#my main hope though is that this will allow us access to our important documents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kuramirocket · 3 years

Text

Sandwiched between private properties in Southeast Austin sits a little-known cemetery off Hoeke Lane, just west of U.S. 183. From the outside, there’s nothing that indicates the site is the final resting place for a number of Mexican and Mexican-American residents who died decades ago.

It’s a wilderness. The headstones, many of which date back to the 1940s, are easy to miss. The weeds are overgrown, and trees and shrubs cover much of the 4.5-acre plot.

The cemetery has been called a couple different names over the years — the Montopolis Cemetery and San José II. But no sign will tell you that. In fact, there’s scarce information available about the cemetery’s history at all.

But members of the community and a team of researchers are trying to change that. They want to trace back its history and ensure the cemetery, along with its sister site in nearby Montopolis, is preserved.

Diana Hernandez is the lead researcher for (Re)claiming Memories, a research group out of UT Austin that seeks to restore and preserve missing histories in communities of color. She and her team have been collecting death certificates and reaching out to descendants of those buried at the cemeteries to help piece together the history.

“Once we start to research the people that are buried here and start to find archival documentation for each person, we start to see the community come to life through the cemetery,” she said.

The History

To understand San José II, Hernandez says, we have to start about 2 miles north at San José I. This historic Mexican and Mexican-American cemetery was built around 1919. It sits between two churches off Montopolis Drive, though neither of them own it. The site is believed to be unclaimed, or orphaned, meaning no one is responsible for its upkeep in any official capacity. But neighbors and community members have taken care of it as best they can over the years, mowing the lawn, pulling weeds and cleaning off gravestones.

A metal archway stands at the entrance and reads “San Jose Cementerio.” The cemetery was founded by a mutual aid society called the Union Fraternal Mexicana, and it served the migrant sharecropping community. This was during segregation.

“Mexicans weren’t necessarily allowed to be buried in white cemeteries,” Hernandez said. “In some cases I've seen where there's a white cemetery, and then right next to it is the Mexican section … In this case, it was just a completely different cemetery."

When Cementerio San José started to get full, the second one was created in 1949 in Del Valle. Over the years, the cemeteries changed hands. The original San José hasn’t had a known owner for several decades. San José II has an owner, but she’s believed to be in poor health and unable to maintain it, according to Hernandez. KUT reached out to the owner for this story, but did not hear back.

Based on their research so far, Hernandez and her team estimate San José I and II have more than 350 burials combined. But understanding how many burials are at each individual site is a challenge. That’s partly because on death certificates, the name Montopolis Cemetery was often used interchangeably for San José I and II. And not every burial has a gravestone.

Many people buried at the cemeteries died during concurrent epidemics, like influenza, tuberculosis and pneumonia.

“They were getting so many bodies that they were burying people in layers on top of each other, and they stopped documenting who all was getting buried,” she said. “Because there's no documentation for the number of layers for the people that were being buried in these mass graves, we're just never going to know. There's going to be layers of people that we're never going to be able to identify.”

Hernandez began researching the San José cemeteries at the end of 2019, just before the area was hit with another outbreak of a deadly disease — COVID-19. And again, this predominantly Latino neighborhood was hit harder than others.

“These histories repeat themselves,” Hernandez said. “I think that’s one of the reasons why this work is important, because it kind of sheds light on these pasts that weren’t acknowledged the way they should have been. We can use this knowledge to improve our present.”

The Descendants

Frank Monreal remembers the days when Montopolis Drive was just a dirt road. He and the other neighborhood kids, some 50 years ago, would play on the giant oak tree that stands in the middle of Cementerio San José. Instead of bicycles, he and his friends had horses.

“Everybody rode horses back then,” he said one day while at San José I. “We used to come out here, and they were our lawn mowers. They let them eat the grass and keep the grass low here.”

Monreal has relatives buried at San José I and II. From an early age, he understood death was a natural part of life. He often helped out with funerals. He remembers one burial happening at Cementerio San José when he was a kid. But it’s been a long time since anyone was buried there, he says. Most gravesites appear to date back to the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s.

There were more gravestones back then, he says, but some have weathered or broken over time. He used to walk through the cemetery on his way to school. He’d often see people putting flowers on graves, something he doesn’t see much anymore. Now, many relatives have died or left.

“That’s inevitable, you know, because generations change,” he said. “People move away.”

Preserving the cemetery, though, is important, he says, especially as gentrification has altered the landscape of Montopolis over the years.

“[The cemetery] is sacred ground to us, from our ancestors,” he said. “I don’t want to see it gone.”

Micaela Johnson, a 19-year-old artist and activist, can trace part of her family tree back to the Cementerio San José. She’s a member of the Limón family, one of Austin’s founding families whose descendants now number upwards of 3,500.

Many of her family members grew up and had businesses in Montopolis, like the Limón Bakery. She said her grandparents probably have connections to at least a quarter of the people buried at San José.

In her family, passing down stories from generation to generation is a common tradition. She remembers hearing stories about Aurora, her grandfather’s sister, who died in 1940 of pneumonia when she was 11 months old. She was buried at Cementerio San José, and her gravestone was decorated with marbles. But Johnson hasn’t been able to locate it.

She also remembers stories of Concepcion Trevino Garcia, her great-great-grandmother who died in 1939 from tuberculosis and was buried at San José. She left behind her husband and five young daughters.

“She was one of the strongest women that I have ever heard my family talk about,” Johnson said. “She was very driven and very loving.”

Garcia's grandchildren still visit the cemetery on Mother’s Day and leave flowers, Johnson said. Her family’s connection to the cemetery has inspired Johnson to get involved with (Re)claiming Memories and help ensure the San José cemeteries are well kept.

“It’s not just a place where people are buried,” she said. “It’s the life and the heart of a lot of our ancestry.”

One of the more recent headstones at Cementerio San José belongs to Augustina Rosales, who was at one time believed to be Austin’s oldest living resident. She died in 1994 at age 116. Near the back of the cemetery, she’s buried next to her husband Marcos, who died in 1951.

Rosales had 13 children and raised several others who were relatives or orphaned as if they were her own. She liked to dance to conjunto music and cook for her family, according to an Austin American-Statesman article about her death. Rosa Moncada, Rosales's great-granddaughter, says “she was awesome.”

Maintaining The Cemeteries

Moncada has several other relatives buried at San José, including grandparents and two older sisters who were born premature and died. Growing up in East Austin, Moncada would go with her mother and siblings to visit the cemetery. But they went less frequently over time, in part because the grass was often so high they couldn’t easily walk through it.

When they heard about the work Hernandez and her team are doing to help maintain the cemetery, Moncada and her sister Juanita Moncada Bayer started visiting again. And now they’re trying to keep it maintained, bringing relatives together to mow the lawn and clear out dead tree branches.

But maintaining the cemetery consistently isn’t an easy task. San José I is 2.5 acres.

“We thought, well, let's do what we can,” Bayer said. “But unfortunately, our mind tells us we can do it. But our bodies — like, that's hard work.”

(Re)claiming Memories and members of the community hosted a cleanup for San José earlier this year and hope to host more. They have been reaching out to city and county leaders, asking them to allocate more resources to the cemeteries' maintenance.

The more challenging endeavor will be cleaning up San José II. The site is difficult to access, making it hard for people to visit and maintain it.

Monreal remembers going to San José II as a kid to visit his grandfather’s grave with his dad. Back then, San José II had a proper entrance and was easier to get to.

Now, a locked chain-link fence blocks the main path that leads to the cemetery. Several sources told KUT the fence was put up by the property owner next door, perhaps to keep people from trespassing. KUT reached out to the law office that owns the property and was told it didn’t have anything to do with the gate. Hernandez and the research group are trying to get to the bottom of the issue and hope to create a proper entrance, so descendants can visit.

The area has long had problems with people dumping trash and gravel. A mound of dirt and debris now presses against fencing on one side of the cemetery.

And warehouses are being built on the southeastern side. This worries Hernandez because the cemetery hasn’t been surveyed; some burials could be outside the perimeter and could be disturbed. Community members have expressed concern that debris from construction is impacting the cemetery.

When KUT reached out to the construction manager for the company that’s developing the site, he was surprised to learn there was a cemetery next door. (“That is a jungle,” Brent Ramirez said.)

The cemetery itself is zoned for warehouse and limited office use, which some are concerned could make it vulnerable to development. (Re)claiming Memories is working with Council Member Vanessa Fuentes to get the proper zoning for it and a historical designation. Fuentes toured the cemetery earlier this year.

“It’s sad to see because it looks as if it’s been neglected and dismissed, especially with the development that’s right next to it,” she said. “Those are families and families’ history and legacies and relatives that are buried there. Those are stories that need to be told.”

Currently, pink marking flags stick up in various spots within the shrubbery of San José II. That’s the work of Joaquin Rodriguez, an Austin resident who has been going out to the cemetery to remove litter and clean off and mark gravestones that have been covered up over time.

He first learned about the cemetery late last year while researching his ancestry. Rodriguez, who was adopted, had taken a DNA test and learned he had relatives buried at cemeteries throughout Austin, including San José I and II. After seeing how neglected San José II was, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The (Re)claiming Memories team wants to eventually create a digital map or database where people can upload information about the people buried at the cemeteries. Hernandez hopes this crowdsourced online resource will help bring the stories of the deceased together and shed light on the history of the Mexican and Mexican-American community in Montopolis.

The team is also putting together an exhibit on the cemeteries for the Mexic-Arte Museum in September. Johnson plans to perform a poem called “We Are Lost History” and sell shirts she designed, the proceeds from which will support the cemeteries' upkeep.

Johnson said she recognizes that Austinites who are not directly connected to the cemeteries may not see a reason to care about them, but she thinks they should.

“They might just see it as another gravesite or another old ancient Mexican burial ground, and they might [think] it doesn’t matter because it’s not a part of them,” Johnson said. “But it is a part of them. It’s a part of the history of Austin.”

And as development continues to alter the look and population of the Montopolis neighborhood, she says, it’s urgent to keep conversations about the cemeteries going.

“If we’re not actively trying to be like, ‘Hey, this matters,’” she said, “it’ll get washed away.”

#🇲🇽#usa #united states #texas #texan history #mexican history #cemetary #cemetaries #montopolis #mexican #mexican american #austin #austin texas

2 notes · View notes

elimoreno11 · 4 years

Text

Virtual Sketchbook Section 3

Title: Flight into Egypt

Artist: Luca Giordano

Culture: Italian

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Dimensions: Image: 60 x 86 1/4 in. (152.4 x 219.1 cm)

Credit Line: Bequest of John Ringling, 1936, SN 157

First of all, Luca Giordano was born in Naples, Italy, in 1634 and his father was the painter Antonio Giordano. Although there is limited information about Giordano’s life, it is known that he spent his entire life traveling to Rome, Florence, and Venice. His first artwork, St Luke Painting the Virgin, is documented for 1653, however, it is probable that he had begun his career years before then.

Giordano was from Italian decency and in 1650 he traveled to Rome, Florence, and Venice with his father. During his travels, he studied and drew artworks of High Renaissance masters, which included: Raphael, Pietro da Cortona’s, and Peter Paul Rubens. It is also known that he copied many techniques that he saw artists utilizing and it is even said that he trained with influential artists like Ribera. Giordano got married at the age of 24, with a 12-year-old Margherita Dardi and after he got married, he started dedicating his life to his art. In 1692, Giordano was invited to live with Charles II of Spain, and this allowed Giordano to paint in all types of styles. After the death of Charles II in 1700, he worked for private clients until he left for Naples in 1702.

Furthermore, the main individuals that are depicted in this painting are Virgen Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. The elements that are found in this painting are: emphasis, balance, unity, variety, and contrast. The viewer can quickly identify what the focal point is in this painting because the sun shines down directly on them. Additionally, the angels and the clouds in the background makes the focal point stand out to captivate our attention. The emphasis of this painting focuses on Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. Giordano created this emphasis on these three figures so that the viewer could perceive what they were going through at that moment. The viewer can perceive the concern and stress that Mary and Joseph were experiencing because of their facial expressions.

This painting is balanced because of the angels that are depicted on the entire painting. Angels are known to be biblical because they portray the heavens, therefore, the angels add harmony because they are guiding the Jesus to safety. They also add unity because they can be seen as if they are comforting Mary and Joseph as they rush to get Jesus to Egypt. The proportion of the angels also create emphasis on Mary, Jesus, and Joseph.

Variety adds diversity to the artwork because of the colors Giordano used. The use of warm colors contrast to the blue robe Mary is wearing and the viewer can faintly the colors that surround the others. Giordano used this technique because the warm colors balance out the painting. Also, the use of warm colors display variety and unity because of the calmness the viewer receives from looking at it.

In addition, the story behind this artwork is based upon the Gospel of Matthew. The book in the New Testament, states that an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream warning him that King Herod would seek to kill Jesus. Herod would seek to kill Jesus because Maji came to Jerusalem asking King Herod where the king of the Jews was. In addition, when Herod realized that Maji had not brought Jesus back to Jerusalem, hence he killed every child under the age to two that lived in Bethlehem. I was raised as a Catholic, so this painting is intriguing to me. I admire this painting because when we are studying the bible, we have to use our imagination to understand the what the Gospels are saying. This painting allows me to see my faith on a canvas and be grateful for what I have.

This artwork forms part of the Renaissance movement. An artist who inspired Giordano was Jusepe Ribera. Many of Giordano’s artworks involved religious topics, so it can be predicted that he was a religious man. There are not many sources that state whether he was Catholic or Cristian but that is for the viewer to determine.

To conclude, the importance of this painting to society is that this painting helps us feel hope and gratitude toward Jesus and God. This artwork inspired me because I went through so much the summer of 2019, and the only thing that kept me going was art. When I went to the Ringling Museum, I immediately connected with this painting because even though Joseph did not see God, he trusted him. He did what he asked and that made me realize that God is always with me. Moreover, we can often forget that Jesus died for our sins, so that we could live. We also tend to forget that God is guiding us through our journey, no matter the situations that we face, we should know that we are not alone. Seeing these types of paintings should be a reminder to oneself that God is real and that we should have faith.

Works Cited:

“National Gallery of Art.” Artist Info, www.nga.gov/collection/artist-

info.2529.html.

Campanelli, Daniela. "Giordano, Luca." Grove Art Online. 2003. Oxford

University Press. Date of access 12 Oct. 2020, https://www.oxfordartonline.com/groveart/view/10.1093/gao/9781884446054. 001.0001/oao-9781884446054-e-7000032371

Proof that I went to the Ringling Museum:

1 note · View note

reel-em-in · 4 years

Text

Representing the Real - Proposal and Research Report

Proposal:

‘Spilt Ink’ is a short, 5-minute documentary which tells us the life of a World War 2 soldier after the war. David Duff was a flight engineer who was sent home due to tuberculosis. He wrote poetry to reflect on the war. We intend to tell David’s story through excerpts of his poems, this allows audiences to gain an insight into the mind of a recovering soldier after conflict. David is sadly not alive anymore, however his younger brother William (our director’s Grandfather), is. We will be interviewing him about David’s life as well as recording him reading out the excerpts of poetry. William has many of David’s old war belongings; these will be key visuals for our documentary as they can help tell the audience more about David. We intend to take a more experimental style of documentary; mainly using the voice-over of the poems as our narration, relying on visuals as well as small interviews with William to help convey to the audience the context of the poetry. We feel that by being more experimental we can create a more emotionally impactful film, whilst still being true to David’s story.

Originally we intended to make the documentary about David being a flight engineer for Lancaster Bombers, the planes used for the Dambuster bombings. However, after a couple of sit-down’s with William, we discovered that David’s recovery was a far more interesting story. We have done extensive research into David’s life after the war. We have also read every poem by David that we could find to help our understanding of him as a person, as well as to create the narrative voice-over.

Our visuals will consist of a mixture of archive footage, and our ow footage. To begin with William Duff, the only surviving sibling of David Duff, will be seen walking in and sitting down with a photo album. Transitioning into archive footage of WW2, as well as shots of the first hand items we have access to: medals, cap, flight logs, RAF magazines, a model Lancaster plane, etc. As the story progresses to the next aspect of David’s life, we will see a page turning to signify this new chapter. The visuals matching what is being said in the voice over, with important places being plotted on a map, a simplified and somewhat stylised representation of David’s lung being removed as part of his TB treatment (using medical diagrams), and archive images of Tor-Na-Dee hospital. Once again, a page turn will signify movement onto the next chapter, now focusing on David adjusting back to civilian life, with the main visuals being made up of archive images from family photo albums. To bring our documentary to a close we will see William Duff close the photo-book, before seeing footage of him going about his daily life, showing that life still goes on and David’s memory is kept alive.

The audio within our documentary will consist of voice over, as well as sound design that works in tandem with our visuals. The voice over is made up of excerpts of poetry that David Duff wrote post-war. This allows us to tell his story in his own words. Though the poetry is being read by his brother, William Duff. The sound design of the documentary will match up to the visuals and what is being discussed in the voice over. When the topic is WW2 for example, we intend for the soundscape to be reminiscent of what a soldier may have heard whilst at war. When the topic moves on to Tor-Na-Dee hospital, the soundscape shall also be reminiscent of this, with the sounds of beeping medical machinery. We feel that the combination of voice-over and sound design will help convey David’s life as well as make the film more impactful and immersive.

