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sublimeheartwizard · 3 years

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Hair Chalk: How to Use It & Remove It

Perhaps it’s all the gorgeous festival beauty looks on our Pinterest feeds, but lately we’ve had the urge to go full-on cotton candy with our locks. There’s something about pastel-hued, hair-chalked strands that speaks to our inner wild child—and we’ll be honest, the lack of commitment makes them even more appealing. But with new formulas springing up left and right, how are you supposed to know how to use (and more importantly, remove the remnants of) each one? We did the research for you, and found out exactly how to apply and wash out each type of hair chalk, leaving you more time to fishtail and dip-dye to your heart’s content.

Liquid Hair Chalk

Liquid hair chalk lasts anywhere from 2-10 shampoos. It will usually come with a sponge-tipped or foam applicator. To apply, place a towel over your shoulders and put on gloves to prevent staining your clothes and hands. Next, use the applicator to apply the formula to your locks. wait 30 seconds for product to absorb fully, then blow-dry with a styling brush. To remove it, you're supposed to just wash your hair as you would normally. However, you can also massage a hair oil like Sachajuan's Intensive Hair Oil ($33) into your strands before shampooing and conditioning, in order to speed up the removal process.

Hair Chalk Compact

A hair chalk compact can be used on wet or dry hair, but applying to wet hair will give you a more intense color. Take a one-inch section of hair and slide the hair chalk compact over the length you’d like to color. Seal the pigment in with a spritz of hairspray. Depending on how light your hair is, it'll last one to three shampoos to get it out of your hair. Hair chalk that comes in a compact will usually wash out quickly and easily with shampoo, though blondes may have to shampoo a few times more to rinse out all of the pigment.

Hair Chalk Pen

The traditional hair chalk pen can be used on wet or dry hair, and lasts from 2-4 shampoos, depending on how light your hair is. Place a towel on your shoulders and use gloves to prevent staining. If you're brunette, wet the section of hair you’d like to color before applying the chalk. Blondes can do that too, but it'll make the pigment stay on much longer. Apply the chalk to the strand of hair you'd like to color, twisting the hair into itself as you go. Allow for the color to dry, or just give it a cool blast of air with your hairdryer. Style as usual, but if you want to lock in the color, finish it with hairspray. It can be removed with normal shampoo, but a clarifying shampoo (like Verb's Reset, $16) will rinse it out quick.

Hair Chalk Spray

Hair chalk spray is likely the easiest to use, because you just spray it on dry hair right before going out. It typically only lasts a few shampoos, but that also means it's super easy to get out of your hair. Just mist the color directly on your hair, wherever you would like a pop of color, and style it like normal.

Marker

Markers, or felt-tip pens, serve a variety of functions. Children use them to make bright, colorful drawings. The stereotypical teacher uses a glaring, unmistakable red felt-tip to grade papers. Retail employees, roadside vendors, performers, and protestors rely on the indelible, eye-catching shades and thick inking surface of these writing and drawing utensils to announce sales, prices, and productions, or to create strongly worded posterboard signs to convey dissatisfaction. Markers are also useful for permanently marking surfaces, which is often necessary for identification purposes—putting names on clothing tags, boxes, and tape which can be adhered to almost any item.

Raw Materials

The marker body, cap, and plugs are formed from plastic resin. The marker reservoir, which holds the ink, is formed from polyester. Powder and water are used to form the felt writing tip. In addition, markers require ink, and the pigments and synthetic substances used to make it. Toluol and xylol used to be common synthetics used as solvents in dye, but due to their toxic nature these substances have largely been replaced with safer chemicals such as cyclic alkylene carbonates, although these chemicals are still used to make the indelible ink contained in permanent markers. The solvent is the substance into which the dye is diluted. Water also acts as a solvent in ink. Additives may also be used in an ink mixture to act as wetting agents.

Making the marker

3 To make the body of the marker, plastic resin is injection-molded into a marker body. Injection molding involves heating a substance, in this case plastic resin, into a molten state and forcing (injecting) it into a mold of the desired shape, then allowing it to cool and harden. Marker caps and plugs are formed in the same manner as the barrel.

