#i really like the actual depth you feel with the open isle so its fine

[sinceileftyoublog]

Small Isles Interview: Filmless Music

Photo by Dustin Aksland

BY JORDAN MAINZER

It’s rare that you find a record with a genesis as specific as The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea, the debut album from Small Isles. The new project of guitarist Jim Fairchild (Grandaddy, former Modest Mouse) and songwriter/composer Jacob Snider has its basis in film scoring. The catch? The films don’t exist. The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea is presented as an imaginary score to an imagined sequel to Ang Lee’s 1997 familial drama The Ice Storm, itself based on Rick Moody’s 1994 novel. And the band’s upcoming, unfinished EP, with strings arranged by Snider and recorded by collaborator Sienna Peck, is, according to the band, a distillation of the concept of the band, one that consciously combines film scoring motifs with traditional songwriting. In a way, you could say that Small Isles is music about film scoring as much as scores itself.

Fairchild and Snider hold the belief that film scores should hold their own as a piece of music independent of visuals, and on The Valley, The Mountains, The Sea, they announce themselves convincingly. Opening track “The Concept”--essentially the prototype for the band--combines vaguely harmonic deep bass sounds with pristine, echoing string plucks, and wordless vocals, building up like an Explosions in the Sky tune. Other tracks, too, juxtapose the ambient with recognizable structures. “Fort Wayne” shimmers atop a drum machine, while the vocal samples of “Maybe We Will” cut in and out among the beats and arpeggios. Each track also has a pristine sense of place, as much of the album was written while Fairchild was on tour with Modest Mouse, tracks like “Fort Wayne” and the washy, atonal “Lake Superior” started in those locations.

I spoke with Fairchild (calling from his home in Ojai, California” and Snider (calling from near Philadelphia) last week, a few days prior to the release of the album via AKP Recordings. (The album comes out on vinyl next month). Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity, about the band’s artistic process, The Ice Storm, adapting the songs live, and what Small Isles has in common with Olivia Rodrigo’s Sour.

Since I Left You: You’ve called this record an imaginary score to an imaginary film. Did you think of the sequencing of the record in a narrative arc?

Jim Fairchild: Kind of, but honestly, there’s a sequence that originally existed, and I don’t remember what it was, and it would have been more aligned with what I pictured from the movie, but it didn’t work as well as a comprehensive piece of music. The last song on here, “The Plot to Take Clover”, that was earlier before. “Life at One”, the first single, really kicked off me and Jacob’s partnership. It was designed that way; it’s not the way the record plays out. I wrote all of the principle themes, the underpinnings of all the compositions, as an imagined score to some sort of a sequel to The Ice Storm. I don’t know exactly how it would play out with Rick Moody. The first one was really successful. I have this idea for a similar type of movie that takes place in contemporary California and all these cues I can use as a mood board. Like, let’s sit down and figure out what this palate is. Let’s write a movie around it. That’s what I was thinking.

SILY: You wrote a lot of this while on tour. Had you conceived of the idea before then and wrote while on tour because of your downtime, or was the downtime the launching point for the idea?

JF: I was totally inspired by the idea. I started some of the themes that popped up, but once the actual Ice Storm Ang Lee idea came to mind, it was really generative. It’s how a lot of this stuff works with me. It kind of floats around for a while, reaching out this way or that. Once the real kernel appears, it’s like, “That’s it!” It all happens pretty quickly. That was definitely the case with this. It was the real fine-tuning that’s the most time consuming. That’s what Jacob and I have experienced. The EP that we’re releasing later this year, basically how it’s worked so far is I send him a sequence of chords and basic rhythm, which happens pretty quickly. Then--and we’ve only done it on Zoom with the new EP, though it was the same with “Life at One”--there was this theme. Jacob came in, we were gonna write some other stuff. He came in with a mic and sang some stacked harmonies. Then it’s carving out all the other elements around that to make it. 

These are unconventional compositions. They’re meant to accompany visual ideas. With that in mind, cues and scoring music doesn’t always work in recorded music, traditionally speaking. There’s all these lengths, sometimes time signatures shift, a melody might exist in an unconventional way to fit what’s happening visually. I really wanted to embrace that. With “Life at One”, Jacob did all this stuff, and there’s this really interesting sound I don’t know how to describe. He asked, “What are those over there?” [My partner Natasha Wheat] had made these ceramic bells for me, and that’s the most fun part about working with Jacob. A lot of the people who are trained as Jacob is--and I say this with great admiration for his abilities--are stuck in certain modalities. This is a perfect example. He looked at the bells and said, “Let’s do that.” He grabbed a drumstick and played the edge of these bells and processed them. That was a big feature in the composition of “Life at One”. This all happens very thematically and reflexively, but to then carve it up and get it to have purpose, meaning, ebb, and flow and make it work visually--that’s where the dirty shit happens. [laughs] I also look forward to when Jacob and I can be in person more. We’ve made a lot happen over the past 7 months, but it’s hard when you’re not in the same room. Plus, I’d like to show off. If he’s sitting right next to me, play some fast guitar...[laughs]

SILY: The title of the record refers to various aspects of topography, and there are song titles that refer to specific places, like “Fort Wayne” and “Lake Superior”. Do these aspects exist within the narrative of the film?

JF: “Lake Superior” and “Fort Wayne” were just started in those places, literally. I picture the Ang Lee movie--the new Ang Lee movie that is inevitably gonna take form because he’s gonna hear me and Jacob’s music and think, “You’re right, we gotta do this,”--in this zone a little bit east of Berkeley. It’s the West Coast equivalent of the Connecticut zone where The Ice Storm exists. It’s this affluent, green place. But the reason I chose to keep the others as titles is like, Fort Wayne, that’s pretty grand and has Batman implications. And Lake Superior, what a fucking great name for a lake, you know? I like the power of those, and if I were sitting down and writing a movie, those titles could be at least generative of a conversation.

SILY: What about the other song titles? What inspired them?

JF: “The Concept” is literally the concept for our band. The concept has expanded since then, but out of the ordinary--no sounds are out of the ordinary in modern production--but in the film scoring landscape, out of the ordinary, ambient, or textural sounds. But then big, beautiful melodies. Jacob’s voice. All that stuff. Synthesizing our two strengths. Jacob’s also a songwriter and makes amazing songs, but my background’s in bands, and so I treat our relationship as if it’s a band. Taking our two strengths. Jacob’s more conventionally trained, schooled, and knowledgeable than I am. He has a richer depth of knowledge in theory and orchestration. I can arrange that way, but he knows what’s going on. Mine is more reflexive--I don’t want to say auto-didactic because that’s kind of an arrogant term--but learning through mistakes. I think Jacob’s made fewer mistakes than I have.

SILY: What were all the instruments used on the record?

JF: There’s a lot of found stuff. 12-string guitar. I was writing it using this Rosewood Fender Stratocaster that Fender made for me. The 12-string is prominent on “Life At One”. There’s a piano Jacob played. There’s a lot of me coming up with drum beats. A lot of the initial stuff was in the box. I’d roll in my portable studio backstage, I’d have a guitar, Universal Audio space, whatever drums and synths I had.

SILY: What is your background in film scoring?

JF: I don’t have a specific background. From a very early age, I’ve been into film scores. I’d buy them starting when I was 15 or 16. CDs. Pretty obvious releases, but things like Danny Elfman’s Batman score, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Sort of getting into Jerry Goldsmith. Elfman, Morricone. I like some of the Bernard Hermann stuff. I started studying it from the way I study everything: figuring out chord sequences, the way the melodies work, to the degree I was able. In the early 2010s, I was making a lot of music that was getting licensed for TV. Once Modest Mouse really started touring [2015 album] Strangers to Ourselves, I let a lot of those pursuits wither a little bit. But I’d always longed for a collaboration. A lot of that stuff was done in a solitary way, so I felt very fortunate when Jacob and I met. He was into that idiom but has a range of skills I don’t have. We also really work well together. All the reflexive stuff that happens, the melodies, it’s easy for us to go back and forth and see what we’re into and where to keep going. Neither of us get upset when the other person isn’t feeling whatever the direction is.

As I get older, I realize the value of stimulating multiple senses. I look forward to Jacob and I doing more of this stuff in collaboration with people. The Riley Thompson video for “Life At One” was him responding to a finished track, but in an ideal world, filmmakers would come to us and, in the way Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross work with David Fincher, where he says, “This is the concept for the new film,” and Jacob and I come back and say, “This is the sonic and melodic landscape we’re thinking of, and here are some character cues. Let’s take it from there.” I love being in conversation with people collaboratively and am attracted to the idea of it across media.

SILY: Do you think the idea that the music might not be responding to a finished film would make the score stand on its own more as a piece of music?

JF: The scores that I like totally stand on their own as music. When Morricone passed away, I read that John Zorn had a quote when they were hanging out in the late 80′s or early 90′s, Zorn said, “Don’t do it unless you’re thinking about what the soundtrack record is gonna be like.” The music needs to be cool enough to just be music.

SILY: Tell me about the album art.

JF: Natasha and I sold our place in Los Angeles last year and moved to Ojai. We thought it was a temporary transition, and now it’s somewhat permanent, because we bought a place here. We’ve been in this guesthouse next door since November. I like taking pictures at night with whatever ambient light [there is], so I took that picture from our place. I wanted there to be contrast with this technicolor paint and silver border on the upper and lower parts of the image. Homes are very interesting to me, and there’s a lot of that in The Ice Storm. There’s that shelf people look at from the outside and think, “It could be dilapidated, it could be beautiful.” People think of it as a thing. But there’s this whole other world that only exists inside of there. It’s always fascinating to me when walking by the place. Stories in the shell. I like the idea of a structure having implications. I don’t have an agenda for what those implications might be, but I like the idea that there could be implications there.

SILY: Jacob, when Jim came to you with this idea, how aware were you of The Ice Storm?

Jacob Snider: I had seen it. I don’t know if in our first meeting, it came up that specifically and clearly that this is where the music was going. In fact, it started more as a casual meeting of creative types. When I came over to Jim’s studio, he just showed me the latest thing he was working on without any huge idea behind it expressed to me in that moment. Jim might have been thinking it in that moment, but that day was more, “Alright, I’m working on something, what do you hear and is there something you think you could contribute to it?” It was really organic. Like Jim mentioned before, the best thing you can do when making something is show it to somebody else, because they’re gonna hear it in a different way or they might suggest something if you’re open to it. People can make amazing solitary music, but it will always be just their thing. You bring in someone else, there’s a different energy, a different perspective. 

As it stands, I do love that film. It’s really haunting. Jim and I talked before that it’s not a movie you can watch every week. It’s heavy, and the themes are deep: family, loss, grief, betrayal. It’s a great one. I think it’s a movie that’s cinematic but also has a lot of depth. I think that’s what we’re going for with Small Isles. It has shades of film music but also shades of rock and roll and romantic string writing from the orchestral traditions. I think we’re trying to combine a few things at once, and we’re really curious how it starts to strike people and how some filmmakers respond to it.

SILY: Are you both generally Ang Lee fans?

JF: I haven’t devoured all of his work. There’s plenty I like. But I’m so in love with [The Ice Storm]. I was in love with the book before the movie came out. He treated it so beautifully. As high in the sky as it is for two nascent film composers to say, “I want to work with Ang Lee,” it’s very important to know where you want to go. It may take a long time to get there, but [it’s important] to have a place where you’re headed. That was definitely the case in the early Grandaddy days, and having watched [Modest Mouse lead singer] Isaac [Brock] for as long as I did, I think it was the case there, too. It may not be as specific knowing that I’m traveling in this direction, but that direction can totally change. There can be diversions that knock you off your course positively or negatively, but thinking about how beautifully he treated that material, that’s where I want to go.

SILY: How are you adapting Small Isles to a live performance?

JF: We’re gonna play at least some of this, maybe all of this live. I’m really looking forward to it. Jacob’s only on half this record, and the 5-song EP we’re releasing later this year, he’s on all of. That’s a straight-up 50/50 collaboration. I’m looking forward to the stuff Jacob didn’t contribute to on the record, hearing what he does with strings. We’re still figuring out how we’re gonna approach it. Jacob will be on keys and vocals, and I might sing a little bit. I’ll be on guitar. Our friend Sienna who Jacob went to school with, who’s doing the strings, we’re talking about having her lead a double string quartet. I would like to have a drummer doing some electronic drums and maybe a kit as well. I definitely don’t imagine we’ll totally nail it on night 1. There’s a lot of stuff we have to work out. There aren’t many antecedents in this zone, but something like Explosions in the Sky mixed with Johann Johannsson. I saw [the latter] in 2010 in San Francisco; there was a little bit of strings, various electronics, and he was on piano. That was a very striking performance. So the explosiveness of a big arena rock show with lots of subtleties and nuance that can come from strings and orchestral.

SILY: What else is next for Small Isles?

JF: We wanna finish this EP. I also really love the way a lot of rap and hip-hop people have gotten it right over the years. Using current listening habits and technology to get out as much music as possible. I definitely have the seeds for at least another EP behind this. Once we get this EP done--there’s just a little bit of tinkering to be done over the next month before going into the mixing stage--I want to make as much music as possible and release it. With the spirits of the world willing, I want to get off the ground live and collaborate with filmmakers, dancers, artists, people in the visual medium. I just love making music with Jacob and this type of music. I’d like to have a few releases a year. EP length [or] album length. I have a number of concepts written down. The seeds that Jacob and I have been playing with to make the EP. I was thinking about The Last Black Man in San Francisco when making this EP, and I’d love to collaborate with those filmmakers. Even just being in person, to tell Jacob, “What do you think of this sequence?” and have him respond without dealing with latency issues and dodgy DSL.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

Jacob Snider: I’ve been listening to a lot of pop. I’ve been listening to the Olivia Rodrigo record [Sour]. I think there’s great writing on there, great production. Watching, I’ll just piggyback on The Last Black Man in San Francisco. It took me a while to finally see it, but I had a filmmaker friend tell me I had to, and I loved it. Also the other film Emile Mosseri did the score for, Kajillionaire, the Miranda July film. Reading-wise, I’m about to jump back into Louise Erdrich’s The Round House.

JF: I’ve been digging the Olivia record, too.

JS: There’s some cool strings on there too from the guy who does a lot of the strings for Portugal. The Man, [Paul Cartwright]. They created a string orchestra sound with just one guy layering violin and viola, which is really cool, and that’s what we’re doing with our collaborator Sienna Peck. There’s totally room for that now, the way the world has been so remote. We can’t put 16 players in a room right now due to public health restrictions, so let’s get one person. It’s really hard to do--you can be a great violinist and not be able to layer yourself in a way that makes it sound like a string orchestra. You have to change your position in the room, the way you’re playing slightly, pretend to be three different people sharing a stand. That’s what you’ll hear on the next record.

JF: I just got into How to Change Your Mind, the Michael Pollan book about psychedelics, which I really loved. I just started a book called The Magic Years, which is about child development. I have a three-and-a-half-year-old son, and I’m very fascinated by what’s going on in his brain and what makes him make the decisions he makes. Just how to be a better dad. I am always a religious reader of The New Yorker, every week it comes out. Natasha and I watched The Kids, a documentary [about the making of Larry Clark’s Kids]. When that movie came out, Grandaddy were skateboarders, so it was important to us. But even as a young kid, I felt that it was really exploitative, and the documentary verifies it. It’s heartbreaking. Larry Clark is a really derelict dude. Truly lecherous. But [The Kids] is a beautiful movie. We’ve been watching Los Espookys. I’m really excited about Vince Staples’ upcoming record. My friend Nik Freitas put out a new song. My musical diet’s gotten really regressive in a way because my son is very into the Super Furry Animals record Radiator. It’s all he wants to listen to in the car.

#small isles #akp recordings #the valley the mountains the sea #dustin aksland #jim fairchild #grandaddy #modest mouse #jacob snider #ang lee #the ice storm #rick moody #sienna peck #explosions in the sky #olivia rodrigo #sour #danny elfman #batman #the good the bad and the ugly #jerry goldsmith #ennio morricone #bernard hermann #strangers to ourselves #riley thompson #trent reznor #atticus ross #david fincher #john zorn #isaac brock #johann johannsson #the last black man in san francisco

[7-wonders]

Try (Just a Little Bit Harder)

Summary: You have to do arguably the hardest thing you’ve ever done: apologize to Michael.

Word Count: 2121

A/N: Short chapter (short for me, at least) today. Sorry for the wait, hope you guys don’t hate me! Enjoy, and if you did I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblogged!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE | Read Everything All At Once (part ten) HERE

Dealing with complex emotions is not one of your strong suits. Typically, when feelings that you would rather not experience come up in your life, you handle it one of two ways. One, you talk through it with your friends, that way you’re not alone. Two, you bury those feelings deep down inside of you where they’ll hopefully never see the light of day again. Unfortunately, you’re well aware that using option number two is neither healthy nor conducive to solving the problem that you’re facing, which is why you’re sitting at a small coffee shop with Kate and Mallory. It almost feels a bit like you’re under interrogation; the two are sitting across from you, trying to engage in a staring contest as you stare down at your drink. 

“So this isn’t about the mysterious man--”

“Michael,” Kate interrupts Mallory helpfully.

“Right. This isn’t about the Michael that we met at Colin and Noel’s party?”

“No, it’s not! Michael’s just a friend.” Kate and Mallory exchange glances, both weighing whether or not to call you on your blatant lie. 

“Okay, then. So you asked to meet up with us so you can talk about the problems that you’re having with some other guy?” Kate asks.

“Yeah.” You had been deliberately vague when you texted the pair, not wanting to get too into details when you believe Michael still has some sort of software that allows him to see what’s on your phone. “So I know that he likes me, as in he really likes me. But I don’t know if I feel the same way about him, and it scares me what that would mean if I did like someone like him.”

“‘Someone like him?’” 

“It’s...complicated, but he’s done a lot of bad things in his life. So has his entire family, actually.”

