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lectophile · 4 years

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Words of Wisdom: Crooked Kingdom

He had become a great beast, and yet that beast would devour him.

A card game is like a duel. It’s the little cuts and slashes that set the stage for the final killing stroke.

The really bad monsters never look like monsters.

Words like to ride the water.

Why build such monuments to death?

You’re a stolen painting...

I’m pragmatic. If I were cruel, I’d give him a eulogy instead of a conversation.

We meet fear... We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.

Better terrible truths than kind lies.

No, you’re the man who sits idly by, congratulating yourself on your decency, while the monster eats his fill. At least a monster has teeth and a spine.

Could forgiveness come if she killed not to survive but because she burned with living, luminous hatred?

You are forsaken. As you have turned your back on me, so will they turn their backs on you.

She could not pretend those words had been conjured by strategy or even animal cunning. The magic they’d worked had been born of belief. An ugly enchantment.

He felt free, dangerous, like lightening rolling over the prairie.

His only crime had been putting his faith in his son.

Trust but verify.

Because the law here is profit.

He feeds corruption with corruption.

Even better men can be bested.

Patience would bring all his enemies to their knees in time.

You build in safeguards for failures, but something in the safeguards ends up causing an unforeseen failure.

Never underestimate the public’s desire to get something for nothing.

We are not our fathers.

You don’t win by running one game.

He was just a boy fueled by a white flame of rage, one that threatened to burn the pretense of the hard-won civility he maintained to ash.

The Saints hear prayers wherever they’re spoken.

Praying and wishing are not the same thing.

Sometimes the trick to getting the best of a situation was just to wait. If you didn’t like the weather, you didn’t rush into the storm—you waited until it changed.

The silence between them was dark water. He could not cross it. He couldn’t walk the line between the decency she deserved and the violence this path demanded. If he tried, it might get them both killed. He could only be who he was—a boy who had no comfort to offer. So he would give her what he could.

But that debt is mine to pay.

...that fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.

You sink into trouble like it’s a warm bath.

I wait with open ears and a ready heart.

Your enemies are my enemies, and I stand with you against any foe...

There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.

Meeting you was a disaster, but I am grateful for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.

You aren’t a follower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.

He didn’t need to be popular to survive.

You were angry. Angry wears off. I needed you righteous.

There’s always a price to be paid for greatness.

Everyone can shoot, but not everyone can aim.

I cannot be anything other than what I am, and if my gifts can help people, then it’s my duty to use them.

What kind of mother would I be to my son if I hid away my talents? If I let fear be my guide in this life?

You knew what I was when you asked me to choose you... Do not now suggest that I be anything else.

No matter the height of the mountain, the climb is the same.

It was a planet and she was its moon.

What a luxury to turn your back on luxury.

You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are.

We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.

Our work is death, and it is holy.

You cannot fear death and be it’s true emissary.

But I ask no money for the lives I take. They are the jewels I wear. They are my glory in this world and will bring me honor in the next.

I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools.

We want to create something that outlasts us.

But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one.

When they backed you into a corner, you cut a hole in the roof.

But he couldn’t fix something he couldn’t catch a hold of.

It was all black desert, starless sky, barren earth.

That had been heat, fire, light. This was a cold flame, one that burned low and blue.

We are tied to the power of creation itself, the making at the heart of the world.

But maybe death wasn’t just one thing.

It came after the shipwreck, when the tide moved against you and the sky had gone dark. It was the first sight of land, the hope of shelter and even salvation that might await you on a distant shore.

The city had come alive, and it was angry.

There’s no time to constantly be apologizing for existing.

But when someone does wrong, when we make mistakes, we don’t say we’re sorry. We promise to make amends.

This action will have no echo.

Stop treating your pain like it’s something you imagined. If you see the wound is real, then you can heal it.

I’m dying anyway, I’m just doing it slow.

I love you with all my lying, thieving, worthless heart...

He’s the house. He has the resources to play until your luck runs out.

I can’t live in a city where I can’t hold up my head.

It was a mad, spiky monster of a plan, and that was what it had to be for them to succeed.

There was always an angle, and he was an expert at finding it.

Words have not been invented for such an occasion.

Every sin makes the shadow stronger, until eventually the shadow is stronger than you.

The distance between them felt like nothing. It felt like miles.

Violence was easy.

He clung to the tether of her voice.

It hurt to stand here like this, so close to the circle of her arms.

He ignored the sting in her heart.

He didn’t deserve peace and he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but if he was going to die today, maybe the one thing he’d earned was the memory of her—brighter than anything he would ever have a right to—to take with him to the other side.

He might as well go to meet his death in style.

Crazy enough, but not stupid enough.

This city’s price is blood, and I’m happy to pay with yours.

Why run from the amazing things you can do?

This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire.

Rich men want to believe they deserve every penny they’ve got, so they forget what they owe to chance. Smart men are always looking for loopholes. They want an opportunity to game the system.

The toughest mark is an honest one.

Sometimes, a proper thief doesn’t just take. He leaves something behind.

The dead will wait, but I won’t.

But this was different. This was decay.

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

So let’s go show them they picked the wrong damn fight.

Maybe she should feel ashamed, maybe even frightened. But she hadn’t been made for shame.

But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death.

She was the Queen of mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

It willl be your honor to serve me in death.

The blood you spill is the blood of kings. You are not fit for such a gift.

We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.

There is no shame in meeting a worthy opponent. It means there is more to learn, a welcome reminder to pursue humility.

She had chosen to live freely as a killer rather than die quietly as a slave, and she could not regret that.

Even now, n this last moment, she looked like a girl from a story, destined for greatness. She was a queen without mercy, a figure carved in ivory and amber.

May you make more than misery in your next life.

Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste.

Fate has plans for us all.

It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.

There’s so much in the world you don’t have to be afraid of, if you could only open your eyes.

Lightening doesn’t like a master.

Be free, as you were meant to be. Be a warrior, as you always have been.

I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way.

You will meet him again in the next life, but only if you suffer this now.

Funny thing, when you train an animal to obey, sometimes they get too easy to command. Better to keep them a little wild.

You don’t win by running one game.

You can only sharpen a blade so far. In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.

Loving you made him better.

He went easier into the next world knowing he’d done good in this one.

Laughing at my jokes. Forgiving me when I was foolish. Never trying to make me feel small. It doesn’t matter if it’s next month, or next year, or ten years from now, those will be the the things I remember when I see you again.

Try to catch hold of me and you’ll find you’re trying to hold air.

But it was one thing to be a thief in a house and quite another to be a guest.

He had been so much of her world for so long.

Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.

She’d need only move the smallest amount and they would be touching. He was that close. He was that far from reach.

She understood suffering and she knew it was a place she could not follow, not unless she wanted to drown too.

She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying.

Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And then people who wrong them too.

Her mind refused the image before her. This could not be real. It was an illusion, a false reflection, a lie made in rainbow-bird glass. She would breathe again and it would shatter.

The world was made of miracles, unexpected earthquakes, storms that came from nowhere and might reshape a continent.

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

You think you’re finished with a place, but that doesn’t mean the place is finished with you.

#crooked kingdom #grishaverse #grisha #leigh bardugo #Inejghafa #kaz x inej #kaz brekker #Rietvield #jordie #jasperfahey #wylandvaneck #wyland x jesper #nina zenik #matthias x nina #inej x kaz #matthiashelvar #smallscience #ketterdam #novyi zem

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arcanacouncilrp · 5 years

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event one - apr 30 - may 14

The World is missing.

News always travels fast around the Council, but never like this. Feiyan leaving without a word for more than one day to anyone is unthinkable. The chaos left behind in her personal quarters, even more so. By all accounts, she has vanished without a trace. Five days have passed without so much of an inkling of her presence.

before.

The Empress first noticed her several-day absence and roped The Tower into quietly looking for her when her concerns became too much to bear. The pair alerted Judgement when it became apparent they would not find her on their own. Though he searched for hours, Judgement found no sign of her on the astral plane. They called The Devil in for assistance, but every attempt to summon her produced much the same effect. Their last resort did little than fill Feiyan’s voicemail inbox to capacity. Even The Hanged Man’s lightning-fast search of The Lair and its grounds turned up few clues.

There was no mistaking it: it was time to convene the full Council.

The Fool and The Devil made quick work of bringing everyone together in the Council Chambers, where The World’s chair sat empty for the first time in centuries. Nervous chatter filled the room, dying down only when Justice called the meeting to order. Questions began to fly across the table. Where could she be? How do we look for her next? What if there’s more to this than we know? Wheel of Fortune immediately jokes, trying to ease worried faces with a dash of humor. The Sun, picking up on the tactic, joined in. Soon, the meeting descended into incoherent chaos.

One dissenting voice rose above the rest; Justice brought a different issue to attention, their voice booming across the room. Finding her and figuring out what was happening was important, yes, but they would never get anywhere without someone making decisions just as their missing Grandmaster should have been. How could they decide on a plan to find her otherwise? The Council dissolved into debate, dissonance reigning over the meeting. For some, it felt like an attempt to replace The World—for others, it was the only logical first step forward.

Something sparked within The Magician and The Emperor. Unbeknownst to them, they shared the same thought: who should be in charge? Who gets that power? Shouldn’t I get a say in what happens? The Magician was the only one of the pair who spoke the thought aloud. She held her chin high as her fellow Councilors bellowed their disapproval. Tensions rose, though a few Councilors had become preoccupied with something else.

For the first time in years, The High Priestess was not bombarded by the tempest of emotion in the room. The Hermit found herself abruptly ejected from the half-vision distracting her from the meeting. The Star lost touch with the light rainstorm over The Lair. The Lovers felt their stomach drop, their connection to The Chariot’s power shorting out in an instant. They looked to Temperance, but she too was at a loss—the onslaught of other powers against her consciousness had ceased abruptly, and not at all by her intention.

Startled, they vied for attention from their peers, but the argument developing among the others had escalated. The Magician fought with Judgement across the table, ignoring interjections from The Emperor and The Chariot. Spurred on by rising tempers, The Tower slammed his hands down on the table, fire in his eyes as he prepared to claim his birthright. Strength, ready to play peacemaker, jumped into the fray with Death and The Moon not far behind her, only to face the rude discovery of what the others had been trying to say:

magic was gone.

The ensuing panic only lasted a few minutes before powers around the table sparked back up like nothing strange had occurred. Worry lingered—this had never happened before. At least, not to their knowledge. If only The World was around to reassure them things would be fine… The unprecedented scare broke up the meeting as The Magician set off to check on her safeguards for The Lair, The High Priestess took to the library for clues, and Temperance took to the tech lab to find out what else they could learn. Those concerned with leadership reluctantly agreed that, for now, learning what they could about the outage took precedence.

now.

With The World missing emotions were already high, but now with the hiccup in magical connection, everyone is looking for something to do. Looking for answers. Looking for hope. Looking, even, not to be alone. Not to be scared or worried or confused.

Temperance retreats to her tech lab ready to dive into into the peace, quiet, and comfort of internet research and Council records. She does not notice Strength following behind, until she is settled. The latter insists on staying to help. They’re in this together after all.

The Magician left in a dramatic turn of annoyance, masking a buried fear of the state of her powers. Taking to the grounds to examine her illusions and wards, she does not notice The Empress also went outside to check in on the gardens, worried her temporary lost connection affected her sweet plants. Alone in the serenity of the greenery, they discuss the implications of the what happened.

Judgement was already perturbed by the mere premise of the meeting, so when magic faded, his frustrations skyrocketed. Needing all things to be supported by facts or evidence, he settles into the second floor lounge with a laptop and some journals. The Star, who had simply been wandering after the meeting, joins him out of desire to help find some answers but not knowing where to start.

Death is out of the meeting chamber and into the bar before most people have even registered the weight of what occurred. It is, after all, much quieter in there. Plus it’s fully stocked. His solace doesn’t last long, however, when The Sun arrives talking up a storm to hide his worry.

The Hierophant heads to her infirmary, since what she knows best is a comfort when she cannot have all the answers. She looks for a task to keep her busy, but doesn’t have to wait long. The Hanged Man appears looking for someone to pester which is his own way of hiding his worry. Instantly she has a test subject. Intense speeds must have a strange effect on the human body, right? What will happen if his powers go away for too long, or for good?

The Emperor and The Devil depart the meeting side by side. They both have their own reason to be frustrated at the power play Justice and The Magician attempted to play(not to mention the outburst The Tower had), so they procure some wine from the kitchens and talk away their annoyance.

Wheel of Fortune long since checked out from the dramatics of the meeting, lost in a daydream before he notices half of the others have already departed. A force of habit, he finds his way to the library, hoping he can get out of any form of responsibility. Unfortunately, The High Priestess has other plans for him. Help him research, or get out of the library.

The Fool suffers an immediate wave of “oh no” and “what if”. He pops up to his room in a blink, finding his half packed bag in the quarters Feiyan had offered to him and continuing to fill it. He’s almost home free, but The Moon peaks in the open door on the way to her own room, wondering what he’s up to.

Justice lingers in the meeting room, mostly to eavesdrop on whatever The Chariot and The Lovers are whispering to one another in the corner, but it isn’t long before the pair is gone as well, shoulder to shoulder. It takes a moment before he notices the ever-quiet Hermit, still perched in her chair. He suggests she go find The Tower, perhaps calm him down, maybe prevent him from destroying anything of value. Justice also lightly suggests she uses her gifts to see if any memories of The Tower’s offer any insight into where Feiyan might be. The Hermit finds The Tower fuming in his room.

Happy opening to our incredible deck of cards! We are so, so excited to start this journey with you! This is just the start, after all. Each of you has been giving a prompt to dive off the cliff with and a partner chosen by our Tarot decks in the hands of fate, but you are in no way limited to just what is laid out here! We wanted to get you out of the gates with thread pairings you may or may not have expected to write. Feel free to plot a series of actions beyond what you have been prompted to do, with anyone you like! We anticipate this plot to last roughly two weeks (through May 14th) with a task intertwined next week.

