#I will make small talk with him until father returns because I am a genteel lady and that is what is expected of me.

[notbecauseofvictories]

I started reading North and South, and while I think the adaptation did a good job of demonstrating how Margaret is quiet and stilted and yes, a little bit haughty, it did not adequately communicate how deeply and immediately into it Thornton is.

#from the bookshelf #they meet when margaret and her father are looking for rooms and the scene proceeds thusly #MARGARET: Oh this is the man my father is meant to tutor. He is very large and rough-looking but that's right for a man in trade. #I will make small talk with him until father returns because I am a genteel lady and that is what is expected of me. #THORNTON: what is this VISION OF WOMANLINESS why is she so COLD and ALOOF I am ashamed just sitting here listening to her talk #and also unexpectedly I am into that? I am angry about being into that and also ashamed and oh god it's suddenly very warm in this room. #he then spends the ENTIRE REST OF THE BOOK convinced he is not good enough for her and progressively ashamed/aroused by this #this is a man who wants to be dommed very badly #(not that margaret's much better; she is most attracted to thornton when he's at the party wordlessly confident and self-assured #among the other manufacturers #she genuinely thinks ''whenever he's at our place he seems so jittery and uncertain and plaintive it's unappealing'' #like. meg. maggie. margaret. do you think.....there might be a reason for that? hmm? maybe?) #also the proposal scene is more satisfying in the bbc adaptation #even though in the book thornton's response to margaret's refusal of him is to announce that's all well and good #but he's going to continue to be in love with her #which incidentally OUTRAGES margaret; after he's gone she tells herself that a gentleman has never threatened her like that #as a final note #gaskill's decision to write the higgins' dialogue in dialect is a personal affront to me and possibly god #north and south

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_________

Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

#Doofus Rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #Doofus Rick #J19ζ7 #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #Rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #Rnm #rnm fanfic #rnm fic #Rick and morty fanfic #My writing #my fanfiction #My works #fanfiction #Fanfic #multi chapter #rnm fanfiction #Rick Sanchez #Rick x reader

[sigyn-loves-loki]

HIGH SCHOOL RAGNAROK

Chapter 1: Freshman - Newman !

(Sigyn)

Today had to be the world's worst day. I guess it can't be any worse when the worst thing has happened with you. Let me tell you, today is supposed to be my first day in high school as a freshman. But then fate decided why not tire this little girl more and more until she reaches school. But won't stop there as well coz there's more to come.

At first my alarm clock didn't ring at morning and I slept through the entire time within which I could have got ready for school but I didn't. Mommy had to brust in through my door to wake me up. By that time it was very late, so I had to skip breakfast and get ready. No one wants to be late on their first day. Mom was not really happy when I ran out of the house without a bite on my bread but I had to do it.

Just when I thought the whole alarm thing was just some accident, I found that the tire of my cycle has punctured. On close examination I knew exactly who did it. And gussed the alarm clock situation was also not accidental. I looked at their house, which was opposite to our's and saw that their cycles were not there. The boys had already left for school. So I walked my cycle up to the mechanic's cabin and left it there. The guy asked me to pick it up at the evening. Hence I had to take a bus to school.

I am Sigyn and I live in New Asgard which is a small town up at Norway. I wasn't up here from the beginning. At first we were at Paris. The sparks of the city and the lovely crowd always made me happy. Anyone would give anything to spend a life. Paris is said to be the city of dreams, of lovers, and poets. But my mother was never to be tamed my small earthly pleassures and the rich lifestyle she had in the world's most beautiful city. She always wanted to live in the mountains and the woods. She hated the chaos the overwhelming crowd did.

So one day when I was just seven years old, she told my father that she didn't wanted to be with him anymore and asked me where I wanted to stay. Truely speaking, I'd love to be in Paris for my entire life, but I am more of a mamma's girl. So she took me and a huge suitcase one morning and left the city forever.

We then came here at New Asgard. Mom had some fortune inherited from her parents so she bought this cabin at a mountain end, with the Northern Woods. It's quiet and peaceful up here. Mom is a poet, she likes the peace she finds here. Dad visits us once every year and brings us lots of stuffs from Paris, all of which mom hates. But I love them. And I love both my parents so much. Sometimes it pains me that I had to choose but since they aren't divorced yet, I can still manage dad to live with us after retirement.

It was when we came to New Asgard that we met the Odinsons. They are our neighbors and the worst thing in all of Norway. The old man, Odin, he's so rude. He hates to socialize and doesn't stay home when his wife, the good woman Frigga invites us to dinners. Their elder son, Thor is a very genteel guy even though he likes to fight and get drunk at parties. He's just an year older than me and is a sophomore at school.

His younger brother, Loki is the matter of concern. He is the most evil boy you will ever meet. He's my age and is in the same class as mine. This is the guy who punctured my cycle tire and disrupted my alarm clock and for him I'm going to be late for school. It is supposed to be one of his silly pranks he enjoys to do on others. Every student in school is tired of him and all the teachers know how mischivious he is. But since he's a genius student, no one can really punish him. If I go and ask him about my cycle, he will simply deny and that will be insulting. So I decided not to tell him anything.

By the time I reached school, it was past 10 am which is the starting time of my first class. I ran through the school gate, crashing on some sophomore couple kissing in the lawn and without apologising I ran my way to my Calculus class. The doors to the class were closed. I knocked and opened them slightly and found that the proffessor had already given a few sums on differentiation and sat at his desk observing while the class.

"May I come in Mr. Mill?" I asked.

Mr. Mill, our Calculus proffessor looked up to me and then looked at his watch. Blood had flown down to my feet with his cold gaze. This guy never liked me as my integrations since middle school has been too weak to improve. "So? 10:20? That's a nice time to come to school."

"Mr. Mill, I had to take the bus..."

