survival. If we cared about anything, we wouldn’t last five minutes. How you people can endure it I have absolutely no idea. You’re tough little buggers, I’ll say that for you.”

I took a deep breath. “What She wants me to do,” I said. “It isn’t right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s right,” He said, “it’s the divine will. That’s the definition of right, you halfwit. She’s a goddess, and where the hell were you when She laid the foundations of the Earth? But if you refuse to let Her set you free, that’s your own stupid wilfulness and I have absolutely no sympathy.”

“But what She wants is murder. That’s wrong. It’s a crime.”

“What’s a crime?” He was being patient, trying to keep his temper. “The definition of a crime is something that’s against the law. Who makes the law? She does. We do.”

“It’s wrong,” I said.

“Says who? All right, try this. Would it be wrong to kill and eat your firstborn child?”

Here we go, I thought.

“In Tidor it’s the law that you sacrifice your firstborn to the Good Goddess and eat the body. You invite all the neighbours and make a party of it. People look forward to it, it’s a sacrament. And if you don’t do it, they drench you in tar and set fire to you in the marketplace, as an awful warning to other sinners. Anyway, that’s what they think in Tidor, and they’re advanced. They have plumbing and indoor sanitation. You don’t even know that that is.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t.”

“Well then, there you go. You’re ignorant.” He breathed out slowly, then breathed in again. “Laws and rules are just arbitrary things. We invent them, and on top of that you think up even more of them, as if you hadn’t got enough chains already. You know, you people really enjoy making life difficult for yourselves.” He shrugged. “The point is, they’re just conventions, like fashion. They don’t actually mean anything, any more than a side parting or a floor-length hemline means anything. They’re just whims, really. Whims of iron.”

I thought for a moment. I think he had the decency to look the other way while I was doing it. “So,” I said, “what am I supposed to do?”

“What we tell you.” Then suddenly He grinned again.

“And since there’s a hell of a lot of us and we all want different things, all you need to do is shop around till you find one of us who wants the same things you do, and put yourself under his protection. Easy as falling off the rigging. You know what the difference is, between gods and men?”

“Tell me.”

“Gods are stronger. That’s it.” He paused. “I’d have thought you’d have known that by now.”

“But what if what you want is wrong?”

“Oh for crying out loud,” He said, and vanished in a clap of thunder.

All the next day I had this sort of buzzing in my ears. It drove me mad. It eased off at nightfall. She knew that if she pushed me too far, I’d be no use to Her.

Enki said; “How are we going to do this?”

I hadn’t given it much thought. “Piece of cake,” I told him. “The Goddess is on our side, remember? She’ll think of something. Which means we don’t have to.”

While I was saying it, my poor worm-eaten brain was whirring. How precisely do you capture a walled town when outnumbered three to one? It’s happened, because I’ve seen it. At least, I’ve sailed past places where there was a city last time I passed that way but now there’s just a heap of stones and some ash; and I ask, what happened? And people tell me it was just one or two ships; usually also, it happened so quickly, they came charging in before anyone had a chance to shut the gates... Usually unspoken; it must have been the will of the gods, or how could such a thing happen?

Fine; quite reassuring, in its way, if you happen to be the Hand of God. But even so, there’s such a thing as practicalities. We had weapons; you don’t entrust your life to the freedom of the seas without a bare minimum of either a spear or a bow and two dozen arrows. In addition I have a sword and a helmet, taken off the body of a rich bastard I’d killed, and so did Enki and three or four of the others. Now, the recipe for a soldier is weapons plus experience... I guess we had plenty of that, too, between us. One aspect of the freedom of the sea is that people are free to take the valuable things in the hold of your ship, if you let them; by the same token, you’re at perfect liberty to stop them, if you can, by any means necessary. We knew about as much about fighting as the average landsman knows about hedging and ditching—enough to get the job done.

Storming a city, on the other hand... One time, when I was much younger, we got caught up by the wind and blown right the way down to Coelesyra, the furthest south any of us had ever been. While we were there, we thought we might as well see the sights—outstanding among which is the temple the Great King built to commemorate his victory over some unfortunate enemy or other; the walls are floor-to-roof carvings, life-size and amazingly realistic, of the King’s army storming cities. An amazing thing, and truly one of the wonders of the world, so three cheers for the King in his aspect as patron of the arts, and as good as a seven year apprenticeship in the craft of storming cities.

According to the King, you pile up a huge mountain of earth against the city wall so your soldiers can walk straight from the top of the mound onto the ramparts; or you build wooden towers on wheels; or you knock holes in the walls with massive rams mounted on carriages; or you dig tunnels under the walls and get in that way. Thanks to the Great King I know all about it, including the ridiculous amount of time and manpower and wealth it takes to turn a few buildings into rubble...

Either that, or a god helps you.

I had eight days to think about it, as we worked our way up the coast towards Iden Astea. It was one of those trips where everything seemed to work out perfectly. You arrive in A with a cargo of bleached linen cloth; people in A are desperate for bleached linen and in return they give you lemons, of which they have so many that the town stinks of lemons squashed under cart wheels because nobody can be bothered to pick them up. So onwards to B, where early frosts buggered up the lemon harvest that year but the walnuts more than made up for it... So you carry walnuts to C, where walnut trees don’t grow and where they mine copper, and on to D, where they have no copper and are at war with C, so they can’t get any but need the stuff desperately to make arrowheads to shoot at C’s invading army. Everywhere we went on that trip, we supplied deficiencies and were amply rewarded out of surpluses and people were genuinely pleased to see us, which was by no means always the case. “It’s because the Goddess is with us,” said the intellectuals in my crew, and I had a horrible feeling they were right.

Your first sight of Iden Astea is when you sail up the coast from Nöon Egno and come round the headland into the bay. The first time I went there was when I was eleven years old; the first time I was allowed to go out with my father on a run. I was standing next to him in the prow—that was the old ship, not the one I have now—and he pointed, and I saw a hill on the far side of the bay with something black on it. “That’s Iden,” he told me. “We always do well in Iden.”

This time, we got there early, just as the sun was rising. That meant we had to round the headland in the dark, a bloody stupid thing to do. “It’ll be fine,” Enki said, “the Goddess will see us right,” and evidently She did, because we had no trouble at all. We’d done it like that with a view to hitting the city while they were still asleep, but it didn’t work out that way; a current held us back, and by the time we got close it was nearly light, and people would already be up and about and making their way to the fields.

“Plan B,” I told them. “We hang about here until everyone’s gone out to work and there’s only women and children in the city.”

Nijah didn’t like that. “That means we’ll have to go out and get them, in open country.”