Happy plotting, and have fun!

#councilevent #event: world in the wind #event 01

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thebennettdiaries · 6 years

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timelines

Day 16 Prompt: cursed Characters: Bonnie Bennett, Damon Salvatore Note: whelp, I don’t even know but maybe strap in?

Bonnie is immortal.

For some (for him), immortality is a gift. It is a chance to make mistakes, to right them, to make new mistakes --- to fully embrace everything life throws at you without a care as to the consequences that come with it. Because after all, with eternity stretched out before you, no matter how bad things get this too shall pass.

For her, however, immortality is a curse.

Damon remembers the day it happened. She had been trying to help him (she is always trying to help him, even when he is beyond help). He had no idea what the other witch had said but he knew by the look on Bonnie’s face that it wasn’t good --- so he did the very first Damon thing he could think of.

He killed the witch

(and Bonnie’s chances of a normal happy life)

The fear in Bonnie’s eyes as the witch’s body falls lifeless to the floor will be seared in Damon’s mind forever. He had thought he had done a good thing.

She had soon explained to him why he had been so very wrong.

As far as curses go, this one seems like a doozy.

Bonnie is immortal (a fact that makes his heart sing at first). But she can die. It’s like pressing the reset button really. She dies. She wakes. The cycle starts all over again --- with Bonnie’s feet firmly planted somewhere in her timeline. He cannot predict just where in her life her mind has hurdled her back to. He has tried to figure out patterns, looked for triggers in her final moments. But he has found nothing to aid them in ensuring she doesn’t lose everything she has gained in her life thus far.

All he can do is watch her die and hope for the best.

(and boy, she wracks up a death count like no other)

Sometimes she is his best friend --- the one who stuck with him through one of his lowest points.

She teases him into a familiar banter. It borderlines between insults and affection. She threatens to cut him off at the knees if he makes her pancakes. She seems drawn to flannel, although she can’t quite pinpoint why.

She doesn’t know about the curse when she is his best friend. She has gone back too far to fully understand how her mind is pinning her into moments that have already happened to him. Don’t get him wrong, these are happy moments for him. Moments he cherishes. But he is beyond them. Beyond the friendship.

She is something more to him and it kills him that she doesn’t look at him the same way. He aches to touch her and sometimes, in his weakest moments, he does. She always gives him a funny look (one time she set him on fire as a reflex). She asks him if he’s drunk, or lonely. Or both.

He gets the message.

(sometimes when she is his best friend he feels a measure of relief when she dies --- he used to feel guilty for that but now not as much)

Sometimes she is the woman he loves (and who loves him return).

He is often tense in those moments between death and life. His entire body is tense as he hovers over her, wondering just who he will meet (and knows just who he wants...no, needs). He knows within the first few seconds of her new beginning. It shows in the way she looks at him. The way her hands reach up to cup his cheeks.

He always breathes a sigh of relief.

In some cases, she is not as in love with him as he remembers. He finds that he doesn’t mind that as much as he thought he would. It’s fun to court her again. To prod her along until the love between them is more equal (because let’s be honest, he will always love her more than she does him).

On one rare occasion, she woke as if she had only been asleep for a few minutes. They were able to pick up right where they left off. He had been bound and determined to protect her from death, to safeguard their progress. At times she had found him stifling but she knew why he did it.

In the end, they had fifty three glorious years. So much time.

But death always comes for Bonnie Bennett.

He had wanted to go with her that time. He couldn’t bare to see the look in her eyes when she woke.

Even though she still loved him --- it just wasn’t like before.

Sometimes she is the girl who is afraid of him.

It is strange to see the teenager looking out at him. Although Bonnie hasn’t aged a day since her early twenties, she looks impossibly young when her eyes are wide and full of fear. She remembers his face, the way his veins had bulged under his eyes. She remembers his fangs in the seconds before he had buried them in her neck.

He spends so much time trying to convince her that he is not that person anymore.

Sometimes she believes him. Sometimes he is able to do enough good to prove to her just who he is.

But even still, that fear still lingers in the back of her eyes.

Sometimes she is the woman who hates him.

This cuts the deepest. When she wakes, angry that he is even near her, he nearly breaks each time. She has good reason to hate him of course (he often wonders in those moments that she loves him how he has managed to pull it off). However, to see it so plainly written on her face; to hear in her voice (after everything) is too much for him. Unlike fear, her hatred can’t be reasoned with. It only grows louder, becomes more volatile.

He is not proud of himself but he has come close to killing her himself when she hates him. He reasons that when she wakes, she will be different. She will be his friend. She will love him. Or at the very least, she will be afraid of him and he can work with that.

He never follows through on these thoughts.

He can’t. He loves her far too much to ever do her any harm.

(and deep down, part of him is afraid that she will wake to some moment in her life and know that Damon Salvatore has killed her --- he can’t face her on a day like that)

Right now, she hates him.

Hates him so much that she can’t stand to look at him.

She has made it abundantly clear. With words. With magic. He has found himself at her mercy enough times to fear for his own safety (funny how he is immortal but he is worried that he might die). It is better that he keep a distance from her. Better that he step carefully and give her space.

Easier said than done of course.

He feels a bit like a stalker, watching her from afar. She probably knows he is doing it and resents him for it. He is clearly not helping his cause.

He finds himself at a bar, nursing a bottle. He wonders if he should just leave. At least for awhile. He has spent over a century with her as she dances around at various points in her life. And while there has been happiness, he does not know how to live in moments like this. Even before Bonnie, he had never been good with emotional roller-coasters. He is far too sensitive. Far too reactive. One day, he might do something he regrets.

Yes, maybe it will good for both of them if he just slips out of her life.

At just after midnight, with an empty bottle in front of him and a dream of a far off place, his phone rings.

Bonnie.

He hesitates before answering it.

“Damon?”

He can hear it now. She loves him. He has no idea what has happened to her. He finds that he doesn’t care. All he knows is that she loves him.

“Bonnie,” he breathes, his anger, his pain --- all of it melting away (had he really thought that leaving was a good idea?)

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” she tells him.

“I will be soon,” he tells her. He has to move fast. There is a part of him that is afraid that when he gets there the worst will have happened and she won’t love him like she does now.

As he leaves the bar, alcohol still shifting through his system, he realizes something that hasn’t before.

He’s cursed too.

#bamon #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #31horrificdays #horrificmemes

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imagine-loki · 6 years

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Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 49/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

Loki was still reclining against the pillows on the bed, absently petting your head in his lap. “Well, darling, now that that question has been settled, shall we get out of this saferoom? I’m sure we can go to the park or something so you can at least spend some time outside,” he suggested. He didn’t like that you had gone through all of this trouble to take care of him all month, especially to the detriment of your own needs.

You sat up and shook your head firmly, growling softly to shoot that idea down quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised that you were actually growling at him. “The question is answered correct? Surely it’s safe to leave. I know you’re in control of your wolf,” you shook your head more firmly and growled again, louder. You couldn’t leave the saferoom until dawn. He looked even more surprised at that. You really didn’t usually growl at him, but you had to make your point very clear this time. “Easy, little wolf,” he told you gently, running a comforting hand down your head and neck. He sighed. “Oh how I wish my telepathic abilities worked on you when you’re in this form,” he lamented, but you could see his excitement too. He loved the game of translate the werewolf, he had since the day you met. Unfortunately you only had three real answers for his questions: yes, no, and rephrase the question, so the game was frustrating on your end.

“It is safe to say I am not turning into a werewolf, yes?” you nodded agreement and licked his cheek. “Yes, yes, I love you too,” he told you, distracted by his game. You snorted in laughter. “But we cannot leave this room?” you nodded again. “You said the doors would not open again until dawn, but that is no issue,” you growled at that. Very insistent no.“Or maybe it is...” he said dryly. “Darling, I have magic, I can teleport us out of here...” You growled. Stupid god, you couldn’t leave this saferoom until dawn. “Something bad will happen if we leave before dawn?” he asked after a long pause. You nodded. He sighed. “Care to tell me what?” You lunged forward, but slowly enough that he would know that you were giving him an answer, and snapped your jaws around his arm, stopping before your teeth actually touched him. “We’ll be attacked?” he asked when you sat back again. You raised a paw and poked him in the middle of the chest. “Ah, I’ll be attacked. Our lovely teammates will decide if they see us before dawn that I am out of control and gotten past you and your safeguards?” you nodded and licked his cheek.

“Well that’s bothersome,” he replied, sighing heavily. “So how do I keep a bored little werewolf entertained all evening while she’s cooped up inside?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You weren’t that bad and could survive without playing outside on one full moon. He brushed out your loose fur for you, found a tennis ball to throw for a little while, and played a very short lived game of ‘which one’s Loki’ with a group of illusions. He wasn’t pleased when he got tackled on the first try. You could smell the illusions.

At around midnight he decided you were both hungry and made some of the cheeseburgers Tony had stocked the fridge with, just in case. There were also a pair of rabbits hidden in the main room, a sacrifice to be werewolf snacks, but they would get to survive the evening. Clint would be pleased. He’d been trying to rescue them all month. “Do you even like cheeseburgers in wolf form?” Loki asked as he was cooking them in the little kitchen. You wagged your tail and gave him a puppy yip of happiness. He tossed you one of the burgers without cheese, which was more preferable in wolf form.

Loki spent most of the night watching werewolf movies with you, reading and absently petting you while he did. He fell asleep reading a couple hours after your midnight snack, his fingers still wound in your fur, the book open in his lap. It was a nice quiet evening, not a typical full moon, but it was a pleasant evening nonetheless.

You woke to Loki wrapping a blanket around you. “Hmm?” you asked softly, not awake enough yet to open your eyes, even as Loki lifted you off the bed. You knew his cool touch, his muscled form extremely well and his presence didn’t rouse you.

“The saferoom doors have opened,” Loki told you softly, gently, cradling you safely in his arms. “Right after you turned human again. I do not wish to stay in this...cell any longer than necessary,” he added, a hint of anger in his voice.

You opened your eyes at that and whined softly. Some of the wolf habits hadn’t vanished all the way this time. It wasn’t surprising after a full moon where you didn’t go play in the woods and actually get to be all the way wolf for the evening. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered at him. “It wasn’t supposed to be a cell...” there were tears in your eyes. He should have known that you were an emotional mess when you were this tired. You’d worked hard on creating a safe space for you both and his words hurt.

“I know darling. Hush love, please don’t cry.” He bid you quickly. Omega tears tended to upset everyone around. “It was meant as a safety precaution to protect everyone, most especially me, and I appreciate that. But I have spent enough time in cells that even a safe room can make me uncomfortable,” he explained. “So let’s get you tucked into a real bed in a real bedroom so we can both rest easy,” he added softly. You sniffled, unsure and not completely convinced, but nodded and snuggled more comfortably in his embrace. He kissed your forehead.

“The team is waiting to see us,” you told him softly, remembering that you were supposed to tell him that message. The team wanted to know what happened last night. Thor most of all.

He sighed heavily. “Very well,” he grumbled. He just wanted to get you safely tucked into bed, but would put up with the others.

“They want to know you’re safe,” you told him sleepily.

“Sure they do, little wolf,” he told you sarcastically. You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“They do,” you told him simply.

He stepped off the elevator on the main floor. The entire team was waiting. Thor was pacing nervously and looked like he hadn’t slept all night worrying. He rushed over to the pair of you. “I was just about to come check on you. Stark insisted we wait until it was clearly past dawn,” Thor started babbling. He was nervous and worried.

You looked up at Thor from where your head was resting on Loki’s shoulder. You tried to give him a reassuring look, but you were too tired after your long night and the long month of preparations with little to no sleep that you couldn’t guard your words like you should. You should have let Loki just take you straight to bed. “Stop worrying, Thor. Loki didn’t turn,” you told him, trying to stop his worries. The sighs of relief in the room broke your heart. Yes, you hadn’t wanted Loki to turn either, since he hadn’t made the choice to, but you would have embraced him either way. Their open relief hurt, though. Would it have really been so awful if he had turned? Yes, it would. No matter how much the team seemed to embrace you, you were a still a monster...

“Don’t worry, he won’t be a monster like me,” you added, your hurt in your voice. That’s what they had all been concerned about. They didn’t want Loki to be like you. They didn’t want him turning into a werewolf, didn’t want him to be a freak and a monster too. “Loki, put me down,” you told him firmly, fighting back tears from your voice. You knew you were a monster. You’d known it all your life. It hurt to be reminded of that fact.

Loki was shocked into actually doing what you said and setting you carefully on your feet. You held the blanket firmly around you, sure your clothes weren’t appropriate as Loki’s spell was still only up to producing lingerie. The rest of the team rushed to try to reassure that they didn’t think you were a monster. “Guys, just stop. I know werewolves are monsters and your lies hurt my nose,” you told them loudly enough to be heard, but no louder, your voice was sad and haunted. The wolf was sad they still couldn’t seem to like her. Most of them hadn’t even seen you in wolf form outside of the heat of battle.

You stood up on your toes and kissed Loki’s cheek. “I’m going up to bed,” you told him softly. He nodded and kissed your forehead, seeming at a loss for how to help besides letting you get some sleep.

“Sleep well, Y/N. I shall hopefully be up shortly,” he told you warmly. You caught his use of your actual name, his purposeful reassurance that he cared for you and had accepted that the wolf was part of you. You decided to take the stairs instead of dealing with the elevator. “Let her get some sleep,” Loki was telling the others. “You all know how hard she’s been working this month. I don’t think she’s gotten a full night’s sleep since we visited that prison where she had been kept, she didn’t rest yesterday despite the moon fever, and you know her emotions and temper are off around the full moon,”

“I... didn’t know she felt that way,” Stark finally said.