‘Spilt Ink’ aims to give insight into the life of a soldier in World War 2 through a soldier’s poetry. We feel that this film is important as most people who lived during the War are almost gone; we want to document their experiences before they can no longer tell them. Our director is the grandchild of William Duff, meaning they have an emotional connection with this story and will be able to stay true to David’s story. We believe that by using David’s own words from his poems, we will convey how important his poetry was to him and is recovery. In turn conveying how this creative outlet helped him articulate his experiences in a therapeutic method. We hope for our documentary to be suitable for all ages, though we feel that it will appeal more to those with an interest in the history of WW2, and of the military. We would like to distribute out documentary to Edinburgh film festivals with a focus on documentary, especially due to the focus of our film being someone born and raised in Edinburgh. We also intend to make it available on platforms such as YouTube and Vimeo.

Research Report:

My initial research into the topic of our documentary began with looking into The Dambusters as a whole. Looking into who was involved and what they did. During this process I looked at the development of the bombs used by the Dambusters, and the locations that they were sent to during WW2. This lead to possible ideas in terms of imagery that could have been used within our documentary.

The second step in our research was to look at what items we had access to that belonged to David, giving us an idea of primary source items that we could use within our film. Jemma took photos of the main items and sent them to our group chat. This included photos of David’s war medals, his military ID card, parts of his uniform, and his flight logs. I then spent some time trying to cross reference these flight logs with the information I had found about the locations of Dambuster missions.

This lead to the discovery that David might not have been in the Dambusters as we originally believed, though he was certainly a flight engineer during the Second World War. Our focus thus changed from being the Dambusters, though is still focused on WW2 and the RAF.

We then went to visit William Duff, David’s only surviving sibling. This allowed us all to look at the items we had previously only seen photographs of. Allowing for a more detailed look at the items, especially the flight logs. It was during this visit that we were also able to see the vast amounts of poetry that David wrote after the war. This not only gave us the idea to focus more on the poetry, but also to try and tell the narrative through excerpts of the poems.

During our visit, we also conducted a preliminary interview. This was very informal and was mainly to try and get an overview of David’s life. This allowed us to find out more about him, and to discover what part of his story we wanted to focus on. As well as giving us an understanding of how William is to interview. Very willing to talk, and comfortable with being recorded, yet prone to tangents.

During meetings as a group, we decided that we wanted to construct our voiceover through David’s poetry. Allowing us to tell his story through his own words. Due to this, as our final aspect of our research, we spent a day reading through his poems, and selecting verses that we felt would work together to construct an understandable narrative. Putting them into an order so that they told the story of David’s life post-war as he saw it.

1 note · View note

nicolewoo · 5 years

Photo

Life In The Fast Lane

Summary: Life with Fergal Devitt ran at full speed, but he tries to slow it down.

Pairing: Finn Bálor (Fergal Devitt) x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, rough sex, SMUT (18+ only peeps) Do not interact if you’re under 18!

Fergal and I laughed and joked over breakfast. He’d taken me to a fantastic little coffee shop with a funky atmosphere and some great food.

“I love it here”, he said after the waitress took our order.

I glanced around trying to forget my desire to hold his hand. “This reminds me of my coffee shop at home.”

Ferg stopped looking around and looked directly into my eyes. “Tell me about it.” He prodded.

Well, they have great coffee, teas, smoothies and food. They have the absolute best brownies ever.” Ferg lifted his eyebrow when I said that.

“Brownies? T’at doesn’t sound healthy at all.”

I chuckled, “It’s good for the soul.” He rolled his eyes at me. “If we’re going to be together, you’re going to have to understand that sometimes I need chocolate.” I was trying to look determined.

He started laughing, “Ah, ok. Got it.” he giggled.

“I love working from the coffee shop. They’ve got wi-fi, and a lot of us who own our own businesses work from there. It gives us a chance to collaborate with other business people.”

“Sounds pretty awesome.” Ferg smiled. “We’ll have to visit when you go home.” The conversation lulled as we ate, and I used the time to watch him. Those eyes, the veins in his arms, the way the shirt stretched over his chest. This man was beautiful, and he was mine. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I’d spent years admiring him. Not just his looks (which were stunning), but his heart, his generosity, his kindness. How did I ever deserve this man? I knew. I knew it was a gift from God. One that I wasn’t going to take for granted. I thought back to the times I’d taken for granted with my husband, and I felt a twinge of guilt.

“What’s going on in t'at beautiful head of yours?” He asked.

“There’s just so much changing so fast.” I mused.

“Changin’ for the better?” he prompted. I nodded in agreement. “Yes, better, but just so fast.”

“Luv,” he started “My life runs fast. All da time. Yur gonna have ta get used to it. I’m gonna take t'ings as slow as possible with’ us, but my whole life is fast.” He said gently. “You’ll learn to roll with d'a punches. I’ll help.”

I nodded yes, “I understand.”

Fergal set his empty plate and napkin to the side. “We should start planning for tomorrow. I am headed back to Alabama, to see t'a doc about my shoulder.” He sounded as if he was trying to say it gently. “I’d like ya to come along.” He said. That made me smile. “Really?”

“Yeah!” he laughed. “WWE has a couple of apartments by t'e hospital and physical therapy. Right now, Seth is staying in t'a same apartment as me, so if ya come wit’ me, he’s gonna find out about us.” He peeked at me to gauge my reaction.

“Ok, but I need to see when I’m going to start work.” I said.

“I already cleared it with the McMahons.” He looked sheepishly at me. “We’re supposed to start watchi’ NXT episodes while we’re t'ere.”

Part of me was happy, but part of me was mad. Did he even have a right to adjust my schedule? I realized that he was just trying to make this work. “Ok, but please consult me if you want to change my schedule.” I asked. He nodded in agreement.

“Sorry babe, jus’ wanted to get our life together started.” He paused, “So, what’s on the agenda today?” he asked.

My mind started swimming with everything on my schedule. “First, I need to run my business.” Fergal nodded in agreement. “Then I’m hoping to find a gym to work out in.”

“I can help ya t'ere.” He chimed in. “The performance center has a state o’ t'e art gymn. I’m headed there to work out today too. I’ll get ya in.” Work out in front of Ferg? Not ideal. They say some women look sexy working out. I was NOT one of them, but what choice did I have now?

“Well, the performance center was next on my list. They want me there about 3 pm.”

Ferg’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, “Already? Guess t'ey want to you sign an employment contract before we go to Alabama.”

We decided on a plan of attack. First, get tickets to Alabama. Second work. Third pack. Fourth work out. Fifth, meet with William Regal at the performance center. Yeah, my life was about to get hectic. I looked back at Fergal. He dialed his phone and smiled up at me.

“Katie!” he said on the phone. “Can you get me another ticket to Alabama? Yeah. Name’s Y/N.” He waited while Katie did her magic, “Tonight? Yeah. We can do that.” She’d booked us a red eye flight leaving Orlando at 11 pm. Fast… too fast. But this man is worth it.

We headed back to the condo, and Ferg ran some errands while I worked. After I packed, we went to the PC for a good workout. I caught Ferg watching me a couple of times, but we were each focused on our own workouts for the most part. Rather than head home, I showered at the PC and got dressed for my meeting. Fergal stuck around and introduced me to different talent and staff, some of whom I met at the dinner party” until Paul walked in.

“Ferg” they clasped hands and did a half hug. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Jus’ got a workout in. Figured I’d stick around and introduce Y/N to people.”

“You plan on staying for the meeting?” There was a slight annoyed sound to Paul’s voice.

“Nah man! I’m gonna work with d'a talent until she’s done. Help get dat ring rust off me.” A look of relief passed over Paul’s face. “You get Y/N all to yourself for a while.” he joked. “Jus’ give her back when you’re done.”

William Regal was an imposing man. I didn’t realize he was 6'3” until I was standing in front of him. Regal in front of me, Paul at my side…. I felt…. small in comparison, and it wasn’t just about the height differences. Here were 2 men who helped make WWE what it is. The amount of knowledge and experience these 2 had was astonishing. They were both so calm while the butterflies in my stomach were doing somersaults.

Fake it till you make it. I repeated to myself over and over as we settled down in a conference room.

Regal had been kind, gentle and incredibly polite when we met, but it wasn’t until the 2 huge men sat down that my nerves began to settle.

“I’m really happy to have you here, Y/N” Regal said. “We are getting ready to make some big changes around here, and from what I hear, you’re the right person to help us.” He had heard about me too? Is there anyone in this company that wasn’t talking about my work or my personal life?

The three of us started filling out paperwork. All standard paperwork except for the non-disclosure agreement. I skimmed the document, and was surprised to find that this NDA wasn’t standard. I wasn’t even allowed to tell co-workers about what I was working on.

“Can I ask why?” I looked puzzled.

Regal tapped his finger on the document and said, “sign first, and then we’ll explain.” I looked to Paul who simply nodded yes. Oh hell…. at this point in time I might as well trust them. I signed.

“Great.” Paul looked at Regal, “Any more paperwork?”

“Nope. All done.”

“Ok, here we go. William and I are working on making NXT the third brand. As it is, we are already running it like a third brand, but we’re working on getting a TV deal. If we can make that happen, Vince has agreed to make NXT a full brand.” Paul said. My mind swam with the possibilities.

“Essentially,” William said, “it will split NXT into two. One main brand and one developmental. Like Paul said, we’re already operating that way. Your job is going to be largely based on helping our social media reflect a professional brand like RAW and Smackdown.”

And now I knew why the NDA was so strict.

Paul took a deep breath. “Got it?” I nodded yes. “We know this is going to be different from what you’re doing for your customers, but we didn’t make the decision to hire you lightly. You’re on top of social media trends, and you’ve got a fresh eye. We are going to rely on you to tell us what we need to hear.” William chimed in, “Even if we don’t want to hear it. Can you do that? Can you tell truth to power?”

Truth to power? Yes. Yes. I can do that. “Absolutely.” I nodded.

Paul continued, “Good. There’s going to be times when we as a company are apt to do things the way they’ve always been done. We need YOU to ensure we make changes when and where necessary. Because of that, you will have un-fettered access to William.” I arched a brow, which elicited a chuckle from both men.

“You’re going to be on the road from what I understand.” William asked.

“After a couple of weeks,” Paul chimed in.

“I actually like that,” William continued. “You’re not going to be working around our social media team, so you won’t fall into the trap of doing things the way they’ve always been done. You are going to be a breath of fresh air for the whole department. I CAN’T have your supervisors restricting what I hear from you.” It all made sense, and internally, my mind fought with the whole concept that I was going to be so important. The more they explained it though, the more I understood the reasons for it. NXT was going to be it’s own brand, and Paul wanted to run it HIS way. Ok. I could do that.

The meeting continued for a couple of hours as we discussed what my duties would be, and how I was going to do my job from the road. While in Alabama, I was to research 15 NXT stars’ social media accounts and report my ideas on them to William Regal. I was also to research NXT’s online reputation. I thought to myself that I’d just done the same thing for the whole company preparing for this trip. The only difference was that I was going to be able to go into much more detail.

By the time I left the meeting, a crowd had formed around Fergal. He was helping an athlete learn a new move. I knew this kid was one of the ones I was going to be looking into. I looked through the files that Mr. Regal had given me. Yes…. There was this kid…. Ricochet. He was built, tan and from what I could see, incredibly talented. I found a table to set the files on, and began figuring out who all was gathered around Fergal.

There were 7 of my stars glued to his side; soaking in any information he could teach them. This was a great sign that these wrestlers were dedicated to their job, plus I’d be able to get Fergal’s input on their wrestling and their personalities.

Paul walked through as I was watching the wrestlers with a big smile, “Already started, huh? Or are you just watching Finn?” He teased.

“Can’t I do both?” I joked back. He gently patted me on the shoulder, and off he went.

The flight was late…. stopping at the grocery store when we landed made us even later. We didn’t get to the apartment until 2 am. I put the groceries away and we headed to bed. I may have been tired, but years of waking up at 9 am every day had trained my body…. I woke at 8:45 without an alarm. I silently cussed my body, but I knew I needed to get up and work. But first….. breakfast.

I got to work quickly knowing that the guys would want healthy food. I chose to make a giant kale quinoa power bowl. As I started cooking the onions down in olive oil, the whole apartment began to smell great.

I was adding the kale in when I heard Colby’s bedroom door open. I heard him long before I saw him.

“Damn Ferg that smells amazing. I hope you made enough for 2………..” As Colby turned the corner, I realized he was wearing nothing but underwear just as he noticed that a woman was cooking.

“Ahhh” His hand shot down to cover his privates, “Orrrrrrrr 3, I guess. Give me a second, please.” He asked as he ran back to his bedroom. He returned moments later with shorts on while he pulled a shirt down. “Sooooo, you must be…” he had obviously heard about me and forgotten my name. He took a seat at the breakfast bar.

I gave him a warm smile, “Y/N” I said. “You’re Colby. I’m a big fan.” I stopped cooking and shook his hand as he took a seat at the counter.

“What are you making, and seriously, is there enough for 3?” he laughed as he tried to smooth the frizz out of his hair… finally resorting to putting it in a ponytail. “Absolutely!” I chimed. “It’s a Kale Quinoa power bowl.”

His eyes widened, “I’ve never knew kale could smell so good.” He said sincerely. “How do you like…..”

I was interrupted by Fergal’s sexy morning voice, “Good god woman! What smells so good?” he asked while walking to the kitchen.

Ferg and Colby greeted each other with hand shakes and half hugs. I pretended not to see the look Colby gave Ferg. Afterward Ferg snuck behind me and wound his arms around my waist as he peeked over my shoulder to see the food.

“Low fat, low carb, low salt, high in protein. Will that do?”

Fergal laid a gentle kiss on my temple. “Darlin’ if it tastes as good as it smells, it will do fine.”

I asked how they wanted their eggs and finished the dish while the boys discussed their recovery.

When we finally sat, and started eating, Colby dead pan said “Ferg, marry this girl. If she can make kale taste this good, she’s a keeper.”

Fergal just laughed as he grabbed my hand. “It really is great, babe.” He squeezed my hand and we started talking about me working for WWE.

“I know Paul is a huge fan of yours, but to get your girl hired here and on the road with you? That’s huge Ferg.”

Fergal ran his thumb over my knuckles. “Nah man. She got herself hired. T'ey wanted to work wit’ her before I even met her. She’s pretty damn special.” Ferg looked deep in my eyes, and I couldn’t help but smile shyly.

Colby wadded up his napkin and threw it at Ferg. “Get a room, you two.” he joked. “You must be really special to charm Paul like that, Y/N.”

“Eh,” I said. “Just passionate.”

“Don’ sell yourself short.” Ferg raised my hand to his lips and kissed it.

After breakfast, the guys headed to PT, while I stayed to work. The 3 hours they were gone were all it took for me to run my business. I was just starting to look through the WWE files when Ferg returned without Colby.

I heard the door open and turned to see Ferg coming in. He didn’t speak; just walked over to me, pulled me to my feet and started kissing me…. so softly…. so tenderly. Good grief! This man could kiss! Ferg began running his hands over my back as we kissed. Slowly, tenderly, teasingly. I hummed as he pressed himself closer to me and started kissing me more passionately. His fingers began digging into my skin, desperately.

I couldn’t even think. The work on the table next to us; the past; the future; everything disappeared from my mind. All that existed at this moment was Fergal and me.

He began to gently push me back toward his bedroom. As we entered the room, he closed the door and locked it. His kisses went deeper. His fingers pushed into my skin harder. He started guiding me toward the edge of the bed. One of his hands was wrapped around my waist, and the other was cradling my head when I felt the bed against my legs. He laid me down as gently as a parent would lay down a child. He sank down on top of me. Between the passionate kisses and the gentle actions, my head was swimming. I didn’t know what to expect next, but I knew I needed him. I moaned into his mouth, and felt his lips curl into a small smile.

Fergal sat up, his legs straddling me, pulled his shirt off then mine. As he laid on me, kissing me, I reveled in the feel of his skin against mine; both of us burning with desire. His hands began rubbing my side, my hip, my arms and then he reached my nipple.

In a matter of seconds, he went from gently palming my breast to sucking my nipple, and I went from gently rubbing his back to digging my fingernails into him. He must have liked it, because I felt him smile against my lips again. He moved his legs between mine; easily pushing my legs apart. He sank back on top of me and began teasing my nipple with soft sucking and gentle nips. He switched sides, concentrating his ministrations on my other nipple. Each time his teeth gently grazed my nipple, I felt a twinge run through my body ending with my heat clenching, hoping to find friction, but finding nothing, and I moaned in disappointment. I wanted him so bad it hurt.

Each time I moaned, he pressed our hips together. I could feel his hard cock through the clothes, and my core clenched again. I moaned, he pushed. I moaned, he pushed. When will he give me what I want?