“How bad are we talking? Murder? Tax fraud? Is he in the mob?” Mallory elbows Kate to get her to stop talking. 

“I think what Kate’s asking is how reprehensible the things he’s done are.”

“They’re,” you pause, thinking how best to describe the Antichrist without revealing who it is you’re talking about, “definitely not going to win him a Nobel Peace Prize.”

“I’m not gonna judge you based on who you like, but damn girl!” Kate says approvingly. “Why are you scared about liking him?”

“What does that say about me, if I can have romantic feelings for a person who has done terrible things like he has?”

The two are silent as they try to come up with an answer that would properly answer your question. Maybe it’s your own fault for asking them to help you with such a monumental question. The silence stretches on for long enough that you’re getting ready to apologize for wasting their time, leave, and never see them again.

“You’re not a bad person just because of who you like or don’t like,” Luckily, Mallory speaks before the plans you’ve made while worrying you’ve inconvenienced your friends start to sound like a good idea. 

“Mal’s right. If you like him, then you like him. You can’t help that,” Kate says. 

“But I don’t know if I do like him,” you sigh.

“(Y/N), I’m saying this because we’re friends, but you need to allow yourself to be loved and cared for by other people. You’re always so closed off, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s okay to be vulnerable around people.”

“I’m vulnerable!”

“I tried to connect with you for a month before that party at Stadium House. You were always nice to me, but you never put time into wanting to make a new friend.”

“I...I didn’t know, Kate.”

She waves a hand in the air nonchalantly. “It’s fine now because I wore you down, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to act like that just because that’s how you think you need to be. You’re allowed to have friends, and relationships, and to share your feelings just because you want to. Feelings can be scary, especially when you’re having them for a person who, objectively, may not be the greatest. What matters, though, is how he treats you.”

“We didn’t like each other much when we first met,” of course, that dislike was one-sided, a fact that they don’t have to know, “but now...he treats me very well. Last night, though, I said some things that I shouldn’t have said to him. They were mean, and totally out-of-line, but I was angry and I ended up using personal information that he’s told me to insult him.”

“That is tough, but I think you need to just apologize. Say sorry, tell him why you felt the need to say those things at that time, and just make sure he knows that you didn’t mean it,” Mallory says.

“And then go for it! Get your man!” Kate nearly yells across the table, a grin on her face.

“Maybe, though, you shouldn’t…” Mallory says cautiously. 

“What?” You don’t bother to hide your shock at being given the complete opposite advice than what you were told.

“Well, you said he’s a bad person. It’s okay to like him, but maybe don’t act on those feelings. Just keep your distance, and maybe then the feelings will go away.”

“Mallory, that’s terrible advice,” Kate chides. 

“I’m just being honest. You never know what kind of trouble (Y/N) could get into if she continues to associate with a guy like that.” Her brown eyes, while normally wise, hold something darker within their depths, something that tells you she knows something that you don’t. You tilt your head, suddenly suspicious, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

“What kind of trouble could I--” you’re cut off by Kate’s phone chiming, the tension breaking along with the conversation.

“Oh shit, I have to be at work in an hour. If I’m late again then my boss will literally have my head served on a platter instead of the food. Mal, if you want a ride back then we’re gonna have to leave.”

“I can give Mallory a ride.” You want to talk to her more, interrogate her as to what she knows.

“No, that’s fine,” Mallory stands along with Kate, “I’m sure where I’m staying would be out of your way. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

You stand as well, not wanting to be the person that sits in a coffee shop alone. Making your way out with Mallory and Kate, you slide your jacket on to hide from the oddly brisk summer morning. 

“Hey,” Kate grabs you arm, “just be honest with him. That’s the best thing you can do, and I think he’ll really appreciate that.”

Nodding, you smile as Kate hugs you with the arm that she’s already got wrapped around you. “Thank you. I’ll let you guys know how it goes,” you pause when looking at Mallory, still trying to figure out the meaning behind what she said to you. The mysterious woman stares back at you with eyes painted in smoky tones before turning away, walking down the street with Kate and leaving you with a chill down your spine.

//

The manor is silent when you arrive back at home, which was to be expected. Michael Langdon, you’ve learned, reacts to being upset by either exploding in rage or remaining completely silent and withdrawing from everything. After last night, where he thanked you for your honesty, you knew that it would be the latter. Shockingly, however, he’s not in his office. You had barged in after a minute of knocking and asking if it would be okay for you to come in, only to end up with no response. When you opened the door, the room was devoid of any sign that Michael would be in there.

He’s not in the kitchen, or one of the living rooms, or even in your room. Thinking for a moment, you decide to head to a place you’ve only been allowed into once: Michael’s bedroom. You reach the large oak door of his bedroom, pausing in front of it to run your fingers along the delicately engraved upside-down pentagram before knocking. 

“Michael?” you call quietly. “Can I come in? I just want to talk.”

There’s no response, but the door does open of its own accord. You take that as an invitation, and step inside to Michael’s personal quarters for the second time. His back is to you as he sits fully-clothed in his regular suit on top of the bed, the curtains nearly shuttered so only the smallest hint of light filters through. Sliding your shoes off, you get onto the bed and crawl towards him. He still doesn’t look at you, not even flinching when you wrap your arms tightly around him from behind to smother him in a hug.

“Look, you know that I’m not good at talking about feelings, or emotions. That’s arguably the one thing I’m better at than you, actually,” you laugh quietly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was rude, and uncalled for, and came from a place of anger and fear. I’m so sorry, Michael, what I did to you wasn’t right.”

He takes a moment before he speaks, “maybe you were right. Maybe I’m just the Antichrist, and nothing more. I can...pretend to be a person with likes, dislikes, personality, but I’m still just the Antichrist who murders, and hurts people, and will continue to do that until I eventually end the world.”

“You’re not just an evil being, though. You do have likes, dislikes, and a personality, even if that personality can be annoying sometimes,” you joke.

“How would you know? It’s not like you know anything about me.”

“I know tons about you!”

“Like what? That I have a proclivity for overdressing and a hell of a temper?” The temptation to snort at Michael’s use of the word ‘hell’ goes over your head.

“No.” Shifting, you straddle Michael’s hips so that you’re sitting on top of him, forcing him to look at you.

“(Y/N), get off of me.” He’s quiet, refusing to get angry when he looks at you.

“Your favorite flavor of ice cream is mint chocolate chip and you have a secret sweet tooth. You love cats, you can complete a Rubik’s Cube in thirty seconds, and you’re really awkward at parties.” He smiles slightly at you, blue eyes starting to become cloudy with tears he’s desperate to hold back. “You’re kind, and really sweet when you want to be. I had to teach you how a hug works and you keep information stored in your brain like you’re a computer. You had a really shitty childhood and nobody loved you, but that’s okay because I’m going to teach you how to be loved.”

“But I thought--”

“Love...doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be familial, or platonic, or even two people that were forced into a marriage together who are kind of friends now. It’s you and me now, Michael, whether we like it or not.” You’re more than a little shocked when Michael puts his chin on top of your head and hugs you tightly, the wetness on your hair the only sign that he’s crying.

“I love you,” he mutters.

Truthfully, you reply, “I love you, too.” Both of you are aware that you each have a different version of love behind your declarations, but you’re both alright with that.

“I shouldn’t have asked you if you would ever fall for me romantically last night, that was uncalled for and I’m sorry.”

“I won’t say that it’ll happen, because I just don’t know. Right now, however, if you’re okay with it, I’d just like to get to know you and be friends with you.”

Michael nods. “I can live with that. I can’t say that I won't attempt to win you over, because I will, but I can live with being friends.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, laughing into Michael’s shoulder when he flips you around so he’s hovering above you. It’s a situation that feels familiar, and his smile warming you serves to let you know that everything is okay again.

“Do you think that friends can get friend kisses from each other?” Michael asks cheekily.

“No!” 

You shove him off of you, both of you laughing when he lands next to you. Laying side by side, you stare up at the ceiling as you think of how happy you are to not be fighting with Michael anymore. The man in question, however, lays next to you and thinks about making his next visit to dear old dad tonight.

//

@sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonslove @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @tcc-gizmachine @90sroger @gold-dragon-slayer @atombombastic @lvngdvns @nsainmoonchild @trelaney @blakewaterxx

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagine #american horror story imagines

[infinitesolarflare]

10-1-0: An Incarnate’s Tale

Oh, forgive me, I see there is some information you'd need for this, well my name is Sullivan Koji. I am the one who has taken over the quest of saving our lives, in our world man has been turning a blind eye for too long. There are few selected humans to be one of the "World Walkers". Being a World Walker means you have achieved the highest level of concentration, determination, and compassion.

I guess you should understand, the common conception of time, and the universe as we know it are wrong. Long ago mages, like us humans were created, there purpose was to save the earth from certain destruction. They lived long lives, and as the mages grew old, they became corrupt. This is when man truly entered the dark ages. As the mages battled one another they discovered that after killing a mage he would burn a bright red, then dissolve. The particles of what once made up the mages were thrown farther than any human could ever imagine. These particles are what humans know as stars. Gazing at stars is a human activity with a far greater importance than they know. The mages attempt to communicate with the World Walkers through this, to find if there are any left.

Now, this is where things fall into place. There were 10 mages each holding a section of the Portal. The Portal is the one thing given to the mages so they can infinitely travel in all directions. My mission, embody the mages, become the one and only Mage left. I have been chosen because what the common man takes as a dream, or nightmare is actually a tool. A tool so useful it takes years before one can even view another world.

The one goal for man is to reach the year, ZERO. Once there man can live at peace, without war, death, poverty, hunger, and hatreds. The ones who the mages see fit to achieve peace are reincarnated every 400 years or so, these souls have purpose, they are meant to reach ZERO. Common people are pawns in the world games of chess. Those souls are reincarnated almost every second of every day. Useless people, unworthy of the true paradise, some call it heaven, others don't believe in it. I have not been there, but I've seen it. My goal for now is to build the portal, show humans what life is supposed to be....

This is almost the end of our lesson together, I Sullivan Koji, have been reincarnated only 3 times so far. This is my story, these are my trials, my tests, and my tears. To reach ZERO I must concentrate once within each universe of the infinite universes. The Old Mages War took place on an open plain, which was the only universe at one time. When the High Mage Geishino was murdered his energy, not only burned a hole into time itself but also exploded into all directions, which we know as The Big Bang. Now there were 7 mages after the High Mage. They traveled throughout all universes, battling one another, the 10 portal pieces are somewhere within them, I WILL find them....

The radio in Sullivan's room is playing Good Times Bad Times by Led Zeppelin. He has been awake for 3 days, his eyes are bloodshot, his eyes water as he sits up. "where do I go today?" his thoughts seem as though they were talking to him aloud. Sullivan has only a few friends who understand his destiny. His life long friends, and blood brothers, James Blackard and Micheal Himaru. Sullivan, from an early age displayed signs of being the World Walker this universe needed. His friends thought he was short a few screws. As we entered highschool, I stared to understand what I was...who I was. I confided in them all that I discovered and they wanted to join me in my quest. Before they could do this I needed to explore how to travel through universes.

FEBRUARY 13, 2019

Friday, 06:17

"Its already time to start, ugh this will be a long day." I focused harder and with more energy than the day before, I attempted to complete my first Walk. I sat in complete silence, in a dark room. Which was located in the basement of my parents house, I was only 17 still. As my breathing slowed, and my pulse crawled to almost a complete stop, the very first visible portal appeared in front of me. And just as quickly as it came, it was gone...vanished into the abyss. "All that fucking work, just to have it amount to nothing" I was beyond frustrated at my poor performance at keeping my cool.

FEBRUARY 13, 2019

09:14

I walked out of the basement room, my eyes squinted almost completely shut from the glow of the sun. It was an abnormally warm and sunny day, usually the frozen tundra of which was once new England was gloomy, and around 10* at all times and just a terrible place to be. This is where I called home, this depressing wasteland of no bodies. Today the sun was in full force and it was a scorching 47*. It reminded me of when I was younger, in 2013 there were swimming pools, beach days, and ice cream trucks. That all became history in 2016, the poles reversed their magnetic fields and plunged the northern hemisphere into an ice age, at the same time causing uncontrollable droughts in the southern hemisphere. With scientific advances skyrocketing in the previous years, we genetically enhanced the human races' ability to adapt to changing environments. 22% of Earths population took to the adaptations well, the other 78% died. They all just died, deteriorating to unknown people of what seemed like a time long ago. These are the most important people to my research, proving most humans are just pawns in a war they could never comprehend.

FEBRUARY 13, 2019

11:43

"uh, I am stuffed" there was no response from my abandoned kitchen. Everyone I know, everyone I loved, gone, they never made it through the treatments. There was no known location of James or Michael, or even if they were alive... I thought of them everyday, they were my drive, the reason I kept myself from killing myself. "Today is the day I find my location for my new home, a research lab, something I can control completely. Underground, deep, safe from the environment, somewhere I can keep myself and others I find alive. I gather my gear, put on my jacket, and leave.

FEBRUARY 13

13:17

I walk through the wasteland and look at the building that were once stores, shops, restaurants, and malls. " I wonder which of these will be my lab? These all were places I used to go as a kid, I even worked at a few of them. I can't believe this was all destroyed in just 3 years.. I miss my old life." I came upon the WalMart near what used to be Springfield Massachusetts. I searched for an entrance, everything was locked, boarded up, and chained together. I wander around, coming across the outdoor section of the garden center. I look through the prison like gate, which once housed flowers, lawn mowers, and all the things you could ever need for gardening. "this is how I'm gonna do it!" I pry the gate open at one of the sliding sections of gate. I squeeze through and the gate, clashes against itself as I stand up. I walk to the door and discover a door, no chains, no boards...no locks. I back up about 30 yards, sprint full force into the door. It crashes open, when I readjust to the new surrounding, I am overcome with joy, hope, and a feeling of accomplishment. The abandoned WalMart was lit up, it had power! "Finally, I have found a suitable place to get started on my lab!" The shelves were still stocked with tools, electronics, food (which was mostly useless at this point), and clothing! I wander the empty store, looking for tools to aid my needs. I go to gardening and grab a pickaxe, shovel, and a wheel barrel. I go to the shoes section of the store, rip the shelves down and throw the shoes aside. After I clear myself a space of about 30ft by 30ft I begin my tunneling.

FEBRUARY 13

15:25

"Wow, this is harder than I expected" I had only accomplished a depth of about one foot on the square area. I knew I needed help...but from who? No one was around, I hadn't talked to a human in 743 days. "Fuck this, it'll never work, its not worth it!" I through down my shovel, stormed out of WalMart and hiked home.

I was tired from my failed excavation, I felt disappointed, like I had just failed my drivers test. "SULLIVAN!?" said a familiar sounding voice as I walked down my dirt road. I snapped around with intent to shoot whoever it was, as I drew my gun I smiled, shed a tear, and dropped it. "Michael? I have been searching for you since the day the world froze over...is it really you?" "yes sully, its me. I left my home in Florida to come see if you lived through this nightmare." "wow, I can't believe it, your actually here, you came back..." "well believe it, I'm here and I know James is around still, he told me he was going to his vacation house for a few years, I knew we would all meet up one day." well we need to find him! I hope he's alive.." as we entered my house, Micheal stopped at the front door, and he removed his shoes, just as my mother always wanted. "so where are your parents?" Michael said with a caring tone. "dead. They died once the ice appeared." Michael's face dropped to one of guilt, "I'm sorry Sull..." "Don't, its fine." I just

finished making tea, I went to the cabinet and grabbed the sugar. "still drink yours with 3 sugars mike?" "I see you haven't forgotten a damn thing sully, sharp as always."

CHAPTER 2

A SUCCESSFUL ENDEAVOR

As the sun rose from what seemed to be an unending night, Mike and I unbolted the lock's from our shelter, which had finally been w q the week before, the WalMart was now the number one safezone for surviving. Or so I thought, as we entered the isles of rundown old equipment, the smell of stale food and the sound of mice filled the store. Everything that was once civilization has been turned to rubble, the common man no longer has beliefs, morals, or

#writing #concepts #why bother

[crowned-ladybug]

Windowsill Hyacinths

And the other OC thing! Bc i promised

When is my writing not, but still, this one is just entirely self-indulgent. Writing’s fun!

OC blog is @menagerie-of-morons

Characters: Jackie, Marvin

Setting: main verse

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: periods (the unpleasant biology kind, punctuation is kind of a given I think)

These are OCs, please keep that in mind and respect it.

Neither of them are morning people. Thank goodness, otherwise Marvin doesn’t know how he could tolerate this living arrangement. But usually Jackie is still up before he is, and even though it’s only been two weeks since they moved in together, Marvin is already pleasantly used to waking up to the shower running.

Except this time he woke on his own, which is lovely for a Saturday actually. But it’s also weird, because it’s a break in an unsaid routine, and broken routine makes him anxious.

He hesitates at the door of Jackie’s room before he knocks, hoping it’s quiet enough that it doesn’t wake him if he’s just sleeping in (and Jackie either sleeps like a bear during winter or lighter than store-brand tissue paper, there’s no in-between, so his chances are still better than none at least). There’s a moment or two of silence before he gets a response – a long groan, unclear whether distressed or just too lazy to talk.

“You okay, my dude?” Marvin smiles, hoping the answer will be along the lines of ‘I just woke up and it’s too early and how dare does the Sun exist’. Instead what he gets is the most noncommital and obviously fake ‘I’m fine’ he’s ever heard in his life. “Can I come in?”

To little surprise and much more relief, he’s granted permission.

He finds Jackie curled up in his bed, forming an amorphous pile with his sheets and pillows and plushies, his disastrous bedhead and barely-open eyes just about poking out from under. He mumbles a ‘hey’ when Marvin enters, though it comes out barely audible thanks to the duvet he doesn’t bother to pull away from in front of his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackie just sinks deeper into his pillow and closes his eyes fully. For a moment Marvin thinks the little groan he lets out will be the only response he gets, but then he finally speaks. “Uterus bad.”