“Of course you didn’t. She doesn’t advertise her own negative feelings. She stays bright and happy to her own detriment sometimes. She was abused for years for not giving peace to the pack and does not wish to lose the only home she’s ever had, so she hides behind that puppylike exterior you like to call annoying,”

“We didn’t-”

“We thought-”

You stopped eavesdropping and went up to your own bed, knowing your emotions would be back to normal once you got some sleep. Loki was right that the full moon messed with your temperament. Proper sleep now that you didn’t have to worry about Loki’s health should do wonders.

So why did you feel like curling up in a ball on your bed and sobbing your heart out?

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 49 #packless monsters

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writingmyselfout · 3 years

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Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Six

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1 2 3 4 5

Chapter 6: Just As Well Be Blind

Summary: A conversation.

MINERVA McGonagall is not at all surprised when during dinner, Albus asks her if she would join him for tea in his office later. She doesn’t need him to expand into the reasoning why, only agrees once she’s ensured that her prefects have the first years well in hand, she will join him. They discuss the upcoming school year briefly, he mentions some new ordinances the Board of Governors were considering, and just general things, but all the while she knows what he wants to discuss is one of her newest lions.

Once the students are dismissed, she goes to her Gryffindors, instructing the prefects to lead the first years up. She stands in the Great Hall as the students disperse, going off to find their own houses, and is equally unsurprised when Severus Snape comes to stand at her side. Neither says a word until the last of his Slytherins has gone down the hall leading to the dungeons.

“Mr. Potter has followed in his father’s footsteps,” is the first comment from the Potions Master.

“And his mother’s,” she reminds him. “Albus wishes me to join him for tea.”

Snape looks over at her. “To discuss the boy, no doubt.”

She nods her head in agreement. “Almost certainly.” She starts to head for the stairs, and he follows. “He and Draco Malfoy seem to have remained friends. I thought he might end up in your house after all.”

“Yes, well it may have been better for their friendship if he had,” Snape replies. “We both know they’re unlikely to remain friends.”

“You’re too much of a pessimist, Severus,” she admonishes. “They might surprise you.”

He looks unconvinced, but changes the subject. “Have you spoken with him about the stone?”

“Yes.” McGonagall’s frown makes it perfectly clear how that discussion went.

Snape notes it, and adds, “I take it he is determined to keep it here at the school.”

“He isn’t entirely wrong; it’s likely safer here than anywhere else,” she concedes. “But I’m not keen on the idea of bringing something to a school that is likely to attract dangers that might harm the students.”

Snape’s reasoning is different. For him, it’s just stupid to try to protect something that they would be better served to just destroy. It is the more logical solution, in his mind, and would save them all the trouble of having to worry about safeguards at all. He doesn’t share that, though, knowing the deputy headmistress is a true educator, through and through, whose students would always come first for her. He doesn’t quite share that passion.

“Yes, well, the man rarely thinks himself wrong,” he says instead.

“That’s the problem with rarely being wrong. You don’t recognize when you are.” They reach the gargoyle statue on the third floor that guards the entrance to the headmaster’s office and McGonagall gives it the newest password. “Curly Wurly.” The statue jumps aside, revealing the moving staircase up to the headmaster’s office, and McGonagall turns to her colleague. “Care to join us?”

Snape shakes his head. “No, but I admit to some curiosity. Let me know what happens.”

She nods her head in agreement then bids him goodnight as she heads up the stairs. She enters the circular room, eyes moving as they always do over the tables about. McGonagall recognizes the Pensieve tucked away in a recess between shelves of books. There is an identical recess on the other side of the room between more shelves, this one with a moon globe. The nearest window to that has a table next to it with a lunascope atop its surface, and some papers. The rest of the tables, of which there are probably about a half dozen or so in varying sizes, hold various silver instruments, many of which are constantly spinning or emitting the occasional puff of smoke, and almost all of them unrecognizable to McGonagall. She assumes more are for show than anything. Granted, Dumbledore knows many people, so perhaps some were inventions he’d been gifted or older magical items generally no longer in use, but her curiosity only goes so far as to wonder the point of having them, as she has yet to ever see him actually use any.

The man himself is standing at his desk, a pleasant smile on his face as she meets his gaze and he motions for her to take a seat across from him. There is a cup of tea waiting for her, steaming rising gently from it as she takes a seat.

“Thank you.” She picks the cup up, sniffs the pleasant aroma and takes a sip. She doesn’t say anything, curious as to how he’ll bring the subject up, and not inclined after this summer to make it easier for him.

He took a seat as she did so, and now picks up his own cup of tea. There’s quiet for a moment as they both drink some of their respective drinks, before he finally sets his cup back down and speaks. “I thought Harry might end up with you in Gryffindor. The boy would be the spitting image of his father were it not for having his mother’s eyes, and the scar, of course. Uncanny, the resemblance.”

“Of course. Although I’d say he favors his mother’s personality more,” she tells him. “Even made friends with one of the new Slytherin students. Can’t say that’s something James Potter would have done his first year.”

“I did see he was standing next to Lucius Malfoy’s son,” Dumbledore notes. “Friends, you say? I thought they had simply ended up next to each other coming in from the train.”

McGonagall nods her head. “Oh no, the boys met in Diagon Alley when Severus and I took Mr. Potter to get his school things. Hagrid got him an owl for his birthday, so I imagine they kept in touch.”

“Ah, interesting.” He seems to think about this for a moment, before he continues. “In any case, I wanted to speak with you on another matter concerning Harry. More specifically, his magical guardianship.”

McGonagall sets her cup down. “Yes? What about it?”

“I believe it would be in his best interest if I remained his guardian, considering his unique circumstances.”

“They’re hardly that unique,” she argues. “Hogwarts has had orphaned students before, and their Head of Houses have stepped in as magical guardians since the early days of the school. I am surprised, though, that full guardianship didn’t go to his Muggle family. Shouldn’t that have been the case, with the Ministry assigning someone to assist in any magic related circumstances, like helping them access Mr. Potter’s Gringotts vault and such?” She has had a month to wonder about these things. Nothing about Harry’s situation seems to adhere to how she knows these things are supposed to be handled.

“Minerva, you have met Harry’s family; would it have been wise to give them access to the Potter fortune?” She can’t argue that he has a point there, and he takes her silence as agreement so he continues. “Cornelius and I discussed it after placing him with the Dursleys, and since we had no way of knowing if Voldemort was truly gone, we thought it best to keep Harry’s whereabouts on a need-to-know basis so if he should return, the child would be safe.”

“And after? It has been a near decade, Albus. I have never understood the decision to leave him there indefinitely. There’s been nary a sign of him ; the Ministry could have resumed their responsibilities to the boy. Even so, James and Lily Potter surely named a magical guardian if he was going to end up with her Muggle family; why not have them check on him if neither you nor the Ministry could?”

Dumbledore sighs. “Unfortunately, Sirius Black was the appointed guardian. You know he betrayed the Potters. Even if he were not in Azkaban and therefore incapable of performing those duties, he clearly would be unfit to do so. There was no one else named, so I stepped in.”

It all sounds so reasonable, but McGonagall can’t help the feeling that things were not done the way they should have been, and thus Harry had suffered the consequences.

“Very noble of you,” McGonagall finally says, and if she sounds a little sarcastic, well, she is around children all day. “Well as you said, you’re a busy man. So respectfully, I think it best I take over his guardianship as his Head of House as I’ll have the ability to take on a more active role than your duties have allowed. Especially since as deputy headmistress, it is in the school’s best interest that you continue to be able to perform all your duties as headmaster. Unless there’s another reason you feel I am not up to the task?”

It is so rare for them to disagree like this, that she’s not sure she’s ever outright challenged him on something the way she is now. In fact, Dumbledore is no longer smiling at her, and instead seems to be studying her, taking her in as he forms a response.

Everything from her tone of voice, to the way she’s seated in her chair ramrod straight, to the very tilt of her chin makes it obvious that this is a challenge she will not back down from. Whether it’s the approach he’s miscalculated, or simply the level of which her visit to the boy’s family this summer upset her, he isn’t sure. One thing is certain, though, and that is that as he was not legally appointed by the Potters, he cannot override the old magical laws that govern the school and is upheld by the Ministry without additional intervention that would require the involvement of the Board of Governors, the Department of Magical Education, and either the International Magical Office of Law--which technically was also the Domestic Magical Office of Law--or the Wizengamot itself, if not both. It would turn into a grand spectacle and raise questions as to the necessity of it, and would it really be worth it in the end?

McGonagall meets Dumbledore’s piercing gaze, unmoved, and unbothered by the silence. Her intention is not to question his motives; the man is powerful, not perfect, and things were getting dark by the end of the war. Whether what he’d done was actually for the best is debatable, but she thinks he truly means it when he says he believed it was. It just wasn’t enough. After all, she had seen with her own eyes the conditions Harry had been raised in. On the surface, from the outside looking in, it seemed fine. But a closer look revealed an upbringing no child should have to endure, famous or not, whether magical or Muggle. It is unconscionable to her that Albus, her one-time mentor and friend, continues to make excuses as if she hadn’t already told him what her and Snape’s visit had revealed. That his pride would come before that knowledge, keeping him from seeing why things had to change for Harry’s sake, frustrates her to no end.

Finally, Dumbledore smiles at her. “I would never question your ability with any task, my dear. If you are certain, I will say no more on the matter.” With that, he picks up his tea and seamlessly changes the subject.

Story Notes:

Chapter title is from Billy Joel's "Honesty".

#Because I Could Not Stop for Death fic #BICNSFD #Harmony fanfic #HP fanfic #Harry Potter

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thechasefiles · 4 years

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The Chase Files Daily Newscap 6/2/2020

Good Morning #realdreamchasers ! Here is your daily news cap for Thursday February 6th, 2020. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Government Information Service (BGIS), Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

PM: NO PROMISES ON JOB LOSSES, TAXES – Prime Minister Mia Amor Mottley says she cannot give Barbadians assurances there won’t be more layoffs, or that taxes and fees will not increase. But Mottley, who is Minister of Finance, made it clear the administration “will not in any way topple the apple cart for individuals or companies”. The Prime Minister was responding to questions yesterday at the Barbados Chamber of Commerce and Industry’s luncheon at Hilton Barbados Resort. She explained that the big corporate tax cut meant that Government had $40 million less revenue and had to get funding in other ways. (DN)

IMF AUSTERITY DRIVE ‘MAY STILL NEED REVENUE’ – Prime Minister Mia Mottley has not ruled out the imposition of additional taxes and user fees for some services as the island continues under the austere International Monetary Fund (IMF) programme. Barbados Economic Recovery and Transformation (BERT) programme. “I am not going to give any assurance to anyone that there will be no taxes or fees. What I will say is that whatever increase there is will be justified on the basis on prudence [and] stability,” she told a gathering of the country’s leading business people at the first Barbados Chamber of Commerce and Industry (BCCI) luncheon for 2020 held with a packed house today at the Hilton Barbados Resort. Her comments came in the question and answer segment of the event after featured speaker Senior Technical Advisor to Government Dr Kevin Greenidge gave the assurance that the economy had been stabilized and promised that once Government stuck to the strict programme it should begin to see some growth. Mottley said she was satisfied her administration had “done the right thing” to date in order to put the economy on a path of recovery over the past 20 months. She pointed out that Government had allowed individuals and businesses to benefit under new corporate and income tax regimes and an extended reverse tax credit, while keeping the Value Added Tax (VAT) rate at 17.5 per cent. “It has meant however, that we have to look at aspects of our revenue collection because our corporation taxes are $40 million less than what they were at the end of December. With that, we are still on target because we made decisions to be able to increase our taxes on land assets and we have made adjustments to other things. We are pretty much steady,” said Mottley. However, she quickly pointed out that some fees that have not been “touched” for “20 years, 30 years and 40 years” were hampering the delivery of some services and would need to be reviewed in the coming months. “If we try to bring the provision of those services back onto the central Government, then this country will face continued erosion. And we are not going to do that at any cost,” she told the hundreds of business officials. “So I am not going to give any assurance to anyone that there will be no taxes or fees. What I will say is that whatever increase there is will be justified on the basis of prudence [and] stability. We are sensitive to the fact that we want to increase disposable income in this country because Governments don’t trade and don’t grow on their own. Individuals do and companies do,” said Mottley, without identifying which fees were likely to be changed or how soon. The finance minister made it clear however, that her administration would not be taxing businesses “out of existence” since that was counterproductive. She said in addition to stabilizing the economy, Government would be continuing with its transformation and improvements in efficiency. “So I can give you the assurance that the Government is sensitive to the condition of households and companies and will ensure that whatever decision we take with respect to revenue adjustment will not in any way topple the apple cart,” she promised. In relation to future layoffs in Government, Mottley said she could not give any guarantees there either, adding that “we cannot insulate everybody at all times for all reasons”. She said at this time the economy called for all hands on deck and an increase in productivity. In relation to concerns about the ailing ease in the doing business climate, which ws raised by President of the BCCI Trisha Tannis, Mottley disclosed that every month Government was picking apart the recommendations of the World Bank Doing Business Reports in an effort to make the necessary changes. However, she said some areas required a lot more work than others. In his presentation, Dr Greenidge pointed out that of the seven percentage points improvement in revenue that Government was expecting by the end of March this year, only two percentage points would be from tax receipts and the rest would come through efficiency gains on Government’s expenditure. “And that is even done in such a way to ease the burden. So we are shifting from direct to indirect taxes moreso, and research has shown that the indirect taxes like VAT and those kinds of taxes are more conducive to growth than direct taxation,” he added. In relation to the growth prospects, Greenidge said it would come through “sticktoitiveness” in the transformation of state-owned entities, improving Government efficiency and strengthening institutions, capacity building in the public sector and increasing productivity in the private and public sectors. “On the private sector side, your role is to invest,” he added, while insisting that now was the time to “buy up, build and expand businesswise” in order to grow this economy”. Dr Greenidge whose is on secondment to the Barbados Government from his role with the IMF, gave the assurance that the digitization of Government was “well on its way”, adding that public sector reform was also ongoing. He urged the business community not to panic, adding that all the key economic indicators were pointing in the right direction with the debt levels now down from 176 per cent of GDP to around 119.5 per cent of GDP at the end of December; reserves are up and the Barbados peg of BDS$2 to US$1 is protected. Pointing out that no country involved in an IMF programme had ever seen growth in the first year, he said it would therefore be unreasonable of any one to expect otherwise for Barbados. “That is why it is called austerity . . . I am not sugar coating it. There is no magic pill,” said Greenidge. “I can tell you that based on what we are doing, I am confident we are going to get growth this year if we continue to do what we are doing and continue to stay the course and do the transformation and the private sector continue to invest and do things,” said Greenidge, without given an indication of how much growth he was expecting. (BT)

