#mortal coil history lessons

[mortallycoiled]

first part of the mortally coiled timeline, covering the Creation Era. The Creation Era (or first era) is the longest era by far due to spanning from the formation of the Mortal Coil up the first death credited to Noxa Krov. i haven't nailed down the actual span yet, so it's not to scale (especially considering the time pre-main world life is a way way way WAY longer time span than the rest of the era. the little squiggle between the creation of the first sun and khetzal encompasses an impossibly long and practically uncountable amount of time.)

#worldbuild #mc #c1 #mortal coil history lessons #working on the destruction era timeline next #this isnt even cycle 1 yet lol #btw the eras are the creation era / destruction era / balance era / (REDACTED) era #aka i havent decided on what to name the last era yet

[confusedraven1]

i know everyone is ripping on ed’s dramatic ass for this back piece (fair), but there’s a lot happening here & it’s incredibly clever of whoever designed this!

just a forewarning, im not a tattoo artist nor an expert on the history of tattoos, just an enthusiast with google. also, “meanings” behind tattoos, even traditional ones, are kind of muddied in the internet, not to mention the variety of cultures that have different meanings attached to different imagery, so a lot of what i find is through a white western lens, but i found what i could.

“Trust No One” — yes, that is the bit everyone is laughing at, but it’s a very common tattoo! (probably why everyone’s laughing but i digress) usually i see it paired with a biting snake handshake, but the sentiment is pretty obvious, and a clear lesson learned.

the skull is pretty self explanatory: could be the fearlessness of death, rebirth, remembrance, or a reminder. i think in ed’s case, this could be all of these things, but also to remind himself of the things he’s done and the one man he’s killed.

the spiderwebs!! i wasn’t sure if there was much meaning behind those, but i checked anyway and apparently they represent struggles that have been overcome! we can imagine there’s quite a few in ed’s life, but we also know he has some deep rooted issues to face still.

the snake is where i got hung up. a two-headed snake symbolizes transformation, rebirth, and renewal or indecision, while a traditional snake tattoo can represent potency/power, but also wisdom or rebirth. this snake (the bottom head) isn’t coiled or baring it’s teeth so that end at least isn’t on the defensive. it’s so hard to tell with the top head, but it appears that one’s jaw is closed as well. here’s where it gets interesting: i looked and looked, but i couldn’t find ANYTHING about a CRYING snake! (the closest was a crying medusa)

the snake and skull combined usually represent the cycle of life and death, but it could also show as a warning of mortality. this is also fairly self explanatory, but i figured it was worth mentioning it.

SO. i think that the snake/skull bit of the tattoo is a visual representation of how ed sees himself, or at least how he did whenever he got it (it’s much too faded to be a breakup tat. plus i’m sure he has lots of reasons to not trust ppl. stede ain’t *that* special lmao).

its a reminder of his father’s murder and how heavily it weighs on his back, permanently, despite the other things in life he overcomes. the two heads of the snake represent the two sides of himself: edward and blackbeard. in a way, he was “reborn” as blackbeard, but now he’s stuck with two identities he can’t balance. i THINK the snakes are crying because of that lack of control and mourning the way they aren’t able to continue the rebirth cycle.

and, just for funsies, the snake slithers through both eye sockets cause ed is blinded by indecision and his past actions. he doesn’t know what he wants yet, but he KNOWS that he wants something different.

AND, despite ALL OF THAT, he ironically knows that the only person he can truly rely on is himself. after all, what kind of a pirate has friends? they’re all just in various stages of fucking each other over 🏴‍☠️

MAYBE IM WRONG ABOUT THIS. maybe i’m just trying to find meaning where there is none and taika just thought that looked cool as fuck so that’s what he chose lmao

anyway, thanks for reading, i love tattoos and their history 🥰🏴‍☠️🖤

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd meta #edward teach #blackbeard #tattoos

[scarletooyoroi]

Where the pomegranates sing,

The apples clap,

And the Forest remembers.

Deep within this land enriched by vitality of all forms, producing bounties, fostering strength, a residual feeling of home sears within the faithful staff in his hands. Despite being immersed in the scale of history ranging from the call of that unbound flame, to the many hands that carried it some iteration of it with varying degrees of success, how long has it been in that well of consciousness that this very weapon could feel this sensation again.

How the emerald flash of greenery bounced upon the sunlight, how this beloved vitality became the reason that it turns malady and strife in the toll of ashes to welcome such dangers to oblivion itself?

This particular wielder who also has been blessed by the unbound flame of the world seemed to hold a touch more understanding. Despite this form of pseudo sentience being a fading brand of awareness, the blonde warrior held a means of allowing life to flow in the form of will. From times experienced around Inazuman weaponry, against the well kept to the shoddy, to the malicious lined to the equally strong in some fervent faith, blades that found themselves infused with Tatarigami always held that stint of madness that needed to be seared from reality.

Mortal rot left horribly unkempt would lead to pestilence, then what of the divine variety? Lives more deeply entrenched in those echelons of power were a veritable nuclear meltdown upon death depending on their desire.

In short, these ‘realms of authority’ would naturally clash, Teyvat’s and the living coil of that very being. It mattered not if these were born and bred within this very world.

____

Thoma’s current journey within Sumeru has led him deep into the versatile woodlands. A cheery sense of free while actively running, leaping, soaring over high tops, methodically bouncing between sturdy trunks, to flipping along difficult heights where the smallest touch of leniency would lead to a harrowing plummet. Yet, he found joy in scaling through the lands without plenty of rhyme and a focused sect of reason.

The taste of Anemo here was crisp, rivaling that of the lands that hail the very Archon that established dominion upon that part of the seven. A natural guess would be that overflowing flora eagerly give as much as it takes, personalized contentment found in finding a home amidst all the denizens large and small.

So he certainly doesn’t complain, for more fresh oxygen and a stir of divine will means a much brighter burn.

That searing heart (and a good set of directions) would lead him deep into an area within the Lokapala Jungle, cleaved from many of the manmade or animal routes beaten into the earth.  A good and steady beat dances within his chest, further amplifying that inspired rhythm of the lands itself. Thoma’s certainty was growing further as he could feel the tempered burn that controls itself through the pole section of Homa, stirs of crimson life radiating in the hum of a tender beat.

There was no better confirmation that he’s on the right track. “A place where it resonated the closest with that heat.. Forming rare varieties of wood that thrives in any flame, amplifying the call of the very heat that’s willed into it.” He softly speaks, recalling clear of the legends spoken in one land, and the sharper, sparse reports found in the House of Deana.

For this ascension, a crucial key would be to dive back to the metaphorical roots, to guide this power back here.

Thus he’d advance onward, becoming a presence that reflects an imposing but respectful nature. Often as he doesn’t enjoy letting his merits be too widely known, gaining the recognition of animal life, to the exuding his will to the land’s very essence itself was important. Just the sight of dendrograna, so similar to electrograna reflects that chief lesson.

The land lives. It needs to learn about him and his intentions, as much as he’s here upon that very journey himself.

Many vines and flora would draw themselves apart upon his--, more particularly, Homa’s arrival, drawing apart as the presence it radiates reflects one of contentment, of that same boundless wisdom and hope that helped carve the dark futures of calamity away despite an element that always seemed to be an ending to forest life. Curious eyes would be drawn in how this particular grotto seems to expand the further he advances, hollowing out into the form of a more open hall compared to anything else.

Part of Thoma couldn’t resist wondering if this inventive measure is more man made or world like.

Within time he’d soon find the location he was intending to discover. Deeper humidity, more fragrant and heavier air, what he comes to discover... Isn’t exactly what he expected. Yet, that in itself hardly matters. What he imagined to be a forest of scarlet initially turns out to look more normalized in some regards, these particular trees holding edges of silver as a more prominent trait compared to anything else. Yet, the undeniable answer rang within his heart, causing its beats to hasten as that same mysterious edged itself into his mind.

"Only an unbound flame can purify this world.’

A voice that seems to draw its breath directly against his chest.

As his eyes sharpen with proper recognition, he advances, giving the firewood staff a flip until its positioned vertically, settled properly within his hand as a familiar ritual would begin anew. There was a distinct understanding of his reasoning for being here, to bring this land one of it’s fashioned children once again. Calamity was afoot, and naturally, understanding of the core and beyond would be key to reach the appropriate heights. No more, no less.

“Homa needs the strength of this place, the home where it was raised to power. Feel the coursing wave of my flames, its understanding in what it means to and not to harm.” Declares the Fixer, settling the spear’s blunt end to the red earth below. That  gently radiating eye begins to stir with further life as it gradually awakens from a more controlled slumber, allowing a flowing, aura like shawl of scarlet to erupt from its dual scarlet tips. Even the darker portions of the staff began to glow, gaining a more distinct scarlet tint comparable to the ground below.

Flame began to bloom around the staff’s head as Thoma settles down onto his knees, allowing for his divinity through the Vision to serve as a more appropriate link, to join this very experience as he puts his hands together in a stance prayer while allowing for his eyes to close.

This.. Unbound flame. He felt that it was time to let firsthand experience be his way of learning.

To let the world itself teach.

#| Drabble #more of my lil blog canon if anything #of Thoma adventures in Sumeru #wanted to take advantage of it Homa being sacred wood and in turn #having potential origins of being smithed by Sumerian material

[spikewriter]

Continuity - For Writers, It's a Good Thing

I'm now well over the halfway mark in Empress of China, and Emperor Taizong has finally shuffled off this mortal coil, which means it's the year 549. Which means Our Heroine has (historically), another 56 years to live, 40 of which she was effectively or actually the sole ruler of China. I'm beginning to think this series is primarily about her rise to power and doesn't give a fig about the time she was only Empress Regnant in China's history. Except for her coronation, where she gets to wear a fabulous outfit. I mean, it is seriously fabulous.

Yes, that dragon is 3D. :: clears throat :: Back to my point.

Taizong has died, though not before one final meeting where he and she may or may not have banged. Since Chinese television is far more restrictive about what can or cannot be shown, a lot of this is inference. And here's where things get fun.

Taizong dies and Wu MeiNiang does not arrive in time to see him before he passes. Much sadness, and she creeps off to the rooms where she and Taizong spent some good times (which happens to be where Taizong's empress lived before she died) to weep. Li Zhi, who is now emperor and has been in love with her for some time, though she's often treated him like a little brother, finds her there, and she ends up weeping in his arms.

As was the way of such things, because Wu MeiNang had no children by Taizong, she gets shipped off to a monastery with the other concubines in a similar situation to become a Bhuddist nun. Li Zhi, now Emperor Gaozong, watches from afar, wishing he could find a way to bring her back to the palace. Never mind she was his father's concubine, so he isn't supposed to be lusting after her.

But, turns out Wu MeiNang is pregnant, and through a complicated series of events, ends up back at the palace under the protection of Gaozong, who reveals to the audience that the child is his.

Up to this point, we have been led to believe that the child is Taizong's, because he is the love of Wu MeiNang's life. But now, we are told in a single scene that the night Taizong, who is presented as the love of her life, dies, she and Li Zhi banged in the rooms which used to belong to Li Zhi's mother. And despite all the many, many, many, many times she slept with Taizong (who had no problem getting other women pregnant), nothing happened, but once with Li Zhi, and Bam!

That's problem one. Problem two is that when her pregnancy is reveal, she is waaaaay too far along for this have come from that one night. Timeline is a little shaky for her last night with Taizong, but better.

Then there's problem number three: this change was apparently made in post production. You see, most Chinese dramas are fully dubbed, so tweaks are frequently made in dialogue. And, historically, the woman was having an affair with Li Zhi before his father's death, so that might have been the reason. Or maybe they realized they needed something to tie these two together for the last 20 episodes.

Problem is, this scene is the only place where this idea is addressed. Doesn't come up again, not even in private conversations, with everyone else believing the child was Taizong's. What's more, after she's lost the child and needs a protector in the palace, she tells Gaozong's sister that she couldn't marry him because she doesn't love him, she loved his dad and woe is her, because she suffered such a great loss with the child. Which makes it sound like the child was Taizong.

So, here's the writerly lesson I take away from all this. If you are going to make a major change in your story, go through it thoroughly to make certain you made all the changes necessary so your internal continuity is in line. Then do it again. Third time wouldn't be bad, and good idea to have someone else check it for you. Otherwise, you might leave readers wondering who the real baby daddy is.

I'm so watching this primarily for the costumes because it is way less interesting now that Zhang Fengyi, who played Taizong, is off the screen.

#empress of china #the script needed a good editor #writer life lesson

[beamloaddirective]

B02: Golf Ball

Author: Harry Brown

History: Bough off Amazon for like a dollar plus shipping after reading another book, Matthew Newton’s Shopping Mall, from the Object Lessons book series.

I absolutely adore the concept and so far have loved the execution of the Object Lessons books from Bloomsbury Publishing, and Harry Brown’s Golf Ball is an excellent example of this series’ strength. This is a series of short, interconnected essays about the golf ball, both its real history, its symbolism, and the industry surrounding it. He created a fascinating, entertaining, enlightening, dynamic work about everything surrounding the golf ball. There is, just beneath the surface of a mundane object like the golf ball, so much that Brown was able to draw from. The sort of philosophy this series reflects, how everything can have this level of history and complexity, is more or less why I like being alive. Everything provides something that I can learn from, everyone can teach me something, every action I take and experience I have is going to stick with me in some part for the rest of my life, it’s a mindset that I sort of stumbled into, but I think it’s helped me to counteract a naturally anxious mindset I take about everything. The vastness and interconnectedness of everything used to sort of terrify me, the years ahead of me I had left to live used to definitely terrify me, failure used to terrify me, but understanding that everything can be learned from and everything, even a golf ball, can have special significance, turned a concept that was once terrifying into something exciting, something that lends a little spice to the ol’ mortal coil.

I’m weird about golf. It’s never been that important to me. One of my closest friends is really into it, he used to work at a golf course and he plays in an amateur tour, and last year he and I went and volunteered at the Senior LPGA Championships in his hometown of Salina, Kansas (I held the “Quiet Please” sign, still have it in my car) and during that experience I gained an appreciation for the game’s steady pace, the stillness of the surrounding ambience, the sound of the club against the ball, all of that. I know I’m embarrassingly bad at it, so it might be a bit until I try it again, but I get why people enjoy it. 

I think Golf Ball has helped me appreciate the sport a little bit more in some sense. Maybe as the weather turns, I’ll find myself headed to the driving range or getting tee times at municipal courses. I kind of doubt that, I feel like I’m more likely to do pickleball or… I don’t know, basketball? 

I have two more of these at the moment – Personal Studio by Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow and Hotel by Joanna Walsh. I’m not moving right on to those, but I will get to them over the course of the year and I’m quite excited to do so!

