#besides the lack of intelligence sense and a willingness to let others live

[elegantkittycat]

i'm watching never let me go and i actually like it and i just checked it on mdl and no one likes it in the comments? and i wonder

i mean, nevermind, to each their own but like, i saw some ppl bringing up palm, and i dunno, guess him not being all teary-eyed over his mother's death and such and i'm like. that's trauma for you. it has like, a million faces. and what, he's known that woman for a month or so? i'm not saying that to sound heartless, but it's a complicated relationship. she's never been there for him, and this time is not by choice either. of course she grew to like him, love him even, but that's a product of circumstance rather than intent, too. she would've been perfectly fine living all of her life without his son. and said son knows that. how painful that must be? it's complicated and i think it was carefully written and well-executed. Palm practically mourns a barely stranger. from his heart and from duty at the same time. a concept and a friend more, than a mother.

anyway,

the day my dad died, and after i was told through the phone i wrote a badass assignment in constitutional law. the best i ever did. i loved him dearly, don't misunderstand. his death destroyed my life and ruined practically everything in it. but you know, even after one year of it happening i don't think i had a grasp on reality much. i may even have joked some. trauma is weird as hell and Palm's reactions, his clinical attitude, his fits of depression and rage and then denial and his clinging to Nueng above anything else all rings relatable to me from my own traumas. but maybe i'm just a shitty human, who knows.

[and really this is just a side-note but Palm seems to be a guy who makes peace with bad facts of life and hardships thrown at him in a minute. he seems to accept the inevitability of suffering, of death, of lows and highs pretty easily and without much fanfare. i got a vibe from his character that he's like a deep, peaceful lake amidst the mountains. just there, calmly existing with everything. sure, when things ripple him badly he's ready to drown the offenders but it's not very personal. except in the case of Nueng.]

another one people seem to go on about, that Palm is a shitty bodyguard. i mean, yeah, really?? the whole point of the series is that he isn't a fucking bodyguard, he's just a boy who was dragged into this and fell in love, unfortunately. XD or is it just me who thinks that? i mean they point it out multiple times but idk. his dad was quite effective i think, for those what, seventeen years he protected Pipop but Palm is just a fisherboy. it is repeated like mantra throughout the show. in school they gossip about him being the son of the bodyguard forced to be around Nueng. which he technically is. Mrs. Tanya is using them both. Uncle Non's subservience and his willing sacrifices and his offering of a son Nueng's age. it's not a malicious abuse of power - it's subtle and seems justified and we're all so brainwashed alongside Uncle Non that we collectively forgot that that's a bad thing – wealthy people using us to their pleasure and convenience.... this show makes very strong points, (it seems way too subtly) imo.... and there's this strong implication in the first ep too, that Palm mostly grew up alone. he learned hard shit but his father was busy being an actual bodyguard in Bangkok, and he couldn't exactly teach his son that at the same time in some faraway village he grew up in... he must've been an absent father. of course Palm's terrible, it's a wonder he grew up to be this respectful and decent at all XD

also i'm not saying that Phuwin's and Pond's acting is the best I've seen but I don't know, tastes really do seem to differ cause i'm so uncomfortable with Chimon's acting (or presence, it's unclear at this point) omg. everyone has the hots for him and i'm just sitting here deeply uncomfortable. that's just a personal thing i guess but when i looked at his character first in this series (i never watched anything with him in it before) i thought he was fishy. and i just can't seem to shake that off. at first i thought it was the character but as it turned out he's a good guy. XD he gives me the creeps tho. idk, sorry man, i'm sure you're nice. maybe too nice. i can't believe a word he says. i'm so sorry.

oh but Perth is flawless. his is an outstanding performance and i'd love to see more of that but man if they really gonna have a series with Chimon i have to man up...

oh, and the Chopper's dad issue is a funny one too XD like, "the villain is so simple and his motivation is just money and he only talks and could've killed his sister-in-law a thousand times" etc...... i thought that was the whole point? like i seem to misunderstand everything here, but i truly genuinely thought that the villain being simple, kinda dumb and well, villain-y in a bad sorta way is intentionally disillusioned? that's why we know it's him from the get-go?! this is not supposed to be a mystery genius, this is to make us feel terrible and uncomfortable and uneasy, because that's the healthy real-life reaction to fucking criminals!? who murder their own family, no less. (i can't believe i'm saying this, being the biggest dark lord apologist in history but come on, this is not that type of fiction T_T ) he's like that because criminals are that simple sometimes?? they are big mouthed bullies sometimes? there is a reason he wasn't high up in the hierarchy and his brother looked down on him and never allowed him to manage big things?? because he's unstable, he's all talk, he's hateful, pitiful and a little dumb?? and that's a villain for you? also you wouldn't believe the LENGTHS simple people are willing to go for money... money is never an unworthy motivation, it's one of the single most important ones for criminals, business owners, bankers, bakers, kids, adults, actors and actresses', doctors, writers, your fave youtubers, moms, dads, uncles, mob bosess... you get the picture. duh.

(for me Uncle Kit's character was actually nice after the endless romanticization of criminals ~ i'm not looking at you kinn/porsche, i love you {kinda} but I'M SIDE-EYEING YOU. WTF WAS THAT AND WHY??!? SO FUCKING SICK AND TWISTED AND SORRY GIRLS but criminals are not all sweaty-sexy misunderstood and miseducated and mentally whacky and forced by their daddies but still somehow genius Vegas'?????? whatever the plural of this name is, i'm making grammar up as i go, sorry, rant over, i love you Vegas BUT WTF ~ )

all in all, i'm vibing to something entirely different than the rest. as per usual, i guess.

i especially loved Palm's mother and the difficult to swallow life lessons packed up in there. motherhood, self-love, selfishness, children, responsibilities, desires, duty, suffocation in a loving relationship, personal freedom... that was a good one. never seen that before in a thai bl either. you either have the devoted parent or the angry not so agreeable but ultimately i-love-you-and-i'm-here-for-you parent. but an absent parent by choice....... i felt like she was brilliant.

and i love Nueng's mother too. the very little we've seen of her is amazing. strong, no-nonsense but with a heart. devoted to her family, ready to kill for them but ultimately she's the one who gets almost killed. she seems the complete opposite of Palm's mother but not at the same time and i'm here for it, okay? i'm in love with that.

also i gotta admit that i haven't watched ep.11 yet but i just cracked up a little and this rant felt good to let out. sorry not sorry

and i would like to emphasize it: this post does not have an agenda to convince you to love a series that you don't enjoy or anything. we are all allowed to feel differently about everything under the sun (and above it and beyond). this is just my singular experience with a piece of media, wich provoked strong feelings and made me think about many aspects of humanity.

#i'm living for controversial opninions #in an era where debate is not even there anymore #all we have is cancel-culture #whatever the hell that means #besides the lack of intelligence sense and a willingness to let others live #it's a glorified word for cyber-bullying #isn't it #never let me go #never let me go the series #pond phuwin #i'm enjoying this #but the comments on mdl made me feel bad about that #so i had to reassure myself in a rant #hardly anyone would see #and now i actually do feel better #that's all that matters #thai bl #thai drama #thai series #i'm in way too deep

[blueoatmeal]

what do they eat????

the surface culture in KATAOW is Very Strange, and part of that strangeness is what people eat

when there was only one sapient species on the planet, humans, it was easy to draw the line between what was morally okay to eat and what wasn’t. broadly speaking, anyway. Don’t eat other humans; why? because they’re sapient. they’re people. just about everything else is fair game. humans will eat anything

not very complicated. and generally when humans thought about hypothetical other sapient species, whether they be mutants or aliens or whatever, they usually came to a similar conclusion: despite being a different species, the other sapients are still sapient, still people, and so would be off-limits, if they did exist. the What Measure is a Non Human trope does start to come into play here, because it is easier to question a being’s sapience if they are different from humans. But generally speaking, to humans, sapient = not a menu item

Here’s where things get complicated.

In KATAOW, humans are no longer the only sapient species on the planet. Far from it, in fact. I can name about thirteen just off the top of my head.