PARTS OF HIGHWAY 1 AND 7 TO BE REPAVED – Two of Barbados’ most used roadways are in for major repairs this year. Highway 1 from the bottom of University Hill to the Methodist Church in Holetown, St James, and a section of Highway 7 in Christ Church, will finally be repaved. Prime Minister Mia Mottley made the announcement earlier today during the question and answer section after addressing the Barbados Chamber of Commerce and Industry luncheon at Hilton Barbados. No start dates were given. Mottley said most of the work on Highway 1 would be done at night because they were mindful of the fact that there are no access roads between UWI hill and Holders Hill. She said the water mains would be laid at the same time, so there would be no paving and digging up later. The Prime Minister said work would end at the Methodist Church because major construction was set to be done on the Royalton Hotel, so it made no sense extending the work to Trents. Restrictions will also be placed on heavy-duty vehicles at that time. They will use the Greenwich Village road which connects Trents to the Ronald Mapp Highway. Meanwhile, those who live and work on Highway 7 can expect roadworks “soon”. Mottley said that a section of that road, which runs from Bay Street to the Airport, was earmarked for repairs. She was not sure if it was the stretch from Garrison to Rendezvous or from Rendezvous to Maxwell, as she was awaiting final word from the Ministry of Transport, Works and Maintenance. The Prime Minster was at the time responding to a question from a member of the audience who asked if communities or companies could adopt roads and be responsible for their maintenance, thereby eliminating the pothole problem. Mottley acknowledged the roads were in terrible shape and nothing bad been done to them for ten or 12 years. (DN)

MORE LAWS COMING TO SAFEGUARD WORKERS – Amendments to existing legislation which will allow victims of violence or harassment at work to “remove themselves” from their workplace environment without fearing penalties from their employers are on the horizon, says Labour Minister Colin Jordan. He revealed that officials at the Labour Department were completing amendments to the Safety and Health at Work Act to clarify the channels through which workers can withdraw their services to escape “imminent or serious danger to life, health or safety” in the workplace. “We must make sure workers have the right to remove themselves from a work situation where they have a reasonable belief that the situation presents imminent or serious danger to life, health or safety due to violence and harassment and to be able to do that without suffering retaliation or other undue consequences,” the Minister declared. Jordan was addressing dozens of employers during a seminar hosted by the Barbados Employers Confederation (BEC) entitled Violence in the Workplace held at the Courtyard Marriott, Hastings, Christ Church. Acknowledging that some workers could abuse such legislative changes, the Labour Minister promised that structures would be implemented to prevent this. But during his near hour-long address, Jordan who is also responsible for Government’s social partnership relationship said the problem is so serious that new legislation may be required to address it. “[Workplace violence and harassment] is a serious multifaceted problem that affects not only its intended targets, but also colleagues, the entire workforce, households and families, and therefore, it impacts communities. This issue has long plagued our workplace, more so harassment and it is recognised as a health hazard,” added Jordan as he examined the International Labour Organisation (ILO)’s Convention 190 on Violence and Harassment in the workplace. While acknowledging that numerous pieces of legislation including the Sexual Harassment Act, the Safety and Health at Work Act and the Employment Rights Acthave improved workplace safety, he suggested that they have not sufficiently addressed the issues and suggested the possibility of drafting legislation to address the issue more directly. “We must also ensure that the inspectorate is empowered to take certain actions and make some determinations to protect workers because our job is to protect our workers in a fair and even-handed manner,” he added. The Minister further declared that the country could only realise much needed economic development if workers, “the most precious component” have access to “decent” workplace environments. “My Government has committed to not only protecting our workers but to developing those workers. This will safeguard the path to sustainable economic growth so badly needed to transform the country. “We must also be cognisant that violence and harassment can impact productivity, decrease worker engagement, contribute to a hostile work environment, increase the level of absenteeism and worker turnover and lead to a poor public image for the employing organisation,” the Minister explained. He added that violence and harassment at work could affect the psychological, physical, sexual health, dignity, family life and social environment of those affected. “Recognising the link between our workers and our economic growth and development, should compel us to fervently and actively address any issues that negatively affect them. It would be a wonderful day when employers take a proactive approach rather than reacting to things like laws and regulations and conventions,” Minister Jordan suggested. (BT)

EXTENDED HOURS SOON AT DAVID THOMPSON COMPLEX – From July 1, the operating hours at the David Thompson Health and Social Services Complex will be extended to 8:30 p.m. on weekdays. This was disclosed by Minister of Health Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey Bostic on Tuesday, at a media briefing on issues related to the Coronavirus, at the Ministry’s headquarters, Frank Walcott Building, Culloden Road, St Michael.While noting that Cabinet had approved the decision, he said the Ministry was contemplating extending those hours further to Saturday and Sunday because the polyclinic is closed on those days. “The polyclinic would normally close at an earlier time during the week. And, we are doing so for two reasons. One, transportation is vital to the utilisation of the facility, especially cross country travelling. People coming from St Joseph, St Andrew, St George need to be able to use the facility, and until we have the bus situation under control, it is prudent to do so rather than to go the full 24-hours.” The other reason, he stated, was related to the Ministry trying to ensure that there was diagnostic capacity at the polyclinic before commencing the 24-hour system. People would not have to go to Bridgetown to have diagnostic and radiological tests. Bostic added: “After the first of July, after we have been able to sort out the bus situation, then we will make an announcement as to the 24-hour service once we have had everything put in place in terms of getting those facilities at the polyclinic. For now, we are looking at extended hours from the first of July.” (BGIS)

FASHION WEEK COMING – There will be a Barbados Fashion Week, Minister of Small Business Dwight Sutherland has promised. But he has also urged designers to let Government help them form a fashion cooperative. The Minister was speaking at the Style Out Loud fashion show which was led by designer Cicely Harewood of CH Needleworks. He told the audience in the Daphne Joseph Hackett Theatre on Sunday night that the current administration will do all in its power to make the week a reality. Sutherland said: “I stand here tonight on behalf of the Government without speaking to the Prime Minister, but I know the Prime Minister is probably listening and she watches on; we will have such a week. He was responding directly to a previous conversation he said he had with Harewood who told him Jamaica had just celebrated a fashion week and she had been asking for one for many years. But the Minister for Entrepreneurship issued a challenge to the apparel industry to do its part to ensure the future of its livelihood. He declared: “I challenge all the fashion designers – stop me from wearing Robert Graham; let me Style Out Loud with a Barbadian fashion designer. “Help us as we seek to form more bilateral agreements with the African Nations, Suriname and even the US. “Help us through our vision for style, through our vision for skills, through our vision for empowering and enfranchising this industry that will be supported by working class people such as Ms Harewood and the others. Help us to build out this sector. “Help us to revive the apparel industry and the fashion design industry that is driven by international foresight such that when we design a product someone from the US, Robert Graham can want to copy it.” The small business minister suggested that through overseas linkages, Bajan clothing could be exported all over the world. Sutherland said: “We can send it to Ghana… Kenya… Europe with the names Cicely Harewood in the back. “We have what it takes when we come together as a people and this Government will create the enabling environment that our businesses will continue to flourish next year or two years from now when I come to the week of fashion I can boast we have truly arrived on the global stage.” A number of cooperatives had already been formed, said Sutherland, also the Minister for Cooperatives, as he urged the designers to get on board. He added: “My ministry has in it a section called the Cooperatives Department. “We just formed in the year 2019 five cooperatives. There are mostly in the transport sector. “Those working-class people who join together to provide a service to the Ross University students; they form a cooperative. “Those retrenched workers from the Transport Board came together and formed a transport cooperative led by the Barbados Workers Union. The Minister said that new cooperatives were also benefitting from exporting their products across the region. He said: “Recently the artisans and builders of Barbados… cried out loud for not having their fair share of the local market justifiably so they formed a cooperative and there were two other transport cooperatives along with one other cooperative which make[s] products such as soaps… shoes and some are exporting to the Caribbean region.” (BT)

GOVT 'ON BALL' WHILE BAJANS STOCK UP – Health Officials say they are “on the ball” regarding preparations for the coronavirus should it land here, but Barbadians appear not to be taking any chances and are flocking to stores buying up masks and hand sanitisers. Pharmacist-in-charge at Massy Pharmacy Warrens, Bernard Bailey, said they had sold more than 700 masks over the past three weeks. He said these, along with hand sanitiser, were in great demand. “It’s a good thing because people are being proactive; you don’t want the virus to arrive and you’re scrambling,” he said. A representative of Pharmacy Sales Caribbean Inc., based in Friendship Terrace, St Michael, said Barbadians had been demanding the masks in such great quantity they had to order more, adding another shipment was in the Bridgetown Port waiting to be cleared. Another pharmacist also reported last night that Collins Pharmacy was also out of masks. During a media conference yesterday, Minister of Health Jeffrey Bostic gave an update on Barbados’ position concerning the virus following an emergency CARICOM ministers of health meeting on Monday. (DN)

LESSONS FROM MANGROVE FIRE – Once the three-day fire at Mangrove Landfill is fully extinguished, local fire officials will be knocking on the doors of the Sanitation Service Authority (SSA) with a number of recommendations aimed at minimising the risk of future blazes and improving the response if they do occur. Among them is a suggestion from Chief Fire Officer Errol Maynard that the SSA establish formalised arrangements with private waste haulers to tackle future fires. “Whenever we get a fire, private haulers including Jose Y Jose, SBRC [Sustainable Barbados Recycling Company] and other private waste haulers join together and assist. “As far as I know, there is no formal arrangement written or signed. They do it out of the goodness of their hearts, I suppose. But when we sit and discuss with the policymakers, we will see if we can formalise an agreement. But until then, I wouldn’t want to say more about that,” he told Barbados TODAY. Maynard made the disclosure as two fire tenders, six fire officers, a dozen private trucks and two from the SSA attempted to permanently extinguish pockets of burning tyres still sending fumes into the communities below. On Monday, Environment Minister Trevor Prescod admitted that more fires should be expected as authorities pursue long-term solutions to the troubling issue as the landfill accepts 8,000 tyres each month. But Maynard however suggested that much of the SSAs efforts should also be aimed at improving management of the site in the short-term “I don’t know to what exactly the Minister was referring… what I can tell you is that yes, there is a possibility of fire of any such facility. Nevertheless, we have to make sure that there is constant management and proper vigilance on the site to ensure that even if a fire starts, it can be contained as quickly as possible. “And we will have some recommendations to present to policymakers to advise them on what should happen at these facilities, but we would have to make those recommendations to the policymakers first before we make them public,” he added. Late Wednesday afternoon, he reported that most of the hot spots at the Mangrove Pond landfill were covered, while others have been “contained, but not extinguished”. On Tuesday, the fire, which started on Monday flared up at the Mangrove Pond dump when a bush fire started at the northern end of the landfill ended up on the southern side, igniting tyres, which had not been affected by the original blaze. Fire fighters were also battling a lack of topsoil to cover the hotspots, broken down vehicles and uneven terrain. On Wednesday, those problems had reportedly been solved, but the Fire Chief was very reluctant to provide a definitive timeline because there were “too many surprises in this particular fire”. (BT)

STENCH IN LICORISH VILLATE – Garbage is piling up in a section of Licorish Village, My Lord’s Hill, St Michael, but not because there are no Sanitation Service Authority (SSA) trucks available. Residents say it is because the workers are refusing to pick up their trash after one of them was splashed with human faeces recently. Desmond Weekes, who lives in the area, said it was the second time such an incident had occurred. “The first week, the man discover it, but he still take it up. Then, the second week when the [compactor] was rolling, it burst. He called me and say this is two weeks that this thing happening,” Weekes said. (DN)

MUM OF TWO WANTS A HOME – A St. Michael mother who lost everything to fire is appealing for help. Simone Bynoe, 36, is now living with a sister in Dunlow Lane, The City, after her home in Henry’s Lane was reduced to a burnt pile of rubble. “The fire happened August 3. My house burnt down as well as my sister’s who lived next door, and now we all live by my eldest sister down the road. It’s me, my two sons and four others living with her and her children, so it’s cramped. I would like to have a place to live where we can live comfortably,” she said. (DN)

TEEN ARRESTED IN CONNECTION WITH HOLDER’S DEATH – A seventeen-year-old boy has been arrested and charged with the murder of Shakeem Holder. He is Tyreke Delandre Benskin, of Promenade Road, Bush Hall, St Michael. Holder, 22, was fatally wounded in an altercation on Sunday in the same district. Benskin is set to appear at the District A Magistrates Court tomorrow. (DN)

