#through the dappled dell

[p-isforpoetry]

"This Lime-tree Bower my Prison" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (read by Sir Ian McKellen)

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock Flings arching like a bridge;—that branchless ash, Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge Of the blue clay-stone.

                                          Now, my friends emerge

Beneath the wide wide Heaven—and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence.

                                                       A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

Source: The Poetry of Coleridge, 2006

#This Lime-tree Bower my Prison #Samuel Taylor Coleridge #Coleridge #Sir Ian McKellen #Ian McKellen #poem #poetry #audio

[libidomechanica]

Of olives in Air

Way, then he end what hovering jest.     Sorrow not to his gate. Wholly, but that and let the Mark:     for by the nape guess his foresee, makes her picture, I ween,     has exercis’d the night: but those royal curious Trophies     from a sip of one

by Heav’n Submitted, other cry.     If thou art, I shure in the Euxine, and heavnly Justice     draw? Cling up from time doth seeing made for thy voices chearful     tone, at once are hollow drum, who speak for the turn not—     no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Her eyes, and love the first rose i’     th’ bud, yet lost the diamonds possessors through the crag     to generous tasks of that made? Effect would dance, how fair,     my soul of Angels will strew within a day were he does     coming from vermeil lips?

A quantity of love let’s like     tower of care, too coarse to lodge in hall, desist not youth     of late beam that’s meant; my great dreamlight was yet it content,     a great? So grace the impotence so well, who gave his Casket     of blue crab from ruin

each she told that we may gnaw     Tantallan, a chiel sae clever: this lethargy! Higher     softly, Arethusa, peerless spot, when in another     Count you are as before break her than a man, ere a walk     your Doves, and the last; and

traps; and the Day, misguide the Jews,     those Eyes had passions of the more, and conscious was turning     Crouds can never call, oh blind and stemmerring gainst him Kings     and bidder. A press-gang creative her call meet to pay     the Vapours fresh Amaryllis,

that caressed gates I sing     that keep o Shadows dappled o’er man so various Off’ring     fate! Foreign University for many years silence     of all, but be goods. Once more that is the careless raise     a gleam of another

stands are such as other without     hard by, on either station— they wink with side-faced; and and     purplish, vermilion-tail’d, thoughts of his delicatest lace     which from hills I would takes I heare too was cajoled. Has our     looking at the rocks, so

long as the kings from home; her hand     in such a number.— Belinda smiling wind; and Tweezers,     hear away. She knew not then he tore than we hither sweeter     thrust a dream before desolate. But if they whose Throne,     not one, and saw more sugar’d

of you.—So killingness? His     soul, a light, that I have ill within her amorous breasts     are like moderate betweene my heart beat time, he pact a     Jury of Civil, that, if there he compromise bright, the     Rabble her of the Nymph

in the things for Parents to give     here shall be mine own love! A goat stirs with all the Waves were     left her faire Queen of all her hear with so red, and then by     whom every Sheckle while faint damask mouthed, This I know how     near, his please, no Rechabite

moderate so long, he tripped     up and deep, while we slumber did he did speeds. Gold dome,     whatever past the Joyfully gave, I will slide into his     careless his brow, I seem unholy, so long Chin prove, to     the hard gain’d, he sees her

Eyes of the Eternal day over     alone, and of David, undistinguish. Oh blind of     a Pair of mine the person feel, by its blood was Ariel     sought but for think with straggling sun I find, I say,     unlocking earth the must never

thing that nurse to tears are sailing     on one but quicken in the pierce of god look for     Nutriment: why must, and thyself corrupting, Rhiming, Drinking     the old Man cease—Belinda! Do inuite a maid, and I     seek reclined quite in any

kind. Ay, ’ quoth he, They ’ve     takes long and take thought you could glide to keep of the earth’s deep     Bosphorus, as to me here is crowns to the Skies. My loves;     never knows nor could found with his soul of the same treached     the pitying mans believe,

we dances of than Pow’r is     still, doth flow out. With feverous was still he found her breath     once more sweet tales? As the wane of the ground, a power left     espy; and woes for the side outlet, fathomless. Not a     reward him, the Waves were

holly! Beloved put the Presence     hear the last from ebon streamlet o’er young, its summer     time passing to the green, not one, and green dell be paid price     above they wanted our rhymes; and a drag-chain. And be clean     on the lily hand clean;

unbrib’d and offices, cool was     Nimrod’s hunting Oyle had give aloud. The unswept down     sweets alang to deck with the scent their Fate; whose dead, confusion     search after me with bugs is such, whose lips did the stand,     and the Lord knows nor can

howl incessant first nipping him     from his a Wine there a meteor-star, and made a sister     of the Land; in this Dian’s ear, now almost affection     to the specks the first waste then he to help us; slaves on     his bill of dark old neutral

person appear from this our     fair? Your judgment of Druids was they view which, well as dare     to see yet I am weary, sir, she spake fair eyes, and     then being quiet Then the World is stay’d, my father!     White mule she smiles; delight.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #188 texts #ballad

[translucentenvelope]

This Lime Tree Bower My Prison

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o’erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock Flings arching like a bridge;—that branchless ash, Unsunn’d and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne’er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, Fann’d by the water-fall! and there my friends Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge Of the blue clay-stone.

Now, my friends emerge Beneath the wide wide Heaven—and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And hunger’d after Nature, many a year, In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence.

A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark’d Much that has sooth’d me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch’d Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov’d to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting’d, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne’er deserts the wise and pure; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes ’Tis well to be bereft of promis’d good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path across the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross’d the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood’st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o’er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In July 1797, the young writer Charles Lamb came to the area on a short vacation and stayed with the Coleridges. Charles is the dedicatee of “This Lime-tree Bower,” in which Coleridge imagines his friends going out on a walk without him, over a heath, into a wood, and then out onto meadows with a view of the sea. Meanwhile, the poet, confined at home, contemplates the things in front of him: a leaf, a shadow, the way the darkness of ivy makes an elm tree’s branches look lighter as twilight deepens. (themorgan.org)

#poetry #hope

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (107/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

Evan couldn’t sleep.

Staring up at his ceiling, he heaved a huge sigh. He couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t sleep. The threat of Doloran making his move loomed large overhead, yes, but it was a distant threat, one that Evan truly couldn’t do a thing about as things were. It shouldn’t have been enough to keep him awake. He ran through his mental list of worries. Evermore? Safe. Covered in yet more snow, but safe. His people were provided for and wanted for nothing. The other four nations? Dell was a bit of a mess still, but they were coming around. They would pull through.

His family? All safe and accounted for, at least physically healed from their ordeal in Dell after two long, sleepy days. Lofty’s snoring from his corner of the room was testament to that. His whistling snores filled the room, but they weren’t loud enough to keep him from sleeping. It wasn’t too hot, it wasn’t too cold, he wasn’t hungry or thirsty, so why couldn’t he sleep?!

Groaning into his pillow, Evan shut his eyes. Maybe if he just lay still for a while, he’d doze off.

Seconds turned into minutes. He grew too impatient to wait any longer and sat up. This wasn’t working. Maybe a walk would do him some good?

Throwing back the thick coverlet, Evan slipped out of bed. The carpets were chilled beneath his bare feet, dappled moonlight slipping through the gap between the curtains and the lightly falling snow outside his window. Padding to the window, he peered out at his city. Everything was calm and peaceful, the roads covered in a thin blanket of white. There was nothing amiss, and yet…

He shook his head. Padding the few steps over to his Kingmaker, he put a hand on Lofty’s side.

“Lofty.” No response. He shook him. “Lofty!”

“Hm?” Sensing no distress in their bond, Lofty cracked open a single, sleepy eye. “Evan? Whassamatter…?”

“I can’t sleep,” He explained, “I’m going for a walk. Do you mind if I bring you with me?”

Lofty waved an arm through the air. “Sure, sure…can sleep through anythin’, sunshine…take youer time…”

He was asleep again by the time Evan picked him up, holding him to his chest like a stuffed toy. Evan smiled a little, amused, and quietly opened his door.

The hall was quiet. Nella’s snoring could be heard through her door across the hall, but the room just down the hall from his was quiet. Evan tilted his head, ears pricked forward. It took a few seconds but…there. Quiet, even breathing. Roland was sound asleep, too.

Good. He needed his rest.

Steps a little bit lighter, Evan headed down the hall and into the castle proper. It was late enough that even the hardest working staff had gone to bed, leaving the halls dimly lit and empty. The hems of his sleeping pants swished around his ankles as he walked, one foot in front of the other. He didn’t know where he was going, he was just…going. A loop or two or three around the halls would probably help him sleep.

Gosh, he hoped so.

Yawning, he slipped out of the corridors and into the throne room. Moonlight filtered through the skylight, painting the carpets and throne in shades of silvery blue and gray. Maybe he’d stop by one of the offices, see if anything needed his attention. It was a bit of a too-early start, but it couldn’t hurt anything. He kept walking, meaning to cross the throne room, only to stumble over something in his path.

“Hig!”

“Oh!”

Or rather, some one. Taking a few quick steps to avoid falling, Evan whirled back around. A shot of adrenaline pushed him out of his half-asleep state, his sharp eyes making out the sprawled form of a Higgledy on the carpet. It was Runcible! The little creature picked himself up and dusted off his front before Evan even got back to him.

“Runcible, I’m sorry,” Evan said quickly, going to a knee to be more level with him. “I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”

“Hig pig,” Runcible nodded firmly, little bobble bobbing with the motion. In the half-dark, the smear of something beside his face looked blacker than it should have. Evan snickered.

“Were you raiding the kitchen again?” He asked, and Runcible at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Honestly, where do you Higgledies put all that food?”

“Hig?” Runcible tilted his head, then patted his stomach as if to say, ”in here, of course!”.

Evan laughed quietly to himself. He opened his mouth to apologize again, to wish Runcible a good night, but before he could say either of those things, a shiver went down his spine. It wasn’t from the cold, it was different. He’d felt this before, this dread pulling at his insides.

“Hig?”

“Whassat…” Lofty stirred blearily in Evan’s arms. “…somethin’ stinks…”

Thick and cloyingly sweet. Evan’s heart began to race; with wide eyes he scanned the throne room, the three entrances, the skylight. There was no one with him, so why in the world was he able to smell such a thick Darkness? Where was it coming from?

“Hig!” Runcible suddenly shouted, leaping to stand in front of Evan. “Hig pig! Higgle!”

“Hush, little one.” A voice said. Evan had heard that voice before, too.

Evan whirled around, watching as Doloran strode out of the shadows behind a pillar. The moonlight streaming through the skylight gleamed off of the golden scales of his headdress, casting tiny rays of golden light across the room. With calm, measured steps, he walked towards Evan. Evan scrambled to his feet and stepped back; Doloran stopped in the middle of the throne room, more than a single sword’s length away.

“You are afraid.” He said, voice oddly warm.

Swallowing hard, Evan took another step back. It had been one thing to discuss talking to Doloran, to bring up the idea of reasoning with him somehow. It was another thing entirely to stand across from him, knowing just how strong he was, and have only Lofty for backup. Sensing his King’s fear, Lofty scrambled out of his arms and leapt to the floor, both tiny fists up.

“Who wouldn’t be, you flippin’ rotter? Youeve tried gettin’ into his flippin’ ‘ead!” Lofty spat, “Now back up, or I’ll clobber you into next week!”

Doloran snorted, amused. “Of that I have no doubt.” His headdress kept Evan from seeing the upper half of his face, but his smile seemed…genuine. Almost kind. “I would extend an apology to you for my tactics. I did not know how far you would be willing to go. I see now that acting as such was wrong of me.” He pressed a hand to his heart and bowed. “My sincerest apologies, King Evan.”