Now, if they were aliens, they’d have come from their own entirely separate ecosystem. Usually in media there is an unspoken “one sapient species per origin planet” rule. This rule is rarely broken. this wouldn’t be a problem, as long as all the sapient species agreed to not eat any other sapients. The more there are, the less likely this is to happen, but it’s not too much of a stretch to imagine, as humans usually do, that assuming the alien sapients have their own supporting ecosystems already, they could all agree not to eat each other, as a moral compromise if nothing else; a truce of sorts, a show of respect

Well. the new sapient species in KATAOW are not aliens. 

They mutated, or evolved, from existing species in Earth’s ecosystem. In many cases (but not all) they seem to have entirely replaced their ancestors. For example, the Timbercats are the only example of modern ex-domesticated felines. There are no little kitties that can fit in a shoebox. None. None that we’ve seen, and Benson implies there aren’t any.

With birds, however, it’s different. We see examples of wild bird mutes (Beakbeak), and sapient bird mutes (Hummingbird Bombers). Is this distinction based on individual species? I don’t know.

In an inversion of the cat situation, the bunnies, or rather, megabunnies we see, are the only bunnies we see. But is it possible that there is now also a branched-off separate sapient species of bunny that we just haven’t met? I don’t know.

What causes some creatures to develop sentience, and others not to? They all seem to have changed in some way, but only some are intelligent now. Why? I don’t know. Humans seem to have, generally, been exempt from the mass mutation event. As we learn more about the world, this information may change, but this is what we know now.

Regardless, the fact remains that the creatures, the fauna of the world changed drastically, and with that change their needs changed too. Many plants and I would have to assume fungi and bacteria, archea, viruses, etc. have thankfully ALSO changed drastically. Is the ecosystem balanced, then, after such a drastic disruption? I’m not sure. The mutated life survived for 200 years though, so the environment coped well enough not to just kill everything, at least.

But still, food. Balanced or not, stuff definitely changed.

Let’s get the humans out of the way because they’re simpler:

Something happened to drive the humans underground, leaving a lot of food behind. They stay down there, so obviously they found ways to grow and hunt food down underground. If we can do it on Mars, a burrow is no problem. Humans were already eating whatever they wanted, so not much changed. And unless a lot has changed over 200 years, humans would still be averse to eating other sapient species. That’s been our history.

There are a few humans on the surface. Wolf implies that she won’t eat a mute if it’s sapient, when she first catches Mandu. Wolf and Benson seem to live off of old abandoned human food and non-sapient mutes. This works fine because there’s only a few surface humans; otherwise the supply of abandoned food would quickly run dry.

And that’s it for humans. 

Non-sapient mutes will eat whatever, regardless of sapience. Beakbeak doesn’t care that his prey is intelligent. He’s an animal in the traditional sense of the word. Wild animals continue to be wild animals, just like before the mutation. Nothing new there.

But the sapient mutes? The sapient mutes are weird.

Just so we’re on the same page, here are a few sapient mutes we know:

The Mod Frogs, the Newton Wolves, the Hummingbird Bombers, the raccoons, the Dubstep Bees, the Scooter Skunks, the rats, some elephants, that waterbear/tardigrade guy, our insect bud Dave, the Snäkes, the Timbercats, Scarlemagne and his assorted primate gang, and those rodent ppl in Umlaut Valley--prairie dogs? Punk Prairie Dogs? Etc.

Quick note, there are a few that are questionable mostly for lack of information (Mandu, dragonflies, flies) and I’ll touch on them later. For now we’re working with indisputably fully-sapient mutes.

So.

Obviously their diets changed from their wild ancestors’, but I think we can assume that generally, their broad dietary range didn’t change. Strict herbivores are still built to handle plants only. There’s no reason their digestive systems and various feeding adaptations would have changed that drastically.

Herbivores? Probably mostly still herbivores. The Dubstep Bees seem to still rely on plant products, and don’t care for meat. Elephants are also obligate herbivores, and we see some with, what, some popcorn and cotton candy? That tracks.

For the sake of simplicity, I’ll be glossing over the fact that most carnivores I know do occasionally eat a bit of plant and can thus be considered technical omnivores. That’s not relevant right now. There are plenty of plants and none of the plants are intelligent, so there isn’t an issue.

Omnivores need a bit of both. Raccoons, rats, and skunks are our best examples. They have plants, so that’s fine. There seems to be enough variety of non-sapient mute prey for them too. These mutes are urban too, so just as their ancestors did, they supplement their diets with human food. There is no need for them to eat sapient mutes, and as far as I can tell, they don’t. I’m pretty sure most primates fall under this category too. Insects vary, but Dave seems to be an omnivore. Wikipedia tells me tardigrades go here as well.

There are some animals that are generally herbivores but occasionally eat meat, like Hummingbirds, but again, there seems to be plenty to go around, and no reason for those few meaty meals to be sapient mutes.

Carnivores. Yeah. I’ve been waiting the whole essay to write this part. Who’s left? The Mod Frogs, the Newton Wolves, the Snäkes, and the Timbercats. If they can’t eat meat on the regular, they just can’t survive.

The Newton Wolves, Timbercats, and  Snäkes express their willingness to eat humans. The Snäkes also are implied to be regularly eating sapient prairie dogs. The Newton Wolves are known to hunt and eat Mod Frogs and humans. These are all hard facts.

Little bit more speculative here: The Timbercats, like irl cats, would probably be more keen on eating Snäkes if they weren’t so venomous. I don’t think they’d be opposed to it though. The Snäkes are large enough that wolf could potentially be a menu option. Wolves have historically been known to eat cats and snakes, so their sapient counterparts are probably fair game too. I don’t think the cats would want to eat wolves, though that thought is based largely on size and the fact that irl domestic cats don’t hunt irl wolves. Could they? Sure. I just don’t think they’d go for it when there are other options. Likewise, various omnivores would be considered prey to various carnivores, with practical and historical considerations determining their exact place on the food chain. Snakes and cats regularly eat frogs irl, so that’s that on that.

You may have sussed out my main driving question by now, but before I get to that, let’s take a little detour: humans as prey

No animal specifically hunts humans in the wild. We are not the prime prey animal of any species. Well, besides some bacteria, and a few parasites, but until we see a sapient bacteria or tapeworm, that’s not relevant. But these new mutated species, much larger and more intelligent than their ancestors, seem to see humans as just another prey option. And rightfully so! We are bald primates, just clever little mammals. Heck, even the rats are bigger than us now! If a mute would eat a rat, how different would human be? Different shape, but otherwise? Not much! I’m just saying I get it. Humans have been established as equal to other sapient mutes, and susceptible to the organization of the food chain in a way we’ve never been before. We’re not special anymore. We’re not even in power! We’re in hiding!

Now I don’t know, but I have to imagine that the reason several sapient mutes are okay with eating other sapient mutes is twofold: history and demand. 

All these animals were, before mutation, accustomed to eating beings on a similar intelligence level. That was their normal. So when a few of them mutate and gain sentience, what reason should they have to stop what they’ve been doing for all of history? Inter-species communication isn’t new, just easier.

And demand? Demand is more speculative. All of the mutes are much larger than their animal ancestors. So they need more food. If their main food source grew as well, and wasn’t sapient, there’s no issue... until you keep going down the food chain and run out of what they eat, and so on... But anyway, that could be alright. No moral issue, certainly. If their main food source stayed small (intelligent or not tbh), there’s going to be a food shortage for the predator.

This is all VERY simplified, btw, ecology is complex as hell and I could spend years mapping out all the causes and effects here

Back to the point: if there’s a food shortage, you either find a solution or die. Predators are probably gonna want to hunt prey of an appropriate size. So they either find different prey, change their preferences, adapt as many animals have had to do for ages. Difficult sometimes, and a hassle, but doable. OR... if their prey did grow, but also gained sapience? Screw the morals, which are historically more human-based anyway, and eat them. For both prey and predator, it’s not very different from what they’re used to. It’s not new.

Alright. That all makes sense to me. So what’s the problem? What’s that big question? I’ll tell you what’s been bugging me:

What the fuck are the Mod Frogs eating!?

“Well Blue,” you might say, “Just big insects and stuff, right? There are dragonflies and flies in the show. Why should the frogs be any different from the other predators in the show?”

They shouldn’t be any different, by the logic of this whole essay, but they are.

All the other animals, I’ve been able to find reasonable food sources for. But then the frogs subvert the whole thing by having dragonflies and flies working for them. The two most obvious and recognizable prey animals for frogs. So, are they in some kind of weird servant-prey Stockholm syndrome relationship?