When he didn’t show any signs of moving, I reached my hand between us and tried to undo the button on my jeans. His hand followed right behind and pulled mine away from my button. “No, love,” he whispered and pulled away just enough for me to see the determination in his eyes. “Let me make love to you MY way.”

“Your way is going to drive me insane,” I whispered as I leaned up to kiss his chest.

He smiled a bit, “Love, trust me.” He pulled back from me again and looked deep in my eyes. His hand reached up to stroke my cheek. “Do you trust me?” he pleaded. Yes, yes I did. I nodded yes; which earned me another gentle smile. He leaned down to kiss me again. A deep, soft, long kiss that melted everything inside me. My nipples got harder, my core got wetter, my skin got more sensitive. He slid off the end of the bed and leaned over to kiss just above my waistband. “I” kiss “want” kiss “to” kiss “worship” He undid the button “your” down came the zipper “whole” he licked where my zipper had been “body.”

He slid my pants and underwear off then his own. The sight of his cock fully erect sent another jolt of desire through me as I prepared for him to fill me, but instead, he reached for my right foot. He began massaging my foot. It was so gentle and so intimate. Then my other foot. He began massaging up my legs, peppering kisses as he went. As he reached my knee, he wrapped his arm around my legs and bent them up. He laid the first kiss on my inner thigh; sweet sweet torture. Massaging, kissing, licking his way slowly up to my core. I was certain I was going to go insane, and my body tried to buck up against him. Then the lick…. across my slit. I felt everything inside me tense. Another lick. A gentle kiss on my bud. Oh fuck. I can’t handle this. I can’t……Finally, his mouth surrounded my clit and his tongue began to flick over it. Fuck Fuck Fuck. My body bucked against his mouth.

He glanced up at me; his beautiful blue eyes so full of love and lust. He slid two fingers inside me. My body clenched again, this time relieved at the feel of his fingers inside me. Slowly, he slid his fingers in and out, sucking and licking my bud. It was tortuously slow. Tortuously gentle. Tortuously amazing.

Instead of the quick, violent orgasm I was used to, my body slowly built up to my bliss. He looked up at me again and nodded his head. I fell……. slow, hot white tingling throughout my whole body. My orgasm was more intense than any I could remember. It lasted for days and days. His fingers continued to fuck me as I came.

When I had stilled, and his fingers pulled out of me, he began gently massaging my hips, my stomach, my breasts. He buried his face in my neck, gently kissing and sucking. I still couldn’t move. I was completely at his mercy. He slowly, carefully pushed against me, the head of his dick sliding against my slit just once before he entered me. Once inside me, he stopped and kissed me. I reveled in the feeling of him filling me up. My body bucked against him and I saw him smile. “Wasn’t that orgasm better than normal?” he asked.

“Mmmmmm yes,” I answered.

“D'en let me go at my own pace.” He chuckled. He lowered his head and took my nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin then removed his mouth and blew cold air over it. I didn’t think it could get any harder, but it did, and he closed his mouth over it again. He may have been trying to slow things down, but I felt his dick twitch inside me. I moaned. For a fleeting second, I thought he was going to lose control, but he didn’t. He just kept torturing my breast with his tongue while he stayed still inside me. I ran my hands over his ribs, his back, his ass, feeling all of his muscles…. all tight…. He needed a release. My body bucked against him again, and his cock twitched again. Then, he began to move. Tantalizingly slow. Tantalizingly gentle. Kissing my lips, my neck my breasts. My hands exploring him. My heat pulsing around him. This was it………….

I heard the front door of the apartment close. “Ferg!” Colby yelled out.

“Fuck” Fergal said against my neck.

“Ferg! Where are you man?” Colby knocked on the bedroom door. “Dude, you in there?”

“Fuck” Fergal pulled away from me, and out of me. I moaned in sadness.

“Get off the girl, Ferg.” We heard him try the doorknob, but the door was locked.

“Fuck off!” Fergal yelled, and Colby started laughing.

He began teasing us. “Seriously, get off the girl. I’m hungry!” Colby said. The look on Ferg’s face was so stern, I was happy it wasn’t aimed at me. “I’m gonna kill him,” he whispered to me as he grabbed his shirt. “Get under the covers” he barked. I did, and Fergal held the shirt in front of his dick as he answered the door.

“What da Fook do ya want?” He asked Colby.

Once Colby saw Fergal, he started laughing. “I was joking but, I guess I did interrupt something.”

“Yes you did!” Fergal growled. “What do you want?”

“I was hoping we could go to lunch so I could get to know Y/N better.” Colby raised his hands in surrender and backed up a couple of steps. “Why don’t I come back in 15 minutes?” he offered to placate Fergal.

Fergal slammed the door in Colby’s face and yelled, “Make it 30 minutes” He looked down at me with lust in his eyes, and he yanked the blankets off my body. Colby kept talking…. something about picking lunch up and bringing it here…. some apologies…

“Now, where were we?” Fergal surveyed my naked body. He knelt at my feet and said, “Ahhhh. I remember as he leaned in and placed a kiss on my knee. “That’s it, I was working my way up from here.” He teased.

“NOOO!” I half yelled half giggled. He began gently rubbing and kissing my thigh. “You were much further along than that.” My hands pawed at him, trying to find something to grab onto so I could pull, him up to me.

He quirked up the corner of his mouth pretending to be thinking hard. “Nope. Nope. I think I was about here,” he said as his tongue flicked over my clit a couple of times.

“No.” I laughed…. “farther than that.” A couple more flicks made me moan. He slid his fingers inside me again, “Was I here?” he smiled up at me as he curled his fingers over my g-spot.

“Fuck!” I cursed.

He curled an eyebrow at me. “Are you cursing or reminding me where we were?” He had a devilish grin.

“The latter.” I chuckled.

“Ahhhh. Yeah. I remember.” Fergal said as he slid into me. Once he was inside me he stopped. “I’m sorry about Colby. He kind ruined my plans ta make slow love ta ya all afternoon.” I nodded. “Guess we’ll jus’ have to speed t'is up.” He grinned. He knew I wanted to go faster. He began to rock back and forward at a slow pace; an evil smirk on his face. “But I’ve got a little time to play.”

I listened as a low moan escaped my mouth. The sound made Fergal’s dick throb inside me. He pulled back so his tip was barely inside me. He slowly ran his hands down my legs. When he reached my knees, he raised them up and put them on his shoulders. Then he slammed back into me. Fuck! He was so deep. I exploded and he stilled.

When I opened my eyes, I saw him smiling at me. “Ya look amazin’ when ya cum, darlin’. I could get addicted to watchin’ you.” Then he pulled out of me, got off the bed ad flipped me onto my hands and knees. He gave me no warning as he climbed up behind me and slammed back into me. Fuck Yes! I wasn’t sure if I said it out loud or just thought it. Either way, Fergal seemed to know. Digging his fingers into my hips, he yanked me back and filled me completely. My body took over. My hips bucked, my back arched, my hands grabbed at the blankets. A stream of moans, exclamations and feral sounds came out my mouth, but I couldn’t control it. All I could think about was him hitting my g-spot over and over and over.

His husky voice brought me back to reality. “Cum for me now” he grumbled as he pushed even harder and deeper into me. He was so deep, it bordered on painful… blissfully painful….

My body was wracked with my next orgasm, and I felt him let go. He bucked into me a few more times as my core squeezed every drop of semen out of him. We both collapsed and recovered for a few minutes.

“Did ya know you cuss when you cum?” He taunted me. He rolled to face me and propped himself up on his elbow. I think I blushed, and he laughed.  “I think I made more sounds than cussing.” I put my hand over my face in embarrassment.

He quickly reached to gently remove my hand. “You got nuttin’ to be ashamed of, luv. It felt amazin’ knowin’ I was making you feel so good.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “I t'ink you started speakin’ in tongues.” He teased.

“You’re just too damn good.” I sighed. “And now we have to get ready for lunch.”

#wwe #wwe smut #finn balor #finn balor x reader #smut #nsfw #fergal devitt x reader

9 notes · View notes

echristides-blog · 4 years

Text

Blogs

Methodology - 11/12/19

Dear Blog,

As a part time student at the beginning of a three-year journey of a qualifying degree and as placement won’t begin until January 2020 I thought I’d take the opportunity to embark on this adventure by looking into what spurs my curiosity and interest along the way, letting my intuition, reading and teaching guide my methodology and inform my self-growth:

My main approach was visual, searching for art exhibitions at galleries that really spoke to me and I felt very drawn to, this includes one film that was heavily based on the mental ill health of a fictional character. This method allowed me to experience, be influenced by the visuals as well as view the artist or subject through an art therapy lens - looking and thinking like a trainee art therapist. The most important part of this approach was supplementing my reflections with qualitative scientific input from art therapy literature and from peer-reviewed articles in related fields giving elements of validity and reliability whilst enhancing my learning as I explored different areas and possible meanings under the concept of art therapy.

Having come from a musical background and understanding the influence sonic environments have had on me, one blog is of experimental thinking - again approached scientifically, as I am interested in exploring the idea of using sound in an art therapy setting. My research has shown that this is still a developing area in the context of art therapy even though some professional writing has been contributed here. I feel this approach would have been more complete for me had I made some response art to an environmental soundscape.

Two blogs are purely experiential, based on the process of making my own piece of art and experiencing working with different art materials. I felt I had to document important realisations that shaped my understanding and learning of the art making experience for myself and also what it could be like for clients in therapy.

I also felt it was important to include some reflexivity in my methodology as this is key in developing practice and I hope this is reflected in a number of my blog posts. Because of this, I believe that a reflection on personal therapy could have been a good addition here.

Back to School! - 01/10/19

Dear Blog!

I have just come home from the ‘official’ first day at uni. Going back to academia makes me a little anxious… Will I quickly remember how to be a student again? How will I juggle work, study and life? I’m a little nervous about the journey the MA Art Therapy will take me on. Even though I have a cloud of thoughts above me, it was great seeing familiar faces from the Foundation course – we bonded and shared experiences so feeling that sense of safety was comforting… The Foundation taught me that Art Therapy is a creative route to better self-understanding but its unpredictable process is a little bit of a scary thought. I guess all these emotions will be coming into play at some point, this is an MA in Art Therapy after all.

Today was very exciting. In fact, as soon as our lecture on Research and Enquiry began I couldn’t wait to get started! This emotion continued throughout the taught lessons. I'm already thinking of areas in Art Therapy I want to explore; sound/music in art therapy, the intrinsic properties of art materials, gender in art therapy, art and psychoanalysis, art therapy and the criminal mind. So here I am, my mind travelling at 100 miles per hour after having a plethora of information thrown at us. Although I'm loving that we can navigate our way through the course, I do have to slow down as I know that my starting point is research, research, research!

I found it quite intriguing today that I started doodling during our Research & Enquiry class as I realised that I was doodling the same shapes I drew on the first day of the Foundation. Although the patterns were identical there were differences in size, in colour and they were positioned on different parts of the page in my notebooks. This was very interesting to me... (Interesting…a word I’m sure I’ll be using a lot…). I do wonder what the role of an intuitive image is? (Case & Daley, 2013: 124). While doodling has been associated with being disinterested in a primary task, recent research shows that the act of doodling releases mental stress, which in turn improves focus and helps memory and recall performance (Gupta, 2016: 17). Dr Robert Burns relies on doodling to reveal what is going on in the unconscious, claiming that the way that EEG leads transmit brain activity to a piece of paper, one’s hand also does (cited in Pillay, 2016). Even though I believe I could try to make sense of my doodling, I’m certain that art therapy theory, psychoanalytic theory and neuroscience could shed a lot more light here...

Word count: 434

(Doodling in first lesson Sep 2019)

(Doodling in first lesson September 2018)

References

Case, C. Dalley, T. (2013) ‘The Art Therapy Handbook’, London & New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group.

Gupta, S. (2016) ‘Doodling: The Artistry of the Roving Metaphysical Mind’, Journal of Mental Health and Human Behaviour, Vol 21 (1), pp.16-19. doi: 10.4103/0971-8990.182097. (peer reviewed)

Pillay, S. (2016) “The Thinking Benefits of Doodling”, Harvard Health Publishing, https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/the-thinking-benefits-of-doodling-2016121510844 – Accessed on 02/10/19 at 19:15.

If ‘Joker’ (fictional character, 2019) was in Art Therapy… - Reflections 07/10/19

Dear Blog,

Last night I went to the movies to see Joker, a psychological thriller focusing on the main character’s mental illness. This film emphasized that what we are at birth and what we become and why, are very different identities. Everybody has a story...

The film makes it known that Joker was never really in a nurturing environment, loved or cared for and that he had a very dark upbringing. It was a memoir of the criminal before he became destructive to the world around him. Joker is a fragmented individual and sees a therapist who didn’t succeed in developing a therapeutic relationship between them. The irony is that Joker seemed to be collaborative during their sessions by opening up about his emotions but she wasn’t very interested in understanding him or responsive to his needs.

It made me think about the significance of the art therapist, the art therapy process and its multitude layers of containment through the different therapeutic relationships within art therapy. In his therapy journal he wrote “The worst part about being human is mental illness”, which striked me in particular as he was aware of his disturbances but was really struggling to deal with them. I guess he was trying to fight his demons alone. Mental illness is like being in a prison you can’t free yourself from and no one can understand the suffering if they haven’t experienced it. His sense of powerlessness lead to him making use of a gun - he used it for physical, emotional and psychological protection. It became his shield, forbidding anyone to upset him. It really saddened me that the therapist failed to create that “holding environment” and that she in fact discouraged emotional nourishment (Murphy cited in Liebmann, 1994: 16). What if he missed his last chance for positive change because the professional was incompetent?

Perhaps the art therapy setting and process would have been more suited to Joker as he is a very visual individual, constantly daydreaming and painting a clown’s face on his. His imagination made him creative but he was only able to be this expressive alone. It felt like he was self-soothing himself through his creativity but even his creativity was imprisoned in his own sense of self. Art therapy allows one to be free and creative through play in what Winnicott calls the “potential space - an environment which can tolerate the successes and failures of experimentation, but which is ultimately reliable” (cited in Liebmann, 1994: 16). We can’t release on humans the pain and aggression we can release in the art therapy room... His creativity could have been his way out.

Word count: 434

References

Murphy, J. (1994) ‘Mists in the Dark’, in Liebmann, M. ‘Art Therapy with Offenders’. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

Joker (2019), [Motion Picture], Todd Phillips, USA: Warner Bros. Pictures – Viewed 07/10/19.

Sound in Art Therapy - Reflections 15/10/19

Dear Blog,

Yesterday in our Introduction to Art Therapy lecture we talked about how to approach our first art therapy session as trainees. How we could prompt a client if he or she is struggling to engage in art making was a question posed and this triggered a thought I have a lot of faith in... Although usually the visual sense for humans is perhaps the more dominant, we are nevertheless multi-sensory and senses can stimulate subjective experiences. Art Therapy is a creative way in to the psyche just as much as externalizing what is part of the psyche is – therefore, exploring creativity when utilizing art therapy is very important. “Sound can be an invasive phenomenon of everyday experience in that it assists our engagement with, immersion in and commentaries with the environment in which we live” (Taylor & Fernstrom, 2017: 4). I am very interested in non-musical sounds evoking memory and emotion as there seems to be a lot less written about it in comparison to great work on memory and music.

Sound has the capacity to mark time, place and narrative “making the past psychologically present or problematized, creating a dialogue between the present and the past” (Bao, 2013: 208) and we fathom sound in terms of phenomenology, memory, imagery, associations and even phantasy. As sound is tied to different experiences, the use of sonic prompts can elicit memories and involuntary memories. “Our ability to interpret the world around us crucially depends on how the brain organizes meaningful auditory information in memory” (Hendrickson, Walenski, Friend, Love, 2017: 2). This could strongly suggest that sound has potential to aid a client into and through the complex process of art therapy sessions. So, it can very much be considered to be a stimulant... Referring to good and safe practice, could it be risky for some clients to be played recorded sounds during an art therapy session? Perhaps it could be, but the acousmatic approach creates an illusion for the client, it allows the client to be connected and disconnected with the sound at the same time as the actual source of it would be unknown. Sound is also ephemeral and what could be triggered in the art therapy room when sound is played can be contained by the therapist, by being in the art therapy room and maybe even in the artwork itself. Furthermore, there seems to be a particular interest in the natural soundscape as a therapeutic resource and it being used as a calming agent (Franco, Shanahan, Fuller, 2017: 1). Of course, this is all very subjective but more research is without doubt needed here as I am a firm believer that nature can be a healer in many different ways...

The effect of sonic elicitation is multisensory as sound evokes visual, tactile and olfactory as well as auditory memories (Harris, 2015: 22) and this fits in to art therapy very well as art therapy is a whole body experience. It has been stated that multimodal sensory input can drive positive mental states such as tranquility, unlike monotony, which is a cause of stress (Franco, Shanahan, Fuller, 2017: 2). Allowing sound to play an active role in the triangular relationship (therapist-client-artwork), to prompt and be part of a therapeutic relationship seems to be a creative avenue to explore... And creativity is not just a non-threatening way to access and express memories and emotions but has the power to create a corrective experience in the brain (Perryman, Blisard & Moss, 2019: 80).