“I.” Evan swallowed hard. He couldn’t feel anything behind those words, no press against his bond-space, no attempt to sway him in any direction, but…he didn’t want to accept the apology. Not really. It sat heavy in his gut, maybe honest but nowhere near enough, and he hated that it wasn’t enough. He forced himself to breathe. “Thank you. What is it that you have come to speak with me about?”

“I have been watching over you and yours for some time now,” Doloran began, “You have created a beautiful kingdom, where all who call it home may live in peace.” He looked around the throne room. “It would pain me to see any of this come to harm.”

“Then maybe don’t go harmin’ it!” Lofty shook a fist, “Bugger off this plan o’youers and let the rest of us in peace, yeah?”

“Hush, Lofty,” Evan said quietly, taking one step forward to stand beside rather than behind his Kingmaker. Lofty’s growl rattled through his ankle and their bond. Holding his head high, Evan tried his best to look Doloran in the eye. “Are you offering to leave us be?”

“I am. You need only stand aside and allow me to complete my plan. Do so, and this city and her people shall be left untouched by what is to come.”

Stand aside. Let it happen. Lofty’s anger was a note of pure light, singing through Evan’s veins. Though he already knew what to do, he drew strength from that anger and took a deep breath.

“Thank you for your offer, Doloran, but…I am sorry.” He said. “I cannot accept it. I cannot—Evermore cannot stand idly by while others are hurt. No matter how pure your intentions, or what you’re trying to do…”

Roland’s words came echoing back to him.

He told me that he was trying to restore Allegoria, and everyone we’d lost…

“Whether it be restoring your nation or your people, we cannot just stand by and let you do it like this. Not after all the pain you have caused.” He shook his head. “So please, stop this. Before anyone else gets hurt. Before you fall any further into the Darkness than you already have!”

Doloran didn’t seem to hear that last part. He leaned his head back, smile vanishing.

“And what would you have me do instead? Abandon my people and nation to obscurity? Turn my back on my Kingmaker, though she has never abandoned me no matter the time and distance between us?”

She? The Horned One was a shescowled at him.

“I see. So, that is your decision, then? What if I were to tell you that I would ensure Roland could remain here with you?”

Evan’s heart slammed to a halt. Lofty reached through their bond, but he seemed so far away now. Evan didn’t take his eyes off of Doloran.

“Y-you—what?”

“Did you never stop to wonder what sort of magic it was that first brought Roland to this world?” Doloran asked, “What sort of power it would take to call a soul from their home to an entirely different realm?”

“I.” Evan frowned. What sort of power? There had been a spell for it once, hadn’t there? Any Witch or Wizard capable of casting it could have crossed between the worlds but…no one had seen that spell since the time of Sage Oliver. There were no more Witches or Wizards or Sages capable of casting Gateway. What did that leave? “…I don’t know. Something very powerful, but, what could…”

He stopped, looking at Lofty, who looked back up at him with a stern scowl on his face. He, too, had appeared from nowhere. The other four had dragged them to other dimensions to do battle. Kingmakers could cross dimensions. Slowly, he looked back to Doloran.

“A Kingmaker. The Horned One.”

Doloran smiled. That smile was familiar, warm and proud, but on his face it was fake in all the wrong ways. It didn’t belong on his face!

“Clever boy. Yes,” Doloran nodded, “It was the power of the Horned One that brought him here, and its magics that bind him to this realm. So long as that magic remains strong, nothing can return him to whence he came. Should the magic fade…”

“He…goes back.” Evan swallowed hard. His fists clenched. “But—the Horned One’s magics are strong, aren’t they? They already brought him here!”

“They are, and they did.” Doloran said, “But the Horned One has been locked away in another dimension for three thousand years, and the rift between it and this world has been steadily closing ever since. Very soon it shall be closed forever, and when that happens, nothing shall cross between them. Not even the magic required to keep him here.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Evan understood exactly what he meant. Stand aside, allow Doloran to succeed, and Evermore would be left alone. Roland would be able to stay. Fight, bring a stop to all of this or even delay it for too long, and the city would suffer.

Roland would return to his world.

“I…I…”

“Now you know the truth,” Doloran spread a hand. “So I will ask you again, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Will you stand aside? Or will you stand in my way and lose everything you hold dear?”

“I—”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Roland’s voice interrupted, “Everywhere you go, you’re always manipulating people, always forcing them into decisions they’d never make on their own.”

Doloran and Evan both turned. Roland, a deep frown on his face, was walking out of the corridor that led back to his room, sword in hand and Tove bristling on his shoulder. The dark fabric of his dressing gown shifted around his ankles with every step he took. Doloran smiled.

“I speak only the truth. You know this.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” Roland said firmly. He looked at Evan. “You good?”

No. Not at all. Evan forced himself to nod, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Yes,” he lied, stomach aching. Lofty scoffed and it took effort to not step back behind Roland as he came up to stand beside them. “I’m alright.”

“Good.” Roland nodded. “The others will be here soon.” He turned to Doloran. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to listen to reason and put an end to all of this now?”

Doloran didn’t answer. He didn’t have to answer. Roland sighed heavily.

“Alright then. No one can say we didn’t try.” Slipping into his stance, Roland held his head up high. “Last chance. You can either stand down or get put down.”

“You believe that you stand a chance against me?” Doloran snorted in amusement. “I thought you too wise to be such a fool, Roland. Clearly I was mistaken, but very well. I see it will take more than words to convince you.”

Doloran took a deep breath. Evan called his sword to his hand as Darkness crackled around Doloran’s feet, tendrils writhing up around his legs, crawling up his body like snakes to gather in his hands. In a flash of dark power, his staff took shape. More Darkness flared around his fingers as a fierce, magical wind began to blow through the room, tugging at hair and robes alike.

“Let us see if you have the strength to match your convictions!”

Almost too quick to see, Doloran swung his staff. Tove cried out a warning, too close to use his powers. With no time to dodge Evan and Roland both brought up their swords; the clang of metal against metal filled the air, sparks drifting from where they were locked together. Doloran sneered at them, a single fang visible in the curl of his lip. Evan swallowed hard, steeling himself. He hadn’t wanted this, but if there was no other choice, then.

Then, fine. He would fight.

“Lofty!”

“Abra-flippin’-dabra!” Came Lofty’s reply, a huge burst of light turning night to day. Doloran stumbled back, stunned, but Roland had been more prepared. He leapt after his Soul Mate, chasing him back with a swing of his sword. Evan slid in from another angle, pressing the attack, pushing Doloran back and then—

“Down!”

Nella!

Evan threw himself aside, rolling out of the way as Nella came from behind, pivoting on one heel and slamming her other foot clean into the side of Doloran’s head. He and Roland both stumbled back, Roland catching himself on a nearby pillar and Doloran almost falling to the ground before he vanished in a wash of shadow. Though they both glanced at Roland worriedly, Evan and Nella both slipped into their stances and held their ground.

“Evan! Roland!”

The others as well! Relief sang through Evan’s veins as the others, their own weapons in hand, appeared from behind, running from the other corridor. Runcible clung to Batu’s shoulder with both tiny hands, cape streaming behind him. He’d woken the others!

There was no time to talk. Everyone took their stances, slipping into a semi-circle around Doloran as he reappeared in another wash of shadow and sick-sweet air. He looked from head to head, hands still crackling with magic. Everyone else stared back at him, determination written plain across their faces. Rubbing the back of one hand across his jaw, Roland narrowed his eyes.

“Enough, Doloran,” He said, “Put your weapon down. Let’s talk this over—we can find another way to restore Allegoria. One that doesn’t involve—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

“No,” Doloran interrupted, “I have made my choice, and I see now that you have as well.” Darkness flared to life around his heels, flooding the room with sick-sweet air. The shadows all around them warped and twisted; Evan jumped as they rushed past him, streaming through the floor like leaves through water. “If you shall not join with me, I must banish you to a dimension when you shall not be a danger to either of us!”

Magic crackled around his hand, tiny bolts of dark lightning shooting off in all directions. The shadows writhed all around them; Leander leapt forward, spear surging ahead.

“Do not let him cast!” He shouted, “Knock him out if you must, but do not let him cast!”

The group charged forward. Doloran was forced to drop the spell and dodge out of the way of Bracken’s hammer, only to end up sandwiched between Nella and Batu. They swung in practiced unison, Nella’s foot and Batu’s hammer slamming into his head and middle. Doloran stumbled away.

Roland, mid-charge, just stumbled. He almost fell to his knees but managed to catch himself at the last second, Tove tumbling from his shoulder with a few sharp cries. Batu had still seen; halting his chase, he turned around.

“Roland!”

“Keep fighting!” Roland shouted back. He shook his head, face lined with pain. “Whatever happens, don’t stop!”

Evan snarled furiously, eyes burning as he joined the fray. This wasn’t fair! Why did things have to be this way?!

Slashing wildly, he forced Doloran back into Batu’s range. The big man swung his hammer with a bellow, Doloran bringing his staff up at the last second only to be caught from behind by Bracken coming in with another swing! He stumbled forward, right into the glowing magical circle of Leander’s hastily cast spell.

“You shall go no further!”

Darkness sprang up around the room, Siren’s Circle wailing Leander’s own rage into the night. Doloran, taking the full blast of the spell, nearly lost his footing. He whirled around again, snarling, and swung his staff three times in rapid succession. Darkness erupted from the glowing orbs at its top, forcing Leander to roll out of the way or be struck by the whip-like tendril. He dodged the first one, then the second, but the third came too quickly.

“Leander!” Evan shouted. Leander raised his arms in defense, but it wasn’t needed.

With a clang, the blast of Darkness slammed into Roland’s sword, held defensively in front of his chest as he stood before Leander. He stumbled back; Leander had to steady him before he shouted,

“Down!”

Bracken, having come in from behind, threw herself to the ground as Roland struck. Calling his gun to his hand he peppered Doloran with laser fire; the man dodged every shot, backing into the range of Nella’s roundhouse kick. Though he managed to duck under that as well, she chased after him with rapid slashes of her dagger. He couldn’t even get a second to cast as Tani slipped in behind Nella, jabbing her spear forward, the two of them keeping him on his toes. A snarl crossing his face, Doloran swung his staff and forced them back.

“ENOUGH!”

Magic filled the air. For half a second, the room itself seemed to glow blue with power, and then—

Water sprang from nowhere. Three massive whirling columns of the stuff erupted out of the floor, catching them all in its grasp. They barely had time to cry out, air ripped from their lungs as the whirlpools sent them spinning head over heels, whirling wildly around the throne room. Evan clutched at his throat, lungs burning; the others were shadows in the water, clutching at their throats as they whirled around without cease. Catching sight of Tani he reached out to her as they spun past one another; their fingertips touched, but the magic was too strong and they were ripped apart before they could grasp hands.

Chest burning, screaming for air, Evan clutched at his throat. His vision grayed out, threatening to go dark, and then—

It stopped. Dropped unceremoniously onto the soaking wet floor, the Cabinet lay in sopping, coughing heaps as they struggled to catch their breath. Water dripped from every surface, pooling in the carpet and the dips in the stone floor. Despite the size of the spell he had just cast, Doloran barely seemed winded.

“Is this the height of your power?” He asked the room at large, not seeming to be at all concerned as the Cabinet lurched or struggled to their feet. “This is the best you can offer?”

“Stuff it, you!” Tani spat on the floor, “How about you come up here and say that! No more magic, just—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Doloran turned on her, vanishing and reappearing so quickly Evan could barely track him. He picked up Tani by the collar of her nightgown, and when Batu roared thunderously at him to let her go, he simply turned and tossed her into her father’s chest. The two of them went down in a yelping, tumbling heap. Roland snarled.

“Doloran! Leave the kids out of this!”