“No,” said Rami, “because as soon as we set the city on fire, they’ll see the smoke out in the fields and come running, and then we’ll be trapped inside the city and burnt to death—”

“Fine,” Enki said. “So we don’t set fire to anything. We round up the women and children, and when the men come home at night—”

“We’ll be inside and they’ll be outside,” Nijah said, “and they’ll outnumber us three to one. Sort of like, oh, I don’t know, a siege—”

“Screw Plan B,” I said. “We’ll go now. The Goddess got us into this, She can get us out of it.”

That actually seemed to make sense to the rest of them. By that point, I was past caring.

So we took a line on our usual seamarks and went straight in, the way we always did when we came to Iden. I noticed that there were more fishing boats drawn up on the beach than usual. At that time of day they should be at sea. Still, no matter. We pressed on. When we got there, we all jumped out with the ropes and hauled the ship up out of the water. I was looking over my shoulder, watching for people coming down from the town to see who we were and find out if we’d brought them anything nice. No sign of anyone.

“Nijah,” I said, “run up the beach and see if the gates are open.”

They were. If they’d seen us and suspected trouble, they’d have shut them. So why was there no-one about? “I don’t like it,” Bani said. Neither did I. “Shut up,” I told him.

Enki wanted us to run up the beach, but it’s a long way and uphill and you don’t fight so well when you’re gasping for breath, so we walked. Of course, I’d never been inside Iden before. They always bring their stuff down to the beach and take back what they get from us. No big deal, it was just the way we’d always done it; and there’s nothing to see in Iden, so why walk a mile uphill when you don’t have to?

“Is there more than one gate?” I asked Enki.

He looked at me. “I don’t know, do I?”

City gateways are special places, of course. At that time of the morning, you know what you’d expect to find there. People and carts on their way to the fields; traders setting up stalls; a priest sacrificing or a magistrate getting ready to hear cases. When we got there, the gateway was deserted. We went inside, feeling like idiots with our spears in our hands and arrows nocked on the bowstring. Nobody to be seen anywhere.

It took a while before we figured it out. Actually it was Nijah, not usually the sharpest arrow in the quiver, who guessed the reason, or at least said it out loud. “There’s nobody here,” he said, and then, “they’re all dead.” As soon as he said it, I knew he was right. And then, when we tentatively poked our heads into a few houses, we found them.

“Fuck,” said Bani, who doesn’t usually swear. “Plague.”

He backed out again, dropping his spear and pulling his tunic up over his face. I didn’t doubt he was right, but I decided I had to make sure. So I pushed past him and went inside, and there was a whole family; man, woman, old woman, three children, all dead. Their faces were grey and shrunken, like a desiccated rat you find on the floor of the barn. The room stank of shit, and flies were buzzing. I decided I’d done my duty and seen enough.

We ran through the gate and down the beach to the ship. When we got there I stopped to catch my breath. Enki came up beside me. His eyes were yellow.

“You idiot,” She said.

My nose was still full of the smell, and I felt as though there were flies crawling in my hair. “What happened?” I asked.

“You didn’t get here fast enough, is what happened,” She said. “While you were dawdling your way up the coast buying and selling, they all died. Before you could kill them for me. I have to say, I’m not happy.”

“Plague,” I said.

She shot me a don’t-give-me-that look. “Of course it’s plague, you fool. And you know who sent it?”

“You did.”

“No I didn’t.” She remembered she was a lady and lowered her voice. “Why would I do that, when I’d already sent you to deal with them? No, this is all my sainted brother. They did something to piss him off, and while you were lazing around sunning yourselves down south, he nipped in first with his poison arrows and wiped them all out.”

I tried to meet Her gaze, but it hurt my eyes. “Well,” I said, “they’re all dead. Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters, you clown!” She was yelling again. “How do you think this makes me look? They offend me and nothing happens to them. They offend my wretched brother and two minutes later they’re all dead. I’ll be a laughing stock. And it’s all your fault.”

I closed my eyes. “Yes, my Lady,” I said.

“Oh shut up,” She said. “No, it wasn’t your fault, strictly speaking, but that’s not doing me any good, now is it? It still makes me look like I’m soft and weak and He’s strong and powerful, and I’ll never hear the last of it.”

I realised I was shaking. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. She must have noticed me thinking about it. “Oh don’t be such a child,” She said. “You haven’t caught it.”

So that was all right. “What about—?”

“Oh for pity’s sake.” She paused for a moment. “All of your men are fine, apart from Adonijah.”

“He’s got it.”

“Not any more. I just cured him.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

She looked at me. “You care about him, don’t you? That’s so sweet. Anyway, he’s fine now. The point is, what are we going to do about this appalling mess you’ve made of everything?”

“I don’t know, my Lady.”

“No, of course you don’t. Now shut up and let me think.”

“How would it be,” I said, “if you brought them back to life? And then we could kill all the men and—”

She scowled at me. “Half-wit,” She said. “You know I can’t raise the dead. Well, I can, of course I can, but uncle Death would be livid.” She stopped and peered at me, as though She’d just found me floating in her drink. “Oh, I see. That way, at least the women and children wouldn’t die. That’s extraordinary,” She said. “You tried to trick me. You don’t even know these people, but you’d risk annoying me to save them.” She sighed. “You’re the sort of man who goes around rescuing flies from cobwebs. Don’t you realise, there’s no point? You’re all going to die sooner or later, so what does it matter?”

I forced myself to look at Her. “What does matter, my Lady?”

“I do,” she said. “Now then, where were we? Right, I’ve solved it. When the plague hit, there was one fishing boat. It was blown out to sea by uncle Seafather, almost as far as Aelia, and it’s on its way back and it’ll be here this afternoon. All of its crew were drowned except one man, so he’s the last surviving Idenite. Kill him and we’re all square. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

“My Lady—”

“Don’t even think,” She said, “of refusing. Because if you do, I’ll sink your ship and drown the lot of you. I mean it.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

She rolled those terrible golden eyes, so monstrously out of place in Enki’s eye-sockets. “All right,” she said, “I don’t know why I’m pandering to you, but here goes. You can fight him honourably in single combat, if you feel any better. A fair fight, and may the best man win.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“You’ll win, of course, but it’ll be a fair fight. Oh come on, be reasonable. Even your wire-thin sensibilities can’t object to that.”

“My—”

“It’s that or I drown your crew. And when you’ve done it, I’ll reward you. Everything you always wanted, on a silver platter.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but Enki’s eyes had gone from golden to their usual turd brown.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said.