“Oh, damn,” Marvin sighs, and he finally shuts the door behind himself and makes his way over to the bed. Looks like poor Jackie’s period is hitting bad again, and it’s not surprising considering all the stress of moving just two weeks prior, but it still sucks. “Can I sit?”

Jackie just nods, and so Marvin picks up the stuffed sheep he finds fallen off the bed, and sits. Jackie fishes out one of his hands from under his mess of sheets and makes grabby hands at Marvin until he receives said sheep, and he hugs it, tucking it under his chin.

“Do you need anything.”

“A different set of reproductive organs, please...” he groans again, because that seems to be one of three things he can reliable do right now, but there’s finally some humour to his tone at least.

Marvin grins, and he’s pretty sure Jackie smiles back, though it’s hard to tell with so much in the way. “I don’t think they sell those at the grocery store.”

“Damn.”

Marvin gives a sympathetic hum and he reaches out to rub his poor, suffering friend’s shoulder. Jackie closes his eyes for a moment.

“Is there anything else you’d like then?”

“Hmm...” he opens his eyes again, and adjusts himself so that his face is less in the pillow now and more turned towards Marvin, for the sake of a better conversation experience. “I don’t know...painkillers, maybe?”

In the end that list grows to painkillers, the heating pad, a nice, warm drink and some snacks, and while he’s at it, Marvin checks if they’ve got enough pads too. Just because they moved in weeks ago, it doesn’t mean Jackie couldn’t have forgotten to bring enough in the first place.

And he’s so right. He scribbles it on the shopping list during his pass in the kitchen.

As a bonus reward from his fetch quests, he also gives Jackie a gentle lecture on how he needs to learn to ask for what he needs instead of downplaying the list to a single, easy-to-get item. It’s good that this isn’t the first period Marvin’s ever seen, but he’d very much prefer to just ask Jackie what he needs than guess it. Jackie looks sufficiently sorry, and Marvin reassures him that it’s okay, it’s just a work in progress (because the last thing he wants is to screw with the poor guy’s already messy emotions), and in the end Jackie ends up adding a new element to his list of current needs – a hug.

He’s granted that, in a kind of roundabout way, when Marvin lies down next to him (because the painkillers have yet to work their magic, and so Jackie doesn’t want to do anything but lie curled around the hot pad) and they cuddle for a while, a little clumsy and complicated, because there’s so many things on the bed to be mindful of now. But Jackie gets his craved physical affection, and he sinks back into a pleasant, half-asleep state as the pain starts to lessen, comfortable in the warmth of the hot pad and the way Marvin’s fingers slide through his hair in an imperfect rhythm. He listens to the in-depth discussions his friend has with some of his plushies, words fading in and out of the edges of his consciousness.

Marvin is grateful as all fuck for Saturdays, because that means neither of them have things to do and places to be. Jackie can stay in bed and eat comfort food as much as he wants, and Marvin can hang out with him and make sure he’s okay and also do the shopping before he forgets.

He eventually gets around to doing the latter too, traversing the thankfully not insanely crowded isles of the supermarket. He’s having a good leg day, so he only brought one crutch, and even that’s sitting in the cart now. He can hold his weight just fine for now and lean on the cart for a few moments if he can’t.

He gets regular, boring kind of groceries, like milk and bread and spices, because there’s always ones running out. Then he heads for the isle that holds sweets, most importantly chocolate-based sweets, and this time it’s not for his own pleasure. He ends up with three different kinds of chocolate piled into the cart after long, careful examination and consideration of all options. Jackie definitely deserves to treat himself to some good sweets.

He skids to a stop (fairly literally, because what sort of person would he be if he didn’t skate with the cart from time to time) at the end of the isle when he notices a selection of jars and bottles with carefully layered various powders and chocolate chips in them. He grins. Jackie loves baking, he’d surely love these funky little “cookie recipe in a bottle” thingies too. He sifts through the selection until he finds one with a nice recipe that doesn’t have pink bows, people in skirts and the last century’s ideal housewife on them, and piles it on top of the chocolate.

Pads are probably the toughest to get from the whole list. Not because he feels shame and a threat to his masculinity looking at period products, because he’s way past his “utter dumbass” phase in this regard, and if he feared for his masculinity so much, he wouldn’t wear skirts half as often. No, it’s because the one very important detail he managed to forget to jot down is the brand and make of the damn things. So now he’s faced with a whole wall of pads and racking his brain for what they looked like when he saw Jackie stash them in their own little box in the bathroom two weeks ago.

Except they all look the same – pink for day, dark blue for night – and the only differences he can spot in this visually uninteresting display are the brand names and prices.

He’d go for cheapest, but – really? It’d make sense, except who knows which of these things is actually comfortable and, like, good at its job? The price surely doesn’t. And Jackie wears boxers, do these things even work with those?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts for a moment when another person – long hair, dress, delicate make-up, all in all feminine-looking – enters the isle and gives him a look that’s...friendly? Friendly people in a supermarket, would you look at that! They’re probably pleasantly surprised by seeing someone on the more masculine end of the scale shopping for these things.

Finally, he admits his defeat and pulls out his phone to text Jackie.

But at least he gets the needed information quickly, and Jackie is sympathetic about him not remembering (“These things all look the same...” “I know, right?!”) and shoves two night and two day packs into the cart, because the particular brand is on sale anyway.

He gets off the bus a stop early to walk the rest of the way, the bag of groceries floating by his side with his magic. The weather isn’t nice just yet, and the wind that whips around him sometimes is cutting, but he enjoys a little walk. More importantly, he’s very much aware that there’s a flower shop on the way.

He stops in front of the shop, appreciating the stock through the window as he pulls out his phone, opting to call instead of text this time. He hates to ruin the surprise, but…

“Hey, did you get lost in the supermarket or something?” Jackie laughs into the speaker as soon as he picks up. It’s nice to hear that he’s feeling better now.

Marvin snorts. “Shut up. I wanted to ask how you dysphoria is doing today?”

“Pretty okay, surprisingly,” there’s rusting from the other end, Jackie adjusting his position wherever he is. “Hasn’t been bitching much yet.”

“Nice!” it is nice. He’ll definitely celebrate that. “Would it get ticked off by flowers, though?”

There’s a beat of silence as Jackie processes the unexpected question. “No, I don’t think it would. I love flowers, I’ve gotten over most of the social bullshit around them already,” he stops, then his tone shifts. “Marvin, what are you-”

“Shh, you heard nothing from me! I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t end up making you feel worse on accident.”

Jackie refuses to hush just yet though. “Dude, I swear, if you’re buying me flowers just because my organs are back on their bullshit, I’m-”

“Listen,” Marvin cuts in, and he’s rewarded by silence immediately. “It’s my money and I can spend it however I want, so shh. As I said, you heard nothing from me,” he waits for that huff of breath that signals defeat, and laughs when he gets it. “I’ll be home soon!”

Jackie calls him an idiot as the call ends, his voice so full of fondness, and Marvin stays standing in front of the shop and just smiling to himself for another moment before he enters.

“’Elloooooo...” Marvin calls as he shuts the front door behind himself, and he hears Jackie’s goofy ‘’Allo!’ in response from somewhere. First thing’s first he calls his other crutch to himself, because his legs are tired now and he needs it, just in case, and floats his bag over into the kitchen.

He doesn’t even get to start unpacking before Jackie enters after him, perfectly upright and seemingly much more comfortable in his skin than only hours ago. He’s wrapped in a bathrobe and his hair is still dripping slightly, and he must have forgotten his glasses somewhere. Marvin already expects a wild hunt to find them again in like five minutes. But he looks good, in his lanky, dorky kind of way, and Marvin is so glad the day is going a little better for him now.

Marvin grins as he fishes out the potted hyacinth he’s bought from the bag. “Look! I brought you a new friend!”

Jackie stares for a moment too long, and his forehead gets a little scrunched up, and he’s still wearing that dorky, goofy smile on his face...and by now Marvin knows to translate that expression to “Jackie just got emotional as fuck.” He has just about half a moment to put the plant back down safely before he’s tugged forward and wrapped up in Jackie’s arms. He leans into it, and his crutches stay hovering where he let go of them. He makes sure to keep his grip on Jackie cautious, because it’s rude to squeeze someone around the middle when their organs are being disrespectful.

Jackie does squeeze him though, and it’s nice. He sounds a little choked up when he says: “Thank you.”

“Dude, it’s just a flower...”

“No, it’s,” he shakes his head, and Marvin can feel it, because it nudges closer to his. “You know I don’t just mean the flower.”

Marvin takes a moment to respond, as he presses his face into Jackie’s shoulder until he can’t breather properly. He adjusts his head, leaves his cheek resting there anyway, and he doesn’t stop smiling. “I know,” he takes a short pause and risks a very gentle squeeze. Jackie doesn’t wince. “Still, you don’t need to thank me.”

“Nope,” Jackie’s tone switches to something less deeply emotional and more dorky again, and he raises his head, though still makes no move to end the hug. He shakes his head and laughs. “Nope, we’re not doing this argument again.”

Marvin just laughs along, and shoves his face back into his best friend’s shoulder again.

#original art #original writing #original character #writing #hhhhhhhh titles #oc: jackie #oc: marvin #guess which tireed dumbass tagged this with the ship tag even tho they arent together in this yet

[shardclan]

A Moment in the Summerlands

The granary serving both Aphaster and Feldspar is filling as the fields empty.

 Queen Rebis stands in the reaped remains, alone save the quiet presence of Nayvadius. Though she went there knowing that it was the same place her predecessor often stood, her mind is not on Telos. She looks at the easternmost grasslands dourly, knowing that they have been harvested early. Dragons and beastclans alike are preparing themselves for an early winter courtesy of the changed winds. The possibility of a food shortage is so likely that she considers it already a reality.

For the first time, she feels relief at the thought of a satellite clan that will diminish the capital's numbers. The promise she made with Lightweaver still burns, but the partial banishment of her attachments means fewer mouths to feed. There are comparisons to the rule of the Investor already reaching her ears. The climate change and the food storage it will bring is not an unknown, and the clan is braced for rationing, closed borders, and all manner of restrictions.

She worries that she is naive to think she will be able to winter their clan without doing anything drastic. Her upbringing was idyllic, her image of Aphaster idealized by a lack of conflict. She is grown enough now to understand that may not have been for the best.

She emits a quiet prayer to the high noon sun that her choices will be the right ones.

Arcanus sets down the Sunbeam Sentinel and closes his eyes. Across from him, he can feel Carnelian watching him.

He has already admitted that he toasted to Telos' departure with Gethsemene. That was supposed to be it. That was supposed to be enough. But Carnelian is not Gethsemene. While she and Arcanus were sure to grow closer from now on, she was tangential to all that had happened since Aphaster came to be, and to who Arcanus had become since then.

Carnelian is integral--an attachment that Arcanus gained that grew with him. He knew everything, and even though they have not seen each other for eons, Arcanus feels that Carnelian still knows even the most remote corners of his heart.

Carnelian would never actually prompt him to be honest, but the untouched cigar gently smoking in its tray, the unpoured liquor, and the carefully neutral expression are all glaring to Arcanus. Expressions of compassion from a difficult man.

Resentment stings him, and embarrassment on its heel. It's only a fleeting feeling, but he is angry that someone as opaque as Carnelian can see through him so easily. He has walked through Aphaster with his head high, his mission accomplished and promise kept, and yet Carnelian pierces through it without a word.

Arcanus lets out a sob with only the most passing attempt to restrain it.

He has missed Aphaster so much. He is so happy to be home.

But Telos is not there anymore.  

With as little sound as possible, Carnelian closes the blinds, and sits with him in the dark. The sound of the guardian's grief passes over him and fills his home as inescapably as rain.

"Telos would never have allowed it," Dantalion spits.

"Telos had to make other allowances," Heaven points out meekly. "They just...didn't affect us."

Heaven has never seen him so furious. Dantalion is within arms reach, holding tightly to himself and seething, and Heaven feels as though the Sea of a Thousand Currents is already between them.

"Our life is here," he grits. "Your family. Our family. You shouldn't have to leave just because of some ambiguous demand from Lightweaver!"

"Lion..." Heaven tries to soothe. "It's not ambiguous. I have to go because Rebis is attached to me."

"I'M ATTACHED TO YOU!" Dantalion explodes. 

The air between them buzzes, a rushing vibration that both can feel in their bones. Neither is sure if it is the unexpected anger, or his thick witch's blood calling something into their home.

"I'm attached to you," he forces himself to say more calmly, but he is trembling. "But everything else I'm attached to is here, Heaven. Everything you're attached to is here too. There's nothing for us in the Isles. Just a bunch of bad memories. A place where I fucked up and didn't recognize a dragon made to masquerade as a spirit, and a place where a bunch of our clanmates who are either dead or gone used to live."

Heaven swallows. The attempt nearly chokes him, but he manages to whisper, "I still have to go."

"I know," Dantalion admits wearily. He rubs at his eyes. "But I don't think I can go with you."

Lavi finds Carnelian standing at the door. He drops, holding onto his knees and wheezing as he tries to catch his breath.

"He's--he's here, right?"

Carnelian nods, but he is quick to throw a blocking arm in the way to prevent Lavi's passing. They meet eyes, and a spark of irritation jumps between them.

"I don't think he wants you to see him right now," Carnelian says with unusual patience. "Not like that."

"But you have seen him," Lavi shoots back. "In whatever state he's in. He came to you first."

"He came to a place where he doesn't have to deal with echoes of Telos first," he corrects with an arched brow. "I didn't think you were the jealous type."

"I just--" Lavi blusters, immediately ashamed of his cattiness. "I just want to see him... Please."

"Let me say it again, but so you can hear it: Your father wouldn't want his son to see the kind of grief he is dealing with right now."

It amazes Carnelian how easily diffused Lavi is by the acknowledgement that Arcanus considers him a son. Lavi is Imperator, and a half-feral that towers over the other glamours that the clan has accustomed itself to using, but he is also only a young drake who hasn't seen his father in half a cycle. Playing on that leaves a surprisingly sour taste in Carnelian's mouth.

"You come running to where he is every time," he offers peaceably. "One man to another, he needs that right now, but that's not something I can do."

Carnelian's strange softness jars some suppressed emotion loose in Lavi, to the older dragon's chagrin. "I was supposed to take care of things. I was supposed to have really good news for him, but--!"

"Gods, shut up before you piss me off. You're just like him; you'd do the right thing even if it killed you."

From inside, a muffled croak: "He means that you've done your best and shouldn't worry so much..."

The imperial and the guardian meet eyes again, and with a tired roll of his eyes, Carnelian opens his door and watches Invigilavi run in and leap into Arcanus' waiting arms.

Carnelian closes the door to leave them alone and wanders off into the fog of Bramble Step without a care. They need each other, and Arcanus knows the locks. They'll be fine.

The moment plays over and over, no matter how Azricai tries to get past it.

It was sad, but peaceful to watch Kea go. She had seemed a little confused that Azricai had specifically come to say goodbye to her. The remnants of Tawhiri respectfully parting, maybe? She took Azricai’s hand anyway.

Kea was warm. She was so, so warm.

"Azricai helped lift the stigma around you from your grandmother's exile."

The words were said coolly. Not blurted. Deliberate. Equinox' emotional geography was smooth and stone still beside Azricai. She had never seen it coming.

In her moments of clarity, Azricai knows it was a betrayal of her trust. But she also knows she would have done the same--she just had the benefit of so much practice that she would have picked a better time. She would never have let anyone feel the way she had in that moment. 

"She's been looking out for you since she joined the clan. You're the reason she became the Gale Wolf. She first learned how to be the person she is now with you, Kea." Equinox moving, letting Azricai go. She knew they couldn't remain together after that. "The Gale Wolf was created for you."

Kea had no reason to disbelieve Equinox, even though it was unbelievable. But if she had, Azricai's stumble would have given her away. The naked expression on her face. The way she yanked her hand back, covering her face as though she could somehow put her impenetrable persona back together by hand. The anxious horror of watching Kea piece her memories back together. Re-contextualizing. Shedding light on places inside her that hadn't come to the surface in eons to see where this new information came in.

"I..." Control of the situation had been wrenched from Azricai's hands. She had never felt so vulnerable. Not even when Lavi had asked her point blank if she loved him. "I did not want you to feel manipulated. I didn't want you to think less of how far you've come for my involvement."

Kea's eyes had softened with understanding Azricai had not ever dared to think about. "But that's the point of you isn't it? You only ever push forward what's already there. Like you did for Iblis. For everyone who has ever come to you troubled." A warm blush had spread across her cheeks. "Though I guess it's a little embarrassing that I was the guinea pig."

"You weren't!" Azricai cried. "You were never any such thing! You were my family, and you deserved better! That's all it was ever about!"

It embarrasses Azricai now. How she must have looked. Crying out and weeping before a woman who, until that moment, had never been aware that Azricai cared for her. Much less considered that somewhere in those unknowable depths, Azricai was genuinely attached to her--that she had been from the start.

But Kea had smiled. The way she only did with Iblis. With Camellia and Kiele and her children. With dragons she considered Family. The open gates of the Observatory awaited, and she would not go back on her decision. But she had spared a moment to embrace Azricai and say the only words that she thought needed saying.

"Thank you."

The words are still lodged in Azricai's heart. She sits alone inside the hollowed marble pillar she has called home since their first days in the Sunbeam Ruins. 

Rebis needs her. Lavi needs her. 

But no matter how many time she closes her eyes, the conversation replays, and the strength to do anything but curl deeper into her pillows eludes her. 

#Flight Rising #c: invigilavi #C: Arcanus #C: Rebis #C: Azricai #C: Carnelian #C: Heaven #C: Dantalion #In which there are Stages of Grief (tm) #Aphaster Stories

[queenrhenpendragon]

Return (In Pieces 13)

Return

Okay so, just so you know the ocean between the Arishta Isles is called the Eldredth, I’m not making this up I promise, it’s on the world map and also that one lady with the ring says it, I swear!

