#i told him about the younger generation and the whole fucking campaign against the word queer

[les-bi-katamari]

SESSION 13 (4/1/18)

Brianne checks in on Ghorza to ask about her hunger, which Ghorza deflects, looking conflicted. Ghorza carries the spy down to the dungeons, along with Megs; the rest of the party goes after Ivandra to check on her and Silenne.

[The others arrive at Silenne’s chambers, where Ivandra is cradling her in her arms. Silenne is clearly very battered, with horrible rope marks. Brianne comes forward to heal her, and uses Goodberry, since it also provides nourishment. Silenne wakes fitfully, and Ivandra comforts her, lifting her onto the bed with the questionable assistance of 6-Str Brianne. Cadence also provides healing, and Apphia gives her the Cloak of Comforting. Apphia leads Ivandra out for a talk, and Cadence and Brianne bond, with Brianne overcoming her furryphobia.]

[Imp: “OHHHH! Was that why you asked Ghorza about hunger?” Gwen: “Maaaaybe? Yeah, I picked out that spell because of Ghorza’s hunger.” Imp: “Awwwwwwwww! That’s so gay!”]

[In the Solarium, Apphia confronts Ivandra - about wanting to kill the spy, about her ‘playing for the other side.’ Ivandra finally confesses, “I-I made a terrible mistake, when I was younger.” “What mistake?” Ivandra breaks down crying. “There are no words for the unspeakable. I… made a deal, with a devil. She and I have been acquainted for some time - I met Glasya some time after mother died. I didn’t know what she was, then, but she had kind words when no one else had kindness to spare. I was enamored with the kindness and care she showed me. For years, she encouraged my studies, and filled my mind with possibilities I never could have entertained without her. At first, all I had to do was listen. And she was my closest friend. I grew to resent that no-one else recognized what she recognized in me, and she encouraged this. She offered to help me reclaim my birthright, fulfill my ambition - at a price. At the time, she was the only one to put any value to my soul.” “Y-you SOLD yourself? To Glasya?” “Yes. At cost. Because I placed very little faith in that. There is no way of softening this. Of cleaning it. This is a flaw that cannot be polished away. I’m so sorry for holding so fast to you for as long as I have. You have always deserved better than a devil’s whore.”]

[“I asked her to turn it back, after the accidents, the mysterious illnesses, as I put the pattern together. But she told me she was bound to the deal as I was, and that my disliking it could not change that. I know this does not absolve me.” “Did you know more about this? THIS? Did you lie to me about this?” “N-no! No, Apphia, I swear! Last time I spoke to you, I told you my intentions were good. They have not always been - but I was not lying to you that day. Glasya may have bought me, but I am still my own woman, I can- she asks for more every day. When I deny her, it is not enough to wrest my soul back, but- My path is not predestined in life. Only after it. After meeting you-” “Don’t.” “I’m sorry. Of course.” “What does she want?” “What all of her kind want. Power. She wants to usurp her father. She wants divinity.” “I thought I had already seen the worst thing I would see today… I don’t know what to say to you.” “I don’t know if anything can be said. This is all I am. I don’t know if you can even still call me friend. But… I am sworn to see this through. I will do everything I can to aid you, to help put this right.” “That’s a true devil’s choice, then.” “Whatever you need. I am at your service.” Apphia leaves her, nothing more to say.]

Meanwhile, Ghorza has asked Megs to go fetch Nemeth, so she can be there for the interrogation. [Megs run into Apphia as they’re both heading back to the Forge and tries to comfort her, only to be met with stony silence. Apphia arrives at the Forge, nodding hello to Ghorza’s moms - who share a look of concern - and heads straight to Ghorza’s room. The Isvaniran soldiers are still there playing cards - Nemeth has taken alllll their money. She’s the cat who got the cream; they look like they’re regretting not being got by the demon. Megs leads Nemeth back to the castle.]

Back at the castle, Ghorza has decided to wash the prisoner’s face rather than throw a bucket of water at her, because it’s MORE unnerving. After some failed attempts at intimidation, Ghorza suddenly sees the spy recoil in terror of her, seeming to look through her - above her? The others in the room are eyeing her strangely as well, but the spy begins to talk.

“We’ve got people out at Tarjanir, getting things set up, a ritual site. I don’t know what’s out there, I wasn’t a part of that. He’s bringing up everyone from down south to get this locked down.”