"I don't want any excuses to disturb the peace in my class. Go to your seat." he ordered and looked at his book again.

I went up to the only empty seat in the whole class. I took out my books and started to copy the sums to solve it.

"I saved the seat for you." wishpered a voice from my backseat.

I turned around and saw the glowing boy who was an epitome of nuisance beaming all his white teeth with an utter friendly innocence. His hair looked more disgusting with the extra greese on it and the dark black colour of it never leaving to compliment the green emerald eyes that glowed at me.

"Oh! I am so lucky!" I told him sarcastically.

"By the way you're late." he reminded.

"Thanks genius. I didn't notice." I replied.

"Did I mention this was a group discussion? Stop talking and do your sums." Mr. Mill said.

"Ssshh. Don't disturb me Loki." I told him.

"Have I ever, in my life, disturbed you Sigyn?" he said making puppy eyes.

I just gave him a look and turned to my exercise book with the sum I was finding very hard to solve.

"Hey Skurge." Loki said to the boy he was sitting with. Skurge was supposed to be the only guy in school who obeyed him like he was some king. But Loki never ordered anyone to do anything. He never trusted anyone with his works. No, not everyone but me. Because he had no other options but me to complete his english easays and also we are always left to become partners for any science project as no one would like to be partners with us. I'm grumpy and he's naughty. People hate us and we hate each other.

"Yep Loki." Skurge answered. They talked loud enough for me to listen.

"Do you know any good mechanics near school? I need a cycle to be repaired. One of it's tires got punctured." he said.

"Whose cycle?" Skurge asked him.

"Mine." I turned again and gave Loki a death stare. Loki just smirked in return.

"Is that why you had to take the bus, Sig?" Skurge asked me.

"Yes Skurge. If someone hadn't punctured my cycle on the first day of school then I wouldn't have been late." I replied. Also I don't like him calling me Sig. It's only what Thor and Bruce calls me. Loki normally preffers my real name.

"Coindentally, I too know about a cycle and a punctured tire." Loki said.

Even though I didn't wanted to confront him about it but I finally gave up and did. I turned to face him, forgetting about those ten differential calculus sums and Mr. Mill, and told him,  "Loki Odinson, you treacherous villain. I knew it. I will tell your brother!"

He came closer to my face and very slowly whishpered "Go ahead, try me darling." and smiled.

"Who is talking? I warned you all multiple times not to disturb the class. Who's talking? I want names." Mr. Mill shouted.

"Sigyn, sir." Loki all of a sudden told him my name. Everytime I think he will be a better man, he comes out to be more and more bad.

"Sigyn, I want you to leave the class now." he ordered.

"But sir. He was distu....."

"You are already late for the class and now you're disturbing everyone and not letting them study. I don't want anymore tantrums. I ask you to pardon us from your presence this morning. Good bye, have a nice day." he said and gestured me at the door.

I looked at Loki being very much annoyed but couldn't show him my anger from the insult I just faced. He too wasn't smiling anymore. I grabbed my things and walked out of the class.

[maddie-grove]

My Top Ten Georgian (Ish) Romance Novels

Notes: I’m doing a top ten instead of a top five for Georgian, Regency, and Victorian romance novels, because I’ve just read way too many good ones to stop at five! Also, I’m using Georgian to mean the years from 1714 (when George I became King of Great Britain and Ireland) to 1803 (when the Napoleonic Wars started). Once a romance novel’s set in 1803 or 1804, it starts to feel less like “French Revolution hangover” and more like “it’s almost the Regency.” 

1. The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt (2007)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: Independently wealthy Lady Georgina Maitland doesn’t care to marry, instead preferring to collect fairy tales and look after her rural estate with the help of her steward, Harry Pye. Yet she feels drawn to Harry, who is quiet and gentle and very good at carving small animal figurines out of wood. Their budding romance is threatened, though, by the growing hostility of their community, Harry’s complicated family secrets, and, yes, a series of sinister sheep-murders.

Why I Like It: Sometimes, the sexiest thing a man can do is make an exquisite little wooden hedgehog with his own two hands. Harry is a wonderful hero, kind and unassuming and ready to throw down the second some evil nobleman threatens the poacher’s son. I am also very fond of Georgina, an absent-minded folklore aficionado after my own heart. The rural setting is delightfully spooky, and the plot pulls together a lot of moving parts in a very effective way.

Favorite Scene: Harry and Georgina are reunited after he’s kidnapped and nearly murdered by said evil nobleman.

2. To Seduce a Sinner by Elizabeth Hoyt (2008)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: When Jasper Renshaw, Lord Vale, is jilted for the second time in one year, unassuming Melisande Fleming offers herself as a substitute bride. Although Jasper seems like an ordinary and rather dry man, Melisande has secretly loved him ever since she saw his extraordinary kindness in a private moment. Jasper accepts because it’s convenient, only to be pleasantly surprised by their chemistry. Their marriage is going well...except that his horrible experiences during the Seven Years’ War are coming back to haunt him, both psychologically and in the sense that somebody is trying to murder them.

Why I Like It: Jasper’s combination of dry humor and hidden tenderness is pretty irresistible, while Melisandre’s gradual overcoming of her near-pathological reserve and self-denial is very moving. The suspense plot is exciting and carries unexpected emotional weight, plus there’s a nice side-romance between Jasper’s tough valet and Melisande’s enterprising lady’s maid. Finally, the sex scenes are super-hot.

Favorite Scene: Melisande flashes back to the moment she fell in love with Jasper.