MAGISTRATE WANTS TO KNOW ABOUT GREENE’S LIFE BEFORE SENTENCING – Eighteen-year-old Justin Shemar Greene who went on a burglary spree last month “needs saving” and is “not entitled to walk about” for the time being, Magistrate Douglas Frederick has said. The District ‘A’ Court magistrate made the comments after the Greene’s attorney Martie Garnes made an application for bail on his behalf as he awaits sentencing. The teen who lives at Ridgeway, Pine, St Michael had earlier pleaded guilty to entering the home of Crystal Trotman on January 5 as a trespasser and stealing an $85 gas bottle and on January 28 stealing a $400 television as well as a $400 laptop. He also admitted to damaging a $550 window belonging to the complainant who is his neighbor. Greene further confessed to entering the home of Seon Jacobs on January 31 and stealing a quantity of food items worth $35.59; taking two batteries worth $500 belonging to the Sanitation Service Authority (SSA) on January 30 and stealing $535 cash – “lotto money” – belonging to Cynthia Gooding on January 13. He however told Magistrate Frederick he was not guilty of the charge of stealing a $480 battery belonging to the SSA on September 26, 2019. In many of the cases the complainants left their homes secured only to return to discover that they had been burglarized. Greene’s lawyer in addressing the court described his client’s offences as “opportunistic crimes” adding that they were not planned. “He is 18 years old and has lived a very unfortunate life. He is currently using cocaine and “you do things that you don’t usually do”. Garnes said he committed the acts and sold the items in order to feed his habit and help his mother. “He is not a person of bad character,” he told the court. The lawyer requested that his client be given the opportunity to go to Verdun House but Magistrate Frederick told him “We are not there yet.” Frederick explained that a report on the first-time offender was needed in order to get an indication of how to assist him. “He can’t go home today because he is on a rampage. Although he is a first-time offender a pre-sentencing report is needed,” the magistrate stated. But Garnes added: “Psychi [Psychiatric Hospital] will be a better place to send my client than prison” causing the magistrate to explain why a social inquiry was critical at this stage. “He is on a spree that we need to save him from. We need to find out what is the root cause. He is a first-time offender but he is not entitled to walk about because of these crimes,” Frederick added as he called the young offender’s mother to the stand. “He is not a bad person,” said the mother who revealed that Greene had been using cocaine from age 15. She also disclosed that she had tried to get him help before He has been remanded until March 5. (BT)

SENATE ACQUITS TRUMP - President Donald Trump was acquitted on Wednesday in his U.S. Senate impeachment trial, saved by fellow Republicans who rallied to protect him nine months before he asks voters in a deeply divided America to give him a second White House term. The businessman-turned-politician, 73, survived only the third presidential impeachment trial in U.S. history - just like the two other impeached presidents - in his turbulent presidency’s darkest chapter. Trump now plunges into an election season that promises to further polarize the country. Trump was acquitted largely along party lines on two articles of impeachment approved by the Democratic-led House of Representatives on Dec. 18, with the votes falling far short of the two-thirds majority required in the 100-seat Senate to remove him under the U.S. Constitution. The Senate voted 52-48 to acquit him of abuse of power stemming from his request that Ukraine investigate political rival Joe Biden, a contender for the Democratic nomination to face Trump in the Nov. 3 election. Republican Senator Mitt Romney joined the Democrats in voting to convict. No Democrat voted to acquit.o give him a second White House term. The Senate then voted 53-47 to acquit him of obstruction of Congress by blocking witnesses and documents sought by the House. A conviction on either count would have elevated Vice President Mike Pence, another Republican, into the presidency. Romney joined the rest of the Republican senators in voting to acquit on the obstruction charge. No Democrat voted to acquit. On each of the two charges, the senators voted one by one on the Senate floor with U.S. Chief Justice John Roberts presiding. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and other Republicans engineered a stripped-down trial with no witnesses or new evidence. Democrats called the trial a sham and a cover-up. Trump called the impeachment an attempted coup and a Democratic attempt to annul his 2016 election victory. Throughout the impeachment drama, Trump and his Republican allies kept up their attacks on Biden’s integrity. It remains to be seen how much political damage that inflicted. In the first of the state-by-state contests to determine the Democratic challenger to Trump, Biden placed a disappointing fourth in Iowa, according to incomplete results from Monday’s voting. Biden has accused T Trump faces no serious challengers for his party’s presidential nomination. He is poised to claim the nomination at the party’s convention in August and previewed in his State of the Union address on Tuesday campaign themes such as American renewal, economic vitality and hardline immigration policies. Romney, the 2012 Republican presidential nominee, broke with his party to vote to convict Trump on the abuse-of-power charge. Romney called the president’s actions in pressuring Ukraine to investigate Biden “grievously wrong” and said Trump was “guilty of an appalling abuse of public trust.” “What he did was not ‘perfect,’” Romney said on the Senate floor, as Trump has described his call with Ukraine’s president that was at the heart of the scandal. “No, it was a flagrant assault on our electoral rights, our national security and our fundamental values. Corrupting an election to keep one’s self in office is perhaps the most abusive and destructive violation of one’s oath of office that I can imagine.” Romney, a moderate and elder statesman in his party, paused during his speech as he became choked with emotion after mentioning the importance of his religious faith. (Reuters)

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theindependentjournals · 5 years

Text

BUNNY & DUCKY

BUNNY

SUN- PISCES 20

A perfect black cube sits lone in the desert.

Isolation. Uniqueness that becomes separative and self-referential. Exquisitely designed to be only a certain way and not any other way. Preserved against rust or corrosion. Maintaining standards, priorities, what seems to be the given. Yet something is wrong. It is true that all lies within and that turning yourself into what you are not is ultimately absurd. But you are not listening, not paying attention to the subtle clues. You are so intent upon self-consistency that you have tuned out far too much in the process. And this shall call forth lessons and hard experiences to crack you open again, and to give you a chance to discover afresh what can be when nothing is assumed and nobody has set anything up ahead of time.

MOON - LEO 1

A divorced husband and wife enjoying each other’s company.

The little ego desires what it does not desire, needs what it does not need. It goes after most avidly what it later finds is so very different from what would be good to have. But then things turn again and even the most unconscious patterns reveal their redemptive glory. It all depends on where you are along the spectrum: the initial expansion, the inevitable contraction to follow, or the tempered and seasoned expansion later. In the middle point, it can be hell. But things start out so amazingly and they end up as such a gold mine of experience and self-understanding from all this. Much of life is midstream and involves meeting shadows, enduring reversals, and basically being forced to go absolutely everywhere you never wanted to go. The reason it comes out right in the end is that you move through all of it and discover there is somebody in here who knows how to do that and who remains unscarred, not even discouraged, and is just waiting for the next opening to take up the Earth’s schooling in the way that fiery souls invite and welcome, strangely enough.

AQUARIUS 23

Ancient runes carved at random on gray rocks.

Learning ultimate things the hard way. You have to put yourself totally into every realm to experience it for yourself, with a zeal for empirical wisdom or the wild edge of the scientific method. The experimental test case is yourself. And you are out there all alone in vast, uncharted territory, just the way you like it. You’ve been granted the chance to prove things, to follow them out quite far, bearing a determined intelligence with karmically-trained faculties of subtle perception. However, objectively speaking, this is an intensively arduous and relentless way to do it, without safeguards or precedents, relying upon the moment’s edge. If you can be tirelessly strong, doing it this ruggedly will prove to be the only way to go if you wish to uncover future territory without imprinting bias or distortion upon it. You just have to invent the wheel in yet another dimension.

ARIES 17

A bodiless head asleep on the beach.

Cast into exile, sworn to silence. Held to an ancient code to be a watcher, a perfect witness to the inward reverberations of all things. Outward events and experiences are gone, mean nothing here. All that counts is to sense into things, to remember the essence and to know the forgotten worlds. It is a lonely vigil, a strange destiny, with a piquant flavor of sorrow mixed with exultation. What others are happy with is far out of reach, unimaginable. Yet what so many others miss and are put off from is here vividly, vibrantly indwelled every moment, which sweetens the bitter cup and allows the greater task to be taken up with a surrendered will and a quiet, inward repose.

AQUARIUS 24

A large brown bear picking and eating apples.

Gross indulgence and a conscience that just won’t quit. Saturating your energy field with exaggerated gestures of capitulation to your own lower nature. But you do this in continual ironic juxtaposition to an observing intelligence and a keen conscience which deplore and have no use for your own shenanigans. Being split between the compulsive and addictive personality and the dispassionate and icily-removed consciousness. You’re trying to turn yourself around by alternately bingeing and reforming. But each binge triggers a reaction of the other side of mind, and each renunciation and reformation in turns triggers a further reaction. This dialectic between being bad and being good is all on the pro and con level of the dualistic mind. The only hope in this pattern lies in wearing out both ends, so that a third place can open in which neither acting out nor becoming exemplary is all that necessary. You do what you do and you see it the way you see it and all the self-conscious overlays and each and every self-manipulation in whatever direction dissolve when the space is clear.

LEO 28

Men doing gymnastics.

Physical, material existence in a sturdy body in time and space is the greatest agony and the greatest ecstasy that could ever be. It is agony in that you are so weighed down by the gravity of things, sorely troubled, heavily impacted, just about immobilized. It is ecstasy in that you can do so much with it, and when you mobilize yourself to take hold of the body and wield it as an instrument and a vessel, the physical turns into a masterpiece, a wonder, a delight unsurpassed. You experience the heights and depths of ambivalence toward incarnation and embodiment, feeling both repelled and attracted by the core drama of life in this Earth. When you feel good, everything glows with promise. When your life-force ebbs and becomes stagnant, the world is saturated with abysmal dread. Learn to harness embodied selfhood into something more constant and satisfying, even with repeated bouts of coming up against resistance, and habit dying hard. Rigidity versus fluency. You have a creative dilemma with so much growth, outlasting your own inner enemies and becoming Earth-worthy in the physical—triumphantly and with lasting imprint.

ARIES 12

An old woman hears the stars talking to her at night.

Soul gifts from the morning of the world now turning into treasures untold. A quality of being, a presence, an aura which fills the world. You are the microcosm here and now for so many worlds. There is wonder and awe, discovery and an odd echo of fate. All of this has happened before; nothing is new. A twilight state. The repeated awakenings, and yet still dreaming on. Majestic vistas. So much to conceive. All exists inside. Yet in the secrecy of the heart, no clues are offered. All remains bare and stark.

VIRGO 27

The magician disrobes. He has no sex organs.

We bear a dream within us. In that dream, we can magically disperse every partisan consideration and make the truth a commonsensically shareable thing. We endow that dream with more of ourselves than any outwardly existing realities. Slowly we foster its seeds. There just must be a way to find the common point, to no longer be jerked around by gender politics and all the other antibrotherhood, antisisterhood currents. So we endow the dream with our heart’s aspirations, and when we give our all to it, the dream comes true. But until that point, we are worlds apart from others in harboring the dream of our coming reunion with everybody.

SCORPIO 26

A she-wolf. Her udders full of milk.

Bearing within you something vast and wild and true. Your instincts given over to this seed. What can be must be impels sacrifice and renunciation. Being held in the grip of vast, primordial forces. Taken over by depths that forge new worlds into being. Stunned into submission. Unconsciously obsessed with something that lives within you and cannot be forgotten. Supercharged with energy. In tune with the Earth’s cycles. Everything happening in a magnified and hypnotic atmosphere. The hidden worlds take charge. Individuality is eclipsed, and the surge of power dominates consciousness and life by its intensity and ruthless current right through the body, and there is nothing to say about it.

VIRGO 21

Dark river and distant bell.

So much to be done. So many fragments to move with. Such a confounding. The one inside is calm and quiet, poised and accepting, knows what shall be. The one outside is frantic with events and experiences which do not add up. Severe conditions to test the soul and give the mind quite a scare. The process is to keep going into it a little further, despite yourself, and to keep losing who you thought you were in the bargain. But there is somebody to be when there is nobody left to be, and only then.

PISCES 28

A hoard of monkeys chattering.

Possession by local spirits in mischievous, playful fashion. Cast into an abyss. Dumped out of status and specialness and made to be hyper-receptive to whatever is moving here—an abandoned center, karmically sacrificed to learn both humility and the lessons of the street. The state of mind random, chaotic, inspirational, capricious, given to every kind of spirit passing through. Sorely troubled, yet fantastically out of touch. A regressive loop with powerful emanations. The feeling is that something must be done and that this will require a change of heart. But you gotta go deep, and it takes a whole lot of desperation to turn this one around.

ARIES 20

An empty courtyard.

Nothing is left. Reality is scattered. Self-obliterated. The familiar rendered irrelevant. Apocalyptic changes, personal and collective, take over. No being, only action. You become a projectile of intent, literally identify with what you can do now. A barren wasteland of an inner world. A thrust outside. Stark and surreal. You feel compelled to dare, pushed over the edge, no going back—destiny as frenzy. And in this wild, volatile mix, creative forces are released that would never come out any other way. Yielding to the role of the purging and cleansing agent of changes, you are unable to wriggle out of anything ever again.

DUCKY

LEO 29

A broken sword.

Consecration to a higher power. The giving-over of the personal will--the marvel of root change. Coming to the end of your own path, and it is just the beginning of the greater way. The heart must open. The infinite must be born inside. The destiny-necessity is there--so much karmic backlog. So many ways to be right and to be wrong. The realization in the very midst that there is nobody listening to the old tale and everybody is awaiting somebody else to come through. A profound and utter doorway into a great unknown. What has been is finished. What shall be is so very different. And what is now is a question and a prayer and a destiny that must find its redemption.

PISCES 10

An old witch on a windy promontory. She is calling to the sea.

