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acenettle · 5 years

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Pillars Prompts Weekly prompt 0072: Story inspired by a seasonal song

Unfortunately, while I had an idea for a story, the song’s really... not... in English. Erm. I’ve included a rough translation at the end of the story, but I’m not sure how much that’ll do.

Features Vela and an orlan fire godlike Watcher.

The girl and the sparrow

It was the dead of winter by the time they made it back to Caed Nua. A recent blizzard had piled drifts as tall as an adult orlan against the shattered walls, and what little of the keep itself remained was once more strewn with rubble. But there was a candle burning in the window of the Game Warden’s Lodge, and after a moment of deliberation, that was where Elzana headed, the shivering Vela in tow.

The warden welcomed his Lady back with cries of disbelief; everyone had thought Elzana dead, and with the young miss Vela missing, Caed Nua had been presumed a lost ruin once more. Elzana listened to the warden’s woes and then reassured him that she was here to stay, and that the keep would be restored to its former glory. She had returned from Deadfire with ample funds, after all; they would only need to wait for more favourable weather, and then the rebuilding effort would begin in earnest.

In the meantime, however, there was little to do but settle down into the cottage. While not very large, it had room enough for the bust of the Steward and the two orlans - or rather an orlan and a godlike the size of one. The warden regarded the Steward with relief and his Lady with politeness, but he absolutely doted on Vela. He even found the young orlan a knit cap and a scarf so long it must have belonged to a particularly tall aumaua, and the little girl shrieked and laughed in happiness as she raced through the gardens and played in the snow.

Or not so little any more, Elzana mused. At seven, Vela came to stand almost at the height of her eyes; a few inches more, and the child would be as tall as a grown woman, and that much closer to inheriting the keep. She really did have to continue Vela’s lessons soon, especially the combat training; it simply wouldn’t do for the future Lady of Caed Nua to be unable to defend herself. But perhaps that, too, could wait until spring; certainly she could afford for Vela to be but a carefree child a moment longer.

***

Over the following days, the sky finally cleared and the bitter winds died down. Apparently word of the Watcher’s return had gotten around, for people kept dropping by, some from the surrounding farmsteads, some from as far away as Dyrford. If Elzana had learned anything from her recent stint as a successful sea captain, it was that booze was excellent at keeping everyone’s spirits up. And so, even as people began repairing some of the smaller buildings in hopes of getting the keep running again, she sent for food and drink; they’d make a bonfire out of the material that had to be discarded, and have themselves a midwinter banquet.

For her part, Vela was thoroughly excited by all the people, as if she hadn’t just seen breathtaking wonders quite beyond a small gathering in the Dyrwood. But then, her spirit had always been amazingly strong; Elzana recalled with dry amusement and a lingering sense of anger that it had been what had almost gotten the girl killed in the first place. She herself had seen red the moment she’d learned how the child had been treated by those who were supposed to be looking after her. As if Readceras hadn’t already been bad enough.

Right now it seemed all Vela cared about was making friends; when she was rebuked a few times too often by the dwarves and folk working on repairs, she set her eyes on the little birds that darted around the tables in search for food. With a spring in her step the girl disappeared into the lodge, and once she returned she was hugging a bag of grain against her chest. She only needed to set the bag down and throw out a couple of handfuls before she’d gathered herself a rapt little audience. Then one of the sparrows landed on the girl’s outstretched palm, and the child barely dared to breathe. Quietly, Elzana went to stand next to her daughter.

“Watcher, look at the birds,” Vela said. “Do you think they’d want to be friends with me?”

“They just want the food, my little maid. But provide it for them often enough, and they’ll learn to trust you.”

“They’re so grey and drab, nothing like Ishi or the other birds in Deadfire. Why do you think that is?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, dear, but I’ll be sure to ask Hylea if she ever happens to show her face to me again.”

“Well, I think I like them anyway.” The sparrow took flight, but landed a short distance away in the snow. Something about the bird nagged at Elzana’s memory, and she opened up her senses to the small thing – and took a sharp breath. She grabbed Vela by the shoulder.

“Child, I think you were right about them wanting to be your friends. That one – he used to be a small boy, running in these very halls.” She concentrated, coaxed the name out of the memory. “Lendry.”

“Lendry? My friend Lendry?” And now Vela’s lip was suddenly quivering. Not used to waterworks, Elzana rushed to reassure her.

“Hush, little mite, don’t cry.” But if anything, her words worked only to unstopper Vela’s tears. For a moment Elzana was at a loss, but then she became aware of how Vela’s soul, usually burning so bright, was flickering in distress. And of course it was only last spring that she’d lost all those little friends of hers, and the nursemaid who’d seen to her needs, and the cook who prepared her favourite treats and… and everything, really. Everything and everyone. Even the strongest of souls had a breaking point, and perhaps what she had thought of as a happy and carefree demeanour wasn’t really all that.

Swallowing a piece that had lodged itself into her throat, Elzana pulled the girl into a tight hug. “No, here I’m talking nonsense again. Listen to me now, my daughter. You walked out of a disaster that killed damn near everyone else, you sailed half across the world, fought pirates and braved storms the like I hope we’ll never see again. And all that time, not a peep from you. You never cried and you never complained. You were strong when I needed you to be, and put on a brave face when you had to. But now… now I’m telling you a secret.”

“Yes?” Vela managed between her quiet sobs.

“Nobody can keep that much hurt and pain inside themselves forever. There has to come a time to let it all out. Otherwise, it merely crystallises and starts cutting you up inside. And now… all is well, Vela. Your friends escaped into the world before the Wheel stopped. And in time, the Wheel will be mended, just as the keep will be. I’m well and you’re well, Vela. It’s safe to cry.”

Vela hugged her tightly, and let the tears come. They sat together on the lodge’s porch, even as workers and visitors came and went around them. Eventually, Vela wiped her eyes, and they simply remained in silence and watched the birds, until they’d finished eating and, one by one, darted away again.

Elzana shifted and stretched out her legs. “It will be dark soon,” she said. “They’re probably setting up the bonfire as we speak. Are you ready to go, my little maid?”

“I guess so, mother.” It was a rare thing for Vela to call her that; having been raised by a nursemaid like she had, she usually referred to her as the Watcher, just like everyone else. Feeling moved all of sudden, Elzana adjusted Vela’s cup and rested an arm around the girl’s shoulders as they made their way towards the path leading around the rubble.

"The sailors used to sing about a Lendry,” Vela ventured quietly.

"It’s a common enough name, moppet.”

"Yes, but could you sing it for me? Please?”

Recalling the shanty in question, Elzana did. She’d never had the best of singing voices, but then, neither had most of the sailors, and Vela did not seem to mind. She listened with rapt attention as they walked, and joined in for the last verse of the song.

"...heave away, my Lendry boy. We’re all bound to go."

And come back one day, Elzana thought as she once more spotted the bird that held the little boy’s soul, gods and kith willing.

And here’s the song “Sparven om julmorgonen,” “Sparrow on Christmas morning,” which goes roughly like this:

Now the white snow has fallen, fallen on birches and linden trees. The clear sea has frozen, waiting for spring winds. The little sparrow, destitute sparrow, ate up his stores from summer, The clear sea has frozen, waiting for spring winds.

By a green cottage’s door stood a little girl: “Little sparrow, come here, come and have some grain! Now it’s Christmas in our hut, little sparrow, dirty and grey. Little sparrow, come here, come and have some grain!”

The sparrow flew to the girl’s feet, flew on glad wings: “Gladly I’ll take the grain, the grain that you bring me. God will surely reward you, you who are a dear friend. Gladly I’ll take the grain, the grain that you bring me.”

“But I am not who you think I am, the one whom your eyes see. I am your little brother, who died away in the spring. When you gladly gave your bread to the poor who was in need, You gave to your little brother, who died away in the spring.”

#pillars prompts weekly #pillars of eternity 2 #deadfire #vela #pillars fan fiction #fan fiction #varpunen jouluaamuna #is what this song's called in finnish #and I guess back when it was written nobody liked sparrows much #I think they were considered pests?#nettle's stories

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vintagegeekculture · 3 years

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The Chinese Cultural Inspirations for Dragon Ball Z and Super

Journey to the West was only the beginning.

A lot of people are vaguely aware that Dragon Ball was inspired by Chinese culture and Hong Kong Kung Fu movies and novels, but are unaware of how deep and long lasting it goes. The Japanese spent the 1980s fascinated by China, which opened up from being a closed society for decades in 1978; the most famous human being in Japan in the 80s was either Michael Jackson or Jackie Chan.

In fact, a lot of people commonly believe that the Chinese action movie and Kung Fu novel cultural and media influence on Dragon Ball ended very early on. This is untrue. Sure, we started to see qipaos and cheongsams less frequently when they headed to West City, but it absolutely did not finish, because there’s tons of influence to see even as impossibly late as Dragon Ball Super. Interestingly, I don’t think any of these point of inspirations have been pointed out before, mainly because a lot of Chinese adventure novels are simply not available in English.

The Piccolo/Gohan plot was inspired by the Chinese action novel “Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre.”

Okay, tell me if you’ve heard this story before: a truly demonic, weird looking monster villain is defeated by a martial arts hero, but by circumstance, is forced into training his greatest enemy’s young son. The villain trains the young boy, the son of his enemy, in martial arts and over time, becomes like a second father or uncle to him and his family, putting the boy in his “evil” sect, and thanks to his love of his rival’s son, this baddie turns over a new leaf and goes from evil to just…grumpy, and becomes a loyal, though gruff, ally of the boy.

Of course, the events of Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre are a bit different from Dragon Ball in details. The Lion King becomes Wuji’s teacher because they are both stranded together on an island after a shipwreck, for instance, and he is blinded and made vulnerable. Also, the Lion King wasn’t so much evil so much as he was misunderstood by the orthodox martial world. However, in broad outlines, this trajectory for a face turn (becomes friends with his greatest enemy’s son, and becomes like a second father to him as he trains him, causing the villain to become a gruff good guy and ally) is essentially from one of the most famous Chinese novels ever written in the 1960s.

Oh, and while we’re at it, Gohan is likewise inspired by another character from a Louis Cha novel: the Prince of Dali Duan Yu in the Kung Fu novel Demigods and Semi-Devils. The Prince in that novel is a naïve, pacifistic scholar who prefers books to fighting, and who was raised to be timid and avoid combat, absolutely out of step with his family, all of whom are martial artists and warriors. In fact, the beginning of the story is the prince gets incredibly lost in the wilderness, where the hopelessly naïve prince is utterly out of his depth, with all the robbers and scary beasts, and needs to be saved by real martial artists that protect him like fairy godparents. He spends the first part of the story running away from everything, scared as hell. However, by circumstance, he has naturally high power he cannot fully initially control, and eventually realizes that even scholars and others who hate fighting have to sometimes become fighters to protect those they love.

The Duan Yu part of Demigods and Semi-Devils was made into a film, the Battle Wizard, which was reviewed by PewDiePie. The Dragonball similarities went over his head because, honestly, PewDiePie does not strike me as a perceptive person.

Hit was based on the screen persona of Chow Yun Fat.

Chow Yun Fat was a Hong Kong cinema superstar who was to director John Woo what Robert de Niro was to Martin Scorsese. There are three giveaways that Hit was based on Chow Yun Fat. One, he’s an assassin, same as Chow Yun Fat’s character in the Killer, and is even given a sequence that’s a John Woo homage with an assassination in an office building with guns pulled on an empty elevator in an act of misdirection. Second, he’s wearing the single piece of clothing Chow Yun Fat is associated with, a black trenchcoat (fun fact: in Hong Kong today, trenchcoats are called Brother Mark Coats, after Chow Yun Fat’s character in John Woo’s A Better Tomorrow). Third, his power is essentially bullet time, a visual technique refined by John Woo in Hong Kong in the 80s and 90s in his gunplay triad movies starring Chow Yun Fat (what, you think the Wachowskis invented it?).