Like the last one, this lil RhenxDameon piece happens between the back-and-forth miniquests that happen before the party can face Indra in the Snow Queen’s basement. Probably on some beach somewhere near Sedona.

Also yes, I totally wrote this because of this post

The ocean whispered.

It rustled and sighed against the shore, and Rhen swore she knew the words it used. It murmured in the ancient language of nature, a language every creature knew but none understood. At least, Rhen couldn't make any sense of it. She wished she could.

When she was a young and restless child, she thought she could understand the babbling of the brook that ran through Clearwater. She had spent hundreds of summer afternoons barefoot on its banks, cooling her toes in its crystal flow, caking her knees in mud, sometimes catching little fish. Her Pa always cheered about the fish. Ma always sighed at the mud. And Rhen laughed with the stream— that's what the bouncing, clear sounds it made were. Laughter.

The last time they had passed through Clearwater she sat down by the brook and tried to hear it again. Dameon had found her there— it was only a matter of time, there were only so many places to explore in Clearwater. She patted the ground beside her and he sat and she told him about the laughter and he tilted his head at her, and his hair had fallen to the side so she could see both of his eyes, dark like the deepest parts of the river and wide like the sky.

"Can you hear it laughing?" she had asked before she could stop herself.

She had expected he would laugh, but instead he closed his eyes and listened and she held her breath and didn't know why.

When he opened his eyes again he had to shake his head— no, he couldn't hear the laughter. Rhen had looked down at the forever flowing brook, tumbling down the easiest paths, paths worn smooth by centuries of movement, and she'd managed a smile.

"Me neither."

It was always moving and it had finally moved without her.

Of course, the brook couldn't really laugh. It was just water. And so was the ocean— in this case, a lot of water, and sand, and fish, and— if the tales were to be believed, which they were if Rhen had learned anything on this crazy quest— sirens and mermaids.

Maybe they knew what the sea sighed about. Rhen only knew that it sighed, and that the sun was bright and warm, and the breeze was playful and really it was just too beautiful a day to not completely and utterly waste. So here she was, on the beach, completely and utterly wasting it.

Everyone had stowed away their armor in their bags. Rhen wasn't wearing her boots or her sword or her shield and she had forgotten how it felt to be able tomove.

The ocean moved, too, but not like the brook. It always came back to itself, gathering its long stretches of blue up into great arching waves and then tumbling down to the beach again and starting over, time after time. It was predictable, but never the same. It was wild and free and unconquerable.

She knew sometimes the ocean roared, she had heard it during violent storms, and sailors had told her how it swallowed whole ships down into its unknowable depths. Perhaps that should have made her nervous. But Rhen, too, could bring destruction. She was trained in violence, she knew how to be fierce. It was not the roaring that moved her.

It was— something in the way the sea and the shore ran to each other, over and over, leaving bits of themselves strewn across the other, starfish and seashells and unending sand— it meant something, she just didn't know what.

She stood nearly waist-deep in the middle of all of it, watching the way the water rocked gently on the horizon, feeling it rush past her, pulling her in with it. She watched waves form and held her breath as they sped towards her, whispering in that ancient language she wished she understood.

And the wave crashed against her, swallowing her whole like one of those ill-fated ships, uprooting her feet from the shifting sands and carrying her with it, not deterred in the least from its intended course. She spat out salt water and gasped for breath and found herself crashing onto the beach with all the seaweed and sediment— and the last of the wild wave was rolling back into the sea with a mournful sigh.

She stared after it, feeling winded and disoriented and— exhilarated, and another wave was already rising in the distance, the sand on the beach was rolling past her to meet it, and she scrambled to her feet to chase the retreating shore back into the deep blue.

The second wave came with the same fresh energy as the first, and she met it with a laugh that almost felt like the one she had learned from the brook. She was crashing and falling but she was not fighting, the ocean was fierce but it was not a warrior, it crashed and fell with her and it always, always returned her to the beach with that same soft murmur.

It was so different from the brook, and the swamps. The swamps smothered wildness, everything was stagnant there.

The last time they had passed through a swamp had been New Witchwood. It oozed with icky gooey green and slippery slime thanks to the Sludgemaster 2000— why had she ever given it to the witches? The muck stuck to her boots the same way it had to her bare feet in Ghalarah, trying to hold her down— at least she had boots now.

Again it had been Dameon who found her. It was only a matter of time, she had been walking more slowly because of the mud and one by one the others had all passed her. Dameon was always last. He had smiled at her as he caught up, and she'd scowled and yanked her boots free and the mud pfft'd derisively and she declared, before she could think, "I hate that sound! I feel like it's mocking me."

"I'm sorry. That's awful," he had said, with his brow furrowed and his lips turned down in that serious little way he had.

Rhen usually felt scrutinized when people frowned at her, but that frown made her feel— silly and trembly and—

Seen.

She had then promptly stepped in another muck puddle and gotten stuck again, and Dameon had given her his arm and helped her pull herself out and she had pfft'd back at the mud and they caught up to the others and she— she couldn't remember if she'd actually let go of his arm or not. Why couldn't she remember?

She found she hadn't been paying attention when suddenly another wave swallowed her, she kicked her legs, and her face found the sun and she gasped and laughed, more thrilled than before because she hadn't expected it, she rolled and tumbled with the sea and landed on the beach again.

"Be more careful, maiden!" Galahad yelled as she surfaced. Saltwater dripped from the end of her nose and her braid and she spat some out of her mouth, and waved at him to prove she was just fine. He waved back, and resolutely ignored the vampress sitting next to him. Te'ijal didn't seem to mind, she was busy digging a hole— with her fingernails, of course. She could already fit her whole arm into it.

A bit farther up the beach, Elini was making a castle out of wet sand which she had made Lars dig up with the shovel. Apparently neither of them had been willing to follow Te'ijal's example.

Even from the surf, Rhen could hear Galahad scoffing at the idea of trying to make anything out of something as transient as sand, but Elini just smiled and smoothed out the walls. It was a beautiful castle, even if the tide would wash it out to sea in a matter of hours.

It would just be another thing that the ocean and the beach shared between them, sighing and shifting and returning again.

Dameon was walking in the between-space, picking up shells left by the surf and sometimes keeping them and sometimes tossing them back into the waves. Didn't he know they would just be washed back up? Rhen knew, from personal first-hand experience, everything came back to the between-space.

She turned to return to the ocean but was interrupted by an outraged yelp and she whirled around to see that Te'ijal's arm and shoulder were now completely buried in the hole she had made and her hand had broken through the sand and come out right next to— Galahad's hand.

"Let go, you— you! Devious creature! Release me!"

Te'ijal just laughed and tried to tug his hand under the sand with hers. Rhen shook her head and sighed, the vampress was predictable and crazy. And Rhen might have done something about it, but the surf tickled her toes and sighed too, and instead she ran back into the ocean with it.

Over and over she ran after the sea and over and over it carried her back to the beach and— she laughed every time.

She watched breathlessly as each wave forming on the horizon, rocking the entire ocean in its quest to be. She squealed and grinned as it crashed into her, intent on its destination and happy to take her on the ride. And she landed on the beach with everything else that rode the wave, and she— loved it, there was something important about that space between the world and the mighty Eldredth.

It was only a matter of time— that is, she should have predicted it, there was only so much shore for her to get washed up on and she had been washed up a hundred times in a hundred different places at least— so it was bound to happen, as certain as the ocean was bound to kiss the shore again, and again—

Still, somehow she was surprised when she was deposited once more on the beach with all the shells and instead of just the sigh of the waves she heard a low laugh next to her, and she looked up to see— to see—

"Hi, Dameon," she squeaked, quickly standing and trying to brush the sand off— it was futile, the sand was everywhere.

"Hi, Rhen," he said, with the same mildness of the surf rolling back into the sea. "Have you been listening to the ocean?"

She felt herself turning red and decided to pretend she was just sunburned. "Yes. Have you?"

He smiled that stupid smile that made her stupid stomach trembly, and said, "Yes. But I'm afraid I don't understand it."

"Me neither!" she said, and found that somehow she had leaned forward and was staring up into dark round eyes— she quickly pulled away again and smoothed out her braid. Not that it did any good, the saltwater had made a mess of it.

"What do you have there?" she asked, pointing at what he was twisting in his hands.

He held it up for her to see and its smooth white surface glinted in the sun— a seashell. "Just this," he said. "It sounds the same as the ocean when you—" he turned red suddenly, and looked away— "when you put your ear up to it."

She took it from him, careful not to brush her clumsy fingers against his graceful ones, and she held it beside her head on one side and plugged her ear on the other.

And then— she couldn't help the dopey grin that spread across her face. "It does sound like the ocean!"

Dameon was staring hard at the sand, and his dark eyes darted up to meet hers and quickly looked down again, eyelashes fluttering over them.

His eyes spoke the same language the sea did when it whispered, soft and fierce and somehow sad.

She hesitated, and thought of the crashing waves and blurted, "I— I think I know what the sea is saying."

He looked fully at her now, dark eyes wide.

"It's saying— it's saying— er— here," she thrust the shell at him and held it against his ear, which was stupid because he was practically standing in the ocean so it's not like he needed it to hear what she did. He looked startled at first and he flinched away but then—

He closed his eyes, and leaned towards her again, and mouthed the words she had been waiting to understand.

I will return to you.

#aveyond #rhen darzon #rhen pendragon #dameon maurva #beach #eldredth #hafta use my pointless aveyond trivia for something #rhenxdameon #in pieces #in pieces 13 #fanfiction #fluffyaveyond #do not reblog if you support character bashing or have anything remotely resembling it on your blog

[superbatson]

frozen denver: a reaction post

yeah, i decided to watch the frozen boot in its entirety on a snow day. it seemed appropriate enough. 😜

act one

i really dig this narrator/troll guy. he’s kinda hot (but that’s probably bc he’s shirtless constantly with tattoos/body paint and biceps & abs for days... mm, yes)

i like the diversity aspect of having elsa & anna’s dad be black. only, for the show to be realistic, elsa & anna shouldn’t be so light-skinned. while it is possible to have mixed parents and come out as white-passing, it’s more likely/common for the kids’ skins to be at least somewhat dark/medium. both girls don’t look mixed at all.

ooh, the “monster” melody appears in the beginning? i love it! (with bonus foreshadowing, yes please!)

patti is a really good anna. she’s quite adorable, and her voice is a really good fit for the character.

these ice projects are fantastic, i especially love the ones on the objects elsa’s holding when she first appears

bringing the remaining cast of characters in for “first time in forever” is a very smart move. it really makes it feel like this song is more the opening number, despite what we’ve already seen/heard so far. now the real story can begin.

hans is reeeeeally awkward in the beginning, wow. he wasn’t like this in the original film. a little awkward/clumsy, yeah, but not any more than anna. he’s like ten times more awkward than anna now, but john as a cute smile, so i’ll give him that.

weaselton’s tango is kind of unnecessary, but still a fun little transition between scenes. kinda makes the show feel more like a movie, since that’s more something that you’d find in a movie than a broadway show.

even if i was never a huge fan of the original movie, “love is an open door” has definitely been my favorite song from this franchise ever since i saw it, and john & patti sound even better singing this song than kristen & santino. i love this performance.

i’ll admit, i watched this performance before when i initially downloaded the boot and gosh, the slightly adult-ish humor is great. anna’s hand sliding down han’s chest, hilarious! these lil dorks really don’t know how to flirt.

i love the dance break!!!! it’s so cute and fun! and very in-character.

best part of that number has to be how quickly-yet-gradually john’s curls begin to fall loose. they’re just everywhere by the end, and i love it!

oh god now they’re making out as they transition scenes... this is a family show!

i just noticed that when anna comes back out to officially meet/team up with kristoff, the strip of white in her hair has gotten bigger... i’m guessing the whiteness will continue to grow as the show goes on?

oh no i really like jelani’s voice too. what the heck, this cast is so talented?!?!

i love the production design for this show. it really makes you feel like you’re in a cold, snowy, frozen place. (but the same can be said for ghd, because that also did a really good job of setting the mood in terms of the weather of the show.)

this is now the second time anna’s been lifted up in the air (or, i guess, swept off her feet... *ba dum tss*) by a male character in the show... is there supposed to be a height joke there?

they really could have done a better job with how they incorporate olaf into the show, at least from a design standpoint. everything so far makes the show seem realistic, like it could be set in the real world - or, say, like a live-action movie. but olaf looking exactly like the animated movie? terrible. i get that he has a particular look to him, but disney, please change it going into broadway, thanks.

(i don’t even care if they give him black, button eyes that could make him look creepier. it’ll be realistic, and we all learned to love the hyper-realistic cgi characters of 2017′s beauty and the beast, right?)

greg is... alright as olaf. a little too much like a gad copycat to me. and while i understand how much the kids like “in summer” and it shows how adorable dumb olaf is as a character, is it really necessary in the broadway show? it’s just too much of a break from the main plot of the show.

oh, look, they fixed john’s hair, ha, that’s great. there’s just like a single curl falling on his forehead now.

ohh, yes, give me this assertive leader hans. i love this character growth. (bc i’m the weirdo who’s always loved hans, even when he ends up being evil. sue me.)

“let it go” is such an overrated song, but damn, does it make a good act one closer! (and that ice dress is gorgeous, ugh, best costume of the show so far.)

act two

oh no they kept the trading post guy. why

wait, he’s just talking to the audience. i guess this is a filler-type thing to give people some extra time in the bathroom or getting snacks/merch? eh, alright. glad more shows are doing that now, though i’ll always make sure i’m right back in my seat the second the curtain lifts again for act two.

he has a song too. yeah, this is all filler. let’s see if this song is better than “poor pirates”. (it probably won’t be, but who knows?)

answer: it’s not. it’s very lame and kind of annoying, really.

aw, i kind of liked anna in the practical winter gear. but i guess this second dress is even more notable (for her) from the movie, so it was kind of inevitable that they’d incorporate it, right?

kristoff getting excited over the castle made entirely of ice. i like this little addition to the script.

i’ve forgotten how good elsa’s part in this “first time in forever” reprise is. can i get a studio recording of that as a solo?

it makes sense that they’d do away with the snow monster thing that sends anna, kristoff, and olaf out, but i’m confused as to what actually did send them out. more snow? a big gust of wind? elsa separating herself with more ice walls? what???

another olaf song? really? is that necessary?

they kept the “i don’t have a skull, or bones” line. that’s, like, the only olaf line i like, so, good.

ohhh, yeah, the trolls are still there and they’re still kristoff’s parents. i’m suddenly remembering the line in the opening about the trolls raising some human kids...

“fixer upper” also feels like a very unnecessary song??? i dunno, maybe i’m just sick of it from the movie. (or i just never liked it anyway)

the troll leader guy’s name is pabbie. just listing that here, for, uh, safe keeping...

watching the original movie again recently, i came to the realization that kristoff’s a very one-dimensional character with not a lot of growth or depth or anything like that. i’m still not completely sold on him as a character here, but i’ll admit, he has a lot more personality now. and this lullaby further helps to show that. good for you, frozen on broadway. you fixed something from the original film.

i just noticed that the troll guy’s - pabbie! - tail moves. not just with the motion of him walking, but it swings back and forth, more than i think it naturally would from the motion of walking. such a cool little detail!

it might be because i’ve listened to it several times before, but “monster” is definitely my favorite new song written for this show on broadway. it shows more of elsa’s fear about not controlling her powers and fear that others will fear her. it’s also just really catchy. kind of goes with “hope” in terms of super powerful and darn good broadway songs.

“if i die, would they be free?” yup, this song definitely goes hand-in-hand with “hope”. (though it’s a bit dark for a disney song...)

“she’s scared, so back off” SEE I TOLD YOU HANS IS A GOOD GUY #justiceforhans2k18

“why do you protect her?” “......for anna.” me:

.

(the only ships i care about for frozen are hans/anna and hans/elsa, sorry)

ohhh, john’s delivery of the “if only there was someone out there who loved you” line is good. i love how he smiles and laughs before saying it.

(i especially love how it’s really the same smile we saw before, that looked all cute, sweet, and innocent, but now it has a dark, evilness to it. eee, it’s great!)

(i’m a sucker for good villains, if you couldn’t already tell)

a third, sinister version of “hans of the southern isles”? yes please!

my prediction from earlier was right: patti’s wig is whiter now, to go with how more and more frozen anna’s becoming

HIS LIL EVIL LAUGH AHH YES

okay, two little flaws with the scene i’m watching (i had no comments on the “true love” song or anna’s conversastion with olaf) - hans should be  more sad/solemn when he says that anna’s dead, not just yelling it? i mean, he can be loud, but at least show some emotion. and isn’t elsa there to hear that anna’s supposedly dead? she should be there to hear the news so that she’s defeated enough that hans has the opportunity to kill her...

oh, these ensemble members in all white are supposed to represent the storm... that’s cool!

now, elsa’s finding out that anna’s “dead”... nevermind about my previous criticism, then

“may i kiss you?” “yes, you may!” oh, that’s cute

so hans gets punched and then just stumbles offstage - will we get any more closure with him in the next five minutes, or no?

ohh, i like this “love is an open door”/”true love” mashup

overall thoughts

i honestly can’t wait to download this album/stream it on spotify. it’s really good. as i have said and will continue to say, i didn’t like the original film, but dammit, this show has officially sold me on the franchise. i kind of love it.

i don’t know who i want to win now at the tony’s. i mean, frozen has freakin’ oscars, so if it loses, i’ll be fine, and if it wins, i won’t be surprised, but the actors? between this cast and spongebob, i just don’t know. one of the ladies here, more likely cassie, should definitely win for best actress. as for the men, well, obviously my preferences like with ethan for lead and gavin for supporting, but john and jelani are really good too. and it’s really a tie for song & lyrics, both shows are so good. even the frozen costumes are great, though spongebob’s are just a little more creative when it comes to the ensemble...

going back to the music, i also hope they keep some of the score pieces for the soundtrack. the score’s really good.

i also think everyone’s well-cast in each of their respective roles. no one seems out of place here. the show can only get better when it transitions to broadway.