Okay, possibly. I don’t have any data to disprove that. But it doesn’t fit with the rest of the kataow vibe and also I don’t like it. Like, the predator and prey stuff I can understand, but that is a special kind of fucked up, sapient or otherwise.

So if not that, then that’s gotta mean the frogs aren’t eating them, right? Okay, that makes some sense, I mean, they use the dragonflies for transportation and the flies are?? Also transportation????? Or assistants??? Its unclear. How that arrangement came about, I don’t know. 

Are the flies and dragonflies sapient? I’m not certain. The flies wear suits, so that’s a point for Probably Sapient. The dragonflies are largely treated as non-sapient but intelligent animals, like a domesticated horse. So maybe they’re like Mandu? Only they can speak. Dave knows and speaks their language. You don’t say “oh I speak a little Horse, lemme talk to them.” That’s not a thing. So the dragonflies for now are Probably Sapient, But It’s Complicated

Alright, alright, enough of that nonsense, there are plenty of bugs! Large ones too! And small mammals, irl frogs will eat those too! If they can get it in their mouth and it’s an animal, an irl frog will be willing to try and eat it. There’s no problem! What’s the point of this! They just eat big bugs! Just not flies because they’re sapient and--

Ah. Aha. No; see, that’s just it. Because they’re sapient. But hang on, didn’t I just say I wasn’t sure about the flies’ sapience? Yeah, I did, and I also said they probably are sapient, and even if they’re not, I have more.

ALL of the obligate carnivores in kataow reacted to Kipo’s gang in the same way; “Oh, that’s food.” And then only later, even if just a minute later, and usually reluctantly, “But maybe friends instead?” All the obligate carnivores EXCEPT for the Mod Frogs.

“That’s because humans are too big and--” Bullshit. Humans are the perfect size for mute frog prey. Sorry, that’s just a fact. And not only that, but they treat Dave and Mandu the same as the humans. Why? Why? Dave is a freaking insect!!! And the perfect size!!! And Mandu would be a great snack! Wolf almost ate Mandu, and she’s got a strict “if it talks it’s not food” policy.

Alright so I don’t have an explanation for Mandu besides “their sapience is uncertain and maybe that’s enough.” Maybe they’re too focused on the humans? I don’t know.

But Dave?????? When they captured him with Benson in the beginning, why didn’t they at least threaten to eat him??? Huh?? My proposal: because he’s sapient.

...So ...what?

So, if we go with this logic, the Mod Frogs are the only carnivores who care AT ALL about sapience of their prey. The omnivores and herbivores have the privilege of way more options, so they don’t get an opinion.

Why do the Frogs care? Why? And why is it just them?

This is where I run out of answers.

And yeah, there are probably other sufficiently-sized non-sapient prey animals for the frogs. There was a big spider and that’s probably enough proof for that point. They’re fine. They have stuff to eat.

But that doesn’t take away the fact that while they seem to choose not to eat sapient animals, none of the other carnivores do. 

Why.

Is.

That?

Jamack caught a Dubstep Bee in his mouth and what did he do?? He spit it out! Why would he do that if sapience wasn’t a factor? Why?

Seriously though if you have answers PLEASE share them with me, I am absolutely bewildered

#kataow #jamack #mod frogs #newton wolves #umlaut snakes #timbercats #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #kipo #dave kataow #analysis #biology #food chain #hunting #essay #meta #I got carried away....

[achromatic-morality]

( sydney ashborne ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he ) is a ( 2000 / appears 28 ) year old ( fallen angel ) who resembles ( francisco lachowski ). ( he ) has been said to be ( adaptive & patient ) but also quite ( scrutinizing & unpredictable ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( he ) has chosen to align with ( the fallen angels ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( a member of the inner circle of fallen ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

Name: sydney ashborne Race: fallen angel Alignment: fallen angels Role: inner circle of fallen angels Age: 2000+ / 28 years Gender: male Sexuality: homosexual

[History]

Before the Fall

Being one of the first, those among the angelic named by God for themselves, the archangel Sandalphon, he carried the burden of tending to the unborn without wavering. For a long while he was happy, devoted in his love of both the creator and the tiny flickers of new life he watched over. But, being one of the most gentle mannered and sharp-minded of the angelic he was tasked with a short lifetime on earth as a prophet when God needed certain things to come to pass. He was equally resolved to that task but when he returned he carried with him new emotions, new lessons learned from mortals; and the most puzzling of them all was doubt.

He watched, time and again, while God tested and toyed with their creations to the point of destruction. It was not the efforts of a loving creator guiding, it was the cruel hand that pushed and pushed until they broke, growing only increasingly more distant.

He felt the pain watching more and more as the sparks of life held in his care were burned out short, tiny souls never allowed to take their first breath or open their eyes through circumstance or, worse still, willful intention. It was a loss he felt, one by one, so pointless and cold. What was the use in granting life a chance to flourish only to have it stolen before it even began?

In the After

When he took the step, let himself fall, it was not an act of rebellion. Sydney had no reason left to rebel, he simply wanted to hold the choices ahead of him in his own hands. He long ago lost confidence in the idea of good and evil as anything but circumstance and necessity in the moment; all the world was shades of grey that he finally could speak out loud without fear of knowing what he would lose for his certainty.

Letting go of his old purpose entirely, leaving behind his title and the name granted him, Sydney rebuilt from the ashes of the grey that stained his once ivory wings. But a part of him was created for certain things, even with emotions and self finally closer to human than only the distance chill of his archangel brethren he still could not fully turn away from those around him. He wanted peace, silence, time to reflect after his centuries of unknown confusion, only to find himself handed a new role within the inner circle of the fallen angels.

His age was their benefit, his place so close to God and named by them, his power a rare advantage; but it wasn't any of those that convinced Sydney to take the offer. He simply looked around him at the scattered, disjointed lot that made up the fallen and decided that, much like the children he had always deeply loved and watched grow from before birth, they needed him. He couldn't abandon them.

The World is a Twisting Path

Sydney had become a looming presence, an ancient power that the angelic were wary of and the fallen fell to respecting for the most part. The world offered him escape, comfortable distraction and a new direction. He cares nothing for good or evil, neither for the divides in the races nor for the wars threatening to bubble up. If he must fight he will, viciously if need be, but until that point he acts as voice of reason to his less stable fallen counterparts and stands between them and their own destruction. He holds mutual regard for anyone really, friendly enough, bemused by the oddities of those around him. He intends to enjoy his freedom, damned or not, because people are simply people no matter what form they wear and he knows the true enemy is the God who abandoned them all a very long time when they grew bored with their toys.

[Basic info]

In spite of the deeper sorrow he feels Sydney is easy-going to a fault on the surface much of the time, more level-headed than most. His emotions scatter wildly but he doesn’t often let that get the best of him. Not unless someone hits a nerve, usually said nerves involving people he cares about or kids or baby animals. He’s also friendly, in a lazy sort of way, pleasant all and all for one of those with tainted blood in their veins. He has his limits, of course, but he’s one of the lesser of supposed evils when it comes to being fallen; he doesn’t want a war unless he can have one with God themselves for what they’ve done to the world in their playing games with life.

Sydney mourns for the lives that never are allowed to be, even now. He does his mourning in private and well away from the other fallen, but he still feels the spark of life end in the unborn and it deeply wounds him. Some part of him considers these lost souls connected to him, a memory only he knows as what they might have been. In his days as an archangel he was always there beside grieving mothers who never saw their hopes take a first breath. For every birth cry that was never heard Sydney was there to shed his own sorrow and hold the fragile soul that slipped away. As one of the fallen he feels this pain even more strongly and is intensely watchful of those he can sense life growing within. For those who destroy such things with cold indifference he has, privately, become something of a demon, a nightmare, no longer holding back in exacting revenge for those who were never granted a way to defend themselves. 

When he first fell Sydney threw himself into traveling, he moved from place to place with a wanderlust he’d never known before. There were things in the world he found amazing and to be part of the human experience actually brought him some comfort. He wandered the world for a few decades before finding the state of the other fallen and settling in Amsterdam with the role he took up for their sake but even now he longs for what felt like real freedom; to roam without purpose weighing him down.