3. An Unlikely Countess by Jo Beverley (2011)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: After doing a good turn for genteel but desperately poor Prudence Youlgrave, directionless Catesby “Cate” Burgoyne thinks he’ll never see her again. Then he inherits an earldom from his estranged older brother. Not eager to return to his difficult family, Cate stops by Prudence’s village on the way home, hoping to check on the stranger he so fondly remembers. When he finds that she’s on the verge of marrying a lecherous old man at her shitty brother’s insistence, he impulsively offers to marry her instead...forgetting to mention that he’s no longer a cash-strapped second son. Prudence is prepared to deal with financial woes, but is she ready to handle the duties of a countess, a semi-dysfunctional aristocratic family, and murder?

Why I Like It: It should be clear by now that I’m a sucker for stories about creepy English country houses, and this novel certainly delivers. Beverley also takes a great deal of care in establishing the personalities of Prudence and Cate outside of their relationship, making the romance between them especially potent. Their consideration for each other makes me like them a lot, and it’s also weirdly sexy.

Favorite Scene: Cate and Prudence have a quiet moment together after he saves her from ruffians.

4. Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt (2012)

Exact Setting: 1730s England.

Premise: Widowed Isabel, Lady Beckinhall, may be jaded and a touch hedonistic, but she’s also very interested in the welfare of the St. Giles Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children. In order to do this, she’s willing to teach Winter Makepeace, the middle-class proprietor, some social graces so he can help with fundraising. Winter disagrees that he needs to develop his networking skills, plus he has other reasons for wanting to keep this improper yet intriguing lady at bay...reasons that may or may not involve a secret crime-fighting identity!

Why I Like It: The contrast between Isabel’s insouciance and Winter’s severity is a lot of fun; it’s not uncommon for a rakish hero to be paired with a buttoned-up heroine, yet the reverse is rare. He’s more softhearted and she’s more interested in being a good person than their exteriors would suggest, but those exteriors add a little spice. This novel is also one of the best adventure stories in the genre, with plenty of skulduggery and derring-do to go around. 

Favorite Scene: Isabel discovers Winter’s secret identity (it’s sexy).

5. A Scandalous Countess by Jo Beverley (2012)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: Georgia, Lady Maybury, used to be the darling of society...until her young husband died in a duel and rumors spread that she put his opponent up to it because she wanted to be with him instead. Now she’s out of mourning and trying to start anew, but someone has resurrected the old rumors. Prickly Humphrey, Lord Dracy, is willing to stand by her side, but could he have ulterior motives?

Why I Like It: Although I like the romance, the main appeal of this book is that it’s top-drawer melodrama starring a complex, charismatic heroine. There is no shortage of deliciously lurid nonsense, and Beverley builds a wonderfully constructed plot around it. I just luxuriated in the drama of it all the first time I read it. In addition, Georgia’s anguish over the loss of her husband (who was more of a best friend than a lover but still extremely important to her) and loneliness when she’s left behind by her friends gives the book a strong emotional core beneath the pulp. She also matures without having to flagellate herself for being high-spirited or making minor mistakes.

Favorite Scene: Georgia and Dracy try to solve her husband’s murder and deal with additional drama at a masquerade ball.

6. Heartless by Mary Balogh (1995)

Exact Setting: 1750s England.

Premise: Lucas Kendrick returns to London after years of exile to take over the dukedom he inherited from his estranged brother. He’s also looking for a bride and, instead of doing the expected thing and marrying beautiful debutante Lady Agnes Marlowe, he chooses her older sister Anna, who sacrificed her early youth to keep her family together through tough times. Charmed by Anna’s sweetness and maturity, he believes that this convenient marriage may turn out to be a love match as well. Unfortunately, Anna is being stalked by a traumatic past, both metaphorically and literally, that sows mistrusts between them and also puts them in physical danger. Plus, Lucas’s family relationships have to be sorted out and Anna’s deaf teenage sister needs to learn sign language! There’s a lot going on.

Why I Like It: In theory, I should dislike this romance. If Lucas had used a shred of understanding in the first act of the novel, he would’ve picked up on Anna’s traumatic past early on, saving them both a lot of heartache and enabling them to stop her stalker at least one hundred pages sooner. I think it works here because (a) Lucas’s negative reaction to Anna’s suspicious behavior is pretty measured (he withdraws emotionally and makes some stupid assumptions, but he’s not ever really mad at her and he still wants to make the marriage of convenience work) and (b) both characters are set up in such a way that you get why it takes so long for them to communicate (his default mode is to keep to himself, while she’s understandably reticent to talk about the horrible stuff she’s been through and stung by Lucas’s assumptions). Instead of frustrating the reader, Balogh wrings maximum angst from the set-up, making for great catharsis. 

Favorite Scene: As much as I love the angst, the unexpected initial romance of Anna and Lucas’s courtship was what truly reeled me in.

7. Duke of Desire by Elizabeth Hoyt (2017)

Exact Setting: 1740s England.

Premise: Proper widow Iris Daniels, Lady Jordan, is traveling home from a friend’s wedding when she’s waylaid by a secret society of evil aristocrats. Raphael de Chartres, the Duke of Dyemore, has infiltrated the society to bring it down, but he endangers his cover by rescuing Iris and throwing her in his carriage. Unfortunately, Iris thinks he’s just a regular evil aristocrat, so she shoots him, making it necessary for her to nurse him back to health at his secluded estate. She does a good job, but they still have to deal with the evil secret society and his all-consuming desire for revenge.

Why I Like It: Hoyt’s romances all have a fairy-tale feel, and she makes wonderful use of that atmosphere in Duke of Desire. Rafe lives in a dusty, disused castle, filled with old secrets and staffed by fiercely protective Corsican servants. Scarred and angry, Rafe has serious Beast-from-Beauty-and-the-Beast vibes, except he never kidnaps anyone and actually tries to deal with his serious mental health issues even before Iris brings a more sensible perspective into his life. I appreciated his family relationships, both with his sweet, disfigured maternal aunt and the monstrous father that he nevertheless loved.