4 The nib, or tip, of the marker is made from powder which is mixed with water, molded, and baked into its pointed or flat form.

5 Using one machine for all the following functions, an assembler then places a polyester cylinder inside the marker barrel to form a reservoir for the ink, fills the reservoir with ink, and inserts the nib at the bottom and the cap at the top.

6 The markers are then placed into color assortment and packaged for retail marketing.

The highlighter’s appeal has flourished in the digital age. Most word-processing and e-reader software products have a highlighter function. And the hand-held highlighter continues to evolve, too. In the early ’80s, the fiber tip gave way to polyethylene beads molded into porous heads. (The plastic squeaks less, and the ink flows more smoothly.) When the highlighter business saw that it wasn’t being embraced by holdouts who preferred pens, it made the dual highlighter/pen. There are now retractable highlighters. And flat ones. And ones that smell like pizza.

LIGHTING UP THE BIBLE

Due to the thin paper used in most Bibles, typical highlighters often bleed through. For that reason, G.T. Luscombe, a distributor of Bible-study accessories based in Frankfort, Ill., got into the business of Bible-paper-friendly highlighters. John Luscombe, the president and chief executive, explains:

Is there a particular color code? There are different types of coding depending on how many colors there are. But for the most common four colors, we recommend that yellow represents blessings, blue represents the Holy Spirit, pink represents salvation and green represents growth and new life.

How to Choose a Paint Starter Set for Beginners

With so many paint colours available and new ranges being released every week, which paint set should you buy when you first start painting?

The overwhelming feeling that descends when trying to buy paint colours either online or in your local art store can often lead to the safe bet…

The pre-boxed starter set.

The paint companies have designed them to help you, right? The best paints for your needs when you are just beginning…or so you would think.

But are they a good choice?

Are you getting the best value for money or are they sending you down the wrong path? I’ve devised a simple technique to help you decide which starter palette is right for you.

Ready for a little paint history lesson to understand what you should be thinking about on your next trip to the art store?…

Boxed starter sets are designed to give you a varied approach, a range of colours that can give you the widest colour gambit with the minimum amount of outlay.

But here’s the rub.

It depends on what you’re aiming for with your end result. If you think about the paintings that you want to achieve, the subject matter you are most drawn to before you actually buy your paints then you can make an educated guess which colour palette is going to be right for you.

The Old Masters

In Renaissance times, the Old Masters learnt their trade of painting as a craft.

The tradition of the craft had a system of apprenticeship.

Colour mixes were kept secret and passed on from generation to generation, some painters even created their own codes to keep the secret mixes safe.

Working under apprenticeships in individual Ateliers (the French word for “workshop”) was the norm. Artists learnt how to grind their own paints from the natural earth pigments surrounding them. Working from dry pigments, they had to be mixed with oil and then ground into a paste by hand to make paint.

The colour choice was limited and paintings relied on the use of dramatic lighting and tonal value to produce great works. (see: The Importance of contrast in painting)

Working with this limited available palette can teach you a great deal about colour mixing and warm and cool colours. I’ve made a free still life video course that shows you a classical approach to painting using just burnt sienna, ultramarine blue & titanium white.

Masters Palette – Perfect for portraits & understanding the importance of tone.

When the Old Masters were mixing colours, the pigments came from the earth, literally ground up rocks and minerals – hence the muted palette being called the earth colours.

When painting portraits, they couldn’t just go out to buy ‘flesh tint’ they looked, observed and mixed it.

Burnt umber, raw umber, yellow ochre, burnt sienna, red ochre, these are the sorts of colours they would have been using.

If you want to try and recreate an Old Master-style painting, using the pigments they used, gives you an immediate head start. In my article on ‘How to choose a basic portrait palette’ I use a muted collection of colours.

Skin tones are muted, so start with a muted colour. It seems obvious right? But when you’re painting the urge to try and ‘fix it’ by adding an extra colour is huge.