#Harry Brown #Golf Ball

[unorthodoxmars]

but do you feel like a young god?

grief is a cruel and unmerciful thing. it's consequences can be devastating.

divinity had never been hidden from man.

all knew of them from young, tales of the untouchable, possessing abilities beyond human understanding. those formed from glory and bleed gold, molded to perfection within the universe's palm.

none knew where they came from aside from myths, nothing was ever confirmed. but all knew that mankind came from them.

the firsts were titled the old gods, who lived long before humanity. the ones who were apart of the creation of humanity. those still living within this group were few and far between. goddess of death, mistress to time, god of life, sky god, and the earth and sea twins.

no one knew the whereabouts of them, it was rumored they died out decades ago, others believe they still live in retirement, hidden, among humans.

don't be fooled though, they may have been the first, but many followed after them. no one could ever be sure how many of the divine were truly still alive. some hidden, some long past, others slumbered on for centuries, those who had fallen from grace, godlings who had never even made it to their godhood.

with every god, came a story. a myth, a legend, a tale weaved through time herself. the tales varied from family to family, culture to culture, belief to belief, but every single one held its own meaning.

some warning of war, others a story of heros and villians, some who had no heros.

some, a cautionary.

there had always been one story everyone had heard at least once, varied with everyone yet the premise remained the same.

the story of the broken divine twins.

see, twin godlings were a rare thing. only a handful recorded, yet each pair had a consistency.

a domain interlocked, their first domains would be connected. two sides of the same coin, one unable to work without the other.

earth, sea. chaos, peace. loyalty, betrayal.

so, of course, the birth of the godlings was a secret to none. it was simply a matter of time until they gained, and ruled their own interlocked domains in complete balance, and the gods were watching. waiting.

aiko and hishiro, children of one of the more ancient gods.

aiko was older, by a day. but a day was nothing other than a few minutes for the divine.

hishiro followed shortly after. hair plucked from the void itself, unlike their twin, who's hair looked to be crafted from the sun's very core.

no one understood one quite like how the other did. never too far apart.

they were young, yet they seemed to have it all figured it out already so long as they had each other.

but peace in divinity can only last for so long.

like mentioned, their parents were one of the older gods. not the ' old gods ', but you know, close enough.

and with age comes experience, allies, change, and enemies.

truly, someone as old as them should've known the dangers of having all the gods' attention on the twins.

but who are we to judge?

mistakes happen. gods and goddesses are busy. children are left unattended.

mistakes happen.

( it was never really a mistake.)

( divinity don't make mistakes.)

the death of a twin can be disastrous for their counterpart.

it's like losing part of your soul entirely, there is no replacing that. nor is there a way to reverse the damage already done.

two became one and hishiro wept the consequences. too young to do anything else other than hate the world that stole their twin. ( they would age. eventually grow up understand the world has no say in matters of these. )

but everyone knows gods are erratic.

they have little sense of humanity, for they are not human. and their morals vary differently from our own. they care for less, death is something they've seen reap the lands for centuries. they don't care as much, it's just the old goddess doing her job.

but when it does hurt them? when it does strike close to their gold hearts? when it does make them weep tears of diamond and silver?

everyone will know.

grief is not something that fades with time. it is no different for the gods.

the death of their twin coiled itself with tight cloth around hishiro, one who was meant to be two, grief gripped them until divinity broke.

the godling was left with broken skin, half of their skin like broken glass.

( it's rumoured that later on, whenever the deity experienced something as intense as they did that night, blood of gold could be spotted leaking from their cracked skin. )

a tragedy. but not one yet concluded.

now, what happens to a twins domain, when their other half is stolen from them?

well the very same thing.

before hishiro could ever learn of their first domain, it was taken away with their brother. instead, hishiros first domain became grief.

the deity of grief. ( later on literature, gold, and history would follow as their next domains. )

that day, a lesson was taught. but not to mortals. to the divine.

godlings would be hidden by their parents, their existence to be kept to limited ears until they reached godhood.

for, they all had saw the consequences.

decades later, it could be said the deity of grief could be found lingering around humans. after the death of a loved one, or during a poets sanction, or when a young king would uncover gold of kings past.

sometimes, there could be spotted a man following shortly behind. some claimed to have seen the two argue, the man treating the god like a friend rather than a god at all. few and many had met the brown haired man, later to find out he was the deities only claimed.

( someone would later claim they spotted the two closer than friends should be. hands intertwined and words hushed for only their ears. but no one listened to that tale. what a foolish rumor. )

lol.

[heliosphoenix]

State of the Planet: 2020 Edition.

I know what you're thinking.

"How can you even think of doing one of these for this year? After everything that happened? You can't possibly be trying to do your little feel-good writeup!" 

Well...you're right. I can't. That's right, State of the Planet is cancelled.

I don't really have to explain why, do I? I have no words to describe this year and I know you don't want to hear them anyway. I understand your anger, your frustration, your sadness, everything you're feeling, I get it.

This wasn't the year you imagined and almost certainly not the one you wanted. Thanks for being there the entire way, and I'll see you next year.

Okay, I'm just kidding. I couldn't do that to you folks, I just wanted to get some more mileage out of a dead meme.

I first started this missive several years ago when I noticed that people were developing a tendency to condense the previous lap around the ol Sun into a series of terrible, horrible, no good very bad events at the expense of anything good that may have happened. I don't know why this was done, maybe as a ways to ensure that the coming year would have to be better by default.

Well...we all saw how that worked out for this year, didn't we?

As you all know I prefer to do things differently. I prefer to go out on a high note and remember all the good things that happened in the past year. If nothing else, I think it helps remind us that as much as we want to bemoan and be pessimistic about the state of our culture, society, civilization and even species, there's plenty of evidence to suggest we're not doing so bad after all.

And even thought it feels like this past year the world went out of its way to teach us some rather harsh lessons, I'm still determined to find something good that happened. So let's take a look back at some of the good things that happened in 2020:

A circumbinary planet was discovered at the TOI 1338 system.

Luxembourg became the first country to make it's public transportation free.

The Bhadla Solar Park became the largest solar park in the world.

The BepiColumbo space probe departed for Venus, en route to an arrival at Mercury in 2025.

A fast radio burst was detected from a Magnetar in the Milky Way, the first time such an event has been detected in the Galaxy.

A team of British and Kenyan scientists discovered a microbe that can block mosquitos from transmitting malaria.

A black hole was discovered in the QV Telescopii system, at 1120 light years away it is the closest known black hole to Earth.

A 425 million year old fossil of a millipede was discovered in Scotland, one of the oldest fossils ever found.

SpaceX launched their Dragon 2 spacecraft on its first crewed missions, the first astronauts to launch from US soil since 2011.

The Perseverance rover was launched to Mars and is expected to touch down in February.

The Barakah nuclear power plant in the UAE became the first operational nuclear power plant in the Arab states.

Wild polio was eradicated from the continent of Africa.

Skeletons of 31 prehistoric animals, including 200 mammoths, were found at a construction site in Mexico City, it was the largest finding of mammoth bones ever.

The 5.37 mile La Linea highway tunnel was opened in Colombia, it's the largest road tunnel in South America.

Kosovo, Serbia, Sudan and Bahrain all decided to normalize their relations with Israel.

Phosphine, a strong predictor of microbiological life, was discovered in the atmosphere of Venus.

Preserved remains of a cave bear were discovered in Siberia.

A 1634 edition of Shakespeare's final play, The Two Noble Kingsman, was discovered at the Royal Scots College's library in Spain.

The OSIRIS-REx spacecraft landed on the asteroid Bennu and collected samples for return to Earth in 2023.

The Falkland Islands were declared free of land mines.

Molecular water was detected near Clavius crater on the Moon. 

An AI algorithm called AlphaFold was able to figure out the process of Protein Folding. 

The UN commission on Narcotic Drugs removed cannabis from its list of dangerous drugs.

The EU committed themselves to reducing greenhouse emissions by 55% over the next decade.

A Great Conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn occurred, the closest one seen in the night sky since 1226.

Comet NEOWISE passed by the Earth and was the brightest comet in the night sky since Hale-Bopp in 1997.

Among Us became one of the most popular games in the world.

Half Life: Alyx was released, the first Half Life game in 13 years (FINALLY).

Joe Biden was elected as the 46th President of the United States.

Remember all that? Good. Because that's where I'm at.

You, dear reader, are in the future. Perhaps you're reading this in the final hours of 2020, or the first hours of 2021. Or maybe so much time has passed that both those years are now confined to the history books.

Perhaps everything I listed above is not enough to overcome all the bad things that happened this year, and that's a fair assessment. Maybe at the end of the day there's nothing that can overshadow the fact that someone in China who ate the wrong bat resulted in the entire world coming to a stop. If that's your feeling, then I understand completely.

But let the record show that those things did happen. In a year full of chaos and uncertainty and anxiety and dread, there were still moments where we could objectively punch our fists in the air and say "yes!" Even if only for a moment.

So now comes the part where I have to take all the things that we just went through and sum it up in a single word. Usually I don't think about this until the day of, but this time I've actually known for months what I was going to say:

The word is...Goodbye.

It sounds both strange and appropriate at the same time, doesn't it? As we close out this year, as well as this decade (reminder that 2021 is the real start of the next decade) we can look back and realize we've had many experiences. Both positive and negative. Hopefully they were mostly positive, even during this year.

But there is at least one experience we've all shared together, especially in times like these: saying goodbye.

I will confess to you all that I have a hard time saying goodbye. Hell, I don't even like the word. Whenever I end a conversation, I always use some variant of "see you later", since, to me at least, "goodbye" just sounds so final. Though with that said, I will also admit there's some people in this world that I had no problem saying goodbye to, and I don't mean "till we meet again", I mean "get lost." And I'd be lying if I said there weren't some people who felt the same about me, but I digress.

In the last episode of his show, Red Green delivered a monologue about saying goodbye. A monologue that I am now shamelessly ripping off for your reading pleasure. Not just because it's a way to get this done quickly, but because I think what he said is very true.

Red says that when it comes to your good friends and your family, you never really have to say goodbye. Why? Because they're always in your mind. And whenever you think about them, you're together again. I can tell you from experience that works rather well, even when it involves people that I don't want to think about. But even in that instance, where our last interaction was a negative one, I can't help but think back to all the good times we had together, and for a moment I reminisce. It's nice when it happens.

We've all heard the phrase "nothing lasts forever" and we tend to dismiss it as a cliché. But we're still constantly confronted with that reality, even if we never realize it. As Al Pacino said in Any Given Sunday; "When you get old in life, things get taken from you. That's a part of life."  

We've all lost things in our lives, and I just don't mean toys that have been sold or people that we love who are no longer on this mortal coil. I'm referring to the moments in our lives where we're forced to accept that our circumstances have permanently changed, and that the way things were can no longer be the way things are. This is why you shouldn't be having kids when you're in your 70's, and no one over the age of 50 should be naked in public.

On a more personal note, this year I got that feeling once again. It's not just because I'm most likely leaving one job behind for another job, but there were things in my personal life that shifted so dramatically that I knew things could never be the same again. And seeing as how, for the most part, I liked how things were, I'd be lying if I said that this change didn't cause me some distress.

But that's all a part of growing up, isn't it? As much as I may cringe about reaching 30 years of life on this Earth, I accept it all the same. Because, if nothing else, it's a reminder that I need to keep moving forward. Is it sad that the good ol days are now just memories and dreams? You're damn right it is. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing, because even if they're not what's happening now, they still did happen. And who knows? Perhaps the days to come will be just as good, if not better. In my opinion, that's something to look forward to.

And the same is true for all of us: if we want to live a happy fulfilling life, we have to keep moving forward. We can reminisce about all the fun we've had in days gone by, but it's just as important to be ready for the days yet to come.

I think that's why New Year's is such a poignant holiday for all of us. It's a tacit acknowledgement that we have to say goodbye to the old, so we can say hello to the new.

And at the risk of making this entry so long that by the time you're finished it will be 2022, I'd like to do that now.

To all the people that have been with me since my early days, thanks so much for all that you've done. I appreciate you sticking it out with me this far and I hope you'll continue to do so for many years to come.

To all the people that I've met recently and have decided to join me on this ride, welcome aboard. We're glad you could make it and we hope you'll stay a while as well.

And finally, to all the people that are no longer here, whether they've merely left my social circle or left this mortal coil altogether, all I can say is that we've had a great run. Whatever our reasons for parting are irrelevant now and I wish you nothing but good fortune in whatever it is you decide to do. Perhaps, God willing, our paths will cross again some day. But even if they don't, I hope that every so often we'll think about each other and smile a bit.

And now I'd like to close with something different. Usually I ask you to comment below with something good that happened to you this year. You're more than welcome to do that. But if you're looking for a change of pace, may I suggest that you close out your 2020 (or open your 2021) by listening to this song from the great Ashleigh Ball and Michelle Creber (yes I know many of you are hoping to leave the Miniature Equines in the past, but I'm hoping you'll permit them one last indulgence).

https://youtu.be/XjkPH6sZM_o 

This is the song that inspired me to write this missive (along with the aforementioned Red Green) and as you're listening, I want you to think about all of those you said goodbye to this past decade. Think about all the fond memories you had together and give yourself a smile as the clock strikes midnight. Even if they're not with us today, we still have all the memories of them that no one can take from us, no matter what happens to the world.

And now the time has come for me to end this missive. Let the record show that this was my final word on 2020 as well as my expressed hope for charity, kindness and goodwill to flourish throughout the world in the years to come.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends

.And 2021 shall restore amends.

[akanemiura]

Epic

Muscle against metal, bones to dirt; the thudding and scraping of the smaller scuffles that make a larger war had become secondary to her own rapidfire breathing pumping in and out and in and out of her charred lungs, choked thick with the cinders of a village that couldn’t be saved. Parrying chimes were answered with warcries were answered with the death scream of horses being slaughtered and dragging their masters down, too.

The smell of petrichor rising up from the wet ground⁠—wet with rain, with viscera; who could tell anymore?⁠—made the whole bloody mess feel deeply, unshakably ritual and elemental to being. Soldiers who had once displayed an unmovable, stoic discipline for years in their training right down to the ruler-straight seams of their uniforms now transformed in an instant to muddy, feral beasts who licked their lips to a glisten and gnashed with impatience, roiling and seething with volcanic rage while hot flames tore through shopfronts and cottages distantly beyond the field of battle.

But not her.

She had a focus not unlike a trance, one that saw her swaying and moving like water around the impotent swings of those who would see her cut to pieces. It was as though she’d been possessed by spirits unknown who saw fit to expose her enemy’s motions a moment before even he knew what he would do. She adjusted her grip on her patient blade, invoking the perfect stillness of a coiled viper, and watched the lowered horns of a soldier’s helmet lower toward her like a bull ready for a gore. It was over in a matter of seconds and the blood tasted the way her sword sounded when it clashed with his, turned it away, and immediately drove deep into the unguarded, yielding flesh that makes a mortal mortal. Victory.