Favorite Scene: I really like Rafe’s aunt, who could have easily been a Morality Pet but instead comes across as a capable, kindhearted woman who returns Rafe’s uncharacteristically gentle concern for her welfare.

8. The Pursuit of ... by Courtney Milan (2017)

Exact Setting: 1780s America (on a road trip from Virginia to Maine) and England.

Premise: John Hunter, a black Patriot soldier in the American Revolutionary War, finds himself fighting a white Redcoat who (a) won’t shut up and (b) outright asks John to kill him because he doesn’t want to go home. Instead, John gives the other soldier his jacket and tells him to start a new life in America. The last thing he expects is for the other soldier, Henry Latham, to show up at his camp post-battle and ask how he can repay John for saving his life. It turns out that John could use a companion on the long, perilous trip to his home in Maine, although he’s reluctant to trust a white dude who could choose to disregard his debt at any moment. As the trip progresses, however, they get to know each other and grow closer.

Why I Like It: When I read a Courtney Milan romance, I know that I’m not going to be bored. Her zippy dialogue, sense of humor, and use of interesting themes make even her weaker romances fun reads, and The Pursuit of ... is among her strongest. John and Henry are both engaging, sympathetic characters who interact with each other wonderfully; I especially enjoy how Henry’s incessant loopy patter bounces off of John’s deadpan remarks. The novella also balances its humor very well with serious discussions on what it means to live in a country whose reality falls so short of its ideals.

Favorite Scene: John’s reaction to hearing why Henry’s dad made him join the military.

9. Duke of Sin by Elizabeth Hoyt (2016)

Exact Setting: 1740s England.

Premise: Valentine Napier, the Duke of Montgomery, is a very bad man who goes around blackmailing and kidnapping his fellow aristocrats willy-nilly. Bridget Crumb, his housekeeper, is determined to stop him from blackmailing one lady in particular. They get along surprisingly well! Also, a bunch of crazy shit happens involving the evil society from Duke of Desire.

Why I Like It: I don’t know why, but Valentine Napier just cracks me up. He’s like a hotter, more sinister Dr. Doofenshmirtz, and I love him. He brags to Bridget about doing evil stuff that he doesn’t actually do, and then she goes behind his back and quietly undoes his latest scheme. Then he does something nice for her dog. Then he spouts a lot of flowery poetic nonsense (usually about how he has no heart and she’s a beautiful angel filled with integrity). Then they make out. It’s a beautiful, ridiculous relationship that’s propped up by a delightfully baroque novel.

Favorite Scene: Val sulks because his heartless self can’t relate to his beloved half-sister now that she’s happily married. EVIL.

10. Promised Land by Rose Lerner (2017)

Exact Setting: 1780s America (New York and Virginia).

Premise: Some time ago, Rachel Mendelson left her home and marriage in New York City to disguise herself as Ezra Jacobs and join the Patriot Army. Now she’s a corporal, and the Battle of Yorktown looms on the horizon. And who should show up but Nathan, the husband she loved but couldn’t live with, working as a Patriot spy? As the battle approaches, they struggle to work out the reasons why their first attempt at marriage failed, as well as their future as Jewish Americans.

Why I Like It: Lerner fits a lot of complexity into one novella without ever descending into inelegance. Without a single flashback, she communicates the entire history of Rachel and Nathan’s marriage, which was marked by affection and sexual attraction as well as painful class tensions and family dynamics. She tackles Nathan and Rachel’s differing approaches to their religion in an intelligent, nuanced way. Plus, the battlefield scenes wouldn’t be out of place in Hemingway--like, top-tier Hemingway, not the kind you make fun of.

Favorite Scene: The battlefield scenes, or Rachel’s description of her planned memoirs.

Further Notes: The Leopard Prince is #2 in the Prince Trilogy (which are only very loosely related). To Seduce a Sinner is #2 in the Four Soldiers series, and I would recommend reading the also-very-good To Taste Temptation first. Thief of Shadows, Duke of Sin, and Duke of Pleasure are #4, #10, and #12 in the Maiden Lane series, respectively, and that’s a series that I’d recommend reading in order, because I started with #2 instead of #1 and that alone was confusing. An Unlikely Countess and A Scandalous Countess are both spinoffs of Jo Beverley’s Malloren series, but I enjoyed them despite only reading one Malloren romance proper and one other spinoff. Heartless has a sequel, Silent Melody, which is also very good in a bonkers way. The Pursuit of ... and Promised Land are both part of the Hamilton’s Battalion anthology, plus The Pursuit of ... is technically part of Milan’s Worth Saga, although you don’t need to read any of them to understand it.

#romance novels #the leopard prince #to seduce a sinner #an unlikely countess #thief of shadows #a scandalous countess #heartless #duke of desire #the pursuit of ... #duke of sin #promised land #elizabeth hoyt #jo beverley #mary balogh #courtney milan #rose lerner

[shyvioletcat]

Show Me: Part 6 - Rowaelin

Sorry, I meant to post this on the weekend but I was just crazy exhausted and my writing needed heavy editing. This is the second last part. Next weekend will be the final chapter. I’m actually really excited because I’ve never finished a fic before. Thanks to these lovely people for following and asking to be tagged.

@huntress-of-velaris @aelin-and-feyre @ohmyrowan @viajandosinalas@until-theveryend @rowanismybae @bluephoenix222 @fucking-winchester-trash

Special shout out to @nish247. I think you asked to get tagged ages ago and I forgot. Sorry about that. 