“Why?” asked the fisherman, after we’d dumped him on the beach. “And who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter why,” I snarled back. “Fight me or die where you stand.”

Most of my fighting’s been done on beaches, in the disputed area between land and sea. Some of the time it’s land and belongs to the Archer God or Her Ladyship; some of the time it’s sea and belongs to Seafather. It’s a shifting jurisdiction, so conflict goes with the territory, like a serf.

“This is stupid,” the fisherman said, as I tossed two spears at his feet and took a long step backward. “I don’t want to fight anybody. I just want to go home and see my wife and my kids.”

“They’re dead,” I said.

He stared at me. “You what? They can’t be. What—?”

“The god sent plague.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At which moment, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder. Plague had wiped out his entire city and Seafather had drowned all his crew, but he was still alive. Therefore— I was a moron not to see it earlier—

He himself was under the protection of a god. In which case, I couldn’t hurt him. Or at the very least, his god and my goddess would cancel each other out and it’d be a fair fight. I might lose. Or if I won, it wouldn’t be cold-blooded murder...

“Which god?”

He said it twice before I realised he’d been talking to me.

“Does it matter?” I said. “Your people offended a god, so naturally you had to be punished. You’re the last survivor, so you’ve got to be killed. Now defend yourself or I’ll cut your throat.”

He looked at me long and hard, then stooped and picked up the two spears. “The hell with you,” he said.

“That’s the spirit,” I said, and backed off ten paces.

He knew the rules too, and backed off another ten. I was the challenger, so he got the first throw. He shifted his back foot, lining himself up; clearly, he knew what he was doing, which comforted me. I settled my weight equally on both feet, standing square on to give him the best possible target. It occurred to me that I was preparing to give my life for a perfect stranger, a man I’d never met before and owed nothing to. It was so silly I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t see that I had any choice.

He threw. He missed.

With hindsight, I know exactly why he missed. He was anticipating me moving out of the way at the last moment, which is of course what everybody does in a formal duel. He’d seen I was left-handed when I dropped the spears at his feet, so he knew I’d instinctively dodge left. He’d allowed for that when he threw. But of course I stayed perfectly still, to make it easier for him to hit me.

We looked at each other. It was my throw.

Now then, I thought, how can I be absolutely sure I’ll miss? Because if I missed, we’d close with our second spears and slug it out; I’m no great shakes at the hand-to-hand stuff, whereas I’m probably the best spear-thrower I’ve ever come across. He’d thrown right handed, so he’d flinch right—or he might be really clever and stay put, like I’d done, expecting me to aim left into his flinch. So, I figured, if I threw a whole pace wide to my right, that ought to do the trick.

I threw. He flinched left. I hit him in the hollow between the collar-bones, and he was dead before he hit the sand.

I walked over to get my spear. His dead eyes lit up yellow. “You clown,” She said.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Don’t talk to me like that. And you do realise, you were being horribly irresponsible.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Don’t yes-my-Lady me, you idiot. If he’d killed you, I’d have had to drown your entire crew. Don’t you care about them?”

I looked right back. “To be honest,” I said, “I don’t think I care about anything any more.”

That got me a foul look; then the eyes went cold again. A fly landed on one of them and started bustling about, like flies do. I couldn’t be bothered to shoo it away.

I walked back to the others. Nobody spoke.

“What are you standing about for?” I said. “Get on and loot the city.”

Nijah looked at me. “Do you think we should?”

“Why the hell not? Nobody owns it any more.”

“It’s crawling with plague.”

Valid point. Still, I wanted them to get something out of the whole ridiculous affair, so we traipsed round the countryside looking for anything worth having. There wasn’t much. The figs were ripe and ready to pick, but you could hardly give figs away at that time of year in any of the places we were going. We ended up with a few hoes and brush-hooks, worth their scrap value but not much more, and the dead fisherman’s nets. I’ve never had much luck with piracy, though my father did well at it, as I think I mentioned.

Before we left we set fire to the city. Not because She’d told me to do it, but because fire stops the spread of plague. And yes, because She’d told me to do it. She was perfectly right; I had my crew to think about. Even on the sea, there’s no freedom, not from the chains of responsibility and love.

Halfway to Anticonessus, a storm struck. It was all very quick. One moment we were rowing steadily across a placid wine-dark sea. The next, the ship was at forty-five degrees and my friends were hurtling into the water like windfalls from an apple tree. I wrapped both arms round an oar-bench and hung on, eyes shut, screaming prayers to Seafather, and then there was an almighty crash and the sound of wood splintering, and something hit my head and I went to sleep—

And in my sleep I dreamed that I saw Seafather, and he gave me a look of deep compassion. “Not your fault,” He said.

“Really.”

He nodded. “The fisherman was under my protection,” He said. “So you weren’t at liberty to kill him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t to know,” Seafather said generously. “And you’re under my niece’s protection, so you’ll be all right. The rest of your crew—well, that’s how it goes. No hard feelings,” He added, and then I woke up.

...on a beach.

Lying next to me on the sand were a spear, a cloth bag, a brush-hook and a hoe. The tools were from a hut just outside Iden Astea. The spear was the one I’d killed the fisherman with.

She was standing over me. She reached out a hand and helped me up. Touching Her was like touching fire. “Don’t say I don’t ever do anything for you,” She said.

“You spared me,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about that,” She said. “If I’d let my stupid uncle drown you, how would that make me look? No, I mean giving you your heart’s desire. What you always wanted.”

“A brush-hook and a hoe. Thank you.”

“Funny man.” She spread her arms wide. “All this,” She said.

“All what?”

“All of it.”

I was, I realised, on an island.

It’s not a bad island, as islands go. It’s about half a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide. I found a stream of fresh water, and a small flock of wild goats, and grapevines and a couple of fig trees. I looked in the cloth bag she’d given me; seed corn. I walked all round the island looking out to sea, but there was no land in any direction.

I’ve been here twenty years. It’s not so bad. I have a place of my own. I am monarch of all I survey. And, in spite of all that, I guess you could say I’m free.

#K.J. Parker #Playing God #short story #long post

[tokidokitokyo]

宮城県

Japanese Prefectures: Tohoku - Miyagi

都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan

Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!