Word count: 563

References

Bao, Y. (2013) “Remembering the Invisible: Soundscape and Memory of 1989”, Journal of Chinese Cinemas, Vol 7 (3), pp. 207-224. doi: 10.1386/jcc.7.3.207_1. (peer reviewed)

Franco, Lara S. Shanahan, Danielle F. Fuller, Richard A. (2017) “A Review of the Benefits of Nature Experiences: More Than Meets the Eye”, International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, Vol 14 (8), pp. 1-29. doi: 10.3390/ijerph14080864. (peer reviewed)

Harris, A. (2015) “Eliciting Sound Memories”, The Public Historian, Vol 37 (4), pp.14-31. doi: 10.1525/tph.2015.37.4.14. (peer reviewed)

Hendrickson, K. Walenski, M. Friend, M. Love, T. (2015) “The Organization of Words and Environmental Sounds in Memory”, Neuropsychologia, Vol 69, pp. 67-76. doi:10.1016/j.neuropsychologia.2015.01.035. (peer reviewed)

Perryman, K. Blisard, P. Moss, R. (2019) “Using Creative Arts in Trauma Therapy: The Neuroscience of Healing”, Journal of Mental Health Counselling, Vol 41 (1), pp. 80-94. doi: 10.17744/mehc.41.1.07. (peer reviewed)

Taylor, S. Fernstrom, M. (2017) “Acouscenic Listening and Creative Soundwalks: Evoking memory and Narratives Through Soundscape Exploration”, Leonardo Music Journal, Vol 27 (27), pp.3-6. doi: 10.1162/LMJ_a_00999. (peer reviewed)

‘Protreptic’ (2018) - Reflections 26/10/19

Dear Blog,

I recently came across artist Despina Zaxaropoulou and her eight hour a day, three-week long performance Protreptic in Bangkok and became fascinated with the power in endurance art... I decided to watch a clip of the performance and view images taken from it without reading its short descriptive summary to have a more authentic response to it... Dressed in an almost completely transparent dressing gown, Zaxaropoulou lies silently and moves around on a wooden transporting container inviting audiences to interact with her... Her purpose was instantly and unmistakably made clear to me, it was that effective and meaningful... It pushes the artist’s physical and mental strength to the maximum, makes the power relations between artist and audience prominent and tests boundaries. She embodied herself and her inner reality into her artwork, becoming the image under the gaze and available to be physically handled by many different individuals. It was very interesting to see different reactions to Zaxaropoulou’s loss of autonomy and even though her body language seemed sorrowful... she was still objectified and touched in a sexual way by some. From a trainee art therapist point of view my immediate response was to want to create a safe space for her and hold that space for her... my mind couldn’t stop thinking about the significance of complete respect for the client’s intrapersonal meanings...

From an artist’s point of view I really admire her bravery in her performance. It made me question my own art practice and how stepping out of my comfort zone is something perhaps I should attempt more often as my artwork consists of only my own personal experiences, emotions, memories and fantasies. Although I felt very uncomfortable and bothered by the performance – Zaxaropoulou being exposed, vulnerable and receptive to many different interpersonal experiences, reminded me that “creative work has been associated with ‘a-ha’ moments of self-realization... that stimulate personal growth” (Hinz, 2017: 143). Being experiential is often about taking risks and experimenting with different environments, materials and exploring the psychodynamics. Sitting with uncomfortable feelings and being reflective as well as being reflexive is necessary for my own creative practice and development as an artist and as a trainee art therapist. These different thought processes have shifted my perception of me as an artist and have made me eager to transcend my boundaries and embrace challenge and uncertainty. They have spurred further curiosity for learning and I feel I need to honour those interests.

Word Count: 407

Reference

Hinz, L. D (2017) “The Ethics of Art Therapy: Promoting Creativity as a Force for Positive Change”, Journal of the American Art Therapy Association, Volume 34 (3), pp. 142-145. doi:10.1080/07421656.2017.1343073. (peer reviewed)

First Art Making Session in MA! - 29/10/2019

Dear Blog!

Today we finally made some art work at uni! And it was really, really, REALLY liberating. Since we started I haven’t had the chance to sit down and take my time to make art and today’s session just proved to me how long overdue it was to do so, especially being on this course...

We were told to bring wool and newspaper to today’s class last week, but we were only told today that we would each be making a person and I really enjoyed having that direction. I enjoyed working in silence in a quiet room, getting lost in the moment without any distractions as I was able to tune in with myself. Usually, I instantly get a visual response to an exercise but this time I hadn’t, so I knew I would go by my method of “what feels right” to make art. This is how I selected my materials and then let the process take its course. From the selection in front of me I ended up using only the earthy materials such as string, crinkled shredded paper, tissue paper, curly moss and stuck to earthy colours. It was interesting to me that I didn’t end up using every material I chose in the beginning, even though I tried to incorporate them, certain materials and colours didn’t feel suited.

I realised I was spending a lot of time on the legs and was feeling irritated trying to get them looking and feeling the way I wanted them to. When I became conscious of this, I started asking myself why the legs were so important to me...

I then worked on the arms, needing them to take a slightly firmer form but I still needed them flexible so I used curly moss. I wrapped the body in white tissue paper to give it a lighter, transparent feel visually. Finally, the head I felt needed “consolidating” so I sewed all around the newspaper with navy and beige string – as if I was bringing my thoughts together, sewing and securing them all in one place. Interestingly enough, I didn’t want to hide the newspaper effect and was picky only using parts of it that had no images but I only thought about how fussy I was after I had finished making my piece. At the time I only wondered why I chose those two shades of colour of string...

I instantly felt at ease with my creation and connected to the entire product. As I had some time left to reflect on it I thought about my emotional journey when making it; the time it took to get the legs looking springy and unrestricted – flexible and ready to run, made me think about how much I love freedom and spontaneity, it made me question if I am struggling with that part at the moment. The body felt as light as a feather, the arms were spread out and bendable... perhaps because I feel like I am on a new adventure. It wasn’t long before I realised that the head seemed to be the only solid and heavy part of the body... maybe because I have much to think about and organise at the moment... I felt I identified with my piece and my object became real to me, it had its own existence in the space and its positioning became an important decision. Today’s session seemed to have mirrored my invisible reality, it was enlightening and educational and even though not in a therapy session, felt the concept of the triangular relationship come alive.

Word count: 596

‘Same Bed, Different Dreams’ (2018) by Song Dong and Psychoanalytic Thinking - Reflections 02/11/19

Dear Blog!

I came across the works of Chinese artist’s Song Dong today in London’s Pace Gallery and was captivated by his art work Same Bed, Different Dreams (2018), which represents the expansion of Asian cities and their modernization that has not only changed the face of the cities but the citizens lives with it. His concept and artwork resonated with me on a metaphoric and symbolic level, and its title seemed to meet my intuitive feeling towards it quite well: that his artwork was dream related... It made me question if the title was a conscious or unconscious attempt to be ambiguous.

In Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams (cited in Strachey, 2010: 338-339) the unconscious surfaces when the censor is frail, which occurs during sleep and the repressed comes out in a dream-form... a dream is a thing that is pictorial and is capable of being represented. This to me was Dong’s unconscious sitting within the physical space – or should I say his psychical space – in concrete form.

A very large beautifully crafted, multi-coloured and polished dream-like case made out of many different windows in the centre of a pale room makes itself known. In it were household objects including crockery, pendant lights and decorative knick-knacks... objects that carry history, memory, emotion. Dong having constructed it by using rubbles from old Beijing confirmed to me that its every detail was meaningful and left me feeling that past and present were undefined here. According to Reiser (cited in Fonagy et al., 2012: 78), the manifest dream draws out past and current life issues and conflicts, in hope to resolve them. Perhaps these raw materials and objects inside are more raw than they seem… Dreams disguise impulses and substitute them with symbols – an operation accomplished by primary processes of the unconscious where the repressed return in confusing ways through visual imagery (Rocha, 2012: 20). Both, dreams and artwork have their own dimensional measurements and in Dong’s artwork, the dream could be preserved in the large dream-like case. The pendant lights dangling in it are lit up, which could suggest psychic activity. Lacan wrote that “dream is a phenomenon of psychic activity” because the unconscious is always at work and never sleeps... so perhaps this is what is being presented by Dong unconsciously (cited in Rocha, 2012: 17). Although the dream-like case is completely closed, one can still see through it, some windows are more transparent than others giving an indication that the hidden parts of the psyche are reachable through dreams. I have always been fascinated with how personal, mysterious, enchanting and unfathomable dreams are. I hope to inform my practice with psychoanalytic literature but I know that it could take me a lifetime trying to understand some of it. Even though exploring psychoanalysis feels like stepping into a whole other world, I believe it is a study that sheds light on the bigger, deeper and most complex parts of the psyche. Dong’s political artwork displays the relationship between his life and his art... And I can’t help but wonder if he was to bring this to an analytic setting, what would come up?

Word count: 510

References

Fonagy, P. Kachele, H. Leuzinger-Bohleber, M & Taylor, D. (2012) ‘The Significance of Dreams: Bridging Clinical and Extraclinical Research in Psychoanalysis’, London: Routledge.

Freud, S. & Strachey, J. (2010) ‘The Interpretation of Dreams: The Complete and Definitive Text’, New York: Basic Books.

Rocha, G. M. (2012) “The Unconscious: Ideal Worker?” International Forum of Psychoanalysis, Vol. 21 (1), pp. 17-21, doi: 10.1080/0803706X.2011.624546. (peer reviewed)

‘The Anthony Gormley Experience’ - Reflections 07/11/19

Dear Blog,

Today I finally managed to go and see Anthony Gormley’s exhibition and what an interesting one it was. I had booked my ticket last night for this morning as I wanted to go in with a fresh and clear mind to simply experience it. The focus was the body: we all have a body but the world within it, is unique every time. As I was walking around each room my responses to his different artworks were authentic and instant to what was happening in that present moment: What I was feeling, what I was thinking, what I remembered, what I imagined, what it made me question, what it made me want to do… it all came to consciousness. Seven rooms really spoke to me:

Clearing VII (2019) Approximately 8 kilometres of aluminium tube coiled against the space, restricted by the walls, ceilings and floor to bounce and expand. I felt I was in a child’s scribble and wanted to play in it – it activated a physical impulse and I felt I was part of the artwork.

Subject II (2019) A single life-size male body form made of steel bars became my complete focus and it was his posture that really captured me – he seemed sorrowful and I felt the impact of that emotion. Perhaps the heaviness of the material that he was made out of played a part in the intensity of that emotion making it more prominent that he was alone and seeming lonely in the space...

Matrix III (2019) An enormous cloud made out of steel mesh, its density increasing as you walk towards its centre and looking up at it whilst walking beneath it triggered a memory. I remembered swimming in deep water unable to see the world above it and swimming towards the surface – remembering the feelings of fear and relief that came with that experience, essentially reliving it.

Lost Horizon I (2018) Many identical male figures made out of cast iron, positioned in many different ways across the ceiling, walls and floor. Walking amongst these figures, I noticed that the male figure was Gormley. It made me think about him and his life experiences, every figure felt like it had a different story to tell about him. I became very aware of these presences in the room, I realized I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what I was feeling with each one but their presence was intense – making me think even more.

Cave (2019) A steel sculpture on an architectural scale imitates a hollow human form. Going through this hollow body I felt my visual, auditory and tactile senses heighten as it got completely dark; using my eyes to spot anything possible, my ears to hear what I could and touch to navigate myself though the darkness. At the same time I felt like I was walking into the unknown as sensations were very present but not obvious. This artwork stimulated and activated my body and mind together, and led to a combination of observations on the self, experiencing my own body as an entity – externally as well as internally.

Drawings II Exiting the Cave led to a room with more basic and natural material artworks. Gormley used his own blood to make drawings representing the interior of the human body, which I found very uncomfortable to look at making me want to turn away. I was quite surprised to have felt quite nauseous at the sight of that and it made me realise just how disturbing I found it. There was something about his blood, its varying texture in the artwork and being displayed for many years now that didn’t sit well with me at all and made me question why. Why was I affected this much?

Host (2019) Gormleys final room was kept separate by a single solid piece of stone, a room consisting of earth, water and air where water covered the whole ground. This room is the only room left uninterrupted by visitors. Still, it offered me an incredibly soothing experience by gazing at it and smelling the humidity that was produced – I was so drawn and nourished by it, I wanted to sit there. I realised this was the only room I felt so relaxed by as it made me imagine that I was looking out of a window to natural landscape, envisioning forests and being by the beach. It was the perfect note to end on as I felt safe near it... bringing to the surface my strong connection and love for natural surroundings… It also made me think about the counter-transference in therapy, the feelings a therapist feels in response to the client or the clients artwork as Gormley’s exhibition certainly did that...

This exhibition was all experiential reminding me of Hakomi Psychotherapy: based on mindfulness, Hakomi is body orientated psychotherapy accentuating somatic awareness (Rothaus, 2013: 208). The body is a powerful resource as it stores influential information and can guide us to deeper places in the psyche. It seemed as if Gormley took the role of the therapist using his artworks as experiments to evoke experiences for the visitors… gently accessing unconscious material and bringing it to conscious awareness so that it can be processed. Having gone first thing in the morning allowed me to be relaxed, and being calm helped me to be more open and receptive to new experiences when engaging with the artworks. This is a vital part of mindful self-study as it allows you to focus on body-mind connection in the here and now and “the quality of mindfulness heightens mental imagery”, which in turn could increase degree of healing (Morgan cited in Rothaus, 2013: 212). In an Art Therapy setting I could have externalized my body-mind experience, have the process and my artwork contained before safely reflecting on it… A really rich combination of approaches to consider…

Word count: 977

Reference

Rothaus, M. E. (2013) ‘Hakomi and Art Therapy’ in Rappaport, L. ‘Mindfulness and the Arts Therapies: Theory and Practice’, London & Philadelphia: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

‘Other Spaces: Vanishing Point & Our Time’, Psychosis & Realizations - Reflections 10/11/19

Dear Blog,

I have always had a very strong interest in Psychosis and having studied music even composed an electronic piece based on my understanding of an episode of Psychosis. My purpose of composing music like this was to try to interpret psychological disorders guided by my readings so that I can raise awareness on how difficult it is to be on the other side and to help me understand sufferers state on a deeper level. By doing this I felt I would be able to relate and connect better with these individuals. Vanishing Point and Our Time are exhibitions I visited that played with one’s visual perception. Both in dark rooms Vanishing Point used laser lights and projected beams of light to a vanishing point, and Our Time used smoke and a kinetic light installation that swung back and forth – both playing with reality and illusion.

Psychosis is the severe distortion or even erosion of the normal functions of perception, thinking and feeling and of the capacity to communicate (Sass cited in Killick & Schaverien, 1997:134). For me the visual nature of this exhibition resembled a hallucinatory experience placing me in the mind of a psychotic client. From a trainee art therapist point of view, this exhibition made me panic slightly at the thought of some tricky but vital questions… How could I contain a severely psychotic client? How would I approach this? Where would I begin? I took a moment to consolidate my thoughts and reverted to our core learnings so far… I have to create a safe and facilitating environment for the client, which means being resilient and being able to tolerate different behaviours, by providing safe art materials and a place where artwork could be stored, by having a regularity of sessions in that same space. With all clients and especially clients suffering with severe mental health problems, getting them to experience a level of relatedness to the art therapist through repetition is essential. According to Killick “containment can be mediated through the experience of continuity” (Killick & Schaverien, 1997: 50). And what if there is no artwork?! I remembered my tutors words: “It’s still art therapy!”.

I am also a very firm believer in body language as it is penetrative and a universal form of communication. Searle focused on the therapist’s facial expressions being fundamental for the symbiotic relationship between the psychotic client and the therapist stating that through the therapist the psychotic client can recognise their aliveness (cited in Killick & Schaverien, 1997: 219-220).

I am beginning to understand the complexities that come into play with the different clients and the importance of not being reactive to alarming thoughts but responsive – remaining patient and having faith in the process. This exhibition and the readings that followed highlighted that as a trainee art therapist I have to learn the language of each of my clients and adapt my way of working to their needs in order to get them to connect with me and engage in art making. Although I am trying to prepare myself for my upcoming placement as much as possible, I understand that I can’t know fully what to expect… The responsibility for improving the mental well-being of another and thoughts on what my counter-transference will be in the process, are thoughts that make me a little... or a bit more than a little nervous…

Word count: 552

Reference

Killick, K. & Schaverien, J. (1997) ‘Art, Psychotherapy and Psychosis’, New York: Routledge.

Charlotte Salomon’s ‘Life? Or Theatre?’, Looking at Her Paintings - Reflections 16/11/19

Dear Blog,

What an exhibition... I am so captivated by how deep and penetrating it was...

“The war raged on and I sat by the sea and saw deep into the heart of humankind”, she said and she really did (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009).