#frozen #frozen musical #frozen broadway #reviews

[thealfanator]

The Steel that Warmed Us in the Night-Time ~ Chapter 7

For the first time in what seemed like decades, Yennefer found herself being able to walk confidently.  She ripped off her bandage aggressively like punching a longing enemy in the face.  Her wound seemed healed.  Hunter and Triss looked astonished at the quick recovery.

“That’s healed up quite nicely there, Yen.” Triss said in a content voice while pushing her body weight against a sturdy-looking pillar inside the tavern.  Yennefer, for once, broadcasted a smile towards Triss.  She seemed relieved at the recovery and not caring about anything else in particular.

“Just glad to finally breathe after that annoyingly awkward bandage.” She chuckled, prodding her finger gently into her stomach. Hunter looked at her anxiously as if he was now going to step up onto a stage.  He took a deep breath in after gathering his sword and bow.

“Yen.  It was really nice to meet you,” he started, “but I have to go.” He looked at the floor and sighed.  “It was great… but I’m sort of a lone wolf – I need to get back out there.” He trailed off into thought, further looking down at his worn, black shoes. Yennefer first glared at the floor with him, saddened by the news, then she looked directly into his eyes whilst he looked back, and smiled.

“Very well; again, very nice to meet you, Hunter.” She proclaimed with a shaky voice whilst hugging a farewell to him.  She glanced back once more as a token of thanks, then he left.  Deafening silence preceded.  Yennefer and Triss stared silently at either a worn-down corner of a table or an unsteady bench.

“We should go.” Triss expressed to break the silence.

“What do you mean?” Yennefer replied.

“You know that list of amulet locations?  We should go now!  To get another one.”  Yennefer scoffed at the idea and turned her back towards her.  “Come on, don’t you want to help complete this contract?” she continued, “as quickly as possible?”  Yennefer sighed as Triss finished her attempt to persuade her.

“Fine.  Make sure my horse is safe for a while, buy some provisions and I’ll conjure a portal to Skellige.”

In the night-time air, a sturdy iron gate became unhinged and flew across the chilly, overgrown courtyard into a now dishevelled brick exterior wall.  Geralt stealthily entered, breathing steadily and silently; watching it form misty white clouds in front of his face.  He stopped and mapped the layout of his surroundings before gazing up at the tall silhouette of the castle of Toussaint.  He exhaled and thumped across the courtyard in trepidation, breathing heavily, more to release his anxiety in his stomach than to actually consume the static air around him.  He ducked through the shadows which were made kindly by the trees.  They almost made company to the Witcher, making sure he was safe and not exposed to view of patrolling guards.  He made his way to an unguarded, small metal door which was half Geralt’s height.  He swiftly opened it with an agonising scream made by the creaky, rusty connections between the door and the wall.  It revealed an uneven set of concrete stairs leading down into a cellar.  Whilst preparing to delve deep into a restricted area, Geralt used his cat-like eyes to study behind him; the route he had just taken. Looking back to the cellar and dousing his torch to conjure a flame, he inhaled, exhaled and descended into the darkness.  Once inside, he was greeted by a bunch of snake-like narrow corridors which connoted an eerie atmosphere and even made a tough Witcher buckle under a slight fright an unnerving feeling.  Geralt continued down the cold, basement corridors until he came to an open space with jail cells either side of him.  Iron bars were scattered firmly into place.  Geralt silently searched each of the cells.

“Ciri?” he called in a whisper.  He spotted her from a mile away, her eyes sparkling against his torch in the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered back as he grew closer.

“Getting you out!” he almost shouted, realising that he heard footsteps grow louder, then fade away into the distance.  Ciri and Geralt exchanged unreadable facial expressions. Ciri felt overly thankful that she could escape the grim depths of the holding cell area, but didn’t like to admit it to Geralt.  She smiled mischievously.

“Thanks” she winked.  Geralt notified Ciri that he was going to release an incredibly powerful sign of Aard, which would be dangerous and loud, so Ciri evaded the area and walked into the dirty part of the square cell.  The room shattered with pressure as a powerful force broke the door down. The heavy, iron clunked onto the floor, making a huge clash which rung in the ears of anyone nearby.  Ciri tip-toed out of her holding cell and walked across the large corridor with Geralt.  They suddenly heard shouts of guards behind them.

“They’re getting away!” one shouted.

“Get them!” another emitted. Geralt and Ciri took no chances and immediately bolted in the other direction; iron-covered guards on their tail.  They tried desperately to find the exit from the basement - Geralt in the lead, followed by Ciri and a dozen guards.

“This way; quickly!” Geralt shouted intensely.

*

Yennefer and Triss apparated a few feet above a gravel path leading down a sloping hill into the deep salty sea of the Skellige Isles. They misjudged the height and fell abruptly, hurting their bones in a stinging pain.

“Ow.” Triss laughed, clutching her sore back before swiftly getting up and brushing little particles of dirt off her lower half of her body.  She looked around.  They landed just off the side of a small, fisherman’s village.  The sea air scorched their noses in a jesting delight. Men with crooked backs carrying large fish over their shoulders waddled up and down from the village to the coast and back, looking deep in thought whilst having a wild grin on their faces. Yennefer sighed happily at the positive sights and overwhelming company of a busy crowd.

“According to the contractor, there’s a peculiar underwater temple deep to the coast.” Yennefer began, “We should see it if we get closer.”  Yennefer and Triss trudged along the thick ground, getting mud and grass over their legs which stuck like keen children.  As they arrived, they couldn’t see anything in the distance but they knew that they’d need to go deeper into the water to have a chance at seeing the structure.  They looked at each other.

“You’re going in.” Yennefer instructed, “I’m not getting my suit wet.”

“Absolutely not, you’re mad.  You can go in; it’s your contract – your Geralt.” Triss bounced back with angry eyes.  They both exchanged penetrative glares.  Moments passed.  “Fine.” Triss agreed as she stepped into the cold, merciless water.

*

The morning sun rose on the edge of Toussaint, welcoming the warmth of its presence and attracting the inhabitants to retreat from their houses and rush about another lively day.  Geralt and Cirilla hid in a dark, stinking alleyway where nobody would batter an eyelid at checking for them, with the exception of the city guards which occasionally ran past the entrance to the passageway.  Unfortunately for the two of them, they realised that when Ciri became detained and searched, the guards took the amulet for themselves; oblivious to the importance it withheld.

“They probably have it secured well inside the castle.” Ciri sighed whilst struggling to think of a plan to retrieve it once more. Geralt sat on a rough, unstable stool with his weapons rested on the floor and his back enjoying the support of the cold, raw brick wall.  He rubbed his slightly scruffy beard in hope of generating some ideas.  All of a sudden, he set his back straight and looked at Ciri with keen eyes.

“I have an idea.”

           Geralt strolled up to the entrance to the castle which was smothered with about six or seven armed guards.  He smiled in a welcoming tone as he continued to waltz about them, hands behind his back and performing a slightly awkward posture.

“Whas’ your business here?” one of them, presumably the captain as he was the only guard with his helmet off, shouted at the Witcher. It was evident that news about Ciri’s escape hadn’t reached this cluster of guards yet.  Geralt stayed silent.  He slowly walked up to the confused captain until the tips of their noses only stood half a metre from each other.  Geralt beamed in a kind greet whilst the captain scoffed at his naïve actions.  Then the first punch flew.  Geralt swiped the captain with a closed fist across his right cheekbone before the other guards drew their swords with a high-pitched twang as they unsheathed.  Geralt dodged back a few steps and drew his steel sword and pirouetted in a circular motion but still centred on the growing number of guards.  This was her chance: Ciri took Geralt’s distraction and ducked through the wide pathway leading from the high, stone walls into the castle itself.  Once she was inside the perimeter, she sprinted up the cobblestone pathway, panting hard for breath and occasionally hid behind tall, well-trimmed bushes and multiple patches of tall grass.  She stopped at the unguarded main doors to the large fortress before peeking around the corner.  She silently wished Geralt luck before crouching inside; stealth becoming her main priority.  Geralt also peered over the attacking guards to see Ciri’s penetration to the building. Taking an opportunity to flee from them, Geralt ducked and dived through the obstacles of the city, trying to escape.

*

Triss was deep underwater, desperately holding her breath whilst swimming quickly towards the algae-covered stone temple she saw just ahead of her.  She saw an entrance point despite the bubbles which tried to block her vision like leaves in a windy storm.  It was incredibly worn down: corners were soft and delicate, rocks embedded the sea floor as a result of them crumbling away from the structure  It seemed empty, but Triss hoped the amulet was actually there.  In frustration, Triss also wondered how the amulet got there in the first place and why they needed to be collected.  Nevertheless, she struggled on to get inside the complex.  A few moments later, she climbed through narrow gaps and reached a part of the temple in which the water was only waist-high, allowing her to breath and get her bearings.  Like a wet cat, she dried her hair and adjusted her uniform as effectively as she could.  She took a deep breath, conjured a few spells and anxiously wandered deeper into the temple.

Thanks for reading!  I do this purely for enjoyment because I love the Witcher series.  Please check out my previous post, ‘An Opportunity’, for a chance to contribute to my future fanfiction :) take care!

Link to Chapter 1: https://thealfanator.tumblr.com/post/161443706234/the-steel-that-warmed-us-in-the-night-time

#the #steel #that #warmed #us #in #night #time #chapter #seven #geralt #of #rivia #yennefer #vengerberg #ciri #cirilla #triss #merigold #hunter #witcher #rise #white #wolf #assassin #kings #wild #hunt #season #two

[revolutionyoga]

How do you Divine Love? By Cali Pulice

How do you Divine Love?

By Cali Pulice

“bhakty udrekad viraktasy ya drsi jayate matih |

sa saktih sankari nityam bhavayet tam tatah sivah || 121 ||

vastvantare vedya mane sarva vastusu sunyata |

tam eva manasa dhyatva vidito ‘pi prasamyati || 122||

Be wildly devoted to someone, or something.

Cherish every perception.

At the same time, forget about control.

Allow the beloved to be herself and to change.

Passion and compassion, holding and letting go -

This ache in your heart is holy.

Accept it as the rise of intimacy

With life’s secret ways.

Devotion is the divine streaming through you

From that place in you before time.

Love’s energy flows through your body,

Toward a body, and into eternity again.

Surrender to this current of devotion

And become one with the Body of Love.

Love is particular.

When you love someone,

A tangible, touchable someone,

The whole world opens up.

If you want to know the universe,

Dare to love one person.

All the secret teachings are right here-

Go deeper, and deeper still.

The gift of concentration

Is the spaciousness that surrounds it.

Focus illuminates immensity.”

(The Radiance Sutras, 112 Gateways of the Yoga of Wonder & Delight, Lorin Roche, PHD)

I was in second grade when I got married. It was on the playground at my elementary alma mater. I can’t recall all the details of the momentous occasion, however I do remember a few small things. I remember giggling-a lot, as 7 year olds do. I remember scheming out the ceremony and who would be my “bridesmades” vs “maid of honor”. I remember holding the hands of my betrothed as we walked down the concrete fake isle ( we had no grass at Oaks school #3 ; which I believe many of us still accredit our adult badassery to) and how special and silly and wonderful those quick seconds felt. I remember celebrating to the song “Macho Man” afterwards - because what could have been a more romantic and special way to close the ceremony? This magic all happened within a short span of our 25 minute recess- then the class bell rang. My memory is foggy, but I imagine by the final period bell my new “husband” had his sights set on some other lucky classmate to marry next lunch period. Although I may not have known it at the time, that was one of my earliest memories of my quest for Divine Love.

From the moment we are born we seek the other. We leave the womb and we latch to our mother for nourishment, comfort and warmth. In our formative years, we seek playmates, develop friendships and eventually begin to “crush” on those particular “somebodys” who have stolen our hearts affections. Love, is learned. We learn the effortless bliss of being in the close presence of those who unconditionally share their hearts with us. Discovering love is one of our greatest human blessings. During that same period we learn the heartache and pain of separation and distance. Perhaps it happens in the pivotal moment we all experience as a toddler, that flash of terror that overcomes us amidst our joyful play when we realize mommy and daddy aren't in sight. Maybe it comes later, when your best friends get invited to the coolest slumber party of the year - but you did not. Maybe it comes when you find out the boy you’ve had your heart set on, has his heart set on someone else. Maybe it comes when you lose your Grandma or Grandpa - the person who loved you the way your parents could not. It is in these moments that we learn Love and Loss are not separate. You cannot experience one without the other.

This is both the beauty and tragedy of our human ability to give and receive love. It is a blessing and a curse. It is duality. At some point, we are asked to make a choice. We can either remain with our hearts open, dedicating our lives to continuously loving - regardless of the pain that may come along with it or we can close of our hearts entirely; living in solitude with no other than ourselves and our guarded fragile ego.

Avidya “Ignorance” - tells us to guard the ego by closing the heart. Aparigraha “non- attachment” - tells us to practice loving freely without clinging too harshly to joys or the inevitable sorrows. So how do we choose? How do we continue to Love despite knowing its consequences? How do we dedicate our lives to Love?

Perhaps first we ask, “What is Love - really?” . Looking back, 7 year old me would’ve argued Love was getting married on the playground and holding hands until lunch was over. 15 Year old me would’ve argued Love was desperately wanting to be with my (then) boyfriend every second of every day and talking on the phone all night until one of us fell asleep mid-sentence.The former scenarios (and many more like those) may have been me trying to make sense of Love- to decipher the code of Love; but they were simply that. They were micro creations of the macro. They were snippets of a larger and more profound romance.  In my life so far I’ve been graced with a few small but poignant enough experiences to have a glimpse of an understanding of what Love and Divine Romance truly are. Upon hearing the stories of Radha-Krsna in my late teens, I began to slowly refine my understanding and I am certainly still refining to this day.

Krsna- means all attractive. Krsna is an avatar (incarnation) of God who graces the earth with his love, mischief, glory and effulgence. He bestows blessings among everyone equally. Most importantly his relationship to Radha, his divine consort is a perfect example of the relationship between God and humans. Despite being an incarnation of Lord Vishnu (God), which means he is omnipotent, all powerful and can ultimately have all that he wishes because he is the creator himself- Krsna’s heart rests and takes shelter in knowing that Radha, a human cowherd girl - is devoted to him and loves him most. Krsna cannot go without Radha’s love and Radha cannot be with Krsna. They are like the Sun and the Sun’s rays - the Sun cannot shine without the warmth of its beams existing and extending outward and the Rays do not exist without the existence of the Sun itself. They are two parts of a whole. They are seemingly separate, but truly they are not. In Rasa Lila (the story of the relations between Radha-Krsna) Radha is the ultimate Bhakta and so we too as humans are asked to offer ourselves to loving God in this same ecstatic and powerful way. This is the premise of Bhakti Yoga,

“ To be a bhakta is to know and adore God through the sentiments, acts and responsibilities of love. It is also to be immersed in the divine Hearts abiding and powerful presence with ones own heart… bhakti is both the offering of love and the state of love from which this offering comes.” (Exqisite Love, William K. Mahony)

In Bhakti Yoga, the Sadhana (the practice) is this, you continuously devote yourself to loving God and establishing a steady awareness of Gods love for you; even if you cannot actually see or feel him (or her). In your various human experiences, throughout the turbulence of life as well as the serenity- God is your beloved and you are his. You and God are dancing together, yet temporarily separate. As Khalil Gibran says in ‘The Prophet’

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.”

If we follow this ancient wisdom we can begin to answer the question, “what is Love?”, and for me the answer begins with “God is Love.” Here we can start to put the puzzle pieces together. If God is love, and we are a reflection of God then our quest for Divine Love through the experiencing the other makes sense- and yet we also cannot forget the utmost importance of loving ourselves. We are Radha. We are ‘Hari’, the captivating one - Gods beloved, whom he cannot stand to be without.

“ Yaj-jnatva matto bhavati stabdho bhavati atmaramo bhavati

Having know which, one becomes ecstatic; one becomes stunned; one comes to delight in the self.” - Sutra 6 The Bhakti Sutras

If we trust these words enough - faith immerges. We have been given the gift of existence. With Life and all of its mystery and joy and wonder, all that is asked of us is to Love ourselves and one another enough that through our steady devotion to loving, God can feel our potent and powerful love for him in return.

Today my life is shaped by various experiences of Divine Love. When I look into the eyes of my partner; when he holds me - I experience Gods Love. When I laugh maniacally with my closest friends, I experience Gods Love. When I gather with my family, amidst the music, shouting, talk of politics, disagreements and piles of food, I experience Gods love. When I am alone, I experience Gods Love. I was experiencing Gods Love when I danced to ‘Macho Man’ in the 2nd Grade at my sudo-wedding and I’m experiencing Gods Love daily as I dance through the ups and downs of my life today.

“ Life continues from moment to moment in an uninterrupted way. The same is true for Love. Its foundational presence remains always within us. It is there even when we do not feel it. So, too, the powerful yet subtle essence of supreme Love exists within all our experiences relative to love… Love is available to you always. It stands within all of your feelings and sentiments, even though at times it may be distorted, discolored and veiled by them. It flows, silently, from the core of your being, like a wellspring of sweet water rising from the depths of the earth… Ever present, ever quiet, ever fine, Love as the expression of the divine Presence, remains with you, without you. It is avichhinna: uninterrupted.”

(Exquisite Love, William K. Mahony)

[simwoman2002]

Tipsy Freeze

  “Anna, I don’t know if I can do this,” Anna heard her older sister’s voice sound nearby her. Anna turned her head toward Elsa, taking in the elder’s uncomfortable appearance with her arms crossed protectively in front of her middle. Anna’s eyes softened a bit into the loving expression she always had for Elsa.