If you want to be tagged or I’ve missed you let me know and I’ll add you to the list. 

~~~~~

Aelin was deflecting, and avoiding, and straight up denying any attempt by Rowan or the others to get her to play the beautiful new instrument that had arrived weeks ago.

Aelin wanted to play, she was yearning for it. But she had had lost count of the many times she sat on the bench and felt nothing. She had tapped at the keys and Rowan had even bought her an array of sheet music, just to give her that extra bit of encouragement. Aelin looked at the notes and at the keys that would bring the music to life but couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

She loved the pianoforte. It made her heart ache at how much thought Rowan had put towards the gesture. She just couldn’t bring herself to play. When Rowan had been in the room during her attempts Aelin saw him become alert, his pine green eyes intent on her. She refused to see them when they fell when nothing became of it.

Besides all that Aelin was tired.

The moments she had sat down at the instrument were stolen between meetings or before she succumbed to complete exhaustion then collapsed into bed. They had been to the theatre a couple of times and each time the music swept Aelin away, but her own expression was a void

Aelin was now hunched over her desk, going over the reports for the upcoming trade agreements with Adarlan. They seemed fair enough, she hadn’t expected Dorian to try and cheat her country of anything, it was practically an agreement between friends. But she needed to be well versed it what was being requested and also given, she didn’t want to seem like a unaware young woman who let those around her run the country. She wanted to show whoever Dorian was going to send that she did her job. And she did her job well.

Finishing the page Aelin lent back in her chair and wondered who in fact Dorian would send. Obviously not Chaol. First of all, Aelin was sure it wasn’t exactly part of his job description. And secondly, he had a small baby. She doubted her loyal hearted friend would want to leave his wife and daughter anytime soon. The thought of Chaol being a father brought a smile to her face. Aelin couldn’t help but smile as she wondered how he  had gone during the birth. Maybe Yrene educated him enough that he was less likely to bolt from the room, red faced when faced with the functionings of the female body.

There was a knock at the door and Aelin called for them to come in. Nox stepped into Aelin’s study and gave a quick bow.

“Majesty, the trade delegation from Adarlan is here.”

Aelin just stared at him for a moment, then tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“The trade delegation. They’ve arrived.”

“They’re no supposed to arrive for days,” Aelin said as she squeezed the bridge of her nose. Then she sighed. Her hands were covered in ink and her clothes were rumpled and a little too casual for meeting an official political delegation. “Thank you, Nox.”

Nox nodded and then left.

Taking one last glance at the trade agreement, Aelin left her study and made her way back to her private chambers to quickly bath and change to officially greet her visitors. She entered her suite of rooms assuming she’d be alone, Rowan was off in the city doing something that didn’t require fine clothes. So when she saw a male figure standing in her lounge area she halted and went for the non existent weapon at her side. Then she realised who it was and let out a broken laugh.

“Dorian?”

~~~~~

Dorian turned as he heard his name and smiled at the Queen of Terrasen. She came out of what he assumed was a defensive stance and walked towards him. He met her halfway with an embrace which she readily returned, they held onto each other tightly for a moment. Aelin’s eyes were shining when she pulled away and Dorian felt emotion rising in his own chest.

“You’re the trade delegation?” Aelin asked as she took him in.

Dorian gave an indulgent shrug, “I wanted to make sure you weren’t taking my country for all it’s worth.”

Aelin laughed, wiping at her eyes . “These surprises will be the end of me.”

Dorian laughed at that and went to say something along the lines of you get what you’re given, but Aelin held up her hand and waved him off.

“I know, I know,” she said, “Rowan’s already lectured me. Multiple times.”

Dorian now took in Aelin as she had him. She looked well. Healthy. But Rowan was right, there was something missing. Just that little spark. He wasn’t surprised, a little concerned maybe, but he was pressed to think of anyone who wasn’t still harbouring some form of scar after the war. Aelin led them to a couch and they sat.

“How’s Chaol? And Yrene? How are you?” Aelin rattled off and she tucked her feet under her, facing him with her arm stretched along the back of the couch.

“They’re both… tired,” Dorian said with a smile. “Myria has her father wrapped around her little finger. Yrene adores watching them together. But a baby is hard work, especially when they’re both working so hard for our country.”

Aelin was smiling, “and?”

Dorian bristled. By that wicked grin he knew what was coming, but decided to bait her anyway. “And what?”

“How are you? How are you… and Manon?”

“I think I’m much like you,” Dorian said. “Tired to my bones, barely a moment of peace. But I am well. As well as I can be.”

Aelin just gave him a long look. It made Dorian laugh.

“Manon is well,” Dorian said with a shrug, “you could ask her yourself. She’s here. That’s how I got here. Much quicker to travel by wyvern”

Aelin’s eyebrows rose in surprise, a knowing smile on her lips.

But Dorian’s face fell when he said, “She’s down on the plain.”

The two friends became quiet at that. Indeed. Everyone was carrying scars.

To make sure Aelin didn’t pry further into his and Manon’s personal life Dorian turned to the pianoforte that had become the feature of the room. He’d seen it before. He was glad it had arrived all the way from Adarlan unscathed.

“That,” Dorian said with a nod to the pianoforte, “is a beautiful instrument. That colour… it’s like whoever commissioned that knew you very well.”

Aelin gaped at him a little and Dorian smiled.

“It was you! You helped Rowan with all of it!” She gave his shoulder a shove. “How did I not think of that before.”

“Most likely because you haven’t had a moment of quiet to think about it. He didn’t tell you?” Dorian asked as he rose from the couch and went to the instrument.

“No,” Aelin replied as she followed. “Rowan said something about a gentleman having his secrets. I reminded him he’s about the furthest you can get from being a real gentleman but he still wouldn’t tell me.”

Dorian sat on the bench and patted the seat next to him, Aelin complied and sat down next to him. “I would say he’s genteel enough.”

Aelin gave a snort of laughter. Aelin still didn’t reach for the keys so he did. With one hand he started to play a simple child’s song.

“I didn’t know you played,” Aelin said, pretended shock in her voice.

