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#and the whole entourage is visiting someone in the village
theblueskyofthedawn · 2 years
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Prompt: childhood friends AU, reincarnation AU.
The first time small disheveled Heizou ended up in the Kaedehara estate was an accident - that is, at least, what adults would say. Heizhou himself would vehemently protect the stance that he got there for investigation. Kazuha would shyly smile and internally cheer that someone noticed his trail of pretty shinies, even though he didn't see who at all.
The second time Heizou determinedly sneaked in to find the owner of sparkly wave-cut glass and beautiful pressed flowers - no adult would like those, duh!
That was when they first met, an heir of a noble clan and a son of a martial artist from a nearby village, deep in the garden's weaves where only children would hide.
After that, Heizou found a way in almost daily, and their shared laughter lifted the spirits of the whole estate.
Until one day, Heizou didn't offer his friend - a true one, not like..! - a mirrored visit.
For an important reason, of course.
- Lessons are so boring, - Hei complained, confused and irritated by it. - I get what Dad wants fast, but to do it right... Too much time, it's boring!
Kazu laughed:
- You think, I'll help?
- I'm sure! - Heizou nodded, grinning. No one was as patient as Kazuha, not even him on a case.
The plan was set, and boys used after-lunch hectic cleaning hours to disappear into the woods.
One could imagine martial artist's surprise when he got two children in the lesson instead of one!
- Don't mind me, master Shikanoin, - Kazuha bowed, etiquette teachings kicking in, - I will not disturb you.
The man only waved, defeated:
- Eh, no harm done. Get to the center since you're already here, - he good-naturedly chuckled. - Maybe the company will do my rascal some good.
And indeed, Heizou's attention didn't waver from Kazuha, whose compliance - and natural talent, too, as shared as it was - made him, in turn, keep the focus on the actual lesson taught.
It went so well that neither of them caught sight of a full entourage of the Kaedehara clan with a harried head at the helm.
Only when they accidentally turned, more tousling on the mats than training by then, did they notice that anyone was looking in at all.
- Father! - Kazuha scrambled to stand up, making Heizhou frown and grab his hand in support. - I apologize...
- No need, Kazuha, - Kageharu laughed, relieved, and shared an amused glance with one of his servants. - Just notify someone that you are going to visit your friend next time, okay?
He inclined his head to the martial artist:
- Thank you for taking care of my son, master...
- Shikanoin, - he got a hasty bow in reply. - It was my pleasure to teach such a bright...
- You're going home, right? - Hei whispered, suddenly sad. He squeezed Kazu's hand tighter. - I will come tomorrow, then.
Adults' exchange of pleasantries continued overhead.
- I will wait for you, - Kazuha nodded, smiling at him and squeezing in return. - Aren't we a good team?
"The best," a bit later, waving goodbye, Heizou thought, "the very best".
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jackgoodfellow · 2 years
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Okay someone in an Encanto shitposting group said Bruno needed a himbo who could see the bright side of all his visions and
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Imagine being Mirabel and getting stressed cause you hear that everyone is talking about a vision Bruno had and you're worried people will be unkind to him, only to find him surrounded by excited villagers asking for details about his latest vision while a huge muscular Peruvian dude goes "Now, now, everyone, give him some space. He can't stand around all day answering questions-- oh! Hey! Little girl!" Wait - is he talking to you? You're 15! Practically an adult! "Did you know this guy can see the FUTURE??? It's incredible!!!!"
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vivelareine · 3 years
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Hi! I was hoping you could answer something for me because I'm debating about it somewhere. Did Marie Antoinette pretend to be a peasant/farmer at the hameau at the Petit Trianon?
She didn't. There is no evidence that Marie Antoinette ever pretended to be a farmer, milkmaid/dairymaid, shepherdess, peasant, and so on at the hameau de la reine.
The idea that she and her entourage were playing "village" can be traced to the non-contemporary names given to the buildings during the First Empire period. These building names (vicar's house, etc) gave the false impression that they were pretend "houses" used to simulate a fake village. Whereas in reality, the buildings all had specific purposes, whether they were recreational buildings intended for the elite people or practical buildings intended for the workers.
Like other historical myths, it gets repeated enough times and suddenly it's "true," showing up in books as fact without vetting, being depicted in film (La Revolution Francaise where she milks cows, etc).
But when you go back to the sources, there's no evidence for it. Only evidence that she treated the hameau de la reine like any elite woman would have treated a country estate: she was the mistress who hired employees to do the labor, and "managed it" like an elite woman would manage a country house, and enjoyed its recreations. Approving livestock orders that the head farmer requested, asking for reports on the status of crops, etc. Hosting dinners there, taking walks, tasting the dairy products made in her name, etc.
Another common myth is that she was milking perfumed cows, petting beribboned sheep, etc. Again, all false. I also sometimes see people deride the fact that she asked for a goat that had a good temper, which such an odd thing to pick on. The head farmer complained about the original goat because the original goat was an asshole (not his contemporary words, of course) so wanted to make sure the next goat wasn't Black Philip incarnate.
IMO, the hameau is novel in a different sense; because Marie Antoinette chose to include both practical and recreational buildings integrated into the same space, she created a unique type of estate which didn't hide away the practical labor used to create elite recreation; unlike similar "hameau" estates, which relied on practical production in other spaces (either out of necessity due to lack of space/ability, or specifically done in order to remove the visual of the labor) the hameau de la reine did not shy away from the practical aspect.
With this in mind, though, the hameau in general has taken on an additional mythical quality thanks largely to the aesthetics of the Sofia Coppola film, which depicts Marie Antoinette and her entourage laying in the grass, petting sheep, skipping around, digging in the dirt for strawberries, etc. It's important to remember that these are modern interpretations of how the estate was enjoyed, and not necessarily based in reality. But it has definitely made an impression on pop culture--see how the Secret Versailles of Marie Antoinette docudrama portrayed the Petit Trianon as a whole as if it came out of the Coppola film.
Back to the hameau as a fake village/fake farm, Marie Antoinette pretending to be a peasant in a blissful surrounding myth: It's a myth which developed in the 1800s, after her death, around the same time that "Let them eat cake" began to stick to Marie Antoinette. Rhe contemporary criticism of the hameau was about its secrecy and privacy, about the supposed sexual and then political dealings going on there, about its expense.
Which was, of course, extraordinary compared to any amount of income the average person would make in their lifetime, though it wasn't statistically notable when it came to French finances--and as I've pointed out before, other royals spent far more but received none of the vehement criticism and dangerous dehumanization for it. Mesdames chateau & hameau at Bellevue cost 96% more than Marie Antoinette’s Petit Trianon chateau & hameau de la reine, and they were not dehumanized and degraded like MA for it, by contemporaries or later historians/writers. One of Mesdames even wrote a letter romanticizing the sounds of the servants at their hameau, and no one’s ever really made a big deal of it.
Both myths (fake village, pretend villager) served in the 19th century to develop the concept of Marie Antoinette as someone who thought that the peasants had a pretty sanitized lifestyle., either out of naivety or maliciousness.
While the real Marie Antoinette certainly couldn't empathize with what it was like to be poor, she expressed sympathy throughout her life and had a surprisingly astute understanding of the impact of a lack of bread (see the letter written they day after the October 1793 march on Versailles) on people's behavior and actions. She didn't think that their lives were represented by the hameau de la reine.
The hameau de la reine was a romanticized notion of a secluded countryside elite estate combined with a mixture of whimsical fantasy, the faux cracks & weathering designed to make it appear when you approached as if it was a mysterious place that had always been there.
Marie Antoinette did not imagine she was a peasant or that this was peasant life, nor was this an attempt to create a sanitized version of peasant life sans poverty and real peasants. I think people often confuse the notion of Marie Antoinette wanting a "simpler" life with Marie Antoinette trying to pretend she wasn't a queen; this was not the case. She never forgot she was an elite woman; she simply wanted to enjoy the type of less-rigid elite life that wasn't uncommon in other European royals, but which was considered unusual and in Marie Antoinette's case, unforgivable for a queen of France.
Some further reading:
Pierre de Nolhac, The Trianon of Marie Antoinette (1925)
Meredith Martin, Dairy Queens: The Politics of Pastoral Architecture from Catherine de' Medici to Marie-Antoinette (2011)
Simone Bertière, The Indomitable Marie-Antoinette (2014)
And to recommend something I wrote, Let's Visit! The Laiterie de Préparation at the Hameau de La Reine, I talk a bit about the practical/working dairy and my thoughts on the novel integration of the working dairy into the hameau as a whole.
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besanii · 4 years
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shattered mirrors 60
[ WangXian ; 1379 words]
Wei Wuxian nibbles on the end of his brush, deep in thought as he pores over the papers spread out on the low desk before him, occasionally referring to the book in his other hand as he makes notes. His health has been steadily improving over recent months—thanks in part to the antidote Wen Yuan brought with him from Dongying, but also to the warmer weather as spring gives way to summer—and he finds he has more energy to expend on more strenuous activities that would have otherwise been impossible. So, with Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu’s enthusiastic encouragement, he starts dabbling in various hobbies to pass the time while Lan Wangji is away at court.
So engrossed in his work is he that he doesn’t notice a visitor entering the library until the sound of a throat being cleared startles him.
“A-Yu,” he admonishes, eyes closed as he presses a hand to his chest. “Please announce yourself next time you come in—”
“I’ll be sure to let Mo Xuanyu know,” a distinctly not Mo Xuanyu voice says drily. Wei Wuxian’s eyes fly open with a gasp.
“Nie-xiong!”
Nie Huaisang taps the corner of the closed fan against his lips, eyes twinkling as he watches delight replace the surprise on Wei Wuxian’s face.
“How are you, Wei-xiong?” he asks, giving Wei Wuxian an appraising once-over. “Married life suits you, I see. I suppose I should address you as Hanguang-wangfei now.”
Wei Wuxian laughs, setting aside his brush and book.
“Only in public,” he says. “You haven’t changed a bit since I saw you last.”
Nie Huaisang hums and nods his head, tapping his fan thoughtfully against his mouth.
“Fourteen years, I believe,” he agrees. “At Fan Tower.”
“I remember.” He smiles wistfully. “The night before the Discussion Conference. I never even got to see you afterwards, with all that happened.”
His hand goes almost instinctively to the scar on his shoulder, older and more faded than the others, the one that still gives him pain to this day. They had managed to save the arm in the end, but he remembers the recovery had been frustratingly boring and slow—the majority of the entourages from the visiting nations had gone home in the wake of the attack, leaving only the leaders to participate in the ensuing discussions leading up to the war. Nie Huaisang had returned to Qinghe on his brother’s orders and they had lost contact over the next year as the war progressed.
He shakes himself from his reminiscing and motions to the cushion in front of the desk.
“Please, please take a seat,” he says. “I’ll have someone bring us some tea.”
“No need,” Nie Huaisang assures him, lowering himself into the seat. “Your boy—Mo Xuanyu, was it?—he has already gone to fetch some from the kitchens.” His eyes dart over to the empty doorway. “He’s a smart boy. Where did you find him?”
Wei Wuxian scratches the bridge of his nose and frowns.
“Somewhere near Runan, I believe,” he says. “In a place called Mo Family Village. He’s the nephew of the late family matriarch.”
“Really now,” Nie Huaisang says. Something in the tone of his voice triggers Wei Wuxian’s curiosity; he lowers his hand and straightens his posture, alert, but Nie Huaisang waves his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. I thought I recognised the name, that’s all.”
“Of the village?” Nie Huaisang shrugs. Wei Wuxian rubs his chin. “It’s not a very large place and it doesn’t usually appear on any maps. But there was a rumour going around that the head of the family was a Lanling spy during the war and only settled in the area in recent years.”
Ah. Wei Wuxian’s posture relaxes.
“Not exactly a spy, no,” he says, tapping a finger against the desk idly. “But linked to Lanling, yes.”
Nie Huaisang’s eyes light up.
“So you knew?” he asks with barely concealed excitement. “And here I thought I’d have to warn you about keeping a potential spy by your side.”
Wei Wuxian scoffs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Nie-xiong, really. I may be retired, but I still have the good sense to do background checks on everyone I keep around me,” he says with a good-natured roll of the eyes. “I took him in as a child after an…incident took his entire family. He hasn’t left my side since.”
“I see…” Nie Huaisang nods his head slowly. “Then he, too, is a pitiful child.”
“Perhaps that’s what brought us together,” Wei Wuxian says, half-jokingly. They exchange wry grins across the desk before he sighs and shakes his head. “Look at us both, sitting here reminiscing like two old men. Why don’t we move onto the real reason why you’ve come all the way from Qinghe then, Nie-xiong?”
“Aiyo, Wei-xiong, how can you think I came here for reasons other than to see?” Nie Huaisang tuts, voice reproving even as he slides a hand into the front of his robes and takes out a plain envelope that he places on the desk between them. “When the news reached Qinghe that you’d returned—and that you’d married Er-wangye!—I could scarcely believe it, so I absolutely had to come see for myself.”
He slides the envelope towards Wei Wuxian with a pointed look; Wei Wuxian takes it warily, his eyes never leaving Nie Huaisang’s as he removes the folded letter inside. Across the desk, Nie Huaisang sits back on his heels, unfolding his fan and fluttering it with quick, excited motions. His anticipation is enough to give Wei Wuxian caution, and he braces himself for whatever surprise its contents would have in store for him.
The handwriting catches his eye first.
The flowing script is immediately recognisable, the flourish at the end of the characters so indicative of the writer’s gentle touch, the brush strokes distinct. He had spent much of his youth reading letters by this hand, being soothed and comforted by its words; it has always carried with it the promise of home.
He exhales shakily through his nose, his eyes hot and nose stinging, and lowers the hand holding the letter to look at Nie Huaisang.
“How did you—?” he asks hoarsely. “Why—”
Nie Huaisang sighs, snapping his fan shut and tapping it against his open palm as he looks at the letter with a soft smile.
“We found them a few years ago,” he says. “One of our people came across them living with a nomadic tribe we have trade dealings with to the north. I knew you wouldn’t make contact with them yourself, so I had them send a letter instead.”
He gets to his feet with a loud sigh and fans himself with large, exaggerated motions.
“I haven’t done anything,” he says. “I’m only passing on a message from a mutual friend.” He winks. “Although, may I suggest sending a reply this time? This whole staying away for their protection thing is getting old, and I’m sure you’d like to meet your nephew.”
Nephew. Wei Wuxian’s heart is so full he fears he may burst. He traces the words on the letter with trembling fingers. Nie Huaisang hums.
“I think I’ll just take my leave,” he says. “I know you are a busy man nowadays, but do let me treat you to dinner before I go back to Qinghe. You may even bring your Wangye if you wish.”
That gets a choked laugh out of Wei Wuxian; he dabs at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve and rises to his feet, shaking out his sleeves so he can bow low at the waist with his fingers clasped before him.
“Thank you, Nie-xiong,” he says sincerely. “I owe you a great debt.”
Nie Huaisang stares at him a moment, his fan frozen in mid-flutter, before he turns and starts walking away with a sniff.
“You can thank me with dinner,” he says over his shoulder with a wave. “After you write that damned letter.”
Wei Wuxian watches him leave, the letter still clutched in his hand and the smile still on his lips. He doesn’t stop smiling for a very long time.
--
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guileheroine · 3 years
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a sky full of song, chapter two
As her friendship with the Princess continues to deepen, a road trip to the Earth Kingdom compels Asami to reflect on her place in the world / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / chapter one
Asami exchanged eager glances with Miki and Khiem. Silaq stood by the door with his arms crossed casually, but they were all invested. As soon as the rickety panel separating them from the magic chamber slid aside and Korra emerged out, Miki caught her arm.
Asami caught the other one. "So what did she say?"
"Hey! That's between me and Mistress Meng." Korra winked, while Asami rolled her eyes. "Your turn, quick. She was meant to close fifteen minutes ago but I gave her a little extra so she'd do everyone. At the behest of the princess and all."
Asami almost expected her to wink again as she pushed her through the door. "We'll get dinner and head for the inn afterwards," she heard her say to the others.