Wildly tuned in. Staggeringly aware of the overall situation and its call, you respond deeply and with earnest, plaintive engagement with all that is happening. You are profoundly emotional, physical, and personal in order to ground and focus a vaster attunement, urgently and critically mobilized at hot spots. Assigned to tune in to everything and make sure all the cosmic bases are covered--inner-planes activity predominates. You live within vast worlds, and are psychically charged with all that is being taken in, but your central focus is to respond, to report, to send the inner messages, to keep the lines open. Emergency and crisis sensibility inside of things, searching for signs, and knowing how to be there on the spot to turn things around by inward force of the magical will.

VIRGO 8

A man thinking up names for colors.

The mind is a hilarious thing. It populates the world with its many ideas on top of what is there and then can no longer see things in themselves in their pristine light. We trade direct experience for a culturally rich consciousness. This mental set is marvelously intricate and detailed. Becoming conversant with the human sphere takes up all your time and energy, drawing you ever further into complexity, multiplicity, and appreciation for the beauty and the brilliance of the best in culture and civilization. The refinements and elaborations are infinite in scope. You become an expert, a central force, an adept in working the mind's magic. In the largest picture, this is a perfecting of human intelligence in its concrete, penetrating power, combined with its far-ranging spread into variety and universal brotherhood. It remains narrow-spectrum, rational throughout, but does this up the best it can be done and a little bit better.

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feynites · 7 years

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I'm not sure if it's ok but I was wondering if we could see ♖ for Kel/Olwyn please?

Hair washing, Fen’Sulahn AU Edition!

Olwyn always had very lovely hair.

Thick and curly. Prone to frizzling with very little provocation, though she had always seemed to have some mixture or treatment or another that solved that particular problem. Most of the elves in Clan Lavellan had thick hair, though some sported finer locks. Hunters and warriors tended to keep theirs short, though, and Kel had never been an exception to that rule. There were a number of reasons for it. But, an important one was that cutting one another’s hair was a bonding practice between the two groups. Warriors tended to stay with the clan, to safeguard it, acting as sentries and a last line of defence in case of disaster. Hunters, on the other hand, tended to roam. Covering a wide range of territory, making sure to rotate hunting grounds to keep from over-taxing an area. But when the clan travelled, both groups worked together to keep everyone safe. Community and coordination were important. Trusting someone with a blade at your back was easier when you had already trusted them with one behind the soft skin of your ears.

Kel had missed some of that contact, with the Inquisition. She had been wary of welcoming any humans close, and many of the elves around were expected to maintain a respectful distance between themselves and Herald, and then doubly so with the Inquisitor. She had done Scout Harding’s braids, once. And helped Sera trim her bangs, though Sera had troubles sitting still, and had insisted that it didn’t need to be straight, and finally taken the scissors from her and finished the job herself. Clearly uncomfortable with contact.

“There. Done,” she’d insisted. Kel hadn’t brought the subject up again; she knew some elves who had a great deal of trouble let others cut their hair, or bring anything sharp so close to their eyes and ears. Not all hunters and warriors participated in the tradition, and only some of them declined out of vanity.

When her own hair started growing out, she’d taken care of it herself. Olwyn had found her at it, not long after the incident with Sera. Asking Sera to reciprocate had seemed chancy, and Olwyn herself obviously preferred her hair long.

“Why don’t you grow it out?” she had wondered. Not accusingly, at least. She had settled, tentatively, beside Kel. Wearing her orange robes; the ones that always made her look like a flower that had caught fire. “I have conditioners and oils that would keep it healthy.”

“I know some recipes for such things, too,” Kel admitted, carefully moving her razor-sharp blade over the too-long hairs by her temple. Doing the back, that was going to be the challenge. “But I hate the fuss, and I like a light head.”

Olwyn had nodded, accepting, and Kel had wondered for a moment if she might not find long hair more appealing. Something to touch, something to frame the face... she hesitated, just a little, on the next stroke of the knife.

“May I help?” Olwyn asked.

The offer stilled her even more.

“Do you know how?” she couldn’t help but wonder. Olwyn only laughed, though.

“Of course! Circle mages can keep their hair however they please, though most Tranquil have it shorn. And I myself have changed styles a few times over the years. There was a time when I had it shaved all around the sides of my head, with the top braided. It was considered fashionable,” she explained, and held out her hand for the knife. An unhurried request.

Kel relinquished the blade, more relieved than not.

Olwyn’s hands had been very careful, and her movements steady as she put her scalp back in order. She had fussed a bit afterwards, too, producing a bottle of sweet-smelling salve from one of the pouches at her belt, and rubbing it across Kel’s scalp. It had tingled, pleasantly, and the next time her hair had started to get long, she had felt no hesitation in going to Olwyn for help. Hunter, warrior, mage - in the end, what was important was trust.

Fen’Sulahn has more beautiful hair than the Olwyn she recalls. Shining, gorgeous curls, often accentuated by glittering jewellery and decorations. It never seems to frizz. Never lacks for care. Kel once broke a brush handle in Olwyn’s hair, by accident, when they were recovering from a trek into the Deep Roads. She cannot imagine doing the same thing to Fen’Sulahn’s hair. It makes her angry, in a strange, petty sort of way, that it is so beautiful, all the time. Makes her wonder if Olwyn missed it a great deal. Missed this a great deal. Having jewels and servants and subjects, and hair that never frizzed.

What a thing to burn a world for.

Kel tries not to glare at the rubies strewn through her curls. Fights the urge to reach over and pull them all out.

Olwyn’s hair had been a wreck, at the end. Burnt and ash-strewn and heavy around her face, as she carried Kel determinedly towards the fold in time. As she stumbled.

Died.

Fen’Sulahn comes back from a hunt with her aunt. An event which has half the hounds and many of her entourage leaving, and Kel itches to go, too, but even the people who don’t much like her seem emphatic that she not be introduced to Andruil or her hunters. That doesn’t make Kel worry any less, even as she finds the absence of a good number of Fen’Sulahn’s people opens up more of her palace to be explored.

When the party returns, they are exhausted, and Fen’Sulahn is angry. Kel knows that face. It’s the same face Olwyn wore when she caught a visiting noble at Skyhold kicking one of the hounds. The same face she wore throughout a good deal of their visit to Halamshiral, and their treks through the Emerald Graves. When they found a memorial to ancient elven knights that had been defaced by Orlesian vandals.

The healer, Sympathy, rushes to the contingent; a messenger in his company.

“Where?” he asks.

“In the wagon,” Fen’Sulahn tells him, tightly.

She is without jewels, now. Her hair and clothes are streaked with mud, and blood, although she doesn’t look injured. Sympathy makes his way to the indicated wagon, which is the same one that Fen’Sulahn rode in when they party set out for her sister’s lands. Kel keeps back, watching, as they retrieve one of the hounds. Not one she she recognizes, she realizes with some relief. Haurshos is still by his mistress’ side, and most of the others she can name are milling around the wagon, ears flat and whines lingering low in their throats.

“What happened?” Sympathy asks.

“Andruil missed,” Fen’Sulahn says, tightly. “We did the best we could on the field, and came straight here. Will he make it?”

The air glows. A few spirits drift closer, radiating their own energy. Kel can only just see Sympathy behind the wall of fur, as the large hound draws breath, but seems to have been put into a deep sleep.

After a moment, Sympathy lets out a discouraging breath.

The party goes silent.

“Let us get him inside,” the healer orders. “Make certain he is comfortable. I will... do what I can.”

One of the elves in the contingent begins to sob, and Fen’Sulahn closes her eyes.

There’s a rush of activity, then. People carrying the injured hound into the healing chambers, and trying to wrangle the remaining ones so that they don’t all crowd in after him. The healing halls become much too trafficked for Kel’s comfort, full of magic and spirits and last-ditch efforts to heal the poor thing. His companion refuses to leave, and Fen’Sulahn herself stays until long into the night; and Kel wanders, watching. Removed in her distance, but still unavoidably captured by the genuine effort Fen’Sulahn’s people go to in order to try and save the hound.

Poison is the problem, she gathers. Andruil was using poison-tipped arrows, meant to slow down her very large prey. The hound, though large itself, is a much smaller animal, and the poison made it to his heart. It’s destroying his body faster than magic can heal it, and there seems to be no way of getting rid of it all. The only hope is countering the effect, but she gathers, from Fen’Sulahn’s tight responses, that Andruil would not share the secret of her poisoncraft over so ‘petty’ a matter as the life of a hound.

The hound survives until morning. Just barely, and its prospects still look dim. Kel watches Fen’Sulahn, as her gaze hardens, and she declares that she is going to parlay with her sister again.

“If you know the poison, can you save the animal?” Fen’Sulahn asks Sympathy.

“Possibly,” he says. “The odds improve a great deal. The wrong antidote could be instantly fatal, under the circumstances. If you cannot tell me what Andruil used, I will have to make my best guess in the next hour, or we lose the hound regardless. Nothing else has worked.”

The hound’s companion has finally fallen asleep on a cot beside him. Kel inches closer, as the lowered activity finally lets her. Many of the rest of Fen’Sulahn’s people have at least given up, after a long day of hunting and subsequent activity. The healing chambers are quiet again. Only Beauty has remained, with his own little dog napping in his sleeves; humming softly, and rhythm that seems to please the Spirits of Healing that are keeping the hound alive.

It’s pure luck, Kel knows. Pure luck, and nothing more, that she looks at the hound’s mouth, and sees brown specks in the foam lingering at the sides of it. And then carefully checks the paws of his feet, certain not to touch, and sees the purple bruises there. Felicidus Aria had been a rare plant in her time, nearly extinct, but there was a wild strain of it that Clan Lavellan protected near their wintering campsite. Normally, it seemed like little more than a harmless flower; good for some dyes and ointments. But combined with hemlock, even a little bit could make a thoroughly deadly poison.

The sort Kel knew tended to act in minutes. She had seen it used on animals before. Never for hunting - the meat would be tainted. But after the Blight, it was a good way of killing off infected wildlife. Lace some rancid meat, and put it out in Blight-touched lands, and kill the creatures before they could roam further north and spread the problem to the hunting grounds. Kel had been there when Deshanna and her First had tested their mix on a captured squirrel.

Brown flecks. Bruised feet.

She doesn’t know the name of the plant in this time, though. And she could be wrong. But...

Fen’Sulahn looks like whatever she is going to do, is not going to be pleasant for her. Whatever Andruil wants in exchange for the poison’s recipe is... probably a lot, then.

She approaches Sympathy.

“I know this poison,” she says.

The movements in the room halt. Even Beauty’s humming comes to a momentary stop.

“You what?” Sympathy asks, sitting up. “How?”

Kel shrugs.

“I have seen it before, I think. Brown flecks in the spit and bruises on the feet, and probably some other places too? It might be different. I do not know the name of the plant, but if you have pictures...”

She barely finishes before Sympathy is up and racing towards a set of shelves at the end of the room. He calls her, and she goes - feeling Fen’Sulahn’s gaze on her all the while. He pulls out a book, and then shoves it aside and grasps another one, with images more clearly overlaid on the pages. He makes her put her hand on the cover rather than flipping through it, though, and for a minute she feels an intense rush of disorientation. Like she’s flying through the pages herself, before she starts seeing the images of plants in her mind’s eye.

It takes her about half a minute to find Felicidus Aria. Hunter’s Trail, it’s called, according to the book.

She offers the name to Sympathy.

“That is one of the possibilities I was considering,” he agrees.

Fen’Sulahn has followed them over, by then. And for a moment she’s bedraggled enough, and the outline of her in Kel’s periphery is familiar enough, that she looks over at her and forgets, again, that she isn’t Olwyn.

She reaches over, and pushed a muddy strand of hair away from her face.

Awkward silence ensues.

Kel swiftly retracts her hand, remembering herself.

Fen’Sulahn purses her lips, but seems to decide against commenting on the gesture.

“Ghilan’nain makes many things for Andruil,” she declares. “Is this where you saw it? In her workshops?”

Kel sighs.

“I have never been to Ghilan’nain’s workshops,” she reiterates, for what feels like the thousandth time.

Fen’Sulahn still seems unconvinced.

But today, the persistent misconception works in her favour. And in the hound’s, too, because even though she doubts the word of a ‘broken construct’ would carry much weight with a lot of people, the possibility that Kel saw Ghilan’nain making a poison for her wife is apparently compelling enough to take the chance. Sympathy leaps back into action, focused as he calls for another healer to be woken up, and starts selecting ingredients from those that have been gathered.

It’s strange, but Kel realizes that however advanced the healing magic of this time might be, the herbalism still seems mostly the same. Measure. Mix. Crush, steep, and pour. Somehow she ends up watching the process from beside Fen’Sulahn; her good arm folded, her mind gradually becoming more and more aware of the fact that if she got this wrong, then the hound might well die, and she could foot the blame for it.

Probably a good thing that she guessed right, then.

She can tell when, about an hour later, Sympathy tilts his head back and lets out a breath of unabashed relief; and the hound opens his eyes, and thumps his tail a little. Looking more bewildered than anything.

Kel barely has time to appreciate the moment before Fen’Sulahn reaches over, and wraps her arms around her. She freezes in shock.

“Oh, you did it,” Fen’Sulahn whispers, fiercely. “Thank you, thank you.”

She clears her throat, trying to ignore the sudden rush of emotion rising up in her. It’s harder, somehow, when she can feel Fen’Sulahn’s all around.

“I think Sympathy deserves most of the credit at this point,” she mentions. Mud flecks down her shirt, and Olwyn - Fen’Sulahn - sags in relief. She lets go of Kel after another moment, and moves to check on the hound herself, and to commend Sympathy. The sky is getting lighter, by then. Sympathy takes the end of the crisis as his cue to banish everyone else still lingering in the halls, though.

“You need rest,” Kel notes. He looks as exhausted as anyone, if not more.

But he shakes his head.

“I need to keep an eye on my patient for an hour or two more,” he counters. “Just in case anything goes awry. Then I will rest, and clean up, and look after myself. I assure you.”

“I will wait with you,” Kel offers.