The Goku/Vegeta relationship is from “Legend of the Condor Heroes.”

Here’s a story you might have heard before. It’s about two rivals, but by circumstance, one is raised in the wilderness beyond civilization, where he becomes an honest and goodhearted, though overly naive bumpkin, martial arts prodigy. The other is raised a wealthy prince by a conquering enemy, who grows up to also become an armor wearing martial arts expert, but also a cunning, arrogant, emotionally distant sociopath.

The similarities go into their love lives, too. The unsophisticated bumpkin hero is betrothed to a daughter of a powerful bearded barbarian king against his will, while the one hint of vulnerability and loss of emotional detachment in the otherwise sociopathic prince, the crack in his smirky arrogance, is that he loves a girl he otherwise pretends to hate, and even fathers a child with her who becomes a main character later.

This is Guo Jing and Yang Kang from Legend of the Condor Heroes. The most fascinating similarity, and proof that female psychology is the same all over the world, is that the fangirls love the emotionally distant, arrogant, and sexy/evil prince (remember when Rhonda Rousey said her first crush was Vegeta?). Girls everywhere love bad boys and sexy villains, and oh boy, do they love Prince Yang Kang. I think you can probably guess who all the fan art is about for Legend of the Condor Heroes, and what ship is the most popular.

I have to emphasize that Legend of the Condor Heroes, which came out in the 1950s-60s, is possibly the most widely read novel by the most widely read novelist on earth - the sales on that dwarf Twilight and Harry Potter. It’s probably not an exaggeration to say nearly every Chinese person, even if they never read it, knows who these characters are. In fact, Yang Kang and Guo Jing from Condor Heroes are basically repeated over and over in Asian, Chinese, and Japanese culture. Does the unsophisticated but gifted martial arts prodigy bumpkin hero, and the glib, arrogant wealthy prince rival remind you of….another duo of rivals?

Gohan/Videl comes from Little Dragon Maiden

One of the most important and influential Martial Arts novels of all time is “Return of the Condor Heroes.” A sequel to Condor Heroes, this time, the main character is the teenage son of one of the main characters from the first novel. It gets even more familiar from there.

“Return of the Condor Heroes” was about a martial arts couple who are also master and student, the same age but vastly different in experience and skill so one somehow seems “older,” and they fall in love because the circumstances of training together requires they spend lots of time together and become intimate. The training story and the love story are exactly the same in “Return of the Condor Heroes.” The dead giveaway one story inspired the other is that in both, the most significant training sequence is one where the master teaches the student how to fly (though Return used a chamber of sparrows for lightness Kung Fu).

There are some differences of course – obviously in Return of the Condor Heroes, the genders of teacher and student are flipped from Gohan and Videl (it’s the Little Dragon Maiden who is a powerful teacher, and the boy who is the student). It was the girl (Videl) who was a rebellious delinquent in Dragon Ball Z, when it was the opposite in the novel, true. But it was obvious this story was in the back of the creator’s mind as a way to combine Kung Fu with the love story, by making teacher and student lovers.

Addendum: hey, remember that awesome movie Kung Fu Hustle, the one Hong Kong movies normies have seen? Well, remember the landlord and landlady? The landlady was named Xiao Lung Nu, or Little Dragon Maiden, and her husband was named Yang Guo – the same as the main characters in Return of the Condor Heroes. It was a joke that went over the heads of Westerners, by giving these names of attractive and naïve young people in love with each other to a surly, bitter, arguing and chain smoking middle aged couple who don’t give a damn.

Going Super Saiyan comes from “Reincarnated” aka “Bastard Swordsman.”

Stop me if this sounds familiar: a terrifying warlord tyrant prone to killing underlings who displease him has achieved a level of skill and cultivation so tremendous nobody can stop him. But there is one, and only one, thing he fears and that can defeat him: a long-lost legendary skill that nobody has achieved in recent memory, that includes a supernatural combat power transformation that turns the hair light to indicate it worked.

This is “Silkworm Skill” from Reincarnated aka Bastard Swordsman, a novel and TV series from Hong Kong in the early 1980s. Of course, there are differences. To get the power boost and new hair color, the hero has to jump in a cocoon he weaves himself. In fact, the scene is so well known that they actually have it on the poster.

(To those saying “Super Saiyan turns your hair blonde, not white” my response is that it turns hair white, or uncolored, in the comic book.)

The idea of your hair turning white to indicate a new supernatural combat transformation or martial state wasn’t created by Bastard Swordsman, though – though it is the best example and probably the one most familiar to a 1980s audience due to the hugely popular books and TV series. For an older example, a famous Chinese movie based on a folktale is “Bride With the White Hair,” about a bride who’s hair turns white when she is betrayed, in her anger, she becomes less a woman and more a supernatural creature of vengeance (interesting that anger should be the means to unlock it).

#dragon ball z #china #kung fu #martial arts #anime

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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761.

Does anyone know your bank pin number other than you? Who? >> Yeah, Sparrow does.

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend who was depressed? >> Sure.

Would you be able to climb out your bedroom window to sneak out? >> Absolutely not, I live on the third floor. --Well, I could climb out, and I might even survive, but... let’s just say it’s pretty goddamn risky. Anyway, I’m an adult and I don’t have to sneak out of my own apartment, so it’s irrelevant.

What would you do if you found out the last person you called was pregnant/got someone pregnant? >> ---

Can you taste the difference between brand name food and store brand food? >> Depends on the food. Some foods are pretty easy to dupe and it’s not a problem, but not all of them.

Would you be embarrassed to buy pads/tampons/condoms? Which one more? >> No, dude.

If a stranger went in your bedroom, would they be able to tell what gender you are from just looking at it? >> I don’t know what someone would guess, it depends on what people use as markers for gender. Besides, I don’t subscribe to a specific gender, so whatever they’d guess would be wrong regardless.

Are your parents gullible? >> ---

Do you still own a VCR? >> I’ve never owned a VCR. By the time I left home, DVDs had won the battle.

About how much money have you spent on food in the past two weeks? >> I haven’t spent any money on food. Sparrow’s unemployment checks have paid for the groceries, because just one of those was still more than I get in a month.

If you were in a car accident would the last person you kissed care? >> I mean, of course the Inworlders would care.

If you were looking for a new pair of shoes where would you go? >> I wouldn’t go anywhere, right now. But in general, I still have no idea where I would go. I’ve always hated shoe shopping, almost more than I hate other clothes shopping.

How much was the last pair of shoes you bought? >> The last pair of shoes I got were about $70 or $80. I didn’t buy them, Sparrow did.

What color is the computer/laptop you’re on? Did you buy it yourself? >> Silver. No, Sparrow’s Best Buy card bought it.

Do you have a second home? >> No.

Would you be surprised if you saw the last person you texted smoking? >> A little, yeah, because the last time I saw her smoke anything was back when I first got here and was still a smoker myself.

Does the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer repulse you? >> The smell of cigarettes can be repulsive to me, which I’ve heard is pretty common amongst ex-smokers. Also, my sensory defensiveness is higher than it used to be, so. The smell of beer doesn’t usually repulse me, but that can vary depending on what kind of day I’m having. The smell of weed is often too strong for my liking, but I don’t necessarily hate it. I just can’t be around it for too long because of, I repeat, sensory defensiveness.

Was the last person you kissed younger or older than you? >> ---

Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? >> Well, duh. Just like I probably have plenty of misconceptions about other people.

Have you ever purchased Girl Scout cookies? >> Yeah.

Do you like waffles? >> Yeah.

Do you watch birthing videos on a day-to-day basis? >> That... seems like one hell of a hobby.

Do you find piercings/tattoos attractive? >> I find them fun and interesting and cool to look at and talk about and learn about. I guess that can be summed up under “attractive”.

Would you talk to someone you don’t know on the internet? >> I always talk to people I don’t know on the internet, it’s kind of part of the experience (unless you just never use the social aspect of the internet).

How often do you drink Monster? >> Never, I hate Monster.

Have you ever made totally pointless videos with your friends? >> Maybe. I don’t really remember doing so, but it’s a possibility.

Do you like to buy those Warped Tour compilations? >> No, but I vaguely remember them.

Do you like sitting on the inside or outside of a restaurant booth? >> I don’t think I prefer one or the other by itself -- it’s usually a combination of different elements that determines whether I’ll sit on the inside or the outside of a booth.

Do you own a nightgown? >> No.

Have you ever made a house out of a giant cardboard box? >> No.

Have you ever made a tent out of sheets in your bedroom? >> No.

Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone? >> ---

Have you ever had sex or something like it? >> Yes to... both?

Have you ever read a George Orwell book? >> No, because though I started it, I never finished 1984.

Have you ever worn fishnets? >> Yeah, many times.

How many piercings and tattoos do you have? >> Two [sets of] piercings and three tattoos.

Is someone in your family affected by Asperger’s? >> ---

In a hotel do you always nose through all the drawers and cupboards? >> No.

Would you rather go out to eat or be eaten out? >> I’d definitely rather go out to eat, thanks.

Do you always wear your seat belt? >> Yeah. What’s funny is I was never made to wear one as a child. I had to get used to seatbelts in adulthood. I... have no idea why that is. Not a good look, though.

Have you ever liked someone much older than you? >> Sure.

Have you ever been in a play? >> Yeah, once.

Do you have any secrets that nobody knows about? >> I mean, I wouldn’t call them “secrets” because it’s not that deep, but yeah, there are plenty of things the average acquaintance doesn’t know about me.

Is there ice cream in your freezer? >> Yeah.

Have you ever started to laugh but played it off as a cough successfully? >> Probably.

Have you ever liked the lyrics of a band but hated the music? >> Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel about The Mountain Goats. The lyrics always seem interesting, but then I listen to the song itself and I’m like “bleh...”

Does your bathroom have a window? >> No, and god, I’d give an organ for a bathroom with a fucking window.

Do you go somewhere to get your eyebrows done? >> No.

When you were younger did you read the A Series Of Unfortunate Events books? >> No.

Who was the last band you saw live? >> Hozier and crew.

Do you believe prayer really works? >> It depends on what you expect prayer to do. I think it works greatly for focusing one’s mind and will, for feeling connected to whatever numinous force you’re into, and for the meditative effect. I also think it works to calm one down, to relieve stress, that sort of thing -- which can be helpful when you’re trying to heal from an illness or something, when you think about the body holistically. Now, if you want to claim that prayer literally causes divine power to come out of the universe and, say, completely eradicate a person’s cancer... well, I mean, I just don’t know about that, is all.

Are you a fan of the band Gym Class Heroes? >> No.

Frosted flakes or frosted mini wheats? >> I used to love frosted mini-wheats... it’s been forever since I had those.

Have you been on a date in the park? >> Something like that.

Ever dated someone you were best friends with first? >> Something like that.

Are there any diseases/health problems that run in your family? >> ---

Do you have asthma? >> Nope. I should have, almost everyone else born in my area at that time period was riddled with respiratory ailments. Bad air up in Elizabethport.

Are tongue piercings slutty? >> Sigh.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? >> That’s basically a foundational criterion for me to consider someone attractive, lmfao.

Last person to take off your pants, besides you? >> No one takes off my pants except me.

Do you remember those cool highlighters that smelled like popcorn? >> No.

Might you enjoy hanging out in the woods for day or two? >> Absolutely.