Everyone meant the three waiting after Asami, so Korra must have paid the old woman handsomely indeed, and Asami expected to be rushed through the process. Instead she found herself in a smoky little tearoom, at the pointed end of a gaze glittering with curiosity.
"And who are you when the Princess isn't around?"
Asami coughed, eyes smarting in the smoke. "A blacksmith at the palace. One of her companions."
"I see. Married yet?" Mistress Meng posed the question as discreetly as possible, after her eyes had surreptitiously scanned Asami for any telltale glints of yellow gold.
"No, madam. I only wish." Asami bit the inside of her cheek and humoured the woman. This region of the Earth Kingdom was mighty superstitious, and the lady was smart to make a decades-long vocation of it. If Asami could see straight through it... well, Mistress Meng needn't know she was impervious to her airs.
"Very well." Mistress Meng pulled up her voluminous sleeve. "Drink of this vial and place your palm out for me."
Asami swallowed the sweet concoction she was handed and closed her eyes to protect them, while Mistress Meng put a papery hand under hers. She settled comfortably on the cushions, wondering what her fortune would hold.
Already life had taken a turn for the wondrous. They had been on the road for the better part of a week now, though it felt longer. The wedding of the Earth Prince was in another ten days, and Makapu Village here was one of their nightly stops on the great east road that would bring them to Ba Sing Se. Korra had convinced her to come along with her small hand-picked party, rebuffing the Lotus Guard that King Tonraq had offered. In the end, all Asami had to do was rush the final week of her apprentices' training and visit the palace dressmaker in between to have a couple of fancy gowns made—although Korra whispered in her ear, distractingly enough, that the finery was only for Ba Sing Se and they would wander free the rest of the time. So they had, riding down through the great forests of the north, crossing the choppy sea by ship, and camping in the mountains of the northern Earth Kingdom.
"My wisdom for you, dear," Mistress Meng pronounced dramatically, snapping Asami out of her reverie, "is that seeking true love is like asking for the moon…"
Asami's first faintly irritable thought was, that's not a fortune. The second, later that evening, quieter, would be, tell me something new.
"But," Meng drew the word out in a long croak, closing the other hand over Asami's, "it cannot come down from heaven, if you do not find the courage to ask."
Asami made a mental note, because the others would want to hear something as extravagant as that.
-
Early the next morning, they were dallying on the benches in the yard, mulling over whether to take a detour to the lake as they prepared to depart.
"Too cold to swim," said Miki dismissively, chewing on some berries she had brought out from the breakfast table, "even for me. And that one will freeze to death."
She had been chosen by Korra as part of the entourage for being one of the more intrepid and easygoing members of the staff, and they were good friends besides. She tossed a few nuts to Asami, who pulled her hand out from beneath her shawl just in time to catch them.
"You with the reflexes," Miki whistled, satisfied.
On the bench across from Asami, Silaq, bodyguard to the Princess (that was his official capacity), clasped his broad hands together over the map he had laid out. "Well, Mistress Meng did say I need to take some risks today." He winked at Asami, who scrunched her nose teasingly. He was a large and genial man, and had been kind to her since he was first tasked with helping haul her iron to the smithy from the ships that visited Agna Q'ela from the quarries.
"Wait, didn't she say that to everyone?" Korra piped loudly, directing her attention to the table and away from the innkeeper's son on her hip.
"She said that to everyone," Khiem said simultaneously. He had just finished saddling up their packs, and he stood tickling the reinmule's belly for a moment. Khiem took care of the Princess's dogs at home, and the pack animals on the road.
"Anyway, lake," Korra said with finality, and then softened it with a, "We're not in a rush, are we?"
It was settled. It wasn't that Korra was used to having the last word so much as everyone was generally in accord with her decision. Asami pulled the thick shawl around her, enjoying the crisp air. She had missed this—the kind of morning chill that made you shiver in relish rather than fright.
Korra had turned back to the innkeeper's son, who was being introduced to her mare. The child and the white-coated elk horse regarded one another with mutual caution. Asami sympathised with his wariness. It had taken her a while to warm up to the elk horses, who turned restless with cabin fever aboard the ship soon after Asami had first met them. But since then she had taken to the mount Korra and Khiem brought for her, a sable stallion who liked when Asami rested her face in the scoops of his ostentatious antlers.
"A show-off, like you," Korra said later, as they rode abreast, the lake behind them. "That's why I chose him."
Asami scoffed and laughed, not quite dismissively. She tugged the towel from her hair so that the midday sun could dry it. Asami had taken an inadvisable, yet irresistible, dip in the lake; her scream upon contact with the frigid waters had echoed through the forest bounding them, scattering the birds. Korra and Silaq, the resident waterbenders, had dove in without hesitation. It took a little extra effort to warm the waters as they swam, but polar people did it by instinct. Miki the non-bender had fought the cold valiantly, while Khiem abstained, laughing them off from the bank.
"I'm only moved by the spirit of adventure," Asami said, tossing her wet hair to her back.
The others rode a way ahead of them on the current path, a wide trail shrouded on either side by trees twice as tall as any at the north pole, strewn with their needles. The smell of spring came strong from the woods. Summer crept close on their tails.
"I wonder how they're doing back at the shop," Asami mused.
"You're not worried, are you?" Korra said, and before Asami could answer she corrected herself. "No, you're not. You've been having way too much fun this week."
Asami stared at her with a soundless laugh.
"And to think I had to drag you!"
"You didn't drag me! It's just that I was worried. But I didn't realise how much of a break I needed until we left." Over the week, Asami had provided some minor wheelwrighting services to those they met on the road, but for the most part she was blissfully free of strenuous work. Breathing in the clear air beyond the royal forge, she was sensible to sights and sensations she had largely been shut off from for a year, her escapades with Korra notwithstanding.
"Did you always know you wanted to be a blacksmith? I mean, did you choose such a gruelling trade?" Korra said.
"Oh," Asami said, staggering on the question while she caught up to Korra's thinking. "Um, actually, I'm not sure I ever thought about it—maybe I should have, huh? It's just what I was always supposed to do, growing up with my father."
"I know what that's like…" Korra sucked air through her teeth. Then she cocked her head. "For what it's worth, I'm sure there's a lot you'd be great at, if you ever wanted to switch things up."
Asami gave her a humble little mock curtsey, as far as possible on horseback. "And you? Have you wondered who you might be if you weren't the Princess of the North?" That was the title that always went before their company in these parts.
"Ah, not really." Korra sounded recalcitrant, like she didn't want to entertain the trail of thought for fear it might leave her wistful.
It wasn't a mood Asami wanted to encourage. "Well, then let me. First of all, it's quite easy to imagine the improvement on your personality we'd have if you weren't highborn—"
Korra wasn't hard to rile. "You're awful!"
Distraction achieved, Asami backed down. "And luckily, you really aren't," she countered without a beat, smiling her deference. She felt her own eyes soften when Korra returned the smile, disarmed and placated. Then Asami was humbled in sincerity, at the instant enhancement she had made on Korra's mood.
"You'd make a good princess," Korra said. "Better than me."
"No," Asami returned, "that's not true."
Though she meant it, she sounded less convincing to her own ears this time, because she was willing the bittersweetness out of her voice. "Your people love you," she added. "They don't see the slow parts. They see a warrior, passionate and big-hearted. And I know their trust means the world to you, even if you get impatient sometimes."
Some of the levity had dissipated, the air with all its scents was heavy now, and Asami wondered if she had overstepped. "Me," she continued, "I can't talk to someone on the street like I've known them my whole life."
After a long second, Korra said, "You could do the three hour round tables." It wasn't a counter to Asami's statement but a submission; and in responding so, Korra was gently accepting her kindnesses as well.
Asami concurred with a sigh. They would make a good team, then. They did .
The path was widening out now, but so were the trees, prickly branches curving into their way. A pleasant breeze rustled in them, softening the hard sunlight into an ideal haze. They both closed their eyes against it for a while.
"Well," Korra said, snapping off some needles from the branches pushing against her, "enjoy this while it lasts, because we'll probably have to sneak out at night if we want any freedom in Ba Sing Se."
"Uh-huh." Asami eyed her, brow arched. "Could it be that that's why we're taking the long route?"
Korra's eyes crinkled. "It's not a secret, Asami."
"Shh."
Korra threw her clump of twigs and needles at her, and they both laughed.
"You're kind of dreading it, aren't you?" Asami said. "Why… You'll be a great envoy for the tribes regardless of whatever the Earth elite think of us. And the King can't be too concerned if he let the council delegate to you... I mean, how hard can it be to attend a wedding?"
"You know, my mother's hoping it's going to provoke something in me."
"The mission?" Asami shielded her eyes as she gazed ahead to see where the others were. Accustomed to trips with Korra alone, she had forgotten to keep them in account.
"The wedding."
Asami turned back to Korra. "Is that right?" She pouted sympathetically. "She says that all the time. She's hoping everyone you meet with will magically infuse you with dreams of courtship."
"Well, this time, it's my dad, too."
"Oh… "
Korra gave her an exasperated look; Asami laughed, shaking her head.
"I mean, it's a funny thing to tell you when you're literally about to run away."
"That's what I thought! But I guess at least it means he thinks my sense of diplomatic responsibility has improved."
Asami got the impression that it wasn't that much of a bright side to Korra, and it coloured the air strangely again, but then she was startled into distraction. A butterfly had alighted on her nose, appearing from nowhere. It had been a long time indeed since she had seen one. Korra turned sharply at her gasp of delight. Gently, Asami coaxed it to crawl onto her hand, which she held out to Korra.
"These were my favourite! I used to plant flowers just to attract them."
"I see. So was that hard for you? Not being attractive enough for them all on your own?"
It took Asami a moment to understand her meaning, and then she sniggered. The butterfly wove around Korra and her stallion before flying off, and once they had watched it go, she said, "Hey, why are you in such a mood today?" She waited for Korra to return her pointed glance. "Tired of me already?"
Korra shook her head, sweeping her hand through the stallion's fur. "What? I adore you."
They did not look at each other then. Asami's knuckles tightened on the reins while the thrill of the words rose and abated. It was just a second in their familiar repartee, a long and blistering second. Korra fiddled with the bridle on her mount.
"Alright, well, since you're feeling so belligerent, why don't you race me?" Asami shifted on her mount. "We should catch up to the others."
It was for the best, because the farther they traveled from the Water Kingdoms, the keener the sense of possibility became, and the softer and more yielding the boundaries Asami knew, which meant all the more that she couldn't risk prodding them. And since the excitement she felt was for the fresh and familiar landscapes, not just from them, Asami directed her mind to that. Korra's spirits had been high and easy, too, from the advent of their journey—until today, it seemed. It occurred to Asami that Korra had never actually mentioned what Mistress Meng had divined for her.
-
In the town of Tenduk, it had been arranged for Princess Korra to open a new museum. Asami knew that cutting ribbons wasn't one of Korra's favourite activities, as it usually preceded a lot of sitting through—or worse, making—formal speeches. But the palace had arranged it upon request by the town, after the mayor learnt that they would likely be passing through that part of the kingdom when the museum was scheduled to open.
The night before, they arrived at the town's finest guesthouse. It was jam-packed, owing to the impending ceremony, but they offered Korra the final single room. Miki, however, was nursing the final strains of a back injury from a snowshoeing accident in the winter, and Korra insisted she take it with its softer bed. It left her to accompany Asami in the shared room. When they sat on the plentiful cushions over a nightcap of strong tea, they agreed it recalled Korra's apartments at home. Except the night outside was darker than it ever got with snow and ice around, and beyond was a foreign land that held them to no account, far from any castle, the room they lodged in belonging to neither of them. That made it different in a way they couldn't quite discuss aloud.
Once Korra was ready for bed, Asami shut the window, where she had been listening to the cicadas chirp in the moonless night. Korra turned out the smelly lamp. It was cool inside now, and the dark almost too eerie to sleep in. From the other side of the bed, she heard Korra sigh.
"Excited for tomorrow?"
"Sure. Asami?"
She was about to say princess, into the dark and thrumming night, but the circumstances might have carried it to an unfamiliar place, so she bit her tongue. "Hm?"
"Would you stay here, if you could?"
Here? Asami thought, before it dawned.
There was a beat before Korra spoke again. "In the Earth Kingdom. You miss it, don't you?"
"It's been a long time since I lived here. It was a long time before the war, even."
But it was a notion Asami hadn't realised she was nurturing, until Korra put it to words. It was true that the north was not the only place she could have made her post-war life—she'd simply taken the first chance that befell her to escape her father's legacy. In any case, the future certainly held other options, if the future looked the way she thought it might.
Korra didn't push, though Asami waited to see if she would ask again. Instead all there was was the dim whir of the cicadas, and the space on the bed between them.
"Maybe one day," Asami said finally. "Who can say?"
"Of course," Korra replied softly. The way she said it made Asami wonder, and suppress the immediate urge she had to reach out for her.
Korra cleared her throat. "Are you sleepy? I'm not."
"No." Asami sprang on the word, overhasty.
"Let's walk in the garden." Korra was out of bed no sooner than Asami had heard her words. "It looked so nice, and we probably won't have time tomorrow."
After a breakfast that included the fried cicadas Korra had begun to inquire about not five minutes into their stroll, they were led to the museum. Streamers hung from the building with the banners of all four kingdoms on them—it was the first public collection to open that brought cultural displays from across the world, a gesture of harmony after the war. After Korra cut the ribbon on the flagstones in front of a politely buzzing crowd, Asami and the others hung behind while she led the first patrons that had queued up inside. The impromptu tour that ensued, they later heard, had not been a part of the plan, but it proved a hit with the audience, who hadn't expected to hear the Northern Princess regale them firsthand.
"It must have been nice to put your royal history education to use for the first time ever," Miki commented, while they sat together picnicking afterwards. Korra spluttered her agreement, laying back on the mats they had loaned from the guesthouse.
"I just did the Water wing," she said, "so, um, the other hundred books could have been more useful."
"You can put some more of it to the test for the Earth Queen," Khiem said dourly, "impress her a little."
Korra struggled up and reached to steal some flatbread from his plate. "You want to feed me to the wolves!"
Asami giggled and followed suit, tearing some bread. Korra had done well, made the event her own. She was skilful now at knowing when to put her touch on things, how the line should be toed; a sense that served a figure such as herself well. Her mood, in turn, was vibrant today. Asami took the effort to gaze up at the sunset, away from Korra reclining in its glow.
Silaq was cutting persimmons from the trees around them, with permission from the warden that had scouted this spot outside the town for them. Some of the surrounding trees were blooming, while others were fat with fruit.
"Shake them!" Asami called. "You just have to shake them, and they'll fall."
Some of the fruit hit their heads on the way down. Asami took one of the blossoms in her lap and put it in Korra's hair as a token of congratulation, and Korra caught her hand for a moment as it left, beaming. As Korra stood to join Silaq in gathering the fruit, Asami thought that perhaps their moods had switched today. Korra's words last night had imparted an itch in the back of her mind. She bit into a persimmon and the silky cinnamon taste only intensified the nostalgic pang.
She turned to Khiem, who was a rare earthbender who had been born at the North Pole. "Khiem, how did you end up in Agna Q'ela? Did I ever ask?" She offered him the fruit.
"Same as you, I suppose," he laughed.
What did that mean? At Asami's creasing brow, he took a bite from the persimmon and continued.
"My father moved there from Yousheng prefecture to breed elk horses. The wild elk horses in the north… They're not suitable as mounts. When the King wanted elk horses for riding, my father was hired to take animals from the continent to breed with them so they could be domesticated, and to teach the royal stables how to keep them."
"Wow," Asami said. "I see—"
"Like your foundry."
"Yes, I got it," she laughed. "So he never came back?"
Khiem shook his head. "He fell in love with a northern girl." He handed the persimmon back; it was Asami's turn. "Are you planning to return? I hear your apprentices are shaping up."
"I haven't thought about it," Asami admitted. "But I think that thought will be due soon."
"Well, it's not an easy place to settle unless you grew up there. I doubt you have everything you want in the Water Kingdoms…"
No, indeed.