--

The early light of day was just beginning to warm the paper screens of her simple room when she arose from dreams of war bloodless and unscathed. Akane had never known the brutal struggles of her great-great-great-great-greats, but the stories of valor had echoed down through the ages until it pervaded her sleep, until she was playing out lessons from the training yard in her mind’s simulations of history as told by her forebears. At her most honest, she yearned mightily for fantasy to be made flesh, wished selfishly for Kugane’s newer age of peace to rattle ever-so-slightly so she might have a chance—a real chance—to prove her Miura worth as all who came before, with body and mind thrown into the environment for which it had been honed tirelessly for years. Alas.

As the sound of bokken clacking and childish laughter permeated the stillness of morning, she sighed. Heroes looked a lot different these days.

#akane #writing #ffxiv #ff14 #samurai #ff14 rp #balmung rp #crystal rp #lfrp #hydaelyn-arts

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow ch XI - For CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns​ Ch 11 / ?? - In which a monster hides in plain sight

The library had several Kitsune in it when Killian arrived, but as he climbed to the upper level, his immediate concern became the Dragon in the corner. Haku was furiously scribbling down information from a stack of books, throwing them aside in frustration. Killian made the pointed note to stay far away from him and whatever had caused his anger. 

The latest ledgers of the island census were missing as far back as five years, and many of the cultural or study of heritage scrolls were also missing as Killian searched for them amongst the rows. He found a few scrolls of painted art that showed depictions of what the rite aimed to do, though; a Fox spirit in full splendor attacking the barrier and breaking free, it's teeth and many tails shining on display. The actual rites were a mystery as he found those books missing too. 

On a sneaking suspicion, he glanced over at the piles of books Haku had stacked at the desk where he worked, still frantically taking down notes on whatever he was studying. Seeing the same bindings that matched the books in the series, Killian sighed. Of course the Dragon was using them. Resolving to wait, Killian read instead the long history recorded by what once were the Dragon elders, long gone now from the world.

In the beginning, there was fire, ice, air, and earth. We came from all four, the blending of these elements making way to the subtler magics, but leaving us perfect in primordial effortlessness. From the blending of the four came the Old Gods, the Elementals, and then magic itself. After that, time, then light and dark, followed as the Gods and Elementals made this world, and all the vast realities between. We found no use for time, for light, or darkness. Only magic, and only the elements were as wild as we. At one time we too could traverse the planes of existences, but that gift has been long lost to us. 

From magic and the elements came the old creatures, many lost to new as they burned too bright, stars bursting into a supernova, creating, changing and destroying the others. Kitsune, Draugr, Kraken, Gorgons, Sphinx, Harpies - they all come from the old magics, brought to life by their own will until there was either nothing left or just enough for permanence. 

Fire and ice made water, which made seas; earth and fire made jewels and metals, it forced rock from the seas that cooled into land. Air, earth, and water made forests that towered above the hungry ground while ice and air made snow, and water, fire, and air created storms. The Old Gods created their own beings from the many new elements that were created; starlight and moonbeams graced Elves as sunbeams and breezes molded the first Fae, born with wings. Dirt and jewels made Hob-Goblins sparkle like quartz, Anisapi the first to stand guard of places of power. Merfolk and the sea dwellers came together as foam that topped great waves and salt, the Gods loving their children as long as they could before their ends befell them. By war, sickness, age, or simply choice, they left the world to who they hoped would treasure it. 

The Old Gods did not teach their children enough, however. They did not teach their children to share, or warn them of the dangers they had kept hidden away. Trying to be like their creators, and with the last few Deities hanging on, an unknown coalition created mortals. While weak and without vitality, they were vicious, bred quickly in their short lives, and became impossible to eradicate. Before long, they were the dominant species of the world created for us. They learned our weaknesses, they learned how to take down the last of the Gods. They cornered us until something was done. 

The first wars cut lands from mortal hands and placed them in our own, establishing the sacred places that mortals should not tread. Even amongst the non-believing, the superstitions and deadly reminders of trespass passed easily through their generations. 

After that, space was limited amongst the races. A peaceful mountain dwelling species of Fae came under attack for their resources and labor by Jeoff N'lan, who imprisoned them. It wasn't until rumors of an insurrection came under the rule of his son, Jeorg N'lan, that their population was decimated. We know them now as - 

"Reading something good?" Emma's voice made him jump, and he came back to himself with a jolt. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he could practically taste the honey and sunshine smell that graced her. Coming out from behind him, she placed a picnic basket on the table as he closed the book and set it aside. "I didn't mean to make you jump, it must have been a good book -" 

"Interesting, but not necessarily good," Killian shrugged. He took in her appearance, as she had changed. She looked even better than she had previously, a red gown which had a square cut neckline, her body poured into it as he tried not to notice how lovely she looked. How did she not know the effect she had? He wondered it idly, trying to understand why he was even feeling the effect of her beauty. Sighing, she sat next to him, slumping with her head in her hands. He hesitated when he went to lay his hand on her shoulder, his eyes watching her chest rise, the sigh making her bosom press up, freezing him. 

"Killian, I am not sure how to say this," she began nervously, biting her lip. Under the light of the library, her eyes were sea glass in the sun, bright and sharp. Their appraisal snapped him out of his inappropriate trance, and he refocused quickly as he took in her words. "But I'm beginning to get a little bit scared. There's something off here, and after observing what they're proposing for this rite, I don't know -" 

A book slammed shut across from them, Haku looking at them with his steely eyed gaze. Emma rubbed her temples, body tensing. The Dragon strode over to them, leveling his glare at Emma from across the table. She looked away, and Killian immediately felt ready to spring, coiled in defense of her. 

"You know then, and you know that you could easily take her place?" Haku said quietly, his voice cold. Emma nodded, swallowing hard. 

"What is there to know? Your people chose the Maiden, Emma has nothing to do with -" Killian argued, but Haku let out a yell, his nails digging into the table. 

"You do not have any right to speak on this Dark One. If your grievances are absolved with this Royal, let mine be heard: Don't you feel any repentance for anything, or do you like the weight of your family's legacy on your shoulders?"

Emma closed her eyes, flinching when the Dragon brought his fist down on the table with a loud bang. 

"That's enough -" Killian hissed, but the Dragon shook his head. 

"It will never be enough. You were a hero to our people because you were the answer to the violence her family created, Dark One. We prayed for your return, your revenge on the Royal family, revenge on the Goblins - you were supposed to mete out justice. To think you were distracted by this, this silly girl!" Haku spat at Emma, and she yelped.

Killian ripped the Dragon across the table by his collar, blood pounding in his ears. Lifting his arms, he threw Haku, the Dragon stumbling into the bannister of the stairs down to the main level. 

"Get away from us," Killian hissed. 

"Gladly," Haku gritted out as he straightened, sending a pointed look at Emma.

Killian watched him walk away, Emma shaking in her seat. 

"What the bloody hell was that about?" he asked, before sitting next to her. She shook her head, seemingly trying to find words to explain. 

"These rites - Killian, I'm scared. I -" 

"There you are! Oh how quaint, a basket lunch. Who knew royals as far up in status as you knew how to prepare one," Maleficent purred, walking up the stairs. Lilly followed, her head bowed as she nervously fidgeted with her hands, Isaac trailing behind her. "You ran out so quickly Princess, we weren't done talking about coming to an agreement."

Emma looked up at Killian, pleading with her eyes. 

"The princess and I were talking about your rituals, actually, and thought we might have a moment alone -" 

"Yes of course, but later in the day. There's still so much to show her!" Maleficent purred, yanking Emma back, Lilly catching her as she stumbled. "Princess Emma still has things to see, but I'll leave Isaac here to help you with any questions. Lilly, make haste, come now girls."

Killian smiled apologetically, Emma's look of panic blocked by Isaac's body.  

"What do you want to know? I know almost everything in these books, and I'm the author of more than a few." The shorter man puffed up his chest proudly, and Killian inwardly screamed. Letting his jaw clench into something he hoped resembled a smile, he straightened. 

"I would like to know a bit about the workers I've seen around. The ones that wear the masks and the black outfits, are they a servant class or some leftover of the plague?" he asked, quickly moving to grab the books Haku had been using. Carrying them over, Isaac wrung his hands nervously. 

"Oh, the husks. The Dragons call them 'no faces' because of the masks and their woolen veils, but I think that's a tad tasteless," Isaac chuckled lightly. "They're those who have served us, starting back some sixty odd years. Those left live together with their attendants or with their families if their families so choose."

Killian narrowed his eyes. "Served you? They seem…" He trailed off, unable to find a way to make his meaning less blunt. 

"They seem 'gone'? Well yes, of course they do, and they should! They are fighting, their very essence of spirit attacking the barrier of this prison." Isaac grinned, spreading his palms upward. "That's what the rites are for, they create a trance like state that becomes greater every consecutive turn. This is the year we break free, I can feel it."

"And you want Emma to do this? What are the risks? Is there danger involved -"  

"Now now. The princess is surely capable of making her own choice or coming to you for counsel, yes?" Isaac asked, dropping his hands. His head quirked to the side, and he shrugged. "Besides - The only ones that fear are those who aren't faithful to our teachings. They believe that their loved ones are empty, faceless and lost, not that they are husks waiting for their successful return. The day comes that those still living will have a reunion of body and mind."

Killian thought about Haku's reaction, how vitriolic it was, and glanced at the stack of books. He returned Isaac's grin and nodded.

"Of course. Thank you for elucidating." 

Isaac bowed, backing away. "It was my pleasure to illuminate. I must be off to see to final preparations. Should Emma return, see that you remember our chat? It would certainly help win favor for an alliance."

"Of course, of course. We'll go through the process together if she wishes, and make a decision." Killian watched Isaac's smile falter marginally, confirming his suspicion. 

"Very good then. See that you do." Isaac turned, leaving the library, as Killian furiously began to dig through what Haku had left. The results were frustratingly vague answers about ‘glory to the Kitsune’, who in theory would break through the initial ward, but the magic didn't relate to any sort Killian understood or any ruminations that he was aware of. If anything, it seemed that someone with enough energy could potentially pierce the island's barrier, but any type of assault would need to be targeted, not blanketed as the current ritualistic attempts suggested. The ritual itself was vague, barely described besides a few mentions of a story being written that seemed to usher the chosen into some sort of astral state. 

There was nothing referencing any method in which a husk could be saved, Haku's notes in the margins seemingly indicating that he too had come to the same conclusion. A highlighted passage seemed to be confirmation of this, citing a tethered link being ripped away. Emma could not go through with whatever this was. The thought of her as a stumbling and soulless thing made him feel ill, the image in his mind of her eyes gone gray making him irrationally angry. The island's leaders had to know that this was wrong. A drawing Haku had made of a dome over what must be the island showed what looked like to be fractures, referencing another book on spellcraft, specifically breaking long lasting protection wards. There it showed a sketched illustration of an immortality enshrining spell being fractured while remaining unbroken, resulting in the shamaness inside not retaining her beauty as intended, aging as she should have whilst still remaining alive. Killian shuddered at the thought. 

A dog eared page caught his attention. Haku was a methodical researcher, his notes precise as he followed this ritual to its origins. The marked page was out of place in that regard - a sleeping draughts of great potency, one similar to the sleeping death he himself had given the Queen of the United Realm's, Emma's mother, under the Goblin King’s command. She was famous for overcoming it during the war and her kiss with the man she would later choose to rule by her side had led to his capture. This was not quite that curse, which had taken a great deal of dark magic to create, and ingredients Killian did not want to deal in again if at all possible. It was lesser in its extremity, seemingly focused on lucid dreaming or actively blending the dreams of others with one's own. Did the ritual require some sort of unwaking sleep? That thought was chilling as well, dreams and the magic behind their power were widely known for their unpredictable nature, and Emma’s dreams were beyond powerful and erratic. 

"It seems like you have had an easier day than me. Maybe I'll read, and you go play politics?" 

Emma's voice startled him, and he turned as he stood, almost knocking her over. She looked different than he had last seen her, her eyes kohled and lips red. If the red dress he had seen her in earlier had not attempted to kill him with impropriety, the outfit she wore now had every chance. 

The black dress was by all measure sinful in every facet of its design, and the exhale he gave was choked as she stepped in closer to place her hands on his arms. The pitch black velvet clung to every inch of her toned body, half corset tight but allowing the fullness of her curves, the neckline plunging, and the skirt slit on both sides. A red necklace hung heavy around her neck, the color a deep crimson that seemed to absorb the light. He’d been attracted to the princess before, she was beautiful as it were, but never had he wanted so much to act on it. Not only because of the dress, but because of the way her lips parted, the concerned way she looked at him through the dulled gray green of her eyes under the library lights, her red nails slightly digging into his sleeves - 

As she steadied herself, Killian felt himself falling, unable to catch himself in the sudden vertigo. 

"Emma," he breathed, and her eyes seemed to glint with mischief at how her name was practically wheezed out. He had to compose himself, had to get control - 

Emma leaned in, rising on her toes. 

"I've been waiting to get you alone all day," she whispered, smiling softly, as if she hadn't just made his brain explode. "About earlier -" 

He cleared his dry throat, suddenly far too hot. "Yes, ah, about earlier; you shouldn't go through with anything they try to pressure you into -" 

She laughed, looking at him with amusement. "Oh, no, I know that. What I meant is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier."

He blinked, and while one hand held her steady on his forearm, the fingers on her other hand played with the lacing of the collar of his shirt. Breathing seemed harder, requiring thought. 

"It wasn't about your fears involving the rites here, and the alliance?" Killian asked, and she shook her head. Looking down for a moment, chewing her lip as she let go of him, Emma eyes flitted up at him through her lashes. Taking his hand and squeezing it lightly, she smiled warmly. 

"So… Um. I was scared about talking to you, about finding the right things to say that would make sense. The thing is though… I'm not scared anymore. I feel like I know the answers to my fears just by being near you. You've been so different lately, and I feel like I know you so much better."

"I - I uh - Princess, what is it you're…?"

"You're blushing! Please I don't mean to - oh no -" 

"I'm just not sure what you're trying to convey here, love," he managed to get out, her own face heating in time with his ears. The dress was again another hurdle to his calm, the black velvet slipped tight over the farthest curve of her breasts where it could sit at without being indecent. The color in her face was settling there too, and he dragged his eyes upwards with force. 

Emma stepped forward, and he noticed that she had even streaked her hair jet black in a few places. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips, trying to fight the wave of carnal thoughts that had suddenly bloomed in his mind. She was so lovely, would feel so right curling into him as he tasted her berry colored lips, finally chasing her properly. What was wrong with him?  Where did these indecent thoughts come from - they had been contained when the Darkness had seemed to be held at bay, and yet here on the isle among the festival goers, it roared to life. 