“My mother had me take lessons, but I developed other pursuits,” he said glancing at Aelin.

Aelin laughed and gave him a knowing look.

“I was talking about sword fighting, Aelin,” Dorian said.

That only made Aelin laugh harder.

Dorian played the song through again and he noticed how intently Aelin watched his fingers.

“I remember,” Dorian said, playing clumsily through a few notes, “a lovely young woman who could play beautifully. She played in a way I had never heard before, she lived through that music.”

Dorian watched as Aelin’s hand hovered over the keys of then curled into a fist, then she rested it down by her thigh. Dorian stopped playing.

“I… I,” Aelin’s voice broke. “I don’t think that woman exists anymore.”

Dorian looked at Aelin, tears were falling down her cheeks and he rested his hand on her still clenched fist.

“Of course she doesn’t. Either does that boy who was reckless enough to fall for an assassin,” Dorian smiled as Aelin let out a shuddering laugh. “There was no outcome from what we went through that would let us remain whole. Everyone lost a part of themselves, for good or for bad.”

“I know,” Aelin said as she wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “But that part of my soul, my mortal soul, it… died. It held so much of who I was. I want it to be part of me again, I want to feel those things again. But they’re gone.”

Dorian wrapped his arm around his friend, pulling her closer to him.

“I shut off many parts of myself. Buried them so deep it took me a long time to reconnect with those parts. Which I know is nothing compared to what happened to you. But…” Dorian took in a deep breath as he thought of Chaol, of Manon, even Aelin, “But the thing is it took me realising that there is no going back, our only choice move forward and to rediscover or reforge those missing parts of us. I didn’t find myself, I didn’t heal, alone. We’re here Aelin. You ask and any of us will be there for you. Anyone of of your friends, your family, will do anything you ask of us. Just say what you need and it’s yours.”

“I know, I know,” Aelin said quietly. “I just don’t know how.”

Dorian sat there with his arm around his friend, waiting for Aelin to move away, letting her decide when she had taken all the comfort she needed.

It was a long while before Aelin stood up, a small and hopeful smile on her face.

#parts of show me #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #post kingdom of ash #my writing #works of shyvioletcat

[kultiranstrawberry]

“Set Your House In Order” Epilogue: Mi Casa es Su Casa (1/2)

Mae sat nervously awaiting Hannah Strauss’s arrival. The young priestess took after her mother in not being economically savvy. She would choose to be in a church, on a beach, or at a ball before she would willingly step into a business meeting. Unfortunately, recent events left her with little choice.

Wearing her finest robes in House Davar’s traditional colors of red and black, Mae looked to Kaladin, who was kind enough to accompany her for the meeting. Having him around did much to put her at ease. “So I do not remember much of your sister beyond rumors. Any advice?”

There were few things Kaladin dreaded. These past months he had dealt with old god cults, and political espionage, however those were rather easy to step into. A meeting with Hannah however made the others seem like minor inconveniences.  He stood behind the small refreshments table near the wall, dressed up in something nicer than his usual seaman's long coat, and wore a well-fitted blue coat, and an equally colored vest beneath.

Pouring himself a glass of wine, he turned to Mae. "Whenever she speaks most of what she's saying is disingenuous unless it's regarding business details. She'll probably pretend to be your best friend, probably compliment you in some fashion, but she does that to everybody. Sometimes she'll do it in a way that's mildly insulting." He took a short sip of wine.

"She's very cunning, and practical minded. Rennic would always try and appeal to her ego, so uhm... try that."

Maegerie did not want to seem out of her depth. Kaladin could only prepare her so much, but it was better than being caught slack-jawed. She liked to believe people were inclined to be genuine, but Kaladin knew his sister better than she did, so she would be careful.

A few moments later, shouldered by a well-groomed servant on either side of her, came the woman of the hour. Dressed in a simple, but elegant, dress made of blue gossamer that hugged her sonsy frame sparkled in the light as she walked into the sitting room. "I do apologize for keeping you both waiting," Hannah said politely, her voice silvery and polite, "I did not expect my meeting before this to take as long as it did—you know how Tiragardians are though, yes? Schedules are more of a suggestion to them," she snickered.

Hannah was, as Mae was warned, the picture of proper politeness. The priestess smiled and nodded, accepting the apology. “You’re a busy woman, Miss Strauss. I’m just glad you could find the time to meet with me.”

Her eyes turned to Maegerie and her brow creased. "Leora sent your message, though it was rather vague. I got more information from some of the soldiers who were on the way back to Boralus." Her shoulders drooped, "My dear, I am so sorry for your loss..." She said softly, her shoulder drooped down. "As someone who only lost their father not so long ago, both Kaladin and I can sympathize with you. I was absolutely heart broken when I heard that your mother had passed."

Maegerie was still reeling from the loss of her mother, but she was not going to show weakness in front of Hannah. If Kaladin was to be believed, her condolences were likely insincere. She already hated the world of business and politics where she had to assume the worst in everyone. “I appreciate the sentiment. Her loss is truly tragic, but I have to concern myself with the well-being of the living.

Gesturing to the seat across from her and taking her own seat, Mae steeled her nerves. “As a woman with her ear to the ground, I’m sure you’ve heard of House Davar’s current situation. My mother made poor choices with selecting a benefactor. I wish to do better. It was my hope that we could work out an arrangement between our two houses. A partnership of sorts.”

Kaladin wasn't at all of fan of business meetings. He had zoned out during most of his father's lectures as a child, and hardly any of his expertise rubbed off on him. He was content in remaining in the background as morale support, his nose buried in a half-empty wine glass as he watched the negotiations play out. He'd be there to help if Mae needed him, but he knew how much contempt Hannah had for him. He didn't want to ruin anything by... well, talking.