It was midday when they arrived in Ba Sing Se, sweaty and hungry. At the east gates of the Lower Ring, they were met by a representative of the Earth Queen, and another from the Water consulate here in the city, who took them up into the palace and housed them like all the other guests that had been filtering in from all four kingdoms. The wedding was tomorrow, and tonight they would soiree with the other guests, but they took their lunch with the Water consul in the Upper Ring.
The consul received them eagerly, and served them fresh seasonal fare, introducing the latest goings-on in the city.
"All the festivities down there are beautiful," Korra enthused. The party was already in full swing in Ba Sing Se; they only had one prince, after all.
"Wait until you see the fire show tonight," the consul said. "There's more than just gold in the Earth Queen's coffers. Gunpowder! They have the finest technicians working on it. That will be something to behold for us northerners."
Korra's face lit up at the mention of fireworks. Asami was ready to return her grin when she sought her gaze, as she passed her the bowl of sauteed greens. She smiled behind her cup as Korra told the consul all about her pyrotechnics.
"Your Highness," he said, when they sat in the veranda office and rested afterwards, "there is the matter of the wedding gift, and venue, and the list of attendees for the ball tonight with the Queen and the Prince… There are a number you should definitely meet with, the others I will leave to your discretion. The wedding itself will be at the Summer Palace in the morning... doubtless the Earth royals will be preoccupied, so make your acquaintances tonight and then enjoy the day, I say..."
While the consul engaged Korra on these matters, Asami turned to Silaq. "Will we all go tonight?"
"Yes, I think so. It's a party, not a meeting. Remember your titles, though."
"Titles? How will I know—"
He patted her shoulder. "For Korra, I mean. In the palace, in company, it will be your highness —or my lady, or miss if you're feeling brave… And we'll be her household, since we're all in the employ of the palace."
"That's kind of fun," Asami said, and they shared a quiet laugh.
Their rooms at the Royal Palace were lavish. Asami and Miki hurried through the halls once they were clear of any staff, admiring the thick tapestries and the ornaments of silver, jade, and cinnabar. Each object and surface seemed to heave with ancient grandeur. They slipped into their second finest dresses, the Water folk in shades of stunning and patriotic blue. Asami kept her hair down. She had been taking every chance to, since it was an impossibility when she was at work. The gathering commenced in a series of massive drawing rooms, the largest boasting a high, golden vault carved with star maps and scenes from legend. Asami could have spent all evening gazing up. While Korra met with various nobles, she and the others clung close to one another, drinking careful amounts and milling with the looser guests. After a while, they fell into a game of hunting the aristocrats, pointing and guessing discreetly from the seating map who each of the fanciest guests were. When it was time, however, they all had to be introduced to the man whose wedding they had come for.
"Princess Korra! You , my lady, look ravishing ."
Korra and Prince Wu bowed to one other; a shallower and stiffer movement than the one Asami was used to seeing in Agna Q'ela. He had removed the tasselled crown he first entered in, leaving his mantle of green silks to shine, which he wore over a matching tunic lined with gold brocade. If not for the top-notch tailoring, they would have swallowed him.
Korra held her hand out for him to kiss, and then when she kissed his cheek as customary, a look of daze befell the Prince that made Miki clinch Asami's arm and snort. In fact, Prince Wu kissed the hands of all the ladies once Korra had named them to step forward and bow—decorum be damned—and he even offered Silaq a rather shy pat on his solid arm. Korra's eyes were narrowed, lips pressed tight, caught between irritation and laughter. Korra didn't like the Earth Prince. Asami didn't think she would either, but he was certainly a character.
The prince's betrothed, on the other hand, while he did not turn heads, left a more curious impression. He was modestly but finely dressed—the seemingly plain cut shirt clearly made from the finest weave upon a second glance—but he spoke little and did not seem to capture any of the guests for long. Naturally, he was the first topic of conversation when they sat for a bite. Korra's party shared their table with a couple chatty ladies, daughters from some southern freehold, who seemed to know all there was to know.
"That man is a commoner," one of them hiccupped over her sweetmeats. "Nothing but a beautiful, common commoner."
Korra's head rose instantly and she set her chopsticks down halfway to her mouth. "Oh, really?"
"Rumour has it," her sister to her left leaned in with a conspiratorial tone, "he was born in the slums in the Lower Ring and abandoned by his hussy mother. He would have died if one of the maidservants here didn't rescue him and raise him as her own."
The final southern woman, clearly the elder, cast them both reproving looks, as if she was disappointed that they would relay this gossip before the Princess of the North..
"One of the staff I was chatting to in our foyer said he used to be the Prince's bodyguard," Miki said. "Far to go, huh?"
"Or close, I guess," Khiem said, next to Asami, elbowing Silaq suggestively. Korra scoffed at him.
"I wonder what the Earth Queen thought of that," she said.
The older woman answered cautiously. "I'd wager the Prince just pitched a fit until she relented. Love him or hate him, not having his way is a foreign concept to His Highness."
The youngest girl was bored of this now. She turned to Asami, who had noticed her hawkish gaze on her once or twice. "Are you from the Fire Empire, Miss? You have a look."
"I am," Asami said. "Though I was born here in the Earth Kingdom. But I'm a blacksmith in the north now."
"A blacksmith." The girl repeated. She looked ahead, and her chin turned up a fraction as she sipped. "My sifu defeated the master arrowsmith for the Yuyan Archers during the war, and he says Fire Empire smiths are deadly warmongers."
Asami's heart sank in a flare of regret. From the corner of each eye, she saw the girl's sister shooting her a warning glance, and Korra clenching her jaw. Korra, of course, was not above invoking her station to put an enemy in their place.
"It's alright," Asami said quickly. "He's correct, unfortunately. But I haven't been with them a long time. I'm making amends."
Korra grazed her arm under the table. She already felt guarded here and she knew that Asami felt doubly conspicuous in these grand halls. At least the young lady had the good sense to look contrite.
"You look like... a goddess of the forge," Korra said, her cheek in her palm, leaning back to assess the gown.
Asami snorted, her sharp stance before the mirror failing. They had risen early and were mostly ready by the time the sun was fully up. It would take a half hour by rickshaw to reach the Summer Palace, and they would need to get there long before the prince in his palanquin.
"Nooo, don't go all red. See, it's gone now."
"Well, it's warm in the forge," she retorted. "Are the others ready?"
"Almost. Khiem's shining his shoes." Korra rose up onto her elbow reluctantly, yawning. She turned to the little box of jewelry she had brought, which lay open on the bed. "Hey, come here. Do you want to wear some of this?" She held up an elaborate necklace of pearl and pink ruby. I think this matches you better… And you know, they like seeing this stuff, at least the Earth Queen does."
"Right, the heavier the gold, the more highly she'll think of you," Asami said, bungling a mantra someone at the party last night had mentioned. She smoothed her dress one last time, glancing at Korra. Korra was arrayed in deep and regal teals, stretching the dress code a little only as a comely and commanding young princess could. The code for the wedding was simple: green, the colour of the Earth Kingdom, the colour of spring. Asami's own jade gown was embellished with pink spring blossoms. It was oddly exhilarating for them to be in summer garb, and Asami, for her part, couldn't recall the last time her arms had seen the sun.
She knelt on the bed and examined the jewels in Korra's hand. Asami's own gold had been paid in reparations, along with most of the other assets her family had held, after the war. All she kept were a few pieces that had belonged to her mother. Asami cleared her throat.
"Is it alright for me to wear this?"
Korra nodded mildly no sooner than she'd asked. "Of course. It's mine. Turn around."
She climbed to her knees behind Asami and unclasped the necklace, pausing first to sweep her hair from her shoulder. Asami's skin pebbled before the cold metal touched it, and she made her exhale soft. Though she said nothing, Korra must have noticed because she placed a hand over Asami's shoulder while the other straightened the chain at the back of her neck.
"You wear it really well." Korra placed her other hand on her too now, almost down at her own hand. "You look beautiful."
Asami didn't dare look up into the mirror; instead she felt the cove of Korra's shoulders, tucked around her own, close. When she had rescued her voice, she managed, "Thank you." She knew what she had to say next— which one are you going to wear? —but it was impossible not to defer it another second, two seconds—
There was a pointed cough at the doorway. Korra's hands dropped; Asami turned and sat on the bed, retracting to one corner.
It was one of the palace staff; wearing the doormen's colours, albeit in what looked like a special silk for the occasion. She gazed in the middle distance and rattled off, flustered. "Your Highness and our esteemed guests are expected in the reception rooms in twenty minutes for departure." Before they knew it, she had bowed vaguely and scampered.
Miki materialised where had been. "Oh, good. We're almost done, no?"
"Yes," Korra said, searching for Asami's eye, and Asami nodded blankly.
"I'll—go put on my shoes then."
Korra put on a necklace and a glimmering silver coronet. Asami picked up the shawl that matched her dress. They were finished in minutes, ready to head for the foyer. Asami shut the door of her suite firmly behind her as they left.
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theofficersacademy · 4 years
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Winter has come to settle fully over the continent of Fódlan. Few people dare venture outside during the blustery month of the Guardian Moon, preferring instead to stay bundled near the fire with loved ones. However, the faithful are ever at work as the celebration of Saint Seiros’ birth draws near.
At Garreg Mach Monastery, a desperate plea for help arrives three weeks late, yet another facet of a rapidly devolving situation. Once again, the far reaches of Western Faerghus have erupted into chaos as the grain reserves set aside for winter mysteriously vanish into smoke. Accused of selling off their stores and even burning the supplies themselves, the local nobility have sent for the church’s assistance as they begin preparations to defend themselves against the commonfolk they swore to protect. 
It’s only a matter of time before tensions break and these skirmishes between local militias and household knights turn into open warfare. With Fódlan in the heart of winter and the threat of civil war imminent, it is far too dangerous to send the students out as the Academy normally would. Thus, the decision is made to mobilize the Knights of Seiros and unaffiliated faculty:
Faculty and Staff Mission: Neutralize the rebellion!
Though the mission is labelled for the “faculty and staff,” this Mission Season is for all muses unaffiliated with the student Houses. So if your muse is affiliated with the Church of Seiros, the Knights of Seiros, the Underground Citizens, the Ashen Wolves, or Those Who Slither In The Dark, this is their time to shine! 
Like always, threads using tasks from the Faculty and Staff board must contain an Unaffiliated character as a participant, but there are also non-mission tasks available to everyone without restrictions.
Faculty and Staff Mission Board
The late arrival of the distress call means that the knights are already in a losing battle against time to cross the continent to the far reaches of Faerghus. Of course, even the church’s most elite soldiers need to rest and your unit’s commander decides to stop in the middle of the Faerghus countryside. Help set up camp, assist with food preparations, or just bundle up with your comrades and grouse about the cold. The monastery’s dormitories certainly look luxurious now.
The village where your unit is staying suddenly erupts into flames, but as if circumstances can’t get any worse, water poured over the fire dissipates ineffectually into steam. One of the villagers points out a hooded figure wearing the characteristic mask of a dark mage moments before he disappears into the shadows. You have a choice: go after the arsonist, or seek out someone familiar with Reason magic to figure out a way to stop the fires. [Grants Reason +1]
It’s known all across Fódlan that Garreg Mach monastery serves the upper echelons of nobility, so a unit of knights bearing its insignia immediately draws scrutiny from the commonfolk. They accuse you all of sympathizing with the greedy lords of their land and, armed with nothing but pitchforks and torches, launch a guerilla attack against your unit before you can reach the village gates. Subdue the village militia! But remember: injuring them might not help your case.
Duke Ciaran, the lord who sent the original distress call to the monastery, has gone missing. Talking to the villagers yields painfully little information except an occasional “good riddance.” None seem too pleased that he got the church involved. Investigate his whereabouts.
Although paltry at best, the knights received some leads that point to a group of local bandits. Given the volatile situation in the village, it would be wise not to make too much of a scene. Borrow some of the commonfolk’s old rags and the woodcutter’s axe and infiltrate the hideout as “new recruits” to glean any information you can about the missing food stores. [Grants Axe +1]
NEW! A whole moon passes and Duke Ciaran’s whereabouts remain a mystery. Many of the villagers have settled with the belief that he finally got what was coming to him. With the riots subdued, the Knights of Seiros are prepared to pull out and return to Garreg Mach; however, the Goddess shines her light upon a barn long believed to be abandoned. Inside huddles a gaunt and dirty Duke Ciaran with his entourage.
NEW! The Valley of Ailell’s relentless flames have marred House Daphnel’s territory for what is said to be thousands of years. Though stories and songs only speak of constant death and destruction, those fearless enough to withstand the danger tell a different tale of fertile volcanic soils and neverending summers. The Church of Seiros’ call to assist the Kingdom of Faerghus has been heard by House Daphnel. A pledge to contribute their surplus wheat and salt pork is welcome news, but now the question is: how do you get all that food across a valley known for constant death and destruction? [Grants +1 Flying, Riding, or Heavy Armor]
Non-Mission Task Board
By mid-winter, the students at the academy are getting restless from being cooped inside for so long. The remaining faculty have decided to spice up the monotony by employing a few of the students to help them chip blocks of ice out of the pond. But there’s a twist: one participant will stand in the middle of the pond and work toward the outer edges while their partner works on the outside. Plan your blocks strategically so that the ice doesn’t give out and your partner plunges into frigid water. Didn’t expect a trust-building exercise, did you? [Grants Authority +1]
Although the birth of Saint Seiros was historically a humble celebration spent at home with family, recent decades have seen a rise in more colorful celebrations, to which the monastery is not immune. Go into town to see the shops decked out in their finest wares, visit the local candymakers for their seasonal peppermint sticks, or make your pilgrimage to the church to listen to the choir sing by candlelight. However you choose to spend your time, don’t forget to offer gifts to your loved ones so that they know how much you care.
Franzi Pans! ♪ Dressed from head to toe in yellow! Franzi Pans! ♪ Everyone in Leicester knows her! The Alliance’s most famous knight, found in the school–cause quite a fright!–but now she’s here, health’s in the clear, and now she’s come to say! ♪ “That hypothermia was nothing like what I faced in my 16th book, Holidays with Fraldarii Coarse! I’ll tell all in my seminar. For a fee, of course!” Professor Pans’ seminar promises sword tricks and book signings galore! But with rumors of stealing the credit of the real heroes that lived her stories flying about, are you really getting what you signed up for? [Grants Swords +1]
Garreg Mach Monastery is home to one of the largest greenhouse complexes in Fódlan, allowing the monastery to remain self-sufficient even through the winter months. Though the student-run greenhouse is home to a variety of exotic plants meant for research purposes, beyond the students’ view are greenhouses that primarily grow the food meant to feed everyone in the monastery. The Hands of Spring, the student gardening club, has requested volunteers to help tend the crops. Many of the plants here are familiar to you, though you can’t help but wonder why some clearly warn that they aren’t for human consumption...
Over the centuries, the people of Fódlan have come up with clever ideas to stay warm and entertained during the long, dreary winter months. One of the most long-standing of these is the annual Spice Festival. Visit the dining hall to partake in the chef’s spiciest creations to clear out your sinuses and warm you up from the inside out, or sign up for the pepper-eating contest to see how well you can withstand the heat. You might also catch some of the younger students furtively daring each other to scoop spoonfuls of unattended spices into their mouths. They claim it’s an ancient shepherd’s game, but you have your doubts.
NEW! Graduation for the Officers Academy is coming up soon, so the monastery grounds are bustling with students finding last-minute ways to study for their final certification exams. Grab a professor or another student for some extra lessons in a weapon weakness, just to make sure you leave the academy with a well-rounded education.
NEW! With the rise of the Pegasus Moon comes hushed whispers of a fabled spirit of love, Saint Valerie, whose said to inhabit one of the aqueducts below the monastery. She only appears once a year, but those who manage to find her and offer her a single swan feather are said to be shown the path to their one true love. Easier said than done though, since the aqueducts are full of monsters. Ready your fists; you may have to punch your way through. [Grants +1 Gauntlets]
NEW! Constant complaints of drafty wyvern stalls and leaky pipes on the pegasi end of the stables has finally given rise to action. Today, the stables will be under repair! Fantastic news, and the words “Extra Credit for Volunteers” allures you to the stables the next morning… where a veritable zoo waits for you. Overeager pegasi gleefully evade their handlers, hoping to fly into the distance for even snowier pastures. Miserable wyverns hole up in their stalls, burying themselves in warm straw and snarling at anyone who tries to get them to move. Hapless humans are falling behind on schedule as their attention splits between animal wrangling and barn repairing. Can’t you do anything to straighten out this situation?