“Cyric is hated by all other gods. He has no allies; there’s no god he hasn’t betrayed in some way. But the lower powers, fiends, some demon princes. Devils were starting to get their claws where they shouldn’t. Cyric figures he’ll throw in with the side of the Blood War that he stands to gain from, keep the devils back.”

Silenne was replaced because she’s a big player. Ivandra was seen as threat because of ties to Hell - a devil has her ‘wrapped around her finger’.

Ghorza starts ranting about how Galaias will turn on Cyric and try to devour him, dooming the whole mortal plane. The spy tries to protest that Cyric is powerful.

“I was in the gutters when Oswin found me, nothing but pain and sorrow to my name. But he is powerful, Cyric is powerful.” Nemeth is outraged, and pushes in front to say “You think he’s your friend?! You think he sees anything in you? He found a PAWN in that gutter. You know what he told me?” She recounts how Reaver killed her parents, and took her, telling her she could be a good person and die with her parents, or come with him and become a terrible thing.

Nemeth runs off; we finish the interrogation (no new info on Ardazhan). Ghorza advises the shell-shocked spy to throw herself on the mercy of the court, and pointedly ignores Galaias’s voice in her head telling her “MERCY IS FOR THE WEAK! FINISH HER NOW!”

Megs heads off to try to find Nemeth. Ghorza steels herself to go report to Ivandra. There she lays out the good news from Aldessein, and the other results of the interrogation, before addressing the elephant in the room. She tells Ivandra that she remains her loyal servant, and trusts her with the work against Galaias and Cyric. They have a heart-to-heart about being chosen by fiends; Ivandra professes her faith that Ghorza will not fall, and Ghorza says she firmly believes that Ivandra can be free as well.

Everyone eventually meets back up at the Forge, and debriefs a bit about the news on Cyric and the ritual and Tarjanir and Ardazhan. Ghorza pulls Brianne aside to tell her that the hunger is not overwhelming, but is still there - and she offers her a Goodberry, which very much helps to soothe Ghorza; she lifts up Brianne in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Apphia sits up slowly from the bedroll she’s been wrapped in.

A: “...Reaver wants the lens.” G: “Yeah… I still don’t see how the plane of dreams fits in to his Blood War deal.” A: “The lens is attuned to the Plane of Dreams. What if it could be attuned to a different plane?” G, paling: “The Abyss? You think he’s gonna open a portal to the Abyss?” A: “He certainly might be able to.”

We talk a bit more about plans going forward.

KNOWN THREATS -Reaver and the cult of Cyric --ritual at Tarjanir -Galaias's hordes --Ardazhan --the whole fucking forest -Isvaniran cultists of Galaias? -Isvanir in general -memory-stealing monsters -the devils [ooc: UNKNOWN THREATS -Vengeful spirit of Brandt -Penguins -Evil trees -Flying boats -Feudalism and class society]

Eventually we decide: since everyone is SUPER stressed, we’re taking the next day (day 6 of the campaign) off for downtime. Then, we send the raven to Reaper to tell him to meet us in Vassarein in 24 hours if he wants an ass-kicking. Then, we’ll go to Rothanvar to check out the library and hopefully get more info. After that, maybe Ardazhan?

End of session.

#recap #day 5

[chelseawolfemusic]

Chelsea Wolfe interview ahead of GIRLSCHOOL performance // Lenny

photo by Kristin Cofer // words by Dianca Potts

Last January, GIRLSCHOOL, an LA-based collective dedicated to supporting women in music, celebrated its inaugural music festival at Bootleg Theater. Featuring acts like Gothic Tropic and Maria Taylor, GIRLSCHOOL's first festival confirmed that powerful things can happen when women collaborate for the greater good. This year, founder Anna Bulbrook and co-founder Jasmine Lywen-Dill hope to conjure a similar spirit of solidarity and community. "It's my ultimate dream to have a nexus of incredible women thinkers and doers around us," Anna says. This year's lineup is not only intersectional but also sonically diverse. "In today's political climate, it especially matters to have these outlets that unify and celebrate women," Jasmine says. "I hope [we] can be a vehicle for change and for raising awareness of girl-positive organizations in the arts." Set to kick off this Friday, GIRLSCHOOL's weekend extravaganza is exactly what we need right now. I was lucky enough to catch up with the festival's headliner, the forever busy and immensely talented Chelsea Wolfe. Best known for haunting dirges like "Dragged Out" and hypnotic ballads like "Mer" and "Feral Love," Chelsea's fusion of folklore, Jungian theory, and gothic motifs is as beautiful as it is brooding. A week before the festival, I chatted with Chelsea — who's currently working on a new album — about the importance of taking credit for your work and why darkness isn't always a bad thing.