Kaladin had missed lunch for this. He was in the mood for fried haddock. Luckily, he had picked up some mainland spices before returning to Kul Tiras.

Hannah gave Maegerie a dazzling smile, "Your mother—choice of benefactors aside—has raised you well then. Not many can bring themselves to be so selfless and put their people above their own emotions. It takes a selfless, dutiful heart with a strong spirit to do that. I commend you for it, my dear." She adjusted her shawl, which shimmered as light bounced off of the diamonds and gems sewn into it, and sat down across from them both. "Politics aside, I always liked how much you and Kaladin got along. Perhaps some of your temperance and good nature could rub off on him, yes?" She threw back her head with a summery laugh, her two manservants giving a polite chuckle along with their mistress.

Mae forced a smile. She teased Kaladin plenty, but that’s because he was her… well, Kaladin. Knowing his relationship with his family, she felt a flare of defensiveness, but she held her tongue. Control. “He’s rough around the edges, but I’d still say I’ve known few men better.” She glanced at Kaladin and her smile became more genuine.

Kaladin ignored Hannah's jibe despite the venom that seemed to ooze from it. Still, it was far from her worst, and regardless of what he thought she ultimately held the fate of Mae's family in her scaly hands. Another sip from his glass, then he poured more for himself.

Then he wondered where he could get yams. That should spice things up a bit.

"It was a joke, it was a joke, I assure you," Hannah chuckled. "Kaladin is a fine young man; perhaps one who is not as combed and finely groomed for the blasé of court or business, but a fine young man." Her fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass as it was placed into her hand by her manservant. "It was never my call, personally, but I never thought of him as the sort for being a Tidesage, myself. His puckish personality, his charm and demure in the face of danger, I always thought he would've done well at sea! A sailor perhaps. Or a privateer even! Very lucrative and honourable position these days," she remarked. Her expressed was difficult to read, a pleasant smile and a genteel expression carved in steel.

Very lucrative and honorable, She says. Kaladin hid his frown behind a glass of wine. His contempt for his sister grew with every jab, but an aching voice at the back of his mind told him to hold his tongue. It was her pen that got him pardoned after Amaram branded him a deserter -- which for some reason made him dislike her even more.

"So, my own feelings about you aside," Hannah said as she looked back to the two, "I am delighted to hear that House Davar would be so willing to look for a patron. Especially from amongst the common blood such as us. Although we are not gentry ourselves, I assure you that we have the merit and prowess to support you more thoroughly and with less...baggage, than the Ashvanes." She leaned back into her chair and crossed one of her legs over the other. She snapped her manicured fingers and pointed to the bottle of wine on the table. One of the manservants gave a small dip of their head and began to pour her a glass of wine, her hand out for it expectantly as she looked over Maegerie. "What sort of partnership were you looking for, my dear? Financial backing, industrial support, or did have something else in mind?"

Hannah was open to a partnership, but they both knew the position of power she had over House Davar. Mae would gain nothing from posturing. “Financial backing, industrial control, estate management. House Davar was experiencing difficulties before Ashvane’s intervention, and it is only compounded now. House Strauss has much to gain and could very well be the only way out of this for my estate and the people who live there.”

Maegerie took a sip of her own wine to give her a few more ounces of courage. “I understand my position and I am not a foolish child. I’m prepared to offer the one thing no other partner in Kul Tiras would offer.”

Hannah's glossed lips pursed as she looked to Maegerie. "No other partner in Kul Tiras, now?" She swished the wine inside of her glass coolly before bringing it up to her lips and taking a small sip. "You honour my family and I with your kind words as well, to hold us in such high esteem is truly something cherish, my lady." She took another sip, "You already have me enthralled and beguiled. Tell me, my dear; what is this partnership you wish to propose?"

Up until that moment, Hannah was doing well to act like she saw Maegerie as a respectable potential business partner. In truth, Mae was sure Hannah was humoring her and ready to politely dismiss whatever an indebted noblewoman could muster up as her strongest offer. Mae just had to hope her plan was too enticing and unexpected not to consider.

"Well, Miss Strauss. No one would deny your family's power in Kul Tiras. Economically and politically, you hold a lot of sway. For that reason, anyone in any noble family recognizes the danger our letting your house grow too strong." Maegerie set her glass down and propped her elbows on the table, folding her hands in front of her chin. "They make sure there are tables a Strauss cannot sit at. You said it yourself; the Strausses are a common family; rich, but never quite gentry."

Maegerie took a deep breath. "Unless, perhaps, a noble house was joined with your house. I would seek out an arrangement to fold House Davar, with its lands, holdings, and more importantly, lordships, into House Strauss."

( @tides-toll-the-dead @leora-strauss )

#maegerie #kaladin strauss #house davar #rp #kul tiras #the adventurers society #hannah strauss

[nataliesnews]

Shlomiet Steinitz, Natanya Ginsburg

 I received a comment from a friend overseas to whom I sent the report previously. It is necessary when one writes in English or translates to explain details which to anyone overseas and also to many Israelis is not as clear as it is to those of us who have been engaged in Machsomwatch and other activities since the beginning of this weird and not at all wonderful century, 2000.

 A DCO is an office run by the military  and which serves Palestinians of various areas who need magnetic cards, work permits, permits for one time entry into Israel for health, family or religious reasons, various police permits Also for those who are called into the General Security Service for investigation or who are prevented from entering Israel for criminal or anti-Israel activities. Those who are called in by the GSS are often treated to an invasion by the army in the early hours of the morning to attend such an investigation. Thunderous knocks on the door which, if not opened quickly enough is then broken down.   It is a wonderful opportunity to assure the families and the small children of the attention that the most enlightened army in the world feels is due to them. Those who are luckier are  phoned at some reasonable hour during the day. Many of those who are invited to these delightful meetings find that they have been called in with the kind invitation to act as collaborators and help to bring their more unfortunate neighbours to “justice”. Of course this is not a threat. Just a gentle reminder that if they do not cooperate they themselves will be encouraged by maybe having their work permits taken away or that some other genteel method of punishment will be employed.  