Frequently Asked Questions
How does the divided task board work?
This season’s mission is assigned to the Unaffiliated Muses. Therefore, tasks from the ‘Faculty and Staff Mission Task Board’ must be undertaken by someone that is affiliated with the Church of Seiros, the Knights of Seiros, the Underground Citizens, the Ashen Wolves, or Those Who Slither in the Dark. However, they may choose to perform the task with someone who is not from their group as well. In logistical terms, this means that if you play a non-Unaffiliated muse and want to do a mission task, you must ask someone who plays an Unaffiliated muse to thread with you. All thread participants will still receive any skill point rewards.
Tasks from the ‘Non-Mission Task Board’ have no house restriction and can be undertaken by anyone.
These aren’t the only threads I can do, right?
Of course not! These are just prompts to help give some ideas of possibilities. You’re always free and encouraged to make up your own threads.
How do I claim the skill points?
In order to qualify for the skill point, the thread must clearly allude to the listed task and preferably feature the task being completed. You do not need to message the masterlist to claim your skill point.
Can I only do one task?
Nope, you can do as many as you’d like with as many different partners as you’d like! You can do the same task with more than one person! However, you can only claim any skill points once.
What if my partner leaves or drops a skill point thread?
If the dropped thread has at least 5 notes (not counting likes, only reblogs with replies in them) and you have hit at least 400 words on your end, you may still claim the skill point.
Remember to use (and track!) the #toa open tag for any open threads, and you can also post a link to your open thread on the appropriate Discord channel! If you have any other questions or concerns, shoot us a message through the masterlist or on Discord!
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vagrantblvrd · 5 years
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Oh my gosh I love the pairings for the concubine post. What about jeremwood or jerevin or jerevinwood, or jeremavinwood or jeremichael? To be honest I can see most of those working really well as well. I know you mentioned jeremwood so I’m really curious on your take? Sorry for any misspellings
Well, if you insist on twisting my arm like this, Anon! ;P (jk, I was thinking about these on the way home and your ask came at the perfect time, so yes??? Also I kind of stray from the original premise a few times, so sorry about that???)
Jeremwood:
So, okay. Let’s have baby Ryan whose parents died when he was a kid, so there’s been a regent (Geoff and Jack or someone along those lines in charge until Ryan comes of age, which is kind of ironic to Geoff because he’s not that much older than Ryan himself, always a bit of an older brother figure to him and such, but Plot Reasons.)
Conveniently for Plot Reasons, Ryan’s going to be of age in this particular AU.
Ryan’s parents may have been a bit on tyrannical side of things and due to civil unrest and the whatnot while Geoff and Jack set to putting things to right after their deaths they decide it would be wise to keep him out of the public view.
They make sure he has the best of everything they can give him – education, care, and they do love him – but there are major security reasons to limit the access others have to him and so on.
He grows up sheltered in that way. Not spoiled, or at least to a ridiculous degree, because Geoff and Jack both feel guilty about how they help raise him and overcompensate at times.
Ryan grows up knowing about the things his parents did – great and terrible and all that – and how it affected their people. The impact they have even now, a decade and change after their deaths. (Still those out there who think their madness was passed on to their son and have tried and tried to get to him to end the bloodline while they can because Drama.)
And Ryan, okay. He grows up knowing all about this, seeing Geoff and Jack injured in assassination attempts and all that – and after one that comes too close for anyone’s peace of mind, Geoff and Jack decide he should pursue additional schooling/education out of the kingdom.
Frame it as totally not being related to the time someone almost killed Ryan in his own home (again), but widening his life experiences before he takes the throne and everything.
They all know it’s a flimsy excuse, but Ryan feels too guilty to protest as strongly as he might have if their explanation was the truth.
Geoff and Jack send him off with the Twins and Michael at the head of his little entourage (just the four of them to avoid drawing too much attention because surely someone of Ryan’s import would have a grand entourage and such).
Neither Geoff and or Jack like it, but Michael’s proven himself trustworthy time and again, lifted from the ranks of city guard to castle guard to one of Ryan’s personal guards. Trevor and Alfredo are two of their most promising spies/assassins and equally loyal and most importantly, Ryan likes them. (Closest thing to friends he has, even if he thinks they see him more as a Duty than a friend, but you know. He’s kind of dumb like that.)
Anyway, anyway, all this going on and Ryan’s finished his schooling and is headed home where the coronation and all is supposed to take place before summer’s end. (Because reasons?)
They have a mostly uneventful journey home, Ryan getting a little anxious the closer they get because he, too, is concerned he may have inherited his parents’ madness.
Michael insists he’d knock any nonsense like theirs out of his head if he shows signs of madness, and while it’s worth a good laugh, he also knows Michael is serious. (As serious as the Twins and the promise he insisted on they do their duty to the kingdom if he became the same sort of monsters his parents were.)
He still worries. (Remembers overhearing Geoff and Jack when they got a little too into their drink late on winter nights and the way their own parents were executed by Ryan’s for committing treason and just. Wow, a lot to unpack there especially because the two of them never held his parents’ acts against him and just yes. He’s worried he’ll go mad and since they’re among the closest, most dangerous threats to anything he might do of course they’d have to be dealt with first.)
So, you know.
Ryan’s all fucked up about going mad and everything and also just learning to be a good ruler even though Geoff and Jack will serve as close advisors and so on.
And then!
There’s a storm or bandit attack that scatters their little group, has Ryan ending up in this tiny podunk village where they don’t ask questions. (Too many, at any rate.)
He has to wait the storm out there, worried for the others but they’re skilled fighters and he’s not with them so they should be safer?
And anyway, he notices this village is barely hanging on. Not like the other villages he’d seen on his journey to and from the neighboring country he went to school. The brief tours Geoff and Jack would allow him when he was younger.
Finds out they’re not receiving the aid they should, that the bandits are rampant and overall it’s gone unnoticed too long. (Greedy nobles squeezing what they can from them because they’re sitting on valuable land or there are mines rich with ore the people won’t relinquish and so on and so forth.)
And!
There’s a guard from a nearby city on leave, visiting the family who took him in when his parents were killed in a bandit raid years and years ago.
Bright smile and infectious laughter and – totally against some outdated order of the kingdom – teaching the men and kids of the village how to fight. (Something, something, incite rebellion against the crown if the people were properly taught to fight and all that.)
The guard knows if he’s caught out he’ll face jail, or execution, but what else can he do when his village is suffering and they’ve been denied help? So he made himself someone who could protect them by learning to fight and passing his knowledge on.
And Ryan, okay.
At first he’s all :O at the guard’s brazenness – he teaches them in broad daylight where just anyone can see!
But then Jeremy notices the stranded stranger watching and calls him over – doesn’t know what he thinks he’s doing because this is bound to land him in hot water, but hey, you know.
Poor guy was separated from his traveling party by bandits and he was injured in the fray and maybe he should learn how to defend himself?
So Ryan ends up as his training partner and Ryan is totally handling it just fine, you know? Especially when Jeremy corrects his technique (wouldn’t do to give away the fact Ryan’s a decent fighter in his own right because his cover story!!1!) by stepping in close and repositioning his grip on his weapon and so on and so forth.
The bright smile and genuine delight when he praises Ryan when he gets a move right. (Ryan being thrown and pinned and all that Good Shit when Jeremy disarms him and shows him – and their audience – how to stay alive until they can get a weapon in their hands.
Jeremy breaking off every so often to help the others, encourage the kids to keep at it because practice is how you improve! Mistakes are part of learning! And other uplifting things.
And then it rains again, everyone running to shelter and Ryan ends up eating in the humble little home of Jeremy’s adopted family and just.
A lot of Things I Love all tossed together.
And then!
A few days later Michael and the others find Ryan again and they have to finish their trek back to the castle.
Michael and the others giving Ryan and Jeremy Privacy while they make their goodbyes and totally not giving Ryan grief about it on the way back to the castle. (They would never!!11)
Ryan gets home and there’s a Touching Reunion between him and Geoff and Jack and once he’s settled back in they get on with the coronation business.
Shortly after Ryan’s coronation Trevor sidles over to let him know there’s Serious Business to see to at court, a matter of Treason ans such?
Ryan is like, well shit, because it’s like the billionth time since he took the throne. (Assassination attempts and Plotting To Overthrow the Mad King and so on.)
When the offender if brought before him it’s Jeremy.
Bound in chains and looking ragged like he’s been ill-treated before being brought to court for his crimes.
Which, as it turns out, is the whole teaching the people in his village how to fight? (Ryan’s enemies digging deep, or a sycophant chancing upon Jeremy hoping to curry favor with Ryan for exposing this nobody who is clearly out to incite rebellion.)
Trevor and Alfredo have obviously been keeping close watch on Jeremy – Ryan clearly liked him *wink wink* and also Jeremy’s own Potential and such – so they intervened when he was arrested and insisted he be brought before Ryan.
And then!
Someone rips the hood off Jeremy’s head and he’s like. He figures he’s going to be executed so he comes out firing, lays out this list of injustices against his village and others like it out there and just goes on and on and on until he runs out of breath.
The whole court is silent because such insolence?
Trevor clears his throat, which is Ryan’s cue to speak – he flubs badly - but recovers and addresses Jeremy’s grievances with the due respect they deserve, promises change will happen and Jeremy is like what the shit, because that’s Ryan???
Idiot who didn’t know how to hold s sword and always ended up on his back in the mud no matter how blatantly Jeremy telegraphed his moves and oh shit oh shit oh shit, he’s the king???
And then!!1!
Because Ryan can’t just let the whole Treason business slide, he does Research. Makes the mistake of asking Geoff what he should do – Jeremy’s not wrong for anything he did- and Geoff okay.
Super fucking Tired of everything makes what’s meant to be a throwaway joke about this insanely old tradition of the king and concubines and whatever. Something from the days their people were conquerors and Ryan is like !!!
And so he goes down to the dungeon cell Jeremy’s in. Michael goes along too, because people are constantly trying to kill Ryan and the king is a goddamned moron, but he gives them the semblance of privacy as Ryan fumbles his way to explaining his offer to Jeremy?
Jeremy who just stares at Ryan because what the actual hell is happening? (But you know, given the choice between public execution or pretending to be Ryan’s concubine? It’s an easy enough choice.)
Jeremy has the chance to ~earn his freedom for services rendered (he almost, almost laughs at the way Ryan’s face turns bright red during this part because lol, what a fearsome tyrant he is. Lost to his own madness and so on) and all that.
And then it’s just.
Romcom shenanigans with Jeremy swanning around taking advantage of his new job title or whatever you want to call it. Enjoys fucking with Ryan once he realizes he really is an idiot. He and Michael get along too well for Ryan’s peace of mind – they’re terrible enough on their own, but absolutely horrible when they team up.
Ryan can’t tell if the Twins are teaching Jeremy or if it’s the other way around, and is too scared to ask.
Geoff and Jack are freaking dying over Ryan being the one to Suffer for once.
And then there’s some Grand Conspiracy against Ryan Jeremy helps thwart? Pretends to go along with the conspirators because he’s been turned into a concubine and surely will want his revenge and Ryan is all :((((((((((((((((((((((( thinking Jeremy’s been playing him for a fool this entire time, that it was all an act – but then Jeremy reveals it was all a plot to capture the conspirators and Ryan you dunce, of course Jeremy’s madly in love with you.
And then, like.
Romance???
Ryan finally able to push new laws through that the conspirators who have been blocking them for so long are either dead or disgraced and everyone else are in favor of these changes.
Happily ever after for everyone, although Ryan laments the days Jeremy would go around shirtless all the time. (Not proper for the king’s husband, although Jeremy indulges him when they can because Ryan’s just that ridiculous.)
Jerevin:
Newly crowned king, Gavin plays the part of a fool because his is a small kingdom, right? In no real position to go to war over the smallest slight. Seems to bow and scrape to other kings and queens and only those paying close attention realize his kingdom gets the better part of any deal they make.
Perhaps not immediately noticeable, some take years to show the benefits they’ll reap, but his kingdom is happy and prosperous.
(The kingdom straddles a mountain range with treacherous paths and only a few routes viable for those on either side, so they see a lot of trade and the whatnot. Have managed to avoid war for generation by knowing how to negotiate deals with all parties coming away from the table satisfied and such.)
Jeremy’s a young guard who was born in a neighboring country and found himself enlisting in Gavin’s army...because reasons and circumstances. (Former street rat and no loyalty to any royal, but he’s heard good things about this new king and anyway, he’ll get a roof over his head and meals and coin for his pouch. Better deal than anything else he could find and he’s only expected to serve for three, four years  at most.)
He’s there in Gavin’s entourage on the way back from a negotiation when there’s an ambush – regular bandits or something more, no one knows – and he saves Gavin’s life.
Takes an arrow to the knee and tries to laugh it off when Gavin goes to the healer’s tent to check on him. All those stories he’d heard from city guards and veteran soldiers. Worried about future prospects but at least he’s alive?
And then there’s a misunderstanding or some such. Gavin just wanted to repay him for saving his life, intended to find him a suitable position in the castle proper once everything settled down some, but you know.
Suddenly everyone thinks Gavin took a liking to this young guard and made him his concubine?
Perhaps there was a Thing before the ambush in which the two of them stayed up all night playing card games or whatever in Gavin’s chambers. People thinking it was a bit more intimate than Gavin falling asleep partway through the night because exhaustion from his duties and Jeremy putting him to bed with this goofy little smile because FEELS and keeping watch.
Gavin being utterly mortified while Jeremy is initially confused because deciding to make the most of it. (Makes Gavin’s skeptics super uncomfortable and teases the hell out of Gavin and general romcom shenanigans before they get their shit together and realize they have FEELINGS for one another and happily ever after.)
Jerevinwood:
This whole plot where Gavin’s entourage is ambushed and while no one is killed, Gavin’s the only one fit to travel.
Michael and the others refuse to let Gavin go on without protection of some sort even though he insists he can look after himself -
And exasperate with their stubbornness, turns to this pair of mercenaries that were instrumental in turning the tide of the ambush in their favor.
Not even from his kingdom, but their own loyalty it to one another and other cliches, and he offers them a ridiculous amount of money to safeguard him until he’s back at the castle and among other loyal to him.
Ryan and Jeremy are kind of uneasy about it, but easy enough money and they were headed that direction anyway.
Not their fault if they develop feelings for this foolish little king along the way and vice versa.
Get back to the castle where Gavin spins a lie about his entourage taking ill – food poisoning or whatever – and traveling behind him as they’re able. (Something, something conspiracy?)
And oh, look. Treat Ryan and Jeremy nice, he’s rather sweet on them.
Ryan and Jeremy hamming it up as his concubines and daring the advisors who are part of the conspiracy to Do Something when they correct the two of them whenever they challenge the baddies on some bit of strategy or whatever.
General sort of romcom shenanigans mixed with Intrigue and so on.
Michael and the others get back to the castle just as things  reach the boiling point and then like. Battles and fighting and Ryan and Jeremy saving Gavin’s life and exposing the traitors in the process, because Drama.
And then Gavin being all :((((((((((((((((( because he thinks Ryan and Jeremy are that skilled as actors and Michael kind of wanting to throttle his idiot king. Kicks him out of the castle and tells him to bring those other idiots back before someone else hires them as his concubines and it turns into utter ridiculousness. (Also Touching and Heartfelt reunions in a forest glen beside a babbling brook and Confessions of Undying Love and also smooches.)
(I really, really, love these three in this scenario? But in my head it’s a mix of Drama and Romcom and just them being the biggest idiots ever. XD)
Jeremavinwood:
Okay.
So.