Kanji・漢字

宮　みや、キュウ、グウ　Shinto shrine, palace; princess; constellations

城　しろ、ジョウ　castle

県　ケン　prefecture

東北　とうほく　north-east, Tōhoku (northernmost six prefectures of Honshu)

Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Sendai (仙台市)

Miyagi prefecture, like its neighboring Tohoku prefectures, is known for its natural beauty - beautiful coastlines and stunning wilderness. Miyagi is also known for its specialized cuisine, particularly seafood, including fresh sashimi. Sendai is the capital of the prefecture and was founded by the legendary samurai Date Masamune, who was an outstanding Edo-era tactician known as the "one-eyed dragon" for the eye patch covering his missing eye. The Shiroishi ("white stones") castle that was controlled by the retainers of Date Masamune has been fully reconstructed and hosts an annual samurai festival on the first week of October. You can even dress up as a samurai at the Date Masamune Cultural Museum as you walk through and learn more about the famous samurai.

Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット

Zao Fox Village - Miyagi Zao Kitsune Mura - 宮城蔵王キツネ村

Photo from JapanTravel Up close and personal with foxes? Yes, please! This unique tourist attraction is located in the Zao mountains bordering Yamagata Prefecture (about 2 hours south of Sendai) and hosts a village of free-roaming foxes. In addition to foxes, other animals on the premises include rabbits, goats and miniature horses. There are feeding areas, petting zoos, and a large open area for the foxes with paths, small houses, and a shrine. The foxes are curious and will follow visitors, but since they are semi-wild petting is not allowed. A video of the experience from Rachel and Jun's YouTube Channel.

Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理 Oysters - 牡蠣料理

Photo from unsplash

Oysters fresh from the sea, especially from Matsushima, are a delicacy in Miyagi prefecture. They are only available between October in March, and there is an Oyster Festival in February. There are all-you-can-eat oyster restaurants and the fresh raw oysters are well-renowned, but there are also kaki furai (fried oysters) and kaki don (oyster rice bowl) options.

Miyagi Dialect・Miyagi-ken no Hougen・宮城県の方言

いきなりがおる (ikinari gaoru)

Standard Japanese: とても疲れる (totemo tsukareru) English: to be very tired

好ち (suchi)

Standard Japanese: 好き (suki) English: like

～てけろ (～te kero)

Standard Japanese: ～てください (～te kudasai) English: please (do) ～

Example Sentence - ～てけろ

Miyagi Dialect: ここさゴミ置かねぇでなげてけろ。 Koko sa gomi okanee de nagete kero.

Standard Japanese: ここにゴミを置かないで捨ててください。 Koko ni gomi o okanaide sutete kudasai.

English: Don't leave trash here, please throw it away.

#japanese prefectures #日本語 #japanese #japanese language #japanese langblr #langblr #studyblr #都道府県 #宮城県 #miyagi

[aaronburrdaily]

October 7, 1809

Gothenburg, October 7, 1809. Slept last evening at ———, where we arrived at 11, the family all in bed. The maid got up, made us fire, got an excellent supper, and clean beds, and all with a cheerfulness which gave value to our supplies. Our last coachman was again a girl; a very pretty girl of about 16. She drove us most rapidly, and with boldness and skill. Sam himself could not have done better; nor here so well, for it was very dark. She returned immediately, having a horse to lead. We had ordered horses at 5 this morning. At 6 we set off, and got here (fourteen miles) at 1/2 p. 8. Drove to the post-house. Not a room or bed to be had; not even a place to sit down and take breakfast. We were cold and hungry, and were till 10 cruising about town before we could get admission into a house. We engaged a room, i.e., one corner of it, for it was a public room, for two hours, with promise of breakfast. We ate so enormously that we were charged 1 1/2 rix dollars each for our breakfast, being just three times the usual price. Wrote notes to Lord Nordenschold¹ and young Damon, requesting aid to procure lodgings, as we must otherwise go into the street at 12. Neither of them came ; but my indefatigable companion found two decent rooms at 27 Torg Gatan,² two trappar upp!³ at 10 1/2 rix dollars per week, more than double the price of Stockholm. This place is just now very full of strangers, particularly English. There were more than twenty of them in and out of the room while we were breakfasting, God-damning everything that was not exactly as in England. Got settled in our quarters by 1 o'clock, and sent my letters to the Governor and to others, with a card in each, a la mode soedoise,⁴ a mode which I approve. Now, I engage that neither of the three takes the least notice of the letter or card. Sent my card also to the Lieutenant N. Called at Edin's, where I lodged on my arrival here from England in May, to see the family. La belle M. is much altered. Very thin and eruption a la figure.⁵ Wrote to Captain Van Alen and to Gransbom q.v. by the mail. Took tea at 7, having dined at our enormous breakfast. Our hostess speaks English, being of an English mother. Is neat, active, obliging. In the afternoon walked with Lüning to the port, about two English miles. Missed the way and walked double the distance. Laughed at Luning's distress at passing through some ill-looking alleys and streets. Sent card this evening, with my address, to General Consul Gram, who is still here. You may recollect that I saw him about ten days ago, and that he undertook to procure passports for me from the Danish government, to be sent to Helsingborg, so that I might not be detained there.

1 One of several unsuccessful attempts to spell Nordenskjöld. 2 Market Street. 3 Two flights up, i.e., third story. 4 After the Swedish fashion. 5 For eruption a la figure. The face broken out.

#''you may recollect i saw him about ten days ago'' WHEN burr? a section of the diary must have got lost... #aaron burr #the private journal of aaron burr

[cherryxkoch]

[cisfemale she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [CHERISA “CHERRY” KOCH]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [LAURA HARRIER]. You must be the [THIRTY-TWO] year old [ARTIST]. Word is you’re [ADVENTUROUS] but can also be a bit [FLAKY] and your favorite song is [CHERRY BOMB by THE RUNAWAYS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 

INFORMATION:

fullname. cherisa "cherry" koch

nicknames. cherry.

gender. cisfemale

pronouns. she / her

d.o.b. october 13th, 1991 | ( 31 years old )

astrology. libra ☀ sagittarius ☾  leo ↑

birth place. santa fe, new mexico.

hometown. santa fe, new mexico.

current residence. aurora bay, california. ( @aurorabayaesthetic​ )

occupation. artist.

religion. spiritual.

tattoos. several ( here, here and here ).

piercings. three holes in ears, helix.

marital status. single.

sexual preference. proud pansexual.

family. antoni koch ( father ), nora koch ( mother ), four brothers, three sisters.

children. none.

CHARACTER INSPO:

angela montenegro ( bones ),  mabel mora ( only murders in the building ), gina linetti ( brooklyn nine-nine ), daphne sullivan ( white lotus ), phoebe buffay ( friends ).

PERSONALITY:

+ adventurous, carefree, fun. - flaky, gossipy, insecure.