 We sit outside in the parking lot because of the Corona. There is a hall where people can wait and which is sometimes packed to capacity though lately people go through to the offices fairly quickly. Unless of course all the soldiers have taken their well deserved lunch break.  This of course is never announced but just happens.

 One of the major problems which we come up against every time we are at the DCO is the fact that the policeman who is supposed to be on duty is rarely there and we have never been able to find out exactly at what time or what day he will be there. As many of the problems which the Palestinians face and which often include their turning to Sylvia for help is the fact that if they are police prevented they first have to have a document from the latter stating what the reason is for their not being able to receive a permit. This time also our message to N. were not answered and there was no we could turn to. As a result people left in anger.

 An exceedingly full day in which we encountered a micro view of the  problems which the Palestinians encounter each day . It  does not matter how long and for how many years  we have been at the checkpoints, how much we have seen, how much we see daily  on facebook and the other reports, how terrible the attacks are on the farmers of the occupied areas, how more and more often lethal attempts are made on the lives of Palestinians as they sleep in their own homes. But today we left the DCO    emptied and shattered about what we are doing to these people. I will allow myself to  put in a personal note. A friend phoned me as we were leaving and said that on Friday there would be a very important walk in the Jerusalem hills to save out forests from the builders who only have one thing in mind. I said to her that I was so disgusted at what we are doing  that I really do not care about the harm we are doing to nature, that I do not feel that we have the right to a normal life. Both Shlomiet and I feel that it is harder and harder to deal with ecological problems here in Israel when, every week, we encounter people who are living a life which is like being in a giant jail.

 One man said to me, “You have no idea of what sort of a life this is. You go from place to place without being stopped to be checked. You visit one another. You can go to the bus station with no problem. You can go overseas. You have the security which we no longer know in anything we do. We no longer remember what a normal life was lie.”

 A man who had a permit to enter Israel was turned back at the checkpoint because there is a member of his family who has Corona. His brother with whom for family reasons he has had no connections for three years has Corona,. He has not seen or even spoken to him  in that time. He himself was checked for Corona on the 8th March and found in good health. Today Shlomiet wrote to N. on various occasions but he was not available.

 Another case of a man who went to the checkpoint with a permit but was turned back.  He had a work accident and needs to get to the hospital for a checkup. He was waiting for his father but then his anger overpowered him and they simply drove off after despairing if getting a reply.

 The bugger of one of those who came to us with all the necessary papers…we have had this kind of case before……he has paid the fine but each time when he goes to free the vehicle he is told to come about the next day. We gave him the telephone of Amanda who is seems has not been well but has now returned to work.

 One man who simply speaking for a friend in Gaza kept saying  “But we only need some medicine for him”……his friend had been working in Israel and knocked down by a car. He spent three weeks in the emergency section and was then sent back to Gaza where he is also in hospital and his legs many be amputated. Unfortunately the man was illegally in Israel and so there is nothing that can be done for him. He can only take a lawyer and try to sue the insurance firm of the driver who knocked him down. We do not know what his financial state is but, if he was so desperate that he came into Israel to work, we doubt he would be able to afford it…….and probably would not really know how to go about it. I spoke to Hana Barag and she explained the situation to me. Then I found the same man talking to Shlomiet and begging that we do something to help his friend. One cannot blame them going from one of us to the other.

 In fact we often come away feeling that we have given them hope which is just a broken reed to grasp at. We always advise them also about going to lawyers but time and time again we are told of thousands of shekels being paid to charlatans who do nothing.

 When we come through the tunnels to the DCO we see all the traffic, all Israeli, on the road. At 10 am one wonders who these people are….are these the settlers and if so at that time of day should they not already be at work instead of clogging up the roads.

 The owner of a house in Beit Safafa where his wife lives told us that though he pays  arnona, he is a Palestinian citizen and is unable to get a permit visit her. Who else but Sylvia to turn to and again  he is one of those who comes here day after day to get the necessary paper from the policeman who is never here so as to turn to her.

 Shlomit spoke to Michal Zadik about a young man who was released from the Ramon jail but his magnetic card and cell phone amongst other belongings were not returned to him and, of course, he cannot enter Jerusalem to fetch his belongings. Surely the face that his belongings are belongings are not returned to him by the police is a criminal action in itself?  Michal will do this.

 The father of a young man, evidently from a rich family as they have a fleet of very impressive cars, is suffering from cancer and has   to go to Augusta Victoria. But for some reason the young man is being prevented from accompanying his by the General Security Services….just to make if clear though that the police have to give a document saying why someone is prevented but for reasons of “state security’ the GSS does not have to do so. His brothers are deaf and the mother is herself ill. He left without waiting for us to help him. But he also has a relation who is a lawyer

 A worker from Ramat Beit Shemesh is fortunate that his employers are very keen to have him back at work but he also cannot deal with his problem until he is fortunate enough also to encounter the phantom policeman.

 Three Christian men who again asked about the vaccination and were told that only the workers are being vaccinated by Israel….surely this is also a war crime. They belong to the Syrian church but though we also spoke to two nuns and advised them to see if the church cannot help they said that the church says that nothing can be done. Hanna also said that there would be a general closure during Passover. So while we celebrate the holiday of freedom we imprison  the Palestinians in the  throes of bureaucracy and the enlightened state of Israel. And when they left they thanked us for trying to help and we felt as if someone was putting salt on the wounds of our impotence.

 No we did not encounter physical violence, but just harassment and mental cruelty and the power which one time slaves have come to enjoy as their rights.