Salomon, a German Jew in Berlin lost her mother at the delicate age of 9 and grew up living in fear witnessing the heartache and devastation the Nazis spread when they came into power in 1933. Her father eventually remarried opera singer Paula Salomon-Linberg and Salomon fell madly in love with someone her step-mother worked with, Alfred Wolfson, only to be sent to stay in southern France with her maternal grandparents due to dangerous circumstances. After witnessing her grandmother hang herself, her grandfather brutally let her in on what was being kept from her all these years – that their seven family losses where suicides, including her mother’s.

“I will create a story so as not to lose my mind” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009).

Salomon created a series of autobiographical paintings attaching tracing paper, writing words and melodies, adding a narrator and introducing characters giving them a theatrical effect... I thought about why she chose to paint the way she did...

Her paintings presented her internal and external reality in a very defined and cohesive manner. She used paint, a medium that could be messy and which can be daunting when there are issues regarding control (Robbins, 1987: 109). Everything happening in her life was beyond her control but her choice to use paint, for me, was a sign of wanting that power over how her life story was illustrated – a valuable challenge of tolerating all the toxic feelings depicting her struggle through life. This left me with an incredible impression of her inner strength and her being well-balanced. Perhaps her faith in religion gave her that power... “Dear God, just let me not go mad” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009).

Her paintings shift from bright to dark colours and her writing from witty to grim as her story proceeds. They start becoming colourless and dull as she began feeling fed up with feeling fed up and she contemplated committing suicide herself. Colour communicates the felt experience and makes a visual statement about a person’s current state of being (Robbins, 1987: 107-109). Their flatness could metaphorically represent her lifeless life. But Salomon’s paintings were all of notebook size and of a repetitive style of painting completely limiting her body movement, which according to Robbins are signs of offering herself containment and of protecting herself (1987: 113).

Salomon seems to have had experienced cumulative trauma having lost her mother, being away from her father and her lover, being in the midst of war, not being able to communicate with her loved ones... Emotionally and psychologically exhausted by it all she fought to live every day. Her efforts at art therapy saved her, she confronted her harsh reality and realised that death can’t be worse than what she was she was mirroring in her images, which made her want to live... “I will live for them all” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009). Research has linked psychopathology with avoiding thoughts, emotions and memories but Salomon engaged with her process over and over again...769 times before being killed by the Nazis (Skeffington & Browne, 2014: 116).

“Keep this safe, it is my whole life” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009). Salomon’s artworks are incredibly inspirational and influential as they document honorable aspects about her and make it evident that she was her own art therapist. In an audio-visual recording at the exhibition, it was said that Salomon was an introvert. Externalizing her mental images the way she did, may have been a conscious wish to be able to communicate them to someone other than herself (Schaverien, 1992: 83-84). This was her life but I think it was her desire for it to be unreal, for it to be theatre...

I walked out of the museum feeling so moved and emotional over Salomon’s life story... her pain, her fear, her struggle. I was astonished at her outlook on life, how she relied on her creativity to regenerate strength and ignite hope in a dark hole. I felt very grounded by the way she made me think about the way I see my own life and how she made me look at it from the outside, as if that too were theatre...

Word count: 715

References

Felstiner, M. L., (2009) “Charlotte Salomon: 1917-1943", Jewish Women’s Archive. https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/salomon-charlotte – Accessed 16/11/2019 at 17:15.

Robbins, A. (1987) ‘The Artist as Therapist’, New York: Human Sciences Press.

Schaverien, J. (1992) ‘The Revealing Image: Analytical Art Psychotherapy in Theory and Practice’, London & Philadelphia: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

Skeffington, P. M. & Browne, M. (2014) “Art Therapy, Trauma and Substance Misuse: Using Imagery to Explore a Difficult Past with a Complex Client” International Journal of Art Therapy, Vol. 19 (3), pp. 114-121, doi: 10.1080/17454832.2014.910816. (peer reviewed)

‘Leonardo: Experience a Masterpiece’ (2019) - Reflections 17/11/2019

Dear Blog,

I visited the National Gallery today to see Leonardo: Experience a Masterpiece (2019). As well as being one the world's most famous painters, Da Vinci is known for having extensive knowledge in scientific subjects that fed into his artwork such as architecture, science, mathematics, engineering, anatomy, geology, astronomy, botany, palaeontology, cartography and the list goes on. This exhibition focused on Da Vinci's the Virgin of the Rocks (1508) by introducing unknown truths in four different rooms that allowed me to reacquaint myself with his famous painting ultimately making me see it in a new light.

Entering the Mind of Leonardo as he begins his journey of creating the Virgin of the Rocks, his thoughts are text written backwards and reflected on mirror surfaces so that they could be read easier. "He who is only good at painting figures seems to be a poor master" (cited at the exhibition). I wondered how he meant this.. I wondered how he meant "figures"… Could he have been insinuating that one can only master figures if his soul invests in it? Was he insinuating that a true artist should master how to depict elements of divinity in his figures? His connection to religion perhaps? An unclear yet powerful statement, where I felt he meant both... This mirror effect was done against a backdrop of the Italian Alps and it stated at the exhibition that many of Da Vinci’s geological sketches and observations were situated there so he must have felt something special about this location. According to Andric he was constantly striving for the heights, which could reflect his desire to elevate the spirit (2016: 7). This led me to think that he wanted viewers to experience the search for meaning in what is around us, to search for mystery that exists in the world and is to be sought and to acknowledge that we are part of this mystical and miraculous creation. According to Gal (cited in Vladislav, 2004: 53) searching is a method by which we implement and connect with faith, and is kin to art.

With this in mind I left that room to move on to the next looking for the bigger picture and tuning in with what was around me - a circular hall that connected all rooms in the shape of a cross. This reinforced the feeling that his own spirituality played a bigger part in this painting than I had thought...

The Studio. "The figure that does not sufficiently express with action the passions of its soul is not worthy of praise" (cited at the exhibition). Da Vinci refers to the "figure" again and its "soul". This seemed to imply spiritual art, which is dependent on the artist's capacity to understand spirituality and on the experience of the knowledge of God in order to achieve "art in spirit", otherwise known as iconography. (Vladislav, 2004: 58-60). Scientific investigation that was carried out on this painting using infrared reflectography and hyperspectral imaging revealed lost content beneath the Virgin of the Rocks we know today. So if we are to think of Da Vinci as an iconographer, this piece of work would not be one of self-expression or scientific precision but rather a method and practice towards transfiguration of his nature through his experience of the revelation of the holy by which he would be able touch upon the mystery of incarnation of the Divine (Vladislav, 2004: 56-59). His first attempt can't have been definitive enough in what he was trying to portray and it seemed Da Vinci was trying to transcend his painting methods and touch elements of divinity in his work, as if he was aiming for perfection.

How he achieved that was by mastering two techniques that were introduced in the third room - The Light & Shadow Experiment. "Your tongue will be paralyzed by thirst and your body by sleep and hunger before you can show with words what the painter shows in an instant" (cited at the exhibition). Da Vinci paid great attention to Chiaroscuro and Sfumato, skillfully shading and blending in colours. Translucent layers of paint are at once seen as ethereal and the light radiating is from within the figures outward, "enlivening the action of uncreated grace” – Da Vinci not only worked towards making an instant impression that he was depicting sanctity but also that he was able to do that, he had stated that "perfect faith is perfect knowledge" (cited in Andric, 2016: 9). It is through the artist's ascending journey looking for Truth that he begins to see that "good art" is done in a more human way and "spiritual art" is reflecting what he practices within (Vladislav, 2004: 62, 65).

The Imagined Chapel. The Virgin of the Rocks was to be an altarpiece for a chapel in the church of San Francesco in Milan but the church was demolished. Only artworks that have an adequate symbol of holiness used for uniting the invisible and the visible, where the artist contemplates the image of God within his own soul mirroring his glory, are able to have a permanent place in the church – works of art that are a shared activity of the Creator and the created (Vladislav, 2004: 62-63, 66).

I feel his in-depth knowledge into the order of the world made him search for the beyond, made him search for God. That this painting wasn’t about what Da Vinci is much known for – his scientific precisions in art and science, but much much greater than that.

Going to this exhibition reminded me of our lecture on Supervision. It made me realise that total objectivity when seeing a client's artwork is quite impossible as we all have our biases. It highlighted the importance of having a supervisor to see what I can't or to put me in different thought processes. Even though it takes some pressure off knowing that I am able to share clients artwork with another, it also made me feel that much more responsible to be open to seeing that there is more than just one way of viewing artwork and that it is important to try to look for those different ways and those details on my own before relying on supervision. Every different way of viewing artwork could lead to a real depth of one’s psyche just as the way I viewed Da Vinci’s Virgin of the Rocks. Moreover, my experience and reflection on this exhibition directed me into thinking about spirituality and religion in art therapy as it often is a big part of who we are and it can be a big part of our everyday life and lifestyle, which is an extremely interesting area to explore. It also made me think about art therapy in palliative care as end of life gives rise to the feeling of spirituality whether one has a faith or is agnostic or atheist. However, palliative care is an area I’m not ready to go into...

Word count: 1,134

References

Andric, N. (2016) “Religious - Philosophical Aspects of the Novel ‘The Romance of Leonardo Da Vinci’ by Dmitrij Merezkovskij”, Russian Literature, Vol. 86, pp.1-20, doi: 10.1016/j.ruslit.2016.11.001. (peer reviewed)

Vladislav, A. (2004) “Art and Religion: Creativity and the Meaning of Religion of ‘Image’ from the perspective of the Orthodox Icon”, Theology Today, Vol. 61 (1), pp.53-56. (peer reviewed)

Experiential Workshops: Material Realizations - 02/12/19

Dear Blog,

We have now started our experiential workshops after having been given the foundations on art therapy theory and art therapy practice. I am gradually feeling teaching beginning to merge together - what feels like - "the separate pieces" of the first year of the course and I can now understand the direction in which it is going. (Now that I mention separate pieces I'm remembering my doodling on the first day of uni, how that too was separate pieces floating around in a section of my notebook page, maybe there's an emerging meaning...).

(Doodling in first lesson Sep 2019)

These workshops are familiarizing us with different art materials... Our first workshop was working with dry materials: marker pens, pencils, coal on sticks, chalk and pastels. The second workshop was working with wet materials: paint, water colour and ink, where different sized, shaped and type of paper were used in the first two workshops. The final workshop was with clay and plastecine. This was really great as it put me in a position to ask myself why I work with certain material and why I don't work with other, why I like some and why not other. It made me wonder to what extent is the use of certain material subjective and to what objective? Being restricted to a group of materials each time, allowed me to explore the intrinsic properties and to reacquaint myself with those I seldom choose when art making, but in this blog I will discuss material experiences that stood out for me.

I was instantly drawn to certain material: coal as I associate it with historical times and keeping warm in the cold, the mysterious effect chalk can have when it is smudged and its sharp dusty lines when it isn’t, ink reminds me of sentimental writers and poets of a previous era such as William Shakespeare, Edgar Alan Poe, William Blake and Ralph Waldo Emerson that I love to read, clay being 3D really brings emotions and thoughts to life in an organic way and requires a lot of physical handling that arouses the senses. I became aware that there were symbolic and metaphorical meanings behind the use of these materials that I identified with and this was confirmed to me during the art making and also in the way I used the material. As we were only allowed to use coal tied to a natural tree branch from a distance, I believe drawing a tree with it was from an unconscious driven force related to that. This generated further questions... What if coal wasn’t attached to a tree branch or natural object? What if it was attached to something else or not attached at all? How would this affect my art making instincts and decisions? Knowing how much I love nature, would I have felt disconnected to the art making process and art product if the medium in between wasn’t natural? Is this what it could feel like for a client with a disability?... Although I like using water colour with brush effects and layering different colours, I really struggled to use anything more than a single colour to do this as I found that the size and shape of the paper really influenced my working with this material. In a similar manner with regards to paint, although I tend to mix different colours to get blends as well as create thicker and looser blends, the workshop only had certain colours available that I couldn’t make use of in a satisfying way so having a limitation in colours became very frustrating... Why are certain blends so important to me?

(From left to right: paint, paint, ink, water colour)

(Coal)

Pencils and marker pens have never been a preferred medium for me even having rubbers provided in the workshop I found pencils were too definitive needing a lot of control to create something representative of me and marker pens rather aggressive and unforgiving, which in turn made me feel uncomfortable... But I questioned now if this is can be absolute as what is emerging in these workshops are the different material associations and the different experiences of their materiality in the structured workshops. It was intriguing to me that I actually ended up reacquainting myself with most of the materials through the different processes and my usual ways of creating art with certain material often changed. This stirred new emotions and I thought about how these processes made me feel... Ultimately, the material processes became unpredictable. At the beginning of this blog I wrote about the workshops familiarizing us with different art materials but I think it is wise to add, that they are familiarizing us with different art materials through different personal interactions. As an artist I am so use to having a variety of materials to choose from with no limitations where having directive workshops urged me to consider art making in another way as they tapped into something specific within me, perhaps contacting other areas of my psyche that I knew not about but thought I had, that are completely unconscious...

(From left to right: chalk, pencil, marker pen)

(Clay container)

Most importantly, these workshops have now started to make me think in more complex ways when considering clients and different settings... What are certain client groups in need of and how could I meet their needs? What could be helpful and what could be harming?...

Word count: 900

1 note · View note

dndeviants · 5 years

Text

Vasili’s Townhouse

Linda pulled out the journal and began reading it... trusting Ruki to guide them to the right address. Her heart pounded as she walked, reading through Strahd’s perspective of rulership of Barovia...

While she expected to read the depraved thoughts of a devious and evil man, what she found was more unsettling...

He was like her.

She read as he described the aftermath of war, the tiredness... resigning to duty... trying to return to a normal life... Boredom...

A brother? Sergei... happiness... Family...

What happened? She read and read... A girl, Tatayana...Sergei’s beloved... he loved her. Jealousy... delving into magic... Her heart ached with pity as she read his descent into obsession... Death...

Murder. He murdered his friend, Alek, hardly even thinking... Murder of his brother... Tatayana would be his... She leapt to her death. Then betrayal...

Leo Dilisnya. She flipped through and read about his attack on the wedding guests... So it turned out that Strahd did not murder them after all... Leo escaped. Years passed, Strahd returned to his duty- then Lovina Wachter told him where Leo was... she paused at a passage:

She took both sheets of parchment and read the introduction right through. As the head of an important house, she would know my writing well enough by now from past documents. This one told her that I was Lord Vasili Von Holtz (I had combined the given name of my great-grandfather with that of his wife's maiden name) and that she was to consider my voice the voice of Strahd in all matters and render me every reasonable assistance for my errand. The bottom of the sheet was properly stamped, and it carried a wax seal impressed with the Von Zarovich coat of arms. She studied it all at length, making me glad I had prepared things so fully.

Her heart pounded as she read, and re-read... Vasili... Vasili is Strahd! She felt a small fury... mostly at herself. So that is what Rictavio meant. She beat herself up... How could she? No, how dare he make her care about him that way! How dare he lie to her...

Why did she still care? She shook her head and forced herself to calm. She’d get to the bottom of this better with a level head.

She looked to her companions, thinking. She couldn’t trust the native Barovians... Strahd was masquerading as Vasili for a reason, and she didn’t want to risk angering the vampire by revealing the truth... better to have some kind of leverage over him... Ruki surely knew already, and she didn’t want to alert her to her discovery.

The other outsiders... She looked over to Aric and Jeeves, and tried something on a hunch... They seemed the type to be heavily involved with criminals and criminal activities, despite Aric’s noble heritage. She too was well versed in the ways of the underworld, and spoke the coded language of rogues and rapscallions:

Thieves Cant.

She walked over to the boys, "Do you guys know what I'm saying? I am not sure if you know Thieves Cant."

Aric startled and nodded, replying in the same, "Of course, we wouldn't be very good at what we do if we didn't know, now would we?"

Jeeves inclined his head, "What's the troubling news? We have a bit of our own..."

"I have another of those journal fragments...” she looked to Ruki and back to them, “Vasili is not who he says he is."

Ruki paused, tilting her head back to listen to them. It was Common, it seemed... but it was filled with so much slang, jargon, and gibberish that she could hardly understand. She shook her head and focused on making sure the rest of the group didn’t get themselves lost.

Aric looked to Linda and nodded, grimly, "I've had my suspicions for a while, but he has had solid answers to my concerns, until just now at least,” Aric lowered his voice, “We caught Ruki and Vasili speaking in Infernal."

Linda raised her brow, "Oh, what was it about?

“A curse placed on a woman,” Aric replied, “And apparently, The Holy Symbol of Ravenkind belonged to Vasili's brother.”

"That's interesting,” Linda replied sarcastically, bitterness creeping into her voice, “considering that he is actually Strahd."

"As in the ruler of this place?” Aric allowed himself a moment of disbelief before nodding, “I did find it strange that 'Vasili' traveled around and tended to the business of Strahd. I guess my suspicions were correct."

Jeeves folded his arms, "Yeah, it was suspicious that he gave him permission to do as he pleased and gave him a writ."

Aric decided that he trusted Linda, "I wanted to know more about the pendant, so I stole it from Ruki and was planning on confronting them anyway, I vote we do it together."