Have you ever written something on a bathroom stall? >> No.

Least favorite alcoholic drink? >> Hmm... I guess gin. Rarely will I drink a gin-based cocktail.

Have you ever kissed someone named Paul or Luke? >> Maybe? I don’t know.

How did you meet the last male you texted? >> ---

Have you ever had an embarrassing email address? >> No.

Do you put shampoo in your left or right hand? Left. I had to mime that. <-- lol yeah, same.

Do you have a bull ring through your nose? >> I mean, yeah, more or less.

Do you and your dad get along? >> :|

Can you see your purse right now? >> ---

Are you wearing any perfume? What kind? >> No.

Are there products in your hair? >> No.

When you get colds, do you use nasal spray to help get your nose unstuffy? >> Sometimes, when I get aggravated enough.

Do you actually like sneezing? >> No.

Have you taken a shower yet today? >> No.

Do you have one best friend who is always there for you? >> ---

Do you wear skirts a lot? >> No.

Do you wear sweatpants a lot? >> I don’t have enough pairs to wear them a lot, but let me tell you, if I had more they’re pretty much all I would wear as far as outside clothing goes.

How many pairs of jeans do you think you have? >> I have three pairs, I don’t have to guess.

Do you like hoodies? >> I love hoodies.

Big ones or the form fitting kind? >> Big ones.

Do you wear polo shirts a lot? >> I never wear polo shirts.

Did you ever actually have a rubber duck? >> No.

Are you one of those people who claim to live with no regrets? >> I mean, I don’t necessarily feel great about everything I’ve done, but I’m not going to obsess about it either. All I can do is try to learn from my mistakes moving forward, and hope my brain doesn’t turn on me and make me do more things I’ll have to learn from. I don’t know, man, “regret” just doesn’t feel like a thing I fully comprehend.

Do you love your computer? >> I sure do. Both of them.

Do you drink coffee? >> No.

Do you basically like all of your clothes? >> Sure. When I stop liking them, I get rid of them.

Do you shop mostly with your parents, your friends, or by yourself? >> Either by myself or with Sparrow.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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firexfate · 5 years

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the black sparrow || reign

♔ five ~ olivia d’amencourt’s return ♔

Even if Mary’s words were not threatening, nothing that the young Tsaritsa has seen before, Alisa felt their impact all the same. She did not come that night into the living room. She was swayed by the things that Mary had told her because, in her heart, she knew Mary was right. Francis was Mary’s, they were to be engaged sooner or later, and who was Alisa to stand in their way. She had come to France in the hopes of securing an alliance. Her plans did not involve falling in love, especially with the Dauphin. She felt horrible, for not telling Francis why she couldn’t continue this, it tormented seeing the look on his face. She was not doing well herself either. Francis now carried a special place in her heart, he was the love of her life, and she could not throw that away. Every day they had not spoken, she felt the hole in her chest beginning to grow. Taking Mary’s words to heart, she ended up destroying herself emotionally (even Mary was absolutely satisfied with how things were going).

Francis was not blind either. He noticed the drastic change - Alisa’s eyes no longer shared the sparkle that he so adored, nor did she smile, and when she would speak, her voice seemed to carry less and less emotion. He couldn’t take it anymore and decided to do something about it. He handed a note to Aaliyah (who very well knew what was going on between the two of them), who gave it to Alisa. The note was very brief and written in messy script: Usual time. Please. Alisa felt like some heavy load was lifted from her. He wanted to speak with her, to see her. That was a good sign. While she was worried about how upset or angry he was with her, she felt better knowing that he wanted to talk.

Late at night, when Alisa was sure that everyone was fast asleep, even Mary, Alisa slipped from her chambers and headed down the stairs, a lit candle in her hand. She hesitated, before letting out a breath as she opened the door, walking inside. Francis was sitting on the couch, as she slipped inside. He stood up slowly, watching as she blew out the candle, setting it on the table. Francis walked towards her. He smiled at her softly.

“I am so glad you came.” He breathed, gently taking her hands.

“I didn’t think I was going to,” Alisa admitted quietly, “But I owe you an explanation and an apology.” Francis took another step forward, his fingers squeezing hers, his eyes earnestly meeting her blue ones.

“Why have you been ignoring me? Have I done something to offend you?” He asked softly, and Alisa felt her heart squeeze with a pang of pain at his words, and she shook her head vigorously.

“No, no, no. God, no. It was a personal matter, and it wasn’t because you offended me, I promise. It was something else, and I could not bring myself to tell you,” She let out a bitter smile break across her face, not reaching her eyes, “I guess the trait of having a foolish pride runs in the family.” Francis let a laugh break from the corners of his lips, causing her to smile more warmly than before. “I just don’t know how to say it still, even after all this time.”

“Whatever it may be, I’ll understand, but I want to know what has been troubling you this past week.” Alisa swallowed hard.

“That morning when we slept here, and we ran upstairs so nobody would find us,” She swallowed, “And you and I were just a few inches apart, and I have never felt so close to anyone. You make me feel things I never thought I’d feel.” Francis listened, his eyes completely not judgemental. “I was terrified because for me the feelings are real and powerful, and this is not just a friendship that we have. I feel for you more strongly than I should, and it is so wrong, but I do. I wanted to tell you, but I did not know how. I am so sorry.” She ducked her head afraid of his reaction, embarrassed.

“Alisa,” She did not move, afraid to, “Alisa, look at me.” She heard a smile in his voice, which prompted her to look up. His eyes carried a certain emotion, as he squeezed her hands. “I have been waiting for the right moment to tell this to you, but it seems that I won’t have to. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something different about you. You were bold and fearless, unlike any woman I have ever known. And once I began spending time with you, I realized there was so much more to you than meets the eye. You are clever, kind, and witty, just as you are beautiful.” Francis paused for a moment, catching his breath, gazing up at her intense eyes, before continuing.

“Every minute I was with you, every time I heard your laugh, or when I would see your smile, it was as if I was seeing the sun for the very first time,” He smiled serenely, “My sun. Being the heir to the throne, I work with my father side by side, all of those unpleasant politics, but then I see you, and I forget all of the pressure I am in, every time I look at you.” Francis moved closer ever so slightly, there was no gap between them now. “I am madly in love with you, Alisa. And I want you to be mine if you’ll give me that chance.” Alisa pursed her lips, her heart in torment, even as it was alleviated ever so slightly from hearing these words.

“But we can’t, Francis,” She whispered, “You are bound to the alliance with Scotland.”

“Physically, I am,” Francis admitted gently, “But my heart is not. And... besides, perhaps, my father will reconsider and see that an alliance with a majestic empire is more worthwhile.”

“Is it at all possible?” Disbelief laced the young Tsaritsa’s words.

“Of course, it is possible, but the question is not what I want,” His thumb ran up and down the back of her hand, “What do you want?” Alisa pulled her hand away from his grasp and moved it to push his blonde curls back, running her fingers through them. His hair was as soft as silk, just as she anticipated.

“You.” She whispered in a soft voice. He let out a deep breath as if relieved. He pressed her hand on the side of his face, kissing her palm gently. Alisa could not help but smile. “But I must admit that being discreet is not our strong suit, Mary knows.”

“Then, let her talk,” Francis told Alisa, “I do not care for what she might think. All I care about right now is you, us.” Alisa felt another flutter spreading through the corners of her stomach. She barely noticed how Francis cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers. His lips were soft and gentle, but it was just electrifying all the same. Alisa pressed her hand against his chest, another tangled in his blonde curls, pulling them closer. This was better than she has imagined---her and Francis, together at last.

♖♖♖

As days slide by, Alisa and Francis continued their relationship, being discreet as possible, even if that was quite difficult, with Mary knowing everything, Catherine had the spies that serve to her, and with Aaliyah trying to mention Francis without breaking off into giggles or winks. Despite all that, Alisa could not be happier. In the morning, she would receive small notes and flowers in her study, in the afternoon, Francis would take her outside for romantic walks in the garden when he was not busy. Days slipped into weeks, and it was the middle of October, which was around the time the Harvest Festival would arrive. Alisa resolved not to go. Mary would be there, and she would want Francis to herself, and Alisa did not want her getting any ideas. Besides the fact that the festival was thrown to welcome fall, it was thrown for the future King and Queen of France. She did not want to intervene, it would be improper to do so.

With everyone attending the Harvest Festival (Bash already asked Aaliyah and the rest of Alisa’s ladies were going together), Alisa walked outside, singing quietly in Russian as she did so. She walked past the gardens, and was near the Blood Wood Forest, even though she knew very well not to set foot there. Aaliyah had told her stories about the horrors that lie there, which she heard from Bash. As she continued to walk, she heard the snap of a tree branch and stumbling footsteps. Alisa froze, pondering whether it was in her best interests to go in. Curiosity fueled her and she headed towards the direction of the woods. She moved closer towards the noise, hearing heavy high pitched breathing. A girl, no younger than herself, was trying to scramble on her feet from a fall. Her blue eyes were paralyzed with fear, and she inched away from Alisa.

“It’s alright.” Alisa gently whispered, crouching beside her. “No harm will come to you. What’s your name?”

“O-Olivia D-D’Amencourt.” The young woman stammered. Alisa nodded.

“Let me help you get back inside the castle.” She offered her a hand. Olivia hesitated, before taking it, rising to her feet shakily. Alisa wrapped an arm protectively around the poor girl, who was trembling all over, leading her out of the woods.

“What happened to you, Olivia?” She questioned gently. Olivia swallowed a few times, before speaking.

“W-We were attacked b-by bandits, they came out of nowhere. T-They killed the driver and m-my lady.” She whimpered. Alisa nodded once, holding her tighter.

“You are safe now in French Court,” She assured, “We will take good care of you.” Olivia leaned against her with a nod.

“T-Thank you,” She whispered, tears running down her cheeks, “I-I need to see... t-tell Francis w-what happened...”

“You know Francis?” Alisa looked surprised, raising an eyebrow. Olivia nodded, her lip trembling.

“P-Please.” She begged. Alisa nodded, knowing she cannot possibly refuse her, no matter what kind of history she shared with Francis. She headed to the direction, where the Harvest Festival took place, Olivia clinging to her. She approached and saw everyone enjoying the festivities, Mary’s and Alisa’s ladies all gossiping in a corner.

“Francis!” The Tsaritsa called, grabbing everyone’s attention from her voice. All heads turned to her. Francis’s eyes found hers before they fell on Olivia, his blue hues widening with surprise. He moved away from Mary, who was trying to talk with him and grab his attention. Olivia broke away from Alisa and practically threw herself into Francis’s arms. Hushed whispers echoed around the room, as Francis began to comfort the poor girl. He looked at Alisa, and there was a flicker of uncertainty and worry in her eyes. He ordered a path to be cleared and led Olivia from the festival.

“For the first time ever, you and I have a common problem.” A voice spoke from behind. Alisa turned around and found Mary watching Francis leave. The Tsaritsa’s gaze hardened.

“I have no idea what you’re going on about.” She responded.

“Oh, Francis didn’t tell you? He had an affair with Olivia, just a few months ago. Well... that was before she left home in disgrace. Bash says the two were quite intimate.” Mary continued.

“That was in the past,” Alisa said shortly, “Francis’s feelings for me have not changed.”

“Oh, really?” Mary scoffed, a cruel smile forming across her face. “Why don’t you find out yourself, if he really loves you?” She moved over to speak to Bash again, taking his arm. Aaliyah approached Alisa as she watched Mary talk with Bash.

“Is it just me or does Mary seem to be off as of late?” Aaliyah whispered harshly, her lips tightening in jealousy.