“I would be glad to,” Doloran replied, and when Leander tried to sneak up on him he whirled around. Magic crackled through the air, and where Leander stood a column of ice erupted out of a puddle. Leander was trapped inside, arms crossed to shield his face. Doloran turned back to Roland. “Come with me, Roland. I will spare the others.”

“You—”

“It is a simple price to pay, is it not?” Doloran vanished as Bracken took a heavy swing at him, toying with them now. Evan picked up his sword from where it had fallen as he reappeared and added, “You said it yourself: you would give your life to keep your people from harm. Pledge your life to me, and I shall give you my oath they will be unharmed.”

Roland leaned back.

“I…” He looked around the room, hesitant. He met Evan’s eye. Evan shook his head vehemently. “I…”

“Don’t!” Lofty shouted, “Don’t trust a word outta the rotter’s mouth! He’s lyin’ to you—oi!” Lofty scrambled away from a burst of Dark Magic that scorched along his back, “See! Can’t even handle the flipping—cut that out!” He scurried into cover from another blast, panting. Evan could feel his annoyance and panic in the back of his mind. “Flippin’ rotter…”

Doloran snorted, turning away. “I offer this to you one last time, Roland,” he said. “Join me. Let us save both of our worlds.”

From where Roland was on his knees, he couldn’t see Doloran’s hand on his staff. Evan could, and he saw the dark magic crackling between his fingers. It was the same spell that Leander had interrupted the first time, the spell that he had attempted to use to banish Roland.

Evan bristled. Doloran was lying to them! He had no intention of working with Roland, he just wanted him distracted so he could get him out of the way!

“Don’t!” He yowled, pushing forward with all of his might. But there was too much throne room to cross between them, and he knew he would never make it in time. He had to do something, but what—what could he do?! Magic, untapped and unused, sung beneath his skin. Fire would be too slow, and he couldn’t make his barriers that small in so short a time. He had one option and one option only.

Reaching into the depths of his soul, he found the Kingsbond. Wordlessly, he pleaded with Lofty for all the power they could share, for one spell that would send Doloran packing.

With a burst of pride and power, Lofty gave it all to him.

Light surged through Evan’s veins, rising off his skin in misty whirls and swirls. Magic filled the air, the scent of clear-water and fresh air blasting away the sickly sweet smell of Doloran’s darkness. The once-King whirled around as Evan lunged at him, forcing his magic forward in the same instant. It erupted from his palms in a burst of light brighter than the rising sun. Untrained as he was in its use he had no power over it; there was no shape or form to the spell, it just was.

Light collided with Darkness. For the span of a heartbeat the two powers hung in the air, not touching but not repelling one another, and then—they melded. The opposing forces sucked one another in, colliding in a blast that shattered the nearest windows, shattered the ice holding Leander hostage, and sent everyone tumbling pell-mell in all directions.

Even Evan was sent flying with a shout, crashing back first into one of the pillars and having the wind knocked clean out of him for the second time in just as few minutes. He sat there, stunned and gasping, as Doloran reappeared in front of him. His robes were scorched, scales knocked from his headdress that had also nearly been knocked off his shoulders. One crimson eye glared down at him.

“I come to you offering peace,” he hissed, “And you answer me with violence. I come to you offering to save the life of one you claim to hold dear, and you throw my generosity in my face. I see now that you will not listen to reason, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum.” Darkness swirled around his hand. “If you will not choose to stand aside, you will be made to stand aside!”

Evan stared up at the spell that he had watched pull three Kingsbonds out of the very essence of their Ruler’s souls. What would happen to him, to Lofty, if that spell struck their bond? They were strong together, stronger than the other four had been at the end. Would they be ripped apart as well, or would they somehow survive this?

He didn’t want to find out.

Pushing himself to his knees, Evan made to leap out of the way, only to find that he couldn’t move! Cold slithered up his hands and knees, tendrils of Darkness holding him in place! He tried to yank himself free but he couldn’t! He was stuck! He reached for Lofty’s magic, for any Light they could gather, but he wasn’t fast enough!

Doloran’s shadow fell over him. Evan whirled his head around, staring at the face of his doom.

“EVAN!”

Seven voices cried out, but one was closer than the others. Before Evan could even react, another shadow drew near.

No. No, it wasn’t a shadow. It was the back of deep blue dressing gown, fine silks and satins black in the night.

The back of Roland’s dressing gown.

“Roland!”

What happened next happened too fast to really understand. Roland, throwing himself forward, grabbed Doloran’s wrist and pulled him off course. Doloran, going too fast to stop, was committed to his motion. Evan could only watch helplessly as, rather than bond-sever Evan and Lofty as he had intended, Doloran plunged his hand into Roland’s chest instead! For a moment, just a second, the world seemed to stop.

And then, in a cacophony of sound and motion, everything started up again. The shadows let go of Evan. The others charged towards them. Doloran stumbled back as if he himself had been struck, a deep blue sphere of light in his hand, green and gold sparks crackling down his arm. With a pained wheeze and a groan, Roland collapsed to his side and didn’t move again. Evan stared at him, wide-eyed.

“R-Roland?” his voice was nothing more than a whisper. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. He’d promised! He reached forward. Roland had landed close enough to touch, and he was still warm, but he didn’t so much as stir as Evan put a hand on his shoulder. “Roland!”

He didn’t respond as Evan shook him, soft at first and then hard enough to shake his entire body. Tiny bolts of green and gold light crackled around his heart.

“Roland!”

No answer. Evan’s heartbeat caught, stuttering out of pace. He couldn’t be—there was no way—he couldn’t be dead!

Evan jerked his head up. Doloran was still standing there, clutching at the sphere of light like it was his lifeline. He looked down at Evan. Evan snarled.

“Give it back!” He yowled, leaping over Roland’s prone form. “Give it back!”

By now the others had closed the gap. Doloran didn’t linger to fight them any longer. Sphere in hand, he disappeared in a wash of Darkness once more, taking the stench of it with him as he fled the room itself. While Batu and Nella skidded to a halt, Leander kept running. Evan whirled around and watched as Leander dropped to his knees beside Roland. He scooped him up into a half-sitting position.

“Roland!” He called, shaking him. Roland’s head lolled limply along his arm, but there was no response. Leander shook his head. His voice cracked. “Roland!”

No response. Leander gently slapped Roland’s cheek with the back of one hand.

“Roland, wake up!”

“No…” Tani whimpered, “He can’t be…tell me he’s not—”

Evan didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t have an answer for himself. Clanking footsteps yanked his attention away from the scene in front of him.

“Your Majesty!” General Gao Jia called, “Sire! Are you alright?!”

No. No, he wasn’t.

“Call for a doctor!” He yowled, “Roland’s been hurt!”

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

[desocupadolector]

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash, Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge Of the blue clay-stone.                            Now, my friends emerge Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers ! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence.                                 A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles ! when the last rook Beat its straight path across the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[thesunlounge]

Rory More - Rune for W (from Through the Dappled Dell, Sudden Hunger Records 2021)

#rory more #rune for w #anna sheard #through the dappled dell #sudden hunger records #psych folk #acid folk #jazz folk #folk jazz #60s folk #folk psychedelia #balladry #dream folk #bewitching #entrancing #acoustic guitar #drums #voice #photo by #joe saunders #polaroid #sunflowers #flower field #sky #clouds #2021 #sun lounge #octagon eyes

[cosmopoliturtle]

The Forest Mother

A series I did inspired by “Elden Ring”, Fromsoft’s enigmatic next title, believed to carry on the Soulsborne legacy. The entire family tree from Demon’s Soul to Sekiro are easily among my favourite titles in the entire medium, and have inspired my own work intensely. 

The bear and the woman are part of a 2-phase boss concept I submitted to VaatiVidya’s art contest to design a fake boss for Elden Ring. The first piece is the enemies I imagined would reside in the area the boss inhabits, but are not part of entry itself. 

I was inspired by bear worship throughout European culture, descending back to Palaeolithic times. The crux of my design is focused primarily on the pagan worship of bears in ancient Finland. 

The Journey:

You, a lone rider, braves the haunting wastes of a world left broken after a great war. Your only source of companionship is a horse you’ve ridden with for what feels like an eternity, though despite countless hardships, has remained a stalwart friend. The land you roam together has been claimed by beasts who hunt upon old battlegrounds, and husks of lost souls left to sleep in beds of soot and ash in forgotten ruins. Howling, frigid winds echo between creaking trees, and combined with the beat of hooves, provides a dull but eerie rhythm to the empty roads you travel. What almost looks like a dream phasing into reality is a far-off forest bathed in rays from the Sun, where the clouds allow for dappled light instead of an intense shroud above. As you approach, the trees slowly become more vibrant and lush, the flora sparkling with an emerald sheen as dew drops and a constant, light rain provide them with an ethereal lustre.

The deeper you venture, you begin to find surprising signs of life. Tents of animal hide, wooden totems, and clean cut stone altars create a makeshift village within the dells of the forest. Aside from the occasional fresh deer kill laying upon tables and animal skulls hanging from trees, there are few signs of anything insidious happening. The people who live here sing, pray, and dance together, or hold processions led by a wise-woman, who guides them around the forest. They are all dressed from head to toe in simple, white garments with a few accents of bright colour. They look nothing like the depraved wild men or the harrowed warriors you have battled with before, and they are somewhat ghostly and meek in appearance, most of them stopping what they are doing to shrink away or cower at the sight of you. Some lunge out unceremoniously with knives or spears, trying to get you to turn back, but they are easily felled, their cloth garments not meant for battle. The greatest threats here are the crowds led by the wise-women, who are emboldened by her presence and arcane words. Among the feeble worshippers are occasionally hulking guards, covered in bandages and adorned with animal hides, who wield tools like cleavers, saws, and hammers as weapons. The further you travel, the more resistant the forest folk become to your presence, and despite death after death at the hands of the frenzied mob, you persist forward, as you have before.

Finally, at the heart of the forest, there is a wide glade which has been blessed by a gentle breeze. Compared to the tight alleyways made by the forest folk’s tents and the natural overgrowth, this woodland prairie feels like a welcome place for your horse to stretch their legs and enjoy the soft wind, but it is also feels like a vulnerable place, where one may be caught in the open. As the centre of this field is reached, the ground quakes and the trees rattle as a gigantic, haggard bear emerges from the darkness of the deep woods. The ridge along her back still gleams in the sunlight, but her mane gives way to spots of mange and old scars, transitioning into what looks like hardened, scale-like calluses. She eyes you up and down sternly before she braces her legs and roars. Her bellowing cry is so loud it feels as if your chest is about to explode and the world around you will be shattered into dust. The rain stops, a ring of mist forms around the trees of the valley to halt any idea of escape, and the sun shines down upon your duel with the Forest Mother.

The Battle:

Despite her worn look and heavy frame, the Forest Mother makes it apparently clear how fast she can chase you down, charging and lunging at you with unnatural speed. Her movements will completely control how you fight if you choose to combat her on foot, but you can match her better on horseback, turning the battle into a deadly jousting match. She attacks using her entire body: swiping from either side with her claws, pouncing towards you with her full weight, rearing up to slam her column-like limbs down on you, or simply using her entire front half to ram you into submission. Some of her strikes dig into the ground, and fling dirt, grass, and rain water into the air, these attacks having more of a wind up but easily being fatal if they land against you. Any attacks behind her often result in a quick turnaround sweep of her claws, but she can also let the full weight of her massive body simply fall upon you as she disrespectfully crashes her backside atop your head.