"Killian, you don't know? I've been thinking about what I want, what we mean to each other -" Killian snapped out of the fantasy with difficulty, as if it had tried to trap him or had used some sort of charm on him. Her words didn't seem real, and he rolled them over in his thoughts. 

"What we mean to each other?" he asked. "Wait, Emma, are you suggesting that you - you feel - you want -" 

"I'm not suggesting anything, Killian," she murmured, and he thanked the Gods for approximately six seconds, before her next words fried his brain. "I'm telling you that I think I want something more from you than friendship."

"I --- I -, er… I am -" 

"Aye to you, too. Come find me later, and I'll tell you what I decided. I think you'll be very pleased." Emma twisted her red necklace in her fingers, looking up shyly at him through her lashes. "I know I am."

Another wave of want hit him, stronger than before, his mind going fuzzy at the edges. Emma was too close to him, and yet she stepped closer; he could smell the smokiness of her, the pine woods, soot, chilies, and rice wine. Vaguely he wondered why she didn't smell of her usual honey, vanilla, cinnamon, and rose, but the thought vanished when she pressed her lips to his cheek. 

Quickly retreating as he cupped his cheek, she waved goodbye, leaving down the path from the library with confident steps. 

Killian felt the small ember he carefully stoked inside the most protected regions of his being turn into a flame, hope surging as he tried to focus on anything but his confirmed feelings for the princess. For Emma. The books he tried to read could not hold his attention; nothing could draw him from his racing thoughts. 

He found a note pinned on the outer side of the door as he was leaving, telling him to meet her on the high cliffs as soon as he could, which left him feeling elated, and he smiled at the thought of trying to figure things out with her. The Darkness had been under control, she was always nearby if it wasn't, and her magic was strong. She was smart, unfailing in her kindness, brave, and he had been denying his feelings for so long. Tonight he would deny her just for a few moments longer, all to court her properly. 

There was a flower vendor for the festival he had seen earlier when walking with Mushu, her cart filled with crowns of marigold, chrysanthemums, eucalyptus and carnations. He had also seen a sweet vendor that had marzipan sculptures, noticing the swan immediately. He had planned to get it for her before they left, but tonight was much more perfect. Both in hand as fast as possible, he hoped Emma wouldn't mind his late arrival. If anything, she would be too delighted by the gifts, and Killian could finally, finally do what he realized he wanted for so long - 

"Love, if you think helping the denizens of this isle is a worthy cause, who am I to ever argue with you?" 

Killian froze, turning to the sound that sent chills down his spine. Someone was talking in his voice, a scarily good imitation of it as well. 

"When have you been wrong, Swan? When have you not risen above your challenges?"

"You're right, Killian." 

Emma's voice. His stomach dropped. Moving closer to the conversation tucked into a small aisle behind tents, he saw Emma in her red dress, and himself. Or, a poor facsimile of himself; there were a few streaks of white in his hair, and his nails seemed pointer even in the dim light. The doppelganger seemed to notice, carding a hand through, covering the white with his palm and burying them there. The other hand went snugly into his pocket. 

"I know. I have no fear for you either, so take that as reassurance. After you succeed, it will be easy to take on the Darkness… and we could…" The fake slipped an arm around her waist, tipping her chin up and stroking her face. It was like a punch in the gut, the way she blushed and swooned so innocently, the reaction so sharply different than her earlier forwardness. Killian felt the growing suspicion that it wasn't Emma that had visited him but another, realizing with anger that his feelings had been twisted into vulnerability. 

"We can talk about something more, what comes next. A future," his double whispered, laying his forehead against Emma’s. 

"I'd like that," she replied as she smiled. 

Killian began walking towards them, his rage boiling over at this deceit and jealousy that flamed into a blaze. The manipulation that was in play to create the idea she actually - that she could possibly feel something like that for him and that they could make something work; the idea was ridiculous when laid out. The princess being courted by the war criminal. Jealousy wasn't what he was feeling; he couldn't be jealous when she had been tricked, or when he had been weak. Emma didn't want anything from him, truly. He moved through the tents, following Emma to make sure that she put distance between herself and his fake, watching her through the gaps. In the cage he held tightly closed, the Darkness rattled. It took in a gasp of air, straining in its bonds. 

No one could ever want you, stupid, weak, petulant man. 

No one.  

No one, and especially not her . 

Someone so good, you would break her, you would never work. 

Never . 

Imagine what scars you would give her, imagine how easily she would see how pathetic you are… 

He stumbled, felt the pressure of someone strong on his back as he struggled, albeit briefly. A cloth was pushed over his mouth and nose, a prick of some sort of dart hitting both sides of his neck one after the other. It took seconds for his eyes to go bleary, the world spinning as he fell. 

Haku looked down at him, frowning. 

"I'm sorry," Haku whispered. The words swam along with everything else in his vision, but Killian valiantly tried to crawl towards where Emma had been, following the sound of his voice, his voice used by another. 

"Hurry now love. Don't leave Isaac waiting; they'll need you as soon as possible."

Emma's voice was bright as she called over her shoulder with a wave, unaware of Killian’s groan as he reached for her, unseen behind the many tents as Haku dragged him away. 

"I'll be seeing you soon, Killian."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The amount of interference and pressure the combined Dragon royals and the Kitsune leaders held all day on Emma was absolutely unbearable. At the beginning of the morning, Lilly had dragged her to a bathhouse, the beauty and ornateness of the place overshadowed by the obnoxiously rude company. Emma was given a robe like wrap made of thick damask, golden fish swimming on the blue fabric. Lilly helped her put it on, ignoring Emma's objections at her intrusion while she was partially nude. 

Chihiro wore a white gown, not making a sound even with bells tied in her long black hair. They glinted in the sunshine along with her braided ribbon as they all moved through the hallways, polished wood catching their many colored reflections. A paper screen door opened to reveal a large bath surrounded by rocks, a waterfall cascading into the steaming pool. One by one the women disrobed, dipping themselves, and Emma followed suit with a blush. The water felt heavenly, even if the conversation was not. 

"So, the women as a congregation join the Maiden in her cleansing, where we all purify ourselves and commune with our ancestors," Lilly sighed, kicking her toes out of the water. From across the steam, Emma could see the great plumes of green smoke coming from where Cruella sat. When the steam parted, Cruella's eyes were focused solely on her, giving Emma chills even in the heat. "After this, we go get massages, then we get facials, then tea. Then we take a processional walk through the sand gardens, after which we do a lantern ceremony in the turtle pond. Lastly, we head to the cathedral for the final rites."

"I have plans to lunch with Killian -" Emma said cautiously, biting  her lip. 

"Because of course you do," Lilly said with an eye roll. 

Emma smiled innocently. "Is there a way I can sneak away at some point?" She batted her eyes and Lilly snorted. 

"Yes, of course there is," Lilly sighed, annoyed. "But getting a chance to while fielding my Mother and Cruella is going to be tricky for you. After this, that is. Enjoy the reprieve while you have it."

"Oh no, really?" Emma let herself whine. While unbecoming, it worked effectively well for Lilly, and was fair turnabout. "Lilly, will you buy me some time? You owe me for last night."

Lilly's eyes became more cool, and calculated. She looked at Emma conspiratorially, pointing up a finger before wagging it in her direction. "Alright. One condition though." 

"Sure, I guess?" Emma said with a slight shrug. Realizing the current situation, she let herself float her toes up and down in the water in slow kicks, adding with a little edge of warning, 

"Just don't be weird" 

Lilly nodded, looking away. The Dragon collected herself, looking resolute as she began to speak in a slow and careful manner. "You've heard a lot about how much people want you to do this, but today you are going to hear some of the why. I want you to hear my reasons." Taking a deep breath, she continued while obviously trying to keep from speaking too fast. "I don't love Mushu. He's like a brother to me, a truly close friend, but I don't and have never loved him. I don't believe he feels anything for me either, but I don't care to know in fear of sympathy winning me over. We simply don't have any other options - the royal lineage either goes on, or dies with me. Unless we escape. Unless somewhere, pockets of dragons survived that did not follow the call of our elders - then I am like you, forced into a loveless marriage."

Emma had to bite off the urge she had to scoff. 

"I mean, not quite, but sure I guess. What other reasons are there?" 

"There's a lot, Emma. A whole lot. This barrier is killing us, and killing any chances of a future for the entire island." Lilly grimaced, closing her eyes. "I hate everything that the pressure from all sides under it has made us become; made me become. I hate what it's done to my family."

"I’m truly sorry, Lilly. I will try to consider this as I make my decision." Emma patted her hand, and Lilly smirked, pawing an eye. 

"Yeah," Lilly bit out, the teasing quality in her voice softer. "As I pressure you. Fiore, there's no end in sight. Come, let us at least get this tension lifted from our shoulders."

She rose along with a few others, stepping into beautiful thick silk robe like dresses held by attendants. Emma followed, letting herself be ushered into a small room with a table in the center, a paneled paper divider opening revealing a room beyond that with the same layout as the first. With the divider pushed in to halve the start of the room, Emma was led to the further table while Lilly was disrobed. Emma's attendant followed by taking her own robe, laying Emma down so she could only see Lilly's head and shoulders her own attendant was pouring oil over her upper back. Emma felt the liquid slip over her own, flinching, before practiced fingers pressed long held tension away. She tried not to moan loudly, her body coiled tight since before she had fallen into this world. 

Neither Lilly or the attendants were conversationalists, nor were there interruptions, leading Emma to daydream contently like she had done before falling through the portal into this world. After what felt like only a few minutes, Lilly's snoring joined the quiet sounds of hands working their bodies, and Emma let herself doze in and out, feeling safe for the first time in… 

A part of Emma struggled to give the answer, torn. It should have been before Nil, and before her life was thrown off its natural course, but the truth that had popped immediately into her mind confused her. As did the fact her daydreaming kept leading her to strange places, and thoughts that were untoward, childish, and ridiculous. The last time she felt safe was much more recently, to only the last night Killian laid next to her. She'd woken from the same recurring nightmare, Nil advancing just a bit further each time, but Killian had been there immediately with his arms around her tightly. 

He'd mumbled a mixture of soft, soothing things in a rough voice heavy with sleep, letting her face lay against his chest so she could hear his steady heartbeat, feel his breathing, bringing herself to calm as his nose buried in her hair. There was a sort of intense intimacy in that, and she had woken when he had begun to pull away gradually, slowly even. He began growing more fitful and Emma had struggled not to wonder if it was because he wasn't tired, but if instead… If whatever part of him that governed sleep, governed the way his innuendos had stopped, or governed the way he was when he was drunk enough to hold her close had wanted him to stay that way. Either way, she had felt cozy, and fiercely protected by him. 

Her daydreaming was not protected from him though, and had been wandering to the feel of his hands on her thigh, the way she knew his lips were soft, the secret way his fingers trailing from her curls to trace patterns on her shoulder when he comforted her, and what it might be like to have the silly idea that he felt even the slightest attraction to her be not so silly. Graham had once brought her flowers, before her father's intervention, but Emma wondered if he would court her in the modern ways of the world outside the barrier, the ways of the strict rules her parents might expect, or even the traditions here that were bits of both with their own unique twists. Killian would be a gentleman no matter how long the path the courtship was, and for that reason she felt even more longing for him. 

Maybe Lilly was right and they did both want each other? Emma drifted further into the pleasure of that idea, even as noise started in Lilly's room. The eventual heated tone and rising volume of an argument brought Emma back from her musings with quickness. 

"She should meet her, Father Isaac says to have faith and I have. I've been faithful since both sets of our parents were taken, and I've been faithful waiting for Aurora. This is a chance for her. It's like she isn't even there anymore. I can't even remember the blue of her eyes, her eyes used to be blue, almost violet. Now they're that wretched, empty, gray - "

"Phillip, be calm and be silent, I'm working on it. I don't want to pressure her and all of you are making it very difficult," Lilly hissed lowly. "Trust me, I want this as much as you, but we can't just tell them that this is a potential outcome when they don't understand."

" I don't understand. I don't understand why it feels like Aurora isn't even in there anymore. I miss her so much; we were trying to start a family and then this happened. When she gets back, if she gets back, how much time will be left?" The man's voice was growing more plaintive, and Emma tried to control her breathing to maintain the illusion she was sleeping. Her attendant hesitantly moved away, and Emma risked a glance at Lilly's room. 

The Dragon was in another of the heavy silken damask robe dresses speaking with an angry looking man, one who could only be Phillip. He was tall and broad, deep chestnut hair and a boyish face that was well tanned. Next to him stood a husk, its black cowl and mask still even as Phillip gesticulated. 

Emma had felt the strangeness of the husks pull before, attributing it to the island's own unique feeling of arcane forces. Everything on the island pulled at her, as if the ground was trying to absorb the very elements it was created from, starved of its own power. The husks were like this, but with the force of a cyclone, a gaping maw of a vacuum that demanded to be filled. This husk was no different, the stillness of it betrayed by how it gave off a dark and desperate feeling of need. 

"Please, you need to -" 

"I don't need to do anything, especially when you aren't even included in the lottery!" the man yelled. 

"Yes," Lilly drawled, sounding annoyed but dismissive. "Being on the door of extinction as a species is the epitome of an exit strategy. Bravo Phillip, you figured it out."

"Lilly, you know what I mean! I don't know how anyone else does it. She isn't Aurora anymore; she doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, doesn't talk or smile or sing - I miss her singing. I used to complain about her singing all the time and now, and now I -" 

"We need to talk somewhere else; the princess is going to wake up and I'm going to have to -" 

Emma's attendant closed the screen between their rooms, separating them once again, and leaving Emma alone as the voices carried out into the hall. The silence was not broken by any attendant, and Emma rose quietly to sit. A beautiful dress of her own sat out, in the same traditional style as Lilly's. It was a soft violet, patterned with swans, and cherry blossom blooms. Lilly had helped her tie the previous dress in the style they wore, a thick bow on the back accented with sparkling ropes that ended in beading or bells, but Emma found it was very difficult to do herself. With a few muttered curses, she managed to get it in some type of semblance just as she heard shuffling steps on the other side of the divider.

"Lilly is that you?" she called quietly. The answering noise of a soft keen came from the other room. Emma huffed out a breath as she tried to adjust the bow again. "Oh, good. Will you help me with this? I'm afraid I have it a bit askew."

The footsteps shuffled slowly to the sliding door, waiting there. Lilly let out a small moaning noise, and Emma rolled her eyes as she walked to the door herself, holding the dress in place the best she could with one hand. She attempted to push the sliding door, but it did not budge, Lilly's side holding fast. 

"Lilly, is your side stuck?" Emma asked, surprised at how quiet Lilly was being. As she thought about it, she wondered if the argument between Phillip had gone so poorly as to mollify her friend into contrition, a feeling of intense anger and upset pouring from the other side of the door. Emma swallowed hard, ready to hold knowing about the fight tightly to her chest until it could be used to her advantage. If Lilly was involved in any sort of trickery, it might be easier to coax it out with this information. The thought made her sad, but it wasn't as if it was unlikely. 