“Even more so now that Olivia is here,” Alisa agreed, before looking over at her friend and taking her hand, “Don’t worry about her, Bash is yours and only yours.” Aaliyah sighed and nodded.

“I hope you’re right, but that doesn’t mean that Mary won’t stop to try and do something horrid to you or me.” Alisa did not respond, standing with her friend for a few minutes, before leaving the Harvest Festival, Mary’s harsh words on her mind. She did not know what to think. Francis pledged his faithfulness to her, but could that all be destroyed once a part of his past returned? In any case, Alisa resolved to trust him and show him that she supported him. Besides, nothing happened yet, she needed to give him the benefit of a doubt.

Alisa found Francis and Olivia later together in a room, with Olivia recounting to Francis what had happened. Alisa knocked on the door before slipping inside, a cup of hot tea in her hands for Olivia. The young girl looked up, startled, but relaxed seeing Alisa.

“How are you feeling?” The young Tsaritsa asked gently, coming over to sit on Olivia’s other side.

“Much better, thank you.” Olivia smiled a little. “Thank you for helping me out of those woods.” Alisa nodded.

“Of course.” She gently handed her the tea. “Drink. It’ll make you feel better.”

“What is it?” Olivia took the cup and peered inside.

“It’s a Russian brew, to calm your nerves.”

“Russian?” Olivia repeated. Francis smiled towards Alisa.

“I presume you were not properly introduced then,” He gestured to the Russian Queen, “This is Alisa Ivanova, the Tsaritsa of Russia.” Olivia’s eyes went wide.

“Tsaritsa---oh---I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” She bowed her head, causing Alisa to laugh.

“Alisa will do just fine,” She smiled, “Drink up, and get some rest. It will make you feel better.” Alisa stood up, Francis following after her. The two exiting the room together, Francis gently taking Alisa’s hand as he did so, but she would not look at him, unable to shake away the things that Mary has told her.

“Is something wrong?” Francis gently asked, pausing for a moment. Her dark brown eyes flickered over to meet his.

“Is it true? Olivia D’Amencourt was your lover in the past?” Alisa asked. Francis sighed heavily.

“Yes, she stayed here for a time... and we had intimate relations, but I have no feelings for her,” He insisted, “My heart belongs to you, only to you. Who told you this anyhow?” Alisa’s eyes flooded with guiltiness.

“Mary.” Francis closed his eyes in frustration. This was not the first time Mary attempted to spread rumors to Alisa about Francis to tear the two of them apart.

“Of course, she did,” He sighed heavily, “Alisa, I swear---”

“I know,” Alisa cut him off, knowing what he was about to say, “I believe you, Francis, and I trust you.” The two continued to walk again. “I take it, Olivia is staying with us for a while.” Francis nodded once.

“Yes, so she will be able to regain her strength and credibility. There was an incident where we were both found in the boathouse, which was quite scandalous, to say the least,” Francis explained quickly, “I will be able to find a place for her to stay soon, I can promise you that.” Alisa smiled ever so slightly.

“Don’t stress yourself out, Francis, take your time. You have so much on your plate already, with your father being gone and you have to fill in his position as the next future king. I understand that Olivia needs to stay here for a while, and I will try to help you find a place where she could stay. I have connections. I could reach out to---” Francis cut her off, pulling her close and kissing her softly. He smiled at her gently, cupping her cheek with his hand.

“You are so caring, always looking out for others,” He smiled warmly, “I love you.”

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.” (I love you, too.) Alisa felt warmth radiate her body, as she spoke the words with sincerity. She sighed softly, hearing the familiar bells tolling, knowing that it was time for the last part of the Harvest Festival - the future King and Queen of France would write their names on a slip of paper, inserting it into a handmade boat, before watching it sail away on the lake. “You should go, it is the final part of the festival.” Francis sighed, nodding, his thumb gently moving past her cheekbone.

“I wish you were there.” He admitted. “Completing the ceremony with me.” Alisa smiled sadly.

“It would be improper. I am not your fiancé, Francis.”

“Yet.” He smiled a little, before leaning in to give her a kiss on her cheek, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She walked down the corridor, alone again, before she heard a soft sob coming from the corner of the hallway. She moved closer towards the sound and found Aaliyah, crying. Alisa felt a painful jab in her heart, as she ran over and gathered her friend in her arms.

“Aaliyah!” She harshly whispered, “What happened? What’s wrong?” Aaliyah clutched onto her friend, her body shaking with sobs.

“B-Bash... h-he---” She could barely speak without her words getting choked up. Alisa rubbed her back gently.

“What did Bash do?” Her voice hardened at once. If Bash hurt her one way or another, she would go over to him and give him a piece of her mind.

“H-He cheated w-with Mary. S-She kissed him first, a-and he kissed her back.” Alisa let out a short breath, holding Aaliyah closer as the poor girl continued to cry. It seemed that Alisa was not the only person Mary truly despised. She stirs up trouble, wherever she goes.

#catherine de medici #the black sparrow #alisa ivanova #lady aaliyah #lady kenna #mary stuart #francis valois #reign #reign cw #sebastian de poitiers #bash #long may she reign

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wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

Text

Sheriff!

Written: 11/27/2017, by S. Sparrow

Nobody made me the sheriff, I damn well gave that job to myself. Sure, some officials may have handed me the title, but I’m the one who earned it, there will never be anyone as good at this job as I am, nobody who can shoot straight with a bottlesworth of whisky in their belly, nobody who could spot an Apache from two miles away. See, the thing about Apaches is that they’re everywhere, and a lot of fellas don’t realize that. I don’t know why it confuses people so often, but its true. I guess the truth is hard for some folk to digest, like trying to feed yourself with hair. Some fellas can eat hair, some can’t. The apaches, they eat hair, both metaphorically and literally. That’s why they scalp well meaning fellas, they want to eat the hair, that’s what they survive off of. Whole buffalo or whatever the saying is.

I knew a barber once, but I don’t know him anymore, I had to shoot him dead in his chair. A fella down the street from me bought the chair. I asked him, I said, “Look, why do you need the chair? Its shot to hell and the blood damn well wont wash out, the leather is no good because of that.” The fella told me, “Blood or no blood, its still better than sitting on wood all the damn time.” So I ask, “But aren’t there still other things to sit on, like horses, metal, rocks, dirt? Hell, if you’re tired of wood, go sit out in the desert, there’s so much of it that you’ll never even be able to sit on in your life time.” I told him, “If you want to sit on leather, why not sit on your saddle.” Why, he looked me right in the eyes and said, “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. I’m saying that I want to be comfortable, dirt ain't comfort.” I just spat at his feet and gave him a long look, I didn’t trust the fella, he sounded like an Apache, just like that damn barber, sittin’ in that chair of his, tellin’ me that he’s considerin’ getting into the wig trade one of these days. I asked that barber, “Where are you going to get the hair for all those wigs?” He moved the razor up my cheek, I bet he wanted to cut my throat right there, I bet he wanted my American blood to stain his floorboards, but his blood stained his chair instead. Out in the frontier, most disputes are over whose blood is gonna go where. The barber told me, “Well, I’ll probably use the hair that I cut off of folks heads.” Now, he stabbed his finger at the hair that was all over the floor, right where he probably wanted my blood to go, and I already knew what I needed to know, it was Apache talk, he was thinking that he was smarter than me. Even before I sent him to the Christian heaven, not the ridiculous land that his savage religion promised him, he told me that he wasn’t an Apache. I said, “Do you take me for a fool?” He said, “Why, sheriff, I’m a white man, can’t you see that?” I was angry at that point, I was stompin’ my boots around, waving that gun like I was trying to bring a falcon back, and I hollered, “You dirt fucker, you know as well as I do that there’s different kinds of Apache. There’s white Apaches, there’s negro Apaches, there’s yellow ones and purple ones and I believe there are all sorts that we haven’t even seen before.” The fool tried to say that I wasn’t talking sense, he tried to ask me what I thought Apaches were, as if it weren’t already clear that I knew better than anyone, him or those smug folk that live towards the East. So I shot the fucker until my gun couldn’t shoot no more, I gave him Western justice.

Now, when I first came to town, there were Apaches attacking the town, and it seemed hell had come to visit. Now, the thing about visits is they end, and I was brought in to make sure that the Apaches would leave sooner than they naturally would. I hadn’t been a sheriff before then, I was never a lawman before that, but my work with the Apaches had shown that I was the right fella for the job. Actually, at first they didn’t see it that way, they picked some big time sheriff from some town that was never in danger of anything but polio, and how the hell are you supposed to shoot that? So what did that son of a bitch do? He was gutted on the first day. The townsfolk said that I moutain lion had done it, but I said this aint a mountain, and I knew that the Apaches had done it. The folk really tried to sell me on the bear attack idea, some even claimed that they saw it, but as I looked at that big man, his face chewed off and his guts spread all over the dirt, his left hand tangled in a gut tube, his right one removed in the roughest way, all of it stinkin’ to high hell, I knew that it had to be a savage. So I shot the fella who was sellin’ me the story, I knew what his trick was, I shot him right in the belly and knocked my boot against the hole right when he dropped to his knees. He started cryin’, he started hollerin’, he wanted help, and I kept tellin’ him to stop his words, but he wouldn’t listen to me, the ingrate. I told him that his Apache calls wouldn’t work, that I would just kill any of his friends if they came, and they must of heard me as they lurked in the rocks, or wherever they lurk, maybe under the dirt, where its nice and cool, where you can dig for some time during a long journey and find water, where you can splash your face and let the cold let you forget about the sun, the lack of food, the lack of anyone, the idea that you may not survive until the next day, the next hour, the promise you made to your momma to make something of yourself, instead of dying in the middle of nowhere, as nobody, in this damn place where god don’t care about nothin’. Anyways, his friend protested at first, but he seemed too scared and I figured that he wasn’t an Apache, so I told him that he was safe, that it was just his friend who was trouble. And his friend is still crying, snot rushing out of his nose like he caught a fever, or a sickness of some kind, it was real pitiful, these Apaches have no courage, a real pitiful group. The guys crying and I grab the scruff at the back of his head, and I place my pistol right against the top, slightly up, and I tell him, “Now, you and your kin brought a lot of hell into this here town, but I’m the sheriff now, I’m going to teach you a little thing about Western justice. I hope you’re ready to feel the sting of civilization.” And then I fired, bang, and the bullet tore its way through the top of his skull, and did a little more than creating a ditch in his head, it looked like a grave being dug, and I got my fingers in there, he’s cryin’ the whole time, screaming and fussin’, and I try to peel back his scalp, but it held on for dear life to his skull. So, not being one to take failure lightly, I put my boot on his neck, grabbed the scruff, and shot another round, and another, and after some time of bang bang bangin’ the Apache’s scalp, after two rounds and some very un-Christian words, I finally pried the damned thing from his head. By the time I held it over the sun, to admire my prize, I had to squint because of all of the sunlight that managed to shine through. I was pretty pissed, because I was hoping that my first scalp in this town could be something that I could hang in my office, like the trophy it was, but it had become ruined since the savage kept struggling under my boot. He had just come to by the time that I started stompin’ on his scalp, and when his friend asked me what we should do, I didn’t know, so I said, “Hang him. Everyone loves a good hangin’.” And they did, the people there really enjoyed it.