BIOGRAPHY:

( tw: age difference, abortion mention )

being the youngest in a family with seven siblings meant that the spotlight was rarely on cherisa from an early age and she liked it that way. by the point that she was accidentally conceived, her parents were well and truly over the whole "parenting" thing and she was free to do whatever she pleased. the daughter of a polish history professor and an african-american art teacher, cherry was raised in a house full of love and art. after her father decided to move the whole family west from louisana upon his retirement to follow his dream of owning his own horse ranch. their family bred and broke horses in the middle of the santa fe desert, where there was nothing but empty land for as far as the eye could see but they made the most money with guided tours of the best tourism trails in new mexico. her childhood was filled with tourists, coming and going, taking a break from their lives and she loved it. hearing about all their stories and where they'd come from. personable, bright and cheery, she spent all her life chatting to whoever would listen.

not particularly interested in anything academic beyond devouring a good book, cherry always preferred things more on the creative side of life. she enjoyed painting, sculpting or putting together art constructions with the random pieces of materials laying around the ranch. she decorated most of their land with her art pieces, a particular enjoyment of the guests that stayed with them.

at the age of seventeen, she was matured into a beautiful young woman and with that came wandering eyes and flirtatious glances from the men who frequented. it was one particular gentleman that visited often that cherry fell head over heels for. the small glances across the room, the lightest touches from a hand - but nothing ever came from it. she went away to college, studying art but when he returned for the summer of her junior year, there he was.

she didn't mind that he clearly had taken his wedding ring off for the visit, as evident by the tan lines around his finger. her college girlfriend didn't need to know that she spent the whole summer completely smitten over a man twice her age, but eventually they gave in. they were together just for a week, in secret and away from the prying eyes of her family. but it was enough to completely unravel her.

when he left, cherry realised that she was pregnant. too ashamed to tell him, to ruin his life for whatever small love they'd shared. she contemplated keeping it, but knew that her life was only just beginning and so she made the hard choice on her own. never telling a soul. it bled into her art, this heartbreak was hard on her on so many levels. eventually, she graduated - choosing to continue on with a masters degree at southwestern college in california.

away from school, she was producing art in most mediums. her speciality was large installations that included welding, electrical work and major construction. cherry chose a nomad lifestyle, moving place to place every year or so - never wanting to settle down too long. she was in constant search of inspiration. her latest residence is aurora bay, where she's renting out a studio space where she is creating art and creating trouble.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS:

born and raised in santa fe, new mexico but has moved from place to place after she graduated from college. never known to stay in one place for too long. ( possible connections: old friends, interstate flings, chance encounters )

is currently renting an art studio space in aurora bay where she’s making her art. she specialises in large-scale metalwork sculptures from scrap materials. to get extra money, she also teaches small art classes in her studio. ( possible connections: art buyer, art student, fellow artist )

owns an old vintage 1967 mustang that she got when she was twenty one after selling her first sculpture back when she was living in nevada. she takes great pride in it and knows a little about cars because of it. ( possible connections: motorheads, mechanic )

very much online, posting her art and occasionally some thirst traps. uses online dating apps to find dates or hook ups. ( possible connections: hinge dates, instagram followers, mutuals, art fan. )

above all, cherry loves love. with anyone. she falls head over heels time and time again so her romantic connections would be plentiful. while she’s not necessarily a relationship person, she’d definitely try and make it work with the right person. she’s a proud pansexual as well, so all romantic connections can be any gender. ( possible connections: ex-hook ups, friends with benefits, serious lovers that didn't work out )

her favorite haunts around town are the reef bar as she is a regular for an art work wine, dancing her cares and the night away at oasis nightclub (or crying in the bathroom depending on how the night is going) or at the all-nighter diner eating a vegan burger at 2am. ( possible connections: run-ins, drinking buddies, people she overshares with because she's drunk )

CURRENT CONNECTIONS:

besties with @ponderosus and @lemielewis

is getting married to @ziggykyeons if they're both single at 40

previous hookup and ex-something of @dxnielibxrra (not in game but still canon)

close friends with @lucianaxalvarez, @cricketcampbell and @esmaxdemirci

psychologically damaged by @borawinters

casually hooked up with @xlalitax

is christine daaé to @mackmontgomery's phantom of the opera, also her tattoo artist

roommates with @erickxng in seabrook quarter

close friends with @finn-brooks and @javicastillo

always talking art with @leomlarson

flirts with @pcrdita while he fixes her car

#aurorabay.intro #abortion tw #age difference tw

[alinasteelcrest]

🤥🍟🍁🎭 for all 3..? :)

For all THREE omg okay hold on let me try to remember anything about my own ocs

Thank you for the ask :D!

(OC Emoji Asks)

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

Alina is... decent at it. She gets better after she starts hanging out with Ydris. King of making people manipulative just like he is ig 😭

Shoji's good at lying, but he doesn't do it often because he would rather be ""brutally honest"" (aka an asshole). He's capable of straight-facing his way through basically anything.

Wynn SUCKS AT LYING. He gets shifty and won't make eye contact and it's harder to find the right words. That kid will incriminate himself halfway through

He's just little, though, so honestly it's good that he's a bad liar LMAO

🍟 FRIES - do they order food often? or they prefer to cook their own food?

Well two of them are horses so they kind of eat whatever's offered to them DKNSBSAHJH

Alina really likes cooking, she mostly prefers to just make things for herself, but she's also definitely not against having something delivered if she's had a long day or really particularly wants something.

Wynn is a garbage disposal he is NOT picky, but he does get excited when offered like,,, part of whatever Alina gets for herself, because it doesn't happen suuuuper often so it's more fun.

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - what is their favourite season? why?

Alina is so winter-coded omg, silver everything, sweaters and scarves, hot drinks and comfy blankets, etc etc. Even her guardian horse is white and blue!! Summer is a CLOSE second though, she likes the beach and her freckles show and her birthday is in August...

Shoji's a bit more complicated to me because like,,, his birthday is in February and he does like getting to hang out in front of the fire when it's cold, but Alina's birthday is in summer + he really loves the sun. But then there's also? his wife and kid are both spring-enjoyers which means he's legally obligated to also like spring. If I Absolutely Had To Pick, I'd say summer. 🤔

Wynn likes fall! The colours change and there's all sorts of fun seasonal treats and he looooves Halloween. He managed to convince Alina to take him to Galloper's Keep last October and had the time of his life. (GIRL WHAT!! GET HIM OUT OF THERE)

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Alina's polite with strangers and polite in that... sly "I'm-better-than-you" way with people she doesn't like. She's slightly distant with her parents (It's been... a while since they saw each other irl :( She just isn't willing to leave Jorvik for extended periods of time), so I would almost put them in the 'strangers' category with how she acts around her family? Not to mention she grew up in an environment that taught her not to reveal how she's feeling.