Young King Jeremy with personal guard Michael who’s injured protecting his king and general misunderstandings and awkwardness of everyone thinking Jeremy’s claimed Michael as his concubine? (Kind of a twisted childhood sweethearts deal.)
Featuring Gavin and Ryan who are members of the thieves/assassin’s guild in the city but due to Reasons no one knows which of them belongs to what guild?
The love fucking with people about it and so do their guild members, and anyway, the guilds are so closely allied it doesn’t matter?
So you’ve got Gavin and Ryan occasionally breaking into the castle – testing security and toying with spymaster Trevor and his Alfredo (No one knows what Alfredo does aside from Trevor and Alfredo and honestly, it’s too much trouble to ask, so.)
Those moments when Gavin just pops up out of nowhere, dagger at Jeremy’s throat and a cheerful grin asking him where his guards are now before things devolve to hand-to-hand and one/both of them pinning the other and mischievous grins and almost kissing before they’re reminded of propriety and their positions and suchlike? Or Ryan stalking Michael down int eh city or castle halls and an impromptu sparring match with Ryan being a smug prick riling Michael up – Michael letting Ryan think he’s riled him before he turns the tables on him and knocks his feet out from under him and also the pinning of one another.
Gavin dropping in on Michael and asking him the most infuriating questions while Michael’s working on his swordsmanship against a dummy until he decides Gavin’s footwork needs polishing. Ryan sprawled on Jeremy’s throne on a night when Jeremy’s head is full of turmoil and he doubts his decisions as king. Ryan taunting and needling him until Jeremy has a breakthrough moment of realizing he’s not a perfect ruler but he tries to be, and that’s a hell of a start and so on.
And just.
The four of them with this odd relationship that is the talk of the kingdom – everyone knows but there’s never any evidence. (With the thieves and assassin’s guilds involved, of course there isn’t.)
And then comes a day when Gavin and Ryan are accused of Jeremy and Michael's murders and have to break out of the dungeons after they've been captured.
At first it’s to bring the real killers to justice/get their revenge? But then they learn it’s a Conspiracy and Jeremy and Michael are still alive so they have to rescue them and then do the bring the baddies to justice/revenge bit.
If they’re forced to confront their FEELINGS for those two idiots and vice versa in the process – then that’s the price they have to pay.
(Because of course Jeremy and Michael have been told Gavin and Ryan are going to be executed for their “murders”, will be forced to watch it before they’re killed to cover everything up and God knows they’re going to do their damnedest to escape/make the baddies pay for their crimes.)
Super dramatic reunion scene/climactic battle and then like. ALL the FEELINGS as they finally admit they’re totally in love with one another and have been for ages and EVERYONE KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME BUT THEM.
Jeremichael:
So this is one that sticks closest to the original premise in my head?
Michael and Jeremy who train together as kids.
Jeremy from a poor village who intends to send what money he can home to his family and the village and young prince Michael whose parents think it’s best he not think himself too above the people whose welfare he’s responsible for.
They become good friends early on – maybe a bit of youth and ego at first, but that fades as they get to know one another over time. Goes from being something on it’s way to ugly and bitter to friendly teasing as they work together to improve their skills.
And then there’s an accident, some stupid little thing, and Jeremy’s going to be sent back to his village once he’s healed enough. Won’t ever become a guard with that limp or whatever else injury, but he’s young enough he can learn a trade. (Bitter seed planted in his heart because he doesn’t have the money to gain an apprenticeship, but pride and whatnot.)
Michael doesn’t know until later, Jeremy about to be sent home and he rushes to find him. Thought he’d done something to make Jeremy mad with him, not knowing Jeremy thought the same about Michael and that was why Michael never came to see him after the accident.
Michael catches him as he’s packing to leave and panicking he latches onto the last thing his tutors drilled into his head, old, outdated (barbaric) traditions having to do with concubines and blurts out an idea to keep Jeremy with him?
Tells him he’ll have a roof over his head and food and money to send home and all that and misses the way Jeremy’s face twists. (Budding feeling for Michael soured by this Deal Michael wants to make with him and of course, of course Michael wouldn’t see him in that way. He's going to be king, and Jeremy’s some poor kid who lost his chance at being someone.)
Still.
The prospect of being able to help his family and his village are too good to pass up and he accepts.
Michael insists on Jeremy being his training partner so he still learns how to fight properly even if he tires easier and the like. (Thinks Michael’s being kind when he tells Jeremy he’s improving and all that even thought Michael’s telling him the truth. Because okay, sure. Jeremy’s not as strong as he used to be, but he’s still fast and clever and compensates for his injury in brilliant ways.)
Jeremy acts as both ~concubine/advisor/additional bodyguard and falls even more in love with Michael who doesn’t seem to notice?
Meanwhile, Michael is head over heels for Jeremy but is super aware of abusing his power/position in life and thinks Jeremy couldn’t possibly like him in That Way.
Cue abominable amounts of Pining until there’s an Incident.
Some terrible storm while they’re on a ship to meet with a potential suitor for Michael and end up stranded on an island (because reasons) and have to rely on one another to survive until rescue comes.
And then FEELINGS and Realizations and just when they’re about to get to the whole Confessions bit, a fisherman happens upon their island and brings them home.
Michael’s swept away to deal with his Duties and the like and Jeremy is mostly ignored and they don’t see one another until there’s a fancy ball.
Michael’s birthday or a solstice or something, and Michael’s all dressed up and so is Jeremy and they have that oh no, not only is he hot but he cleans up real nice moment when they see one another for the first time that night.
Michael’s supposed to pay attention to the various royals who traveled to meet with hi as possible suitors, but he has eyes only for Jeremy and vice versa.
They sneak off to a quiet corner and awkwardly compliment one another and make small talk. Stop to watch the fireworks display overhead and there’s this series of horribly awkward events that ends in their hands brushing together. Eyes drawn towards their hands, slowly lifting so their gazes meet and they decide independently of one another fuck it because this may be their only chance to steal a smooch, right?
Michael's meant to marry and have heirs and Jeremy...he’s a sham, a fraud. Never made it as a soldier/guard and  a poor choice of concubine, so please, please, please let him have this one thing.
And then they kiss, and kiss again, and just kind of don’t stop until one/both of them confesses their love and then it’s just this slippery slope of requited love and all that until there’s really no choice but for them to get married, you know?
Horrible, really. (However will they manage???)
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who-talks-first · 5 years
Text
Out of the Sun
Masterlist
Part 44 - 1,536 words - rated PG-13
The Ishta delayed the funeral for Karak by a day so that Ellra had time to get there, accompanied by Poe, Ilya, and BB-8 in a small shuttle.
“Wow, Ellra,” said Marcha as Ellra limped down the loading ramp. “You have an entourage. You did make it big while you were gone.”
Ellra laughed softly before embracing her cousin and squeezing like her life depended on it.
The entire village was dressed in solemn light grey as were Poe and Ilya, whom Ellra had asked to do so out of respect.
“So you’re the brave young man who has stolen my daughter’s heart, Commander Dameron,” said the chief, shaking Poe’s hand congenially.
“She stole mine, sir,” said Poe, smiling at Ellra.
“We’ve heard all kinds of stories about you, Commander,” said Marcha, giving him a condescending smile.
“I hope at least ten percent of them were good,” said Poe, shooting Ellra a nervous glance.
She shifted her weight on her walking cane and snickered into her hand.
“And please call me Poe,” he added, nodding to Ellra’s family.
The service wasn’t until dusk, so Ellra took Poe into town while Ilya and BB-8 visited with the cappa herders. The pair borrowed a speeder bike from one of the villagers as Ellra could not make the trek on foot.
To Ellra’s horror, the little town was crawling with Stormtroopers.
“What the hell?” she and Poe demanded at once when they arrived.
“We gotta get outta here,” said Ellra, shaking Poe’s elbow.
“I know, I know,” he said, turning the bike around.
They sped back to the village at the edge of the plains, Ellra holding tight to Poe’s waist.
“What do you think they want?” she shouted over the whine of the engine.
“Damned if I know,” said Poe, shaking his head. “Do you think they know the Resistance is here?”
“That’s ridiculous. We just got here.”
Back at the village, Ellra raced to her father. She knew how pathetic she looked limping at top speed, but she had to talk to him. She walked smack dab into Marcha leaving her father’s house.
“Marcha!” she cried. “How long has the First Order been here?”
Marcha looked uncomfortable. She shifted her weight and chewed on her cheek for a moment.
“Almost since you left. There’s been a handful of those goons in town since right after you left. We can’t figure out why.”
“That’s terrible! You know that’s who killed Karak!” cried Ellra, hitting the ground with her cane.
“We don’t know that!” said Marcha defensively, to her cousin’s shock.
“How could you say that? Of course the First Order did it! They probably – Oh, spirits!”
Ellra shoved past her cousin into the chief’s house.
“Father!” she cried.
“What is it, Ellra?” he said, looking up from some weaving he was doing.
“The Stormtroopers! Have they really been here since I left? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
The chief sighed and set down his knitting.
“They weren’t bothering us specifically, and we didn’t want you to worry, child,” he said, rising and crossing the room to put his hands on Ellra’s shoulders.
“But they killed Karak because he knew where the Resistance base was!” she cried.
“What?” said the chief, looking a little dumb.
“Don’t you see? He was the only one of you who knew where the base was!”
“That’s absurd, Ellra. Why would they kill him if he had the information they wanted?”
By this time, Poe walked in, listening to the exchange.
“He wouldn’t tell them,” he said, folding his arms. “If he refused to give it up, they killed him.”
“I need to see Karak’s body,” demanded Ellra.
“Ellra, that’s indecent,” her father said.
“Damn it, father, it’s life and death!”
The chief sighed and motioned for the pair to follow him out of the house. He led them to the village center where a funeral pyre was built up around a small platform.
“Oh, Karak,” said Ellra, stopping short.
“You don’t have to look, Ell,” said Poe, putting his hand in the middle of her back. “I’ll look.”
She wanted to protest, to force herself to look, but she found she couldn’t move from her spot in the middle of the dirt pathway.
Poe moved some of the bundles of wood to approach the platform. A heavy cloth covered the body and fresh flowers and herbs were piled all over it. He pulled back the cover and sharply turned his head, coughing.
“How long was Karak missing?” he asked, holding the back of his hand to his mouth.
“A little more than three weeks,” said the chief, putting his arms around Ellra. “The village healer determined he had been dead the whole time.”
Poe nodded. “I’m not a doc or anything but that sounds right. Did the healer say what he thought these marks were?”
Ellra didn’t have to look to know Poe was talking about torture.
“He was baffled,” said the chief. “But we’re simple people. The worst he’s seen is a trampling by a stampede.”
“Well, I’ve been around war long enough to know what I’m seeing,” said Poe, looking at Ellra and her father over his shoulder. “Karak was tortured to death.”
Ellra screamed, dropping to her knees.
“Father, they tortured our Karak!” she cried, sobbing.
The chief trembled, hiding his face.
“I’m sorry, you two. But this is important to know,” said Poe, covering Karak’s body back up, replacing the flowers and wood. “Karak didn’t betray us.”
Ilya rushed up, panting.
“I heard screaming,” she said, rushing to her friend. “Ell, are you okay?”
Ellra tearfully recounted the afternoon’s events. Ilya was naturally horrified by everything.
“How did the First Order know poor Karak had been to our base?” she asked, folding her arms.
Poe looked at Ellra at this, his frown showing his thoughts.
“No,” said Ellra, holding up a single finger and jerking it toward him. “No one here would betray us. These are my people.”
Poe shrugged, biting his lip.
“It’s just – ”
“Shut up, Poe!” said Ellra. “No!”
Her father looked solemn. “Ellra, he has a point. Who would reveal to the First Order that Karak knew your base’s location? Who else knew? Only our people.”
“Father, I cannot believe you’re saying this!” said Ellra, stamping her foot and cane in unison. She dissolved into a fit of Ishto, cursing and denying the possibility of someone in her village betraying the Resistance.
“I don’t need to speak Ishto to know what she’s sayin’, yeah,” said Ilya, studying the group.
“How can we find out who got our dear Karak killed?” said the chief, turning to Poe.
Poe shuffled his boots in the sand, chewing his lip. “You won’t like it, Chief,” he said, crossing and uncrossing his arms.
“Torture?”
“What? No! I meant we have to interrogate everyone in the village somehow. Everyone who lives here is a suspect. Maybe someone saw something helpful. Even a hint can help us narrow it down,” said Poe, looking around him at the people going about their business.
Cappa pelts dried in the sun as skinners stretched them over wooden frames, young women piled wild fruits in bushel baskets, children ran and played. The scene was too picturesque to suggest any of these people could betray the Resistance and their fellow Ishta.
The village had decided together to donate to the Resistance. They believed it was a noble cause to support. Even though they had yet to encounter the First Order, the elders in the village, who remembered the Empire all too well, assured everyone else that it was only a matter of time before the First Order was as bad as the Empire, or worse. It was ridiculous to even suggest one of the Isha would support the First Order.
But clearly someone did.
This didn’t sit right with Ellra. Hearing her father and her boyfriend, probably the two people she trusted most in the whole galaxy, talk about interrogation and betrayal and clues cut her deep in her gut; it made her sick.
“Can you stay another day, Poe?” said the chief. “Help me speak to everyone in the village?”
Poe looked at Ellra and then back to her father.
“Of course, Chief. I just have to clear it with the general.”
Ellra grabbed Poe’s arm and took him aside.
“I don’t know whether to be angry with you or grateful. I want to feel betrayed that you would side with my father over me, but I’m also proud that you’re loyal to my people, regardless of my feelings on the matter,” she said, not looking him in the eye.
Poe shook his head and grabbed Ellra, holding her tightly.
“I’m sorry, Sunshine,” he said, resting his cheek on top of her head. “I know how you’re feeling right now. It’s how I felt when Oddy forced me to question my team’s loyalty. It’s awful.”
He held her at arm’s length so he could look her in the eye.
“But I’m gonna see you through this, okay?” he added. “Me and Ilya and your dad will get you through this.”
Ellra nodded, biting back tears. There were just too many things for one person to feel.
,
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voidsettle · 5 years
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Slow Weekend in Lublin
                                                                                                                May 2018
Sometimes I need to get away from the hustle and bustle of big city life. Little Polish towns are great for this. They have just enough to see to entertain my curious greedy self. They have the delicious foods and the right amount of modern art - but without imposing their character upon me. Best case scenario for a relaxing weekend.
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Fundamenty Kosciola Farnego, Lublin
How I Had a European Weekend
Finally, away, away from work, from family, from the well-learned streets and people! I longed for this short vacation between Istanbul that was followed by a hollowing raging flu and the upcoming two-week-long exploration of Balkans. Besides, I had a new traveling companion this time, which is always a chance to learn something new about a person. Excitement!
A note of gratitude to our hosts: I've never before stayed at an apartment that had a quest to get a key. This vacation started on a fun note.
We left our bags and went to roam the streets in search for food. Ukrainian and Polish food have a lot in common, so we weren't expecting anything much (we'd have to reconsider that one later though), but the beer is great. I'm not usually a beer person, but this trip was almost exclusively beer.
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Brama Krakowska, Lublin
Lublin is one of those places that has a very defined limit for its old town. Once you pass the Krakow Gate, you emerge somewhere in the XIV century. The paving stones take your feet along the two rows of neat waffle houses. Narrow side streets hidden in the shadows, the wide arch of Brama Rybna, the towering spire of Archikatedra pw. Swietego Jana Chrzciciela i Swietego Jana Ewangelisty, the neat remains of the Fundamenty Kosciola Farnego with the explicit view on the Zamek with its white walls and medieval tower.
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We wanted to give Polish bicycles a go, and got stuck with the option for kids. Pure joy
Overall, Lublin gives off the air of soft homely charm similar to that of Vilnius with its slightly curving main street and the labyrinth of side alleys and sun-lit squares. This cosh feeling intensifies if you choose your dining place carefully.
We opted for Chata-Karcma Regionalna, and had the best meal during this trip. The low ceilings and wide wooden tables, candlelit entourage and warm homemade meals (traditional soups served in bread and hot beer with spices) completely synced us with the vibe of a Polish village.