Envy is something of a vice for Sydney, because he does indeed envy mortals and their freedom of choice. He was created a certain way, to be a certain thing, and his path was set before him with expectations that he would never question. When he did it came with the cost of some of what he was. For mortals to be born with a clean slate and possibilities of their own design he has always felt a little slighted. He makes his own choices now but even then it’s at a cost, knowing he won’t feel the sort of peace he once knew now that he’s damned himself for the chance at deciding his own fate.

Children are another thing mortals have the capacity for that he greatly envies. He would be perfectly happy having a family, he was after all created with a deep affection for the unborn and he adores children. But as an angel he knows it’s not likely, and being gay makes that an even more complicated matter. Compounded with the sheer danger he exists within as part of the inner circle of the fallen angels he can’t imagine that want is ever going to be fulfilled.

Of course family overall is a sore spot. His twin sibling Metatron has been lost to him for a very long time. He neither knows if they can hear any of his prayers or even they even want to, or if the fall has put a wall between them that can never be torn down. He deeply misses the bond they used to have, but it seems to be something else lost to time.

He compensates somewhat for the things he can’t have by trying to look after those around him. His fallen ‘siblings’ of course, but it makes no real difference to Sydney what race anyone is if they’re in a dire situation. He views angels as his still distant ‘cousins’, much to the irritation of many of the fallen, and humans and werewolves not exactly as equals but still not anything to loathe simply for being different. He actually finds them fascinating and admirable in their determination and ability to survive. His basic nature is that of a caregiver, that tends to extend a bit too far at times.

He was once an archangel though, so he’s not incapable of holding his own, just usually prefers not to fight for the simple sake of it. If necessity he will, but short of that he is sharply intelligent and tries to work his way around problems. His role in past wars was more in making plans and tending to the injured than outright fighting. He certainly can though if need be, and since falling that skill has turned more vicious than it used to be, dangerous in the lack of control he can maintain in the heat of battle. Strategy is what he brings strongest to the table within the circle, that and his willingness to bridge the gaps. He’ll step outside the security of dealing with the fallen to approach angels or any other race if it brings change, quick to volunteer for such things in order to keep some of the bad blood out of the equation with his own passive outlook towards his ‘cousins’ and the mortals.

Given his opinions of God as a whole Sydney is very questioning of those in power, even the ones who lead the fallen. He doesn’t care to stand toe to toe with them if he feels their actions are foolish or reckless, pointing that much out in flat terms. He’s a follower by choice but certainly not because he feels he needs to be in order to stay safe.’

 [Wanted Connections]

Past connections

Metatron // Open // Angel or Fallen Angel

Sydney hasn't seen his twin sibling since breaking away from heaven a good century ago. While he has attempted contact now and then it seems unlikely that the angel who serves as the voice of God is going to hear the words of the fallen. He still has no idea where his sibling is and what their opinions of him are now. In the past the two had a warm, if not typical sibling teasing relationship at times, but Metatron being the busier of the two there was some distance between them. Open to pretty much anything with this one.

Other angels // Open // Angels or Fallen Angels

Since he was one of the first created after Adam and Eve discovered how to create life, and thus God needed someone to look after the unborn until they were to join their earthly parents, he has ties to other angels. An archangel himself, but one of the 'lesser' ones, he still held some command over others. It was never really a point he practiced though, always a bit curious and quiet by nature. Now though, as one of the fallen, his old ties might be new enemies, or old friends cautious about the dangers of that friendship.

Almost soulmate // Open // Angel or Fallen Angel

Sydney had one once, he thought, but his ideals ran too wild and said person stepped back. Given that he existed to look after the unborn it was only natural that in time and watching how the humans existed he came to the conclusion that he wanted such things as well. For an angel though that was impossible, a point of strain between himself and the one he thought was meant for him and, eventually, part of the reason they distanced from each other. Now fallen, Sydney has all but let the memories fade. It was never meant to be, he was mistaken, but the pain still lingers somewhere and maybe the best he can do is salvage a friendship with them.

Antagonist // Open // Angel or Fallen Angel

While he had a habit of keeping to himself and watching the human world, there was one who Sydney is certain took some sort of pleasure in riling him up. Constantly annoying him about his shortcomings as an Archangel who didn't step up to fight, more or less just making his life frustrating. Ironically though the tension between them is what taught Sydney that he could rebel in the end, pushed too far, he lashed out and discovered that he was not simply a follower to the will of God. This person pushed him to that first step that would lead to his fall and at the time the two were constantly at odds but now Sydney has realized he might owe them for that. It still doesn't mean they get along though, not yet anyway.

Current Connections

'Siblings' // Open // Fallen Angel

While Sydney keeps an eye on most of his fallen 'siblings', this one has earned a soft spot with him. For whatever reason he's taken to looking after them, trying to steer them in the right direction and more often than not getting himself into trouble because of them. But it's not such a bad thing, they're helping him step more and more into the sort of freedom he's always wanted, letting go of things and enjoying the world. So it's a mutual benefit really, that chaos. Helping him shake off his reservations and really enjoy life now and he needs that more than he realizes. Unfortunately they’re also stirring up a bit of impulsive nature he didn’t know he had but maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Mortal Counterpart // Open // Human or Werewolf

Sydney finds humans and their sort fascinating, mortals in general really. This one is an oddity and he enjoys their company for all the strange notions they bring with them. It's a bit eye-opening what he's discovered along the way from them and ultimately there's a hint of fear behind it knowing how fragile and short-lived mortals are. The pain of losing that friendship one day has him acting somewhat as looming protector to them, true, but he really can't help it.

Best Friend // Open // Vampire // Taken by Felix

An old friend and off and on lover over the years, Sydney has maintained a comfortable friendship with this person. They met early after his fall and when he realized he liked his company Sydney stuck around. They've had periods of distance because life had gone different ways but still run back across each other. There's something comfortable between them and Sydney considers them to be his best friend and confidant.

Soulmate // Open // Any

After thinking he'd found it in the past and lost it the fact that there is someone who he connects to so entirely is going to be startling for Sydney.  The person that Sydney finds both his opposite and partner in crime, something missing he didn't expect to find at all. 

[Tags] 

dusty like an old photograph // Visual tag  by divine words  // Musings search the ashes // Interactions

#nhqintro #by divine words // sydney #by divine words // intro #child death tw #child abuse tw

[vagabondpainter-blog]

Catching up

It all is so far away now, counted as well in days as in weeks, in kilometers, in miles or in impressions, in encounters and insights, or measured by fruitless attempts to write this blog.

To catch up while still keeping this Text readable, I will shorten things, I will have to be unjust.

The people I met, friends I visited, friends I found, even strangers who gave advice or help before quickly disappearing again along the ever winding road, they all deserved more words of gratitude, the landscapes I've seen, the early morning mists, birdsong, rough hills and gentle streams, they are all worthy of poems, paintings, and some day hopefully I will find the rest to praise them rightly.

And about people, about friends: I will not talk in depth about them here, maybe some of the closest not even talk about at all or just mention briefly. That is because trust and friendship are sacred, I don't want anyone to have to worry about being displayed and evaluated here, or conversations being put on public display. That's why my tale will sound probably egocentric at times. Besides some points I take out of conversations I'm determined to keep this a blog only about the experiences and lessons I came across, to share and hopefully inspire, but leave people their privacy.

So informations about others I'll keep vague and brief except for some relevant points now and then if they are required as context.

For now it's these fragments, learned lessons and impressions:

1] The Kindness Of Strangers

The boat leaves in the late afternoon, yet I'm here already. It wasn't easy to say goodbye to friends. Its the moment when you painfully realize what you leave behind before you find the courage to let things go and to jump into an uncertain future. I'm grateful that there have been friends to be missed, friends waving when I left and many people, places and memories to cherish, so rather say 'Thank you' than 'Good bye'.

Now I'm here, not sure how to store a bicycle on the ferry, what to do and where to go. A fellow cyclist reassures me that everything will be ok and shows how to secure the bicycle before we part and enter the huts.

It is a smooth sailing on calm waters. I take position on the south side and watch, watch how Ijmuiden floats away, see Zandvoort passing in the distance, let memories rise out of the parting waves until much later the last dim reflection of the sun is swallowed by the darkness of the water.