Dianca Potts: What did music mean to you when you were growing up?

Chelsea Wolfe: When I was a kid, my parents divorced, and my mom was always a creative person herself, making clothes, drawing, and painting, and she'd listen to great music like Joni Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt. On the weekends I'd go to my dad's house, where he had a home studio for recording and practicing with the country band he had with my stepmom. Hearing them harmonize and work on Fleetwood Mac covers was my first inspiration to write my own songs.

I really connected with Lindsey Buckingham's voice. I think I took some vocal styling from him back then that I still use today. Over the years, I've been drawn to singers and bands with androgynous voices — Nina Simone, Placebo, and bands who go to extremes musically, like Sunn O))) and Swans. I find some comfort in things that aren't easy to define, maybe because I always felt like I was an in-between myself.

DP: In a feature for Under the Radar, you mentioned that in the past you haven't given yourself enough credit for the work that you do. I feel like this is something that a lot of creatives, especially women, struggle with. What advice would you give to younger creatives who feel hesitant to celebrate their accomplishments in fear of coming off as prideful?

CW: I'm glad you're bringing that feature up. I spent a lot of time doing a full interview about "sexism and misogyny in the music industry" and they only used that one line from it, of course. I do think there's kind of an unspoken societal thing where we're not supposed to talk about our accomplishments very much. I always felt like my work spoke for itself, and I wanted people to be able to relate to it in their own way, without everything being over-explained. But as I slowly gained more of an audience, someone's gonna be offended by what you're doing, and there was a person who tried to start a campaign against me, making false claims of what I was inspired by or what my music and videos meant. I didn't fight back publicly because, well, I'd rather spend my time on music than Internet drama, but all my friends in real life and in the music industry who knew about this reached out to me with messages of love and support and reminders that they know I've always followed my own path and been true to myself. That was really heartening when I was bummed about being attacked like that. I learned that I need to take credit for my work more publicly, and be a little more outgoing with what I share about myself and my music.

My advice to younger female and nonbinary artists is this: take credit for your work, always and rigorously, otherwise some jerk might come along and try to take the credit for you, or they'll say that a man wrote your songs for you. Fuck that. I think Grimes is a great example of someone who makes sure it's known that her work, ideas, and production are her own. Follow her lead.

DP: Your music is often described as dark. What do you feel is the value of exploring the dark side of emotion and human experience?

CW: From a young age, I wanted to know both sides to every story. I used to have these recurring nightmares of macro and micro. I would be in a white room with an object in the middle, like a book or a telephone, and the object would grow really, really large and fill the room, smashing me against the wall, and then the object would grow small again, back and forth. It was maddening, but I think it kind of represents how I approach writing songs. I'm hyperaware of the macro, the world as a whole, and all the fucked-up things that are happening at the same time: bombings, rapes, suicides. That is all really dark stuff to write about, but it's not like I'm making it up. At the same time, I'm also able to focus in on my own life or community and write a song that comes from there. It's all a contrast of the hideousness of life and the beauty of life. My first album, The Grime and the Glow, was kind of the beginning of this exploration in contrasts.

DP: How did you get involved with GIRLSCHOOL?

CW: Through the Echo Society, which is a group of composers who put together this great night of original music with an orchestra and guest collaborators each year. They reached out to me to compose a piece, which I did with the help of my bandmate Ben Chisholm, since he's a master of arranging string samples and percussive elements. Anna Bulbrook was running the Echo Society show in LA. On day one of the rehearsals, I was in the wrong place at the right time, and Anna was so kind as to relocate me to the place I was supposed to be.

On the drive there, we got to know each other a bit, and she told me about GIRLSCHOOL. I had heard of it before and was blown away to be talking with the person who started it. My drummer Jess Gowrie and I had just been talking about how inspiring it is to see women musicians onstage when you're a young, aspiring female musician, and we were hoping that we could help do the same for the younger generation. So when Anna said there was a festival involved, I was like, "If you'd ever want my band to play, I'd be honored."

DP: What makes organizations like GIRLSCHOOL so vital?