Somewhere along the way we also visited the open-air museum featuring Polish houses of different eras, engulfed in the atmosphere of countryside, with horses, rabbits, a pond full of ducks and a couple of old windmills surrounded by flowering hawthorn bushes. The the placid stroll down the earth trails struck a nostalgic chord hidden deep within me. Note of sentimentality was warmly welcomed.
Yet it's important to remember Lubin is not a provincial town. We've spend our evenings pursuing the modern art of Filharmonia Lubelska. Recommended by a friend visiting the city year before, we were eager to see the glass corridor high up, offering a grand view of Lublin. And yes, it is gorgeous, especially hit by the warm reddish tint of the sunset, spraying around the warm yellow patchwork of light.
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Glass gallery at Filharmonia Lubelska
But there's even more to this place. We roamed the halls as it was nearing 9PM, and the lights were mostly out, with only the careful accents gathering in the corners. The lightwork of this place's amazing - the whole facade is a white-and-yellow screen of shapes moving along with the smooth music that someone plays on a weird musical programming instrument. We had our fun with sounds. And sculptures, ranging from eerily creepy to Alice-in-Wonderland bizarre.
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Kazimierz Dolny: Artistic Haven in Medieval Setting
With a starting point in Lublin, there are several options you can go to get some more of that sweet old Europe. Choosing between Zamosc (cozy old town), Kozlowce (museum Zamoyskich; a castle like a fairy tale) and Kazimierz Dolny (medieval town on the bank of river Wisla), we preferred the latter - and regretted none of it.
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The ruins of the castle and the statue of Virgin Mary. The crickets were deafening, the wind rustled in the grasses, and the soft tune from a far away flute saturated this moment with bewitching placidity
Despite how much I liked Lublin for its ambiguous combination of historical vibe and modern artistic tendencies, Kazimierz Dolny is the town I'd like to re-visit soon. Standing on par with the well-preserved old town of its bigger brother, this small city breathes serenity from the steep hills with the view of the Wisla river to the cobblestone streets running down to Rynek. Truly a shelter for artists that allows to take a leisurely pace in exploring the witty charm of olden Europe.
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You can take a peak inside someone's backyard and see an art gallery there. Or stand on top of the hill to admire the scattering of historic red-roofed houses. Or sit under an old tree in the shadow of a monastery to breathe the scent of flowering spring. Or have a pin of cold kvass in an enclosed green veranda of a cafe near the quay. Whatever you choose, you'll surely find the sensation of all your worries fading away into the warm breeze. 
Weirdly, with all my hatred of bone-chilling cold, Kazimierz Dolny is one of the few places I'd gladly spend a couple of winter weeks in.
What to see in Lublin:
Krakowske Przedmieście, Brama Krakowska, Trybunal Koronny, Brama Rybna, Archikatedra pw. Swietego Jana Chrzciciela i Swietego Jana Ewangelisty, Fundamenty Kosciola Farnego, Brama Grodzka, Zamek and Kaplica Swietej Trojcy, Filharmonia Lubelska, Muzeum Wsi Lubelskiej, Majdanek What to see in Kazimierz Dolny:Kosciol pw. Swietego Jana Chrzciciela i Swietego Bartolomieja, ruiny zamku, Baszta, Kosciol pw. Swietej Anny, Rynek
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Zurek in bread and hot beer with spices, Chata-Karcma Regionalna, Lublin
What to eat:
zurek (soup; preferably in bread), liver in onion sauce, wheat bread with onions (cebularz), potato dumplings, hot beer with spices, ice-cream (at Bosko specifically, bear with the crowds)
Finale
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Zaulek Wladyslawa Panasa, Lublin
When exhaustion promises to cripple you if you don't get away for at least a couple of days, my faith lies in small European towns that can give you just that: a short slow weekend to restore your rattled nerves. You deserve the cozy laziness with no demands attached - even better when it comes at affordable prices.
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purrincess-chat · 6 years
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A Merman’s Heart CH5 (Final)
It’s here! The ending of MeriChat May! I hope you all have enjoyed this story, and if you’re sad that it’s over, have no fear! This work is part of a long series of little stories that are building up to one big story where Mer!Chat and Marinette will return! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoy this last installment: 
Read on AO3
Chapter 5
Warm sunlight trickled in through her window the next morning, and Marinette blinked open her eyes with a groan, shifting to sit up. Running a hand through her hair, she glanced at the bathroom door then kicked off her blankets to stand up. She wondered what her merman would like for breakfast.
“Chat? Are you hungry? Do you want-” She stopped short in the doorway, the empty tub cold and still, and Marinette felt her heart sink a little.
Oh yeah.
She’d almost forgotten that she let him go last night. He was probably long gone, off to hunt mollusks and search sunken ships. She pressed a hand over her heart, feeling it pound under her flesh, and remembered his promise. Even if she never saw him again, she could still hold onto his memory, and she hoped he’d do the same for her. After all, he didn’t have a reason to come back, and if he did, it could be dangerous. Not everyone in the village was like her. They’d kill him in a heartbeat.
Things were better this way. She knew he wouldn’t be around forever, but somehow his absence weighed on her as she went about her day. The sky seemed a little darker, her home a little less lively. It was silly of her to have feelings for a merman, but she couldn’t help what was in her heart. In just one short week, she’d fallen for Chat Noir, and now she missed him sorely. Did he miss her too? She wondered. Was it possible that he loved her too, or were her feelings just one-sided? The longer she thought about it, the more her heart ached, and she was eerily quiet at work which didn’t go unnoticed by Caline.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Marinette? You’ve been acting odd lately.” Her eyebrows furrowed worriedly at the end of the day as they gathered their hats from the rack, and she placed a hand over Marinette’s forehead.
“I’m fine, really,” Marinette said, swatting her hand away gently. “It’s just that I…was seeing someone, and now they had to go back home.”
“Fall in love with a traveler from out of the country? I’ve been there,” Caline said with a sympathetic wince, patting her shoulder. “You’ll get through it in a few days. Say, why don’t you come out for drinks with us tonight? My treat. Please say yes! We’re off tomorrow, so even if you get a hangover, you can just sleep it off.”
“That sounds…nice,” Marinette said with a small smile, and Caline perked up excitedly.
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” She said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and steering her up the street. “We’ll help you forget all about him.”
Marinette highly doubted it, but it had been a while since she’d been out with her friends and, frankly, she could really use a drink. Maybe it would take the edge off of her self-pity and allow her to sleep that night which is something she hadn’t done much of the night before. Besides, it wouldn’t kill her to see her friends and ward of some suspicion since she’d been avoiding them for over a week.
“Marinette!” Their girl friends cheered as they entered, and she bit back an awkward smile as Rose enveloped her into a tight hug.
“Where have you been?” She asked, squeezing her shoulders.
“Oh, uh, just busy…” Marinette said guiltily, patting Rose’s back until she let go.
“Get this, girls, Marinette had a secret boyfriend she was keeping from us all this time,” Caline announced, and Marinette felt her spine stiffen as everyone erupted into inquisitive chatter.
“I knew it!”
“What’s his name?”
“Do I know him? Is he one of those royal guardsmen that likes to patrol through here? Cause I have a cousin in the royal guard, and-”
“No, he wasn’t a royal guardsman,” She cut Aurore off, holding up defensive hands. “And you guys wouldn’t know him. Besides he’s…gone now, so it doesn’t even matter.”
“Marinette…” Rose’s face fell, and Caline drummed her fingers on the table with pursed lips.
“Enough sadness. First round’s on me,” Caline said, squishing Marinette’s cheeks between her hands before signaling the bartender.
Marinette squared her shoulders as the barmaid sauntered over and set the tray of drinks down. Aurore pushed a mug toward her with a pointed look, and Marinette took a healthy gulp, prompting cheers from her entourage. It had been a while since she had a good beer, but she decided to pace herself in case she started to drunkenly spill details about her secret merman. Getting shitfaced didn’t really bode well for keeping secrets.
“Hey, M.” Caline nudged her with her elbow. “We should call the bard over to play you a song. He’s kind of funny, but maybe you could fall in love with him.”
“Nah, I’m not really into musicians,” Marinette said, setting her mug down, and Caline shrugged in a gesture of ‘oh well, your loss.’
“Well, I’m starving. Does anyone else want food?” Aurore asked, slapping a hand on the table, and the others nodded in agreement.
Somehow the world around her seemed different now, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether to blame Chat Noir or the alcohol. Maybe a little of both, but the real world seemed so out of place in her life now. Real people seemed so foreign, and even her friends seemed like strangers to her. She used to love nights like this, drinking and drunkenly singing their favorite songs at the top of their lungs, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. Perhaps she was still just feeling down on herself, and things would get better with time, but in just one short week, her whole perspective of life had changed.
Discovering that merpeople exist. Discovering that mermen are, in fact, very handsome and soft and gentle and temperate and excessively fond of stew though amusingly disgusted by vegetables. Just as fearful of humans as humans are of them. Everything she’d ever heard about the merpeople was a lie, and maybe learning the truth about them made her a little disgruntled with humans for their overly harsh prejudices that prevented her from being with the one she loved. Or perhaps she was just drunk and sad, but either way the jolly atmosphere in the bar just seemed to be shrouded in a glamour that hid something much uglier underneath.
“Are you sure you can make it home yourself?” Rose asked at the end of the night, cocking a brow, and Marinette rolled her eyes.
“I’m fine. Barely even tipsy,” She insisted, and her friends exchanged reluctant looks before nodding.
“See you later then, M,” Aurore said, and Marinette waved over her shoulder as she set out down the street.
Her mind felt a little fuzzy but not bad enough to impair her mobility. A night out had been a nice distraction for a little while, but now that she was alone again her mind wandered straight back to her merman. As she approached the beach, a gentle breeze brushed her cheek, and she felt her heart lurch in her chest. It had been some time since she’d walked along the shore, and part of her missed feeling the tide rush in around her ankles. It wasn’t too late yet, and no one ever really came to the beach at night except her. She supposed the overly-superstitious villagers were convenient in that regard.
The ocean was tides were low and calm that night seemingly just as down as Marinette felt. Drinks sounded nice at the time, but now that she’d had a few, she just felt worse. Her eyes scanned over the bay, hoping to see that mop of blond hair poking out, but the waters were dark and quiet, no sign of her merman anywhere. It was just as well. If someone spotted him, it would be the end of both of them, but a girl could still hope, right? Besides, it wasn’t like he owed it to her to visit. Sure, she’d saved his life, but she’d given him his freedom unconditionally. If she had to guess, he probably put his tail to their shore with no intention of ever returning, and she couldn’t blame him. One person who saved your life wasn’t worth the thousands of others willing to kill you at a moment’s notice.
With a sigh, she took one last glance out over the horizon before heading up the hill to her house. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep forever, but as she flopped down onto her mattress, her mind refused to be silenced. Memories from the past week replayed over and over, Chat’s smiling face when she walked into the room, his skeptical glare as he poked at his vegetables, the sloppy way he gobbled down her stew… She longed to have all of that just one more time.
She stared at her ceiling for several hours, shifting restlessly in her bed before finally sitting up. The room felt too small and stuffy, so she kicked off her blankets and moved to open the window, breathing in the fresh air as it filtered in. She leaned against it with a sigh, closing her eyes and resting her chin on her arms until a faint melody registered in her ears that cause her to shoot upright.
Not even bothering to put on shoes or a coat, she raced out the front door and down to the base of the cliff, following the call into a secluded rocky alcove where her merman sat with a hand pressed over his heart, a smile curling on his lips when she appeared. Their eyes locked as he continued his serenade until she crawled over the rocks and into his arms. He leaned his head against hers with a breathy laugh as she clung to him tightly and buried her face in his neck. It took her a few moments, but when realization dawned on her, she pushed away with a scolding pout.
“What the hell are you doing here?” She hissed, glancing around nervously. “What if someone heard you?”
“Well, it seems that only the person I was calling for came to see me, so I think it’s safe,” He said with a shrug, that playful smirk on his lips. “And it seems like someone missed me.”
Her cheeks flushed as she shifted out of his lap to sit beside him on the rocks, crossing her arms over her chest and averting her gaze stubbornly. He chuckled in amusement, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand tenderly and leaning into her ear.
“I missed you too, Marinette,” He whispered, causing goose bumps to spread across her skin, and she shivered a little. “It’s why I came back. I couldn’t bring myself to part with you, and I was hoping to see you one last time.”
She shifted a little, biting back a smile and clasping her hands together in her lap shyly. “I admit that I am happy to see you…But it’s dangerous for you to sing so loudly! What if someone else came instead?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I was only thinking about you.”
Marinette pursed her lips with a sigh before lifting his arm and placing it around her shoulders as she leaned against his chest. They stayed that way for several minutes, watching the tide rush in and out, spraying her legs with droplets as it hit the rocks. Chat nuzzled against her hair, holding her close and breathing her in contently while she listened to his heartbeat. It was funny to her how relaxed they’d become with each other considering how tense things were a week ago. Chat made her feel safe and warm, and she hoped that he felt the same about her.
“I’m not ready to let go,” He said after a while, grip tightening a little. “I just want to stay like this forever.”
“I’d like that too, but the people here are too prejudiced. It’s dangerous for you to stay,” She said, cupping his cheek and pressing her forehead to his.
“I don’t care.” He shook his head, breath kissing her cheeks as he spoke. “I want to see you, Marinette. I want to see you every day forever.”
Marinette bit her lip and let out a sigh through her nose, gently running her thumb along the back of his neck as she weighed the meaning of those words.
Chat Noir wanted to see her. She could see him every day if she wanted, and he’d come to her. But was it safe? What would become of them if they got caught? The last thing she wanted was to put Chat in danger or see him get hurt, but when she looked into his eyes to refuse him, they were so bright and hopeful. The affection in his eyes was undeniable, and Marinette felt her heart stir.
Was it wrong to love a merman? Her heart didn’t seem to think so, and in her mind she didn’t really care. This made her happy, so for the time being, just for a little while, she wanted to be a little selfish. The world could grant her that, right?
“Okay,” She said softly, and Chat’s face brightened. “But we have to be careful. If someone were to see us-”
“I know.” He cut her off gently, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “Meet me here every night, Marinette. I’ll wait for you.”
“I suppose you’d like me to bring you dinner,” She teased, and Chat pulled away to see the playful glint in her eyes, biting his lip.
“I can find my own food in the ocean, but if you were so inclined…” He pursed his lips guiltily, and Marinette chuckled in amusement.
“I guess it’s true what they say about wild animals,” She said. “If you feed them they’ll just keep coming back for more.”
“Is that all I am to you?” He huffed dramatically. “An animal? Does an animal do this?”
Her giggles echoed against the rocks as he pulled her into his arms and maneuvered his fingers up her sides, tickling her sensitive flesh. She pleaded for him to stop, and after a moment he relented, holding her close in his lap and caressing her cheek.
“You’re my human pet,” He said, bopping her nose with his finger.
“Considering I’m the one who feeds you, I think you’re my pet, Chat Noir,” She said with a giggle.
“I can bring you food,” He offered, pulling her up into a hug and nuzzling against her cheek. “I can bring you gold and silver, rubies and diamonds. There’s a ton of them just sitting at the bottom of the ocean. I can bring you anything you want.”
“What I want…” She hummed, pressing her lips into a line. “Is just you.”
Chat let out a short laugh, grip tightening around her. “I can give you that.”
“Then that’s all I want. Just Chat, holding me like this, eating my cooking, making me laugh. This is enough for me,” She murmured in his ear, feeling his pulse quicken in his chest.
“Then I shall return to you every day, Marinette. Every night right here just after dark, I will wait for you,” He said, closing his eyes contently, and she did the same, breathing in the scent of the sea from his skin.
Every day. Chat Noir by her side every day. She could get used to that.
After some time, the horizon glowed with a red hue, the beginning of sunrise, and Chat reluctantly hopped back into the water, resting his chin in her lap and looking up at her through hooded eyelids.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked hopefully, and she ran a hand through his hair with a gentle smile.