Lilly rasped something on the other side of the door, Emma's ears unable to make it out. Another soft moan followed, and a strange 'Ah' sound was heard as the divider door rattled. Emma pressed again, but the divider screen stuck firmly on its track, not sliding to open at all. Lilly was holding it shut. 

"Lilly, this isn't funny. What are you playing at?" Emma grunted, pushing harder, but the door did not give despite her best efforts. Lilly held fast on her side, her breathing heavy. Emma felt uneasy, letting go of the screen as a chorus of whispers and strange moans broke out in many voices behind the door where Lilly stood. 

The lights in Emma's room, a few simple paper lamps, went out suddenly all at once as the divider door began to rattle. From the brightness of the other room, shadows showed against the paper, people filling the space as they pressed against the divider wall, hands silently beating and clawing. Emma's hands covered her mouth as she backed up further, until she ran into the table she had been sitting on, the rattling of the door becoming louder. The voices converged, no longer whispering but now many chanting the same words against the paper.  

"Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungryyyy…!" 

The rattling stopped, the lamps in the other room going out. The divider stood dark in the pitch of the room, everything silent but Emma's thundering heart. As her eyes adjusted, she heard the door slowly slide open, her panic at what lie behind too much, too much, something was in that shadow waiting - 

The door slid open fully, revealing nothing on the other side. Emma let out a nervous laugh, her hands shaking as she lowered them. Taking deep breaths, she steadied herself, and began to put things together. 

This was obviously a Kitsune trick, Lilly most likely involved as well. It wasn't as if she shouldn't have expected it; Lilly had warned her enough times about their prankster ways and Emma's own distinct lack of popularity. 

Walking toward the door to leave, she was surprised to meet a solid black wall as she bounced back from it. The divider was blocked by a black surface, that when pressed was slightly opaque as it let her hand sink slightly. It reminded her of the Selkies flesh when they wore their pelts, the blubbery skin letting her hand sink a bit as she petted. This was not soft or furry like that however, but like that of a great mottled toad. Emma pulled her hand away and it came back wet, a black viscous slime sticking to her palm. She flicked it away, taking a step back and letting her other hand card over her face and into the crown of her hair. 

Wet and warm gunk fell on her hand and into her hair, her fingers pulling away in shock as she examined the sticky, clear, bubbled slime. It looked like some sort of saliva, strangely enough - Another glob hit her head, and she looked up. 

The husk mask was in the middle of the ceiling on a great thing , its mass huge and stretched. Black spider like arms pressed to the corners to hold its own bloated weight, its torso was stretched up through the divider, like some sort of slug. Under the mask, a dark mouth opened displaying broad, flat, teeth the size of dinner plates. A tongue lolled out slowly, dripping more thick dollops of drool. 

A single small 'Ah' came from its throat, causing Emma's eyes to go wide with terror. She felt rooted on the spot, unable to move; a glance down quickly confirming another set of arms had wrapped around her, a hand with two long fingers encircling her body. The thing smiled at her with its uneven teeth, lifting her as she tried to remember how to scream. 

"Hungry!" it roared, Emma finally shrieking in its grasp as its long tongue wrapped around her and she was plunged into its mouth. 

Images assaulted her, the smell of the creature acrid, musky, and cloying. 

An older woman sipping tea with deep wrinkles around her brown eyes. A dark haired man making smoke rings, his young son clapping at the shapes. A woman with a patient smile and raven curls tucking in the beds of children she has taken in to mother, afraid of nothing more than orphaning them again. A man with a beard and mustache the color of wetted stone, his eyes tired but posture proud. A beautiful maiden singing while gathering blueberries, her golden blonde hair catching on the sunlight as birds sung along. An older boy playing ball on the shore, shaggy hair in his eyes as he ran, his grin huge. A plump woman with reddish curls and a saucy smile, throwing tiles in some sort of game. A sullen young man with a shock of red hair, his tall height able to reach books in the library he needed. 

The voices grew louder still, her head pounding and ears ringing. 

"HUNGRY. HUNGRY!" 

A soft, melodious woman's voice sung through the noise, overcoming it. Emma recognized it as the tune she had heard in the strange vision of the woman picking blueberries. Her pretty words were hurried as if she was out of breath. 

  "Help us. Please, help us."

  The woman was swallowed by the noise again, the thing bellowing out its hunger as Emma felt its rage at being so hollow, desperate for anything to make it whole. It tore at itself as it screamed in fury, Emma's own screams lost under its cries. Hands clawed at her, shaking her as she struggled in the increasing pressure of the blackness; it would crush her surely, and soon she would be without air. 

A hard pinch on her side made her yelp, the noise fading as she opened her eyes to meet Lilly's look of annoyance. 

"What are you doing? Why are you down there freaking out like that?" she asked, pulling Emma up by her elbow. Shaking, Emma looked around the room, the husk standing in the corner with its face to the wall. Its mask lay on the floor between them, and Emma backed away as she pointed at it, unable to form words.

Lilly looked at the husk and shook her head. "Yeah, they do that sometimes. They like to be behind things, as if they find comfort in not seeing or not being seen. The masks help with that."

"No, no, that thing - it attacked me!" Emma blurted, and Lilly raised an eyebrow before laughing raucously. "Lilly, it tried to eat me or did, it was -" 

"Husks don't do anything unless you patiently, and I mean patiently, teach them. Even then, it can't be a complicated task or they'll wander off in search of some wall or cubby hole to stick their head in." Lilly shook her head as she giggled. "They don't eat or sleep, don't talk at all, so if you saw something it was most likely not her."

"But she - it did! It was a monster Lilly; it spoke to me and told me it was hungry. I don't know how I -" 

"If Aurora could speak, she would not have wasted her voice on you," a male voice said coldly. Phillip brushed past Lilly and into the room, sighing with frustration as he picked up the discarded mask. "If Aurora could speak, she'd talk to her husband who has been waiting for her to come back since she laid down in that cathedral and this took her place. She would answer when I ask her questions, where she went, if she's safe, and if she's coming back like she promised… she promised me… " His voice broke, and Emma looked down at her bare feet with shame. 

"Phillip, it was probably a Kit trick on her; she doesn't know about how difficult it is -" Lilly soothed, moving closer to Phillip. He instead turned, pulling the husk from the corner and facing it towards Emma. 

"Does this look like a monster to you?" he asked, his voice and body tense. 

The husk's face was visible in its habit, everything else swathed in black. She was pretty, her features familiar to Emma although it was difficult to place them or why the woman made her neck hair rise in nervousness. 

Emma shook her head indicating no, averting her eyes to once again look at her feet. 

"Kitsune wouldn't cross the line with this sort of prank. It could have gotten Aurora hurt, and she wouldn't be able to come back. No Kit would dare." He prodded a finger at Lilly, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

"If you're implying it was one of us -" Lilly began, her voice going steely. Phillip interrupted without pause. 

"I'm implying that I want no part in games, or politics any longer. This was a mistake." He held the husk a bit tighter, running a hand over the black fabric that covered her head. His voice softened. "I only want Aurora back." 

"I hope she comes back to you soon," Emma said lightly. "And I am sorry. I know what I saw, but never meant to -" 

"Keep the rest of your apology, princess. The beginning was enough," Phillip said coldly. He ushered the husk to the far door, its habit now askew revealing long golden blonde hair. Once placed back over her head, he placed the mask over where only her face was visible. Emma watched them go, now convinced that the woman with the blueberries who had sung and begged for help was none other than Aurora. 

Lilly interrupted her thinking. "So did you drink some special tea, or something? Or did you see smoke?" 

"Forget about it, Lilly," Emma whispered. "I… I think I'm ready to go have lunch with Killian. Can you help me steal away with a picnic basket?" 

"I can, but not for long. We slept through some of the minor traditions, so the next are really important. We have the communion with the spirits and the sacred tea ceremony before Chihiro drinks her own to traverse the veil." Lilly leaned against the table Emma had been massaged on, thinking hard. "My mother and Cruella surely have plans to grill you before that. You'll have to be quick, and leave as soon as we finish the bell ceremony in the cathedral."

"I can be. Also, not to be terribly rude, but…" Emma bit her lip and displayed her very askew and barely secured dress for Lilly's appraisal. "I would very much like to wear something that does not require so much tying and folding, please."

Lilly rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. Dragging Emma to a closet near the entrance of the bath house, she pulled out a few dresses before pushing them back in the overfilled space. Finally she found one that suited her discernment, giving it to Emma. 

"This will work. Red protects from bad spirits, and collects energy. It gives power. It suits you." Lilly helped Emma out of her dress (what Lilly called a Yukata, and Emma sighed in defeat at Lilly's, pristine and tied tight) and into the red dress. It was barely corseted, which seemed to be in favor here on the island, with a square neckline and a flare at the hips that led to a full skirt. The red was a deeply pigmented crimson, the sleeves and way the dress fit on her body as if it was made for her. 

Lilly walked with her to the cathedral, a picnic basket hidden between their skirts that they had pilfered from the kitchens in the bathhouse. 

"So we drink this tea, to commune with spirits, and Chihiro drinks a special blend of it?" Emma whispered as they walked along the path to another ornate building. Lilly nodded. "Why?" 

"The tea allows her to traverse the veil, gaining power and trust from the other spirits. She will undergo trials that allow her to command a targeted attack of the barrier, which can only be achieved by strengthening herself," Lilly intoned.  

Entering the cathedral was like being thrown into ice water. The power that lurked there and the energy made her feel queasy, the ever present feeling of wrongness heightened and magnified under the splendor of its roof. She ran to see Killian, but was cornered before she could explain anything, led back by Lilly and her mother. 

It was enough to send Emma into an uneasy conflict with herself and the power of her magic. The scope of how broken the barrier spell seemed to be, the chaotic anger of the spirits chipping away at it, how magic itself was decaying in swaths underneath it along with the population - the mounting pressure was enormous without the heavy handed encouragement of the involved parties. Later, she stumbled out of the cathedral without grace into the fresh air, her mind full of questions. A fair of sorts was being set up while the Maiden began her sleep, and Emma walked among the tents idly looking at the sugar sculptures, glass beads, dream catchers, and charms while trying to seek out Killian, finding him nowhere. 

She saw him turn the corner out of the corner her eye, spinning to look to where he had gone, but he seemed to round the opposite corner in the reflection cast by a gilded hand mirror in a booth. Emma felt herself getting lost even among the small amount of vendors, following phantoms that turned out to be mist with frustration. A hand caught her shoulder, and with relief she turned to find Killian smirking at her. 

"Looking for someone, pet?" he teased, and she sighed through a huff at his humor at her expense. In the light, his hair seemed to gleam silver, almost white, but she shook off the strange ideas that seemed to be whispered in the air surrounding them, surprised by the boldness of her imagination. It was not the time to think about how silky his uncut fringe would be between her fingers, or how soft he'd kiss below her neck if she was someone he wanted. 

"Princess?" Killian whispered salaciously, as if reading her thoughts. Emma's knees seemed to grow suddenly weaker, to her great concern, but that only made her resolve grow stronger. 

Straightening her shoulders, she spoke firmly as not to be tongue tied. "I felt unsettled, and I came to you. I have to ask of you to help me make a decision. Do you think I should take Chihiro's place and undergo this rite myself? Do you believe that it will help both sides?"

"It's the best thing we've got to get them allied to our cause. Give them everything you have. You have a reputation for being the Savior to live up to, after all." He was acting strangely, his usual nervous ear scratch replaced by scratching at his neck. His nails seemed sharper, but the light was poor as the sun fell. Emma laid a hand on his and he flinched away, bowing his head slightly. He buried a hand in his hair, looking bashful, before taking a deep breath to look at her with a sort of pride. 

"Love, if you think helping the denizens of this isle is a worthy endeavor, who am I to ever argue with you? When have you been wrong, Swan? When have you not risen above your challenges?" He searched her face, and for a moment she thought Lilly might be right about him feeling something. The idea made her stomach flutter with hope. 

Emma sighed. "You're right, Killian." 

He stepped closer, and her heart felt as if it might pound out of her chest. He'd been so forward here, but she never thought or would have even guessed that he had any interest in her, or intentions. Emma let him fill her space, the idea of him wanting to court her, or the thought of the thousands of ridiculous romances she was able to have Ruby sneak her into the castle and the scenarios therein, made her think longingly of what she possibly wanted. That is, possibly wanted with him . 

"I know. I have no fear for you either, so take that as reassurance. After you succeed, it will be easy to take on the Darkness… and we could…" Her heart skipped a beat, Killian slipping an arm around her waist, tipping her chin up and stroking her cheek. It was as if there wasn't enough air in her lungs. Blushing, she fell forward into him slightly because of dizziness. It was so warm, the night air not cooling her skin any longer, and indecent thoughts of everything he could do to her were like a spring garden's flowers, ready to be picked. 

Emma tried to speak, but couldn't find the words to do so. She settled for breathing his name out on a whisper, watching him smirk. As the wind blew gently, his eyes softened. 

"We can talk about something more, what comes next. A future." His whisper while laying his forehead against her own was so tender. 

"I'd like that." She smiled. 

"Hurry now love. Don't leave Isaac waiting, they'll need you as soon as possible."

"I'll be seeing you soon, Killian."

He gave her a wave, and she did not hear him whisper under his breath, his voice becoming a feminine purr. 

"Sweet dreams, princess."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Emma was found wandering the beach in a silken gown, with no memories of how she had gotten there. The village on the island was abuzz with it; nothing like the strangeness that her arrival heralded happened in the Blackwater, excitement in short supply. Not only was she a wisp of a thing, but she could not be a day older than seven or eight to his eleven or Liam and Elsa's fourteen. Liam had taken him to the shore to watch alongside the others as Isaac held her hand, helping her off the small beach and up the cliff side. There, hidden in the trees where no one could see, Emma Swan looked at him for the first time, her green eyes like another forest he could lose himself in. His father and mother had chastised him over dinner - worrying about some peasant girl was not fitting for his social stance as a Blackwater lordling. 

The next time he saw her, she was dancing at a harvest ball, her hair braided with autumn leaves and ribbon. It had been several years, his interest in girls going slightly beyond love notes and hand holding if that. She still drew his eyes, spinning lazily in her embroidered gown, looking like a falling blossom. Even Liam had been caught by her spell, and Killian had secretly hated him for his boldness and smooth confidence as he walked toward her. 

She froze when Liam asked her for a dance, looking at him with such confusion, as if he was a ghost. Sir Isaac ushered her away, and Killian shrugged. Liam told him later that the petrified girl had told him that he wasn't real, and had asked for Killian by name. She hadn't used proper titleage or etiquette, just his name again and again more shrill in each utterance, until Isaac took her to rest at his home. 