  “Of course you can. I know you can,” Anna reassured with a large grin and a thumbs-up. Anna didn’t miss the strange glance Elsa threw at her for that comment.

  Anna knew that particular remark brought back memories. But she didn’t truly think about the depth of the words until she bothered to think of which memories.

  “I don’t know, Anna. The last time we had one of these parties, it didn’t end well. For either of us,” Elsa nervously glanced back over to the redhead. Anna moved so that she was grasping the blonde’s hands in hers. She rested her forehead on Elsa’s.

  “Trust me. I’ll be with you every step of the way, okay? I won’t leave you at all tonight,” Anna promised with a heartfelt smile. In return, she received the warmest mix of emotion that could ever come from a snow queen.

  It was quite ironic, really. The fact that someone like Elsa could be stereotyped as so cold and unfeeling but was actually the polar opposite. In fact, Elsa was quite possibly the warmest and most feeling person Anna had ever had the pleasure of having in her life.

  “I trust you, Anna,” Elsa responded, and Anna could easily see that Elsa meant each word.

  “Good.” Anna then removed her hands from Elsa’s grasp and wrapped her sister in a tender embrace.

  But their moment of solitude and love could not last, for their duties as royals beckoned.

  “Presenting Queen Elsa of Arendelle,” Kai announced loudly to the entirety of the crowd gathered in the ballroom. Elsa took a deep breath and straightened herself, gracefully striding to her position in front of the throne.

  Anna couldn’t help but feel a little envy. Elsa always had such perfect mannerisms and she never was ungraceful. Unlike her sister.

  “Princess Anna of Arendelle,” Kai proclaimed. Anna folded her arms in front of her and tried to mimic Elsa’s leisurely but queenly gait.

  She was doing excellently so far. Anna had exited from the hall stretching beside the ballroom entrance and was gracefully making her way in front of the crowd. She proudly held her head high in her confidence.

  It was such a foreign feeling to Anna. To actually be revered during her bout of refinement. No matter how temporary it may have been.

  Naturally, all awe and respect were dispelled from the crowd around the time that Anna accidentally stepped on her dress and barely avoided falling on her face.

  As she straightened herself, her cheeks were filled with a rosy red coloring and she saw some people chuckling and smirking at her expense.

  Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered her so badly for people to be mirthful at her mishaps, but after feeling so valued and esteemed for once, Anna couldn’t help but feel a bit stripped of something.

  But what truly sent a dagger through her heart was a comment made by a dignitary from the Northern Isles.

  “Thank goodness she wasn’t crowned Queen. Arendelle likely would’ve already fallen to its demise as has so many other countries with fumbling female rulers.” Anna’s eyes filled with hurt, angry tears at the cruel observation. She continued her walk to Elsa’s side until she had finally arrived at her destination.

  “Anna, are you okay?” she heard Elsa tentatively question beside her. Anna swallowed hard, trying to convince her tears to disappear before she found the courage to face her older sister.

  When she though she finally had a good enough hold over it, she turned herself toward the platinum blonde.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry. It happens all the time. Clumsy old me,” Anna attempted to dismiss Elsa’s worry with a shaky, self-deprecating laugh. Elsa eyed her strangely and Anna could see the concern in her older sibling’s eyes, but Anna quickly formulated a distraction so that Elsa couldn’t continue questioning her.

  “Hey, Els, look! Chocolate fondue! Let’s go get some,” Anna hastily said, linking her arm in Elsa’s. She knew that simply the touch would distract Elsa for a moment. It was something Elsa was so unused to and yet, after Anna openly showered her with it, she seemed to crave now.

  After a few short moments, the two were at the fondue table and Anna was searching through the various fruits that one could dip into the fountain of chocolate.

  “Ooh, strawberries! I love those,” Anna enthusiastically claimed, gingerly taking one from the bowl and dipping it into the fountain. She then popped it into her mouth, savoring the delectable taste of her favorite fruit mixed with the taste of her favorite food.

  “Aw, my gawsh. Dat ish good!” Anna enthused, her mouth full of food. Anna heard Elsa chuckle a bit.

  “I take it you’re enjoying it?” Elsa coolly questioned with her eyes half-lidded and an eyebrow raised, a casual smirk playing on her lips.

  “Why, yesh, of coursh. I shertainly am,” Anna replied around the delectable treat still stuffed in her cheeks.

  “You’d better stop stuffing your face, because you and a chipmunk have a frighteningly similar countenance at this point,” Elsa teased. Anna swallowed it all in one gulp, throwing a playful glare in Elsa’s direction.

  “The Princess of Arendelle as a chipmunk?! How dare you?” Anna faked being offended at Elsa’s comment.

  “Well, you are what you are,” Elsa factually responded.

  “Wow. That’s prophetic,” Anna shot back with a smirk.

  “My, my, Princess Anna. Ever the chocolate lover, eh?” the dignitary from the Northern Isles snidely observed with a cruel smile set thinly across his slightly aged face.

  Anna turned her gaze toward him, trepidation and hurt reflecting in her eyes. She knew that he wouldn’t succeed in saying that many offensive remarks since they were in Elsa’s presence, but she couldn’t help but doubt a bit.

  “My sister certainly enjoys her sweets. But don’t we all?” Elsa conversationally piped up. To anyone else, she would have sounded cordial, but Anna easily read the guarded undertone of her reply. Anna was torn between wanting to thank her sister and feeling a bit angry at the fact that Elsa was more important than her in that she could defend the younger with more ease than Anna could herself.

  “Indeed, your majesty,” the man responded with a small smile that was stretched across his visage in more of a grimace. As the man turned away, Anna barely picked up his last words.

  “Almost pig-like, wouldn’t you agree?” he murmured to the French ambassador alongside him. They both shared a loud laugh at that comment. Anna felt her stomach clench tightly at the statement, and she looked down at her hands forlornly.

  In just a few seconds, she felt Elsa’s hand on the side of her face, stroking Anna’s cheek gently with her thumb.

  “Anna, look at me,” Elsa gently commanded. Anna hesitantly raised her gaze to meet that of her older sister’s.

  She was met with the warm yet barely controlled angry stare of Elsa.

  “None of what that,” Elsa paused for a moment, seemingly collecting her emotions in an attempt to grasp better control of them, “man… said was true.”

  Anna nodded, looking back down at her feet quickly.

  “If you don’t mind, Els, I’m just going to go to the bathroom for a second. Y’know… To get cleaned up a bit,” Anna dejectedly murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Okay, Sunshine,” Elsa replied. She then smiled sadly yet lovingly and kissed Anna’s forehead.

  Anna allowed a ghost of a smile to grace her lips and then she turned to go to the restroom.

  She combed through a few groups of people and finally made it into the hall at the edge of the ballroom. Anna then sadly trudged to the room that happened to be right in front of her.

  Just as she was about to turn the doorknob, she looked down and saw something wet on the floor.

  She looked a bit closer and decided that someone must’ve spilled their water. Moving past this revelation, Anna then opened the door and quietly locked it behind her.  

  Just as she stepped in, Anna lost her footing and crashed to the floor, landing on her rear end hard.

  “Ow,” Anna stated as she tried to stand back up. Immediately, she started trying to slip.

  “Woah, woah, woah!” Anna cried, grabbing the sink with her hands while desperately attempting to keep her feet planted firmly.

  She watched out of the corner of her eye as her feet began to slowly slide backwards.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at her previously upright legs moved so that her body was straight. She held onto the sink with a death grip, absently noting the fact that her knuckles were turning white as Elsa’s snow.

  “Please, don’t!” she squeaked, shutting her eyes as tightly as she could and clung to the porcelain of the basin.

  When she opened her eyes finally after several moments, questioning why she didn’t feel like she was slipping anymore, she realized that her feet had hit the wall.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed. Anna looked up at her reflection, taking a quick assessment of what she looked like.

  She saw that, aside from her slightly bloodshot eyes, she looked just like she always did.

  Anna exhaled in relief, allowing her grip on the sink to loosen. Just as she realized her mistake, however, her hands slipped from the sink and she landed on the ground.

  “Ouch.”

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     Anna finally emerged from the bathroom after many minutes of toiling and trying to pull herself out of the bathroom along with placing towels on the floor.

  She quietly crossed the hall and peeked into the ballroom.

  It hadn’t changed at all from when she had left it, and everyone seemed just as merry as they were before. She couldn’t help but wryly note that no one ever noticed her presence. If she wanted, she could just disappear upstairs and go to bed early without anybody noticing.

  But she had a job to do. She had to make sure that Elsa felt comfortable in the foreign presence of the large crowd and the overwhelming volume of conversation and music.

  Anna lifted herself up on the tips of her toes, attempting to see her sister’s telltale platinum blonde hair through the thickness of the crowd.

  Anna suddenly heard a hearty laugh that she immediately recognized. She turned her head quickly in the direction of the mirthful noise. Her eyes widened as she spotted Elsa laughing and enjoying herself among several complete strangers.

  Anna immediately knew something wasn’t right with her sister. Elsa never laughed like that unless it was just her and Anna.

  She treaded the edge of the crowd, making her way to Elsa and the foreign dignitaries. When she finally got there, she walked up right behind Elsa and extended her hand.

  “Uh… Elsa? Are you okay?” Anna asked albeit hesitantly, poking her sister’s shoulder. She was then faced with the grinning face of Elsa.

  “Anna!” Elsa almost shouted. Anna’s eyes widened as she peered into the eldest’s eyes. “Have I told you how much I love you today?” The blonde furrowed her brow. “Well, not just today, but every day!” The ridiculous smile returned to her countenance.

  “You’re acting strange…” Elsa threw an arm over Anna’s shoulder, giggling a bit, and Anna caught the scent of what she identified as grape juice mixed with something else that was strange and different. Anna glanced at the hand attached to the arm that wasn’t flung around her. In its grasp was a cup of purple-black liquid.

  “Well, as you know, I’m a funny uncle!” Elsa claimed, cackling loudly. Anna face-palmed in embarrassment, becoming increasingly confused at her sister’s strange behavior.

  “Elsa, do you even understand the implications of that?” Anna whispered, trying desperately to ensure that nobody had heard Elsa’s weirdness.

  “Woah, dude! You’re starting to sound like me!” Elsa suddenly stated incredulously, her eyes wide and the corners of her lips quirked a bit.

  “Yeah, now pay attention. What have you been doing and how did you end up like this?” Anna questioned as patiently as she could muster. Elsa then got a confused look on her face.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you are right now,” Anna clarified a bit. She watched as Elsa’s bottom lip began to quiver and her eyes were becoming glassy with tears.

  “Do you not like who I am?” Elsa’s voice wavered, and Anna realized she was on the verge of tears. Anna’s eyes went wide and she grabbed Elsa’s hands.

  “No, no, no, no, no! I absolutely love who you are, Elsa. It’s okay.” As quickly as Anna confessed those words, Elsa immediately returned to the happy, goofy persona she had just a few seconds ago.

  “I love you, too, knucklehead,” Elsa expressed with a lopsided smile.

  Anna returned the grin albeit skeptically. She then turned around and rushed off to find Kristoff.

  The redhead glanced all around the thick crowd of dignitaries and various royals. She had to find Kristoff. Elsa was acting really abnormal. Not that she wasn’t abnormal in some sense of the word, but Anna considered that sort of abnormal normal.

  Her head was beginning to spin at all of the abnormal normality.

  Suddenly, in a shift of the crowd, Anna spotted shaggy dirty blonde hair.

  Anna began to make her way through, squeezing between people.

  “Excuse me. Oh, pardon me!” Anna sheepishly grinned in an attempt to provide some sort of apology when she received some indignant, snooty looks.

  “Kristoff!” Anna furiously whispered, trying to get his attention. She rolled her eyes in exasperation when she failed to get any response.

  “Kristoff!” Anna whispered again, trying to get closer to him. Finally, he happened to turn his head in her direction. She waved her hands above her head in a crazed manner, trying to get him to come over and meet her halfway.

  His eyes widened a bit and he sat his drink down on the table and began trying to scoot past people to Anna’s location.

  Once he was finally there, Anna immediately began a long stream of speech.

  “Good gosh, it takes forever to get your attention. Anyways, I need to talk to you about this situation I’ve got!” Barely pausing to take a breath, Anna lurched into her worrisome tale.

  “Okay, so Elsa was really, really nervous when we were first getting announced. Y’know, the whole ‘Queen Elsa of Arendelle and Princess Anna of Arendelle’ and all that good stuff.

  “So after that, I was kind of insulted in a roundabout way and when I left her alone for just a second because I had to go to the bathroom to freshen up she, of course, said it was okay. I mean, you don’t come between a girl and her looking in the mirror, you know what I mean?

  “So it took longer than I anticipated, like twenty minutes give or take for things that I’d really prefer not to get into right now…” Anna paused for just a moment, allowing herself a shudder in horror of the remembrance of her fiasco with the slippery flooring and the impossibility to walk.

  “Anywho, when I got back, Elsa’s talking to some boring folks from somewhere like Denmark or Sweden or England or something which is no surprise, of course. I mean, they probably tracked her down. But the real kicker is that she was actually laughing. And I don’t mean her usual polite chuckle she uses with everybody but me.

  “So when I got to where she was at and I asked her if she was okay, she turns around and starts loudly voicing how much she loves me and even said something about a,” Anna leaned a little closer to Kristoff so that no one would hear her next words, “funny uncle.” Kristoff’s eyes were increasingly resembling saucers.

  “And then when I asked her why in the world she was acting so strange, she got all emotional! So after all this weirdness, I decided I’d ask you if you had a clue what in the world is going on with her?” Anna finally finished her long uninterrupted ramble. She watched as Kristoff furrowed his brow and stroked his chin.

  After a few moments, a look of recognition sprung onto his face and he locked gazes with Anna.

  “Anna, did you happen to see if she was drinking anything?” Kristoff questioned albeit hesitantly. Anna thought for a moment.

  “Actually… Yes, I noticed she had a glass of grape juice in her hand when I came back to the party…” Kristoff nodded his head, a grim look on his face. Anna raised an eyebrow. “Does that matter?” Anna asked curiously.

  “Anna, I don’t think that Elsa drank grape juice.”

  “Well, what do you think she drank then, beverage expert?” Anna requested, trying to keep her patience at Kristoff’s strange behavior and seeming dread of her question.

  “Elsa drank wine,” Kristoff finally said, telling Anna plainly. Anna’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Oh, no….”    Then all of Elsa’s weirdness made sense. The wine must have been the strange scent she smelled in the midst of the grape juice scent.

  Anna knew exactly what wine did. It was not something that anyone should drink. She had read plenty enough books to know that if someone drank it and didn’t have a very good tolerance for it, they would act completely opposite of themselves. Or rather, some parts of their personalities were magnified as well as any mood swing they had.

  “I’ve got to go back and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid!” Anna exclaimed, turning around and pushing through the crowd as well as she could.

  At this point, she wasn’t even really thinking about the fact that she just left Kristoff in the middle of the crowd by himself. She was too worried about what might happen if Elsa continued to act like she was.

  She got on the tips of her toes, trying to see over all the people. She was suddenly cursing her decision to not wear heels.

  Anna tried to see if Elsa was in the same vicinity as where she left her. Unfortunately, her view was blocked when a tall man stepped back a bit. She huffed in aggravation. Anna pushed through the crowd more and started moving as fast as she could.

  Finally, she burst out of the crowd. She dusted her dress off a bit, trying to rid herself of the various foreign stinks from all of the strange people of the ball. Anna then immediately sprung into action, trying to find Elsa.

  “Have I ever told you boys about the time I caught my sister and her boyfriend-” Anna’s eyes widened in horror and she rushed over to Elsa. Anna grabbed her sister’s arm and yanked her so that Elsa was standing beside her.

  “Hello, gentleman, I need to borrow Queen Elsa. See you!” Anna smiled nervously, waving a bit before dragging Elsa away.

  “Hey, Anna! Oh, wait, I need to tell you something,” Anna’s eyes widened in dread. She had a feeling that what Elsa was going to say was not socially acceptable. And they weren’t that far from the gathering Elsa had been talking to.

  “That guy over there’s a drag queen!” Elsa proclaimed in a loud whisper. A very loud whisper, Anna couldn’t help but note. Anna slapped her face with a hand and groaned. She tried desperately to avoid glancing over at the group. Elsa then began pointing.

  “You see him, Anna? He’s the big, fat one over there with the elephant nose!” Elsa whispered at the same volume as before. “I think he’s a man dressed like a woman.”

  “Elsa, I know what a drag queen is. And that lady is not a drag queen.”

  “You mean it’s a really ugly woman?!” Elsa exclaimed, completely foregoing all semblances of quiet.

  “Shh!!!” Anna shushed, trying to get Elsa to quiet down. Elsa giggled and shushed back.

  “Come on, we need to get you out of here, Els,” Anna insisted, tightening her hold on Elsa’s arm.

  “But the party’s just begun! Besides, I found some tasty grape juice and I think I’m gonna go get me some more…” Elsa started to tug against her. Anna kept her feet firmly planted against the hardwood floor.

  “Elsa, you’ve been drinking wine.”

  “No!” Elsa adamantly disagreed. Then she suddenly got a strange look on her face. “Wait… Really?” she asked, seeming much more reasonable and Elsa-like. Anna exhaled in relief, seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

  “Yes, you have. And you really need to get out of here because we don’t need you saying inappropriate things to all these people in this party.”

  And just like that, Elsa’s lapse of sanity disappeared.

  “What?! Inappropriate? I’m the perfect picture of proprienty. Proprenty. Proprety. Propriety!” Elsa struggled with the words. Anna rolled her eyes.

  “Elsa, you called somebody a drag queen just a second ago,” Anna reminded her with a bit of a groan.

  “Oh, yeah. Hey, there it is over there!” Elsa started pointing again.