“Yes. I’ll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next day after that,” She said, and his face brightened cheerfully.
“Then I shall come and see you every day. Every day, forever.”
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basicsofislam · 6 years
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PROPHET MUHAMMAD (PBUH)’s BIOGRAPHY : The Years with the Wet Nurses
It was the custom in Mecca to send children to wet nurses in the villages so that they may grow up to be strong and that they may learn a pure Arabic since Mecca had a very hot and tiring atmosphere. Some tribes who lived away from the city were able to preserve their pure culture unadulterated by the inequities witnessed in the cities at the time of the Period of Ignorance. It was common practice for children to be sent away to have a healthier upbringing, and this practice had turned into a trade. There was a market for wet nurses in Mecca, people would gather here at particular times, the wet nurses and the parents of children would meet there and then the children would go with the wet mothers to the desert.
Likewise, Harith ibn Abduluzza and his wife Halima bint Abdullah ibn Harith had come from the land of Banu Sad with ten other women. The drought had been going on for some time, and there was nothing left at hand. The children in their entourage cried for a morsel to eat, but the mothers had no means to feed them. Because they themselves had not been able to eat for some time, their milk had dried up, and they were desperate for a little drop of anything in order to calm their children. Their only hope was for rain to fall. The way to Mecca had seemed endless. The thin donkey that Halima was riding and Harith’s old camel had trouble walking, and they kept falling behind their friends. When they finally made it to Mecca, their friends had already done their trade and each of them had taken a child to look after for a while and was now getting ready for the journey back. Halima and Harith started to look for children to wet nurse too. Only Muhammad, Abdullah’s fatherless son, was left in the town. Those who had knocked upon their door had decided not to take him when they learnt that his father was dead for fear that the family would not be able to pay the wet nurse’s wages. Of course they were unaware that he was the person to whom everybody would turn to soon.
Halima and Harith came to the door as well, and like the others, they also went to look for another baby, in fear of not getting paid. But they found none, and they did not want to return empty handed after their long journey. Halima said to her husband: 
“I don’t want to go back among my friends without having taken a child to breast-feed. Let’s go and take that orphan and then return.”
“Do so if you want to, maybe Allah will give us plenitude and good fortune through him,” said Harith, and so they returned to Abdul Muttalib’s door.
When Amina saw that they had returned, she first told them that the boy they wanted was no ordinary child. She then spoke about the ease she experienced during her pregnancy, her dream and what she had been told to be the meaning of this dream, for he was entrusted to Amina to keep not just for herself but for the whole of humanity till the end of time. That’s why he had to be shown extra care, and not a single hair strand on his head could be injured.
The family of Harith felt great contentment when they took the child from Amina. When Halima as-Sadia took him in her arms, she wanted to breast-feed him immediately. She was surprised to see that her breasts that had dried up were now filled with milk! First the Messenger of Allah and then the son of Halima, Abdullah, suckled from the breast. Then they both went to sleep. Normally, Abdullah was a restless child who would be impossible to put to sleep.
When they came near the old camel, they saw that the camel’s udders were also full of milk, for even it had benefited from this good fortune. They milked the camel and drank, and the night they spent in Mecca was the happiest ever in their lives. The next morning Harith had turned to Halima to say: 
“Know this well Halima, you have chosen your suckling child very wisely, from a very auspicious family.”
Just like her husband, Halima had also realized the plenitude bestowed upon them. She said: 
“I swear by Allah, that is what I believe as well.”
They finished their business in Mecca, and having found a suckling child, they set off for their homeland. Amina looked at her son affectionately as he departed for a long while, and she entrusted him to the hands of the Gracious Lord who has all the power and honor, so that nothing bad should befall him.
When Halima as-Sadia mounted her donkey with the Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him in her arms, she realized that the thin and weak animal that she had come to Mecca with had somehow changed and now was walking very briskly. Such was their pace that they had caught up with their friends who had left Mecca a day earlier, and it was clear that they would not be left behind this time. Their friends were trying to understand how it was that they did not seem to have any sign of tiredness while they themselves were exhausted from the journey. The called out to Halima: 
“O daughter of the Zuayb tribe, what is going on with you? Were you not the one who was always left behind? Or is this not the same donkey you rode when coming to Mecca?”
The now self-assured Halima answered with the joy of the grace she had been bestowed: 
“I swear it is! It is the very same donkey I came to Mecca with.”
And then she added: 
“I have verily chosen the most auspicious suckling baby ever.”
They asked: 
“Is that the son of Abdul Muttalib?”
Yes, there was true goodness in this event and Halima and Harith, who were always after good deeds, were now experiencing the goodness they had always hoped for.
The grace they had attained was not limited to the easing of their journey; on their return they would see that their land which was normally dry and not very fertile, would start to yield much better, and their sheep, whose stomachs would be full with the good produce of their land would produce much more milk. The owners of other herds would chastise their shepherds: 
“Woe to you! Go graze the sheep where Halima grazes hers so that our sheep also return with their bellies filled with milk.”
Halima as-Sadia was now someone whom everyone viewed with envy due to the plenty she was experiencing.
Two years passed in this manner, with visits to Mecca every six months. The Pride of the Universe had thus grown up. He was no longer suckling; the time that had been agreed upon had come. Although they were reluctant to do it, they had to bring the little Muhammad back to his mother.
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kar-a-kael · 7 years
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Strange Magic Week: Day 4 - Neighbors
Y’all gave me an excuse to write about my FAVORITE CHARACTER that I’ve had no excuse to mention in the Wasp King proper. BEST DAY EVER. Anyways, here’s a short fic, probably set sometime after The Wasp King, about a visit to their southern neighbor: The Deep Woods. Kudos if you can guess our titular Bear King’s name. 
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The Wasp King: Journey to the Deep Woods
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Bog glanced down at an incredibly nervous Sunny. It wasn’t hard to guess why. The little elf had never been beyond the fields, until that fateful night that brought him into the Dark Forest. And to say that the Dark Forest was a different country from the Light Fields was only accurate in the smallest sense. To most of their neighbors, The Fields and Forest were two halves of the same coin. 
And now, for the first time, Sunny was leaving that behind, venturing into a place no other Light Elf had visited in centuries. The Deep Woods.
A shiver went down Sunny’s spine as he looked at the border gate, a wooden portal double the size of any other door he’d ever seen that warped light round it and gave off the acrid smell of ozone.  Suddenly his staff felt far too heavy. It didn’t matter how unimportant he was in the Fields, Bog had requested him specifically as a representative. Worse still, the Bog King himself had spruced up for the occasion, wearing a long moss cloak and buffing his chitten to a mirror shine. Compared to that, Sunny’s grass robes looked shoddy. And over and over he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of creature could get the Bog King to show such respect.
“You’ll be fine, Elf. As a representative of our largest city, you have more than enough reason to be here.” 
Sunny clutched at the medallion that marked his station, hoping that the forest animals would agree with Bog’s assessment. When the Fields sent envoys to the Deep Woods they showed their respect by only sending the most beautiful fairies. Elves were so small...it was quite possible that the huge animals wouldn’t even notice them. And if they did, it was always assumed they would take offence at such lesser creatures appearing on their steps. 
But Bog had sworn that by using the Gate, size would be no problem, and that the animals would honor him just like any other guest.
“Sure you want to go alone, boss?” Brutus asked, eyeing the gate nervously.
“It only has enough power for two. And if you go around the gate you’ll be too small to be any help. So if I see a hint of any of you...” Bog raised his staff and the surrounding goblins flinched and nodded.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Good. Lets go, Sunny. Our hosts have likely arrived by now.”
Its two hours late...The small elf thought, but Bog was already pushing them towards the gate, yanking him along by one ear lest his courage fail him. One moment they were before the round, glowing portal....
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And the next moment they were through it.
Sunny stumbled, his head feeling light. Not from the magic - Sugar Plum had taught him better than that - but from the change in perspective.
One second he was regular old Sunny, standing in a large valley in the Dark Forest, ferns and grasses towering overhead...
The next he was above the grass. All his life, he had lived below it, only seeing from above in the rare moments when someone with wings took pity on him. But, way, way below, his feet stood solid on the ground.
Ferns that were twenty times his height brushed his knees. A honeysuckle bush that could have housed an entire elf village barely came up to his waist. And Bog...
Bog was looking up at him, clearly wondering if the magic had scrambled his brains. 
Looking up at him. The king of the Dark Forest was a good five hands shorter than Sunny the Elf.
“I told you. Elves without their magic get big.” Bog slapped him on the back and turned to the group before them.
A good dozen animals had come to meet them. Sunny had seen their shadows from over the border, but now he could place them. Two rabbits, one of which sat back on its hind legs and looked at Sunny through narrow eyes. An owl - a creature that utterly terrified in the Dark Forest, but would now have to work quite hard to swallow Sunny whole - sat on a nearby stump, napping in the sunlight. It had a pair of tiny glasses perched upon its beak, making it look rather like one of the stodgier wizards from the mage’s college. There was a trio of mice, slightly larger than Sunny’s normal size, but now easily able to fit in his palm. They all wore matching red habits. There were other animals that Sunny couldn’t identify beyond; a chubby looking blue horse, a big creature that reminded Sunny of the terrifying cat his brother had told horror stories of...and others that he had no context at all for.
But it was clear that none of these were the leader. But Bog bowed to them all nonetheless, and several bowed back, prompting Sunny to do the same. For a moment he was caught in a bowing contest with the mice, before Bog caught his shoulder and pointed to the creature approaching.
Step by ponderous step, a huge bear approached. Suddenly, Sunny knew why Bog had brought him; no one else in the whole Dark Forest could possibly match the thing’s height. The Bear King towered, every step he took proof of the sheer mass of him. The earth rumbled as he walked, and the other animals moved aside to let their leader through.
A huge cushion had been laid on the ground before the gate, and the bear king eased down onto it, only looking up to his entourage when he had finally settled.
Only for the whole ceremony to be rather ruined when the yellow rabbit said, “Really Bear. Couldn’t you be punctual once?!”
----------------------
Sunny had a sudden vision of how easy it would be for the Bear King to simply eat his detractors in one gulp, and was waiting for the crunch when Bear laughed.
“Things worth doing don’t have a time-table, friend. And there is always time to stop and smell the flowers.” 
He smiled, powerful jaw revealing terrifying teeth, but the rabbit just huffed and shook her head, and the Bear King tuned to peer at his guests.
“Is that the Bog King? Has it really been a year already?”
Bog nodded and bowed. “Well met, Bear King.” 
Bear nodded back “Well met as well, Bog. How goes your eternal battle?”
“I believe and ending is in sight.”
“Really? How marvelous! Mice! Bring out the food in celebration!” 
A minute and a half Sunny heard one rabbit mutter to the other.
That’s a new record, isn’t it? The other said, and some sort of currency was exchanged behind the two’s backs. 
The mice, assisted by the larger hands of some of the other animals, pushed well-stocked hampers before the kings, and pulled cushions out from saddle-bags on the horse creature. It was rather impressive just how fast Sunny found himself sitting cross-legged beside Bog, sensible cup in his hand and bowl of what looked like porridge before him. The mice and their helpers moved with such efficiency that Sunny was forced to agree with the rabbits; clearly this was standard meeting procedure when having an audience with the Bear King.
“I do apologize for the lack of honey.” The bear king said, genuine sorrow in his voice. But then a crafty glint came to his eyes. “Of course if you need any help retaking the orchards...”
Bog hid a smile. “One thing at a time, old friend.” 
Bear sighed. “Yes, yes. But there is little that would give me more pleasure than seeing the Pixies returned to their rightful throne.”
“Just so you can import their honeys and jams again!” The rabbit - who had not been given a name but had been introduced as the royal adviser - complained. Apparently, that was her whole role within her king’s court: to chide their king into sensibility.
“There are worse reasons to see justice done.” The Bear King said in return. “And there are many of our hives who would be willing to move to more fertile fields. Orchards are lovely places. Or so I’ve been told.”
Bog nodded, taking the chance to relay what information they did know of the Wasp Kingdom that bordered the Forest to the north. More goblins patrolled that border than even the one between the Fields and Forest, and only there had Bog allowed the primrose border to still grow. It was a dangerous place, full of violent, vile insects that took down even the largest goblins with a single poisonous sting. Many, many lives were lost for the secrets Bog gained from that border.
So it was a bit strange to hear Bog spill all those secrets to such an odd ally. Stranger still, given that there was little the Deep Woods could do to assist the Forest quickly, and no such information had been given to the Fields.
Then again, the Fields didn’t consider the Orchard to be a threat, and most fairies would eat their wings rather than help the Forest fight off - or invade - another kingdom. 
But as the kings talked politics, Sunny found himself the center of a totally different attention.
“You are so big!” One mouse squeaked, from where she sat upon a tier of piled pillows. Her companions nodded in agreement.
“I’m not big. Or, well, usually I’m not big. Back home I’m smaller than you are!”
“Really?” The mice leaned closer. “We’ve never seen a creature like you before.”
“I’m an Elf. There’s lots of us in the Forest and Fields.”
“Your clothing looks like ours - but big!”
“...right. I guess it got big along with me. But this is fancy stuff - usually I wear things that are more sturdy.”
“And more comfortable, I imagine!” The mice tittered, and Sunny flushed. It was true that the grass robes were rather stiff and scratchy. Woven fibers were much softer, and less likely to give paper cuts.
“What kind of clothing do your people make?” One mouse asked.
“We...wait, I think I have an example.” Sunny searched in a pocket, and was surprised to find that his ladybug helmet had not been resized. But before he extended his hand he said, “You are not bothered by using insect parts, are you?”
The mice exchanged glances, then smiled. “Oh no. We know that you do not have smart animals in your country. We would rather not buy mouse-fur,“ There was a delicate shudder at this, which traveled all the way down their whiskers before the speaker continued, “But insects are fine. There are very few intelligent insects here in the Deep Woods.”
“A good thing, too, else the Owls would have nothing to eat.” One of the rabbits added. The owl, who was sipping a cup of tea with one pinky feather outstretched looked rather affronted at this and rustled his feathers irritably. 
“Hmpf! I do not speak of your eating habits, do I?”
“Yet you’ve had half a dozen of our scones!” a mouse teased back, and the owl quickly turned back to Bog and Bear’s political discussion.
“We are always looking for new artisans in our village.” One of the mice explained after the owl turned away. She was examining Sunny’s helmet thoughtfully. “Perhaps we could set up an exchange between our schools. The journey would be long; a month for those of us with short legs; but we could make it well worth your while.”
“I’ll pass that information along. I know a lot of Dark Forest elves who would love to travel here, even while being small. This forest is...amazing.”
Sunny was speaking the truth. The Deep Wood were completely different than the Dark Forest. His forest was...crowded, full of life from the tips of the tree tops down to deep underground. And the plant life reflected that, with heavy underbrush that had nearly every surface a contested area between various plant factions. Of course, that battle was most extreme on the border between the Fields and Forest, were more sunlight made stronger underbrush possible, but even deep into the forest there were flowers and mushrooms and grasses reaching for every speck of sunlight.
Here in the Deep Woods, there seemed little underbrush at all, except in meadowy areas like the one they sat in now. The trees were huge, towering things that spread themselves apart so that one could easily walk between their trunks. This close to the border the trees were smaller, but in the distance Sunny could make out trees that looked more like walls than grown things, so big around that it would take dozens of him at his current size to reach around them. And their canopy’s were giant, some stretching larger than the whole fields. 
Of course, the creatures that lived in the forest needed more space; but they seemed every imaginable size, from Elf-tiny mice all the way to the huge and powerful Bear King. For every step the King took, a mouse would need to take three dozen. It was amazing that they could get along at all, but their kingdom’s form was perfect for it, with every possible environment within easy seeing distance. 
But it was difficult for Sunny to picture just how large the Deep Woods must be. How many tiny kingdoms like the Forest and Fields did it border? And why would its King care at all about the problems of such a small place like the Orchard?