No one could say what happened, other than she was ill. Some said that she mumbled madly about both the future and the past, events that would come to pass or secrets that she should not know. Tongues wagged in the Blackwater; finding the truth therein was like finding a needle in a haystack. 

The seasons changed, no questions answered, and Emma was rarely around to create enough intrigue for questioning. The questions stopped eventually as she became the village herbalist, sending her wares down the mountain from her cliffside cabin with her friend Lilly. His good friend and the Lady of the Baelfire side of the Isle, Milah, confessed she had never bought Emma's strange remedies - but she credited that to her renouncing witchcraft in all forms, her name safe from spells and mind safe from the sale of esoterics. 

Magic ran rampant through the Blackwater, as they were all Fae, but it was taboo to do more than simple charms or common place spellwork. Potions, incantations, divining the future, enchanting, and the many manners of magic Emma did easily made her an outcast - and Milah agreed with the townsfolk that Emma was in league with a Demon, making her a witch. Rumors swirled that the Demon had stolen her sanity as payment for her skills. On some nights if you looked to the cliffs, a strange glow in many different colors radiated from Emma's small cabin. That did little to quell rumors. 

Life in the village went on. Killian and Milah grew closer, and they fell in love in a whirlwind romance that seemed to take the entire Blackwater with it. Their marriage was expected, and easily approved. As soon as their small home was up near the library Killian dutifully cared for, his brother followed suit. Liam and Elsa married, much to his father’s, Ingrid's, and Nemo's delight. His mother was gone for several years now, but he thought she would be proud of her children. 

Unlike the intimate affair Killian had held, the entire village was present for Liam’s marital feast. 

Including Emma. 

Her hair was in a wild braid, her dress without corseture or boning, flowing in swaths of mossy green cotton. Her fingers were stained in different colors, ranging from ochre to blackberry, crimson to indigo. 

And her eyes. They were suddenly the brightest green Killian had ever seen. 

Milah begged him not to say hello to Emma, making a symbol with her thumb, index and smallest finger that likened the woman with having horns. Like the rest of the villagers, her belief that Emma was a Demon-led witch held strong, even as they bought her herbal remedies from Lilly. Killian obliged, as not to upset his wife. In the end it was wise. As his brother stood to give a toast with Elsa looking on in adoration, there was a struggle in the back of the room. Emma was wild eyed, pointing at Liam and Elsa. 

"This is - it's impossible, this doesn't - please I don't understand, this isn't real! Someone help, why is this being shown to me? I need to get out of here, these are ghosts, memories - They aren't real! You are dead! Dead!" 

Emma's cries brought gasps from the crowd, with Nemo, Lilly, and Isaac pulling her from the room. Milah shook her head and muttered a prayer; the herbalist herself confirming the rumors that she had bouts of madness. Sir Isaac and Lilly desperately tried to keep her as rooted in reality as possible, but it was clear that she could not handle this event for whatever reason. She was calmed with a jacket and gag Isaac had made, sitting in the back where the sight would not disturb anyone. Although Killian thought it was barbaric to tie someone into sitting quietly (even in a wheeled chair), he thought that Emma was lucky enough to find an adoptive family like Sir Isaac and Lady Cruella. 

A strange feeling of wrongness fell on him, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. They were Fae, they should be able to heal her, heal each other, even in matters of madness. The thought had barely crossed his mind when Milah pulled him into a dance. As they spun with the other guests, Emma's eyes met his, Milah and him both laughing at Ingrid's clumsy footwork as she danced nearby. To his surprise, Emma smiled at them with the saddest look he had ever seen before she was wheeled away, disappearing into the crowd. 

That night he dreamed of Emma, even as Milah slept next to him in their marital bed. 

"You have to. You have to, before she's gone." 

Killian felt his mouth go dry, looking down at Emma's sleeping form. "This was a bad deal Lilly. You were supposed to be her friend, why did you let her do this?" 

"I fucked up. Please. You have to save her before she turns her into a shell of what she was or worse; you have to get her out of there. There's a potion, a sleeping draught or something - I don't know. I tried it and was able to get to her; but it's dangerous. She can -"

"I don't care. We can't stand around here while she… While she… I can't believe you did this, and that she agreed. Of all the stupid ideas to follow through on -" 

"Killian, it's not like I had a choice!" Lilly snapped. Killian glared, his anger threatening to boil over. 

"Bullshit, Lilly. Whatever you have to tell yourself, right?"

"Just listen. I was going to get her out, but you don't understand. My mother, Cruella, Isaac - none of them have seen anything like this. You can lose yourself in there; it takes over everything, rewriting your entire existence." 

"Then I'll lose myself happily. She'd already be doing that for me if it were me." 

"And for me. I hope Emma never forgives me," Lilly sniffed. 

Killian felt his jaw clench, something in his head clawing at his thoughts as he pushed it away. "That would make two of us, but she will. Emma is too good for the likes of us."

He woke with a start, Milah slightly stirring as he tried to remember the fragmented bits of the dream that lingered. 

Years passed, and Emma interacted with the village in small, rare, interactions. She bought food sparingly, but more often than not, Lilly bought it for her. The village was quiet, and Emma was too unpredictable, too loud. Killian professed sympathy for her, and Milah agreed that the herbalist truly had a terrible fate. 

Then Milah fell ill. 

It was nothing like he'd ever seen, as if she was being erased, her body falling apart quickly and her vibrancy muted. She became a shell, her fatigue and pain without relief until Milah let him try Emma's wares. A salve gave Milah almost instant comfort, and Killian bought as much as he could. As Milah deteriorated, they required more and more until they were out both at home and at the small stall where Lilly peddled her wares. When he asked for more, Lilly raised an eyebrow. 

"You could ask Emma. She does make the rare house call for extreme cases," Lilly whispered behind a cupped hand. 

So, Killian climbed the mountainside, up to the cliff Emma's cabin stood on. He peered in, noting how sparsely furnished the space was. There was no one inside, so he made his way to the back, following soft singing. Wearing a paint splattered cotton gown that did nothing to hide her body's shape, Emma stood with a brush grasped lightly in her fingers. Her hair was long and thrown back into an unkempt tumble of curls with no bonnet in sight, no corseture around her waist, and her feet were bare in the warm evening as she sang. 

Killian watched her paint in small strokes, tongue poking out as she finished and wiped her palms together with a clap. Her song abruptly ended and she turned to face him. 

"You're here," she said quietly. 

Her eyes were still so very green. 

"I… Beg pardon?" Killian shook his head, confused by why she seemed to stun him. For the first time things felt real, the moss and rocky soil on his feet even more so. "I'm here for -" 

"For Milah's medicine, yes. It's on the table there." She nodded her head to a small clay jar. He opened it, looking at the strange paste inside. Who had told her he was in need of it? 

"How did you -" 

"Not important. What is important, Killian, is that this will only help her for a day or two." Killian looked at the jar in his hand, terrified. Yes, Milah was getting worse, but days left? There was no way. Emma looked unflappable, her face empathetic. 

"What's wrong with Milah?" 

"It's complicated. She's wasting away, and I can't, she's - all I can do is slow it down. I'm so sorry, I know you both are so happy, and if I could do more I would. I can see how much you dream of a long life with her, and how scared you are of losing her." Emma seemed upset by his inquiry, and began to fidget. "I could possibly extend things longer if I was there, but… This will make things more comfortable. Less nightmarish."

"I'll ask Isaac, I'll beg -" 

"Lilly is a better bet. She sneaks me out to the beach, or makes distractions, and covers for me. She could… cover for me to help you."

"I'll ask her to, and to watch out for Isaac for us, but you'll come, right? Please say -" Killian began. Emma hushed him quietly. 

"Of course. I can't imagine how much of a torture this is, and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it better, I don't want this fear to hurt you. I just - I don't know how any of this is happening, but while it is, I don't want you to -" Emma stopped and closed her eyes, lip caught in her teeth, as if collecting her thoughts. "I don't want either of you to hurt. I never want you to hurt, and I try to stop it when I can, when I see them try to punish me or you. You're real aren't you? If I can keep you happy, it will be alright, and you'll be alright." 

"I don't - uh. I don't know what that means, Swan," he admitted, scratching behind his ear. Blinking out of her outburst, Emma sighed, kicking dirt with her bare toes. She nodded, looking downcast. 

"Have Lilly send for me as soon as she can."

The look of tired misery in eyes that matched the moss haunted him the entire way home, sitting on his shoulder and whispering strange thoughts into his brain. 

One whisper stood out from the others, and he wasn’t sure if it was true or imagined, though he’d swear it was truth : Emma’s canvas had been filled with one of his own, very blue, eyes. 

#Courtorderedcake #12th #January #2020 #January 12th 2020 #Hallow #Hallow Chapter XI #Captain Swan #Captain Swan Fic

[taediuswrites]

A Matter of Agreements

A writing commission for a friend. Their directions: a story between a vampire lawyer and a fae teacher, with all other details to be left to my discretion. 

I liked this, a lot.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1500

Want to commission me? Check out my commission page here!

--

“von Reiter! Baby! Hey, can you help me out with something?”

As a voice is heard behind the closed wooden door, upon which was emblazoned ‘Edvard von Reiter, Attorney at Law’, the sole inhabitant of the office glances up from his papers. The moonlight shone in through a window, yet only a candlelight illuminated the office otherwise. Papers sat piled high upon a mahogany desk, and vials of reddish-ink were lined up next to quills- a veritable high-speed signing station. Glasses are shifted up the man’s nose through a sharp-nailed finger pressing to the bridge; his other hand reaches up to sweep ebon-black hair atop his head, down to brush his dark tailcoat into place. By the puzzled look on the sharply-dressed man’s face, whoever was beyond the door was an unexpected visitor this evening.  “Enter. How may I assist-”

No time to finish that sentence. In a blur of colour, a figure throws wide the door, dashes in, and slams it behind them. The bell that sat atop the frame jangles wildly, ringing out discordant notes, until some moments pass and silence comes again. In that same time, the figure dashes towards the chair, hovering behind it. 

Immediately, the man’s eyes half-lid, and his brow falls again. Lovely. A fae.

“You know, for a vampire’s office, this place is positively clean!” A voice more high-pitched than it sounded behind the door rings out from the winged little creature. Blue skin was offset by verdant adornments, vines and leaves coiling around a lithe form. A shock of purplish, leaf-like hair sat atop their head, and pointed ears seem to perk as the figure took in their surroundings. “You’d think there’d be dust and papers scattered about, a bloodstain, maybe, but this is-”

A sharp clear of the throat cuts the fae off, the attorney folding his hands upon his desk. “Do you have a case for me, or not?” von Reiter replies. “I am a very busy man.”

“Right! Right. The name’s Elvina.” The fae pauses to bend their upper body forward in what might be construed as a bow. “So, you know all about the rules and laws and all that un-fun stuff, right?”

Von Reiter dips his head in response. “That is, indeed, my line of work. Explain to me the situation, and we shall proceed from there.” A piece of paper is fwipped from a stack; a quill dips into blood-red ink, and his chin lifts to encourage the other to speak.

“Excellent!” Diminutive hands clap together once, a surprisingly bell-like sound echoing out. “So! I was...eh- summoned by a mortal, right? Wizard, lovely chap, nice and amicable. Wanted their children to learn aaaaaall about the magic that runs through the worlds!”

“An understandable choice.” Notes are scribbled in shorthand, von Reiter’s eyes not leaving the fae. “And an intriguing choice of professor- but, continue.”

“Why, thank you! See, I knew you would understand. A-hem- but there’s a little...snag. Tiny one! Really, almost insignificant-” Here, an index and thumb come dangerously close together. “I noticed that one of the kids- lovable little scamp, but not the best at his homework, not by far, let me tell you!- wasn’t doing so well! So, I may have- may, mind you!- invited him to come home with me for some...extra lessons!”

The scratching of quill to paper suddenly stops. Perking up, von Reiter redoubles his focus on Elvina, eyelids coming close in a narrow squint.

“...And I left a little...gift behind!” Elvina smiles, bright, yet nervous.

“...You what.”

Finally, the fae comes to the desk proper. They rise over the chair, arms folded over their chest as blue-hued fingertips drum in anxiety. However, they did not sit in the chair before von Reiter’s desk; rather, they ‘sat’ in mid-air, hovering gently above it through the fluttering of glitter-spewing wings. “And maybe the wizard was a little bothered by it. Maybe. Really, I don’t see what the big deal is.” This comment comes with a roll of too-bright eyes. “The child was failing in their lessons, so it’s only right that, as their teacher, I take them for personal tutoring.”

A hand runs down the lawyer’s face. Had his skin not already have achieved its ghastly pallor a hundred years ago- or about that, since after a while, one simply stops counting- he would have paled considerably. He had a feeling where this was going, and thoughts roil like a tempest through his mind. Such flagrant disrespect for the rules of this realm! Such gross mishandling of a delicate situation! And yet, the realization hits that he should not be surprised in the least by this, considering this would-be client’s peoples’ predisposition towards trickery.

That did not mean, of course, that he could not be disappointed.

With a heavy sigh, von Reiter shifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he regards the fae. “Allow me to get this straight. You are a-”

“Teacher, yes,” Elvine cuts in. “Magical theory, history of the Wilds, so on and so forth. Go on.”

A blank stare precedes von Reiter continuing. “...And you were instructing human-”

“Children. A wizard’s children, specifically, thank you!”

“...to which one of them was failing in their lessons.”

“Really, you’d think a magical child would be better at understanding magical history.” Elvine’s hand lifts to roll at the wrist, as if to summon understanding.

Lips peel back, revealing sharp canines, as von Reiter sucks in a strained breath. “And as such, to help one of them…’better understand’...

“I knew you’d get i-”

Both hands suddenly rise, and slam down upon his desk. “You kidnapped the child!?”

That got the fae startled; arms and legs flail, and they tumble from their place in the air to the chair below them. The sudden action sends a shower of glitterdust across the room (something that, no doubt, would make the vampire’s forehead vein bulge in annoyance if his blood yet flowed). “I- I didn’t kidnap them!” they shout back, arms lifted in a defensive posture. “I simply- intended to expose them to the fae side of things! It’s hands-on teaching!”

“Hands-on?! You spirited the child away and replaced them with a changeling!”

“It’s what we do!” 

That brings a scoff, and for von Reiter to stand, one hand outstretched over the desk. “Show me the contract?”

“I-” Blinkblink. The silence is palpable as Elvina looks back towards him, head slowly canting off to one side in confusion. “The, ah… the contract?”

His stare bores back, levelled directly on the fae’s eyes. “The contract. Between you and this wizard. The deal to instruct their children. You did bring a copy of it, yes?”

Once more, the fae blinks, unevenly this time. Pointed ears begin to droop, slowly but surely. “Ah...heheh. The...contract, right!” Their hands slip from their arms, beginning to pat down at the pockets of their ‘clothes’. “Yes, well- I- I mean, I may not have a copy here, precisely…”

Von Reiter waits in silence.