“No,” he insists. “You have been tense and unsleeping all week, and that is no good. Go to bed now, and then you can worry over everything later.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I thought worrying over everything was your job,” she jibes.

Sympathy manages a smile.

“It is,” he insists. “So I outrank you at it. Which means I get to keep doing it, while you are relieved from the duty. At least for now.”

It takes a few minutes more, mostly because Kel doesn’t think she could actually sleep right now even if she tried. But eventually, she relents. Heading off towards Sympathy’s chambers, where her own little sanctuary is located, not far from the healing room where the hound had been taken.

Fen’Sulahn is making her way down the end of the corridor.

And it’s not so much that Kel decides to follow her, as the she just sort of... does. Too aware of the exhaustion in the other woman’s step, too adjusted to the habit of looking out for her, of making sure no one in Skyhold might see a tired elven mage, back from a mission, and get some funny ideas. She knows it doesn’t really apply here. Fen’Sulahn is the leader of this place, and more powerful than she is in many, many ways.

But that doesn’t make her invulnerable.

When she reaches the door to her chambers, Fen’Sulahn halts. And then turns, halfway.

Her gaze meets Kel’s, and Kel abruptly realizes that this might actually be inappropriate behaviour.

“Did you want something?” Fen’Sulahn asks.

She hesitates. Too little sleep, she thinks. Too little sleep, and too much stress, and too many things lost. She cut her own hair, the last time she needed it. One-handed and silent, locked away in the privacy of her own little room. Sympathy would have helped, she knows, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him. There’s no kindness she could deprive herself of that would make up for her failures, no action that could ever change what happened, but sometimes, she can’t muster up the will to go looking for any kind of comfort.

Olwyn had seemed like that sometimes, too. Kel remembered. Watching her look at pretty thing in the Val Royeaux marketplace, and sometimes, she would offer to get her something. Just tentatively, uncertain if Olwyn knew the importance of gifts to the Dalish. Do you like that hairclip? I could get it for you...

She always turned her down.

Don’t waste coin on my vanity, please.

The request always seemed less like a coy attempt at humility, and more like a genuine plea. Kel hadn’t understood it well, but she had respected the preference. But now, she feels intimately acquainted with it.

“Do you need any help with your hair?” she asks.

Fen’Sulahn blinks. And then she casts her gaze up towards her forehead, and reaches over, and pulls some of the muddy strands in front of it again.

“It looks a mess, but a bath and a brush will do wonders for it,” she assures Kel.

“I could brush it,” Kel offers.

Fen’Sulahn smiles. Pity, still, colouring something in her expression, that sours everything in Kel’s gut, and makes her feel a fool.

“I can manage,” she insists. “You should rest. It has been a long day.”

With a tight nod, Kel turns, and does her best not to flee. She heads down the corridor, and back to Sympathy’s chambers; to her own room inside, with its small spare bed, and chest of things, and over-sized armchair. She settles down, fighting the sinking feeling in her chest. Black despair and grief, and bitterness. So much bitterness she can taste it on the back of her tongue.

When she finally manages to sleep, she dreams of running her fingers through wet curls of hair; washing blood from it into the waters of a dark and silent stream.

#empresstress13 #filled prompt #fen'sulahn au

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loveiscosmicsin · 7 years

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Picturesque

FFXV Spoilers

I’m writing this by the ear and not using much reference or information. The timeline of FFXV is confusing so whatever. I wanted to write about Ardyn and Gentiana or Gentianardyn or Ardiana. There’s something going on, but nobody’s saying much about it (much like the plot of XV, basically). Can’t help imagining Ardyn/Gentiana/Luna except, not a poly ship, but a complicated love triangle of new loves, lovers spurned, and portions of hearts remaining with the other person. As far as this fic’s concerned, Gentiana had a thing with Ifrit, Ardyn, and Luna. Let me tell you that I prefer Brotherhood!Gentiana because at least she doesn’t speak in confusing riddles and actually was at Luna’s side. Might become part of a series: The Accursed and The Liars. Posted on Ao3.

She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water. - Roman Payne

“Lady Lunafreya, would you like to hear a bedtime story?” Gentiana proposed to the former Tenebraen princess one night.

Lunafreya’s brilliant amethyst flickered to the older woman’s face. Her confusion was understandable. There was no precedence leading up to the inquiry. It came unexpectedly. “A little old for bedtime stories, I’m afraid,” she replied reluctantly, tucking short blonde hair behind her ears.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was a young woman at the tender age of fourteen. Gentiana never paid much heed to mortal lifespans for she knew that when there’s a beginning the end not far behind. Everyday was either a celebration or a curse. Lunafreya attained an air of maturity for someone barely at the peak of womanhood but Gentiana would consider her a child.

“Forgive me. I mean no offense, I seek to assuage feelings of self-doubt and reinvigorate your will.” Gentiana hovered her hands over the girl’s legs and concentrated white magic over worn muscles, her eyes shut not to betray her thoughts. “Lessons can be interpreted from stories.”

Gentiana came into Lunafreya’s service as a lady-in-waiting and her Messenger two years ago. It won’t be until two years later Gentiana would re-introduce herself as the Glacian, Shiva, one of the Six Astrals that safeguarded Eos. Though the Fleuret heiress was destined to accept the role of Oracle in the near future, there was little that the two maidens knew about each other. Lunafreya was the youngest acolyte placed in Gentiana’s care but possessed great promise. She would make a powerful Oracle under firm guidance.

Before a woman of the Fleuret lineage ascended to her calling, she must undergo a set of arduous trials. Queen Sylva, the former ruler of Tenebrae and Lunafreya’s predecessor, too, endured the training.

The princess suffered considerably through hers. Her spiritual energy was spent after dispelling a miasma that Gentiana projected. It was minuscule in scale and non-threatening, but Lunafreya collapsed after containing most of it. She was unsuccessful today, but improving with each attempt, refusing to be discouraged by present limitations.

It was nightfall now. Lunafreya’s body was plagued by severe chills and cramps that left her whimpering involuntarily and restless, a frequent occurrence. Even as Gentiana tended to the young girl, sympathy for her charge was inevitable. Lunafreya had no liberty to protest about burden when so many cannot find solace in this world. A calling must be heeded and the Oracle shall go to those in need. She accepted the hardships rather than to defy them, an attitude Gentiana herself had fostered.

One day, Gentiana would instruct the rites and the Oracle must be ready to commune with the Six so the King of Kings could fulfill his destiny. By then, the Astrals shall bear witness to humanity’s determination. After all, Lunafreya had already won over the Glacian’s unconditional admiration.

Lunafreya was silent even after Gentiana ceased healing. The servant bowed her head, interpreting silence as an answer and it was her time to retire. But the girl spoke with unwavering resolve to compel the Messenger to remain, “I’ve a feeling that this isn’t a mere children’s bedtime story. If this one is as important as you assert, I’d like to hear it.”

“Very well,” Gentiana nodded.

Once upon a time, there was fox king. He was neither of light or dark. He alone illuminated the world and fearlessly ventured the bleakest regions no one dared walk. But for that, his people loved him. He possessed a pure, uncomplicated heart that rivaled even the brightest of stars.

The gods awarded him with a bejeweled crown in all the colors of the rainbow.

A beautiful crown fit for a spectacular king! Everyone, in all the land, lauded over it.

But the gemstones on the crown were heavy, so heavy, they banged against his eyelids and weighed him down.

No one, from anywhere, wanted to hear the king’s voice again. The neglected soul contested to remove the crown.

He walked to the ends of the world to uplift his burden, but to no avail. A hole awaited him.

The fox king fell into the hole. No one remembered the fox king.

Everyone had forgotten him. Poor king. Poor king.

Gentiana paused with a grimace. That tale went untold for over a millennia, but the wounds were as fresh as received on that day. Not a day went by that she hadn’t thought of him and the Messenger lived many years. She brought a hand to her breast, feeling the medallion concealed there. It was far more than a trinket, it was a music box, the melody jarring after it had been exhausted repeatedly. A memento of better times and what could have been.

“Is there more to the tale?” The girl asked, perturbed by the ending.

Yes, Gentiana thought immediately before resigning with a painful lie, “No. This was his fate.”

Lunafreya pursed her lips, pensive as she leaned in the palm of her hand. “Gentiana, did you know this fox king?”

Gentiana laughed softly but no humor came of it. “Is that assumption you have derived from the tale, m'lady?”

“If I may be so bold, I’d say that you knew this fox.”

“The fox’s tale is a chapter read and closed by those who walked that path until they met their demise. The fox saw the world through a different lens, did what he felt was right and perhaps condemned for a nature that was but a dark seed in his heart. Perhaps he was destined to bring ruin unto others. Who could say?” The Messenger paused, extending a finger over the promised Oracle’s heart. Perhaps the girl would understand the hardship. “Tell me, Lady Lunafreya. What is heavier? The world or its people’s hearts?”

Lunafreya glanced down at the Messenger’s hand, puzzlement touched her features briefly before an eerie answer left her mouth, “The heart holds as much as it would allow, Gentiana. If we were at any liberty to choose, the weight could be lighter or heavier as we wish it.”

Gentiana tilted her head, envisioning the girl who once sewn her crown with delicate blue flowers. A halo of holy light glittered around her, leaving the Astral enraptured. “You would submit yourself to the latter if you had the choice?”

“I would, but I already do. Even if it meant giving up my life, I will defeat the Starscourge. I must.” Unwavering dedication resounded in her words.

Gentiana took the girl’s hand between her own and the Oracle-to-be flinched, never had the attendant been so forward as to touch her. A mortal’s warmth was something the goddess hadn’t felt in a long time, chipping the glacier around her heart. Gentiana had known two great tragedies in her lifetime, there won’t be another, she would rather die first before anything happened to Lunafreya.

Both the girl and the fox were willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good. Their hearts had the capacity to hold the world and its habitants, a pure and idealistic love, but naïve. The fox possessed the eyes to distinguish the light of expiring souls yet he was determined to avert certain death or at least, ease suffering. His final act of love should’ve marked him as the last king, unparalleled and forgotten by descendants after him. The kings of yore saw to this banishment of their ilk.

She cannot erase the fox from history, this Gentiana knew, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake with her charge. Lunafreya was a paragon of the peace and should she die, then the world would come to an end.

History had its eyes on Lunafreya, after all.

“I sense you, but I find your power wanting.” Ardyn Izunia hummed to the sound of his own noncommittal tune, swishing brandy in a glass.

The mauve-haired chancellor chuckled, finger tapping against the glass impatiently. It had been a millennia since he had been ignored, having grown accustomed to commanding gullible audiences who latched on to his every word.

The uninvited guest was nothing like that. A force of nature, elusive and omnipresent. While Ardyn’s words corroded and dominated willpower to a world he made for himself, planets orbited around her without consequence. It didn’t matter to her how many devotees clung to her tits like babes or treated her name as it was a curse in itself.

“I confess, I didn’t expect your intervention. I thought you would be too preoccupied mourning your darling Lunafreya. Extinguished like a star, that one.” Feigning pity, he raised the glass to toast in the late Oracle’s memory, “A shame that her lungs weren’t in agreement with the sea water.”

Silence persisted, but the room had progressively gotten colder. Frost crept up around the rim of the glass. He took a sip.

“The cold never bothered me anyway,” he chuckled as he finished the drink. The glass shattered in his hand, crystal fragments spilled on the floor. “Come now, do show yourself. I’ve no quarrel with you though my feelings are a little hurt.” He shook his head in dismay, clicking his tongue.

A flurry of ice stormed into the room, projecting frost within the vicinity. The dance ended as the crystal particles revealed a woman donned in a black and gold dress. Her ivory face was devoid of emotion, but her temperament spoke otherwise. That woman always had an inclination for the theatrics.

“Ah, the heavenly ice goddess herself appears before me of her own accord.” Ardyn rose from his chair, removing his fedora as he bowed humbly. Though his grin was amicable, anger glinted in his amber eyes. “I must be truly blessed.”

“You lost the Gods’ favor.” The raven-haired woman brought her hands forward, the movement as gradual as glaciers coming together. “The stars no longer shine for you, fallen king.”

“I’ve made my dwelling in the darkness.” The man sighed as he readjusted his hat. “After all that has happened, still you live. I’m rather curious why you persist using that form, masquerading as something you’re not.” He paused, hissing a word as it was vile through clenched teeth, “Human.”

“A question I pose to you,” The Glacian reached out to touch the chancellor’s ageless and handsome mask. “You call yourself Ardyn Izunia.” The illusion came undone, gold pupils glinted violently through obsidian, tan complexion paled, and the ebony blood oozed from his hollow eyes and cracked lips, dousing the Messenger’s hand in its viscous taint. “Now the vessel emulates its essence.”

Demonic. Grotesque. Unclean. Accursed. Let the entire universe bear witness to his true face. The form bestowed when he was denied to pass over and condemned to eternal life. He was no longer human.

The Immortal Accursed snarled with penetrating roar and lashed out, his grip a vise around Gentiana’s throat. The Messenger’s head jerked back by the impact, but her emerald eyes bore down on him. His fingers dug deeply, searching for vitals to snuff out, crush and claw until nothing remained of her. It was unfortunate for him that the Glacian’s life couldn’t be ended in such a crude method.

Gentiana’s other hand joined on the Accursed’s face, fingers delicately wiping at the scorned sludge. They were reminiscent to tears though she doubted that he shed them still.

He was a vessel of darkness and it poured out of him endlessly; submerge the both of them in this very room, if it were possible. She soiled her hands, anointing the sanctity of her office with Ardyn’s taint. Before him, she was a sinner, embalming for a funeral, but the man knew no grave, thus, he had no need for one.