With her friends, it depends on how close they are. She's kind of. anxious. a lot. So unless they're really close, she might be a little reserved. If she's close friends, besties, ride-or-die with someone, then she'll come out of her shell. With her horses she's her truest self, willing to be silly and (god forbid) even willing to show when she's upset about something.

Shoji is a mean bitch to Everyone. He was even like that towards Alina when they first met. He will continue to be like that to everyone that isn't currently Living In His House(/Stable).

As for those he lives with... Well. It's like a completely different person. No harsh words or sarcasm or insults. He's someone for Alina to confide in and get advice from, he's the Best Dad Ever (or he's doing his best), he straight-up down bad for Thunder even after all this time being horsie-married. Dare I say it... he's a bit of a sweetheart.

Wynn's just cheerful and excited to meet basically everyone. He'll go up to strangers and try to be their best friend (even if they can't understand him). If there's more than one stranger at a time, though, then he gets shy.

#ahhh this got kinda long. that's okay- it was really fun. thanks again for asking !!!! #sso oc #ask game #alina #shoji #wynn

[ofhaunts]

             welcome  to  antioch,  karo  saelim!  local  sources  report  that  you've  been  in  town  for  32  years  and  are  known  to  be  wise  yet  inhibited.  others  have  dredged  up  rumours  that  you're  involved  in  the  vampire  of  antioch  as  nora  winters'  roommate,  but  most  know  you  for  your  work  as  a  waitress  at  blue  moon  diner.  we'll  see  you  around  town  soon!   ›   pinterest.

𝐢.  𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬.

playlist.  tasks.  headcanons.  introspection.  visuals.  edits.  wanted.  memes.  honesty  hours.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬.

brooklyn,  blackwood  institute  trilogy  ( books ).  misaki,  maid  sama  ( anime/manga ).  scarlett,  the  blood  we  crave  duet  ( books ).  moonyoung,  it's  okay  not  to  be  okay  ( kdrama ).

𝐢𝐢𝐢.  𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥.

character  name:  karo  saelim.   nickname(s):  ro,  kar.   faceclaim:  davika  hoorne.   birthday:  20  october  1990.   age:  thirty3.   place  of  birth:  spokane,  washington  &  moved  to  antioch  when  she  was  one  after  her  dad  got  a  job  offer.   zodiac:  libra  ( western ),  metal  horse  ( chinese ).   mbti:  istj-t,  the  logistician.   moral  alignment:  true  neutral.   enneagram:  type  8,  the  challenger.   occupation:  waitress.   place  of  work:  blue  moon  diner.   subplot  affiliation:  the  vampire  of  antioch  as  nora  winters'  roommate.   three  positive  traits:  wise,  independent,  honourable.   three  negative  traits:  inhibited,  obsessive,  self-indulgent.   languages:  english,  thai,  french,  and  american  sign  language.   love  language:  acts  of  service  is  how  she  likes  showing  love,  physical  touch  is  how  she  likes  receiving  love.   sexuality:  pansexual  /  pan  +  demiromantic.   education:   bachelors  of  science  in  neuroscience.   piercings:  six  on  each  ear,  various  placements.   tattoos:  "amor"  on  outer  left  hand,  "soif  de  vivre"  ( french  for  thirst  for  life)  in  red  script  along  her  right  trap,  a  floral  +  bee  design  on  her  sternum,  single  line  brain  with  flowers  design  above  left  elbow  for  her  father,  a  wishbone  on  outer  right  wrist  that  she  got  with  nora.

𝐢𝐯.  𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

tw:  brief  mentions/hints  of  illness,  parental  death,  addiction,  abuse,  drunk  driving,  car  accident.

raised  by  a  single  dad  who  was  lost  to  an  illness  when  karo  was  eleven.  when  her  mother  was  informed  of  the  loss  ( and  the  life  insurance  payout ),  she  came  back  to  antioch  to  care  for  her  despite  the  pair  having  never  met  before. unfortunately  for  karo,  the  love  of  her  father's  life  wasn't  the  woman  he  thought  she  was.  she  had  a  temper,  sought  comfort  at  the  bottom  of  a  bottle,  and  gambled  money  as  if  it  grew  on  trees.  every  cent  lost  was  karo's  fault,  and  she  made  sure  her  daughter  knew  it,  leaving  behind  bruises  karo  explained  away  as  evidence  of  her  clumsiness.   after  a  particularly  strange  win---strange  because  it  was  something  her  mother  never  did---when  karo  was  in  her  junior  year  of  high  school,  she  decided  to  pick  her  daughter  up  from  her  study  group  to  "celebrate".  despite  the  alcohol  pervading  the  cab,  she  didn't  wish  to  anger  her  mother.  not  when  this  was  the  first  time  she'd  ever  smiled  at  her. their  trip  was  cut  short,  resulting  in  karo  outliving  both  of  her  parents,  though  she  didn't  walk  away  from  the  accident  unscathed.  partial  sensorineural  hearing  loss  in  her  right  ear,  the  doctor  said,  all  thanks  to  the  airbags. after  finally  given  the  okay  to  return  to  "normal"  life,  karo  was  taken  in  by  a  friend's  family  so  she  didn't  need  to  spend  the  remainder  of  her  high  school  career  trying  to  adjust  in  foster  care. eventually,  she  went  on  to  get  her  bachelors  degree  in  neuroscience  from  antioch  university.  despite  having  no  desire  to  excel  or  even  make  a  career  in  the  field,  karo's  decision  was  made  solely  in  an  attempt  to  feel  closer  to  her  father  who  was  a  neurologist  before  he  got  sick.  upon  graduating  with  her  degree  at  twenty2,  karo  went  back  to  her  old  job  at  the  diner  ( one  she  quit  after  the  accident )  this  time  as  a  full-time  employee  and  she's  been  there  ever  since.