Don’t feel like it’s only you, I still do it now after 20 years, even though I should know better!

The Holiday Season brings with it plenty of gifts… and then there are the actual gifts themselves! Yes, we know it. Christmas is not just about presents and shopping alone. It is definitely not a time to just run around from one store to another looking for that elusive gift. But we all do it anyway. Then comes the time to wrap it all up and put it under the giant tree so that it all feels picture-perfect. And for some us, this is undoubtedly the part that we most enjoy. Wrapping your Christmas gift feels so very serene, relaxing, and enjoyable. Maybe it is because you know that finally the shopping is all done. Maybe because you can marvel at the DIY Gift Box you just crafted. And once you’ve completed your DIY gift set you can choose from this pack of 20 different Holiday Grosgrain Ribbon patterns as the final touch.

This is right; this Holiday Season, it is time to give your presents a homemade box. A festive DIY gift box makes it all more personal and you will see that every member of your family and our friends will love the custom box as much as they cherish the gift inside. Handmade gift boxes also give you greater creative freedom when it comes to ‘saying it just right’.

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trailsoftravel-blog · 5 years

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“Morning you had sighting here I guess”, asked our Guide as we drove along the forest path.

“Yes, we waited for ours till Patdeo joined her cubs in the waterhole out there”, I responded.

“These are her second set of cubs. Some of the previous ones were killed by one of the new males who have come in recent times”.

“But why?” – A tone of disgust accompanied my question.

“BMW and Raiyakasa were the dominant males in this part of the jungle, territory divided between them. The previous cubs were from BMW. These two new males came in and defeated BMW and Raiyakasa. As a norm, they will kill cubs of the previous male before they mate with the female. Out of 4, they killed two and two escaped. These are cubs of one of these new male tiger”.

Intriguing practices of the wild.

“Now we are passing the zone of Collarwali.” A name that struck a chord, but I couldn’t recollect why.

“Don’t think she will deliver any more cubs after having delivered 30.” That immediately reminded me that she holds the record on earth for being the tigress who has delivered maximum number of cubs.

“She lost how many” was my obvious next question after knowing about the phenomenon of the jungle where a male tries to kill a cub of a tigress with whom he intends to mate.

“All are alive” was the surprising response. And her cubs, some of who are now adults have been located in areas as far as Karnataka as well.

Nothing can be a more immersive experience than knowing the tales of the jungle as one roams through it. Maybe it is a legacy here – the land which prompted many stories of Mowgli by Rudyard Kipling. While Kipling probably never visited this zone, the description of the forests and mention of Seoni on quite a few occasions associates this zone to Jungle Book.

Every national park has multiple points of entry and ours were split across the most popular Turia Gate in MP and Khursapur Gate of Maharashtra. Sillari Gate is another popular point of entry but located quite far off if you are staying near Turia gate. If you are arriving the same day into Nagpur and then planning to arrive down to Pench, choose the safari from Turia Gate for that day, since it starts at 4 pm and stretches till 7 pm. The one at Khursapur starts at 3 pm and ends at 6-30pm. The morning safaris start at 5-30 am at both gates. While one needs to exit by 9-30 am at Khursapur, the one at Turia stretches till 10-30am.

It is exactly ten years later that I am back in Pench. Then it was winter. It was with my family, parents and in-laws. A long dreamt itinerary of my father – the jungles of MP. Pench was the last halt and we had only one safari scheduled. Yet, I vividly retain memories of that safari. Nowhere else, in all my forest trails, have I been welcomed by the Queen of the jungle herself – royally occupying the road as our gypsy were amongst the first two to enter that morning. She stayed along with us for quite a while and even waiting to pounce on a herd of deer that was approaching her, till they sensed her presence and moved away. It was also memorable since it was a photographic disaster of mine, with the gypsy driver constantly moving the vehicle in critical times, torn between my eagerness to stay close to the tiger and my father-in-law’s utter irritation and worry at being so close to the tiger. Also it probably presented thrills and excitements like no other safaris till recently, maybe the Almighty knew that was the last one my father was experiencing – his last sojourn into the wild before he passed away.