“And- you know, us fae- we really deal more in pacts than contracts! All that paper- truly, it’s a waste of the trees! We hate to damage the, ah- the trees, and...ah...”

“You do not have one, do you?” he says back, the words affixed firmly between a statement of doubt and a question in hope that maybe he would be wrong this time. 

Gradually, Elvina’s smile creeps upwards, while the rest of her body shrinks back in awkward timidness. “...Not...exactly…”

Reaching behind him, von Reiter sweeps his tailcoat down. His cravat is adjusted- the cloth came undone, just a touch, in his outburst- then with gradual, purposeful motions, he sits back onto his chair. “And you thought to seal this pact with no formal proceedings, so that you might do as you pleased with your ‘lessons’. Am I on the mark?”

Elvina’s face contorts in a grimace. They cringe back, consigned to their fate slumped in the leather chair. “...Yes. You know, you’re quite sharp. I see I’ve come to the right man…!”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” von Reiter responds, already moving another slip of paper from the myriad stacks. Once more, his quill is dipped, and he begins to write in long, fluid strokes. His attention has finally shifted away from the fae to focus on this task in particular. 

“Right. So...will you help me out?”

The vampire’s eyes shut. Slowly, he draws in a deep breath. An unnecessary gesture, of course, as he did not truly need to breathe, but yet, there was something to be said about showmanship when it came to the fae. Whether he could see it or not, Elvina did, indeed, cringe back once more- until he releases that selfsame breath, and opens his eyes again. “Do get comfortable, Elvina,” he eventually responds, drawing an ‘X’ and a sharp underline at the bottom of the page. “This is going to be a very long night.”

#writing #writing commission #personal #writers on tumblr #commission

[codylabs]

The Grey Star

When people of any modern age begin their lives, they awaken in the very center of an inscrutably long story. A story older than their fathers, and their fathers’ fathers. As aged as the forgotten kings, as ancient as the eldest gods. All people have a part to play in the story, everyone who has ever walked or talked or used a tool, loved or been loved, hated or been hated, conquered or starved. They’ve all done something for which ought they to be remembered, honors and sins, lessons their experience could teach new generations, a point of view, a judgement, a word. Yet tragically, despite all the wisdom and experience heaped upon it, history remembers very little. It remembers leaders and warriors for a time, explorers and entertainers for longer, conquerors longest of all, but every one of them fades with time. Our world continues to circle the giant, the giant continues to circle the sun, the oceans freeze and melt with the seasons, and the stars look on from afar, with both ignorance and apathy. Honors are forgotten, crimes are forgotten, and people are forgotten.

I write this today in the fear that our entire world may be forgotten, alongside the crimes committed against it, and the thing that committed them. So read on, and learn the story that gave birth to me, that gave birth to the Keep, and the war against the visitor from beyond.

It started perhaps 130 years ago by my count, though I do not know when you will be reading this, or how you would convert between the length of our years and your own measure. My great-great-great-grandfather was a boy at that time, if accounts have passed accurately.

It was springtime then, when the oceans were thawing, and people were once more breaking up through the ice. One by one they emerged from the slush, shouldered a backpack, sneezed the water from their gills, and looked about to make sure their countrymen weren’t far behind. These were before the days when we knew how to keep buildings warm enough to endure the winter, so every spring began with a race back to the cities and farms that had been abandoned in the autumn, and each family had to rely on the honor of their neighbors, the fearsomeness of our own reputation, and their good running legs, to make sure they could reclaim their property. (I was not alive for that generation, and do not envy them their annual adventure. My great-great-great-grandfather seemed to remember it fondly, however, so I think many hardships are not recognized in their own time.)

Anyway, it goes without saying that most of the people were preoccupied for the first few days, so I doubt many of them noticed anything amiss. It was only when the livestock had finished thawing, and the steam motors were cranking back up to speed, and the gas was again flowing to lamps, that people had the collective luxury to be able to sit back, take a look around, and notice the third moon which had appeared in the sky.

Unlike the other bleak, rocky spheres around the gas giant, this new moon appeared featureless and cloudy, a drop of grey blood in a pool of still water. It did not reflect the sun’s golden glow or the giant’s greenish color, and it did not show itself in a crescent or a half. Instead it was all aglow as if by its own fuel, ever visible in the sky both day and night and eclipse, almost alike to a dim star.

And it was not orbiting the gas giant, it was orbiting US.

We would be fools not to suspect such a haunting visitor of intelligence or malice, and we are no fools. Our scholars and strategists and other great minds studied it with keen intent throughout that spring, summer, and fall, debating as to its size, distance, origin, and capabilities. Bunkers were dug. Fortifications were erected. Messages were launched as high toward the heavens as we could get them, and words were written on hillsides in as many languages as we could think to write them. Words like “who are you” and “what do you want” and “do not dare attack, for we are prepared.” We did not know what to think, of course, and our diplomacy was as one-sided as our knowledge of the heavens, so I suppose it all sounds a little silly now.

That winter never came. Though the sun receded in the sky and the heavenly spheres continued to turn, our visitor glowed a little brighter and somehow kept the cold away. The livestock never hibernated, our industry never ceased, and though we kept a weary eye turned upward, we prospered and continued, storing up food and supplies out of counting.

The next year, the Summer never came. The ice above us remained thick and unyielding for a year and half a year, and those that managed to chip through reported a sky which never glowed brighter than twilight, choked by a layer of black cloud, which seemed to move and shift on its own accord. Above, many animals died in their hibernation, trees tried to bloom and failed forever, while beneath, a score of underwater wars ravaged our people, as we desperately fought over the scraps of food we had recently thought so plentiful. The cloud was gone when the oceans finally thawed, and our visitor hung low, forcing the oceans into tides by its very presence.

It was then that it introduced itself, with inaudible words that were heard in the mind. Only certain people heard its words, anybody who was intelligent, or ambitious, or proud, or irreverent. “Hello.” The visitor said to its chosen rabble of prophets. “I have been testing your race, both publicly and privately, and you have proven yourselves industrious, hardy, and fierce, admirable and clever enough to be worthy of my interest. I have come to you from far away, to help your people free themselves from their primitive ignorance and their petty delusions. Ask me any question, and I shall answer it with a galaxy’s measure of knowledge.”

“Who are you?” Our prophets asked.

“I am an ancient and wise scholar. Greatest among mortal and immortal alike, and higher than all who ever lived.” Our visitor lied. “I am a light of knowledge to all those who ask. I know everything and can do anything. You may call me the Grey Star.”

“If you are so knowledgeable, then what is the meaning of life?” Our prophets tested it.

“There is no meaning.” The visitor lied. “Life is an accident and a coincidence and has no value beyond the value it assigns to itself. Measured against each other, you are valuable. Measured against me, you are not.”

“Where do you come from?” We asked.

It did not give a true answer.

But some of our prophets asked it more specific and practical questions. “How can we recover from the year of winter you cursed us with?” “How can we heal our broken world?” “How could we have survived our winters without hiding in the ocean?” “Tell us the secret of electricity.” “Is the atom the smallest thing there is?” “How can one transmute lead to gold?” “Is there any manner of bullet which can function underwater?” “

Unlike the other questions, it was to these kinds of selfish scientific inquiries that the visitor offered direct and truthful answers. And by the answers it gave, for better or for worse, our world and our people were forever changed. The ways we moved, and farmed, and fought wars changed. Resources slowly became more plentiful, materials became stronger, tools more effective, machines more numerous, weapons more deadly. By so many peculiar steps down the road of insight, life became larger, grander, more capable.

Electric motors and atomic motors replaced steam motors. Electric bulbs replaced flame. Whirling contraptions in long lines replaced the workers in the factories, and the workers themselves joined the ranks of soldiers. Atomic weapons were invented, outlawed, and used anyway. Medicines were refined. Machines became precise. We wove copper coils into thinking contraptions that could manage mathematics and information and other great feats of thought. Strong vehicles of the land and the sea were improved and refined, and were joined by vehicles of the sky. We learned how better to preserve ourselves and to kill one another. We prospered. We suffered. For decades out of count, we knew no end to the worst kinds of war, while from high above, the Grey Star watched and encouraged.

To this day, I am unclear what it had been attempting to do by contacting our people. Was it trying to instill us with awe and fear for its own glory? Was it trying to give us hope, or take our hope? Was it trying to make us forget God, and become wholly secular? Was it trying to expand the horizons of our knowledge and understanding, to make us into higher forms of life? Was it grooming us into a race of warriors for its own usage? Or was it merely trying to provoke a hungry people into a magnificent spectacle of bloodshed, so as to satisfy its own eons of boredom?

I do not know. It did not say.

But, regardless of its intended message, the message we interpreted was clear: that our mastery over our world was being contested. And we knew, with a grim and crystal clarity, and without a single shred of doubt, from the first moment, to a man, we knew: Our true enemy was the Grey Star.

And it had to be destroyed.

Uhhh just some unfinished nonsense that I thought was fun. Ideas and seeds for stories have been bouncing around my head recently.

#the grey star #original #scifi

[ofbloodandfaith]

Day 22 of 30 Days of Hera

A quote, a poem, or piece of writing that you think this deity resonates strongly with

There is, of course, the hymns to Hera both Homeric and Orphic

I) THE HOMERIC HYMNS

Homeric Hymn 12 to Hera (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C7th to 4th B.C.) : "I sing of golden-throned Hera whom Rhea bare. Queen of the Immortals is she, surpassing all in beauty: she is the sister and wife of loud-thundering Zeus,--the glorious one whom all the blessed throughout high Olympos reverence and honour even as Zeus who delights in thunder."

II) THE ORPHIC HYMNS

Orphic Hymn 16 to Hera (trans. Taylor) (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.) : "O royal Hera, of majestic mien, aerial-formed, divine, Zeus' blessed queen, throned in the bosom of cerulean air, the race of mortals is thy constant care. The cooling gales they power alone inspires, which nourish life, which every life desires. Mother of showers and winds, from thee alone, producing all things, mortal life is known: all natures share thy temperament divine, and universal sway alone is thine, with sounding blasts of wind, the swelling sea and rolling rivers roar when shook by thee. Come, blessed Goddess, famed almighty queen, with aspect kind, rejoicing and serene."

There are also more modern poems that I find reminds me of Hera

Still I Rise by  Maya Angelou - 1928-2014

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.

Little Red Cap by Carol Anne Duffy

At childhood’s end, the houses petered out

into playing fields, the factory, allotments

kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men,

the silent railway line, the hermit’s caravan,

till you came at last to the edge of the woods.

It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf.

He stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud

in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw,

red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears

he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth!

In the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me,

sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and bought me a drink,

my first. You might ask why. Here’s why. Poetry.

The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,

away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place

lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake,

my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer

snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes

but got there, wolf’s lair, better beware. Lesson one that night,

breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem.

I clung till dawn to his thrashing fur, for

what little girl doesn’t dearly love a wolf?

Then I slid from between his heavy matted paws

and went in search of a living bird – white dove –

which flew, straight, from my hands to his open mouth.

One bite, dead. How nice, breakfast in bed, he said,

licking his chops. As soon as he slept, I crept to the back

of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with books.

Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head,

warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.

But then I was young – and it took ten years

in the woods to tell that a mushroom

stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds

are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf

howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out,

season after season, same rhyme, same reason. I took an axe

to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon

to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf

as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw

the glistening, virgin white of my grandmother’s bones.

I filled his old belly with stones. I stitched him up.

Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.

A Woman Speaks BY AUDRE LORDE

Moon marked and touched by sun   my magic is unwritten but when the sea turns back it will leave my shape behind.   I seek no favor untouched by blood unrelenting as the curse of love   permanent as my errors or my pride I do not mix love with pity nor hate with scorn and if you would know me look into the entrails of Uranus   where the restless oceans pound. I do not dwell within my birth nor my divinities   who am ageless and half-grown   and still seeking my sisters witches in Dahomey wear me inside their coiled cloths   as our mother did mourning. I have been woman for a long time beware my smile I am treacherous with old magic   and the noon's new fury with all your wide futures   promised I am woman and not white.

Women in Labor BY MARY RUEFLE

Women who lie alone at midnight because there is no one else to lie to Women who lie alone at midnight at noon in the laundromat destroying their own socks Women who lie alone at midnight: Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates Women who lie alone at midnight as the first furl of starlight pearls the moon with nacre Women who lie alone at midnight sending a postcard bearing the face of a bawling infant who cries “I am for the new” Women who lie alone at midnight reciting the names of shoes Women who lie alone at midnight spurting unjustified tears, the kind that run sideways never reaching the mouth, the kind you cannot swallow Women who lie alone at midnight singing breast away the burden of my tender and afterwards burp Women who lie alone at midnight obeying the laws of physics Women who let their dreams curl at the end Women in a monastery of flamingos Women who die alone at midnight contributing to the end, to lost time, to the rain and flies, seeing the bird they saw trapped in the airport surviving by the water fountain What’s more, try it sometime It works

To The Indifferent Women BY CHARLOTTE ANNA PERKINS GILMAN

A Sestina

You who are happy in a thousand homes, Or overworked therein, to a dumb peace; Whose souls are wholly centered in the life Of that small group you personally love; Who told you that you need not know or care About the sin and sorrow of the world? Do you believe the sorrow of the world Does not concern you in your little homes? — That you are licensed to avoid the care And toil for human progress, human peace, And the enlargement of our power of love Until it covers every field of life? The one first duty of all human life Is to promote the progress of the world In righteousness, in wisdom, truth and love; And you ignore it, hidden in your homes, Content to keep them in uncertain peace, Content to leave all else without your care. Yet you are mothers! And a mother's care Is the first step toward friendly human life. Life where all nations in untroubled peace Unite to raise the standard of the world And make the happiness we seek in homes Spread everywhere in strong and fruitful love. You are content to keep that mighty love In its first steps forever; the crude care Of animals for mate and young and homes, Instead of pouring it abroad in life, Its mighty current feeding all the world Till every human child can grow in peace. You cannot keep your small domestic peace Your little pool of undeveloped love, While the neglected, starved, unmothered world Struggles and fights for lack of mother's care, And its tempestuous, bitter, broken life Beats in upon you in your selfish homes. We all may have our homes in joy and peace When woman's life, in its rich power of love Is joined with man's to care for all the world.

#30 days of deity devotion #30 days of devotion #30 days of hera #dodekatheism #hellenic polytheism #hellenismos #hellenic pagan #for the love of apollo #for the love of the dodekatheon #ares is great #Hail King Zeus and Queen Hera #hermes is my god #Hades is great too #Hestia is a sweetheart

[strangelittlestories]

Moments

A story about the kind of person who learns confidence without kindness...