Next morning I watch the sunrise from the front-deck before later slowly the shore of Britain appears on the horizon.

Back in the belly of the ship, bicycle is packed and we wait for permission to get on land. My fellow cyclist is here again and we find out that we worked in the same field, be it in different positions, until lately when I quit my job. Healthcare in general, and psychiatry in particular seems to struggle with the same problems on both sides of the water- lack of resources combined with an abundance of expectations and many self-declared specialists eagerly waiting on the sidelines to tell you how exactly you should do your job. I don't regret my step.

Soon we change the subject, talk about more uplifting things, like freedom, travels, cycling and living life.

I'm glad he offers to accompany me for the first few miles, show me the way and help me get accustomed to cycling on the left side of the road.

While traveling the shore, he realizes that my journey later would take me along the A1, the most dangerous and deadly road of Britain. Plans change and a bit later I find myself in a nice cozy house, greeted by a friendly dog. The family is gathered now, they brought dutch scones and there I am, arrived in Britain, eating dutch bread and being made welcome.. and grateful.

Later they even offer me a lift along the A1 so I can continue my journey quite a few miles north on a safe bicycle path.

Actually- actually I made a promise to myself when I gave up my home- to leave every place I visit a little bit nicer, tidier or kinder then I found it, be it a small bit within my powers only.

Yet here I am, receiving all this kindness and struggling to find a way to give a tiny thing at least.

A small contribution I might be able to make after all- the lady of the house is an artist and I hope to come back and spend some time, exchanging tips and knowledge about painting.

It won't really be able to repay the welcome, they didn't know how much it meant- this first encounter on the new path, a sense of home in the world out there.

2] Of Hunters, Vegans, Spiders, Flies, and Shamans too

For my first working assignment I arrive one or two days late.

The bicycle paths in Britain are made for leisure, not for means of transportation, to get from A to B, you sometimes get sent along the beautiful yet rough and rocky road uphill through E to G.

In the morning my host comes to town to give me a lift uphill so I don't need to climb up to the cottage. We soon find out a difference in lifestyle, that either might lead to conflict or to very interesting talks-

While I myself took up a vow years ago to restrain from eating or even using animal products, he is an outspoken and passionate hunter and skillful hunting guide.

Greeted by a friendly dog and a flock of even friendlier chickens I put up my hammock next to a cottage that has seen many years, some of them hard, now regaining its beauty under its tenants committed work.

Not only the growing vegetables outside provide some common ground to get along, we soon find out, as the Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh once said: “If you wish to be understood, you should listen very carefully”

I put aside any prejudice and get a chance to actually learn- a hunter may just as much care about nature and all life in it as the convinced vegan.. not every hunter of course, some are in it for profit just as some vegans are in it for pride.

Those others, those on both sides who actually do care, more and more appear to me as devoted parents arguing about the best cure for their sick child. Later I will briefly encounter a native American shaman and will have to realize that those revered ancient cultures are hunters too.

And when I rescue a little spider after that the other day, it strikes me, how many other insects I might have sent to certain death by saving this one predator...

In the end it seems that our technological power has by far outgrown our human wisdom and it's estrangement from nature what deceives us to take extreme positions- on one side some are abusing sensible, breathing, childbearing live as if it where an industrial product, which makes us a parasite in the organs of life, while on the other side we might not interfere when necessary and so get complicit in catastrophes out of fear of causing individual harm, which is neglect of our responsibilities as intelligent life form.

Life is sustained by devouring itself in any form. In the complex web of interdependence I will continue to avoid harm, but I also learned to judge less those who are willing to intervene, it's the caring about nature, the respecting of life and the willingness to learn about them, what defines whether our actions are righteous and wise, there is not one answer that fits all circumstances.

3] Anam Cara

The path up north led me through the green hills of a land where all the places sound like echoes of long forgotten songs and ancient tales.

Shelters where ready, arranged by friends of a friend, all without expecting anything in return, just out of kindness, setup in beautiful places, the shore of a river, a comfortable trailer in a wide meadow with view on the distant chain of snowy hills, hosts welcoming the traveler, helping and showing me around, and I had to learn that sometimes all one has to offer in return is humble gratitude.

What a strange and beautiful paradise waits in the hills behind Inverness. Anam Cara is the retreat center I work and paint for here.

Lodges and huts are made of timber, stone, from large barrels and from caravans..

I sometimes get lost on the terrain, nothing here is put in a straight line, everything has grown naturally accordingly to the apparent conditions at the time.

It's a place just like its founders and inhabitants, a marriage of Buddhist Dharma and shamanic teachings, enforcing and helping each other by aiming at the same goal from different angles in perfect eclectic harmony.

4] Of Tunnels and Light

At Scottish Borders it is. We follow the shore along the stream, up in the hills, where a long abandoned railroad left its trail, and a tunnel between the trees.

Here, our kind host and guide tells us, many found an experience of transformation.

On a dark day in his life he decided for the first time to go inside.

With the courage of despair he had entered and faced inside this darkness that other darkness which at the time needed to be released. On the other side of the tunnel the light that welcomed him brought the beginning of the change to the better.

We are glad he 's willing to share the experience and I opt for walking first.

Beforehand it all sounded quite easy, just going inside the darkness alone without light and walking through, blindly, until the eyes capture a dim light from the other side.

Now in front of the big black hole amongst the green I doubt for a moment whether I really want to go in.

Threads of fog, hovering at the entrance, weave a mystical web. A chilly breeze greets me as if it where the breath of the earth.

One of the dogs accompanied me on my first steps towards the huge mouth that will swallow me in a moment, and for some time I have the impression the dog is still with me in the dark. I hear my own footsteps and feel this other presence right behind me. Later I learn the dog left me at the entrance already...

Once the darkness surrounds me completely and I should probably feel lost in the void, a deep calm sense of serene silence comes over me, a trust that whatever happens here, is supposed to be and is just perfect as it is. I wander in the timeless spaciousness, listening to my ever slower footsteps.

There is no hurry, no need anymore to get anywhere. While the feet calmly keep going I suddenly loose all intention to either stay or leave. Everything is just about now and now is exactly, perfectly well as it has to be.

Maybe due to a lack of external input, the sense of self dissolves into the black empty space and only a floating undefined feeling of wideness and joy vibrates on.

The first glimpse of light some time later doesn't seduce me to rush, I could just as well stay here, in this very moment for eternity, yet I keep moving.

Never thought the greens of the trees and the grasses, the gentle mos could look as vibrant and intense as they appear while I leave the tunnel. It rather seems, I'm watching the surroundings steadily passing by, then moving myself.

I enjoy the forest with a joy I haven't known so far- like a child looking at trees and clouds and pebbles for the first time ever. I keep walking and keep looking, perceiving without judgment, without naming, without wanting, only looking, smelling, listening, just sensing the stream of impressions calmly arising and taking course.

And I know that nothing ever will be the same, also know now that nothing ever has been the same before. It's freedom to ride on the stream of ever changing appearances without grasping or rejecting, I heard of that, I knew it, could have said these words any time, yet now the tunnel showed that truth in a way, so that I actually could see it too .

5] What is Home?

Back in the Netherlands, coming home from being home, not sure how and why I would deserve this. It must be a natural human kindness I didn't notice before that strongly. Now when I need it, there are friends to let me stay in their place, people offering shelter without expecting anything. I visit friends, I'm humbled and touched by all generosity, and I suspect I might know now, why in some lineages Buddhist monks are obliged to beg for their food- it's only when you depend on others in a way, that you get a chance to realize that, contrary to what the news might tell, human is in essence a very kind and giving being.

I have, for now, just to practice in gratitude to hopefully some day be able to give back.

6] Cow-dung is not Bullshit

Cycling in Germany is a challenge, most roads are forbidden for cyclists, they send you along long winding tracks and don't care to close a path without alternative.

After days of sweating under threatening thunderclouds, in heat, having my navigation gone with the broken phone, getting lost in unknown places, climbing hills without knowing where I am and how to get on, I arrive, days late again.

Now I work at the Schwäbische Alb, there's a small Village on top of a hill and I live here, take care of the garden and paint the portals, just paint, nothing artsy :) but besides being invited to feel at home and greatly being cared for, its my first real encounter with alternative building and painting materials what makes it extra special to be here.