  “Elsa, stop doing that!” Anna hissed, grabbing Elsa’s hand. Elsa pulled her hand out of the younger’s grasp, threw her arm over Anna’s shoulder, and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  “You’re so cute when you’re a little angry bird.”

  “Come on, you big goof, let’s go.”

   “Wait, wait, wait! I need a sip of the magic juice!” Elsa grabbed a cup off of a passing servant’s tray and immediately downed it. What followed was a thunderous belch that Anna didn’t believe she’d ever hear Elsa do. “Whew, that was good!” Anna looked around in embarrassment and saw that several people were watching the inebriated queen and whispering amongst themselves.

  “Elsa, act queenly!” Anna pleaded, grabbing Elsa’s hands in her own. Elsa’s eyes widened and she burst into a wide grin.

  “Why didn’t you say so?! Hey, and I got another idea.” Elsa beckoned Anna closer. “Let’s pretend you’re a princess, too!” Elsa whispered, acting like it was the best idea in the world.

  “That’s a great idea, Els,” Anna humored her sister, playing along with Elsa’s drunken inklings.

  “Cool beans.” Elsa then straightened up, linking her arm in Anna’s and stumbling forward a bit. She giggled at her obvious mishap in walking.

  “Let us go, Princess. We’re single and ready to mingle.” Elsa walked along clumsily and Anna held onto her arm tightly so that the older girl wouldn’t fall. Elsa dragged them over to a small group of royals from various countries.

  “What is vibrating, breakfast dish of pork?” Elsa said in an overly eccentric voice. The little hope that Anna had for Elsa’s queenly act was completely gone with that statement.

  “I thought you said that you were going to act queenly,” Anna whispered in Elsa’s ear.

  “I am.” Anna rolled her eyes, but decided to give Elsa another chance. After all, it wouldn’t be appropriate if the queen hosting the ball suddenly disappeared. And people certainly didn’t seem to appreciate a lowly princess hosting it, Anna couldn’t help but note albeit bitterly.

  “So how’s the party, gents?” Elsa’s eyes widened as a servant passed with a tray of wine. Elsa quickly snagged and guzzled one before Anna could stop her. Anna huffed in aggravation.

  “Everything is quite well with us, your majesty. Your party is beautifully well-organized,” a mustachioed man complimented. Anna’s face fell a bit. Elsa hadn’t fashioned the party. It had been Anna that organized the arrangements.

  “I ‘ppreciate the kudos, but the real mastermind was the ‘Princess’ here,” Elsa emphasized the title Princess and winked at Anna. Anna then remembered that Elsa thought they were pretending to be Queen and Princess. Anna winked back, trying to appear natural in a situation that was completely unnatural.

  “Well, you have fashioned an excellent party, your highness.” Anna recoiled in surprise, not really expecting the commendation.

  “Oh! Thank you. It really was nothing,” Anna grinned widely, allowing herself to revel in the praise. In the midst of her flattery, Anna was also given the satisfaction that possibly Elsa wasn’t as intoxicated as she had originally thought. After all, Elsa seemed to remember who planned the party.

  “Please excuse us, fellas, I gotta run real quick,” Elsa suddenly proclaimed, pulling Anna behind her as she reached for a glass of wine on a nearby table.

  “Elsa! Don’t drink that!” Anna hissed, trying to take the drink from her. Soon Elsa was going to be completely wasted and considering how badly she was behaving when barely drunk, Anna dreaded seeing her any worse.

  But, using her height to her advantage, Elsa leaned away from Anna and slurped the cup down her throat. She hiccupped a bit, giggling at herself shortly thereafter.

  Then, before Anna could think, Elsa had another glass of wine and guzzled it as well. Elsa grinned, and Anna could practically see the transformation from semi-herself to completely not herself.

  “Elsa, don’t you drink another glass,” Anna scolded, just as Elsa grabbed another. Anna’s eyes widened and before Elsa could down that cup as well, Anna snagged it and sucked out all the contents.

  The taste that hit her throat was indescribable. It was the nastiest beverage she’d ever had the displeasure of drinking. Anna hacked and coughed, trying to get the horrid taste out of her mouth.

  Once the burn had mostly dissipated, Anna exasperatedly turned to her pouting older sister.

  “You drank ma booze.”

  “Elsa, you can’t drink booze.”

  “But I like it ‘cause,” Elsa whined. Then she suddenly burst out into boisterous song.

  “I love booze! Booze loves me! Holy crap,” she leaned closer to Anna and whispered, “I think I gots to pee!” Anna face-palmed in exasperation. “I’m feelin’ kinda woozy, might pass out on the floor, alcoholic matador!” Elsa burst out laughing at the last line for what Anna assessed was absolutely no reason at all.

  “Elsa, be quiet!” Anna grabbed her sister’s wrists, pulling her a bit closer. Elsa giggled a bit, leaning close so that her nose was touching the redhead’s.

  “Wow, you got pretty eyes. I wish I had blue eyes,” Elsa breathed in Anna’s face and grinned dopily. Anna rolled her eyes.

  “Elsa, you do have blue eyes,” she reminded her. The look of shock that crossed Elsa’s face was almost comical.

  “For reals?” Elsa questioned, her eyes filled with childlike wonder.

  “For reals. Now we’ve got to get a game plan,” Anna said, partially to herself as she was looking around the room, trying to devise some way to smuggle Elsa out of the ballroom so that she’d just mysteriously disappear.

  “OH! I love games. I’ll be you and you be me,” Elsa replied. Anna shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Elsa, I’ve got a different thing to try. Let’s play the silent game,” Anna diverted, only halfway paying attention as a plan started to formulate inside of her mind.

  “You already sound like borin’ ol’ me,” Elsa said with a smile. Anna nodded her head, barely listening.

  “Y’know, I wish I could be like you,” Elsa suddenly sadly admitted. Anna’s head snapped in Elsa’s direction quickly, her eyes a bit wide. “You’re so fun and openly loving. I’m just not no good at that stuff. Especially touchy-feely stuff.” Anna eyed Elsa in shock.

  Anna couldn’t believe that Elsa truly wished she could be like her. Anna had always wished she were more like Elsa. But for Elsa to wish she was like Anna? That was quite possibly the greatest honor that could ever be bestowed upon Anna.

  “Hey, there’s the drag queen!” Elsa nearly shouted. Well…. That moment was completely ruined.

  Anna’s eyes widened at the sudden exclamation and she clamped a hand over Elsa’s mouth.

  She grinned guiltily at the sight of the poor lady that Elsa continued to insult. The woman was eyeing the pair quite infuriatedly.

  Anna dragged Elsa off in the direction of Kristoff in an attempt to not only avoid the wrath of the angry woman but to also begin executing her escape plan.

  “Anna? Hey, Anna?” Anna turned to look at the older woman that she was dragging along.

  “Ya wanna dance?” Elsa had one eyebrow raised, her signature smirk gracing her features, and one eyelid drooping lower than the other. Overall, it looked frighteningly ridiculous.

  “Ah, no,” Anna replied shortly, continuing to tug. Elsa cackled and grabbed Anna’s arm with her free hand.

  “C’mon, jus’ a tango. I heard the spicy salsa music playin’ over here. Or wassat polka?” Elsa slurred, contemplating the words. Anna finally saw Kristoff again and she waved, trying to get his attention as her sister’s weight became gradually harder to bear.

  “Anna, ya look like a chicken with th’ faceova monkey,” Elsa giggled, and Anna was suddenly really dreading trying to get her to sleep when she was finally able to escape the party.

  This time, he picked up on Anna’s insane hand gestures immediately and rushed over.

  When Anna looked at Elsa, the older one had the most mortified and freaked out look Anna had ever seen on any drunk’s face. Of course, Elsa was the only drunk she’d ever seen.

  “Anna, it’s a funky lookin’ donkey. Since I love ya, I suggest ya run. I’ll dissitract ‘em,” Elsa whispered loudly and stumbled into Kristoff’s arms. He caught her with a bewildered look on his face.

  “Hey, good lookin’, goin’ ma way?” Elsa flirted, clearly trying to follow through with some half-witted plan she had stewing in her addled brain.

  Anna would’ve laughed at Kristoff’s glowing beet-red face if it wouldn’t have been for the circumstances at hand.

  “You’s a fine young man with a hair fulla mop. A mop fulla hair,” Elsa continued to struggle with the proper sequencing of the words.

   Anna decided she couldn’t take it anymore and she covered her mouth with a hand, snorting. Kristoff was delicately trying to remove Elsa from his grasp and pass her back over to Anna.

  Once he finally succeeded, Anna settled on wrapping her arm around Elsa’s waist to prevent any more trouble.

  “Anna! Yer still here! I think my suave attempts at flirtating aren’t workin’. He’s kinda ugly an’ it’s killin’ ma vibe,” Elsa said to Anna, her voice slightly hushed. Anna rolled her eyes and hoped that Kristoff hadn’t gotten too offended.

  “Now that that’s over. Kristoff, I need you to help me with this problem I’ve got,” Anna gave Elsa a pointed stare. The tall ice harvester eyed her in slight horror.

  “I need you to let Sven into the party as a distraction. At this point, I think it’s best that the party’s ruined because I can’t let Elsa go on like this.

  “Anna, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Kristoff, don’t you think that Elsa acting out while drunk is going to ruin her image more than a reindeer wrecking a party at the royal castle will?” Kristoff huffed in response. Anna glanced at her sister, who was turning her head and looking at all the people.

  “I gotta go,” Elsa suddenly stated. Anna eyed her strangely.

  “Where do you have to go to?”

  “I gotta visit John,” Elsa retorted as if it was the most blatantly obvious thing in the world.

  “And who is John?” Anna questioned, raising an eyebrow in complete confusion.

  “He’s a latrine,” Elsa said. Anna’s eyes widened in horror. Kristoff met her gaze, and Anna could see the disgust and worry in his as well.

  “Well, methinks we need to visit John. You got this?” Anna inquired. Kristoff nodded curtly once and turned quickly to slip out of the party. Anna exhaled in relief, and began to make her way to the nearest restroom.

  Just as she reached the doorway, Elsa decided that everything from the waist down was inoperable.

  “Elsa, come on, would you? Haul your rear end in here,” Anna grounded out at the sudden dead weight that she found herself pulling.

  “Can’t. Ma legs are larger than life an’ gravity’s pullin’ ‘em down,” Elsa mumbled, giggling a bit. Anna growled lowly, narrowing her eyes in irritation as she repositioned her grasp to Elsa’s arms.

  “I think it’s time to try defying gravity and stand up,” Anna claimed pulling upwards as hard as she could. Elsa simply stayed lying on the floor.

  “Fine,” Anna said, giving up and dropping Elsa’s arms. “If you want to lay there on the floor for the rest of the night, that’s your problem. I’m going to go do something better.” Anna began to walk off until something suddenly snagged her foot and she landed on her face.

  She whipped her head around from her grounded position and saw Elsa’s pale white hand holding onto her ankle.

  “Don’t leave me!!! I’ll behave like a good lil’ monkey. Just help me up,” Elsa promised, reaching out with both hands towards Anna. Anna blew a lock of hair out of her face exasperatedly.

  “Okay,” Anna consented, lifting herself up and hopping to her feet. She crouched beside Elsa and wrapped her arm around the eldest’s waist, lifting upward.

  Betwixt the both of them, Elsa staggered to her feet.

  “Victory!” Elsa whooped loudly shaking her closed fist in the air. Anna looked around nervously, hoping no one heard Elsa’s yelling.

  Anna then guided her to the bathroom, where she tried to instruct Elsa on what to do.

  “Okay, so you know the drill, right?” Anna questioned, feeling really awkward having to explain things to a twenty-one-year-old woman.

  “Yup,” Elsa replied, her eyes half-lidded. They stood there awkwardly staring at each other.

  “Uh, you need me to go?” Anna questioned, trying to escape the situation.

  “Nah, you can stay.” They stood there a bit longer.

  “Well, are you going to… you know?” Anna inquired concernedly, hoping that she really didn’t have to fully explain the functioning of things like that.

  “I am,” Elsa replied. Anna’s eyes widened in shock and horror. “I’m visitin’ him right now. I like ‘em a lot and I wanted to make sure he was okay while I was gone,” Elsa stated, and patted the water tank part of the toilet. Anna let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

  “Oooooookaaaay, Elsa…. I think that the toilet-”

  “John.”

  “Er, John… Is okay now. Let’s go upstairs and visit Mr. Fluffykins the bedspread,” Anna redirected, grabbing Elsa’s shoulders and guiding her out.

  “Yay!”

  Anna paused for a moment when they were parallel to the ballroom doorway. She craned her neck so she could see what was going on in the room.

  People were flailing around and Sven was rushing all around the room, knocking over tables and happily grunting and braying loudly.

  “Now thassa party!” Elsa exclaimed, trying to run out of Anna’s grasp to go join.

  “Stop, stop, stop!” Anna maintained her grasp on Elsa’s shoulders and repositioned the blonde so that she was now looking in the direction of the stairs.

  “Aww…. Can’t I have a lil’ bit of fun?” Elsa whined, her bottom lip protruding in an adorable pout.

  “You’re going to bed before anything else happens,” Anna answered factually. Elsa gave the ballroom one last longing look before they continued.

  “Look, Els, I’ll tuck you in and everything, okay?” Elsa then visibly brightened.

  “Really?!”

  “Really, really.”

  Anna pushed her to the staircase and wrapped her arm tightly around Elsa’s waist while grasping the railing firmly with her free hand.

  “You ready?” Anna asked, glancing at Elsa.

  “I was born ready,” Elsa proclaimed with a wide toothy grin, flinging her arm around Anna’s neck.

  “Alright,” Anna agreed and began trying to haul her sister up the stairs.

   ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “Hold on just a sec. I gotta rest,” the redhead huffed, letting go of her sister and plopping down on the floor near the wall between her and Elsa’s room doors. She leaned her head back against the wall, shutting her eyes for a moment.

  “Ooh.” Anna suddenly heard Elsa sound off. Shortly thereafter was a loud crash.

  Anna’s eyes shot open and she looked at Elsa who was sprawled out on the ground with shards of an antique vase that their mother had loved laying beneath her.

  “Oww,” Elsa whined, lifting herself up and her eyes welling up with tears. Anna rushed over and knelt down beside her, grabbing her shoulders and inspecting her front for any glass shards poking out of her.

  While Anna was searching, she suddenly heard Elsa giggle.

  “Hee, hee. I gots a boo-boo on ma finger.” Anna raised her gaze to Elsa’s hand.

  A piece of glass was protruding disgustingly from Elsa’s thin finger. Anna reached for Elsa’s hand and gently plucked it from the appendage.

  “Ouch!” Elsa yelped. Anna stood up and took Elsa’s wrists, pulling her up.

  “Let’s get you to bed, Elsa,” Anna said, peering into Elsa’s face.

  To Anna’s surprise, Elsa’s face was more green than her normal pale skin tone.

  “I don’t feel well,” Elsa suddenly claimed, more clearly than Anna had heard all night. That meant that Elsa must be sobering.

  “Okay. Let’s go to bed and if you need to puke, let me know. I’ll get something for you,” Anna reassured her as she began to guide Elsa in the direction of the Queen’s room.

  “Do you think we could go to your room instead?” Elsa questioned tentatively.

  Anna noticed that Elsa still looked by all means as if she were drunk. Especially since she was staggering a bit and couldn’t seem to stay fully upright. Anna absently wondered if Elsa would remember anything about this night at all.

  “Sure,” Anna replied, and they turned to continue to Anna’s room.

  Before long, Anna had helped Elsa slip on a green nightgown and had her tucked in Anna’s bed.

  Anna kissed Elsa’s forehead.

  “I love you, Els,” Anna expressed, smiling warmly.

  “I think the roles have reversed,” Elsa mumbled, her words barely intelligible. Anna giggled a bit.

  “You get some rest,” Anna said, starting to rise from her seated position on the bed.

  “Wait, Anna,” Elsa suddenly pleaded. Anna resettled herself.

  “Aren’t ya gonna stay with me?” Elsa questioned, her eyes wide and her hands clutching the top of the comforter. Overall, Anna couldn’t help but acknowledge just how cutely innocent and childlike Elsa looked.

  Anna looked up at the doorway and sighed in resignation, discarding her previous idea of checking on Kristoff.

  She turned back to Elsa with a happy smile.

  “Of course,” Anna agreed, nodding her head subtly along with her affirmation.

  She quickly changed into her nightgown and slid into bed with Elsa.

  “G’night,” Elsa murmured as she snuggled close to Anna.

  “Goodnight, Elsa.”

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

     “Oh, gosh,” Elsa groaned as she opened her eyes. She hissed and quickly closed them back.

  Her head was absolutely throbbing with pain and at this point, the memories of the previous day were quite foggy.

  “Good morning. How are you feeling?” Elsa heard a chipper voice inquire amiably. Elsa barely opened one eye to see her sister.

  “I feel like death,” she groggily rumbled as she felt Anna lean closer to take her temperature.

  “Whew, your morning breath smells like death, too,” Anna suddenly claimed. Elsa chuckled lowly, but quickly became solemn in wake of her growing curiosity surrounding the events of yesterday night.

  “What happened last night, Anna? Why do I feel so terrible? My head’s killing me and the sun is baking my eyes alive when I open them.”

  “Oh! I should probably draw the curtains. Give me a second.” Elsa heard Anna shuffle across the floor and after a moment, she noticed the light grow dimmer from behind her eyelids.

  She carefully cracked open her eyes, adjusting to the light of her surroundings.

  She watched as Anna resettled herself on the edge of the bed.

  “And as for what happened, I was going to ask if you remember,” Anna questioned with a sly grin.

  Elsa was silent, attempting to piece back together the scattered memories from the previous night. After only a few seconds, everything reconnected.

  “Oh, no,” Elsa moaned, covering her face with both hands.