“Sounds good,“ Linda replied, glad that Aric was on the same page as her. She held out a hand, “Though, I suggest pulling them away from the others. Don’t want to cause too much of a scene.”

They wound the corner and walked straight north... It was a quieter part of town. It didn’t seem like most of the buildings here were inhabited. Ruki turned to her companions:

“We will be approaching the manor soon.“

Ruki led them to the manor and looked up at the house. The two story manor had a good view of Lake Zarovich. She nodded to herself fondly. She remembered working on this house when she was a child... It was humble, but well equipped to deal with any threat, and was a favorite hideout of Strahd’s whenever Vasili had any business that needed to be attended to. It wasn’t as grand as the castle, nor as extravagant... but it was a central location for both her vampire friends and Vistani relatives.

It didn’t seem that much changed about the house... save for that Mina’s trips to maintain the house were less frequent than usual. She shook her head at the sad, wilted tulips.

Linda looked to the house... The windows were covered by red-painted shutters, the house itself was that of a gray white. It seemed modest enough, but the location was telling to her: far away from the crowds, and with quick access to the lake, it seemed like a perfect place for a country retreat...

Or a convenient murder. She put her hand on her revolver for comfort.

Aric glanced at the house. Vasili- or Strahd- has good taste. Shame about the tulips...

Linda walked to the front door... she heard movement on the other side. She knocked. There was a pause, but then Vasili came to the door.

Vasili looked over everyone and smiled with closed lips, "Ah, you made it. Please, by all means, come in..."

He bowed to them and stepped to the side, gesturing for them to come in.

Linda hesitated, and peered around him... She heard the sound of kitchen tools, saw a broom sweeping the floors on its own-

And a large wolf walking down the hall toward them.

Aric saw the wolf in the house and immediately jumped back, nearly knocking Jeeves down. Jeeves stumbled and caught Aric in his arms.

“OOF! Um... my Pasha?“ Jeeves inquired of Aric’s skittish behavior.

“Harald!“ Ruki called out in happy recognition of her favorite pet, “How are you, boy?“

The wolf bounded up to Ruki, wagging its tail.

Linda gestured down to it, “Why do you have a wolf?”

Vasili- or Strahd- seemed genuinely surprised at the question. He laughed, “A wolf? There are no wolves here. This is my dog, Harald.”

Suddenly, everyone gathered was unsure of the dog being a wolf... It looked surprisingly like a wolf, and still did.

Linda blinked, and removed her hand from her revolver, “That’s just a really big dog, then.”

Jeeves nodded, “It must be one of those husky dogs I have heard about...”

Aric slowly lowered himself, “Sorry Jeeves, he just surprised me.”

“You may pet him if you wish,“ Vasili granted them permission.

Linda, always an animal lover, reached down and pet the beast, “Hello, Harald.”

Harald wagged his tail at the attention. Vasili took Harald away from the door.

“Come on boy, let them in...“ He moved to the side, “Warm yourselves by the fire."

Linda ventured in first, followed by Ireena and Ismark, Victor not too long after. Ruki went in as well. Aric and Jeeves lingered in the back, but ultimately came in as well. Vasili locked the door behind them.

The Barovians went immediately to warm themselves by the fire, but the outsiders lingered in the hall with Vasili.

"Thank you for having us Vasili,” Aric said, “I hope we won't be too much trouble."

Vasili shook his head, "Not at all. My home is your home."

Aric peered around Vasili and saw a young woman hard a work, cooking in the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t actually expecting anyone else to be there...

Linda turned to Aric, speaking in the Cant, "Should we talk to him now? In another room maybe?"

Aric nodded, "I think that would be best, there is someone in the kitchen and I wasn't expecting someone here besides him."

They silently nodded to each other, and turned to face Vasili. Vasili quirked his head at the odd slang.

Aric stepped forth, “Lord... Holtz,” he ventured, “Linda, Jeeves, and I were wondering if there is someplace private that we may talk with you and Ruki. I have some concerns over my current state, and seeing as you two know this place better than we do, I was hoping for some advice. Linda also has some concerns to run by you.”

Vasili paused, then nodded thoughtfully, "My study is right here. Would that be sufficient?" Vasili indicated a door in the hallway, away from the main living space.

"That will be perfect," Aric replied.

Vasili unlocked the study door. The small space was crammed with bookcases and different tomes of study. Everything was organized and in order. A little writing desk sat in the middle of the room with a chair on one side. A window looked to the outside from behind the desk. The night was pitch black.

Ruki stepped in and stood by the desk. Jeeves leaned against a side wall.

Vasili closed the door behind them, “What questions do you have?”

Aric looked to Linda.

Linda stepped to Vasili, "You have some kind of spell so that no one overhears us?”

Vasili quirked a brow, but responded, “Certainly. Do you wish for me to cast it?”

“Yes, please, Vasili.“ Linda held her eyes level with his.

Vasili opened the door and put a finger to his lips, muttering a small spell. When he was done, he turned around and walked past the desk, leaning on the wall near the window, “It is done...” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Aric turned to Linda, "Do you want to go first about his identity, or me about what we overheard?"

Linda faced Vasili and put her hands on her hips. She replied to Aric, "What you overheard."

Aric nodded and faced Vasili, "I guess I'll be honest now, since that is what we are going to ask of you...” he paused to clarify, “We asked you here away from everyone else because we have some concerns about you and Ruki. Earlier, Jeeves and I overheard you and Ruki discussing a curse on a woman named Tatayana, the Ba'al Verzi, and the fact that this pendant...”

Aric reached into his pack and pulled out the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, flashing it in front of the man, “This pendant belonged to your brother..."

Vasili’s eyes widened, and he flinched almost instinctively. It seemed to take every bit of effort to stand his ground. He snarled and hissed, "Put... that... damn... thing... away!"

That confirmed it. Linda put one hand on her revolver and another out in front of her, in a stopping motion. She held her eyes evenly with Strahd, and did her best to keep her voice calm, "We just want to chat, with the Lord of this place."

The man who called himself Vasili, that she now knew to be Strahd glared at her... his eyes glowing red. He seemed to calculate and weigh his options.

Aric was surprised and confused by the man’s response. He turned to Linda for guidance, holding the symbol still. Linda nodded to Aric, not breaking eye contact with the creature before her. Aric slowly put the symbol away.

Strahd seemed to calm and regain his composure.

“That is a powerful holy artifact!” Ruki was infuriated, “How dare you take that from my care?!”

Ruki pulled out her staff in anger, but Strahd stepped forward and held out a hand in front of her, reminding her of her place. She lowered her staff and took a small step back.

Strahd silently looked over them, his voice becoming a soft purr, "Very well. I will admit, that you found me out rather quickly with the aid of my journals...” he bit back the venom that slipped into his voice, resuming his civil demeanor, “I appreciate the consideration in not outing me to the people there. So, let me formally reintroduce myself...”

Strahd stood tall and put his hand over his heart, “I am Strahd von Zarovich, Lord of Barovia. Now..." He glanced over to Aric, "You wanted to know about the artifact, the Ba'al Verzi, and Tatayana?"

Aric met his gaze evenly. He wouldn’t be fazed by the murderous intent in Strahd’s eye. He wanted answers...

“My lord,” Ruki protested, “they are mere outsiders!”

Strahd’s mind touched Ruki’s, "That I understand. It infuriates me so that they had access to my journals... but regardless, I need them. If they betray me or run out of usefulness... we can deal with it then."

"We are outsiders who are trying to help and don't appreciate being lied to!" An edge crept into Linda’s voice. She forced herself to calm down, as she stared at the man who had lied to her- and probably manipulated her. Yelling or getting frustrated wouldn’t help. As dangerous as Strahd probably was, it would only succeed in getting them killed if she couldn’t control her anger.

“Yes we would,” Aric replied to Strahd. “You have kept your true identity from us, and now these things as well. We wish to get home...” Aric paused, “But I, at least, am more than willing to help you, and the citizens of Barovia,” he looked to Strahd, earnestly, “But we need to know that we can trust you.”

Strahd remained silent. Ruki folded her arms. She knew that they would have to demonstrate that themselves.

“How do you prove your willingness, then?“ Ruki demanded.

Linda was silent. She took her hand off her revolver and removed the weapons belt around her waist. She removed her monster hunting kit off of her back and tossed both of them into the middle of the room. She held up her hands, “There. I’ve taken off my weapons. Your journal is in that bag. Do what you will with that.”

Aric crossed his arms, “I admit we are strangers to you and to this place, but you are the ones who have proven yourselves untrustworthy...” he held up his hand, and indicated the Battleblade Ring, “But, I do believe that my use of this ring to prevent the burgomaster’s escape is proof enough of our intent. We just want to help you, and go home.”

Strahd examined the strangers before him, and wrapped his cloak around him. His face was expressionless, but a sad, tired tone betrayed his feelings in his voice.

"Very well,” he relented, “I will speak of what I know. You already have access to my journals, and my most private thoughts to the events in my life...” He looked over to Linda, “I have not lied to you. Though, admittedly, I may have omitted some information.... "

Linda frowned at the man. Strahd met her gaze briefly, then averted it.

Strahd fixed his gaze on Aric, and sighed, "First... The Ba'al Verzi... an ancient group of assassins, a guild of evil intent. Murderers...” He made a gesture, “I was their target once, long ago, when I became the ruler of this land. What made them so different from other assassin guilds however... was their cultist ways...”

Strahd listed, “They had to kill someone they loved to make a sheathe from the flesh, and used magic to pursue their targets... sometimes that magic was necromantic. The old Ba'al Verzi had undead to serve them. Ghosts, specters... things of that nature. Their signature weapon was a long dagger, with a hilt of gold, red, and black. All of their artifacts were marked similarly so... It seems that their guild has not died after all, and that I am still a target."

Linda blinked at the information, processing. She turned to Ruki, "Wait, so that mirror that you destroyed in the Burgomaster's house was a Ba'al Verzi artifact, Ruki?"

Strahd looked to Ruki, questioningly. He wasn’t aware of any Ba’al Verzi artifact in the Vallakovich mansion- but then again, that mansion didn’t always belong to them. “Well... then certain things begin to make sense...” he grew lost in his thoughts.

Ruki nodded to Linda, “Indeed...” she withdrew her trophies, all Ba’al Verzi daggers, “This is the dagger I confiscated from the coffin shop, and this is on old dagger that lost its magic.”

Strahd glanced at the daggers and returned to the conversation, "Indeed. True Ba'al Verzi will always have them upon their person. Henrik seems to have been a high ranking member... he also had this..."

Strahd held up Henrik’s cane, "I did some magical investigation, and this is a Rod of Golem Control. With it, he could have manipulated the golems to do certain things and exceed their own boundaries... fortunately, he perished before he got the chance to use it."

Strahd set down the cane on the study table and paused...

"Next issue... Tatayana...."

Strahd pulled his cloak back around him and gripped it a little more tightly than he had before. He spoke softly, "She was the only woman I ever loved. But... she did not love me. She loved my brother, Sergei.”

“I was overcome with jealousy... and tried to turn to magical study to turn her affections to me. It seemed... unfair that I had to give up everything- my childhood, my youth, my life... in order to survive and to meet my father’s expectations. But Sergei had to make no such sacrifices.”

An edge crept into his voice, “Everything he had was given to him... and it made me bitter. He didn't have to earn my father's pride, or love... It seemed unfair,” he repeated, “that he could naturally have anything he wanted, where I had to fight just to survive! I wanted Tatayana for my own.”

He grew quiet again, “It seems so naive and foolish now... to think that someone so innocent and pure could ever come to love someone- something- like me..."

Strahd turned away from them and walked to the window, staring out into the bleak night, "I began to blame my age, my lack of faith in humanity... and my approaching death for her disinterest in me. I... was dying. I knew the feeling... I felt it every time we fought.”

He paused, “Do you know how it is to feel Death at your back every day you wake? Every night you sleep? I did not fear death, mind you. I feared dying before I ever had the chance to live. Tatayana was the only one who made me feel... like I meant something. Who saw the goodness in me...”

Strahd looked back at them coldly, “I proved her wrong."

He turned to face them fully, "Death himself approached me the night before my brother's wedding. Offering me a chance to take what had been denied me. Coaxing me, threatening me... I debated doing anything. But... unhappy circumstances...”

“My only friend, Alek had been spying on me, trying to warn me... warn me of an attack, but all I saw was a possible betrayal. Instinctively we fought, and we mortally wounded each other. But I emerged victorious... at what cost?"

Strahd looked back to the window, "I murdered my best friend of over three decades. If I was capable of such an atrocity... surely a brother I hardly knew would be no different. But... I was lied to. I did not get what I wanted. I murdered them... for nothing. Tatayana fled from me... and killed herself.”

“I died too, that night. Truly died...” he huffed a small laugh, “Betrayed and murdered by the Ba'al Verzi. But it appears that my stubbornness triumphs even over death. I avenged myself... and was cursed to watch Tatayana live and die over and over and over again..."

Strahd put a hand over his chest, letting his cloak fall from his hands. He pat over his heart, "This... is numb now. I feel hardly anything in regards to it. I don't even care if she loves me anymore. I just want to stop watching her die so cruelly...”

“Ireena..." he murmured. Strahd faced the party, "She is Tatayana reborn."

Linda nodded, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking together. "That's why you bit her," she stated.

"Yes,” Strahd answered. “It may have been misguided, but I was trying to save her, in the only way I know how...” he held out his hands, pain in his voice, “I meant her no harm. I was tricked... and she was used...”

He raised a finger, “But I kept my word! I have not bitten her, and I will not make any more such advances...” he paused, “...not until I figure out what is going on here.”

He shrugged, “Truthfully... there are many things that I am just as confused about as you are."

Linda folded her arms, accepting his answer, “Alright.”

Strahd looked to Aric, "I suppose this brings us to the Artifact..."

Aric nodded attentively.

"Sergei...” Strahd sighed, “was the youngest of us all. My homelands had a tradition where the eldest was a war child. The middle was the estate child, and the third and after... were clergymen.”

He made a bleak gesture,”Sturm and I each performed our duties... and Sergei was meant to take over the place of the Most High Priest... solidify the von Zarovich control over our Homelands and territories... each of us controlling portions of our culture's way of life. Sergei was entrusted with the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, the pendant of the High Priest."

Strahd shook his head, "He should have stayed with tradition. He would have never met her, I would have never met her... none of...this... would have happened if he just... did what he was supposed to.” He all but snarled, “But no, apparently Father never wanted him to follow the priest path."

Strahd forced the bitterness from his voice, and shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, "In any case... it is a tool to banish creatures of the night. Destroy them. Creatures like me. The very sight of it... pains me in ways you can't even imagine... I have come up with a few ways to stave off the effects of holy auras... but nothing compares to the strength of that pendant."

Linda raised a brow. She didn’t think that vampires could work around holy auras.

Strahd noticed her response and huffed, "You let me ramble..."

Ruki humphed and folded her arms.

Linda smirked, “Of course,” she leaned against a bookshelf, "Though, I knew some of that from reading your journals. It's good to have the blanks filled in. Thank you for telling us. This was all very insightful. Aric do you have anything else to ask Strahd?"

Linda looked over to Aric.

Aric shook his head no.

Ruki glared, “If you knew, then why this underhanded interrogation?”

Linda looked to her evenly, "As I said, I knew some of it. Not all."

Strahd looked over Aric, Linda, and Jeeves, measuring their reaction. He expected anger, fear, accusation... He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was too much of a headache.

"I'm...” Strahd paused, and rethought his phrasing, “I extend my apologies to you for the deception for my true identity...” he let go of his face and looked to them, tiredly, “Please, understand that it is a danger for both me and Ruki if the general populace knew that Vasili von Holtz is not the man they think he is. The fear of my name is so... deep set in the culture. I don't know if I will ever recover."

Linda looked over to Strahd. She had been upset at his deception before, but she understood the reasons why. She couldn’t hold on to her anger, and sighed, "Even though I don't like it, I understand why you did it."

Aric clasped his hands respectfully, "Thank you for telling us all of this, I understand that it can be hard to trust those around you, especially when they are effectively strangers...” he looked over to Linda, then back to Strahd, “I guess it is only fair to say if there is anything more you want to know about us, now is the time to ask.”

“How about their boring life stories?” Ruki barely muttered.

Strahd smiled slyly and steepled his fingers.

Aric’s heart lurched, Oh dear, I didn’t actually think he was going to take me up on that.

"I want to know more about this business with rings...” Strahd tilted his head, “I sensed objects of great power entering my realm, and a mage... You bear one of those items... I want to know more about them, and this... mage."

Jeeves and Aric exchanged glances. Aric shrugged. There was no point in hiding what they were after.

Ruki turned to Aric, “And I want to know more about your servant.”

Jeeves turned to Ruki, “What about me? I'm simply a butler. Well, a mameluk technically," he pointed to Aric, "And this is my Pasha."

Ruki wasn’t buying it, “You seem to have a myriad of knowledge on many topics for a mere butler. Particularly, poisons.”