The paint is the etching, burning, kind of chalk that was used for centuries here, but the main lesson is a little building project inside the large shed, a storage room made from clay and dry cow-dung.

I learn from mistakes and from what went well, getting an idea to – one day, some day, after the journeys – maybe build my own alternative home based on experiences and learning ahead.

7] The naked Truth

One more fragment, one I doubted if it was ok to tell, but decided that it should not matter if people think I'm weird, I'm a fifty years old guy giving up a comfortable stable life to cycle around and work without predictable income, not even a pension-plan. I AM weird probably and as long as no one gets hurt I'm free to be as strange as I choose to be.

It's the evening of a hard and hot day, the sun burned my skin dark red and any sweat from cycling uphill dried quickly without cooling me off. I finally find a great spot to spend the night, near a small town or village, but out in the green, well hidden and comfortable.

Before I rest I need to refill my water-supplies and rehydrate myself, also the new used phone I was lucky to receive, does act up, the batteries run quickly, didn't recharge anymore and I want to give it one more try.

It's good as well, to check the vibes of the area, to know the territory and get familiar with the place.

So instead of getting ready for the night I enter the place for a drink and general recharging in the local pizzeria. I'm the only customer inside. The friendly owner refills the bottles and tries to help me with the phone. After a tough day through the hills in merciless heat I enjoy talking to someone before I get back out into the fields. Yet when I tell about the travels and my new life, he offers me to seek shelter at the small terrace next to the house where the guests sit in daytime. It's right at the fairly busy street, surrounded by houses and I'd like my first shelter more, but there are two good reasons to gratefully except the offer- one, it is an act of kindness and that counts more then comfort, two, I slept in fields and woods, in trailers, tents and under bridges, but never in the open air in the middle of a town.

So I set up my shelter, sleeping bag as isolation and the raintarp as cover on one side tied to the fence, the other attached to the bicycle.

A thin tarp provides the illusion of privacy and I lay down in the noise of passing cars and voices on the street.

Now the overheated body starts boiling and burning, however I move or turn, a layer of inescapable

fire keeps me awake. Everything I wear sticks to the skin. Half asleep and half in fever I guess, I remove it all.

A gentle nightly breeze cools me off and sings me to sleep. While I see the stars through the fence it occurs to me, that whoever would find me here, would think I was drunk or crazy. Laying there amongst all cozy houses, bare and naked, not showered for days, hair and beard growing wildly I have finally become a drifter.

And then the image comes before my minds eye, of me laying there, bare of any sign of social status or role, looking like an abandoned corpse, but there is no shame, no fear, only deep calm peace and freedom.

That takes me back into the tunnel. It's the same sense of serenity, nothing to achieve, nothing to loose, nothing to be done, only being.

I will loose this peace of mind again on several occasions, when the wind stands against me, when I loose direction, when I set up goals, but there are more and more times of this deep relaxing equanimity, the acceptance of whatever might be.

[bxtgrl]

they put a noose around my neck and dared me to speak

the defining moments of the landsmeet. | ao3

//part of raindrops on the tongue, blood under the nails. some dialogue taken from game.

(First, I hesitate)

The night air is cool on her face, the sun having just set. The stars are shining and she can see the lights of Denerim in the distance. They’ll reach it by tomorrow and she tries to force down the lump that comes to her throat at the thought. In an effort to ease herself, she glances behind her to where she can see the flicker of their camp flame between some trees. The anxiety doesn’t release her, though, if anything its grip is tightened further and she lets out a shaky breath before she can stop herself.

She can feel Leliana’s gaze snap to her from where she sits next to her on the grassy hill. In an effort to avoid the other girl’s worry, she turns her focus back to the flower crown in her hands, putting in the final touches before adding it to the small pile between her and Leliana. Oriana had been the one to first teach her the craft, a way of wanting to bond, no doubt, with her new sister-in-law. It had worked, not taking long for Namera to consider the woman a sister in every way that counted. Now, she’s been teaching it to Leliana, a surprisingly quick learner. She likes to think Oriana would approve, that she would’ve quite liked Leliana and her quirky nature.

“You are troubled” Leliana speaks softly and Namera gives a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She wants to deny it, insist that they focus on something else of greater importance as she usually does. Her worries have been weighing on her, though, adding to the burdens she already carries. Besides, Leliana is one of those she has grown closest to within the group, the girl more a sister than a friend at this point. And if anyone would understand, or at least attempt to, it would be her.

“Eamon is determined to make Alistair king” she speaks hesitantly, not sure how to voice everything she’s feeling and everything she’s thinking.

Leliana’s brow furrows. “You disagree?”

She shakes her head, quickly, adamantly. “No, I think he could be a great king.” She can’t help the fondness that slips into her voice. “When he puts his mind to something, when he knows he’s doing right, that’s when he’s at his best. It’s just-” She pauses, bites her lip. It’s an entirely selfish thought. There’s so much more at stake than her own feelings. Things that are so much more important to this world than her relationship, but- “Where does that leave me?” She’d only just begun to find her place, plant her feet somewhere she could live with. The outcome of this Landsmeet threatens whatever shaky foundation she’d managed to lay down.

Leliana looks at her, head tilting and face soft. “I believe it will leave you wherever you want.”

She gives a soft, humorless laugh. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“And why not? You have gotten us this far, no? I doubt Ferelden politics will be your undoing.” Leliana gives her a sly look. “Besides, have you forgotten you promised to travel the world with me? You and Alistair can write. He takes too much of your time already, leaving barely any for me.”

Namera’s smile is more genuine this time, along with her quiet laugh. A comfortable silence falls upon them then. Eventually, she sighs, adjusting the crown of flowers on her head. “We should probably get back to camp. We’ve a long day ahead.” She hesitates, though, not quite wanting to leave this quiet, peaceful moment on the hill. “But first…” She fidgets with her hands, though she knows the request won’t be turned down. She’s made it multiple times, after all. “Can you tell me the story of Avelina again? Please?”

“Of course!” Leliana smiles, adjusts her own flower crown, and begins.

 (Then I open my mouth)

She’s frozen, has been since she heard the footfalls and turned to see who was approaching. Her hands are shaking and she’s nauseous. She’s going to be sick, she’s sure of it. She’s going to vomit out everything she is and everything she wants and everything she’ll ever be right onto the floor. She’ll lay it right there, at Howe’s feet, and then she’ll decapitate the bastard, right here and right now.

“Loghain, this is… an honor. That the regent would find time to greet me personally…” Eamon is polite as always and Namera wonders if he knows that she’s on fire, being torn inside and out. Alistair must, because she barely notices him send her a concerned look.  She can’t do anything to reassure him, though, because the man who slaughtered her family is standing right in front of her, mere feet away, within striking distance of her sword. She could eviscerate him right here and now, but she can’t because she shouldn’t. She knows politics well, so she certainly knows that murdering Loghain’s right hand man would not benefit them, or their cause, or Ferelden. It would only benefit her and that is simply not worth it.

Loghain and Eamon bicker, in the way politicians do with thinly veiled despise. She needs to speak, she knows. She keeps her eyes rooted to Loghain, hasn’t looked to Howe since he entered the room.

“If Anora rules, let her speak for herself.” Her voice comes out with more shake than she would like and she swallows, trying to clear her throat of the emotions constricting it.

Loghain’s attention snaps to her and she’s not surprised to find he doesn’t remember her from Ostagar—or perhaps, he pretends not to. They hadn’t interacted, she’d observed from the background. Still, under his sharp gaze, she finds her back straightening defiantly. “And who is this, Eamon? A new stray you picked up on the road? And here I thought it was only royal bastards you played the nursemaid to.”

She tilts her chin up, gaze defiant as she barely even hears Alistair’s grumble from behind her. For a moment, she’s unsure how to address herself. Before, she had always been Namera Cousland of Highever, daughter to the teyrn. That is not her identity any longer, though, and she hasn’t quite had the time to figure out a new one, but perhaps she had simply missed what’d been right in front of her. “I am Namera, of the Grey Wardens.”

Loghain leaves soon after, Eamon speaking as soon as the man and his party are gone. Eamon is barely finished with his sentence, though, when Namera speaks: “Howe killed my family. I can’t let him get away with it.”