CW: They normalize the idea of an instrument in a young woman's hands, or a woman being the leader of a band. And of course they encourage young people to explore music and the arts and gain confidence and self-acceptance through that. I know I grew up feeling the pressure to be society's typical, subdued definition of "feminine," even though I never felt that way inside, and my body type has never represented that either. It was difficult for me to assert myself as an artist when I was starting out. I'm here representing for the late bloomers. Nowadays I think a lot of younger folks are moving past all those antiquated gender restraints much quicker than I did, which is great to see.

(via Lenny)

#chelsea wolfe #lenny #girlschool #sargent house

[theislesunfamily]

[Your Affairs] Who Needs a Will?

It’s been a frustrating afternoon.

Ithanar spends what feels like too long in the study upstairs, shuffling through files upon files, nicking a few choice fingers with paper cuts. Who ever would’ve thought those hurt so damn much? His fingers aren’t just hurting, but his ego is too… just a bit.

It’s been a frustrating afternoon, and paperwork has never been his forté.

His gaze returns to his desk, only a small portion of the mess the study has become in recent hours. Files are strewn everywhere in haphazard fashion,  and stacks of parchment rest in the most peculiar of places (how did he fit a whole stack of them on the globe in one of the nooks?). The old elf growls, looking at one of the cuts on his index finger and shaking his head at it, as though that may make the thing seal out of fright.

“Having trouble?” Hylaen asks from the doorway, appearing from out of nowhere. His form rests against the frame, as he tends to do, a smirk etched across thin lips. “What are you looking for?”

Ithanar shifts his gaze up and in the elf’s direction, shrugging a shoulder and letting out an exasperated sigh before gesturing to the clutter around him. “My will,” he says plainly, as though having to look over the document designed to be the lay of the land after death isn’t a gargantuan deal.

It isn’t. This isn’t the first time he’s had to look over the thing, and it most certainly won’t be the last.

Or will it? That particular thought flutters around the back of his mind for a moment, but only that before he lets it fade away. 

“Oh, you… uhm… You kept it in the bookcase, remember?” Hylaen says, pushing off from the doorway and pacing across the room, certain to not knock over anything with his adroit steps as he shifts up to a bookcase on the other side of the room and looking over the tomes there. After a moment, he lets out a small “aha!” and pulls out what apparently is the right one, a thick thing with a dark blue cover.

“Probably should’ve asked you for help then,” the old elf grumbles, sucking on a paper cut on his thumb but only for a moment. “But I didn’t want to-”

“You’re awful with paperwork, so you should always ask for help,” the younger elf responds as he opens the tome and pulls out a small stack of parchment hidden between the back cover and final page. “Just looking it over before you leave?”

The silver-haired elf nods once, shuffling over to the chair behind the desk and falling into the seat, kicking his legs up atop the surface. He nearly wipes out another stack of parchment, but quick thinking saves it from certain doom on the floor below.

“Yes, I was planning to,” Ithanar answers once he settles in, hands clasping over his belly. “Perhaps making a few changes as well.”

One of Hylaen’s thin brows perks in curiosity at this statement, but he doesn’t comment on it immediately. No, he looks over the will in detail, lips curling in a frown before looking up at Ithanar. “Want me to read it aloud? We can go over it together,” he asks, leaning against the bookcase behind him.

“Why not?” Ithanar says casually, spinning in his chair to look in Hylaen’s direction. This time, his feet do kick up a stack of parchment, which explodes into the air, which is accompanied by an exasperated growl before he sits up to try and gather them all again. “Damn it all! Just… Hylaen, just skip the-”

“I, Ithanar Islesun-” Hylaen begins with a smirk, watching the drama unfold.

“Fuck off!” The older elf barks in his direction, though it’s uncertain whether Hylaen is the intended target… or a rather devious piece of parchment which evades his grasp.

“You really want me to skip this glorious introduction?” The younger elf quips from his spot, holding the stack in both hands. “Did you write this? The Honorable and Right-”

“Just read the damn thing, Hylaen…” Ithanar insists exasperatedly, having finally put the stack back together. No paper cuts this time, so he takes it as a victory.

“Oh, fine, fine… do you want to get to- which part is most important for you?” Hylaen asks, gaze back on the parchment as he looks it over.

Ithanar waits for a moment to answer, lips turning thoughtfully. He looks up at the ceiling, head tilting back and forth. “I…” He finally answers after a while. “Well, you tell me.”