Jeeves shrugged innocently, "Well, keeping my master safe from assassins happens to be a hobby of mine...” He held out his hand, "Most of the time my job is repairing clothes that he damages either by fighting or with one of his... bouts. You see, he can have a volatile temper, and can flare up at times."

Aric flared up, “I do not have a 'volatile temper,' I just feel my aggression very strongly!"

"Of course, my lord. I apologize for my mistake," Jeeves batted off a little steam that was flaring from Aric’s shoulders.

Aric muttered about being a fire genasi to himself before turning back to Strahd, who was staring at him, waiting.

"Anyway, I am effectively the crown prince of my people,” he made a dismissive gesture, “I won't bore you with the exact details of how our social and political systems work, but I believe my cousin is working with people who wish to overthrow my father's reign. While this would be difficult to do normally there are many magical items that can help, like the Qysari rings.”

Strahd blinked and tilted his head, "So these rings are part of a set?"

Aric nodded, "Yes, there are twelve in total, at least the legends say... They were crafted by various rulers of my land for the purpose of maintaining- or overthrowing- someone’s rule. It has been a long time since all twelve were possessed by a single person,” Aric looked to Strahd, “and I want that person to be me."

Strahd looked into Aric’s eyes, and laughed, but not mockingly. "Admirable,” he purred, “I like your ambition. Now, tell me about this mage."

"You must mean my cousin, Mehmet...” Aric paused and thought, “Honestly I don't know as much as I would like. Until now, I never saw him as a threat. He's a bit of an outcast of the family, but he never seemed to have the stomach for anything dark or sinister. That’s what kept him from being afforded any power, he would have been killed almost immediately for it...”

Aric folded his arms, “At least that is what I thought. I believe he has joined up with a rival family and that's how he ended up with the rings. That is the only explanation I can come up with, he certainly didn't track all of them down himself."

Strahd pondered the information, "Thank you. In any case, I regard any mage that enters my realm as a possible threat. So I will aid you with your quest. If these are items of power, I would prefer a non magic user have them. I have no interest in them myself...."

Strahd looked over to Linda, then glanced at her weapons on the floor. He approached them and knelt next to her belt and pack. He lifted up her speedloaders, "These seem a little too specialized for a dabbler to be carrying about... silver ammunition?"

He turned to her pack and opened it. He raised a brow at the contents and tisked, "A stake, holy water... my, my..."

Linda crossed her arms across her chest, "It's a standard kit."

Strahd raised his brow at her, "For monster hunters?"

She sighed. So much for keeping that a secret from the vampire, "Yes,” she admitted. She uncrossed her arms, "I'm more of a bounty hunter, but I specialize in beasts and monsters."

Linda leaned back against the wall, "Go ahead, look through everything if you want. The stuff in there isn't meant for you."

Strahd hesitated, then smirked at her, "I'm now curious in what a kit designed to put me down would look like..."

Strahd looked through a little more of the kit. Linda called out to him, "You should be careful though, there is silver in there."

Strahd waved off her concern and stood up, walking away from her weapons, "I can touch silver. I just can't allow it to pierce my flesh.” He frowned, “But perhaps that is too much information for you... Or others..."

Strahd looked over them. He folded his cloak around him, "All I ask is to keep my true name a secret. If there is any of the same you want to ask of me, then say what secrets we are keeping. Or keep them for yourselves. I care not."

Linda walked over to her weapons and started to put her belt back on, stating, "We all have our secrets. I'm not going to pry for any more."

She secured everything to her person and walked back to her place near the bookshelf.

Strahd nodded, appreciative of Linda’s sentiment. He paused, "If there is anything pertinent, I will share.” He chuckled, “But we simply don't have the time for us to go over four hundred years worth of my secrets. You know the most pertinent of them. Anything else...” He grew serious, “ I'm not deliberately keeping from you. It's just... not important right now. Is that clear?"

Linda nodded and crossed her arms, "One last thing, though,” she looked to Strahd, “Will you still help us with our missions here? In exchange for helping you?"

"I gave you my word, didn't I?” Strahd spoke quietly, “The name I gave it under doesn't matter. It is still my word."

Linda felt a wave of relief, "Alright. Thank you."

Strahd smiled slightly at Linda, then stood straight, “I think we should return... Mina should be nearly done cooking, by the smell of it... and the rest of my guests may be worried that they’ve not heard nor seen their host in some time...”

He gestured toward the door, “Shall we?”

They nodded in agreement and fell out of the study, the savory aroma of a hardy meal greeted them. They walked into the living room and saw that the other Barovians were none the wiser to the confrontation that just happened behind them. The woman Aric saw working the kitchen had just finished setting the small table.

The woman sighed and brushed off her apron, brushing a stray streak of blonde hair from her face, “Alright, Lord Vasili. Everything is done...” She glanced over to Ruki, “Oh, Lady Ruki... I didn’t know you were coming either.”

"Actually,” Ruki replied, “I have business to attend to at the castle. I was only here to make sure things were in order."

Ruki bowed, and left the room, relieved that things were finally righting themselves.

The woman blinked at Ruki’s odd manner, “Ah, ok... bye, then.”

Strahd resumed his Vasili mannerisms, "It is alright,” he told the woman. He looked to the party, “Everyone, this is Mina. Wilhemina Harper. She is my maid, and a part time bounty hunter."

Mina frowned petulantly, "A part-time maid, and a full-time bounty hunter!"

Vasili smiled.

Linda blinked, curious. It was clear from their manner that they knew each other well... But the remark about being a bounty hunter as well...?

“Makes two of us,“ Linda said.

Vasili turned to Linda with playful shock, "Oh? You do maid work as well?"

Linda pursed her lips, trying not to show that she found his remark funny. "I do apprentice a teenager..." she finally chuckled.

Ismark rose from his chair, "Pleasure to meet you!"

Ireena nodded, "Good to meet you, Mina."

Victor waved awkwardly.

Aric nodded, “It's a pleasure, Mina, thank you for the meal.”

"You're welcome. I hope you enjoy it, even if it was... short notice... " Mina shot a small glare at Vasili.

"Again, I do apologize. It was on a whim. I appreciate the help, and will compensate you for your trouble..." Vasili seemed embarrassed.

Mina put her hands on her hips, "Good."

Vasili pulled out a seat at the table, "Let us sit together. The day has been long and... harrowing."

Everyone gathered around the table. Vasili invited Mina to sit with them. She obliged. Linda sat across from Vasili, and Aric boldly sat next to the disguised vampire.

Mina listed her dishes, "So I have some traditional dumplings with a beef roast, a tomato and basil soup, and rutabagas and turnip greens. We have some Vistani wine, water, and tuika for you. Everyone can help themselves."

Everyone gathered began to help themselves to the food, save for Strahd, who opted to drink from a flask...

It’s blood. Linda berated herself, It’s so obvious now... why didn’t I catch it?

"Not hungry, my lord?" Mina looked over to Vasili, questioningly.

"Not particularly," he replied, "I was attacked twice today. That puts a slight damper on my appetite."

Mina snorted, "Ah, pity. That makes me hungrier. I was about to ask if you ruined your appetite by smoking."

Ireena nodded and spoke with mild disapproval, "Oh, Lord Vasili was smoking. Outside of the church."

Mina pouted at Vasili.

Jeeves uncorked a small flask, and poured a purple fluid into his food, "No one eat after me."

Aric looked over knowingly. Jeeves regularly worked on his poison immunity.

"Why?" Linda asked.

"I think you'd find my seasoning disagreeable."

Linda realized he was poisoning his own food, and left well enough alone. She turned to Strahd, "So... Vasili, why did you bring us to dinner?"

"I wanted to treat my guests...” Vasili replied, “And have some place for you to stay, where you wouldn't have to pay for lodging. And also to discuss in a more private setting what our next course of action would be. Along with... getting to know everyone a little bit better... outside of a life or death situation."

Keep us from an Inn? Probably to assess if our knowledge of him would be a threat... He knew we would find out... Linda found herself impressed by his ability to think so far ahead, "I think we may have touched on the last on that list a little already."

"So... what happens now?” Ireena questioned, “I've gotten rid of the taint of vampirism in my blood... what are all of you going to do next?"

"I still need to find Timothy,” replied Linda, “and I thought we were going to help out Urwin."

Jeeves curtly nodded, "Seeing the state of the Wizard of the Wines is in our best interests."

Vasili set aside his flask, "I have agreed to not further any of Lord Strahd's other interests at the moment... a 'vacation', was it? I have decided to aid these strangers with their own ends. So, we will be on the way to Krezk."

Victor looked to Vasili, "Krezk? I think I heard that there is some strange magical happenings over there. I think I would like to investigate... and... just get a little further away from Vallaki..."

Ireena looked to everyone and thought to herself for a moment.

"I think... I will have to decline...” She sighed, “I feel like I am a bit of a handicap to everyone here... I've been kidnapped and nearly died twice. I think Ismark and I should return to Barovia Village, check in on Papa, and get back to our responsibilities."

Ismark seemed relieved, "While I would love to see more of Barovia, Ireena is right. I can't leave her alone while there are dark things after her."

"Ah, is this another reason why you called me to help? Is there someone that needs to be tracked down?" Mina looked to Vasili.

Vasili nodded, "Yes, there is a kidnapped teenager we are looking for. Timothy, I believe the boy is called. There are other cases of missing children I have been looking into. Your help would be much appreciated. But it is up to you."

"I'll help,” she raised a brow, “But I will be charging the usual."

Vasili nodded, "Of course..."

Ireena folded her hands, "Alright. So I suppose we will head back in the morning..."

Linda looked to Mina, overwhelmed by curiosity. "Mina, how did you come to know Vasili?" she asked.

Mina seemed surprised that Linda took interest, "Oh. Well I've known him basically all my life. He rescued me when my village was slaughtered by bandits. I was only nine at the time... But bandits had taken over my village and beheaded our burgomaster... then when they got bored, they burned our village to the ground. I... was the only survivor. My mother threw me into the well when they started slaughtering everyone..."

She shook her head, "I don't remember how long I waited. But Lord Vasili came to our village, and rescued me from the well. I don't remember much of it, because I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was raining, and the fire was gone. I told him what happened, and he put me in his carriage, and sent me to Vallaki. He told me to tell the people at the Inn that Lord Vasili demanded I be taken care of. So I stayed there. I told everyone what happened, and they were worried that he was going to be killed by bandits."

She nodded, "But he came back. Helped me get adopted. By the old owners of the inn. The Von Dran Family. I lived with them, and knew them to be my family too. I learned how to track and hunt from them. But one day, Papa Dran... didn't come back from the hunt. I went out and saw that he had been murdered by bandits when he was out hunting. I took up arms to find his killers, and ran into Lord Holtz again."

Vasili folded his hands over his lap, "I was also tracking down the same group of bandits. When we ran into each other, I welcomed the assistance."

Mina scoffed, "You told me to not get in your way."

Vasili corrected her, "I told you that if you were to join me, you couldn't hesitate at the critical moment."

Mina was defiant, "I didn't hesitate, did I?"

"No, you didn't.” Vasili smirked, “I was impressed. Which is why I offered you employment."

Mina was indignant, "As a maid!"

Vasili chuckled, "As a bounty hunter, and a maid. Did you refuse?"

Mina grumbled, "I needed a job."

Jeeves mused, "A maid and a bounty hunter? Those are two wildly different occupations."

"Not really. Both clean up other people's messes..." Linda looked to Vasili.

Vasili laughed, "Finally, I've waited years for someone to get the joke."

No one else at the table seemed to get that humor.

Linda was the exception, she found herself laughing with him, "You have to admit, that is one good joke."

Aric mused and looked at Jeeves, “I never looked at it that way but I guess it is true.”

Jeeves thought about it, "Oh no, that is my entire job..." he held his hands to his head, "I'm a maid...A maid who also kills people who try to harm my master and break laws. And who eats poison."

Victor pat Jeeves on the back in sympathy, "And I'm a wizard that was living in an attic for years. Reanimating cat skeletons."

Ireena tried to be encouraging, "If you think about it, Lord Vasili is also like a maid. He's cleaning up after Lord Strahd's failings."

Linda burst out laughing... Oh, it was so funny to see the look on Strahd’s face as he tried to be civil and disguise his hurt at the same time... the irony...

"I'm... trying my best..." Vasili choked out.

Ismark shrugged, sipping tuika, "I mean, there isn't much you can do."

Vasili frowned at Ismark, "I don't think it's... hopeless.Where is your sense of pride and optimism?"

“At the bottom of this cup," Ismark took a swig of the plum brandy.

Victor adjusted his glasses, "Well, I don't think I have any pride or optimism, so that makes it easy."

Linda didn’t buy it, "What about your cat, Mr. Whiskers? Aren't you proud that you reanimated him?"

Victor looked to her, "I was more relieved, actually. I didn't want to go through trying to raise another cat and go through the same pain all over again. So reanimating Mr. Whiskers was a relief."

Victor pet the cat. Mr. Whiskers purred with an unearthly echo.

Mina raised a brow, "I thought it was illegal for people to reanimate the dead..."

Vasili made a dismissive gesture, "I'll let it pass. The boy is hardly a threat, and the reanimated cat is not exactly worthy of an undead horde."

Victor held Mr. Whiskers close, "Oh no, not part of an undead horde at all. He's just here to help with my nerves is all."

Linda nodded, "Everyone has something that keeps them calm. And for some, that thing is dangerous. For others, it's an undead cat."

Jeeves looked to Linda, "For me, it is my short sword. I don't like being without it."

Aric put his arm around Jeeves’ shoulder, “For me its Jeeves,” he declared, “Nobody wants to get in the way of someone who eats poison.”

Jeeves grinned smugly.

Linda smirked, “See? Dangerous.”

Ireena pondered and took out a handkerchief with embroidery on the edges, "For me, it is this handkerchief. It was mom's, and even though I never met her, It still makes me think of her."

Ismark set down his drink, "I have a lucky coin. It's a counterfeit gold piece, that is actually a gold plated copper, and has two tail ends, instead of a head and tail. I keep it with me. Can't spend it, but it feels lucky."

Mina held out a bracelet with charms, "I have a charm bracelet. Each charm is from a family member. My first Morninlord symbol from my birth mother, a chest key from Mama Dran, an arrowhead from Papa Dran, and a nail from Georg Dran, my little brother."

Linda paused and pulled out a small puzzle box, "This is the hardest to solve puzzle box I have ever made. No one else has ever solved it. It holds my mother's wedding ring."

Everyone looked to Vasili expectantly. Vasili returned their stares with suspicion: "Well? Why are you looking at me?"

Linda looked to him, "You don't carry around anything that means something to you?"

Vasili looked to her and hesitated. He finally relented and reached into his component pouch and took out a small bone.

"A white raven's wishbone,” he explained, “It is supposed to be lucky, and grant a wish when broken. It's said the longer you keep it without breaking it, the more likely the wish will be granted.”

He paused, “It was a gift from my brother when I was... out fighting. I've had it for a very long time. And keep it in my pouch of spell components."

Vasili put away the small wishbone with care.

Linda noticed the gesture... Once more he wasn’t lying...

Linda nodded, "See even Vasili has something."

Ireena mused, "How interesting. I've never seen a white raven."

"Neither have I," Vasili admitted.

They enjoyed the rest of their meal and rested. Once everyone was comfortably full, Vasili rose from his chair, "Thank you, Mina, everything was wonderful. Now, my guests, let me show you the rest of the house and you can choose where you stay. I have a few guest rooms, if you would follow me..."

The party obliged him, and followed him to the guest room by the front door.

"All these guest rooms can accommodate two people per bed, but if you would like, I can provide bedrolls. There is a water table, bathtub, and vanity, and drawers for your use here... "

Vasili walked to the kitchen, "Over here is the kitchen and over here is the pantry, if you are still hungry, feel free to help yourselves."

Vasili led them upstairs, "Here is the sitting room, if we need to convene in a more comfortable space. This way..."

He unlocked a hallway with a piano and music cabinet. Linda looked wistfully to the piano.

"This is my piano room,” Vasili was brief, “Nothing much else to say. The other two bedrooms are this way."

He opened the doorway to a long hall, "At the end there is the water closet, should you need to use it. Here are the other two bedrooms."

He walked to back to the last room, which was much more spacious and had a fireplace, "This is the master bedroom. I don't care if any of you use it, my preferred place of rest is the study."

Vasili steepled his fingers and turned to face them, "So which rooms do you lay claim to?"

"Dibs on master," Linda was aching for a large bed to herself, and the fireplace would be convenient for her tinkering.

Jeeves looked to his master, "Well, my lord?"

Aric pointed to the room behind him, across from the master bedroom, “I was thinking this one.”

Jeeves nodded, "It will do."

Jeeves and Aric watched as Strahd walked into the piano room, Linda curiously lingering on the corner of the hall.

Aric closed the door to the room, and Jeeves began to scout it. Bed, dresser, mirror... window... bat?

Aric looked up at the corner above the bed, and saw a very tiny bat resting in the corner. It was hardly noticeable... but it was certainly there, watching him-

No, it was cleaning its own face.

"So... a bat..." Jeeves looked up to it and crossed his arms.