It was quite a unique experience for Cyrus, the god of smiles and bright words and dancing, to find himself in a situation he could not talk his way out of.

Indeed, were it not for the arm across his throat with the bone crashing against his windpipe, he would have found the situation quite the novelty.

As it was, he sucked in what little air he could, took note of the hazy feeling vaguely beginning to circle round his godly brain, and surveyed his options.

Teresa, the god currently holding him against the wall, surveyed him right back with cold, unblinking eyes.

He still possessed his patented smiles, of course. Smiles so bright they had been known to blind mortals who saw it (though he always made sure to miracle their sight back later … well, almost always … who had the time?) and charm even the distant moon into rising each night.

It wasn’t a weapon to be deployed at full strength lightly (except when he forgot). But this was a desperate situation, so he curled his lips upwards with all the solemnity of twin keys being turned to activate the big red button.

Nothing.

She was looking right at him and *nothing*.

Maybe her arm was blocking the view of his mouth?

It’d be a shame, he thought woozily, if perhaps the last and greatest smile of all time was lost to history.

If smiles and words were both out, perhaps he could still make use of his third greatest asset: his eyes. Great dark brown pools they were, flecked with spots of green, so they gave the impression of a deep pool in a woodland glade. He made them as wet and wide and anime-like as he could. His eyes took on an irresistible aspect, like a labrador crossed with Betty Boop.

Still nothing.

People had gone to *war* over his eyes before!

This wouldn’t do. Well, if his charms wouldn’t work, he would have to lean on his other godly gifts.

He was still divine wasn’t he? Still a creature of power and purest will? Beneath his skin coiled all the power of creation!

He threw back his head and brought it forward again in a mighty headbutt that cracked the air like thunder.

When the dust settled, Teresa was unmoved.

Cyrus’s vision went dark. His smile, for the first time, faded.

…

When Cyrus woke up, Teresa was still standing over him, staring impassively.

“I really thought I was a gonner there,” he gasped, “still, good to know it was all a misunder-”

“Stop.” Teresa’s voice was like a boulder slamming down on him.

“Stop? Stop! Got it. Stopping. Shutting up. Not a peep.” Cyrus mimed zipping his mouth shut. The silence stretched on icily.

“Remember.” Teresa finally said. “What it feels like. To know all your words are wind. Remember.”

And she walked away.

Cyrus watched the god go. She was the god of mountain peaks, immovable objects, protest and the moments of clarity earned by travelling distant horizons.

He let himself smile again. His words were wind, were they? Well, even mountains could be worn down by wind given enough time…

If he had been a smarter god, this is when Cyrus would have realised he had failed to learn his lesson and taken his first step towards his end. Had he been a smarter god, he would have thought and he would have stopped.

But he wasn’t.

So he did not.

Moments of clarity like this are the compass needles on which destiny can swivel. And his destiny had just turned southwards...

#writing #short story #flash fiction

[dramioneasks]

Fics like Reverse by Lady Moonglow, where everything is different. And the situation is hopeless, but the way it's written you see that there's hope. And there's so much new / different in the world that it's refreshing to read?

What Lies At The Other Side by Akai_Seirei - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy accidentally stumble into an old forgotten artifact at Hogwarts with Hermione Granger no less, while they receive detention together and curiosity got the best of him, touching it. Unexpectedly, Draco’s action get them transported to another reality were war was everywhere and survival the only way of life. Will they be trapped inside the dark world forever or they will be able to come back home?

Dreams of Blue by Trinkisme- T, 6 chapters - “She dreams in shades of blue….. She dreams of things she can’t remember.” Draco and Hermione both find each other in this blue world. Why are they there? Why can’t they leave? Did their world change after Voldemort died? Or are they the ones who changed? The ones who died? Dramione.

Singularity by dormiensa- T, 10 chapters - An unexpected confrontation leads to repeated meetings over the years.

Paradox by olivieblake- M, 28 chapters - Draco Malfoy wakes up one night to find Hermione Granger in his bed. But she’s really not Hermione Granger at all, is she? Dramione, Year 7, Deathly Hallows AU. COMPLETE.

The Dream Trilogy Book One: To Dwell On Dreams By HelenJay - T, 49 chapters - Harry is lost. His parents are alive and Draco Malfoy is banging on his door. What is this place, how did he get here? And, most importantly, does he really want to leave? Follow Harry during his Fifth Year at Hogwarts into an alternate universe, where his parents survived that fateful night in Godric’s Hollow, but he soon finds out they weren’t the only ones.  Lord Voldemort still looms over the magical community and it seems his interest in Harry has not waned after fifteen years.  Events quickly spiral out of hand and Harry must rely on some unlikely friends if he is to survive this strange world and get home.  But with everything he has ever dreamed of there, at his finger tips, which reality will he chose? “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that Harry.” J.K. Rowling.

The Dream Trilogy Book Two: Tread On My Dreams By HelenJay - T, 53 chapters - Draco is lost. Harry’s is the world in trouble now, but it’s Draco’s past that is catching up to them. Fast. After the events of last November everyone is left reeling from Harry’s journey into a parallel universe, but apparently destiny isn’t done with him and his friends just yet.  The doorway between worlds is weakened and it seems near impossible for anyone to stay where they belong.  Or, is it just that where they belong is a little further from home than they thought? “But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” W.B. Yeats.

The Dream Trilogy Book Three: What Dreams May Come By HelenJay - T, 74 chapters - Everyone is lost. The boundaries between worlds are crumbling and dreams are rapidly turning into nightmares. Will Harry and his friends find the strength to save everything they hold dear, or will darkness claim them all forever? Thrown to the different corners of the Multiverse, Harry, Draco and their friends soon discover that this is much bigger than any of them could ever have imagined, and that the cost could potentially be higher than anyone ever feared.   “To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil.”  William Shakespeare

Title: DoppelganglandAuthor: damnedscribblingwomanRating: MGenre(s): Romance, AngstChapters: 9Word Count: 25,545 Summary: All Hermione wanted out of her evening was to close up the pub in peace and quiet. That plan sort of went out the window when she was kidnapped by Draco Malfoy, who proceeded to drop a baby on her lap. Also known as the one that’s almost but not quite a Muggle AU.

Alternate History - Furare - T, 32 chapters - Snape’s first Defence lesson goes horribly wrong for Hermione when she is caught in a freak spell explosion and finds herself in a strangely altered version of the world she knows. While desperate to find her way back to normality, she can’t help but get involved when she realises that her memories of things that suddenly never happened could be the key to thwarting the plans of this world’s Voldemort. She has to wonder, though… will she ever be able to get back to her own reality? And even if she could, would she really want to go?

A Second Time By: wheezym. T, WIP. Draco Malfoy goes back in time to escape his fate of being a Death Eater. But what happens when a dark magic time turner and one fatal mistake changes everything? What happens when Harry Potter gets sorted into Slytherin, never meets his friends, and joins forces with Voldemort? Will Malfoy have to be the hero of his own twisted time? DM/HG pre DH

Title: Chronos HistoriaAuthor: In_Dreams Rating: MGenre(s): Romance/Drama Chapters: 27Word Count: 102,839 Summary:  Hermione and Draco stumble upon a mysterious portal and find themselves hurtled back through time a thousand years. Forced to team up to find a way home, they quickly realize that much of the history they believed to be fact, wasn’t true after all. A founders era, time travel Dramione. Winner of Most Creative Plot in the Granger Enchanted Awards 2018.

- Lisa

#reverse #similar fics #au #parallel universe #time travel #Anonymous

[howlingmoonradio]

January 13th Playlist

Back to normal this week (whatever that means) here on the program, with some brand new, just new, and the rest of it. Here’s how it looks on “paper”..

Side A

Howling at the Moon-Hank Williams Song to the Siren-This Mortal Coil New Love-Burial Gentle Flame-Satoshi Fumo Crystals-Quivver Nothing New to Feel-Quivver State Farm-Yaz

Side B

Hope You Never-Tom Petty Love Vigilantes-New Order History Lessons-Allo Darling Tell Me Sad-Betty Serveet Golden Porsche-Mogwai Silver Pistol(Live)-Brinsley Schwarz Jazz on the Autobahn-Felice Brothers Let the Mystery Be-Bun E. Carlos

[ncnducorduco]

RADHA MATHUR called into ORACLE FM. They were a little bit - BRASH & - TEMPERAMENTAL at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little + COMPASSIONATE & + FAITHFUL.  They said they’ve been working as A CLASSICAL DANCER, and thinking about aligning themselves with NO ONE since they have been living in Nova Satus for THIRTY FIVE YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge THE VELVETEEN SOFTNESS OF LOTUS’, THE SOUND OF BELLS AT HER EVERY STEP, AND DEVOTION SO DEEP IT FEELS LIKE LIBERATION vibes . [ KRITI SANON, HINDU GODDESS LAKSHMI, CIS FEMALE, UNKNOWN, SHE/HER ] @revivalreblogs

SHE WHO HAS MANY NAMES

𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒉𝒂 divine love and devotion / 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒂 daughter of the earth / 𝒌𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒊𝒌𝒂 the one who lives in krishna's heart / 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒏𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒏𝒊 the consort of vishnu / 𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊 one who speaks like nectar / 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒉𝒊 the perennial spring / 𝒗𝒊𝒃𝒉𝒂 the radiant one / 𝒍𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊 remover of the world’s miseries / 𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 one who caries lotus in hands / 𝒗𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂 the pure one, 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒎𝒚𝒂 the one who gives prosperity to women / 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒊 granter of boons

WRITTEN ACROSS HISTORY

It is said that Devi Lakshmi was born from the stirring of the primordial milky ocean by the gods and demons as they struggled to obtain amrit, the nectar of immortality. The name Lakshmi is derived from the Sanskrit word Laksya, which means aim or destination. Lakshmi is the goddess of wealth and prosperity of all forms, material and spiritual, as well as a personification of devotion, love, and beauty. She along with the Goddesses Saraswati, and Parvati makes up the eminent goddesses of hinduism, representing Shakti the latent power required to reach pure consciousness and essential to create, sustain and destroy. Just as energy can never be created nor be destroyed, but changes from one form to another; the devis take many incarnations to do different tasks. Creation through Saraswati or sound and knowledge, preservation through Lakshmi or light and sustenance, and destruction through Parvati or heat, and strength.

Though she resided dormant as a primordial source of power at the birth of creation, Lakshmi’s story in the known world began with a meeting between the great but volatile Sage Durvasa and Devraj Indra.

Sage Durvasa with respect, offers Indra a garland of flowers. Lord Indra takes the flowers and rather than humbly placing it around his own neck, he puts the garland on the forehead of his elephant Airvata. The elephant not knowing any better takes the garland and throws it down on the earth. Durvasa gets angry at this disrespectful treatment of his gift and he says to Indra, “you have an inflated ego and in your arrogance you have disrespected me!” So Durvasa curses Lord Indra, stating that his kingdom will be ruined just as the garland was ruined from being throwing onto the ground due to his his excessive pride.

Durvasa walks away and Indra returns to his great palace in the high heavens. The effects of the curse show themselves without fail, he, the other gods, and his subjects begin to lose their vigour and energy, all the vegetation and source of sustenance starts to wither away, men stop doing charity, minds become corrupted, and the base desires of all become uncontrollable.

With the Gods growing weak, the rakshasas (demons) invade the heavenly abode of the Gods with success for the first time since it’s creation. Chaos spreads seeping into the hearts of even the mortals below. So the Gods go to Lord Vishnu (the preserver of the universe) who suggests they churn the ocean to restore the power back to the Gods. The work of churning this primordial ocean will bring back the elixir of immortal life to the gods.

The churning is symbolized as a literal tug of war between the Gods (good) and Demons (evil). The sea being so vast, the only way to achieve their purpose was to take a large snake and wrap it around a mountain and sink the mountain into the milky sea. The gods tugged at the tail and the demons at the head of the snake. The coiling and uncoiling of the snake caused the mountain to spin, and the sea to swirl.

From this churning many things rise up out of the ocean, the most important among them being the Goddess bearing the elixir they all sought. Goddess Lakshmi rose out of the waves, fully grown from an unfurling lotus, her skin glowing as radiant as the sun. She was the personification of fortune and prosperity whomever she would choose to reside with would prosper. Lakshmi chooses Vishnu, with his calm eyes, and infectiously mischievous smile, and so the Gods in turn. But by this incident it’s made clear to everyone, the Goddess of Fortune forsakes even the gods should their arrogance gets out of hand. She represents not only material wealth but spiritual contentment as well. When the Goddess is angered, you are unable to do good work, you lack energy, grow insatiable, you loose your willpower, and life itself can feel meaningless. She offers wisdom, strength, beauty, luck, sovereignty and splendor.

Lakshmi became the consort of Lord Vishnu, though their union was so much more profound than can be out to words. In them humanity found aspiration, and the meaning of true love unburdened by the fear, selfishness, pride, jealously, mistrust, expectations, and even attachment. A love so devout that they often don’t even need words, or proximity to be reminded of one another. Their love not only exemplifies partnership between two people, but also the relationship between a worshipper and whom they worship.

Over the course of her long life she took many forms to nurture and to punish, to teach lessons, and remind humanity of their dharma, be it as a goddess or as an avatar. She was Sita in the Ramayan, and in the Mahabharat she was both Radha, and Rukmini. The divine love she shared with Krishna (Vishnu’s avatar in that life) in the mortal remains forever immortalized, and worshiped to this day. Her purpose as his wife Rukmini later in life was to aid him as he reestablished dharma through the bloody cleansing that was the Kurukshetra war.

Taking the name Radha again as she satiates her curiosity over the happenings of Nova Satus with the promise of the world returning to as it was thousands of years ago when the mortals had not forgotten of them, is perhaps about nostalgia more than anything else.

THE DICHOTOMY OF STRENGTH & WEAKNESS

POWERS & ABILITIES

Absolute Wish, Cycle Embodiment, Enlightenment, Existential Manifestations, Supreme Deity Physiology, Time Deity Physiology, Trinity Force, Invincibility, Beauty Embodiment, Energy Embodiment, Prosperity Embodiment, Preservation, Purification

WEAKNESSES

Lack of worship

Curses and blessings can be negated or cured under the right circumstances.

Blessings can only be given following proper rituals/prayers.

Bound by her word/promises

Can not sustainably exist on the mortal plane for long periods of time, as her celestial form would be too overwhelming, thus she can only manifest in partial form or as a human/supernatural avatar.

Vulnerable to mortality as a human avatar

Avatars may gain at least partially separate personalities from herself.

Should an avatar die having strayed too far, or without having unlocked the knowledge or their true self that part of her essence is forever lost.

graphic psd by castorbytes

#❛ ･ﾟ× ( lakshmi › ʀᴀᴅʜᴀ ᴍᴀᴛʜᴜʀ ) #❛ ･ﾟ× ( visage › ʀᴀᴅʜᴀ ) #revive.intro