Now, by and by I began to hang a lot more of the townfolk, it was shocking to see how many of them turned out to be Apaches. Some of the townfolk would ask me how I knew, they would ask me if I knew what an Apache was, if I thought all Indians were Apaches, or, well, for some reason they were having a lot of trouble understanding it. Maybe they never read around here, maybe somebody told them wrong, I have no idea. So when they ask me about Apaches, I tell them that I just know, and that’s all they need to know. I don’t want no Apaches learning my methods anyways, because then they’ll just hide themselves better, and then we’ll all be dead, western civilization will come burning down and baby Jesus will cry on the cross. I can’t let that happen. I’m the only man who is stopping that from happenin’.

If you really want to know how I can tell, I’ll tell you: Its a gut feelin’, I just know, like some sort of divine gift. If anyone makes me feel all wrong, I know that they’re an Apache, and I shoot them dead.

Now, I don’t know when I got this gift of mine, but I like to think that my father gave it to me after he was burned and eaten. The apaches didn’t eat him, they let him go to waste, so the animals swooped down and had their way. It was a cryin’ shame, but it was how it happened. If you ask me, I don’t think that the man even deserved to die, he didn’t do anything wrong, he was a good man who didn’t get an justice for the wrongs that wronged him. After all that he went through, he deserved something, but the Apaches wouldn’t have it. At first they told him that he couldn’t build a house where he was buildin’ it, because that was their land, their territory. So, being reasonable, he told them that he was just trying to look after his family, that they had no place to stay, that we needed to survive. The Apache asked him to build somewhere else, and he politely told the savage that we couldn’t go anywhere else, because we had to shoot the ox and there was no good way to move the food and water. The Apache told him that we could stay with its people, but my father just laughed that thunderous laugh and said that he’d rather die in the desert than live in some savage hut for a night. He tried to tell the thing that we white Christian folk needed more than that, that we had been bred from Jesus, while the savages were closer to animals, or children. The Apache didn’t take that to well, he even insisted that he wasn’t an Apache at some point, but my father just laughed that off, because he knew one when he could see one. The Apache then told us that he had lived in towns before, but my father didn’t buy that snake oil either. And, okay, my father did become a little aggressive with his choice of words, but the Apache kept saying that we couldn’t build on his land, he kept telling us that this wasn’t the way that things worked, so what was he to do? Sometime after him kicking up dust and a wise explaining of our manyfest destiny he shot the Apache, and said that was enough of that.

The next night they came in and my father started shootin’ and shootin’, and when one would come down two others would take its place. We were surrounded and it would only be a matter of time until they would surround us with a circle of scalpin’ and rapin’ and murderin’, and all of those savage acts that they love so much. We didn’t know why they came for us, they never offered an explanation, but I knew that it was just because that’s the way them Apaches are. I can still remember my father hollerin’ when a tomohawk took most of his jaw off. It didn’t take all of it off, there were still chunks hanging on and drippin down, teeth that would keep knockin’ against the floor, even when you thought that there would be no more teeth, but most of the man’s jaw was on the floor. I think that’s what killed us in the end, too, because he was unable to reason with the savages after that happened. My father said that words could solve every problem better than fightin’ could, but he said that sometimes savages didn’t want to listen to reason, and that’s what makes them savages. I figured the same went for Apaches too, but I guess I don’t really know the difference between a savage and an Apache. I guess its that savages are always dark, while the Apaches can even be white men, and that’s what scares me the most about them. But I’m not scared of anything. I’ve never been scared in my life. Okay, when we was crouching in our wagon, the Apaches surrounding us, my father trying to scream right while his jaws still dripping to the dirt, I was scared then, but I was a boy, boys have to be scared so that they can become men and never become scared again. A frightened man is no man at all, that’s another bit of wisdom. Anyways, when the Apaches got close enough to be seen in the lamp light, my mother picked up the rifle and shot one of the bastards in the shoulder, but another came up from behind and pulled her right out of the wagon. They damn well slit her throat when they pulled her out, and her blood started to soak up the dirt. I didn’t know what to do, I had never been in that much danger in my life, and I think what scared me the most was not know why they were coming after us. I was so spooked that when one of them grabbed me, I didn’t move one bit, and I let them carry me out of the wagon. They were real gentle when they did it, but that wasn’t kindness, they probably knew that they couldn’t scare a boy anymore than they did, they already had the piss out of me, and I don’t think they wanted to have to smell anything else. So, while I’m being took away from the wagon, my father was trying to keep bits of jaw from falling into the dirt with his one hand, and the other aimed to shoot but he fell over and shot the oil lamp right off the wagon. It fell right on him and he lay there, burnin’ burnin’ burnin’, screaming into the night. I wanted to look away, but it was a hard sight to miss, it demanded your attention, he was the brightest sight around for miles. I tried to close my eyes, but the light still shone through, I could still hear him, so I decided just to look anyways. I was spooked about it for the longest time, I prayed and prayed for the lord to let me forget, but I’m glad now that I saw it, it made me a man. Yes sir, it put the hair on my chest and the star on my chest. The Apache holding me tried to cover my eyes, and I bet he didn’t want me to see what they did to my father, they didn’t want me to grow up to be the man that I am.

And what man is that? Well, I’m the sheriff, I am justice, I am the law where the law don’t go. I’ve put a bullet in every type of Apache there is, and there ain't nothing worse than an Apache. I once tussled with an apache coyote, with only a knife and my wits. I’m a force of nature, I’m the word of God.

These people in this town weren’t sure of that at first, but they know now. I got rid of every Apache that lived within a ten mile area of the town, the outskirts and the houses were emptied of them. We put them in wagons and burned them in the desert, far out enough so that the civilized folk wouldn’t have to see it, close enough to the town so that the smoke could reassure them. They sure did protest when I started going after the Apaches that were pretending to be good Christian folk, but eventually they stopped complainin’ when I had that pile of bodies out in front of my place and they saw all of the secret Apaches that they had thought were neighbors. My deputy said that the townsfolk were scared that I’d fill them with holes, and I said that they only should be if they’re Apaches. Then I shot him up for good measure, but he’s still around, even if he can’t walk. I trust him because God showed me that he was no Apache, and now I make sure that he keeps a watch for anyone whose scheduled to hang. I thought he would be right mad about being shot, but he had to eat, so he took the job back with little griping. Then, when I let him hang the newest Apache that wondered into town, he had a smile on his face that showed that we was right. I let him hang everyone now, and he seems to be happy. When your cock don’t work, I guess you have to find something else to fill its absence.

Yes sir, we are a peaceful town and we are Apache free, but sometimes we are too Apache free. Whenever we go a week without a hangin’, I start to get nervous, and the people start to get restless. My deputy tells me that they don’t like the hangin’s much, he tells me that they’re usually just happy that they’re not up there, throats closed, legs dancin’ around, face turnin’ all sorts of colors, and I tell him that if he understands people so much, he should write a book. He started to write a book, and it does well he will need to thank me, because it was my idea. I don’t know what the book is about, and even though he tells me its about something or other, I know its about me. Who else is he going to write about? But sometimes I worry that he’s gonna take my life and say that he lived it. He’s gonna take every crumb of wisdom that I picked out of my beard for him, and he’s going to call it his wisdom, he’s going to become well known for it, all sorts of folks will quote him when they’re really quoting me and mine, and the thought just gets me all sorts of angry, so I usually go out to hunt Apaches. But there ain’t Apaches for the longest time around here, so I have to ride out to the next town to get some scalps and cool myself down. The sheriff there wont let me scalp the white Apaches though, he seems to be some sort of idiot, but a scalp is a scalp and an Apache is an Apache, no matter what color of skin they have, so I give him a barrel of whiskey that I get for free every week from my local tavern, and he stabs his finger in the direction of the closest Apache camp or house. The townsfolk there don’t drink no liquor, they say its of the devil, but I say that’s just Apache talk, because liquor is God’s reward for a job well done, and Apaches don’t know what good work is, they never have had a real job, but I guess that makes sense, because the only real job out there is killin’ Apaches. I guess there’s also gunsmithin’ and farming, those would also be real jobs. Sometimes I have to wonder, what’s a man to do when there are no more Apaches to kill? When the savages have been scrubbed clean off the dirt of the world, what is left for civilized man to? What would my use be? It makes me wonder if I should even work my job, since I’m so good at it, because I alone could get rid of every last damn Apache, but by doin’ that I would be gettin’ rid of myself then. Then who would I be? The man who got rid of the Apaches? Who would care about that, who would give a lick about me? While I’m still killin’ Apaches people will love me, they’d want me to kill the Apaches so that they wouldn’t be killed instead, but what if they didn’t have no danger to deal with, then why would they want me? What about all of the young ones who would grow up without ever knowing what an Apache is? They wouldn’t give a damn about me and my kind, they wouldn’t understand the order, peace, and stability we brought to the world. They would just see us as being outdated, why, I’d die with the Apaches, those bastards will take me down with them.

Sometimes when I trade that whiskey and kill them Apaches, I wonder how this could be done better, how we could preserve them. Now, I thought about killin’t them all and just pretending like they’re still out there, but good God fearing people don’t believe in nonsense that isn’t there, this is an age of reason! They’d take one look at me and tell me that I was fuller of shit than a farmer’s field. They’d laugh me down and make me feel like a boy again, they’d take my manhood away from me. I don’t know if they can feel it, but the times are a changin’, and they wont need me in five or ten years. So I keep telling myself that there has to be more of them out there, they have to exist in parts of this world that we haven’t seen before, that have yet to be civilized, that as long as there are people spreadin’ culutre to the world, there are still those savages that will try to oppose it. Sometimes I look eastward and think of all of the Apaches that there could be. And, when I’m tired of that, I look to the north and think the same damn thing. Sometimes I get tired and I look up to the moon, to the stars, to God’s kingdom, and I try to tell myself that we could go out there, that we will eventually civilize the sky and everything past it, but then I remember that that’s God’s kingdom for a reason, and this world is the only one left to become civilized.

I remember that I’m just a man, that there is an end to what I have to do, that time will move on without me and me and my kin will be forgotten about, we’ll be consumed by time and nobody will thank us for what we did for the future generations, all of the good that I’m bringin’ to the world. But I don’t like to think like that, so when I do I say a prayer and head out to kill more Apaches, its the only thing that helps.

#Fiction #Writers on Tumblr #Western #Western Civilization #Short Fiction

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turtle-paced · 7 years

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GoT Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

Well, this is it, I guess. One of the most infamous episodes of the whole series. Rightly so.

EXTRA WARNING: this recap contains discussion of a rape scene, as well as more discussion of the relationship between Tommen and Margaery.

5.06 - Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

Let’s get this out of the way right now. The title of this episode is cruel mockery, referencing not just the words of House Martell but Sansa’s “you cannot scare me” line, which must be interpreted in light of the events that follow. Namely, repeated rapes and abuse to the point where Sansa does not care if Myranda kills her. So cruel mockery at best. At worst it’s self-justifying bullshit meant to promote the ludicrous narrative of “hardened woman making a choice” over and above “prominent underage female character raped for shock value.” Which, one, the rape and abuse is still every bit as bad if it happens to a “hardened woman,” and two, still doesn’t mean the plot made sense, was necessary, or was handled well.

This episode has a previously on. It ends at 1:48.

It also includes juxtaposition of Sansa saying, “I expect I’ll be a married woman by the time you return,” Littlefinger saying, “[Sansa’s] suffered enough,” and Ramsay saying “I’ll never hurt her.” Joke’s on us! Ramsay’s going to rape Sansa by the end of the episode!

(4:00) I’ve always found it bizarre how slowly Arya does this work. I think it’s meant to show care, but good lord, she’s an inefficient mortician’s apprentice.

(5:41) We can also see with this “What are they doing with the bodies?” mystery that the writers have elected to drive Arya’s story with external tension (what’s behind the door? Why is the Waif so hell-bent on kicking Arya out?) rather than internal tension, as Arya struggles in alternately abandoning and keeping her identity.