𝐯.  𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬.

regarding  her  languages,  english  and  thai  were  taught  to  her  throughout  childhood.  french  was  the  foreign  language  she  chose  to  learn  in  school.  asl  is  something  she  learned  after  the  accident. while  her  hearing  loss  is  partial,  it  usually  gives  her  the  most  trouble  when  there's  too  much  background  noise  or  if  the  voice/information  is  coming  through  a  speaker  ( e.g.,  a  mobile  device,  a  microphone,  etc. ).  this  is  why  she  does  her  best  to  avoid  crowds  and  prefers  that  you  text  her,  or  speak  to  her  in  person  if  necessary. has  never  had  a  single  drop  of  alcohol  and  refuses  to  ever  try  it.  she  doesn't  even  like  taking  simple  over  the  counter  pain  meds  for  headaches,  because  of  her  mother's  history. big  reader.  will  read  just  about  anything,  but  she's  a  lover  of  poetry,  the  classics,  and  anything  philosophical. one  of  her  special  interests  is  all  things  flowers.  she  knows  what  every  single  one  of  them  means,  how  to  care  for  them,  etc.  seriously,  she  will  completely  geek  out  if  you  let  her  so  pls  don't. i  imagine  her  signature  scent  to  be  a  lot  like  sandalsun  by  hermetica  paris  ( think  a  warm  woodsy  scent  with  hazelnut  and  vanilla ),  and  because  she  also  follows  a  lot  of  the  same  notes  with  her  body  care  products,  even  the  smell  of  the  diner  can't  win. she's  very  quiet,  the  way  she  walks,  talks,  lives,  etc.  would  be  exceptionally  skilled  at  sneaking  up  on  nearly  anyone  if  her  scent  didn't  give  her  away. has  a  brown  burmese  cat  named  sun  ( her  full  name  is  sunstra,  but  karo  only  calls  her  that  when  she's  in  trouble ).  at  first,  she  tried  living  alone  after  nora's  murder,  but  she  couldn't  stand  the  empty  place  anymore  and  getting  a  new  roomie  felt  as  if  she  were  replacing  nora,  so  she  compromised  and  got  a  kitten. has  a  very  strong  moral  compass  for  herself,  though  it  may  not  always  align  with  what  is  considered  socially  "normal".  she  doesn't  try  to  push  her  ideals  or  make  someone  feel  like  they're  wrong  for  any  belief  or  opinion  they  may  have  on  something,  though  she  won't  hesitate  to  share  her  own  stance. she  doesn't  lie.  like..  ever.  sure,  she  has  no  problem  telling  you  that  she  doesn't  want  to  share  something  with  you  or  that  it's  none  of  your  business,  she  may  evade  divulging  any  information  entirely,  but  she  doesn't  lie.  this  is  something  she  takes  very  seriously,  and  one  way  of  getting  on  her  bad  side  is  to  lie  to  her.  also,  she  can  hold  a  grudge  like  no  other  so  if  you  end  up  on  her  bad  side,  good  luck  ever  getting  off  of  it. hasn't  shed  a  single  tear  since  her  father's  death.  not  from  sadness,  not  from  anger,  not  from  pain,  not  from  happiness.  nothing.  not  to  say  she  doesn't  feel  those  emotions,  because  she  most  certainly  does,  she  just...  can't  seem  to  cry. lol  vulnerability  is  hard.  pls  don't  ask  her  to  do  it.  i  mean,  she's  great  at  making  you  feel  like  you're  close,  but  know  that  unless  you're  extra,  extra  special,  you're  really  just  out  of  arms  reach  emotionally  to  her. at  work,  she's  a  lot  like  bartenders  are,  like  in  terms  of  being  good  conversation  partners  /  advice  givers,  except  she  does  it  while  she  feeds  you  pancakes  instead  of  drinks. speaking  of  pancakes,  she's  a  phenomenal  cook.  this,  along  with  getting  you  flowers,  are  her  favourite  ways  to  show  her  affection.

𝐯𝐢. 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

first  love  /  ex.  this  is  the  first  person  she  truly  let  in  and  by  golly  gosh  did  she  fall  hard.  all  details  can  be  discussed,  especially  considering  this  is  extremely  open.  all  i  can  promise  is  lots  of  angst.  open  to  anyone  30-38. childhood  bestie.  they  were  pratically  attached  at  the  hip  since  diaper  /  toddler  days,  but  when  karo's  father  died,  she  pulled  away  from  everyone  and  retreated  into  herself,  distracting  herself  with  school.  when  her  mother  was  finally  added  to  the  picture,  i  imagine  she  may  have  even  started  to  lash  out  a  bit  to  push  this  person  even  further  away.  she's  always  regretted  it,  but  given  how  much  time  has  passed,  she  doesn't  know  how  to  reconcile.  she's  also  really  embarrassed,  both  about  her  life  story  and  her  actions  towards  this  person,  so  she's  still...  not  that nice.  open  to  anyone  30-36,  raised  in  antioch. person  ( +  their  family )  who  who  took  her  in.  they  knew  each  other  from  school  and,  whether  it  was  through  the  grapevine  or  from  karo  herself,  they  heard  about  karo's  situation  and  convinced  their  adult(s)  to  let  her  stay  with  them  for  the  remainder  of  her  junior  year  +  her  senior  year  for  whatever  reason.  this  can  be  either  a  positive  or  negative  connection,  i  have  no  preference.  open  to  anyone  31-34,  raised  in  antioch.   parental  figures.  this  is  pretty  self  explanatory.  she's  missed  her  father  immensely  since  his  passing  and  she's  never  known  the  love  of  a  mother.  these  are  people  she  looks  to  for  parental  advice  /  comfort.  open  to  anyone  45+.

#🥞． 𝖲𝖠𝖤𝖫𝖨𝖬 ， 𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒐 ↺ introduction. #chronicletask #i didnt reread a lick of this and idk why its so long dONT judge me. #also if u see any mistakes no u dont <3

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Hamilton Warren Amphitheater, Sedona, Arizona, October 22, 1994

One of the many surprises on Neil Young's recent Coastal Tour was the inclusion of several rarely played tunes from 1994's Sleeps With Angels. A great record, if I do say so myself — and a little bit of an outlier in the Crazy Horse saga. Unlike many other Horse-backed LPs, Neil didn't take the band out on the road for an epic tour to support Angels. In 1994, he only played a smattering of benefits — Farm Aid, The Bridge and finally, this show out amidst the red rocks in Sedona in support of the Verde Valley Sanctuary.

The set, captured here on a stellar audience tape, gives us a tantalizing glimpse of what a Sleeps With Angels tour might've been like; something a bit more varied and moodier than the Weld and Year of the Horse trips, mixing full-band acoustic performances with passionate electric journeys. Neil and the Horse open with a torrential Arc-like barrage of feedback, only to slip into the delicate "My Heart," followed by more new material: an ominous "Prime of Life" the "Driveby" dirge and a stormy "Sleeps With Angels."