“The Fields and Forest compose our entire northern border.” The yellow rabbit said, when she saw Sunny’s expression. “Don’t think on it too hard. Borders have greater meaning here than in the human world. But even were that not the case, The Deep Woods and the Dark Forest have always been allies, since long before anyone can remember why. We never help with your infighting or your civil wars, but we will always be there if the Wasps invade.”
Her eyes glowed as she said this, and Sunny realized that perhaps there was magic in the Deep Woods. Just not a magic he had ever felt before. Something less about intellect and intent, and more based upon debts and ties, respect and loyalty. 
“We would do the same for you.” He said, without thinking, but Bog shot him a smile, and he knew he hadn’t screwed up.
The rabbit regarded him thoughtfully, then nodded. “We’ll call you if the humans ever come round, eh? I’ve heard that elves are perfect for putting them in their place!”
---------------------------------------------------- 
“So what do you think of our neighbors?” 
They were back in the Dark Forest, the diplomatic meeting having lasted long into the evening, despite nothing much changing between the two countries. Sunny had found out that the Bear King did nothing quickly, but was an excellent host nonetheless.
“They’re...big.”
For the first time, Sunny had been relieved to come back to his normal size. Relieved to be beneath the world, rather than above it. Relieved to be back in his place, and to not have to watch where he put his feet. There were some advantages to being small.
Bog laughed, fully and loud enough that his guard looked shocked.
“Big! Hah! They are that. Anything else, Mr. Clever?”
Sunny considered. There were many things that surprised him about the Deep Woods: how friendly its inhabitants were, how knowledgeable they were about the Fields and Forest, even while they apparently couldn’t tell Fairies from Goblins - or at least, didn’t care about the difference. Their food was amazing and their hospitality even more so, despite the realities of having paws rather than fingers and little need for anything resembling ‘civilized’ society. 
But that wasn’t why Bog had brought Sunny.
“They are good creatures, but simple. They are good allies because of their history and loyalties, but they are amazing allies because of their lack of magic. I think...I think that they’d be able to shrug off any Wasp Magic because it would ask them to go against their nature, and that would be impossible for people like that. They would never go against their instincts. That could be a great help...or dangerous, if someone tries to use their baser instincts against them.”
Bog beamed. “Excellent assessment, Elf. I knew it was right to bring you along.”
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michelemoore · 5 years
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Takhuk
October 23, 2018
Michele Moore Veldhoen
Raven Feathers, Raki, and Risk
An Anecdotal Travelogue in 3 Parts Part 2 Rocks and Raki
The raven feather I wrote of in last week’s blog did, as the Beefeater proclaimed, bring me luck. For the two weeks we spent on Crete, Greece’s largest island, the sun shone, the air was calm, and not once did a goat or crazy Cretan driver force us over one of the many cliffs along which we drove. Which is entirely possible in the hills and mountains of Crete, I can assure you.
I loved Crete. Punctured with caves and strewn with archaeological sites where Greek Gods such as Zeus and Europa were born and their son King Minos reigned, ancient myth and mystery is present in every stone, street, and building. Crete is considered the birthplace of western civilization itself, so on that score the island stands alone as a place to visit if you are a history buff.  
There is so much to say about Crete. I could write of the fantastic gorges (canyons) we hiked, the thousands of goats that kept us company, the omnipresent olive groves, the pretty pomegranate, lime and lemon trees growing out of cobblestone streets and shading freshly painted wooden doors, the wild and cultivated herbs that scent the air, the pristine beaches and waters of the south coast, and oh, the cheese! I give the Cretans first place on cheese, but I will stop there or this blog will become too cheesy….hehehe Instead, let me tell you about the rocks and the raki.
Rocks
Crete is an island of stone. Rock and rubble. Since I love anything to do with stone, landscapes dominated by rubble and rock appeal to me. But when you picture the island, don’t imagine our Rocky Mountains or the stone slabs of the Canadian Shield. Imagine mountains and hills of crumbling rock. Bare mountains of, bare, crumbling rock. Most of which to me looks really, really, old. As are the castles, forts, and churches, also made of stone. Occupied and abandoned stone villages and structures are all around, and sometimes blend so well into the rocky hill or mountain upon which they stand you can walk past or even over them without always realizing they are there, but still, you will be surrounded by fields of weather beaten, time worn, sun bleached, stones.
(Side note:  Crete was not always such a bare rock pile, and it does still have pockets of natural pine and cyprus forest. A bit of research tells me that for centuries the island has suffered deforestation. Trees were cut for firewood, and swathes of forest were removed by occupying cultures that used the wood for shipbuilding, for example. The island is devoid of significant populations of wild animals and this I think would be due to loss of habitat, and hunting. Herds of domestic goats now dominate the terrain and eat everything in sight, so very hard to re-establish the forests).
Yet this rocky landscape supports the production of an abundant array of delicious food. Much of which is grown by small producers and families who work with hand tools and basic machinery their olive and orange groves, their potato and eggplant fields, and also their grapevines which grow so easily they can be found casually planted along sidewalks where you can help yourself as you go by.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this anecdote about rocks but the picture of the stony Cretan landscape dominates my mind. We stayed in old traditional villages built with rock and in the case of Kritsa, right into the rock of a mountain, slept in homes built of stone, explored these villages walking on stone street by cobblestone street, climbed and wandered through stony canyons, along ancient donkey tracks built of stone, up mountains of rusty rock spread over chunks of brilliant marble, across pebbly beaches and fine ground sand. There was a lot of rock featured in this trip. You could say we rolled through rocks. We rocked and rolled.
Stone speaks to us, if we listen. The next time you’re on a beach, notice how your feet feel in the sand. The next time you put on your makeup, realize the minerals in the makeup come from stone. (Likely the same kind of stone from which Cleopatra got her makeup minerals.) When you are running a cloth over your granite counter top, wonder at which mountain in the world gifted to you that slab of art. Look at the diamonds or other jewels in your wedding ring. Now doesn’t that rock speak to you!
Stone is speaking to us every day because it is the earth itself. Earth gives us an array of gifts in stone that, in the words of Van Morrison, stones me to my soul.
Raki
Raki is Crete’s white lightning. Made from the skins, stems and seeds of wine grapes, every family, village, and taverna seems to have their own supply. Like any other raw distilled liquor it requires fortitude to consume.  
Raki can be flavoured with a variety of herbs such as aniseed, but in Crete they seem to like it straight. It is standard in the tavernas to receive after your meal some complimentary raki as an aperitif. Served  chilled in a small clear glass bottle along with shot glasses and some kind of sweet. The quantity of raki in the bottle is enough for two people to each have at least 5 shots. Rogerio and I left a lot of raki in the bottle.
When you walk around a village on the island, you will frequently see in front of tavernas a scene similar to the photo above –  for decoration small tables are positioned at the entrance to the taverna,  displaying a generous bowl of oranges, and a pretty glass bottle of raki. (The string of beads in this picture are‘worry beads’ which in Greek culture is a secular object used for relaxation. According to Wikipedia, they can also be a status symbol – expensive strings of amber and other valuable stones. (There’s those rocks again.)This might explain the long elaborate string hanging around the neck of a black robed priest I saw in a delegation of VIP’s accompanying the President of Greece to lunch in a taverna in a village we were visiting. The President was there to commemorate a WW II hero and it seemed every man in the village who owned a suit, along with at least half a dozen Greek Orthodox priests were in attendance. The one I studied the most manipulated his beads at the same slow and deliberate pace at which he walked, separating himself, I noted, somewhat from the rest of the entourage.  With his head at a slight upward tilt and his lips tightly drawn, he appeared to investigate the scene around him in a way that made me feel he was either making some private calculations in his mind or was a most arrogant man.)
Now that was a rather long digression but it does relate to raki because the priests also drink the stuff. In one village where we ate dinner at the same taverna every night for almost a week, we observed the local priest every evening gathered with a few locals that always sat at the same out of the way table, drinking raki, smoking, and talking. Such is the pervasiveness of raki.
On another evening in another village in which we stayed for a week, we were walking back from dinner when we were offered raki by a family celebrating a birthday. These old traditional villages are made for social connections. Like a rabbit warren, the homes are all part of one structure, and the doors to each home open right onto the narrow cobblestone passageways through which everyone travels on foot. To sit outdoors, people tuck into chairs set along the walls of the buildings, or gather in a lovely intimate corner or cubbyhole under a giant fig or cyprus tree. Even the most unsociable, solitary soul would have a hard time not saying ‘yassas’ when passing by, and once you greet someone, they always greet you back and if a party is going on, offer you raki and invite you to join them.
So where am I going with this anecdote?
Well, we’ve all heard of the Mediterranean diet. Lots of vegetables, fruits, legumes, whole grains, nuts and seeds and olive oil, and moderate quantities of meat and dairy. For years we have been reading about the health benefits of this kind of diet, which is definitely enjoyed by the people of Crete. But nothing is ever said about the raki!
I have a theory about this. I believe the ever present raki is not there to be consumed in great quantities on a regular basis, (although this certainly happens according to one village woman who, after a long day of work in a bakery, was minding the family store because her husband was at the taverna drinking raki instead of doing his job. Again.) I think the raki is there to make regularly available the opportunity for social connection. Alcohol is a social lubricant. Raki is very strong alcohol, it doesn’t take much to feel warm and cozy sitting on a stone bench next to people you’ve just met.
Many people we met in Crete that are eating the traditional Mediterranean diet not only eat well, but live well, by which I mean, they are socially connected. The physical layout of these villages are designed for close connection. They are also designed for walking. Cretan villagers walk everywhere, and exercise is the third pillar of the triangle of good living – diet, exercise, and social connections.
I know this is very idyllic and as my son-in-law recently pointed out, these same countries that support this lifestyle are also struggling with severe economic problems. However, that observation can say as much about their leadership, and the western economic model their leaders have tried to participate in, as it can about the country’s economics.
In any case, I don’t think I could give up a cold craft brew for a cold shot of raki. But I’m grateful to those Canadians with a Mediterranean heritage who introduced us to olive oil, and eggplant baked with tomatoes, zucchini and potatoes topped with soft creamy cheese, and Greek yogourt topped with honey, and greens sautéed with garlic, and…..oh, that’s right, I said this blog was not going to be about food.
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gurukula-blog · 7 years
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Chapter Five: The Sign
[Check my profile for previous chapters or visit www.adevinecomedy.com]
We went without any word at all for six months. Summer became winter for many people, but since we lived in LA, very little changed, except I needed a light coat at night. Los Angeles is the land of perpetual summer.
Mari found a boyfriend who came sniffing around a lot. His name was Andrew, and I remember liking him. He bought groceries and cleaned up our apartment. Azul the cat found him to be particularly useful for getting extra meals between feedings.
My “job” was going well, and I had gotten a raise. I remember we were all becoming brands in those days. I was a brand; Mari was a brand; Andrew was a brand; even Azul was a brand. It was the time of brand-building, and I was no slouch. A lot of those brands took off under my guidance, and I was able to recoup any money I had lost in the false ashram.
We were doing ‘well,’ or at least it would have appeared so to any outside observers. Really, it was a shadow of a life, like a dream where you go to work and come home, and nothing good happens and nothing bad. It wasn’t meaningful and it wasn’t real.
I was so bored with the whole thing that I was about to run away to Mexico to buy a roadside fruit stand when I heard an ad on the radio.
“Do you need a sign?” a voice asked.
“Yes, yes, I do. I pleaded.” I was just driving back from hot yoga class, and so was still a bit rank and sweaty when the voice spoke.
I moved my arm to turn the radio up when the car behind me started honking. “Move it, lady!” the driver screamed.
“Can you wait a minute?”
“The light’s green!”
“Up your’s guy! I’m fucking talking to God here!” I gave him the middle finger, and he peeled off and drove around me. “Jackass. I fucking hate people sometimes.”
By the time the commotion was all over, the voice was gone. I rushed home to Mari, stopping at no more lights, neither green nor red.
“Mari!” I shouted as I came through the door.
She was on the loveseat with Andrew.
“Mari, the sign is coming soon!”
She turned to her new beau. “You should go. Sage and I have to discuss some very important things.”
“Ok,” he said. “I’ll call you in the morning.” He grabbed his coat and walked out the door.
“You got a message from Swami Kurt?” she asked.
“No, but I got a message from the universe, and it said that the sign would be coming at some point.”
“When?”
“At some point.”
“Yea, that’s what Swami Kurt said too. Did the universe give a time frame? Like this week maybe?”
“No, just kind of reiterated what we knew. You know, to keep an eye out.”
“Hmmmm,” she said. “I think I got that sign today.”
I gasped. “I knew it!”
She reached for her phone. “Yes, it was an email for this yoga retreat at the foot of Mount Everest, very exclusive.”
“Really?”
She showed me pictures of a luxury Zen resort.
“Ok,” I said. “You think that’s where he’s going to be?”
“Yes, it has four saunas, very reasonable prices.”
Actually, the resort was pricey, but money isn’t real, so I didn’t argue with her about the affordability of the retreat.
I thought hard about her point. “He’s going to be a baby though,” I finally said.
“A what?”
“Like a baby. The baby would go to the resort? Isn’t a sauna is like a hot car? Aren’t you not supposed to put babies in hot cars? I guess I just don’t see it.”
“What if he’s mature for his age? He could be in a DJ’s entourage already. I think we should check it out.”
“I don’t know.”
“It really spoke to me.”
“I just don’t know if Swami Kurt would want to be reborn around a bunch of rich people again. Two lives back-to-back as a well-to-do playboy—what’s he going to learn?”
“You know all the best gurus start as well-to-do playboys.”
“True, but it doesn’t feel right.”
The doorbell to our apartment rang, and Mari went to answer it.
Sophia, our neighbor, a blonde college-aged girl in a blue t-shirt with white lettering stood on the other side. She thrust a paper into Mari’s hand.
“Hi, neighbor. Today, I’m representing ‘Help the Children,’ a charity which supports impoverished children in Africa. Would you be interested in sponsoring Joseph, a young boy from—“
Mari abruptly cut her off. “I’m sorry. We believe in Karmic Law. If Joseph is poor, it’s his own fault.” With that, she closed the door on the girl’s face, and threw the paper into the trash. “Bunch of damn beggars, like watch a documentary on Kabbalah, bitch. Get your head right. Who even lets them in the building?”
“She’s lived next door for at least six months now.”
“Yea, anyway, I think our guru is at this luxury resort, and I think he’s got a lot more to teach us about humanity.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. I rushed to the trash and took out the paper that misguided Sophia had forced on Mari. “It says Joseph comes from a big family. He’s got four younger brothers and sisters, and look, his mother is pregnant again. She’s due in a few weeks!”
“I can only imagine the bad karma all those kids built up to be born into such poverty. They don’t need money; they need to meditate. They must have been so selfish in their past lives!”
“No, Mari. She’s pregnant with Swami Kurt. This is the sign!”
Mari took the pamphlet and opened it up to the section about James’ village. “This place is really gross,” she said. “It’s like all dry and they don’t even have a hospital. Their well is all crappy and broken. I mean, look at this shitty school house. It’s made of cow poop!”
“We have to go there!”
“Yea?”
“Yes, this is the sign! It came right to the door. And so what if the whole place is made of cow poop? Mushrooms grow on cow poop! That’s why the cow is holy.”
“So it’s like a village of psilocybin mushrooms?”
“Maybe.”
“Can we leave tomorrow?”
“Oh no. I forgot about Andrew,” I said.
“Me too,” Mari answered. “It’s fine. I’ll break up with him.”
“You don’t have to do that. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“No, I was going to anyway.”
“Why?”
“He’s weird. Did you see him dance at the club the other night?”
I started laughing. I had seen him, and he was doing a strange little drunken shoulder shimmy thing. He looked like someone had put him in a straightjacket, and he was struggling to find a way out.
“Like this.” Mari started mimicking it. “What was this?”
I was laughing so hard that she nearly had me in tears. “Eww, I can’t believe you fucked him!”
Mari kept mocking his dance. “I’m coming to get you, Sage.”
We both cackled hysterically.
“Are you going to call him now?” I asked.
“No, I’ll just block his number. He’ll figure it out eventually.”
“No, we need him to watch Azul while we’re away.”
“Right! I won’t break up with him until we get back.”
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