And she won’t. She’ll kill him the very next day and she’ll stand straight with his blood splattered on her shield and drying on her amor. That weight is lifted while it’s replaced by another: who will she be, without that sole purpose of killing Howe?

 (And let out a scream)

“Why not simply marry Alistair? The best of both worlds.” The words are out before she can stop them and if she can reach and catch them from the air to take them back, she would. They’d been quick, blunt, a defense mechanism against all the sense that Anora is making. Maker, her parents had commented a few times on the Queen, how charming she was, how intelligent. She’d always respected her vicariously, through the assessments of her parents, but being in the same room with her and holding a conversation with such a vital disagreement between them is making her head throb with all the doubts being slammed into it.

She watches in quiet horror as Anora rolls the idea around, seeing the sense of it, because it does make sense. Anora has eyes, though, and has obviously noticed that she and Alistair are closer than most. Namera quickly and defensively tells her it is not her business and that it does not matter and that it is mere politics and she doesn’t know if she can come back from this.

 (Tell my love to run)

When Alistair finally joins her in their room that night, she is sitting on the bed, fiddling with a loose string of the quilt. He’s going on about Anora and his lack of trust for the Queen and she doesn’t know how to bring it up, but she has to, because things cannot be unsaid and sense cannot be unmade. “What would you say about marrying her?”

There’s a pause, a shift in the room that she can feel in her bones. He gawks at her, no doubt unable to believe he’d heard her right, before he shakes his head and speaks with clear shock. “Marry her? As in marriage? As in be her husband? You’ve spoken to her about this? You did, didn’t you?” He’s pacing now, running a hand through his hair and giving it a tug, as if he could pull the idea from his mind. She watches, silent, wishing she could sink into the bed and disappear. This is important, though, and she can’t ignore that. “You… why would you do that? What about us?”

She lets out a shaky breath, steels herself, and looks him in the eye. “I know. But this is important.” More important than them, which, while she knows to be a truth, somehow feels like the biggest lie she’s ever told.

He deflates and she persuades him the same way she had persuaded herself: it’s their best chance for peace. This is all of Ferelden they’re talking about. It’s bigger than them, literally and figuratively. She doesn’t want her own selfishness to get in the way of what’s best for the country, her country. Her parents, having survived a war, had instilled a patriotism in her, a willingness to sacrifice herself for the greater good of Ferelden and its people.

Silence engulfs them, neither sure what to say. Eventually, Alistair speaks, voice small and gaze elsewhere. “Do you trust her?”

She knows his opinion on this, that he does not trust Anora one bit. She thinks back to her earlier conversation with the woman and- “I want to.” But she can’t. It might be because of the calculated nature of Anora’s words. It might be so petty as to be because of her father. But she knows it’s just because she can’t. She hasn’t trusted anyone the same since her family fell at the hands of Howe. The only people she feels to be truly reliable are those she has been traveling with, that makeshift family of hers that has bled and fought alongside her. She has only a limited amount of trust left, she feels, and she does not want to put it in the hands of a woman she only just met with enough ambition to fill a country.

They stop talking. She doesn’t promise him anything for the future, no guarantee as to what would happen to their relationship should he marry Anora, and he doesn’t ask her for one. Instead, she takes his hand and draws him to the bed. They wrap themselves around each other and, if there’s one thing she now wants above all else, it’s to never let go.

But the morning comes and she has to.

 (And he does)

They’re outside the doors to the chamber, the Landsmeet waiting just beyond them. She’s coiled tightly, fingers twitching with the pressure she feels. She knows, no matter what the outcome, that nothing will be the same and there will be no going back from this. Her future’s hanging by a thread, swinging, and she doesn’t know what direction it will fall.

She stops right at the doors and turns to Alistair. He’s in Cailan’s golden armor and hers is freshly shined. They’re both looking respectable as ever and, behind the nervous shifting of his steps and the way his eyes glance about the room as if looking for a possible escape, she can see a king in him. Looking back, it’s been there since they met, and has only grown since. In his hands, she knows the country will be alright. He’ll stumble, she’s sure, but in the end he’ll do his best and learn and do what is right and that’s all she could ever ask for from a ruler.

She grabs a hold of his armor and brings him down, crashing her lips to his, because it’s nothing but the unknown lying behind those doors, but she knows this. She knows him and while she’s increasingly unsure of if she knows herself, she knows she loves him, no matter what, until the end. He kisses her back, greedily, and she can feel her own desperation reciprocated in his mouth. No matter the outcome of today, she thinks, knowing he loves her will be enough to give her the strength she needs.

 (Oh he does)

“Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?” It should be Alistair’s fight, she knows. Loghain is responsible for Alistair’s greatest loss: the Wardens and Duncan. But there’s something about Loghain’s voice, the glint to his shrewd gaze, that reminds her of the men in her father’s guard who had always eyed her dubiously when she’d held her sword, doubted her when she’d asked for a spar, suggested she put her attention toward the kitchen and cleaning and the art of hosting as if she could not master all that and the art of battle.

“I’ll fight this duel myself.”

 (With me by his side)

A decision has to be made. Loghain’s lying dead in a pool of blood, but all eyes are on her and her breath is bated, as if just as anxious for her decision as everyone else is. She knows what she has to do, what words she has to say. She doesn’t want to. Maker, she’d rather throw herself at the Archdemon right now than make this decision. Her chest aches and she worries she might not be able to speak, but she has to. She has to, she has to, she has to. It’s for the best, how many times must she tell herself this? Ferelden comes before her. She needs to let go of the man she loves, but she’s lost so many, so many, and this is the one thing she wants to keep above all else.

 She’s young, seventeen, and surrounded by color and laughter. She’s hidden herself in the corner, watching the dancing. Her parents throw wondrous parties, always the talk of the nobility for weeks later. She’s always enjoyed them for the most part. She knows how to be gracious and polite and to make others smile. She can charm any noble that presents themselves to her and not compromise herself in the process. Well-

“I think I’ve lost track of every young suitor you’ve danced with.” She turns at the voice of her brother, Fergus approaching her with a fond smile and that teasing twinkle in his eyes. She grimaces at him, despite the relief that she feels at his presence, and returns her gaze to the dancefloor. Fergus positions himself beside her, glancing toward the dancers as well before returning his focus to her. “You could always tell them ‘no.’”

She scoffs, hides the unladylike sound behind her hand. “And ruin mother’s party, months in the planning, by starting a feud? You know as well as I do that some of them are no better than Orlesians with their politics.”

Fergus sighs, eyes kind, and she knows he’s about to present her with some of his brotherly wisdom. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with thinking of yourself on occasion.”

She eyes him dubiously. “That’s called ‘being selfish,’ Fergus.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not always.” His eyes scan the room, land on Oriana, animatedly chatting up a noble. “One of these days, sister, you’re going to have to make a decision to put yourself first. It’s only healthy.”

“And the consequences of such a decision?”

He gives a hum, gaze steady on his wife. “Just might be worth it.”

She’s less sure now than ever. What a terrible, terrible moment to want to be selfish. But what even are her options? She cannot trust Anora alone, despite her clear capabilities. She can’t choose for Alistair to rule alone either. She doesn’t want him to carry that burden all by himself. She’s familiar with the weight of the world and she doesn’t wish it upon him. It makes complete sense for them to rule together, as she’d said, best of both worlds, but-

She’s younger, a small child, interrupting a story her mother is telling of a young maiden falling in love with a prince. “Mother, if I marry a prince, would I be a princess?”

Her mother smiles fondly. “Yes, my dear.”

“And when the prince is king, I would be a queen?”

Her mother is becoming amused. “That’s right.”

Namera pauses, thinks the fantasy over with a seriousness only children are capable of. “Would I be a good queen?”

Her mother’s face softens, eyes becoming thoughtful. She slides off her chair to sit opposite Namera on the floor. She runs a hand through the child’s golden locks, before tapping her chin to make sure their gazes connect. “Oh, my darling, with a heart like yours, you would be the best queen Thedas ever knew.”

 Her heart isn’t the same it had been when she was six. It’s scarred, chipped away at, but the center is still whole and warm and there, she likes to think. She likes to think, as well, that her new place in life is with the Grey Wardens, but, maybe, just maybe, there’s another place for her and Maker help her, she can see it, she really can.