All the above feelings and experiences merged together, Pench was always on the list for a repeat visit. Being the peak of summer with Nagpur clocking the highest temperature in the country the previous week, the jungle seemed a lot barren than the dreamy memories I had. It is dominated by mixed forests with considerable shrub cover and open grassy patches. The meandering jungle path traverses through tall lanky trunks of saja, bijiayasal, lendia, haldu, dhaora, salai, aonla, amaltas on the Turia side and a lot of Teak trees on Khursapur side. Forest fire has destroyed quite a bit of all these trees and it gave a ghostly look to the landscape in patches, with only black trunks standing, devoid of branches and leaves. The path then unfolds itself into vast open stretches similar to African Savannah. Soon you are on the picturesque banks of Pench River – the river sparsely filled in these summer months. The poetic thoughts were hindered by a movement nearby – two jackals appear from nowhere and make their way down the slope of the bank to the river to quench their thirst. Binoculars help spot two tigers sitting far away, resting after satisfying their thirst.

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While mahua is often associated with forest lands in Chotanagpur belt of Jharkhand, Purulia & Odisha, here too Mahua has a dominant presence, not only in the jungles but in the life of the tribals here and also of the animals. Around March-April, the attraction of Mahua pulls the sloth bear out into these zones and chances of sighting them are high. We did chance upon one, but at a distance, trying to dig out the soil.

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The early morning darkness and the pleasant breeze before another dreadfully hot day is such a great motivator for waking up early. I don’t think, anything else makes me alert and awake as much in the wee hours of dawn, as the desire to foray into the wild. The langurs are taking their positions as they have realized that safari time has begun. The first rays of morning sun makes the Indian Roller look gorgeous as we stop to take a few snaps. The White Eye Buzzard seemed oblivious to our presence as it looked away, planning the day ahead. Nonchalance of the kingfisher was a camouflage which maynot be apparent to the fish but quite evident to us. The forest workers are on their prowl on elephant back to track tigers as they need to stay updated about locations of the animals and their status.

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We are back to Bono Dobri, near the waterhole, where now a tiger cub is playful with water.

“Cub of Patdeo”, our guide whispered. “The others should be around too”. And that’s where we decided to halt for the next couple of hours. It is critical to anticipate movement of the animals and attempt taking a position from where one can snap better. We kept exploring such a spot as we kept an eye at the waterhole. One cub, seemed to be quite enterprising as it kept coming over to the waterhole and going back, while the other two, probably weren’t as bold and hence proceeded with caution into the waters and became comfortable as their mother graciously walked in to join them. They greeted her into the waterhole by rubbing their faces against Patdeo and then they settled down, as a family for a while, in the waterhole.

The enterprising young cub kept moving in and out, while his two other siblings cuddled beside mother as obedient kids. Time flew by watching the ways of the family out there. Little did we realize that color of our skin has changed, exposed at length to such a strong sun of summer in that zone for hours, first in anticipation, and then in emancipation. Finally, mother decided that she had her share of sunbathing and walked out from the pool, yet again caressing her cubs. The enterprising cub had already moved away and the two others were confused for a while whether to embrace the cushy safety of mother or continue to relive themselves from the heat by staying in the waters.

The prolonged viewing of the above scene was too tempting and hence, all three of us jumped into the swimming-pool of our resort on coming back. We could empathize with the cubs and their unwillingness to move out of water.

The Nagpur cuisine with its liberal use of red chilies in the besan curry gravy and the beans subzi was the perfect catalyst to begin the afternoon safari with a bang. With the gypsy ahead of us standing still, we sensed sighting – and it was the semi—adult male cub of Langri, who was at a distant, peacefully taking a break. Seemed like it was waiting for our arrival, post which it started moving towards us. Past trails in the wild have given some idea about the possible movements of the fauna in the wild and was happy that could guide the gypsy to a place where we were in perfect position to snap him as he walked onto the road and crossed over. As a child, I was taught that whenever you cross a road, first look right, then left and again right and then decide. I am sure Langri must have taught him the same since he followed that as he crossed over.