It all sounds killer, the quartet digging deep, showcasing a more subtle and sensitive side of their sound. A few faves from the back catalog are brought out — a roaring "Hey Hey My My" and a particularly mournful "Cortez The Killer" (FYI: On the latter, instead of "palace in the sun" Neil sings at one point about an "island in the sun," which is the name of a Trans-era "lost" album slated for Archives Vol. 3. INTERESTING.) The highlight, however, is what I believe to be the very best performance of "Change Your Mind," which stretches out to nearly 20 minutes and features some truly haunting guitar work from Neil. A Crazy Horse epic that earns its place alongside the rest of the classics. Destroying you, embracing you, revealing you.

#neil young and crazy horse

[amaralionelli]

'His name was Tobias James Barton, born the 31st day of October in the year of 1830. All Hallows Eve as it was. He was turning 13 this year, though he couldn't for the life of him recall a single thing from before he was 12 years of age. '

Tobias, or Tobi as he prefers to be called, is the glue that holds the story together. Together with his friends, both old and new, he fights evil creatures and solves curioius mysteries from the foggy lands of Europe, to the Eastern sea, and even the new world of America. He can be naively blunt as well as mischievous. At almost 13 years old, he's a skilled fighter that battles on instinct and decent detective when he feels like it. He's unsure where he learned this skill, but it does him well, so he doesn't really care about the 'how'.

Tobi lives together with Yue, his benefactor, who took him in after the accidental death of his family just about a year ago. That's what Yue had told him, at least.

Tobi loves playing out in the countryside. He enjoys the company of animals, particularly horses, and running through the muddy dirt roads that pave the villages. His dislikes consist of practicing piano, Yue's homeschooling classes, and black tea.

#meet the character monday #I'm a day late #writeblr #The Whimsical World of Tobias James Barton

[voidspacecowboy]

15 Questions + 15 Friends

Thanks @shinraalpha for the tag :)

Are you named after anyone?

According to my mum, I share a name with a character in an Australian soap opera, who she thought was cool and took no shit and was the type of person she wanted her daughter to grow up to be. (Which is good, because if my dad had had his way I'd have been named Siobhan, after Siobhan Fahey from Bananarama)

When was the last time you cried?

It's actually been like three whole days! Which is my longest streak of not-crying so far in 2024. It's a real bad time rn folks.

Do you have kids?

God no. Respect to those who do but it is literally my worst nightmare

What sports do you play/have you played?

I ride horses, and I used to be a total jock in school (before all the chronic illnesses happened). I played tennis, rounders, hockey, netball, football, occasionally cricket when the mood arose. I also rock climb sometimes, though arguably that's mostly to hang out with friends. I wish I had the capacity to play more sports, but the universe said no

Do you use sarcasm?

Arguably I don't use anything but

What is the first thing you notice about people?

It varies, but I'm somewhat faceblind and also not a particularly observant person, so usually just whatever is most distinctive - a cool hat, snazzy glasses, an interesting voice, fun hair.

What's your eye color?

Green, that can look grey in some lights and then REALLY green in others.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm a sucker for a happy ending and I'm not sorry

Any talents?

Arguably I'm a talented writer, though I am less convinced by that with every passing month ;_____; I'm also pretty decent with horses. I probably have other talents, but mostly I'm too tired to cultivate any of them these days.

Where were you born?

This feels like a data-mining question. But I have zero emotional attachment to the city I was born in, and have only visited a handful of times.

What are your hobbies?

Does an ongoing existential crisis count as a hobby? Other than that, horses, reading, writing, watching a lot of Youtube and TV. I'm learning to crochet right now which is pretty fun, and I used to cosplay, though I haven't in a few years and I miss sewing, so I'd like to get back into making clothes somehow.

Do you have any pets

Not currently. Our family dog passed back in October, and we aren't quite ready for a new one yet. But it is my dream to have an absolute menagerie one day.

How tall are you?

5ft6 or thereabouts

Favorite subject in school?

I was a maths/physics nerd in school, though I wasn't really 'in school' for most of my school career.

Dream job?

I have a thousand dream jobs for a thousand opportunities I never took, but right now my dream job would be for someone to pay me so much money to write my silly little stories that I never need to worry about whether I can support myself without the help of my parents. Or to live in a society that supports people regardless of their contribution to this capitalist hellhole we reside in. Just let me sleep I'm so tired.

Tagging?

@youreonmyrunway, @aceraleigh, @mitchway, @galadriel1010, anyone else who wants to answer questions, go nuts <3

#tag game #personal

[goldenngore]

layer 001 : the outside.

name: loras tyrell

eye colour: molten gold

hair style & colour: mid back length, loose curls, mid brown shade.

height: 6ft as of twow.

clothing style: typically wears various shades of green, but sea green is particularly his shade with some gold thread decal that is usually more leaf than flowers in pattern. his personal arms are often the only flower decal he wears aka three golden roses. But he wears a lot of silk and thin cottons since the reach has a very warm climate, and he often forgoes jackets etc. His personal style is actually quite casual compared with expectation. He dislikes stuffy movement limiting clothing...like the kingsguard uniform.

layer 002 : the inside.

fears: failing those he loves, losing those he loves, not having a good death, being without love, losing himself, not leaving a legacy of sorts, not being the best... aka more than I thought.

guilty pleasure: none. he doesn't believe in guilty pleasure, only pleasure. tis the reach way.

biggest pet peeve: stupid people.

ambitions for the future: killing stannis. 🤷‍♀️

layer 003 : thoughts.

first thoughts waking up: I'm still alive. I hate it here ( kings landing ). I wonder how my brothers are.

what they think about most: staying alive aka avoiding Cersei.

what they think about before bed: I'm still alive. I hate it here ( kings landing ). I wonder how my brothers are.

what they think their best quality is: his quick thinking when danger is abound, his sword arm and his undying loyalty.

layer 004 : what's better?

single or group dates: single (more intimate that way!)

to be loved or respected: loved and respected.

beauty or brains: beauty and brains to a degree.

dogs or cats: cats.

layer 005 : do they …?

lie: not usually, no. Loras tends to be brutally honest. Just not in kings landing. He lies to survive there.

believe in themselves: Yes. He's always been his own best advocate.

believe in love: forever and always.

want someone: yes.

layer 006 : have they ever …?

been on stage: yes! If tourney's count...

changed who they were to fit in: yes, but not voluntarily. once again, it's to survive kings landing.

layer 007 : favorites.

favourite colour: sea green.

favourite animal: cat or horses.

favourite book: non applicable lol

favourite game: come into my castle.

layer 008 : age.

day their next birthday will be: october 31st

how old will they be: 21

layer 009 : finish the sentence.

i love: love

i feel: guilt

i hide: myself

i miss: renly

i wish: for the past

#about. 🗡️ #headcanon. 🗡️ #ooc: back on sad boy shit. what's new? ( 🌱🌹🥀 )