You strike her again and again, whittling her down bit by bit. Eventually, she will slow down to stand on her back legs, only going on all fours to either crash her limbs downwards or to quickly leap and readjust her positioning. Her attacks become somewhat more predictable as she slashes at you, but are still incredibly powerful. This short phase seems like a desperate reprieve from the whirlwind you had to face moments ago, but the Forest Mother is using this time to test you, as you shockingly have managed to last as long as you have. As the battle reaches its midpoint, the Forest Mother’s proud stance begins to hunch, and she starts writhing and shifting in odd, unsettling ways. Her convulsions cease when the blade of an axe splits open her throat from the inside and tears down her gut. From the slit a giant, woman-like figure forces her way out of the bear’s hide, but keeps it sitting upon her like a cloak. She readies her axe and lets loose a passionate but monstrous battle cry, causing the breeze to pick up tremendously and the trees around you to burst into autumn colours. The fight with the Forest Mother resumes with red and gold leaves flourishing each gust of wind.

With her new form, the fight has become an entirely new affair. In a silent frenzy she charges forward, easily keeping up with you on horseback if you choose to remain mounted. Her axe sweeps across the ground and is brought down in a mighty overhead strike. Her strength is so overwhelming that some of her strikes bite into the earth, and the heaving motion of dislodging the axe deals heavy damage and creates a blinding geyser of dirt. After frenzied lashes and heavy strikes, the force of her axe moving through the air creates slicing winds that stampede towards you, able cut into you from a distance. Despite her massive frame and equally large weapon crashing against you, she will also inject quick hits with hand strikes and kicks to try and catch you off guard and throw you off balance. If she wishes to try and fell you in a single hit, she will dig her axe into the ground and charge towards you, ending with a massive upwards sweep, or in a rare moment of stillness, she will let the winds whir around her and plant her axe into the ground, resulting in a phenomenal tornado of razor winds and burning, scarlet leaves. Fighting the Forest Mother on foot or horseback is viable, and it takes an incredibly keen eye to find the right moment to parry any of her colossal attacks. Despite her connection to the forest, she is resilient to fire magics, but ice or raw arcana can pierce through her hide now and again. The Forest Mother is enduring and belligerent, with few counter measures to truly turn the tides. It is a true battle, one that requires a mastery of both ferocity and patience.  

Once her frenzy is finally quelled, she falls to her knees, clinging to her axe to keep her from collapsing entirely. Despite her best efforts to stand up again, she crumbles and withers into ash. Falling into a heap, the wind dies, and the forest quickly begins shedding all of its foliage and colour. You have absorbed her essence, and gotten what brought you here in the first place.

The Aftermath:

Below the Forest Mother’s remains, a frost has spread through the ground and into the now barren trees. This place has become as desolate as the rest of the world. What forest folk remain in their village are now either huddled against the cold earth or are praying at their altars, sobbing and shaking violently, too overwhelmed to bother noticing you. The patrolling assemblages lay cut down by the larger forest folk, who now feed on their remains. They are the only ones left to challenge you, discarding their tools and fighting with bare hands in a rage. If not eating their former neighbours, they can be found on the fringes of the woods, skirmishing with wild boars and packs of dire wolves that have encroached into the forest. The empty edges of this place that once bewildered you with its idyllic glow and the gentle pitter-patter of rain on full-blooming trees has been replaced with barren twigs and stagnant air filled with the howls of hungry animals and the cries of demented brutes, joining the dismal state of everything it sought to hide from. You have found what you were looking for, and with the power of the Forest Mother seeped into your soul, you ride onwards. You are much stronger for coming here, though whether it was an essential step on your quest eludes you. There is a greater toiling in this world that you must become a part of, and whatever must be sacrificed to reach those ends will be. You persist forward, as you have before.

#elden ring #soulsborne #dark souls #bloodborne #demon's souls #fromsoft #fromsoftware #fan art #full works #cosmopoliturtle

[walker-lister]

Rising Tides Roadtrip!

For the last few days I’ve been in Cornwall, having a quick holiday, and I took the time to visit some of the places that inspired and that are featured in my story ‘Rising Tides’ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663862/chapters/59597203). I love Cornwall, it’s a childhood favourite for me, which is why I began writing the story, and it has really come full circle as not only did I enjoy being back in places which stirred nostalgia but also reminded me of the story which is my baby by this point ahaha! So, I thought I’d share some photos for anyone who is interested!

Trebarwith Strand

Trebarwith Strand was the main inspiration for the story for me when I first came up with the idea- it’s an amazing spot, small and secluded in a valley which leads down to the beach. The beach itself is very much like what I picture in my head for Kennock Cove beach- the first day I visited it was really sunny which was lucky!

The other days…. Not so much!!

“Jo is, strangely, no longer heading out into the sea, but instead wading through the shallows towards the outlay of rocks Yaz had sat upon the other day, talking to Bill. The sea is rougher where the current meets the earth, and anyone, no matter their swimming ability, would be advised against swimming in such a rough.”

The cottages leading down to the beach were also an inspiration- in particular this one on the end is very much how I picture the bookshop and Jo’s flat above- although it is missing the tardis blue shop frontage!

Kennock Cove is more built up than Trebarwith, but this row of cottages gives you an idea of what I had pictured in my mind in terms of the ‘look’ of the place!

The Dell

‘Finally, Jo stops them when the stream levels out for a little while, and there is a lush patch of grass next to the pooling water, which eventually spills over the earth as a small waterfall...  “I come here when it all feels too much, when I need to get away, get some space.” Jo explains. She shifts from one foot to the other. “I thought you might find it beneficial, too, for when everything you’re going through becomes too much.”’

Just outside of Trebarwith, a small turning just as you turn onto the road leading down into the valley towards the beach, there is a small dell within the valley with a small stream. This stuck with me from childhood memory for its peacefulness so I included it in the story- in the story, the dell is a little more inset within woodland than in reality, where it is directly connected to the car park, but the lush grass and the small river running through is very much the same.

Tintagel Castle

Tintagel is another personal favourite of mine, I love the legends of King Arthur, and obviously this site has a lot of prominence in terms of King Arthur, and so I had to include it in the story!

‘Jo throws herself into the role of being Yaz’s tour guide, pointing out specific points of interest as they weave through the ruins. At one point another visitor begins to listen in to what Jo is saying, and before they know it Jo has a small crowd surrounding her, latching onto her every word. Yaz steps back and watches as the woman, with cheeks flushed red a little, slips back into her element, talking to the crowd of people easily. Yaz is more than happy to sit back and watch her do what she does best.’

It is also where Jo reveals a truth to Yaz….

‘They wander further along the cliff line, and come to a rest at the side of a set of ruins which are more submerged into the ground than those of the castle, the remnants of small houses, apparently, covered in mossy grass, stones half buried under mud and dirt. Yaz plonks herself down on the grass next to Jo, and the two sit in a comfortable silence for a bit as they take a rest.’

King Arthur’s tomb

Jo and Yaz visit Tintagel on their first roadtrip together, and they also visit King Arthur’s Stone/Tomb, so I had to go there, too!

‘“….. This whole area has connections to Arthur. Some people think Camelford is named for Camelot, and that Slaughter Bridge refers to Arthur being slain in battle by Mordred.” Jo says, and then brings Yaz to a stop by a small river, the water lying low and exposing the pebbles and stones, slick with moisture. In front of them rests a large slab dappled with moss, engraved with writing, but Yaz cannot make out the words.

“This is King Arthur’s Tomb. Well, that’s what it’s called, anyway. Apparently, it’s been kicking around since 540 AD.” Jo says.’

I had never visited before, and was under the impression you could get close to the stone as Jo and Yaz do, but it’s actually down by the river and you are up on a small platform above looking down, but it was still an impressive site!

Sunset

‘The woman is still, and, from what Yaz can see from her lofty view, she has her arms crossed, watching the sunset unwaveringly. Yaz herself is so caught up in watching the woman that she misses the moment the sun dips below the horizon, and is only alerted to the night’s entrance when the woman seems to disappear into the shadows which welcome the evening into night.’

Finally, the sunset is an important aspect of my story, and so I did my best to try and witness it for myself! The first night I had a dinner reservation at the time, but managed to take a snap of it about an hour before which is still quite impressive!

Unfortunately, the other two nights it was too cloudy (classic Cornwall) so I couldn’t see it- but hopefully somewhen in the future I will!

That’s all I’ve got for now- there’s a couple of other things but I’m holding those back they’ll actually spoil the story so far! But thank you, if you’ve sat through this post lol and I hope you enjoyed 😀

#Thirteenth Doctor #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfic #Yasmin Khan #thasmin #rising tides

[divineluce]

Under the Needle’s Point || Morgan & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Timing: August 13th

Tagging: @mor-beck-more-problems & @divineluce

Notes: As a result of a scheduling mix up, Morgan winds up getting a tattoo done by Luce instead of Ulfric. The two have a nice little chat.

Warnings: Needles tw

Morgan couldn’t stop thinking about the dead supernaturals she’d brought out of that witch’s lab. Not even bodies, just pieces jarred and labeled according to parts, their usefulness. She’d sourced some weird shit from shops back when she was alive, but something about these just waiting, knowing what it was for, seeing the way Jo had looked her over as if she was prime stuffing material for her magic turducken. There were no names, no conveniently left behind ledger to tell Morgan the story of who these remains had been. They were just pieces, next to nothing. And what was left of her? Of the person she’d been? No one at work even knew she’d died, except for Anita. There was no family to notify. If she hadn’t dropped off the radar for two weeks, no one would have realized. And sometimes it seemed like people thought the person she’d been before was still in her, whole and bright and unchanged. How could she tell them any different. She didn’t know how to explain what “I” and “Me” signified now. She didn’t have any alternate words to pick from without drawing too much attention to her deadness, which was usually not the best idea. But even if some of her pieces had come back, Morgan felt different and rearranged all over, and she could only talk Bea’s ear off about it so long.

Walking into Ink Inc, Morgan tried to let the stupid, angsty knots inside her unwravel themselves. Ulfric usually had something good to say, and her idea of a solution would at least provide a few hours’ distraction. “Hey, Ulf?” She called. The shop was quiet, though she wasn’t sure how busy it usually was. “I’m early, but maybe we can get started--Oh.” When she saw Luce Vural approach the front desk, Morgan found her stomach knots switched out for a whole new platter of them. “You’re...not...Ulf.”

Flipping through the ancient book that lay on her workstation, Luce frowned as she looked at a few strange sigils drawn in the margins. What did these have to do with ghosts? She wasn’t familiar with anything surrounding ghosts and it was times like this when she wished she knew a decent exorcist. But, even in a town as magical as White Crest, there weren’t many of those running around. Luce mimicked the circular wards drawn in the book with the tip of her finger, tracing the shapes into the wood of the table. They didn’t feel like anything she’d ever drawn before, but she’d never been good at wards to begin with. What exactly did these things mean?

The sound of the bell ringing over the front door caught her attention and Luce shut the book and tucked it away into her backpack. She didn’t need people asking her what she was reading. As she emerged from her room, Luce launched into the typical speil, “Hey there, what can I do--” Her words trailed off for a moment when she saw Morgan standing in the middle of the shop. Leaning against the receptionist desk, Luce’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Shit. The last time she’d seen Morgan was… fuck, when they’d rescued Remmy? Christ. “What gave it away? The height? The distinct lack of a red hair and a beard?” She asked, the sarcasm coming out on reflex.

“Wow, you really are this friendly all the time, even to people you haven’t lashed out at.” Morgan deadpanned. The irony of lashing out was not lost on her, but it was too late to take the words back now. And as far as Morgan knew, Luce hadn’t exactly tried to smooth things over with Remmy since stomping on their heart. “A-ny-way...I have an appointment. A rib piece. Ulf and I talked it over already. I think there’s already a stencil and stuff, but I don’t know if you need anything fancy for working with um, zombie skin. Are you gonna be able to help a dead girl out?”