“You’re much too casual about this,” the younger elf responds almost too quickly. “I think this whole affair is important in general. This is your will we’re talking about here.”

All this sounds familiar. Too familiar.

Ithanar knows his almost too cavalier attitude when it comes to sort of thing often leads to conversations like this unraveling. At this point, he’d almost rather not have this discussion. It’s been a frustrating afternoon, and working on his will has never been his forté.

“Sure?” He finally answers, once again too casual which draws a groan from Hylaen.

“You don’t think so? You don’t think this imp-” The raven-haired elf tries to say.

“Don’t do this, not right now. Just… who have I left my possessions to?” Ithanar interjects, arms crossing his chest now. He’s put his foot down, figuratively, given both feet are still resting on the desk.

“To Ithaerin…” Hylaen begins without pause or reluctance, appearing to have given up on the endeavor of stressing the importance of this.

“Strike him from the record,” the older elf interrupts again, drawing a furious glare from the elf leaning against the bookcase. “I’m not-”

“Ithanar. You cannot be serious!” The younger elf interrupts, fury showing in a sharp tone as he pushes off the bookcase and raises his arms wide.

“Yes, I am,” he responds with his own glare, lips twisting now in a furious snarl. “Completely serious, which is what you were looking for earlier, right?”

“I assume then Inthius should be stricken from the will?” Hylaen snaps, drawing an uncomfortable silence.

It’s a clean thing, clashing with the mess around the room as both men glare daggers at each other. Ithanar considers his next words carefully now, rid of his cavalier demeanor from earlier. This whole conversation has struck quite a nerve.

“Yes…” Ithanar answers, almost saying something more but deciding to close his mouth.

“Let me guess… Il-” The other elf asks, his glare now directed toward the page as though incredibly furious at it instead of his friend.

“Yes, yes, especially her,” Ithanar counters with another growl and his own narrowing stare, teeth bared. He has no plans to include her in the will no matter how much Hylaen might protest… which he immediately does in unsurprising fashion.

“You haven’t even spoken to her about this? About where you’re going?” He inquires, gaze back on Ithanar.

“No, and I don’t plan to,” the older elf responds flatly, gaze shifting out the window to those murky night skies again.  

“Then your will is blank. You realize this, don’t you?” Hylaen states, shaking the stack back and forth in a hand. Again, he isn’t wrong. He never is.

“I’ll leave something to Ris then,” Ithanar responds, still looking out the window. He’s ready for this conversation to be over, but he knows it’s far from it.

“Morningrey?” The younger elf asks, sounding incredulous.

Once upon a time, she actually might’ve been part of the family but that fell through, and for the best. She was too young, and Ithanar… he wasn’t one to be tied down, not then and possibly not now either.

Possibly never. There’s enough on his mind.

“Saoris, yes. I never exactly got back to her after-” He says, attempting to make sure he’s getting the correct Morningrey added to the will.

“Ithanar, can you please take this seriously?” Hylaen threatens, both hands tightening around the stack of parchment to a point where he may tear it all apart.

“I told you I was being serious, Hylaen,” Ithanar responds curtly, looking back at his companion now. “Given how involved you seem to want to be, why don’t you just execute the will and make the decisions.”

A scoff and an angry yell gives way to Hylaen stomping across the room and slamming the parchment against the desk. He doesn’t get this frustrated too often, but Ithanar has indeed struck a nerve to the point where the younger elf gives him a stare that is full of both fury and terror.

“I am not picking up after your mess… no, never, I’ve done enough of that!” He growls in the silver-haired elf’s face.

Ithanar stares right back at him unblinkingly, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Hylaen’s face. There’s another quiet moment, this one tense, perhaps a breaking point of a sort before the older elf finally gives way and leans back, sighing, hand rising to rub his temples.

“I’ll take care of it then. Just… just go,” the old elf says, waving his free hand to try and usher Hylaen from the room.

“Will you?” The younger elf demands, rising from the spot and already pacing across the room toward the door. He stops for a moment and turns, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Ithanar growls once more, watching Hylaen leave the room at that. The old elf’s gaze returns to the window, a calm quiet reaching across the mess and settling over the room.

He knows that he won’t take care of it. Without a family member on it, there’s really no need for a will. Not anymore.

Besides, it’s been a frustrating afternoon, and paperwork has never been his forté.

Written for the “Your Affairs” quest for Turn One of the “Edge of Night” campaign.

#ithanar #hylaen #writing #the sunguard