(7:03) Okay, so there’s a bit of a hole in the story the Waif tells Arya - a young Westerosi girl knows enough about the Faceless Men to want their help with her stepmother? She, a noble Westerosi girl, had the means to seek the help of Braavosi assassins? It’s not super plausible. (More plausible for a rich merchant family that interacts with Braavosi on the regular.) Now, this is absolutely, transparently meant to appeal to Arya Stark’s desire for vengeance and her love of grand adventure stories. Unfortunately you could drive a truck through this hole, and I’m having trouble believing that at approximately thirteen/fourteen (I think that’s how old show!Arya’s supposed to be, though Tommen’s age-up really throws everything into chaos - as far as I can tell he overtook Arya), Arya isn’t picking that up. Either the hole, or the fact the story is tailor-made to her tastes.

It’s a minor case of “only one smart person on screen at a time.”

(8:21) We’re back to this, are we? The Faceless Men of the books don’t hit Arya for lying badly, not as part of standard training for beginners. They give her a list of tells and a list of exercises to help her learn to control her face, and give her regular, structured practice trying to spot a liar’s tells. Only after Arya lies about killing a man for her own reasons and gives her biggest tell (chewing on her lip), does the Kindly Man hit her. Once.

This is child abuse here to be dramatic, is what I’m saying.

(8:44) Arya is pretty much the only character who doesn’t magically know Roose Bolton killed Robb.

(9:28) Go Arya, rejecting these terrible teaching methods! Truly, this scene was written for two reasons: one, to exposit that Arya did not hate Sandor (something she had to be told by a man), and two, to show Arya getting hit several times.

(10:52) Tyrion here has casually fessed up to kinslaying, and Westerosi Jorah, who should have knowledge of that particular taboo, has no reaction for us. I suppose this is an early example of kinslaying only affecting the plot at convenient times.

(11:51) Is anyone going to mention the reason Jorah is in Essos? That little slaving incident? Fleeing the country a step ahead of the death penalty? How about the bit where Jeor thought that death/the Watch was an appropriate punishment for his son’s crimes? No? We’re just going to have woobie Jorah make sad faces? Okay then.

My issue’s not that Jorah’s been changed per se, because goodness knows I don’t think Jorah’s one of GRRM’s best characters. It’s why the showrunners changed him and how. All the writers saw in the story of a middle-aged man exiled for enslaving others, creeping on and attempting to control a teenage girl, was an unrequited love subplot.

(13:21) This extra here knows that it’s time for Arya’s plot to advance, and so he’s walked up to her for no particular reason and started spouting exposition. The writers are capable of better.

(14:21) I resent the fuck out of the fact that the child abuse apparently did teach Arya how to lie. That is not how education works. And even if it did work, is that really an excuse for beating a child?

(15:27) Deaths: 1. Arya’s kill. And I am counting that to her, since her lies induced the girl to drink something she did not know would kill her.

(17:02) What a waste of effort by the props department. I’m sure this set, properly lit, would be stunning. As it is, I can hardly see a thing. The music here is lovely and eerie, though.

(19:27) While we’re talking creepy, though, this speech from Jorah about how he regards Dany as a goddess is creepier in its mundanity than any damn hall of dead faces they’ve shown us.

(20:22) Tyrion’s undermining of Dany’s ambitions here is also making me uncomfortable. Whether it’s “Targaryens are famously insane” (again, there’s a difference between Dany angsting about it on her own terms and Tyrion informing the audience of this as fact), “doesn’t mean she’ll make a good queen,” or here, “so a woman who has never spent a day of her adult life in Westeros becomes Queen of Westeros, that’s justice?” it’s pretty blatantly priming the audience to think, wow Dany needs Tyrion. Needs Tyrion. Not just “a good Westerosi advisor and support from at least one major House.” Tyrion.

(20:27) Tyrion’s also being used as a mouthpiece for audience opinion pretty blatantly, much as he was back in season one with the Free Folk. It’s jarring, because GRRM is very careful to include those moments of values dissonance, such as Tyrion’s utter disbelief that women can contribute to political decision-making, and his dislike of democracy.

(20:39) Much like Valyria snuck up on these two last episode, here they have been snuck up on by pirates. They totally weren’t waiting out of shot, otherwise in plain view. Don’t even think such silly things.

(21:39) Oh-ho, dick joke. This scene was written around the joke “Tyrion might be a little person, but he has a big dick!” The “cock merchant” is not the only way Tyrion could survive this encounter, either: there’s the canon use of a grotesquerie.

(24:10) “The city has changed since you were here last.” You know what would have conveyed this fact much more elegantly than this clunky bit of exposition? Exactly what was going on before Lancel started speaking - shots of Littlefinger walking through the city looking apprehensively at the armed, black-clad Sparrows. I think this is here to remind us that Littlefinger knows about Lancel, but the plot in King’s Landing is going to get a bit confused.

(25:13) “House Tyrell won’t tolerate this insult.” Oh, Littlefinger. You’d be surprised! Loras is going to be in custody until the day Cersei blows him up.

(26:02) “If war comes to Westeros, will the knights of the Vale fight for their king?” This seems to be the question Cersei urgently summoned Littlefinger to answer. And this, well, it’s not something you drag someone halfway across the continent to answer. Littlefinger was sent to the Vale to ensure exactly that. It kind of defeats the purpose to drag Littlefinger back to the capital to ask him this again. Better to send someone there to report on him.

(26:24) Cersei drinks: 1.

(26:38) Why on earth tell Cersei this? It seems to be a means for Littlefinger to send the forces of the Vale North without the Lannisters on their backs. If only there was some enemy of the Lannisters trying to retake Winterfell at this very point of the plot, giving an excuse for military incursion into Northern lands! Perhaps some persistent Lannister foe marching down from the Wall?

(27:08) “Marrying his son to the last of the Starks gives Roose Bolton far more legitimacy in the North than an alliance with a hated southern house.” This is 100% true. But this smart political show has seen no further than this in their rush to write a prominent female character being raped for shock value. Literally nobody in the books believes that a genuine Stark would willingly marry a Bolton post-Red Wedding. They all come to the conclusion that the Stark is fake, the marriage is forced, or both. And then a great many Northerners do something about it. Logically, Cersei should be asking “why would Sansa do this? If she wouldn’t, then how did it come to pass?” This is not a complex train of thought. It is well within Cersei’s intellectual capabilities. (Wouldn’t trust her to come up with good answers, though.)

(27:15) “I would counsel patience, your grace,” says Littlefinger.

(27:39) “That is why it is critical to strike soon,” says Littlefinger. So, if you were wondering about the editing process or the amount of thought that went into justifying Northern plotlines…you can stop. They can’t keep the plans consistent for thirty seconds. Literally. Thirty seconds.

(28:31) Littlefinger asks to be named Warden of the North for his hypothetical services. Again, this is something even (maybe even especially) book!Cersei would not agree to. Even she can say to herself “Petyr Baelish, Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Protector of the Vale, Warden of the North…hm. Too much power.”

(29:15) Who else thought that there was something skeevy going on here when Trystane interrupted Myrcella’s concerns by kissing her without waiting for any sort of indication of yes, and indeed while she was mid-sentence? I don’t think that’s what the showrunners were going for, though…

(29:46) And again, were we supposed to take this as young love when Trystane won’t answer Myrcella honestly about how many other girls he’s walked through the gardens with? A good response here would be “a few, but you’re the one I’m walking with now” or something like that, not the dissembling he gives her. Genuine affection would best be conveyed here by honesty. This seriously looks like a reasonably experienced young man pressuring an inexperienced teenage girl into a commitment she’s not ready for.

(30:15) Alexander Siddig and Deobia Oparei just completely wasted here too. Sorry guys, you’re too good for this mess of a plot, you’re bringing something dangerously close to atmosphere and sensible motivations to this scene!

(30:24) Didn’t mention it before, but there’s some serious geography failure here. The landscape Jaime and Bronn are travelling through is gorgeous, but it’s also a very unconvincing Dorne. It’s all the more noticeable because they went from the bright sunshine and warmer filters of Sunspear to grey, green, and fog.

(30:59) You know it’s a desert city because right there, right there, is a donkey carrying a bunch of bananas.

(31:19) Just in case you didn’t see the donkey with bananas before, here it is again! It’s exotic. Isn’t it great how the plot goes to all these exotic foreign-ish locations? It’s worth mentioning again because we know the show is capable of far better work - compare the gorgeous establishing shots of Braavos, Volantis, and Meereen to this crap.

(31:53) These masked individuals walking through the gardens in broad daylight certainly are not very suspicious. Seriously, do they think this will fool anyone for a hot second?

(32:00) Likewise these two masked men. Completely legit. Definitely regular guards.

(32:32) Check out Trystane’s non-reaction to Myrcella identifying Jaime. He barely blinks and just casually strolls up behind her. He’s acting like this is a normal introduction, and not, you know, what the fuck is the fucking Kingslayer doing here in a Martell guardsman uniform unannounced. Again, this is how you can tell this storyline was rushed and botched - the showrunners did not put even a tiny bit of effort into thinking “how would Trystane react to this?”

(32:51) In more contrivance, Jaime and Bronn have been in possession of these uniforms for how long now? And they did not think to maybe wash the blood off. It’s not one of the classic scenarios where someone grabs a stolen uniform under time pressure; they got these a while back and had ample opportunity to launder them. They did not, because the plot demands Trystane sees the blood. (As if the fact Jaime and Bronn are there in fake uniforms isn’t suspicious enough already.) Can’t say what’s shoddier, Jaime’s plan or the writing.

(33:10) It’s Attack of the The Sand Snakes. And you better believe I’m thinking of what MST3K said - they just didn’t care.

I am absolutely serious when I say I have seen high school theatre productions with higher choreography values than this. I know they only had about a day to film this scene, but here’s the thing - the showrunners prioritised the rule of cool (filming in this beautiful historical site) over filming a good action scene and ensuring the plot that made it to screen made sense. It’s shocking, I know, but when there’s a fight scene the audience tends to focus on the combat, rather than the gardens in the background obscured by quick cuts and motion blur - and yet while people might pardon the coincidence of two separate parties trying to kidnap Myrcella at once, they won’t look past the fact this happens in broad daylight.

This becomes a sadly common feature of the show, prioritising “cool” over the bread-and-butter mechanics that cool things must be built on.

(34:28) Note how Areo Hotah is surrounded by a bunch of loyal guardsmen, unmoved by Obara’s “yay revenge!” appeal.

(35:05) Bronn says, “You fight pretty well for a little girl,” and Tyene launches herself at Bronn screaming. Truly we are getting some strong female characters in this plot. Also worth mentioning is that I don’t think Bronn’s casual sexism is supposed to affect our view of him, much like his casual racism earlier in the season. He’s down-to-earth and cracks wise! Why ruin a character like that pointing out the fact that he’s racist and sexist?

(35:33) The leader of this carriage has called a halt.

(35:41) Olenna Tyrell immediately makes a crack about how King’s Landing is smelly and asks why they stopped. I too am asking why they stopped. It looks like they stopped literally so Olenna could say that King’s Landing is smelly.

(35:52) Much like Bronn, Olenna’s reference to “pillow-biters” isn’t supposed to prompt us to reexamine anything. Olenna is consistently and casually homophobic, but since she expresses it with jokes and dismissiveness rather than labelling homosexuality perversion, we’re still supposed to like her and laugh at the jokes.