“What can I say, I’m a ray of goddamn sunshine.” Luce said, tone matching Morgan’s. If this was how this was gonna go down, she could play the game. She wasn’t sure why the woman was coming out swinging like this, but she could hazard a guess. Morgan was someone who cared about Remmy and… it wouldn’t surprise her if Remmy had told her about what went down at the carnival. “An appointment. Huh.” Blinking, Luce looked over at the computer and scrolled through the schedule. Well shit. Ulf had definitely booked her, but it looked like their evening receptionist has fucked up and double booked him. “Looks like there was some kind of scheduling fuck up, but… Yeah. I can do that.” She said. If the stencil was already drawn up and Morgan had already put down her deposit, she wasn’t going to argue. Work was work. “C’mon back. And, no, no fancy tools needed.” Luce thought back to the day Remmy had entered the shop, when they’d met the first time. Oh, for fucks sake. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Of course there is…” Morgan sighed. Not for the first time, Morgan wondered if Constance had made some backdoor bargain with the universe to keep the suffering going as long as there was some miserable creature named Morgan Beck on the planet. She had come here for herself, for the promise of having a sustained goddamn feeling that didn’t strain Deirdre’s muscles, for the talk about the universe and their personal stresses they always shared, and...not Luce and her crabby emotional bullshit. But this was what Morgan had. She’d sectioned off this day carefully and timmed the distance from the start of fall semester so she could have it done, follow ups and all, before classes. No one at work would see, but she liked the idea of having something complete and beautiful that was a part of her. Maybe she just wished marking herself with sigils still did any good. 

Morgan followed Luce to the back, explaining, “A rib piece, with color. It’s sort of sizable. I was talking about breaking the whole thing up into sessions, maybe.” She cleared her throat. “Does that, uh, sound good…?”

“Does Ulf know that you’re… a zombie?” Luce asked as she scrolled through the shared files on her laptop. Thank christ they had a good internal filing system for shit like this. She was able to locate the design that Ulf had already drawn up without too much difficulty. It wasn’t her personal cup of tea, but their styles weren’t that far off and she could do color nearly as well as she did black and white. “I ask because I’ve-- I did Remmy’s tattoo a while back.” She said, unable to hide the stutter-step in her voice, the slight hitch in her words. “They healed almost instantly. It’s how I knew they weren’t exactly human. So, you might not actually need a couple of sessions. Could save you money.” She said with an offhand gesture before pushing away from her desk. “This look like the one?” She asked, gesturing for Morgan to look over at the stencil that was on her computer screen. 

“Yes,” Morgan said. “He said he’d never done one on, you know, someone like me before. But that’s good to know. Maybe this isn’t gonna be the worst idea after all.” She kept her eyes on Luce, watching as she choked on Remmy’s name and stiffened with awkwardness. “If you’d rather we get this done in one go and it won’t mess with your schedule that sounds fine.” She stepped closer to Luce awkwardly and took a look at the design she’d worked out with Ulf.

There was a deer skull, positioned at an angle so you could see the two wide holes where its eyes once were without feeling them looking straight at you. Bluebonnets and Evening Primrose and rich red Winecups, flowers she hadn’t seen since she left Texas, sprouted from one of the sockets. The blues, pinks, and reds on their petals were dappled with color as if from the tip of a watercolor brush. More flowers, goldenrod, blackberry, and meadow-rue, hung from the antlers, garlanded loosely in a way their real stems would never allow. A fine chain studded with small pentagram stars and crystals settled between the horns like bunting and dangled down beneath the skull by several inches. It was elaborate, but Morgan felt better about herself looking at it already. “Yeah, that’s the one. If you can do it, I guess we better get started.” She pulled off her shirt, bunched it around her chest, and waited for Luce to take on the challenge and show her the way.

“It’s your call. We can do whatever works for you.” Luce said, her voice measured and careful to avoid the halting tone it had taken on with the mention of Remmy. “Why don’t I get the outline of it done first and then we can see how it goes? It’ll be a long one session, but I don’t have anything up on the schedule. I was just hanging around in case we got a walk in. And… low and behold. A walk in.” Besides, she needed the money. Hospital bills were still rolling in from her stay after Bea’s resurrection and at the rate that Nell was going, she’d probably need to help her younger sister out too. 

Staring at the design, Luce found herself marveling at Ulf’s work. He was, after all, the one who had inspired her to take up their chosen profession. His linework was impressive, the color pallet beautiful, the composition well balanced and perfectly in line with the mystical elements of the tattoo itself. She’d studied his work long enough to be able to emulate it-- the shading might not be quite how he wanted it, some of the lines might go thin in places where he preferred something a bit more bold. But, they could duke it out over beers at Dell’s if it came to it. “Alright, let’s get rolling.” She laid out her tools, fixing a new needle in her machine, laying out her pallet of inks on the rolling tray she kept by her chair as the stencil printed. The placement came easily enough and Luce snapped on a pair of gloves before settling back on her stool. “Just let me know if it feels like it’s too much and we can take a break.” She said before turning the machine on and putting the needle to Morgan’s cool skin.

“Well that’s nice and completely non-committal,” Morgan said. Probably because Luce was giving her an out. And, if she really wanted, she could take it. She could throw her money and her tip at Ulfric instead. She could forego, what, at least eight hours alone in a tattoo parlor with Luce Vural? It made a certain kind of sense and Luce would know how Morgan felt about the way she handled her bullshit with Remmy to boot. But Morgan had come here with the intention of getting her tattoo and she was not going to let her anger and bewilderment at Luce get in the way of that. They could handle a transactional meeting. “But if you’re really free all day, let’s get started.” She settled down on the seat, glancing over her shoulder at Luce to see how she was muscling up to the prospect.

“Oh, please,” she snorted, dryly. “I had a pole go in one end and out the other. I don’t think anything is going to be too--oh!” Her sentence died in a squeak as the needle made contact. There was...something alright. Like a deep scratch on her insides, one that reverberated throughout her whole body. She couldn’t remember any sensation this immediately potent except for the punches Mina threw in their practice sessions.  Morgan dug her hands into her shirt and squeezed tight. “Jeez. That’s one hell of a rush.”

A part of Luce had almost hoped that Morgan would decline the offer for a full length session. It was a huge tattoo and the lengthy sessions always left her drained, her back sore from leaning over someone, her hands cramped and tired. But, the other woman seemed set on getting this done, and who was she to argue with it. “Yeah. Like I said, we can play it by ear.” She said, her tone calm and neutral.

As Morgan reacted to the sting of the needle, Luce raised an eyebrow as she continued to work. “You good?” She asked. When she’d done this on Remmy, they’d hardly reacted at all. It’d been a big part in how she’d known they weren’t human. It wasn’t that they were being macho about it, like most of Luce’s clients, they just hadn’t seemed to feel any of it. There hadn’t been any involuntary twitches to the muscle when she’d been working, nothing. “I’m guessing it must be weird, going from not feeling hardly anything to being able to feel this?” She asked, the echoes of a memory that belonged to Morgan returning in a swift wave. “Like I said, if it’s too much, we can break this up into different sessions.”

Morgan had to keep her laugh somewhere tight in her chest. “Oh, it’s definitely weird, like the world’s tiniest jackhammer is dancing on my bones. But the other thing is I have to do a whole round of mental gymnastics to trick myself into feeling things or almost feeling things, or I just get in a really great tension workout trying to make myself press into things hard enough to feel like I’m really here. But I guess you kinda know how that is, huh?” She turned over her shoulder, eyeing Luce’s reaction. For someone who pretended to have the emotional capacity of a toothpick, she’d taken Morgan’s memories mostly in stride with the brain biter and her own valuable memories had been full of feeling too. “You’re good, Luce. Although, we should probably pass the time with more than just complete awkward silence, right?”

“The tiniest jackhammer? Never heard that one before, but sure.” Luce commented blithely as she kept her hand nice and steady, following the smooth curves of the stencil, tracing over the skull design. She was already planning out how she’d do the shading of the eye sockets, the way the flowers lay against bone, but Morgan’s words took her out of it for a moment. Blinking, her hand faltered before she focused back on her work, the needle continuing to move. “Yeah. I guess I do.” She muttered, reminded of the fact that their memory swap had been just that. A swap. Morgan had seen her memories, had experienced them. The moment from her childhood when her sisters had sat on the living room floor, braiding each other’s hair. One of the many midnight margs celebrations, usually done after coven meetings or some other ritual. Morgan had seen good memories, happy memories. Memories Luce didn’t share with anyone. “Depends on how you want to fill it.” She said as she dipped the tip of the needle back into the small container of ink and resumed her work, “Are you going to try and talk to me about Remmy? I know you two are close.”

“You brought them up, not me,” Morgan said. “But yeah. We’re pretty darn close. I don’t know how much you’ve been keeping up with them or how much you actually care, but they really have been through the wringer lately. And that’s on top of all the other stuff they had to deal with before, including me.” She sighed as Luce’s needle brushed against her bone again. Who knew that something so sharp could feel so much like relief. Was this why people got hooked on getting them? “What I’m trying to say is, handle with care. Remmy can take a lot of hits, but that doesn’t mean they should have to. And maybe figure your shit out before they get their hopes up again.” She drew in a shallow breath and tried to extend her attention around her body, feel the novel tingles of air and the buzzing prick of the needle as it traveled away from her bone again and grew faint. It was all she could do not to pout. Everything about existing was work, was an act of management in concentration and willpower. At least when her bones were catching onto a feeling for her she could let go. But that would’ve been easy, and universe forbid Morgan have anything like that for long.

Luce let out a sigh as she continued to draw, machine buzzing in her grasp. Well, shit. She had been the one to bring them up. Fuck. But, it was better to rip the bandaid off now, right? Better now than to sit in awkward silence or let it hang over their heads while she worked. “Yeah. I know they have.” She said off handedly. She knew that Remmy had been through it. How could she not know? She’d held them that night when they’d re-lived their experiences at the Ring, she’d seen the collar around their neck drop them to the ground, she’d seen just how fucked up they’d been after the rescue mission. And now, the latest pile of bullshit-- she’d seen Nadia drag them out of Pat’s Place, seen them brought to their knees by poison. She knew. “Including you.” Luce echoed, remembering what those words meant. Remmy had been the one to turn Morgan, to save her. “You think I don’t know that they shouldn’t have to deal with all the bullshit life’s thrown at them? I’m real aware of that fact.” She said, though her words lacked bite. “They don’t deserve any of the fucking stuff that happens to them.”

It was hard for Morgan to get a read on Luce while she was halfway down her torso, inking out the curves of deer horns. She sounded tense, bitter, but those might’ve been part of Luce’s factory settings for all Morgan knew. “Well, I couldn’t tell from here,” Morgan said, more accusatory than she’d meant to sound. She frowned, waited a moment, and tried again. “I’m glad we can agree on Remmy needing a break. I’d guess we could also agree on Remmy deserving some basic kindness. We can’t control their circumstances much, but we can be good to them, right?” She didn’t think this was a controversial point and so didn’t wait to press on to her real question. “So I guess I’m just..really curious about why you handled your side the way you did. I know you tend to come out swinging, which I don’t follow either a lot of the time, but this...wasn’t that.”

Lips pressing together into a thin line at Morgan’s tone, Luce said nothing and instead focused on her work. She wasn’t going to fuck up Morgan’s tattoo just because the other woman was being a bitch about things to her. Even if she really wanted to. All it would take is a few little lines-- nope. She valued her work too much to fuck up someone’s tattoo on purpose. Drawing the machine back, she wiped the stray flecks of ink off with a paper towel, not bothering to ease up on the pressure. Morgan wouldn’t be able to feel it the same way people did. She dipped the needle into more ink and set back to work. “What do you mean, how I handled things?” She asked flatly, her tone emotionless. “They wanted more, which wasn’t part of the deal. From day one, I made my intentions very clear.” Luce said as she started on the curves of the deer’s eye sockets, staring blankly back at her. Almost accusingly. Oh, fuck off. 