The strong winds seemed even stronger amidst trees as we set out for the afternoon safari. The battle for the sky was evident between clouds and sun, just like the battle for gaining ground is an eternal truth in the wild. Lack of previous experience of a shower during safari dampened us partly as it started raining. But avid enthusiasts like us refused to succumb in and have the cover pulled up on the Gypsy.

“Herbivores seem to be less here”, I checked with our guide. In fact we have only seen one Nilgai and one herd of Sambar near a water-body in two days. Spotted deer, of course has been an occasional sighting.

Our guide agreed and said hence tigers come out often in search of their feed.

“What about Indian Gaur?” (or Bison as some also refer to them as). He explained how the construction of a new dam has changed the course of the Pench river and portions, through which the river used to run has developed into swampy grasslands and Gaurs get their kind of food better there and less of predators.

“Sir, your words were heard, look on the right.” The dark black mound like thing slowly unfolded itself as a large Indian Gaur, tearing the bark of a tree. Those barks are high on fiber and hence favourite food for the Gaurs. We stopped a little ahead, in an anticipation, that if it walks straight down, it will be right in front of us. Patience and hope converged to pull the Gaur slowly towards the edge of the road. And for a wildlife photo enthusiast, an animal crossing over is a coveted moment to capture. Not often I have seen a Gaur of this size, with a charismatic hump, decorative horns with colors emanating from them.

My companions were fast asleep. I walked out in the verandah to smell the nature and hear her silence. I looked up – the moon seemed to be throwing rays of hope through a small gap amidst the trees.

We kept wondering what made Bindu (tigress) afraid and move out just after we got a passing sight of her? Was there a bigger tigress somewhere amidst the tall grasses ahead? It remained unanswered.

In Tadoba, our first tryst with a tiger was when we chanced upon Maya sleeping. As I shared in my blog on Tadoba, I had never waited so long for anyone to wake up, the way I did at Tadoba for Maya to wake up. But when our Guide said “Paras sighted” after receiving a call, the gypsy driver sped through the jungle roads to reach the spot in next 5 minutes. But Paras seemed sleepy, utterly irritated at our presence. So long, we have seen gracious or aggressive looks of a tiger. But here, Paras seemed quite cute, her sleepy eyes, yawning and gently keeping her head on her paws trying to sleep was a sheer unusual sight. She got up from the water, walked down to a shade, sat for a while and then suddenly lied down on her side and off to sleep she went. From a tigress waking up to another one going to bed, it is a good cycle of experience for us.

There isn’t anything very different about Pench than many other similar forests in India. Yet, as I started writing, stories seems to be cropping up one after another. If this place can create so many stories for a non-literary soul like me, no wonder it helped the likes of Rudyard Kipling create chapters of stories.

This park indeed holds a special place in my mind for past experiences. Not sure when I will be back here again, but we will soon be back in this zone as we firmed up plans for our next wildlife travel-trail to Tippeshwar. The old favourite tune was running through my mind, aptly echoed when I heard my companion humming it with words

“Jungle jungle baat chali hai……pata chala hai”

Pensive Pench “Morning you had sighting here I guess”, asked our Guide as we drove along the forest path.

#wildlife indianwildlife nationalpark pench wanderlust nature wild tiger indiatravel

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s-tarboi · 7 years

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"I don't want your pity, I want your absence." with Alize and Latis //rip that one probably hard

whoops this was longer than I meant it but aayye here you go bb some alize/latis angst for the soulalso sorry for any grammatical errors or anythingI’m still tired af bc I couldn’t take that nap oops

Soft clinking of chains filled the cell as Alize tried to move. The chains themselves were short and way too fucking tight, to the point she was sure her wrists were bruised. Then paired with the fact the cell itself was barely larger than she was, only big enough to fully extend her legs but not much more than that. A small barred window was placed high on the wall she was currently resting on. It was snowing, as was the norm for this kingdom of ice after all. A cold chill came through the window and Alize shivered slightly. This was definitely a change of scenery from the sunny prairie lands of the south in which she grew up in.