There’s a similar thing going on with Olenna and sexism. Much like Olenna loves her grandson whilst casually throwing out slurs about gay men in general, Olenna loves and educates her granddaughter whilst demeaning, condescending to, and occasionally threatening other women. If this was deliberate, written with full awareness that Olenna is homophobic and sexist, and her tolerance for gay people and women in politics extends only as far as her family tree does, we’d have a pretty excellent character on our hands here still. As it is, what we have is an unacknowledged double standard.

(36:00) Renly and/or Loras is gay: 1. Been a while since I had to bring this out for reasons of people being homophobic! It’s the verbal version of Loras’ affair with Olyvar in season three: Renly was gay, so of course he had sex with a lot of men.

(36:14) “She wants to drag our name through the dirt. Put us in our place.” I’d be more sympathetic if Olenna hadn’t planned the murder of one of Cersei’s sons, and Olenna and Margaery together hadn’t planned the rape of Cersei’s other son. These two Tyrells aren’t exactly blameless, here, they’ve done plenty to Cersei personally - so why are we seeing this scene of Olenna and Margaery being all indignant that Cersei’s successfully imprisoned one of their family members? What a nerve Cersei has, wanting the woman who is raping her son, along with the family who gives her the platform from which she achieved the ability to rape Cersei’s son, out of power.

It’s fine to criticise Cersei for being bad at governing, and for targeting Loras as a means to get to Margaery, but this depiction of Cersei as somehow unreasonable just for wanting Margaery nowhere near Tommen is disgusting. The depictions of sympathetic and unsympathetic characters in this arc depend on the writers’ refusal to acknowledge that Margaery raped and abused Tommen. Accept that, and this arc changes drastically.

(36:37) “Put the pen down, dear, we both know you’re not writing anything.”

There are two layers of stuff going on here, one good layer, one bad layer. The good layer is in pointing out how Cersei is imitating her father’s techniques for controlling meetings with pretty much zero success. The bad layer is in how, unexamined, sexism plays into Olenna’s ability and willingness to call it out. Cersei is doing the same job as Tywin was back in season three; she has every bit as much reason to write things as Tywin did. Not only does Olenna use the reductive dear to address the Dowager Queen, Cersei gets no benefit of the doubt.

(36:42) Woman called slut/harlot/whore: 1. (Calling Cersei a tart counts.) Let’s look at how this conversation has gone thus far.

OLENNA: You ever going to speak to me? CERSEI: I didn’t invite you. OLENNA: You’re not even doing anything important. CERSEI: That’s a bit rude. OLENNA: Whore.

We’re supposed to find Olenna funny because she just called Cersei a slut. Witty.

(37:23) “Do you expect our alliance to continue after you’ve thrown our future into prison?” Do the writers expect us to look past the fact that Olenna murdered one of Cersei’s sons and arranged the rape of the other? Yes! Yes they do! Olenna shot first in this little confrontation of theirs.

I just find it utterly bizarre that we’re supposed to be on the Tyrells’ side here. I can understand being on Loras’ side - dude’s done nothing but practice with swords and have sex with Olyvar in the past few seasons, certainly nothing he deserves to be thrown in a dungeon for. But while he’s been having a good time, his grandmother and sister have been up to some seriously shady things, as bad as anything we see Cersei do. One premeditated murder and several strategically planned rapes, against Cersei’s abuse of the justice system. I can understand preferring Margaery and Olenna’s competence (though we haven’t seen Margaery even try to do any governing) over Cersei’s incompetence, but I fail to see much morally better about these two in show-verse.

(37:43) Ah, the Lannister-Tyrell alliance, bringing peace to a war-torn country. Not in the books, on account of a lot of survivors being outraged at the atrocity committed to bring an end to the bulk of the conventional fighting. In the show the surviving Northerners and Riverlanders (well, I think, but the Riverlanders may not exist this season) just put their feet up for a season or two.

(39:01) Loras refused to leave Renly’s bedside even as Stannis’ army closed in? That sounds like a scene I would have liked to see.

(40:15) The High Sparrow went and boned up on legal procedure specifically for this, I guess. Dude’s got talent!

(41:15) I understand the logic of bringing out Loras’ lover to testify against both him and Margaery, but again there’s a plothole. It’s called he-said-they-said. Both Loras and Margaery managed to lie just then with perfectly straight faces; all they need to do is continue lying. The queen and her brother. Both are of good reputation. Their word should be preferred.

When Cersei was stacking Tyrion’s trial, in both versions, she brought out a whole bunch of real incidents to make the central falsehood go down easy. She made sure she proved means (Pycelle’s testimony), motive (well-documented animosity between Joffrey and Tyrion), and opportunity (lots of wedding guests saw him handling the chalice). One random saying “I saw Tyrion poison the cup” could be ignored. It’s the same here, or it should be. One random saying “oh no, I totally had gay sex with Loras” can - and should - be ignored.

(41:37) Olyvar here says he squired for Loras.

(42:21) Cersei says outright that Loras’ and Margaery’s word should be preferred to Olyvar’s account.

(42:25) Which is where the “smoking gun” comes out. It’s supposed to be a smoking gun. It’s more confusing. Olyvar already said he squired for Loras, a task which involves dressing him. It is utterly unsurprising that he would have seen Loras naked or nearly so. The only surprising thing is that nobody says, “uh, High Sparrow, you do know that squires help people dress, right?”

Again, this is an obvious patch job. The showrunners so wanted Margaery to rape Tommen, that they couldn’t adapt the flimsy adultery charge Margaery was originally on the hook for. And hey, they could make the Sparrows topical by having them persecute a gay man, too! That saves them having to adapt Loras’ subplot!

(42:30) So there we are. Loras lied barefaced about his relationship with Renly, only showing the slightest bit of disquiet (good job, Finn Jones!), but as soon as Olyvar mentions he saw a thing he could have seen in the normal course of his duties, he loses it and flings himself across the room.

(42:50) Indeed, bearing false witness before the gods, as we shall see, is far more serious than adultery and murder.

(43:09) Yeah. I feel real bad for Margaery, being dragged away from the child she raped while attempting to use the connection between them she manipulated into existence, and just terrible for Olenna, watching her plan to have a child raped backfire due to the efforts of that child’s mother. My sympathies here are firmly with Loras and Tommen.

(43:15) Sansa is still proactively sitting in her bedroom doing nothing. The writers literally cannot think of anything else for Sansa to do except get raped.

(44:08) Myranda here just says that Ramsay gets bored easily. This is clearly a callback to the fact Ramsay hurts women when he’s bored. We know this number of women includes Myranda.

(44:34) We get the names of some of Ramsay’s other victims here. They don’t matter. No, seriously, they don’t matter. They will never matter to this show. They are mentioned here to demonstrate Ramsay’s cruelty and nothing else. They’re sketches of women that exist only to be brutalised.

(45:40) “And how long have you loved him, Myranda?” This is presented as perceptive on Sansa’s part, but the audience really, really needs to remember that last week we saw Ramsay threaten Myranda with death if she got boring.

(45:58) “I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, and you can’t frighten me.” That is a bald statement of identity and power, and it is almost immediately undermined. Undermined in the worst way possible. That sentiment is raped out of her. Nothing else would do.

(47:06) The writers keep doing it, too. Ramsay says Theon’s to take Sansa’s arm, Sansa immediately says no, because obviously she’s in charge of her body and gets to say whether someone touches her and how, right? They are building up Sansa’s agency in these few minutes only to cut everything out from under the viewer. It’s a cruel punch line to a worse joke.

(47:16) Could do without things like “you think I care what he does to you?” Book!Sansa would, and I feel pretty confident in saying that because of how she reacted to Joffrey’s death. Book!Sansa has violent thoughts from time to time, but when faced with violence and the suffering of human beings she more often moves to alleviate it, and is horrified by it.

(47:55) This set of the godswood is also stunning. Just saying.

(49:08) A shot of Myranda here, in a cleavage-exposing black dress. I’m sure any contrast with Sansa’s long-sleeved high-collared white dress was coincidental. Good thing this show isn’t having any Madonna-Whore complexes, hey!

(49:29) Nothing but praise for Alfie Allen’s acting.

(50:09) Of course, the minute Sansa says, “I take this man,” Ramsay gives us a slasher smile. Oh, poor Sansa, what a huge mistake she has made!

(51:21) While it makes an amount of sense for Ramsay to mention Tyrion, I do find it distasteful how the conversation detours off. Yes, even for ten seconds. We have the obligatory ableist remark from Ramsay (we didn’t understand Ramsay was evil, you see), and three (short) sentences from Sansa on Tyrion’s merits. Leave it at “he was kind” and don’t reemphasise something we already knew. If this is going to be Sansa’s plot (and it shouldn’t have been), this scene must put Sansa first and foremost. This it fails to do.

(52:20) Here Theon becomes the focus of the scene, as Ramsay directs Theon to stay and watch, appealing directly to Theon’s emotional pain at watching this violation. Ramsay’s done talking to Sansa, and she’s now just another means for Ramsay to demonstrate his control of Theon. The last dialogue of the episode emphasises how this is causing trauma to Theon.

(53:46) It’s not like I don’t get the logic of cutting to Theon’s reaction. It makes perfect sense to show Theon’s reaction to this…if the story is first and foremost about Theon. As it was in the book.

The problem is that this was billed as Sansa’s story, her plotline was mutilated to get it to this point, and at this critical moment the show looks away and puts the emphasis on someone else.

Rape: 1.

And now I recommend going to watch MST3K’s take on Attack of the The Eye Creatures, because that’s a far more enjoyable example of “they just didn’t care,” and the riffers actually know when the movie’s depiction of sexuality is awful.

Game of Numbers S05E06

For such a lousy episode, there’s not much to count.

Deaths: 1. Arya’s kill.

Rape: 1.

Consensual sex: 0.

Woman called “slut/whore/harlot”: 1.

Man called “slut/whore/harlot”: 0.

Renly and/or Loras is gay: 1.

Cersei drinks: 1.

#anti got #fine toothed comb edition #cw: violence #cw: rape #cw: abuse #talk about failing a spot check #couldn't have picked a lovelier day to film a night scene #season five

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cookiedoughmeagain · 7 years

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Haven DVD Commentaries; Season One, Episode 11 - The Trial of Audrey Parker

Cast and producers commentary (apparently over breakfast) with: Shaun Pillar Sam Ernst Eric Balfour Nathan Wuornos Emily Rose

(No commentaries for episodes nine or ten.)

Episode directed by Lee Rose, who everyone loves.

Shaun talks about how this was supposed to be a “bottle show” (i.e. self contained in terms of cast and sets, no new locations) and shot in six days to reduce costs. And was originally conceived as a clip show with a four day shoot.

When the show was being written, they didn’t what the budget for it would be, so they didn’t know how many days they had to shoot it in or how many sets they would be able to use. So they were writing it in a ‘swiss army knife’ format, not knowing which bits would get used in the end.

When it was conceived as a clip show, the ‘trial’ aspect of the episode title would have been more explicit, because we would have seen Agent Howard grilling Audrey, with flashbacks to the relevant episodes as she explains things to him. But they didn’t really want to do a ‘low budget’ clip show, so figured out a way to get seven days to shoot it.

But it was constructed so that a lot of it was shot on stage and with two actors to a scene “which is a really fast way to shoot scenes”. And so this allowed the writers to write and the actors to act and the whole thing became all about the characters.

Eric commenting that there was a lot of discussion about the poker scene to get the logistics of the card game right. Eric says he plays a lot of poker.

Emily really liking the scenes between Nathan and Garland (played by Nick Campbell).

Eric asking where Nick’s accent is from because “it’s not Canadian exactly” and Lucas saying “He is his own creation. The man knows no borders.”