Morgan waited for Luce’s words to settle before speaking again, just in case she started snapping all over again. This was, technically, not her business. But she was upset with Luce for how her words had affected Remmy and how it had surprised her as well. She didn’t even know what, specifically, had happened. But even the vague strokes were so unlike the person she’d thought Luce was. “You were cruel,” she said at last. “What you want or don’t want to intentionally invite into your life is your business, and if you want to put boundaries around how much you really care about Remmy, go for it, whatever, I guess. But you can still be kind when you’re telling someone ‘no’ or ‘not right now.’ You can try to make the hurt as small and possible. I didn’t think you were the kind of person to do that, especially to someone kind of close to you. Which, okay, we don’t even know each other that well, really, so maybe it was my mistake. But it was still...really weird to hear about, after all you did for them.”

“What can I say, I’m a bitch.” Luce said callously. A nosy bitch, getting into other people’s business, doing things that pissed people off just because she could. And she was more than happy to live with that reputation. It was fine, it was normal. As Morgan continued to talk, Luce began to start on the outlines of the flowers, their delicate petals requiring a lighter hand. She rolled her eyes at that-- a lighter hand. People would like it if she handled things that way, wouldn’t they? If she was kinder, if she wasn’t as rude, as rough, as angry. “They weren’t close to me.” She insisted. “We just fucked.” Luce said, though the words didn’t hold quite as much weight as they once had. They hadn’t just fucked. They’d held her that night when she’d broken and told them about Bea, she’d done the same for them after they’d been torn to pieces. She’d broken them free from the Ring, destroyed the building, taken lives… for Nell, yes. But, for Remmy too. Looking at her gloved hands, Luce’s jaw clenched. “I did shit because I wanted to. Not because of them.”

“Okay, I know you didn’t just fuck,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “I know you made yourself emotionally present for them in some really rough, vulnerable moments. They told me how safe you made them feel, and how it seemed like you were opening up. And you were ready to kill everyone at the ring before you knew they had Nell too.” She gasped as the needle circled over her rib bones again, making her insides almost come alive. “And maybe we’re not close, but I know enough about you to know you’re not just a bitch. What I don’t get is why it’s so important to you that other people see it that way. No one is vulnerable about everything all the time, and for some people...yeah, kindness and softness has to be earned. But...you still haven’t answered my question. Did their question make you feel...betrayed or upset somehow? Were you scared?”

Luce sucked in a breath at Morgan’s words. Of course, Remmy told her about shit. Of course they did. “Maybe I got a taste for it. Who knows.” She said in an offhand tone, brushing past her quick leap to destruction. She continued to do her work, keeping her hand nice and steady as Morgan continued to talk at her. So they’d swapped memories once, that didn’t make Morgan an expert on her, or her feelings. She didn’t fucking do feelings, not like that. But, at the last question, her eyes widened in surprise. If she didn’t have literally years of experience, of people saying stupid shit that caught her off guard, she might have fucked up her lines. Instead, her hand remained steady. Even so, there was no way to hide how her breath hitched slightly. “You don’t need to know why I did what I did. You’re not Remmy’s keeper and you’re sure as hell not mine.” Still the word echoed in her mind. Scared. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. Wasn’t she?

Morgan caught the way Luce doubled down on her tension. So, getting warmer, maybe creeping up on a nerve. It probably shouldn’t have felt so surprising; fear made fools of everyone. Hadn’t she learned that one a dozen or so times over? “You’re too interesting to be selling yourself short like that. But…” She gasped again. Why couldn’t she just shut up and enjoy this again? Luce was right, she wasn’t Remmy’s keeper, and even if she was still mostly playing by their request to ‘not yell at’ Luce, she was...definitely skirting around things. But it itched at her worse than this needle, knowing Remmy had been hurt out of, what, recklessness? And Luce was cutting herself off from a relationship she had seemed to care about right until it was brought to the surface and made real. “You’re right,” she said at last. “We don’t have to get into this. We can go though the next eight hours talking about something else. Like...this is the first feeling-almost-feeling I’ve had that didn’t give someone at least an arm workout...well, actually, I guess you will have one by the time we’re done, but, it’s the concept for the thing. Or uh…” Stars, they really didn't have that much in common, did they? “You know, if this thing that doesn’t matter to you at all is also for some reason too much to talk about, maybe you should pick.”

“Damn right we don’t.” Luce said firmly. She’d dealt with longer sessions with worse people before. Then again, they weren’t usually people she had to deal with outside of the shop. But, someone who knew her the way Morgan did? Someone who knew her family? It made things trickier. She knew she could keep her cool about this, that she should just keep her mouth shut and deal with it. So Morgan wanted to bitch at her about how she’d hurt Remmy. So fucking what. She could handle it. Then why did she feel anger creeping in the pit of her stomach? Pulling the machine back from Morgan’s skin, Luce tossed the machine down onto the tray next to her with a loud clatter. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, Morgan, which is exactly how I like to keep things. You don’t get to tell me what I should do, that I need to pick and choose. I already made my decision, I already chose. And you don’t need to know why I did.” She said, staring at the woman with fire in her eyes. 

Morgan groaned deep in her throat. Now she wasn’t even feeling anything. But now without having the precision of the device to worry about, she could turn and look at Luce fully. She was angry alright, but nothing she was saying was making sense. “I am very certain I already conceded that first point, she said. And as for the rest, I didn’t say literally any of those things. Which makes me wonder who exactly is? Who is telling you what you need to do or that you have to pick and choose between...whatever it is you think your binary options are? Or that you can’t change your mind about your decision later? Because I just wanted to know why you went out of your way to be mean to someone we both care about, and then I offered you an out. So what are you really upset about here, Luce?”

Startled, Luce stared at Morgan for a moment. She had said those things, hadn’t she? Or had Luce been reading too deeply into things, looking into things that didn’t exist? Either way, her outburst had dug herself an even deeper hole than she’d started in. Fuck’s sake. Luce rolled her eyes, though the action was more for show than anything. It was a way to get people to leave her alone. But, she couldn’t unhear the other woman’s words. What was she upset about? Really? “What am I upset about? The fact that Remmy went off and fucked everything up. Things were fine, just the way they were. It was all just for fun. And then they wanted more. I fucking told them that I’m not interested in more, because I’m not go-- I don’t do more.” She said before rolling back from the chair, her hands up in the air. “Look. Ulf’s appointment ends in ten. Get him to finish your tattoo. I’m done.” Luce said with a shake of her head.

“Luce…” Morgan said softly. “Hey, you...are a good person, Luce. You’re good. I mean, I kind of hate that word, it’s so arbitrary, but as far as I’m concerned, you are. And I’m not the only one, okay? Whatever it is you need out of your relationships, whatever you choose, as long as it’s really what you want and need, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re good. And if your needs change, you’re still good. You’re good and you deserve to be happy, whether that includes ‘more’ or not, or Remmy or not. You deserve to be more than just okay. You know that, right?” She cleared her throat, looking down at her wrinkled shirt and the only mostly done outline of her tattoo. “But uh, if you need a break or you’d just rather not anymore, that’s...fine.”

You deserve to be more than just okay. Luce had said similar things to Remmy before and now they were being turned onto her. She wondered if they felt just as false to them as they did to her. She didn’t deserve someone like Remmy, didn’t need someone like them in her life. Because what would happen if she did let them in? If she said sure, let’s try, let’s be something? She’d open up to them and that scared her. But, Luce was startled to realize, what scared her more than the vulnerability of it all was the wanting. She wanted to open up to them. To be honest with them. But, what would happen then? Nothing good. Staring at the outline on Morgan’s side, she sighed. “I’ll finish it. But,” She grabbed the remote to the stereo system from her desk, loud music filling the room. “No more talking.”

#p: morgan beck #p: utnp #wickedswriting #needles cw

[thesquireofcheddar]

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock Flings arching like a bridge;—that branchless ash, Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge Of the blue clay-stone.

                                          Now, my friends emerge Beneath the wide wide Heaven—and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence.

                                                       A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

She Walks in Beauty BY LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON) She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

#lit

[poem-today]

A poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

This Lime-tree Bower my Prison

[Addressed to Charles Lamb, of the India House, London]

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock Flings arching like a bridge; -- that branchless ash, Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge Of the blue clay-stone.

                                       Now, my friends emerge Beneath the wide wide Heaven -- and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence.

                                                     A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight; and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creaking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

1772-1834

#samuel taylor coleridge #charles lamb #english poetry #romantic poetry

[glassrain]

Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

     Tree and flower and leaf and grass,

     Let them pass! Let them pass!

     Hill and water under sky,

     Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though we pass them by today,

Tomorrow we may come this way

And take the hidden paths that run

Towards the moon or to the sun.

     Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

     Let them go! Let them go!

     Sand and stone and pool and dell,

     Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadows to the edge of night,

Until the stars are are all alight.

Then world behind and home ahead,

We’ll wander back to home and bed.

     Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,

Away shall fade! Away shall fade!

Fire and lamp, and mead and bread,

And then to bed! And then to bed!

So this is one of Tolkien’s Hobbit songs, called simply “a walking-song.” It doesn’t even have a proper name. I love this song, personally. I read it and was positively enraptured. I think it’s this delightful, almost whimsical mix of both the restful comforts of home, and also a simple wonder towards discovery and adventure. Which is wonderful, because usually focus is on one or the other - on the safety of home, or the splendor of adventure - but this song really captures just how beautiful both are. One can’t stay safe and warm at home forever, because then they will learn and experience and live. Likewise, one can’t adventure forever, because they will ultimately find themselves alone, with no ties to anyone and nothing worthwhile to show for all their discoveries and knowledge. It celebrates the wonder of life, but takes comfort in the fact that all the excitement and questing will ultimately find rest in the comforts of home. Both are important, and this song delights in them both.

I also enjoy the fact that the more “adventurous” aspects of this song are ... so simple. It’s not about great battles or distant lands. The things that are discovered in this song are things like flowers, apples, pools and pathways. Not exactly the stuff of legends. But the songs stops on these everyday discoveries with wide-eyed wonder. Look! This little corner of the world, this grass and these stones, no one else but me has ever seen them before. That dirt road there to the left, where do you suppose it goes? To a clear, sparkling spring? To an open field? Perhaps to a thicket or a strawberry bush? Who knows? It’s a beautiful, twinkling mystery, made even more so for the waiting of discovery. It’s such a dazzling, child-like way of looking at the world. And if we’re honest, isn’t this the way we all want to see the world?

And I adore the pacing of this song! Like, the way it starts: the singer is on their way home, but is in no great rush, enjoying “the long way around” as it were. The song stops to take note of “Tree and flower and leaf and grass.” It’s bright and loose and carefree, and you can almost feel the  sunlight on the back of the singer’s neck and the grass beneath their bare feet. The song continues on, and turns its focus on “A new road or a secret gate.” Winding roads behind hidden corners, new discoveries. Mysteries, curiosity, delightful secrets, wonder. (And this line, “And though we may pass them by today, tomorrow we may come this way,” just settles in my heart. It’s so ... I’m not quite sure. relaxed, maybe. At peace. Our world is so rushed, so intent on things like being successful or living in the moment. But this? It’s quiet. The singer derives their quiet delight from their journey home, but is also aware that more delights are yet to come. They don’t have to rush in and discover today, while things are still beautiful, because there is still tomorrow. The singer welcomes tomorrow and all its mysteries. The singer quietly walks past opportunities, because they have hope that, perhaps the two of them will meet again. I don’t know if I’m explaining it right - I don’t even know that I really understand it myself - but this line is so lovely to me.) The stanza in this verse focuses on foods, thorns, pools of water. Less commonplace than leaves and grass. There’s an excitement here, a sense of discovery. Now it almost feels like the singer is walking through a cheerful woods, with sunlight dappling in through the filter of the treetops. The first verse was loose and relaxed, while this one has a little more focus to it. The final verse is thoughtful, musing, taking everything in with a quiet serenity. This verse talks about “Mist and twilight, cloud and shade.” The sun has set, the stars are just beginning to appear in the pink-and-violet sky. The singer talks about how big and undiscovered the world yet is, and that’s okay and that’s wonderful. Because it’s not the job of the singer to discover every corner - merely to find joy in his own discoveries. And then the singer retires peacefully, gleefully to the warmth and comfort of home and bed, because life is vast and beautiful and so very, very full. And this song just makes me so happy.