She tilts her chin up, releases a quick prayer, and speaks clearly: “Alistair will be king, and I’ll rule beside him.”

#alistair theirin #female cousland #alistair romance #alistair x female warden #alistair x warden #female warden #dragon age #dragon age: origins #da #fanfiction #my ocs #rpg ocs #da ocs #namera cousland

[beckoningtales-blog]

The Last Pages..... "Acceptance"

(14June17):Wednesday; An extremely yet also late "top of the morning" lads and lasses. It is 44:2AM and the Mistress continues to allow peaceful, long overdue much needed rest to elude her. Eventually the wondrous overtake of slumber will eventually come my way and my mind, poor achy body can finally seek some comfort. The tale I am once again about to unweave, may very well not come as 8f any surprise to most of you, as still in all the harrowing stories, "emotions", "feels", and disadvantageous behavior, with blatant rectories of truth staring me down and speaking aloud....somehow I still am managed to find shock and surprise in realities unforeseen. Imagined, emphatically "yes", believed..."without a shadow of doubt"..... However the prudent, blatant truth presented in various contents as imagery, to reels, and my own personal favorite form....literature. As I always say, (while bearing well meaning), I shall keep this short, and precise. I have known since the ground was still frozen cold, until its thawing and even at this very moment.... The Mortician had become beyond infatuated with his work, it became every detail of being, breathing, and existing....his life. I planned (mindfully, the heart is but full of trickery to the usual senses and a fool) NOT to compete with any "thing" much less another individual. My mind, and internal instincts spoke volumes of truth .y beguiled eyes were too blinded by love to see, admit, accept and move past. I shant fill the pages with keen detailed information as I would normally. For one, I am "LITERALLY" exhausted by this entire ordeal as much as I was when I first sensed an upheaval. Also, even as I have FINALLY prepared myself for this moment.."feelings" as absolute as they may appear to one or many still hurt. Our relationship grew apart before this year ever struck midnight. My noticing of behavioral change, characteristically and beyond came some months later. I was "blindly" unaware, yet had a hunch of how deep seeded his connection to "this newer/ yet old" passion had become. I felt there was that of bonding concerning Civil Duties which I many times could only fathom but not share corresponding roots for having never served in that form. However the bonds we (he and I) made earlier on in the beginning, and in the midst of sharing our lives and home together grew daily. Yes, we each had a past. Professionally speaking, some public, some private, some sordid, a great deal secret only to ourselves until we spoke in unbridled truth in to the other. Our most sacred bond was never that of a physical caliber despite my willingness, and committed oath that NO OTHER individual but he would ever have me in the forms we shared, (some passionate, other deviant) and above all would never have my heart, love, or respect as that all was an invisible gift I could only present in gestures and literary words off my lips were (and sadly will be) none other than his. His straying came first as he admitted, in the form of "curiosities" . then fascination, finally commitment, and I was a mere afterthought and a means to a bitter and no pave loss end. The infatuation, (as he harringly, yet executed poorly through his journals....added on with fictitious mentions of false greatness by astounding teams of repertoire) was someone of his past. Not the usual random "fair haired, ginger, or brunette" willing to provide the least amount of attention....this was one whom could share the stories of wartime, service, sacrifice, and more. In his ledgers he admitted having "feelings" (huh, imagine that) during their time together in years past, but never acted upon them. It was only when the other, sought him out these years later (in his near perfect form as he conceited himself) that those fleeted feelings rearose and left him wondering "Why now?" and moreover...."Why not??!!" We shared a blissful short well meaning time together just a few days ago leading into the weekend. I played the tale of the domestic, which filled me with nerves (of my performance as I sadly had not committed to for months now), but also upon his approval and liking. Beyond that we reminiced of our laughable, yet queer tales of situations that befell on us in the year 16....of physical love, throws of passion and intimacies that we never shared (even with our former spouses) until having laid eyes upon eachother. The greatest in our time spent, was the laughter, and the sincere embraces as we slept. Once again the ticking of time was inevitable to remind us it would be short lived. I spoke in haste out of (once again yet new characteristic for he as the norm) and it eluded from there. The evening drone on, I made baseless notations of ending our union, to taking long overdue and much needed time apart....to finally reconciling leaving by nightfall. Once again I left the decision still "hoping" (FOOL) that he would genuinely want me and us. He was cold, indifferent and set. I as usual in my despair of love and a life lived without him...(no not for what he can afford to provide me) I speak 8f an empty cold, living day in and day out like a breathing corpse due to the missing of your very beating heart and soul. He again exclaimed his desire for me not to leave.....but ended his statement with the threat that once I crossed the threshold and closed the door......HE would heed that as "Goodbye" and with very little room for emotions of loss, sadness or grief..move on. How it burned to hear, but in between the array of various half truths, and soulless mendacities he sited....THAT statement I knew had great merit as I told him numerous times, he would...easily. He also informed me (as I spoke myself numerous times due to the hatred and disgust I had even more so than usual for myself) had "changed." I was no longer the means of joy, laughter, pleasantry and light he once enjoyed being with let alone around. I (in my usual and TRUTHFULLY heartfelt demeanor) apologized from the bowels of my soul for my abhorrent, crude, hateful, accusatory, and without meaning judgemental behavior and gave my word.....IT...the questions, wondering, etc, etc would cease and dissist. He accepted my newfound gesture, (making no personal announcement of changes HE would be undergoing for the betterment not only for us, but moreover himself) and why would he??? He felt no apathy, no responsibility on his part which increased my madnees, and above all,,,,,held fast to the deception of pure innocence and blameless behavior. His only "half spoke sorrow" and it beared no deep feeling, was in his wrongdoing for "neglecting me" (poor colored me) from time spent on the computer. Today........ Oh how I rue the day, but my bed...my stupid heart....therefore my tears are not only in grief for what we had and have lost, but also in rageful frustration and anger within myself for being so undoubtedly foolish, weak, spineless, and above all lacking any means of common sense and decency. The first shocking (graven into my memory for all time) were the numerous....and I do mean NUMEROUS movies, takes, "tags", and countless unprotected bodies I saw in REAL (no not in person) time of him impaling with no feeling other than that of lust, and self satisfaction. NOT ANYTHING of a supposedly engaged or even taken in a committed relationship man. He was behaving like a self satisfying whore! !!!! I kept my word, and did not allow what I'd seen under various aliases (much like that of his fictitious Author's books). It hurt, as emotions do...... I felt filthy for even sitting beside him, and immediately lost my appetite at any meal he prepared seeing the filth of his ways onscreen. NO it isn't of is past life I judge nor have I ever, it is at the thought let alone execution of his unfeeling (minus said lust) cruel, crude and unhealthy behavior towards me. As everything else it came as no shock due to my suspicions coming forth, it was the witnessing. And dare I not ever even make mention. For one, his probably removed all accounts and content (minus that which he shares via "apps", links, codes, and torrents) but also he (in his mind I'm sure yet still failed miserably) tried to geniusly falsify his true presence by mocking different faces (that any amateur would take note of) on the male portions of the bodies in each. His costly mistake.....underestimating my intelligence as he well should, would 8ther idiotic fool would willingly choose to live with a vagrant. But yes also left a trail of endless breadcrumbs upon his searches and installations. He asked numerous times for me to avail my true feelings as upon not only being sick with cold, I was also somewhat dispondent and I truthfully replied. ....it was NOTHING. Also what personal gain have I ever deemed by admitting something bothered me in the past even upon his "concerned insistence." I held onto a shred of pride and bit my tongue. It wasn't until just a mere few hours later that I found the black and white (haha....and I am not referring to myself against his list of many) I mean the "literary journaled" truth that he even so bewitchingly had the audacity to place in front of me (after making more personal downloads and removing content from my prying yet no longer caring eyes).....the very HELL only non rouse for phonographic means of a webpage, to introduce me to something I love......"books". The night/morning continues to bemoan by. My face is sore and taught from the battle since the previous night, of allergies. Therefore I shall allow this to be my long awaited close. As yet again meaning well... I poured in several details for the audience to gain full perspective. This shall be deemed "Part 1"......of the cliffhanger (pardon me for not receiving the blatant telegrams sooner). I shall resume with the conclusion as the sun awakes the Earth or upon next moonlight. My deepest gratitude for your eyes and ears.....

#acceptance #movingforward