The episode structured as three one-act plays

Wanting to show Nathan and Garland as stuck in this father-son thing where they talk and talk and nothing changes. Nick appreciating this because he recognised it from his relationships with his own family: “We just keep saying the same things and nobody hears anyone else.”

The budget constraints allowed them to write character scenes and to get deeper into these characters

Emily being very happy with Audrey’s outfit and Eric agreeing “that was one of the cutest outfits you wore”:

The exterior of the Rouge being a day-time shot, with CGI to make it look like night.

Emily being interested in the ‘trial’ aspect of the episode, wanting Agent Howard to grill her, for him to “ask the questions the fans had been asking” and to use it as an opportunity to defend why Audrey was still in Haven and what was going on.

Shaun talking about once an episode is written, sitting down for a table-read with the cast and taking their reactions and ideas into account and (usually) figuring out a way to incorporate that into the final version of the script.

Emily noting that this episode makes the point about how difficult it would be for these characters to explain to anyone else the things that happen in Haven. How do you explain the unexplainable?

Emily finding it interesting and a strange experience to film an episode where she wasn’t with Lucas the whole time (and him agreeing).

Talking about the scenes between Nathan and Garland, Lucas talks about how excited he was to have Nick Campbell on the show and that “it was like Christmas morning every day” and what a great actor he is.

Lucas’s Dad was visiting set the day that Lucas was having “these confrontational scenes” with his TV father, so there was a strange kind of parallel for him.

Eric saying that Lucas’s parents were “sweethearts” and Emily agreeing that working together on the show you feel like a family, so when more family come to visit it’s a nice thing.

Shaun talking about having some of the cast and crew round to his place and after a few drinks Lucas and Emily singing and playing guitar in his living room. And “it feels like we’re in Haven, actually living and breathing the actual show”, so that when they’re at work at creating these scenes “it’s pretty much the same thing”.

Julia as a character who has some mother issues and has been trying to escape her past and escape Haven and escape this world and yet gets sucked back in. And they all love the woman who plays her, commenting what a great actor (and how gorgeous) she is.

They had to build a new bit of set for this episode [the inside of the Rouge, where Audrey is taking shelves out to find the hidden hatch]; an extra wall was built within Duke’s bedroom.

Liking the line making reference to the X-Files and jokes about disagreements about who actually came up with the line.

Sam finding it interesting which lines fans pick up on. For example Duke’s “I liked you better when you were in your cupcake room” line in episode 13, which Sam didn’t even remember writing. And Eric not being completely happy with his delivery of it. So they’re really interested in the fan reaction to that.

And then we’re into the scene where Duke and Julia are down inside the boat [in the store room or whatever], Eric saying that this is one of his favourite scenes and Shaun saying this is all about learning about Duke.

Emily talks about how as actors they are often in the dark about the details of the characters. And Eric’s response is “You’re making it way deeper than me; I just liked that I had guns”.

This scene being filmed in the studio and everyone agreeing what a fantastic job was done on the set (peeling paintwork and all).

The shot of the Rouge out on the water being CGI’ed together from a shot of the actual boat, together with a ferry out on the water to provide the wake.

Emily comments how she was impressed how nice the inside of the Rouge looks and Shaun says that was Sam’s idea from the beginning, for it to “look like a shit hole from the outside” but inside it’s really nice. And how they’ve referred to it as the Millennium Falcon on that basis. And Eric saying it’s very indicative of his character “he looks like a shit hole from the outside, but on the inside …” [and trails off as others are talking]

When Audrey is trying to get a signal on her phone, Emily says she loved breaking the glass window and Shaun liking the detail of putting the rag there (which was Emily’s idea).

Shaun liking Garland’s “She your partner, not your girlfriend” line. And Eric adding that one of his favourite Garland line’s was his “Let’s throw down yogamat” in an earlier episode. And some Garland and Duke lines (not those) being improvised. And Lucas joking, that well “they’re allowed to do that”.

Eric liking the moment where Duke pulls the trigger in the guy’s face. And the others agreeing; since he’s been kidnapped it’s completely plausible; “there’s an underbelly to Duke; you can’t take him too far”.

And this scene [Duke and Julia talking about the boxes they’re surrounded by] as “coming down to the boxes” - the idea of Duke not knowing (and not caring) what’s in the boxes as being a key point, because as Shaun [or possibly Sam] says “Duke is not immoral; he’s amoral” and Eric agreeing. And then talking about whether he would steal and agreeing it would depend on the situation; he wouldn’t steal from a friend, or a widow, or a kid. But Eric joking that maybe he would steal an ice cream from a kid on a hot day.

Discussions about the lighting and the value of having the sky light in the Rouge (and the station) to enable “natural motivated” light. Emily commented that people are often lit with less light on their faces and Shaun saying this adds mystery and suspense.

Emily talks about the scene where she finds the hidden hatch behind Duke’s bookshelf; there was a technical problem with the initial footage, so they had to reshoot it. And that was a challenge for her to get back into the right frame of mind. And issues with continuity. And Shaun saying we do actually see her pull the same book out twice, “something I noticed when I was doing the commentary for Syfy”. [so I guess there was another set of commentaries?]

The scene where Nathan and Garland are talking about what’s going on [“why’s she looking into poker cheats?”, “Why’s she trapped on the boat?”] was originally a lot longer with a lot more Why? Questions back and forth between them, before it was cut down just to the bits that were really needed. And Shaun says that “a lot of exposition gets written to satisfy certain needs,” but by the time they get to the final edit a lot of it is removed because after all they’re not doing a “radio play” and you don’t need all of those words when you can also show what’s happening.

Eric responding to questions from fans about “the length of my pants” [where he’s sat with his gun while Julia is pacing the room in front of him] asking whether he purposefully had them “high watered”. And he says that this was a “conscious choice” because he “wanted Duke to have this old, kind of 1950s sailor look a little bit, and the high-water pants were directly related to that because, living on a boat things get wet, things get moist, you’ve got water splashing around. So it was done on purpose, for those of you who were wondering.”

And Shaun describes Duke as a “surfer, traveller, modern explorer, pirate”. And Eric agrees, adding that “he’s like Patrick Swayze in Point Break. I was channelling Bodhi.” And Shaun [I think] saying that they wanted Duke to be “Han Solo meets Jack Sparrow”. Eric jokes they could take that further and add some braids in his goatee, some eyeliner, or a gold tooth.

When we see water pouring into the boat, Emily jokes that this actually could have happened on the actual boat.

Them all agreeing that the actors playing Ezra and Tobias did a great job bringing those characters to life in what was a fairly short space of time. And Tobias’ role as underwritten, because there just wasn’t time to do anything else. And yet the actor did so much with it. And Shaun’s “only note on the whole episode” is that Tobias’ hair was “too pretty”.

Discussions about the blood when Duke is getting beat up - CGI added afterwards to add to it. And when Duke is asked what the fake blood tastes like replies “horrible; weird coffee, chocolate syrup. And I don’t really like chocolate or coffee.”

And Sam talking about how they wanted to make sure Duke looked really beat up and not just “hollywood pretty boy messed up with one little cut on his cheek”, because Duke has probably been beat up a bunch and has probably beat a lot of people up. And that “Eric always wants to go as far as he can and he’s right”.

And Sam talking about how they always wanted to show different Troubled people reacting to their Trouble in different ways - so this is someone using it for “nefarious gain” and Eric says that nefarious is one of his favourite words and that when he was trying to think of names for his band at one point he wanted to use nefarious.

Shaun [or Sam?] talking about the point where Ezra realises where the box is and finds it over the side of the boat and liking this funny, quirky, weird and odd scene and being really pleased at how it worked out.

Eric talks about the day they spent filming out on the boat (in fairly rough seas and on a boat that “wasn’t ballasted properly”) and Emily getting really sea sick.

They filmed one full day in the station, one full day in the boat on stage, one full day out on the boat and one day at night on the boat docked. But the full day out on the boat turned into a half day because they had to get back. Emily spending every spare second between takes lying on the floor under a blanket because she felt so sick.

Lots of discussion between them as to whether it’s correct that Audrey would have to press the button on the phone when she’s talking to Nathan.

Shaun [I think?] tells Emily that, “You look hot with jeans and a gun in your back. Chicks with guns and tank tops are hot,” to which Lucas agrees. [In fact, I think they all agree.]

When we see Garland and Nathan talking about his mother, there’s a little comment from Eric to Lucas, “You look so pretty when your eyes are a little watery.”

Emily talks about how interesting it is to watch these scenes having seen episode 13, with the information you now know that Garland is concealing and not saying is really interesting.

And Shaun picking this up as an example of why they don’t tell the cast what’s coming. Although at this point Nick knew what was coming for episode 13; they told him direct rather than have him find out from someone else. And originally they were going to completely kill Garland off, but “because it’s Nick, we left a backdoor”.

Lots of conversation about the part where Duke strips off. Eric noting that the funniest part about that was ”the underwear discussion” and how he was offered a load of different kinds of underwear for that scene and not being very impressed with any of them. Someone asks him “Did you end up wearing your own?” And he replies “No, because I don’t wear underwear in real life, so we had to find some and it was a fine balance of finding something funny enough without going over the top; we talked about leopard skin ones at one point …” Emily says that it should always be down to what the actor wants for something like that, because they’re the ones that have to stand around in their underwear. Lucas jokes “Yeah, so Eric was naked and they CG’ed those on.” But the only part that seems to bother Eric is that he’s not happy with the delivery of one of his lines (he said “and James Brown” rather than “or James Brown”).

Emily talks about feeling so sick while she’s trying to act having fun while talking to Duke through the earpiece.

And Eric talks about the “Eggs” line as a “Jack Sparrow moment”.

Emily says that what bothers her about this scene is that when we first see her come out from behind the crate, her tank top has ridden up above her jeans a little, but “they get so paranoid about a little piece of skin that they tape it down and you can see the jump”.

Having to cut a “gorgeous” shot of the mast against the clouds because they were short on time.

Emily talking about how Audrey and Nathan hardly saw each other the whole episode and having to keep track of where they were in their relationship with each other (and also in Audrey’s relationship with Duke).

Emily talks about what a big deal it was for Audrey to leave the FBI. And Shaun likes how we see that she’s “95% sure” but she shows that there’s a moment of doubt for her as well.

And Shaun [or Sam] talking about it being a hugely important character point where Duke decides not to open the box.

As for Duke saying konichiwa, this all coming back to his backstory that we will learn in upcoming seasons i.e. where he’s been? How did he end up on a boat? How did he end up the person that he is?

This scene (with Duke on the phone and then putting the box back over the side) was shot in one take.

Eric commenting that Nick Campbell looks like a bad ass in the baseball cap and the others agreeing.

Garland going from nicotine gum in the pilot, to a cigarette now, to chain smoking in the season finale; “the kind of writer stuff that makes us happy and nobody notices”.

Agent Howard and Garland looking ‘bad ass’ stood there at the end together. Lucas talks about seeing a shot from the pilot of Agent Howard stood by his car and thinking “This guy looks so bad ass, this show is going to be awesome”.

[I found it really hard to distinguish between Shaun and Sam’s voices, so some points are a bit vague about who’s speaking. For instance Ezra and Tobias were named after one of their brothers, but I really can’t tell who’s saying it. And it’s a little hard sometimes to tell exactly how serious they are being with every comment - and more to the point to accurately reflect the parts where they’re joking around. But hopefully this works]

#haven syfy #haven dvd commentaries #1.11 - the trial of audrey parker #disclaimer - if I misunderstood or misheard any of this I'm sorry!

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