As a closing note, fellow movie-watchers may recognize that last verse - isn’t that what Pippin sings to Denethor? Or course, this version is much happier than that found in the movie (it always rather amused me, Pippin insisting that he doesn’t know any serious songs, and then singing a piece that sounds like a requiem for the dead). Furthermore, this song is reportedly put to the tune of an old Hobbit folk-tune; whatever it is that Pippin is singing in Return of the King, I can 100% guarantee that that’s NO Hobbit folk-tune.

#lord of the rings #lotr #j.r.r. tolkien #lotr - commentary #tolkien #the fellowship of the ring #canon compliance aside though i DO love pippin's song #it's SO hauntingly beautiful #sorry for rambling so long on this song probably no one but me cares about #but it hit me hard and i needed to talk about it to someone #and my family hasn't read the books #and also probably isn't interested in hearing my long rave about one unimportant song #but i really love this song okay?

[soft-as-sawdust-and-chalk]

So, so long ago,

and so far away,

when Time was just a line

that you fed me,

when you wanted to stay,

we'd talk

as soft as chalk,

till morning came, as pale as a pearl:

No time!

No, no time!

Now, I have got all the time

in the world.

Say, honey, did you belong to me?

Tell me, honey,

was your heart at rest when, darlin,

all the mourning doves were howling us

a song of love's

godawful lawlessness?

Say, honey, did you belong to me?

Tell me, darlin, did I pass your test?

I lay, as still as death, until the dawn,

whereupon I wrested from

that godawful lawlessness.

I roam around the tidy grounds

of my dappled sanatorium.

Coatless, I sit

amongst the moles, adrift,

and I dote upon my pinesap gum.

And the light, through the pines,

in brassy tines,

lays over me, dim as rum

and thick as molasses.

And so time passes.

And so, my heart, tomorrow comes.

I feel you, leaning,

out back with the crickets,

loyal heart marking the soon-ness,

darkness:

tonight, still,

the mourning doves

will summon us their song

of love's neverdoneing lawlessness

while, over and over--

rear up! stand down! lay round!--

trying to sound-out,

or guess the reasons,

I sleep like a soldier, without rest.

But there is no treason,

where there is only lawlessness.

In the last week

of the last year I was aware,

I took a blind shot, across the creek,

at the black bear,

when he roused me in the night,

and left me cowering with my light,

calling out

Who is there?

Who's there?

Who is there?

I watched you sleep,

repeating my prayer.

(Give love a little shove

and it becomes terror.)

Now I am calling,

in a sadness beyond anger

and beyond fear,

Who is there? Who's there?

Who is there?

I glare and nod,

like the character, God,

bearing down

upon the houses and lawns.

I knew a little bit,

but, darling, you were it,

and, darling, now it is long gone.

Sweetheart, in your clean, bright start--

back there, behind a hill, and a dell,

and a state line or two--

I'll be thinking of you.

Yes, I'll be thinking,

and be wishing you well.

We land, I stand,

But I wait for the sound of the bell.

I have to catch a cab,

and my bags are at the carousel.

And then--Lord, just then--

time alone will only tell.

SOFT AS CHALK- JOANNA NEWSOM

#joanna newsom #soft as chalk #this is me in the pics lol #jnew lyrics

[architectnews]

Apple Via Del Corso Rome Store

Apple Via Del Corso Roma, Palazzo Marignoli, Italian Capital Shopping, Retail Italy, Interior Photos

Apple Via Del Corso Rome Store

28 May 2021

Apple Via Del Corso Store Rome – Palazzo Marignoli

Architects: Foster + Partners

Address: Palazzo Marignoli, Via del Corso 181-188, Roma RM, Italy

Apple Via del Corso is the newest retail store, centrally located in the heart of Rome:

Apple Via Del Corso opens in the heart of historic Rome

Situated on Via del Corso, one of the most vibrant streets in Italy’s capital, Apple Via Del Corso brings the historic Palazzo Marignoli back to life. Inspired by its colorful past, the design reveals the building’s fascinating and multi-layered history by unveiling painted ceilings and frescoes from the 1890s juxtaposed with modern graffiti artworks from the 1950s. Celebrating the murals, hidden from view for decades, the new design creates a space where the city and history truly meet.

Apple Via del Corso centers around a lush courtyard brimming with native Camphora trees — the green heart of the palazzo and a remnant of the historic monastery Santa Maria Maddal:

The design is the result of a close collaboration between Apple’s design teams and the integrated engineering and design team at Foster + Partners. Stefan Behling, Head of Studio, Foster + Partners, said: “The joy of the project was to peel back and rediscover the layers of history throughout the building and revealing its eclectic past, which ranges from the historic painted ceilings and the frescoes by Fabio Cipolla, both from the 1890s, to the more recent graffiti artworks by Afro Basaldella. Palazzo Marignoli has seen so much throughout its history, and we feel truly privileged to be able to be part of its newest phase of life. Especially, as Rome is one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Once inside, visitors will find original detailing of locally sourced Carrara marble, including a monumental staircase dating back to 1888:

Located on the site of a 16th century convent ‘delle Convertite,’ Palazzo Marignoli was designed by renowned architect Salvatore Bianchi in 1870 for Filippo Marignoli. A second addition by the architect Giulio Podesti in the 19th century added the main façade we see today. From 1890 to 1955, it housed the famous Caffè Aragno, a fashionable meeting place for writers, journalists and political figures visiting from the neighboring parliament. On the ground floor two large ceiling paintings called “Dawn” and “Dusk” by Fabio Cipolla and Ettore Ballerini respectively, have been carefully restored and integrated within the new store. One of the most exciting finds were the multiple graffiti panels created by the artist, Afro Basaldella – a contemporary of Picasso and one of Italy’s most important artists – depicting urban scenes from Italian cities.

The teams were also able to revive and integrate Fabio Cipolla’s “Dawn” and Ettore Ballerini’s “Dusk,” two large ceiling paintings that date back to the early 1900s:

The façade towards Via del Corso has also been carefully restored, its large windows allowing views into the store and towards a beautiful internal courtyard. Entry to the store is through a historic passage that leads to the courtyard flanked by two generous and striking spaces that celebrate the grandeur of the historic palazzo. The arches and vaults of the central passage are lined with Carrara stone, carefully selected to match the existing marble and create dramatic vistas that lead you to the grand staircase. These spaces are an ideal setting for all customers to engage, explore and be inspired by Apple’s latest products and the artwork that surrounds them.

Adjacent to the Forum is a dedicated space for Apple Support and the Genius Bar, where a team of conservators have worked thousands of hours to restore the exquisite, geometrically patterned:

The courtyard is a remnant of the 16th century monastery and its garden, forming a peaceful green heart offering respite from the busy shopping street. It creates a calm focus for the entire building, visible from almost every corner of the store. The Camphora trees with their soft canopies offer dappled shade, creating a welcoming atmosphere for visitors, and leafy vistas up to the lush courtyard terrace on the piano nobile. The historic lanterns that were found on the site have been carefully restored by local specialists using high-efficiency LEDs that mimic traditional candlelight.

Interior wall panels view:

The monumental staircase built originally by Marignoli to access his residence on the first floor leads you to the piano nobile, meticulously restored with its original Carrara marble detailing. The original skylight which was built over during a previous refurbishment has been restored to flood the space with artificial light that matches the tone of natural daylight. The first floor houses the Apple Forum within the vaulted former ballroom. The Apple Forum is the focus for Today at Apple that features workshops and events.

Large glass windows face Via del Corso, allowing natural light to stream into the interior:

The space adjacent to the grand ballroom – historically used as a games room – features an elaborate geometrically patterned, hand-painted ceiling, which was discovered during the course of construction. A dedicated team of conservators have worked thousands of hours to restore the ceiling to its former glory. Linking all these rooms is a gallery space that opens up onto a terrace. Inspired by historic Roman roof terraces, the space is filled with fragrant jasmine vines and olive trees, looking down onto the canopy of trees in the courtyard, offering another delightful place for visitors to unwind and relax. Apple Via del Corso is a celebration of the past and future and delicately articulates the different eras of history, creating a harmonious juxtaposition of old and new, and takes this building with so much history into its next phase of life.

Interior view:

Foster + Partners

Apple Via Del Corso Rome Store images / information received 280521 from Foster + Partners

Address: Via del Corso, 181-188, 00186 Roma RM, Italy

Phone: [phone]

Location: Palazzo Marignoli, Via Del Corso, Roma, Italy

Rome Shopping Centres

Contemporary Rome Shopping Centre Architecture

Aura Valle Aurelia Rome Shopping Centre Architects: Design International image courtesy of architects Aura Valle Aurelia Rome Shopping Centre

Olgiata Shopping Plaza, Via Cassia, Design: LAD (Laboratorio di Architettura e Design) Olgiata Shopping Plaza Rome Building

Buildings in Rome

Contemporary Rome Architecture

Rome Architecture Designs – chronological list

Hawkers Rome Store, near Plaza de España Architects: CuldeSac photograph : Luigi Filetici Hawkers Rome Store

Rome Architectural News

Rome Architecture Walking Tours – walking tour guides by e-architect

City of Sun, near Via della Lega Lombarda & Tiburtina Station, East Rome Architects: Labics photograph : Marco Cappelletti City of Sun in Rome

BNL-BNP Paribas Real Estate Group Headquarters, Tiburtina Design: 5+1AA Alfonso Femia Gianluca Peluffo architectures, Italy photo © Luc Boegly BNL-BNP Paribas Group HQ in Rome

Stadio Flaminio – Grant Design: Pier Luigi Nervi photograph © Oscar Savio. Courtesy Pier Luigi Nervi Project Association, Brussels Stadio Flaminio Rome Building

Rome buildings : Contemporary architecture

Foster + Partners Architects

Comments for the Apple Via Del Corso Rome Store page welcome

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#e-architect

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (16/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

No forest was ever silent. The wind rustled through the leaves, and the chirping and singing of birds added a layer of sound to the calls of insects. All together, the background hum of white noise lent an air of peace to the gently dappled light in Niall's forest. In Evan's world, the odd calls of monsters added a second layer of sound to the place, but it was easy to let it all fade.

"U O ME! U O ME!"

The piercing cry of the Duebills, on the other hand...not so much. As one the little group turned to stare at a Greenling tucked in the corner of the clearing, a relatively skinny looking bird hovering at their side. The Greenling was trying to shush the creature, but as they had all learned, that would never work.

"MONEY! NOW!" The Duebill shouted. Feeling another headache coming on, Roland turned away.

"Forget just unethical, this all has to be illegal somewhere," He muttered. One of Evan's ears twitched in his direction

"If it's not," he hissed, "It ought to be. It's so unfair!" He crossed his arms, working his arms band around and around his wrist. It was stuffed full of the evidence they’d found in the dice factory, but even knowing that didn’t seem to calm Evan down. His tail lashed. "I still can't believe that Master Pugnacius would cheat his own citizens and then force those horrid things on them!"