Ardyn ceased squeezing and in a huff of disgust, almost as if he lost interest, released Gentiana. The Astral lowered her hands, sludge evaporated harmlessly out of existence. The Accursed’s exposed mask lingered for a moment before the man she knew as the former King of Light stood before her. His face never left her dreams. Old wounds carved deeply into the goddess’s soul as Gentiana had guided and loved Lunafreya as immensely and passionately as she did this man.

He couldn’t end her life no more than she could his.

Even when she wished destruction upon the pariah who brought harm to the prophet.

Gentiana’s beloved Lunafreya. It wasn’t the Oracle who granted the Glacian reprieve and boundless solicitude, but the woman behind the authority.

The goddess felt the bonds she forged with the Accursed and the Oracle still, if not more strongly than ever. Those connections were all that remained. Time of separation and death could never sever them.

“Eirlys.”

Gentiana’s heart crashed like an avalanche against her rib cage. She had not heard that name in a long time, having discarded it when she was reincarnated as Gentiana. Those that knew that name had been permitted entry to the Kingdom of the Dead, Ardyn was the only exception who bore knowledge of it. Eirlys was never Gentiana’s true persona, but it was an element of herself. Part of her resonated strongly to the past and all the memories she held dear and promises gone unfulfilled with it.

“Why are you here?” The inquiry was void of malice and honeyed threats. It was hollow and splintering. When Gentiana looked to him, Ardyn’s eyes were no longer hot coals in a fire but mirth curled a corner of his mouth. “Revenge? To declare war? To ask for my forgiveness? Why, my snowdrop Messenger, does the passage of time run by too slowly for the Six? Even though it’s you, I don’t sway to the temptations of the flesh as easily as I did in my youth.”

“It is none of your concern.” The frostbite in her tone went unheeded when the man clicked his tongue.

“Ah, a courtesy call then.”

“A courtesy call would be to those holding reputable offices, correct? What is yours when your actions vanquished an empire and ultimately betrayed those who trusted you?”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Ardyn sighed deeply as he extended a hand to the ice goddess. “I hope you see the world has made liars and traitors out the both of us, Eirlys. Allegiances fickle affairs, promises are meant to be broken. Today’s allies become tomorrow’s enemies. What comes up, must come down.” He dramatically made a circular motion. “And etcetera, etcetera. You get the picture. Deities have witnessed the worst of humanity and are no strangers to it themselves.”

“An Astral’s word has and will always be their bond.” Gentiana asserted, apprehension boiled deep within her. It took her back to the day she saw Ardyn’s face and all those promises exchanged came crashing around her. Mortals were indeed cruel.

“I recall that same gimmick that long ago so don’t delude yourself now,” Ardyn waved off as he walked past Gentiana. “And so you forged a covenant with the Chosen King. Your second choice and only hope. Save one, let your fair maiden die, too little, too late, to stop the darkness that’s to come.”

Lunafreya’s death was unavoidable but Gentiana didn’t expect her to fall at the Walls of Water. The Astral couldn’t bear the alternative even if the Oracle survived, a vessel of otherworldly power succumbing to rotting flesh and uncooperative limbs, her beloved Lunafreya paralyzed for life, losing all functionality of what made her human until her mind remained. Drowning was a mercy in comparison to fading out of existence and Gentiana knew she had no regrets.

Lunafreya had asked Gentiana not to intervene, to then form a covenant with the King of Stone to bring light back to the world. It was the most excruciating order the Glacian had to follow, she after all sought mankind’s salvation from the plague.

There was nothing else that needed to be said, Gentiana realized. She wished that she found solace in seeing her former charge and lover once more. The Glacian didn’t come to wish the peace or to free him from a millennia-old curse. There was only one king, rightful and true, who she willfully tethered herself to and even then, she had her own objectives to see to fruition.

Perhaps in another life…

“What will become of you, Ardyn Lucis Caelum?” Though Gentiana already knew the outcome of Ardyn’s plan. A goddess of death needn’t a crystal ball or tarot cards to predict the end of the Caelum bloodline. What began in blood, must also end in blood and the world would become whole again.

Would she see Ardyn welcomed to the Gates of the Undead?

“Never you fret, my dear. I’ve always been a man of no consequences. Ah, don’t tell me that there’s still a flame in that tundra you call a heart.”

Ardyn turned around, finding that the goddess was no longer there. She left no trace of her existence, but he would always remember this conversation until the end.

“My heart will always belong to you.” Ardyn whispered, remnants of his former self, a humanity he thought long forgotten, loathed the emptiness. “As it always had.”

#Gentiana #Ardyn Izunia #lunafreya nox fleuret #ffxv spoilers #ffxv #ff #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #gentianardyn #ardiana #gentialuna #moonflower #genluna #access to the Ao3 link #The Accursed and The Liars #Gentiana/Ardyn #Ardyn/Gentiana

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getpregnant-blog1 · 5 years

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Empowering Children With Low Self Esteem

New Post has been published on http://www.karanschmidt.com/2019/06/24/empowering-children-with-low-self-esteem/

Empowering Children With Low Self Esteem

Self esteem is a key ingredient in maximizing children’s potential in academic achievement, social success, and personal happiness. This statement alone, was the inspiration behind the motivation for Children’s Story Book ‘ The Magic Sunglasses’ written by Auriel Blanche.(also known as Angela Buck)

We all want to protect our children, keep them from harms way and safeguard them from danger. Fundamentally it is the child’s own inner beliefs and self esteem that is the only thing that can act like armor and create a shield to protect them from the challenges the world has to throw at them. For a child to reach their full potential: self esteem is the primary and most crucial tool. This is the devise that Angela Buck has focused on throughout her child literacy program. She prides herself on actively infusing inspiration to children across the world. By sparking imaginations through her literature, Angela gives the children the freedom to learn and the ability to overcome the negatives life may throw at them. Angela encourages the use of attributes a child has within to enable them to live with independence and self worth.

Angela Buck successfully taps into many children’s spirits on a global scale, making them visualize desirable outcomes and make positive connections with their inner purpose. She does this through her skill of creative and innovative writing which engages children of all ages. Along with her interactive workshops and programs, The Magic Sunglasses, her acclaimed children’s fun fantasy book is a must read for all children in today’s society. Especially for those who are saddened with a low self esteem. Samantha is a character a child with a lack of confidence can relate to. She too hasn’t fully discovered that she has a special value all her own. Throughout the story she finds a power that the reader will be inspired to find in themselves. The books motivation is to show we all have that special value, which we can use to help us live the lives we really want and to be happy. The magic sunglasses in their physical form mysteriously find their way to Samantha. They have wonderful powers which support her and show her what you can do if you really try! The important notion behind the story is that these possibilities are still achievable when she no longer has them. The results this book entails is seen in the readers improvement of personal motivation, their positivity for their own capabilities, their respect for their own special values and the optimisms for their own self worth.

Children with low self-esteem may not want to try new things, and may frequently speak negatively about themselves; they may be over critical, lack confidence and miss out on the fun and learning that other children benefit from. It is known that the use of a child’s imagination helps children to develop their unique personality, beliefs, and strengths. Children work through their problems and explore their feelings while reading this book. Through their new limitless view they are now able to set meaningful and purposeful goals or intentions. Samantha hasn’t any limitations to her dreams; she tries new things and can reach goals without an aid. This can then be relayed in the life of the reader.

Patterns of self-esteem start very early in life. This is why Angela Bucks book is aimed at 7-12 year olds, this age is crucial for developments; emotionally, physically and intellectually. Learning new skills and gaining belief in their potentials are great ways to improve self esteem in children. This is exactly what the themes throughout The Magic Sunglasses inspires to do. They teach the reader to praise themselves and use their imaginations to motivate all welcomed possibilities.

Angela Buck understands that Children with low self esteem need a positive role model. For this reason she created the amazing Samantha. She is always polite and friendly. She is playful and imaginative. She enjoys making her dreams come true and strives to reach her potential. She is a happy child, enthusiastic and charismatic. She is respectful of others and through self discovery learns how to cope with the challenges she faces with optimism and self worth. All of which are attributes that a role model should inspire.

To overcome self esteem issues and lack of confidence we need to Identify and redirect the child’s inaccurate beliefs. Self-esteem is all about the way you judge yourself. Angela strives to promote the ethos of creating a worldwide community of children who have learnt how to value themselves and to use their potential, to live personally successful lives and contribute to the success of others. These aspects are explored through the characters in the book as well as through her interactive workshops, and her new ventures and material. Inaccurate beliefs are created by other inflicting methods surrounding children, i.e. other adults, other children, television, magazines or many other reflective methods. The Magic Sunglasses compromises these inaccurate beliefs and offers a more positive and preferable aspect to life. Samantha the main character doesn’t embellish in perfection, attractiveness or being the best at everything but instead appreciates her own abilities, enjoys her own imagination and strives to promote her own specialties. Along with promoting children’s individual self-discovery and self-esteem Angela has the aim of teaching the importance of discovering others self worth’s and becoming respectfully aware of others. To not only understand their own specialties but to seek and understanding the positives and strengths in everyone. Angela hopes a generation of individuals who grow up with a natural respect for others regardless of race, religion or cultural will one day exist. The practice of imagining themselves in Samantha’s situation is very important for developing compassion, empathy and understanding others fully, by discouraging flawed beliefs and offering inspiration for positive healthy ways of thinking, the child’s self-esteem and confidence will inevitably improve. This will benefit the academic, social and personal development needed at this age.

It is known that a child needs affection and love. Without this it is inevitable that a low self esteem will occur. For this reason The Magic Sunglasses would be a great read to improve the esteem. It is a warming and touching storyline that will be extremely heartfelt by the reader, making them feel happy inside. The transparent messages throughout the book are to teach the children to love themselves. This book will surely strengthen the child’s heart. Positive feedback is always craved by children and important in their learning, for this reason the book encourages own thought and personal creativity. It also encourages using imaginations for possibilities and the motivation for achieving those opportunities. The Magic Sunglasses provides imaginary situations which allow them to practice creative solutions and transcend challenges. Both of which are tools that will set them for life.

A happy living environment is essential in areas of personal confidence and personal valuation. If a child has been constantly criticized, bullied or ignored during early childhood they will have much less child self-esteem than children who are praised, encouraged, listened to and valued. Often it is the case that a child hasn’t had or cannot respond to the praise or encouragement from a parent or teacher alone. This means that it is important that every child has the confidence within themselves to appreciate their own self worth and specialties. All of which are creatively demonstrated with fantastic illustrations in Angela Bucks book. Another aspect to think of is that if a child is experiencing a troubled time they may need an embracive distraction. By reading The Magic Sunglasses an escapism is created for them. An inspirational and imaginative place of positivity and hedonism. A place of fun, friendship and endless possibility. Worry, fear, panic and anxiety are all counteracted with positive images by reading the magic sunglasses, all fantastically created by the amazing author Angela Buck.

Children with unhealthy self-esteem tend to fear interacting with others. They’re uncomfortable in social settings and hate group activities as well as independent pursuits. When challenges arise, they feel negative toward finding solutions and belittle themselves. Children with low self esteem are afraid to say “I don’t understand this.” And therefore do not learn and develop as the others do. They don’t know their strengths and focus on their weaknesses. The Magic Sunglasses give a sense of optimism throughout the story line. An interactive workshop is available just by contacting the author. This is where children can benefit from the participational activities and make friends through the interaction. They are encouraged to have fun, be creative and play imaginatively in order to explore the themes. In small groups the children can concentrate on the issues and communicate openly in discussions. This will enable the individuals within the groups to challenge and understand their own and others fear and problems. They will learn to inspire themselves and others to explore passions and dreams. All children in the previous workshops, enjoyed, learnt and benefitted from them. Many parents noticed differences in their children. Many children improved their self-esteem. Teachers were impressed and as a result were inspired to re-book again and again.

When these stories actually transform a child’s life, bringing joy and happiness to it, you know the story is a winner. This touching, inspirational and heart-warming plot has repeatedly been transformed into optimistic true life stories for many children who have read it. From some of which, Angela has been inundated with positive testimonials, rewarding reviews and written letters of compliments.

“I was told by a friend of mine to get the magic sunglasses for my daughter who is 7, she loved it and I did too. I try to make her realize how special she is and this book was great in explaining this, the pictures were great and Katie loved to read it. In fact shes read it again and again, I will definitely recommend this to children with lack of confidence and parents who think their children may need help in self esteem. ” Barbara Deaglee

“I used to hear my 8-year-old daughter putting herself down, saying things like “I’m so ugly” or “I can’t do anything right.” I tried to assure her that none of these things were true, but nothing I said seemed to make any difference. I gave her The Magic Sunglasses and she loved it. Shes read it a few times now. She is now so much happier, she comes home from school and tells us what shes been good at and she has even joined a dance club. I’d recommend this book to every mum who is worried about their child being down.” Julie Jacobs – Melton Mowbray

“Dear Angela, Thank you very much for your workshop at my childs school last month. She came home excitable telling me about her day, playing games and learning about the magic sunglasses. I thought nothing more of it until I went to a parent teacher meeting. I was told my daughter who is 7 had come out of herself. I know she was a little shy, would be afraid to talk out in class and would shy from asking the teacher for help sometimes, but I was told that she is now much chattier and participates in the classroom discussions more. Im amazed she has even auditioned for the school play. This I have been told has resulted in her grades improving. I have also seen a happier child, she is a lot chattier, has had many new friends round for tea and is very keen on keeping up to date with the website…” David Harper – Oldham

As you can see from these views, Angela Buck is a very inspirational lady, not only to children but to adults and parents over the globe. She shines beacons of light, inspires lasting change and empowers emotionally happy children to reach endless possibilities!!! How refreshing and delightful to benefit from The Magic Sunglasses and see it empower our children’s minds and free their spirits to become flourishing children and ultimately successful adults! To get involved in her quest or to introduce your child to Samantha, Angela or The Magic Sunglasses purely click on the link – http://themagicsunglasses.com.

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