Despite the freezing temperature, the pain in her arms and wrists, and the discomfort of the cell, this was all trivial things compared to what may possibly lay in store for her later. To say she was terrified was an understatement. While, yes, she could potentially be face to face with the person who sent her mother to her early grave, finally be able to see for herself what a horrible savage this Latis the Demented Queen was, that didn’t excuse the fact that Alize was utterly powerless in this situation. She had no weapons, couldn’t use her fists, couldn’t even bribe herself out this situation… Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck…. What to do..Time was ticking down on her clock. She heard the tick, tick, tock drumming in her ears louder than the Church bells on a Sunday morning even though it’d be ridiculous to have a clock in a jail cell. Regardless, she heard it. Painfully aware that this could be the last day she breathed. Even so, she remained vigilant. Alize refused to let her mother’s legacy die in vain with her. No. She would go kicking and screaming if she had to. Or at least take as many of these crazy bastards that lived in this godforsaken castle with her as she could to the after life with her.A sound caught her attention. Metal scraping on metal as the jail’s main gate was raised. Someone was here. A new prisoner perhaps? Guards making their rounds, spitting and jeering at the prisoners as they passed by? Both, maybe? Or was it finally time to meet this oh-so-infamous queen? Heavy footsteps could be heard throughout the jail’s halls. She remembered there was a cross section at the end of her hallway. If they turned left, she was safe for now. Right and surely they were coming for her as there weren’t many people on this wing of the halls.Her heart beat faster as she heard the person stop….They picked up again and she smiled to herself, her head dropping low, and her stomach in her throat. The person had gone right. She let out a long, soft breath to clear her mind of every negative thought. She could do this. She could get out of this. Latis won’t get the chance to kill Alize just like she’d killed mom. She gently shook her raven black hair back as best she could from her face. Just in time before the footsteps stopped outside her cell. Looking up, she was met eye to eye with a rough looking guy. He looked around her age, early adulthood that is, though his face was covered in scars and one eye seemed blinded and clouded over. He had short, messy, ginger hair and wore a scowl. Alize guessed quickly that must be how he looked quite often. His armor was the same as every other guard in the castle. Faded blueish gray with yellow markings across the shoulders and various other parts.“Ready or not, Queen Latis summons you, girl.” he said in a bitter tone. His voice was deep and gravely, not at all what she expected. She didn’t voice this opinion out loud, of course, instead just simply nodding. The guard opened her cell, grabbing her chains, dismounting them from the wall and leading her through the twisting and winding dungeon up into the castle itself. As they walked, Alize took in as much as she could. The dungeon had been grimy and cold and smelled of shit and death. But once they got into the castle, it was like a whole different world. Bright, shiny knick-knacks covered each shelf, as well as books, papers, and journals. Large, lavish paintings and tapestries adorned the walls as well. To Alize, they were all of random scenes, random people, nothing she particularly cared about nor was interested in.They eventually came to a set of wide double doors, made of a dark oak. It was smooth and almost appeared glossy, much like the rest of the castle she mused to herself. The ginger headed guard that had been escorting her opened the doors, pulling her along with him as he stepped inside. The chains clinked almost too loudly in the way too quiet throne room. People were gathered here, all eyeing her either suspiciously, accusingly, or downright hatefully as she was pulled in front of where Latis herself sat on her lavish and aggravatingly posh throne, made of red satin and the trim lined with yellow, orange, and white gemstones.Latis herself looked at Alize with a sour look, her featured tightening ever so slightly. She had chocolate colored hair pulled into a tight pony tail, caramel colored skin, and light yellow eyes. Age wrinkles adorned every part of her body, as well as three long scars that sat in the middle of her face, adding more to her scowl than normal. Her clothes consisted of a floor length dress the same faded blue as the guards’ armor, an icy colored sash wrapped around her hips and thrown over her shoulder. Light beige trimmed the sash and she wore a dark gray armlet with a large sapphire stone placed in the center. She definitely gave off a vibe of power and royalty.