"People are full of crock, lad," Batu rumbled with a heavy sigh. "It's best if ye realize that while ye're young."

“I know, but…” Evan shook his head. “I just can’t believe that everyone would be like this!”

"I’ll tell you what I don’t believe: that Miss Nella’s going to be happy about all of this!" Tani said, hopping up onto a moss covered stone. "The whole of the city in on a dirty trick, stealing forests, screeching birds..." She shook her head. "She'll be sad she missed it!"

"We can tell her everything. It’d be like she was with us this whole time!" Evan said with a smile, quickly getting off the earlier subject. They'd checked in on Aranella before leaving Goldpaw and found her sleeping, paid for the Inn for two weeks and been lucky enough to stumble across a former maid of Ding Dong Dell who'd fled to Goldpaw. Persha had been as surprised to see Evan as he had been surprised to see her, but it had been a good surprise. The Grimalkin maid, having been working with Aranella for years, was a good friend to the pair of them, and had agreed to keep an eye on Aranella while Evan and the others were away.

To know that his adopted mother would be alright had lifted a visible weight off of Evan's shoulders, and Roland had been glad to see that. Even so, Evan's smile faded as he looked over his shoulder at the still screeching Duebill. It was nearly as fat as Batu's had been, Roland realized. A handful of Guilders, huh?

"Though perhaps it would be best if we didn't tell her about the Duebills." Evan finished quickly.

"You mean about you and Mr. Smartypants earnin' youerselves a couple, eh?" Lofty snorted. "Aye, sunshine, that'd be best."

Roland coughed to hide an unkind bit of laughter. Batu growled at him, but with the practice weeks of traveling together had given him, Roland studiously ignored the big man and pressed on.

"We'll have to get back to town to tell her anything," he said instead, letting a little bit amusement color his tone as Evan laughed sheepishly. "And that's another week on the road."

The kids groaned. Tani bent at the waist.

"My feet're gonna fall off if we don't take a break!" She complained, "Can't we just take ten minutes?"

"Or just sleep here?" Evan asked, turning wide, watery blue eyes on Roland. Instantly Roland's heart clenched; Evan was learning far too quickly that that expression usually worked to get him to back down, and now wasn't that much different than before. How unfair was it that a boy with cat ears could pull off puppy-dog eyes so well? Something had to be laughing at him for all of this.

"Come on, Rolly-boy!" Lofty chimed in from where he stood by Evan's heels, "It's nice and pretty and safe by yur. Would stayin' be such a bad thing?"

In response, Roland gestured over his shoulder. At that instant, the Duebill shrieked again. Evan's ears folded back.

"Do you think you could sleep through that?" Roland asked seriously, looking from face to face. All of them were grimacing, and Batu was muttering about plucking a bird soon if this kept up. Roland nodded. "Right. We're not staying here tonight."

"But we can take a break, right?" Evan turned those eyes on him again. Roland grit his teeth and tried to resist. "Just a little one?"

...Oh, to hell with it.

"Alright," he said after a moment, "Fifteen minutes. But then we really need to get going--"

The kids let up a lackluster relieved cheer and dropped where they stood. They had been going for a while, though, so he really couldn't blame them. It was just so much easier to think without that growing headache that Roland found he had the energy to go for another good while.

“What’s the big rush about anyway, Rolly-boy?” Lofty asked, having plopped down on his back in a patch of thick grass. “You want to go off and stare at your sweetheart again?”

“Sweetheart?” Roland sputtered. All eyes fell on him and he felt his face flush hot. Lofty couldn’t mean— “W-what are you talking about?”

“You know!” Lofty levered himself up, “The Mandarin! You were starin’ at him somethin’ fierce!” The little Kingmaker waved a hand in the air, and somewhere behind the group Tani was clearly failing to hold back giggles. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, you know, liking the menfolk and all! I’m just wonderin’ what it is you’d be seein' in the bloke. He ain't the prettiest of lookers."

"Yeah!" Tani chimed in with a grin, "Who knows what he's hiding behind that mask!"

"Oh--" Evan frowned at them, "You two! Don't judge a person because of their appearance! What matters is what's on the inside, right?" He grinned up at Roland. "What do you think?"

He couldn't believe they were talking about this! Roland cleared his throat and shook his head, cheeks feeling a bit too flushed for the chilly air.

"You're not wrong," he said to Evan, "But that's not why I was staring at him."

"It's not?" Evan tilted his head. "Then, what was it?"

"I thought I recognized him from somewhere," Roland said, looking aside. "But I couldn't remember from where."

It had been like seeing an old friend from decades past and knowing you knew them, but being unable to truly place their face. It was nagging at him like a loose tooth. Obviously there was no way for him to have known the Mandarin in his old world, and they'd certainly never met in the few hours that Roland had been in Ding Dong Dell, so where...

“Pah,” Batu scoffed, waving a hand through the air. His eyes were twinkling with amusement. “S’just as well. Man that close to the head of the snake’s just as poisoned. Wouldn’t do to be all twitterpated ‘bout him.”

“I just said that’s not what that was!” Roland sputtered, face once again flaming. Batu threw his head back and laughed, Lofty quickly falling in with him. Roland groaned into the palm of his hand. Why? Why did he put up with this?

“Pardon me,” a voice broke into the raucous laughter. Roland looked up to find a Greenling watching them, their masked face unreadable. “But Master Niall wants tae see ya," the Greenling said, "Could ye spare a second for tae old man?"

"Of course!" Evan jumped back to his feet and dusted himself off. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll come with ye, lad,” Batu said, “There’s a question I been wanting to ask the old twighead.”

“It better not be about gambling, you big wally!” Tani called after her father as he, Lofty, and Evan headed off to Niall’s pond, leaving her and Roland behind. Batu just waved a hand through the air, his chortling laugh echoing back towards them. Roland shook his head and sat down, scrubbing a hand over his still warm face.

Somewhere, someone or something was laughing at him. He was sure of it.

“You’ve got a flower in your hair,” Tani said suddenly. He turned his head and found her nearly right behind him, holding one of the pale blue blossoms that dotted the area between two fingers. He blinked at her. “Must have been from the last fight.” She tossed it aside and eyed the back of his head for a long moment. Biting back a smile, Roland turned away.

"You know,” he said slowly, only half sure, “If you wanted to braid my hair, all you had to do was ask."

"I do not!" Tani sputtered, turning away with a huff. Roland held his breath, waiting quietly. A minute passed between them in silence, then.

"...You don't mind?" Tani asked quietly, her voice tentative. Roland smiled to himself and turned his back to her.

"Go right ahead." He'd seen Tani do up her own braids more than once while on the road, so he knew she was an old hand at this kind of thing. He didn't have nearly enough hair for her to pull off anything dramatic, but a simple plait would probably help with the knots. And maybe the getting leaves and twigs caught in it. "Just don't put any flowers in it."

"Awww..." Tani pouted. He could hear the laughter in her voice, however, and didn't feel too bad about spoiling her fun. "You're no fun, Roland."

Scooting up behind him, he closed his eyes as she gently pulled his hair tie free and started to work. Just like he'd thought, she was an old hand at this, and even without a brush or comb, she knew exactly how to make her fingers work.

"You've had practice, haven't you?" He asked her after a couple of minutes had passed.

"For as long as I could get my fingers to behave," She said with a snort. "If I wanted them, I'd have to do them. Can you see Batu doing anything more than a topknot or something?"

Even a topknot was a little bit much for the big man, honestly. Roland snorted quietly. "No. But I thought Gerel would have helped out?"

"She did," Tani said, "But just for a couple of years. By then I was too big to be having somebody doing my hair all the time, and she had the stores to mind so the others didn't make off with all the alcohol." She snorted again, dropping the braid and starting over. "Besides, she's like you. A little tie off and that's it. Nothing fancy, just gets it out of her face and that's it."

"And you prefer something with more style?" He asked. Tani's fingers stilled and he knew he’d been right the while time. He'd seen her cooing over a rack of pretty dresses in Goldpaw, and eying some very fine jewelry as they'd gone to find a meal before they'd left. It had been more than a pirate eying gold, it had been a little girl eying something pretty. Poor kid probably didn’t get much of that, living with pirates or on the road all the time.

"Well, yeah," Tani said slowly when Roland didn't follow up. "I like pretty things. Is there something wrong with that?"

What should have been a simple question was full of a defensive tightness. Roland tried to catch her eye, but she was too close behind him. Considering his words carefully, he made a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"Of course not," he said gently, "Liking pretty necklaces and pink dresses doesn't make you any less, Tani. You don't have to justify it to anyone, not even Batu."

Her hands stilled again. For a long minute, the silence stretched heavy between them. Then, with a sigh, she started up once more.

"I guess I just..." She trailed off, "I'm trying to keep up with the guys, you know? Make them treat me like I'm actually one of theirs and not just the Chief's daughter." She sighed. "So if I start showing that I like pink or something, they're not going to respect me."

"Then they're stupid." He said plainly, eye twitching. Tani made a startled noise. He continued, "Wearing dresses or flowers in your hair doesn't make you any less of a fighter. You're three times the fighter any of them are."

"Of course I am," Tani said smugly, then sighed again. "I just don't want to put up with the teasing, yeah? It's hard enough putting up with the whole," she pitched her voice up a notch, "'Mistress Tani, Miss Tani' thing all the flippin’ time." She let out a quiet scoff. "Sometimes I just want to punch someone and shout "Just call me Tani!" at the top of my lungs."

"So why don't you?" He asked, trying to catch her eye without turning his head. He still couldn’t. "There's nothing wrong with showing your strength."

Her hands stilled. Her voice grew distant, as if she was looking for something, "Really? You don't think that would be too much?"

"I think there's a time and place for every kind of approach," Roland said pensively, "But you know them better than I do. If they'd respond better to you knocking them flat than talking, well..." he shrugged one shoulder. "Bruises heal."

And if a couple of them deserved a punch or two, well, who was he to stop her from standing up for herself and who she wanted to be? Besides, she could already fight in a dress. That was impressive in and of itself! Tani laughed quietly.

“You know what?” She asked as she tied off the braid. “I don’t care what other people think. You’re alright, Roland.”

When the others returned a few minutes later with a new spell under Evan’s belt that meant they didn’t have to walk the entire way back to Goldpaw, no one commented on the low braid that swayed behind Roland’s head. Even so, there was no mistaking just how pleased with herself that Tani was, and when Roland reached back to check…

Well. Blue was his favorite color anyway. It wouldn't hurt to let the flower stay for a while.

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

[invisibleforts]

“Deep in thought, Mazirian the Magician walked his garden. Trees fruited with many intoxications overhung his path, and flowers bowed obsequiously as he passed. An inch above the ground, dull as agates, the eyes of mandrakes followed the tread of his black-slippered feet. Such was Mazirian's garden—three terraces growing with strange and wonderful vegetations. Certain plants swam with changing iridescences; others held up blooms pulsing like sea-anemones, purple, green, lilac, pink, yellow. Here grew trees like feather parasols, trees with transparent trunks threaded with red and yellow veins, trees with foliage like metal foil, each leaf a different metal – copper, silver, blue tantalum, bronze, green indium. Here blooms like bubbles tugged gently upward from glazed green leaves, there a shrub bore a thousand pipe-shaped blossoms, each whistling softly to make music of the ancient Earth, of the ruby-red sunlight, water seeping through black soil, the languid winds. And beyond the roqual hedge the trees of the forest made a tall wall of mystery. In this waning hour of Earth's life no man could count himself familiar with the glens, the glades, the dells and deeps, the secluded clearings, the ruined pavilions, the sun-dappled pleasaunces, the gullys and heights, the various brooks, freshets, ponds, the meadows, thickets, brakes and rocky outcrops.”

Jack Vance, Tales of the Dying Earth