  Insulting Northern Isles man, drag queen, repeated cups of wine guzzled, John. Elsa remembered every last detail and found herself utterly mortified.

  “Yeah, last night was rough,” Anna agreed sympathetically. “Lots of interesting things happened last night that I’d really like to never have happen again.” Anna quieted and at least in Elsa’s perception, seemed to be contemplating something. Judging by her depressed countenance, Elsa assumed that it was most likely thoughts about the dignitary from the Northern Isles.

  Elsa quietly reflected on what she assumed Anna was considering.

  Elsa truly despised it when people underestimated Anna’s capabilities as a royal and as a princess. Contrary to most people’s beliefs, Anna was exceedingly intelligent. She had proved it to Elsa time and time again when Elsa attempted to teach her something new.

  What bothered Elsa most was the fact that people judged Anna by her clumsy, silly mannerisms and her sometimes strange quirks. While most people didn’t converse regularly with paintings or trip over the same rug three times in a row, it didn’t make Anna any less great than everyone else.

  However, Elsa knew that, despite Anna’s laughter at her own mistakes, the younger girl was sometimes truly embarrassed and hurt by other people laughing at her. She also knew that the Northern Isles’ ambassador had offended and upset Anna terribly. And Elsa didn’t intend to allow her sister to continue letting him wound her.

  “Anna, I want to tell you something,” Elsa finally murmured after several moments of silence.

  “Hmm?” Anna shifted her gaze so that she was staring into Elsa’s eyes.

  “You’re not… Inferior to me or anyone else in any way,” Elsa confessed. She watched as Anna’s eyes averted from her own for just a second before resuming eye contact. “You’re quite possibly one of the most heartfelt, caring, funny, talented people that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. Don’t let one idiot stop you from knowing that.”

  Elsa watched as Anna silently processed this, looking down at her hands for a moment. When she looked back up at Elsa, the eldest girl saw tears shining in the redhead’s eyes.

  The blonde sucked in a breath a bit and hesitantly opened her arms, pushing past her insecurities and worries to do something that both her sister and herself would enjoy greatly. After only a few seconds, Elsa quickly found the redhead pressed against her in a tight embrace. Elsa snaked her arms around her baby sister, drawing her closer.

  “Thank you, Elsa,” she heard Anna murmur. Elsa nodded her head in acknowledgement.

  “I’m simply stating the truth,” Elsa replied. She held her sister for a few more moments until Anna finally spoke up, a teasing tone to her voice and Elsa could practically hear the mischievous smile that went with it.

  “Hey, Els, would you like to go with me to visit John?”

  “Oh, gosh, no.”

#drunk #funny #humor #elsa #anna #elsa of arendelle #anna of arendelle #kristoff #kristoff bjorman #frozen #disney #sisters #sister #sis #family #fam #familial #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #feels #all the feels

[tinymixtapes]

Feature: In Memoriam: Matt Shoemaker

Matthew Thomas Shoemaker, the Seattle-based experimental musician, died in August of this year. Unfortunately, Shoemaker’s time on this earth was cut short, but he leaves behind an impressive body of work by which he will be survived by friends and fans. Shoemaker split his artistic time between music and painting, where over the course of nearly 20 years he created hundreds of visual pieces and released eleven albums and two EPs. Shoemaker’s Instagram page is something to behold, showcasing an array of grotesque and beautiful artworks; the most exquisite of corpses at the mercy of a singular surrealist vision. And he was only getting better! A personal favourite of mine is not even a painting but an experiment in macro photography. Using only olive oil, water, food coloring, and salt on glass, Shoemaker captured a remarkable image that looks like a scene from some deep recess of the universe (It’s untitled, but I’ve come to think of it as “the fish head nebula”). Untitled macro photography experiment From an email interview I did with him back in March of 2010, and from online statements his friends have made about him since his passing, it’s become clear just how diverse and deep seeded Shoemaker’s passions were. Film was one of his main interests, and for a while he worked at Video Isle, a humble video store in Fremont, Seattle. In multiple statements, friends reminisced over hanging out with him there, and of “Matt’s Picks” being the ones to really watch for. One of my interview questions was about his love for avant-garde cinema, to which he was proud to say he had both a low and high brow, following up with a list of “a few favorites” that must have been something like 50 titles. I imagine him picking these off the top of his head, but years later here I am still referencing that list when movie night rolls around. Beyond film, Shoemaker was a seasoned traveler, spending significant time in Indonesia. It was here that his love of Gamelan and traditional Southeast Asian music blossomed. He had a knack for curation, investing his time in documenting selections of music from places like Java, Bali, and Thailand on his blog, Brain Goreng. As a contributing member of Gamelan Pacifica — an American ensemble that have been active since 1980 — Shoemaker continued to keep his love for music alive wherever he went. Shoemaker had a lot of passions, but they all informed one another. This is perhaps most evident in the music he produced, which was greatly shaped by his time abroad, his love of cinema, and his visual mind. Describing Shoemaker’s music has always been difficult, as anyone who is familiar with it will attest to its deep complexity and mystifying provenance — review any of his albums and you’ll quickly be at a loss for qualifiers. One thing that can be said for certain is that his work perhaps best exemplifies the no-pussyfooting tactic. His uncompromising vision left no wiggle room for casual tourism. Approach a Shoemaker work half-heartedly and you will be subsumed by it; its shear mass will swallow you whole. --- Initially, Shoemaker was interested in releasing music on Anomalous Records after befriending label head Eric Lanzillotta, but he ended up finding a home for his first two albums, Groundless (2000) and Warung Elusion (2002), on Trente Oiseaux. This early work still sounds like Shoemaker in his element, both providing a microcosmic window into what would later become his bread and butter: a minimalist’s fusing of analogue synthesis with field recording. On these initial albums, however, silence played just as important a role. Progressively his music became more to the point, but in terms of what best typified Shoemaker’s understanding of balance and patience, one needn’t look past this early era. 2005 saw the release of the Cd-r, Forking Path Navigator (Oblast), and the very limited cassette, Mambang Kuning (Stentorian). This was an integral time for Shoemaker’s career, a transitional period that bridged his early era to his most productive years. On Forking Path … one can hear Shoemaker feeling his way through, as though we’re meant to conclude that navigator and artist are one in the same. In retrospect the album was not a huge diversion from the Trente Oiseaux material, but the inclusion of bowed string drones, and an overall grimier fidelity, certainly added a grace note to his song. Pulling back the frame over Matt Shoemaker’s canon one quickly gathers a deeper appreciation for his grasp of the bigger picture, his preternatural inclination for continuity. However, zoom in again and you might find that no Shoemaker work is ever quite complete without the listener. Mambang Kuning was the closest Shoemaker dipped into his Gamelan influence. It’s still basically a noise album, but his usual festering dronescape is mixed around other bizarre ephemera, like children’s voices and the occasional pang of a heavy bell. It was rare to hear something this short from the man — the whole thing is under 15 minutes — but even in small doses his music can snake its way into the strata of human consciousness and linger there for hours. Though he was most prolific as a solo artist, Shoemaker was no stranger to collaboration. His most notable band was Omake & Johnson, teaming up with fellow musical malefactor David Knott (the two were actually roommates for a time). The duo played their first show in 2002, but their first official release, the Cd- r Headiferous Unctibulum, didn’t surface until 2008. The group would produce only one more album, Every Room Has a Grotto (2010). Both were released through Shoemaker’s own Human Faculties imprint. If anything, Omake & Johnson allowed for Shoemaker to loosen the stringency in his music, working alongside Knott in sonic territory that ranged from guttural electroacoustic to deconstructed folk. In the aforementioned interview, Shoemaker revealed that Omake & Johnson had hours and hours of recorded material stashed away. Here’s to hoping those will see the light of day sometime in the future. --- Shoemaker worked with the California label The Helen Scarsdale Agency (managed by the musical alchemist Jim Haynes, a prolific artist in his own right), who published the albums Spots in the Sun (2007) and Erosion of the Analogous Eye (2009). Timm Mason, who knew Shoemaker, shared a statement on his friend’s passing that included an interesting peek into his process: “It was not unusual for him to combine 30-40+ layers of audio — keeping all that sound from turning into formless nonsense is a feat and one of his unique talents.” Spots in the Sun is one of the supreme examples of this talent. Throughout the album, no matter how dense the audio, Shoemaker always maintained buoyancy, often toeing a fine line between form and chaos before elegantly steering a track into a quieter valley. Erosion of the Analogous Eye took things even further, as David Knott has pointed to Shoemaker’s use of “inscrutable signal paths that fragmented and recombined through electronics and quasi-stable homemade spring reverbs.” To the average person, that might sound like a whole lot of nonsense — even I only get half of it — but I do know that the album utilized stretched out slinkies as natural conduits for reverb. So, you have to admit, the man was not lacking in creativity. spots in the sun by matt shoemaker erosion of the analogous eye by matt shoemaker From here came the albums The Sunken Plethora Consumes All (Mystery Sea, 2009), Tropical Amnesia One (Ferns, 2010), and the EP Mutable Depths (Ferns, 2008). All were more focused on the field recording aspects of Shoemaker’s practice. His dronescapes were never without a psychedelic air, and it’s the recordings he incorporated from the tropical rain forest and Pacific Northwest mountains that helped elevate his music to that realm. In 2007 Shoemaker participated in a residency lead by Francisco López that took him to the heart of Amazonia. He spent morning, day and night recording the vast array of wildlife there, predominantly birds, dolphins, insects and frogs. Tropical Amnesia One is composed entirely of these recordings. Tropical Amnesia One by Matt Shoemaker From this point until the time of his death, Shoemaker came to release four more albums, The Late Day Spectrum (Master Chemical Society, 2013), and three for Dallas, Texas, based Elevator Bath. Colin Andrew Sheffield — the man behind Elevator Bath — was a friend of Shoemaker’s and holds a very high opinion of his art, describing it as “some of the most singular, dense, carefully arranged, and hauntingly beautiful work one is likely to find in this realm […] Matt was a born artist if I’ve ever met one.” A closer examination of Shoemaker’s Elevator Bath releases provides clout to Sheffield’s claim. The Isolated Agent / Stranding Behaviour (2010) LP saw a back-to-basics approach, stripping away all but cold tonality and an ever-present churn from home-assembled signal patches. Soundtrack for Dislocation (2010) was perhaps the most stoic of his works that utilized his full range of sound, while Flight | Chromatic Splitting Injunction (2015) broke new ground with experiments in tape splicing and a form of techno residing somewhere in the vein of retrocosmic. isolated agent | stranding behavior by matt shoemaker soundtrack for dislocation by matt shoemaker Pulling back the frame over Shoemaker’s canon one quickly gathers a deeper appreciation for his grasp of the bigger picture, his preternatural inclination for continuity. However, zoom in again and you might find that no Shoemaker work is ever quite complete without the listener. He once wrote, “I fully intend there to be an aspect to each release that’s really open to the listeners so that they can kind of complete the picture or give it their own meaning. It’s important to me that my music doesn’t say anything definite.” The music’s meaning was never the focus, but the music itself can be traced back to a man whose level of creative veracity was matched only by the lasting power of that which he created. At the very least, the talents, contributions, and spirit of Shoemaker won’t soon be forgotten. In honor of his life and art, Elevator Bath and The Helen Scarsdale Agency are offering all of Shoemaker’s releases free to download on Bandcamp. http://j.mp/2xkTVH8

[shardclan]

Compared to thousands of years trapped within ice and crystalspine, deaf to everything but the voice of the Chosen and unable to act in any meaningful fashion, the jailhouse of Clan Aphaster was comforting. The cell was frigid enough that icicles hung from its snout, but it wasn't the power of the Imprisoner. It was mere ice. Similarly, the imperial that had captured it was merely a common ice dragon.

But the one facet of possibility it still had the power to gaze into told Hitth that the true warden of the prison would whittle down its possible fates. Penitence was only a common ice dragon, but he served his lord's ideals absolutely. He was like to recognize that Hitth's eyes were frost-blinded and start asking complicated and invasive questions about what Hitth had done to invite so much of the Icewarden's ire. Lies would be fine enough, but someone connected to Penitence was not common. Not a Chosen, but favored for certain. There was no lie Hitth could speak or guise they could wear that would prevent them knowing its nature from a single glace.

Escape would not have been hard; Hitth could have been long gone if it only sought escape. But if it wished to linger in the lands of light, it could not make a fugitive of itself. It had to make its case and have them mark it as a free dragon.

The story that Hitth had suddenly woken up rather disoriented in the Starfall Isles was technically the truth. It didn't want to talk about why it was blind because it was a sensitive and personal subject, and that was the truth. It stumbled toward the portal because it sensed magic and assumed there would be other dragons to help it--that was true too. Where was it going now, where had it come from, did it need medical assistance, could it shift? All questions with reasonable, true enough answers. It just had to get through them, and they would let it be on its way.

Luckily for Hitth, Penitence was preoccupied with another matter altogether.

During the previous night, when the clan was restless from the absence of their queen and their knowledge that she had to present herself to the Arcanist, a requisition had been fulfilled. An order for a pearlcatcher breed change scroll on Margravine Caress' coin. It had specifically been set aside for pick up by Astrit, but when it came time for him to get it, it was clear something had gone wrong.

Qaseem had been been found inside a form fitting cocoon that looked horribly like Shade possession at first glance. The only indication it was anything else were the golden numerals wafting over his motionless form at intervals. He hadn't actually been harmed. If anything his posture, frozen in the act of some bit of written bureaucracy, suggested he hadn't even known anyone was there. Nothing at the warehouse had been touched either. Except for the pearlcatcher scroll.

Stellaria had arrived back home just in time to see Ashes hastily tossing on his robes with a look of keen worry in his eyes. She wouldn't usually have followed him, but perhaps she was in a strange state of mind after seeing her grandmother's resting place. It came as a surprise even to her that she wasn't turned away. This was a matter of the Logistics and Inventory sector, which she was a part of. If anything, her grandfather seemed comforted just knowing she was within his line of vision as he worked at undoing whatever had been done to Qaseem.

When all was said and done and the guardian was free again, it came to light that the only person with Qaseem that night had been Eosphoros. The imperial was nowhere to be found despite it being well past the opening hour of the food bank. A report from Margravine Maka at Thunder's March claimed he had crossed Hewn Canyon while the queen and her party were still in the Starfall Isles.

Penitence had gotten involved at that point, but in Stellaria's opinion he was a brute who had no idea how to approach the situation with anything but harshness.

"I'm telling you," she said patiently. "You've got no idea what the Hewn City is like."

"That's what Iblis and Carnelian are here for."

"Ah yes, these men who have never walked the ruined depths alone. They will know their way through tainted land where even the Weaver herself can shed no light."

"Much more out of you and I'll put you on ice, Tribune's kin or no."

Despite being a full head shorter than Penitence, Stellaria still managed to look down her nose at him with thoroughly unimpressed eyes. "I suppose I'll report your poor handling of this situation to Arcanus then?"

"Poor hand--" He snorted frost, agitation giving his dark skin a fine sheen of ice that steamed in the high temperatures. It was too close to Flameforger's for this. "There is a criminal in there. They stole--"

"A pearlcatcher scroll, I know. And have you thought any about why? Do you know anything about them at all?"

"I know they stole from Margravine Caress and if I don't get my hands on them, she will, and she will be far less kind."

Carnelian flicked his lighter just loud enough to cut through the hostility building between the two. Once the cigarette in his mouth was lit, he looked to Iblis and gestured back toward Noon Point. "Go home."

Iblis glanced nervously at Penitence. "But I was asked for."

"Because you're a ranger, but that's only in the Summerlands. We don't need you here. Go home, Iblis." He kept his eye on him until it was certain Iblis had made it back into the light before turning to Stellaria. "Where would Eosphoros have gone?"

"I can show you." She looked pointedly at Penitence. "If we go alone."

"Alright. Penitence, you'll excuse us."

Penitence blocked their path, eyes near white with contempt. "I'll do no such thing. It is my job as appointed by Telos to deal with criminals. Stellaria is a known friend to the criminal and you're shadow-born. What kind of fool would take either of you at your word about apprehending the thief?"

"You're so caught up on the crime itself you haven't thought about motive at all." He blew smoke between them. "Think, you glacier-brained fuck. One of The Parhelia stole a scroll that can turn its target into a pearlcatcher."

Stellaria hugged herself tight. "Eosphoros has no love of money or material, and bears no ill will against others. They didn't flee here to make some secret exchange or to use it on some enemy. They came here to be alone."

Penitence stared at both of them. The implication was not lost on him, he just didn't care about such details. A crime had been committed and that was the bottom line. Still, it seemed apparent that a talking-down might be needed here. If Eosphoros used that scroll...

"I'll await you at Thunder's March," he said begrudgingly. "If you dare show your faces without Eosphoros in your custody, neither of you will see the light of day until the Starfall Celebration."

Both of them kept their silence until the stodgy ice dragon was gone. Before, neither Stellaria nor Carnelian had paid the other much mind. Seeing one another at the graves the night before was the closest they'd come to ever interacting. For Stellaria, this was awkward. For Carnelian, it left him irritated. First Atsushi had come around apologizing for...well, everything. Offering feelings that were actually recognizable as normal--dare he say healthy or even genuine?--expressions of attachment. And now this girl. This headstrong girl who didn't know how to back down and despite her prim and pretty appearance would get into the dirtiest kind of brawl if it was for someone she cared about.

Looking out for her felt too familiar. Itchy, even. "Ashes will go to fucking pieces if anything happens to you, and the clan is really relying on his expertise right now. Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"I know where they would go," she said certainly "That'll be good enough."

#Flight Rising #New Days Dawn #Decided to make this a 2 parter #Mostly because I super wasn't expecting this surprise fatherly chemistry from Carnelian toward Stellaria #And because I want the next post to really focus on Eosphoros #Their relationship with their status as one of The Parhelia and their relationship with Stellari #C: Stellaria #C: Carnelian #C: Penitence