“So. You’re the rebellions leader, girl?” Latis finally spoke. Her voice was harsh like sandpaper over a chalkboard. It reminded Alize of a hissing cat.Alize simply looked at the queen. “No. We don’t have a dictatorship like you’re miserable excuse for a kingdom. We vote on our actions amongst ourselves. The strongest of us are the ones that take action first, while the rest follow. The ones who aren’t afraid to risk their lives for our cause, who know how to rally, inspire, and empower our, er, weaker willed members. We lead ourselves.”“Then you are apart of the rebellion. Treason as it is. Punishable by death or exile, y’know. Maybe both.” Latis laughed to herself. It was a wicked and shrill laughter and it almost hurt Alize’s ears.“So it may be. But I assure you, Stormscar, even if I fall by your hands, another will take my place. Then that person may fall and another will take their place. And so on and so on. Until we overthrow your kingdom and restore a peaceful government to these lands our ancestors used to call home. That goes for all unjust and biased kingdom.”“Sounds more like world domination to me.” Latis cawed again.“No. All we want is peace for the kingdoms. We’re tired of war. Tired of living in fear that our husbands, our wives, our children, our lives we’ve built generation after generation could be demolished in the blink of an eye before the next sunrise. Call it whatever you will, in the end its your well deserved justice.” Alize retorted.“Justice? That’s a load of horse crap, dear. There is no justice in this world. Just suffering and agony at the hands of people like you who come brandishing their weapon of silver tongues, calling for peace and harmony and all that tree hugging hippie bullshit. Even if you were to end this apparently “wicked” reign of mine, as you said, another will take my place. Another just like me. Then another after them. What then? Back to square one it would seem.” Latis said, drumming her fingers on the arms of her chair impatiently.“Maybe you have a point. Maybe this world is destined to be drowned in chaos until we as a species end up killing ourselves to extinction. However, I don’t believe that. I believe, eventually, there will be someone that will come to their senses and say “Hey, the way we’re doing things is bad. Maybe we should change?” But that would never happen with narrow minded simpletons like yourself… You’re majesty.” Alize spit the last words at Latis’s feet, though the queen didn’t flinch at all.“Perhaps that may be the case. I do pity you, girl, I wish I was as naive to the world and how it works as you were. Maybe one day you’ll learn that corruption is a natural part of life and the most powerful always come out on top.” Latis said.Alize spit to Latis again, this time managing to strike the queen’s dress. Latis raised an eyebrow though Alize spoke before she could. “I don’t want your pity. I want your absence. And we’ll see to it you’re replaced. For the people. For my mother.”Latis then raised a hand, signalling for the guard from before to step forward. “Baphomet, kill her. Leave her body where these revolutionists will find her body. I want a message sent to them that we’ll kill anyone that will oppose us.”“Yes, m’lady.” Baphomet said, drawing his sword without a second thought. Alize narrowed her eyes. So much for getting out of this alive. For a moment she thought about trying to fight her way out of the castle. But she realized she was hopelessly outnumbered. The odds were stacked against her. She couldn’t escape. Instead, she accepted her demise, refusing to give Latis the satisfaction of hearing her scream as the sharp metal of Baphomet’s blade sliced open her jugular, blood pouring across the white marble floor of the throne room. All the while, until the very end, Alize glared straight at Latis.She’d failed her mother. Her people. The kingdoms. The rebellion. She failed them all. But she still had hope that Latis, and all the other tyrant rulers of this world, would get their judgement. If not by her hands, by someone else just as worthy to uphold the rebellions morals and laws.

#rip I dont think Alize died canonly like this but it fits so go with it lmao #also im so proud of myself this has 1739 words

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