Aric knew of vampires’ affinity for bats. Not wanting to take chances, he switched to Alzhedo, "You ever get the feeling you’re being watched?"

Jeeves nodded and responded in turn, “You think this is insurance of some kind?” He tilted his head toward the bat.

Aric was cautious, "Maybe. Best to just be aware of it for now. As far as anyone knows, we speak this language when we are alone."

Jeeves nodded and crawled on the bed, "Of course,” he took off his boots, “So, impressions on this vampire fellow?"

"As much as he told us, we still don't really know him,” Aric crawled on the bed and stood, “But he does seem to want things to change. If nothing else he is our best lead to getting the rings and returning home. At best, I can say I don't distrust him..."

Aric reached out and coaxed the tiny bat into his hand. It nestled its head in his hand. Aric mused, sitting down and petting the bat with the barest touch, "You seem friendly..."

Jeeves looked to the bat and back to Aric, "He hasn't made any overt or threatening gestures. I suppose we should compile what we know, or think we know about Vampires. Worst case scenario, we use those weaknesses against him. Or best case, we tailor our knowledge so that his weaknesses don't hinder us either...” Jeeves paused, “There is also that charm we need to get from Luvash in regards to your... condition."

Aric paused in his petting of the bat, "Yes, my... condition,” he looked to Jeeves, “Luvash said it would be ready tomorrow correct?”

Jeeves nodded. Aric refocused on the previous conversation, “As for Strahd... we know that holy symbol hurt him, but he can apparently set foot in a church... those things seem to contradict each other."

Jeeves agreed, "Completely contradictory. Also... walking in daytime... How do you think that is possible?"

Aric was grim, "He may be more powerful than we realize..."

Aric thought back to everything they had observed Vasili doing... the smoking... He realized then that it was a cleverly designed spell. Vasili only smoked before stepping on holy ground, and when confronted with the holy bones of St. Andral... each time it was dismissed as being his “nerves...”

Aric did give him credit... It would have been impossible for them to discover that it was a spell without knowing that Vasili was actually Strahd in disguise... However, the issue of walking in broad daylight was even more troubling, and he had no idea how any vampire could do that... Aric came to a realization...

Whatever Strahd was, he was far more powerful than any ordinary vampire.

Jeeves brought him out of his thoughts, "Aren't vampires already powerful? How much more power are we talking?”

"A vampire that can walk in daylight must be extremely powerful,” he admitted, “We also don't know how old he really is. I don't know much else about vampires... or werewolves for that matter, I need more information before coming to any conclusions."

Jeeves nodded and thought back to the conversation with Strahd, "Perhaps we can speak with that Linda person. She is knowledgeable about monsters. Her insight may be helpful. We should use any resource we have."

"True,” Aric nodded, “We will ask her after Strahd returns to his study and we are alone."

"An excellent suggestion, Lord Aric..." Jeeves paused, looking at the bat in Aric’s hand, "Can I have a turn petting the bat?"

Aric handed the bat over to Jeeves. Jeeves pet the tiny creature, asking, "Do you think the dog down there is really a dog? It looked like a wolf... but everyone was insistent it was a dog... Vampires have affinity for wolves, right? Wolves, bats, rats, bugs... Eh, I suppose as long as there is no rats or roaches in this place I will be fine..."

--------------------------

Strahd let the guise of Vasili fall, no longer putting on the act, the masquerade of humanity. With Ireena and Ismark on the first floor, Victor resting in the living room, Aric and Jeeves in their room, and Linda in the master...

Why not indulge?

He removed the gloves from his hands and folded them into his pocket, before sitting down at the piano bench. He lifted the protective wood slat off of the keys, revealing the ebony and ivory underneath. His hands reached out to their positions...

He had no song in mind. He had no wish to perform either. Just to take a moment and create something... Just notes, a simple melody... a few harmonies...

Linda peered around the corner, watching Strahd play. She felt herself drawn to the simple chords, the somber melody... Melancholy, with a slight twinge of hope...

She felt herself twitch her fingers, greedily wanting to play as well...

Strahd finished his song, holding down the pedal and letting the final notes ring out...

Linda breathed in and walked into the piano room. Strahd paused, and turned to look at the intrusion.

Linda paused in her approach, then gently gestured to the piano, “May I?” she spoke quietly.

Strahd looked to her. He moved over on the bench to make room for her, "Of course, be my guest.” He paused and moved his cloak out of the way, “You did say that you enjoyed piano... didn't you?"

She nodded and slid into the seat next to him. She stretched her hands, and wiggled her fingers... She relaxed her hands over the keys, and rested her fingers...

Notes fell from her fingers, as she began to test her memory of how to play. It had been years since she played. Slowly, gently... like a lullaby.

Strahd listened carefully, leaning forward to watch her play. She was lost in it... as if she were letting the music guide her.

She overreached, brushing against his arm. Strahd was startled by the unexpected touch. Linda awoke from her trance and retreated her hand, flushing in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away,“ she blurted.

"It's alright. I was enjoying the music,” Strahd reassured. “I'll give you more room..." He retreated his hands into his lap.

Linda nodded, and put her hands back on the keys... She would play a song from her childhood... something she could remember.

Strahd watched her play. It wasn’t the same euphoric trance that she had earlier... her notes seemed to be missing something...

Not one to leave something incomplete, Strahd marked the pattern she played in and the key... then played chords to compliment her...

“You know the song already?” Linda questioned, still playing, “That's part of the other player's part."

"I was just playing what sounded appropriate...” Strahd paused, “I used to be a virtuoso on this instrument. Do you know the part I should be playing?"

"I do. Here.." Linda paused to teach him the pattern of the notes.

Strahd echoed her notes and dutifully played the part. Linda returned to playing the melody, smiling, "Now the piece is whole..."

Strahd and Linda played the piece to completion, letting the final notes linger in the air, both reluctant to end the small joy of playing music.

Strahd nodded to himself in satisfaction, and looked to the woman sitting at his side, "Thank you. That was enjoyable...”

A new feeling gripped him as he looked at Linda’s features. The strange look in her eyes as she held his gaze just a little too long...

He stood, “Now, I ought to let you rest. I will retire to my study. I have to make sure affairs are in order before we leave tomorrow," he bowed his head respectfully.

Linda smiled at him with closed lips and nodded her head. She stood, “I enjoyed playing as well...”

They stared at each other just a moment longer, before Strahd turned and walked slowly down the stairs... Linda watched him leave, before turning herself, and walking back toward the master...

But Jeeves looked out of his room at Linda, expectantly.

Linda raised a brow. Jeeves silently gestured for her to come to the room. She sighed and walked over to him, “Yes?”

Aric poked his head out from around the corner, speaking in the Cant, "If I remember correctly, you know Thieves Cant?"

She spoke dryly in the same, "You remember correctly."

Aric looked to Jeeves holding the bat, and back to Linda. Linda looked at the bat in confusion, before shaking her head and walking fully into the room.

"Forgive us, but we are in need of your expertise,” Aric explained, “We don't know as much about vampires and werewolves as we would like, and were hoping you might help us. Also, forgive the caution, we found this guy-” he pointed to the bat, “-and, well, in our line of work, being distrustful keeps us alive a little longer..."

Jeeves pet the bat, “He’s cute, though.”

Linda nodded, "I completely understand. What did you want to know? I have a great deal of knowledge on those creatures in particular."

Aric paused, "I guess to start with, could this guy be used to spy on us?” he pointed to the bat.

Linda nodded, "Yes, he can be used to spy on us, but it has to be consciously done. Much like a wizard's familiar.”

Aric took note, “Secondly, I figured that the 'smoking' habit is some spell that allows Strahd to walk into churches and such.. but how does he walk in daylight?"

Linda paused. Aric had a point, and it was a concerning one to her, “I'm not quite sure of the walking in daylight,” she admitted, “Vampires shouldn't be able to, though it has been shown that as vampires age they lose their aversions... though no record has been made of any that could withstand sunlight- and there are vampires that are thousands of years old.”

Linda wrinkled her face, "So either he is older than that... or has come up with another spell for it, like being able to set foot on holy ground.” She paused, “And history books say that Strahd is four hundred and twenty-eight... And is having a birthday soon, so almost four hundred and twenty-nine, which is still... not that old in terms of known vampires."

Jeeves folded his arms,"So... incredibly powerful."

"Apparently so," Aric replied.

"Unusually so," agreed Linda.

Aric paused, thinking again about his own situation, "As for werewolves,” he looked to Linda, “You may remember that I was bitten by one during our first fight. I really don't know much. Apparently, the curse doesn't fully set in until the first full moon. The medicine man, Luvash, is making a charm for me, but I feel just some general knowledge would help in this world."

Jeeves nodded, "Just want to know what to expect."

Linda looked between the two young men. She didn’t blame them for being so concerned. She held out her hand, explaining, "I know that werewolves can either shapeshift into a hybrid form on the full moon... or at will. And that they can retain their personality and awareness while transformed. That they are in full control of their actions, but are driven to hunt. Werewolves can be created by curses, from an untreated bite from a lycanthrope, or hereditarily. They have a normal human lifespan. Werewolves are weak to silver and magic... and they tend to stay in packs.Werewolves tend to avoid vampires on principal. It is possible to remove lycanthropy through a special herbal blend.That is most of what I know."

Aric listened intently. Any bit would be useful... "Thank you for all the information, you have been very helpful.”

Aric paused, “One last question though; do you trust Strahd?"

The question hit Linda like a brick. She thought about the moment she just shared with the vampire and sighed. She spoke truthfully, "I have no problem with him yet. I can't say that I trust him, but I can say that I am trying to understand him...”

She shook her head, “He drives me crazy with how shady and sketchy he is, but... I know I'm one to talk. So I kinda understand why.” She folded her arms, “I just take it in stride, if he isn't trustworthy, or betrays us...” she paused, “I'll kill him."

Regardless of her feelings... she knew how manipulative and cunning vampires were. Strahd was no exception. There is a reason no vampires get mercy calls in the field, she reminded herself...Though, part of her pained at the thought of it.

Aric nodded, “Seems we three are all in agreement then. Thank you for your time, Linda."

Linda nodded, "It's not any trouble. You boys get some rest."

She pat Aric and Jeeves on their heads and walked over to her room, letting them have privacy.

She walked over to the master, and immediately searched for Strahd’s little spy, finding a small bat in the corner of the room. She walked over and reached up, letting the bat flutter onto her hand.

She smiled and cooed as she pet it in her hand, "You're a good little sky puppy."

The bat squeaked and paused, its eyes glazed over for a brief moment... but then it continued to flutter its ears and lick its face.

Linda was well-versed in vampire capabilities. She sighed, "Ah, not so good sky puppy now. Hello, Strahd.”

Linda pet the bat in her hand anyway. The bat seemed to be surprised. Strahd’s voice came through to her head:

“You are... very attentive. I am surprised.“

Linda spoke dryly, "Well, you see. I love bats, and it seemed weird when it paused and it's little eyes glazed over. So, I knew."

Strahd’s voice replied, "Ah... apologies. I was just... skirting through each of my minions to check on things. I'll make myself scarce..."

Linda shook her head, "Well you have my attention now, and I am alone. Did you want to talk with just me?"

The bat perked its ears up.

Linda sighed, "I am sorry that we confronted you like we did,” she looked to the bat, “But it had to be done. I just didn't want it to be so... open. It's not my place to reveal your secret."

She had no idea why she was telling him that... Perhaps she just wanted him to trust her more... But the truth was that she couldn’t hold on to her anger at him. Even though everyone, and especially she had good reason to...

The bat blinked, "I... appreciated it not being open, but I am... admittedly uneasy at everyone's... lack of a reaction to my confessions.” He explained, “I have... nothing to go off of, as far as expectation. To have everyone act as if nothing happened... and then be friendly towards me, when others have tried to destroy me or plant a stake in my heart...” He paused, “Admittedly, this... calm... Is more alarming to me than outright anger or shouting, which is what I expected."

"Sorry to burst your bubble,” Linda chuckled, “We aren't exactly like most people...”

She opened up to him, “I’d like to explain myself a bit more. I'm not just a monster hunter. I'm closer to a bounty hunter like Mina. I just got really good at tracking down vampires and werewolves, so that is what I was hired to do. And I don't do it to just to hunt and kill. I don’t kill the misunderstood. Those I protect and help. So... I'm helping you.”

She hid the fact that she was the leader of a monster hunting order from him. He didn’t need to know... She looked at the bat examining her curiously.

She blushed, “What, I'm trying to say is. You haven't done anything to make me sway one way or the other... Sure, you are said to be this devil, this monster, but all I've seen is just a man.”

She pet the bat more, “One that frustrates me because you go from making threats, and being suspicious of me, to playing the piano with me. So.. I am just going to continue to observe you and try to find Timothy. And maybe find out how I can help you while I'm here."

The bat’s ears twitched, "I suppose that is fair. Do you... have any questions of me that you weren't able to ask, or were uncomfortable asking in the presence of the young lord and his... manservant?"

Linda nodded, seriously, "How do you go onto holy ground, and go out in sunlight? Also,” she pursed her lips, “is it really coming up on your birthday?"

Strahd paused, weighing whether or not to trust her...

"I made a spell very early into my vampirism that would allow me to bypass the holy auras for a short period of time.” He revealed, “Over time, I have gotten really adept at disguising magic work as simple gestures or habits. Because that spell requires a certain bastard incense burned... I turned it into a smoking habit. As for being able to walk in sunlight...”

The bat locked eyes with her, “I made an artifact that absorbed my damage from sunlight. It is stored in Castle Ravenloft... but it is more of a relic now. I no longer need it to walk in the sun... so now its use is just to absorb some damage that I take from battle.”

Strahd seemed to sigh, “And yes, my birthday is on the seventeenth, four days from now. I do not usually celebrate it, but rather mark it, as it is a day where I grow more powerful, or lose a weakness."

Linda blinked, stunned, "I didn't expect a straight answer, though I appreciate it,” she regarded him curiously, “So are you really just turning four hundred and twenty-nine? How can you do things that vampires way older than you can't do?"

The bat tilted its head, "It may have something to do with the fact that... I am...” his voice paused, hesitating, “...The First Vampire..."

Linda furrowed her brows. It didn’t make sense, "You are the first. But not the oldest... how?"

"Nine Hells if I know...” He listed his facts, “I know that I made the term, I created others like me... accidentally...” He added, “But I know that time is... off here. I have had visitors from the same world claim that it was different dates, centuries apart when they arrived. I can only assume Barovia's time is independent from your world or others... and that the Mists do as they please to bring in visitors."

Linda made a face of deep thought, "So you actually have no idea how old you are outside of Barovia's timeline.... you could be centuries older if you lived in my world.” She blinked, “Speaking of... what world are we in?"

"I forget the name of the world Barovia was once a part of. Only that it now rests in the Shadowfell because of my dark pact with Death."

Linda was shocked, "The Shadowfell.... we should not exist right now."

Very few who ever ventured into the Shadowfell ever returned... or came back utterly insane from the experience.

"And yet, here we are...” Strahd replied, “There are others like Barovia. All of them ruled by a creature of darkness."

Linda thought back to the journals, "What about this Death? Do the other rulers also have pacts or is that not something you could know?"

The bat blinked and paused, "As far as I am aware, I am the only one who has made a pact with Death... or the Dark Powers that rule the Shadowfell. Others were simply brought here. Not only was I the First Vampire, but Barovia was the first... Dread Realm of the Shadowfell. There was a point where entire nations merged themselves to Barovia's border, but I went through great pains to separate them."

"So are these Dark Powers what keep you from leaving? They control everything?"

The bat folded its ears back, nodding, "They are the wardens to my prison. I have some influence over the Mists, yes, but the Dark Powers ultimately decide what crosses my borders. Only the Vistani can freely travel. Their people weave an old magic I have yet to understand."

Linda raised a brow, "Have you thought about killing the Dark Powers?"

The bat’s eyes widened, "Does one normally entertain thoughts of killing godlike beings?!"

Linda nodded, "It's happened before. Some of the gods in Faerun have been killed."

The bat seemed stunned, "Then... it is a possibility? That sounds like good news, but also blasphemy. In which case, as a blasphemous creature, I am open to...” he mused, “But I don't know how one would go about challenging a god, much less actually destroying one."

Linda offered, "I can do some research into how the gods were killed where I'm from."

"In any case, it is an interesting idea, and one I haven't tried yet...” His voice seemed skeptical and uncertain, “It is something to think about.” He had the bat look up to Linda, “I think I will let this poor creature go, and let you rest."

Linda watched as the bat’s eyes glazed over again, and Strahd’s presence left the creature. She put it back in the top corner of the room and slunk into the bed, dimming the candlelight to rest.

#story update #curse of strahd #linda tacklemeyer #aric rein #ruki von holtz #writing #d&d #long post

3 notes · View notes

mumofadaofficial-blog · 5 years

Text

The Gap Filler

Firstly, a massive thank you to everyone that has read my first post! Your messages and comments have been overwhelming and you will never know how much it means to me to know that you all care enough to read our story - you guys are friggin amazing!! And I am so pleased to see that what I am doing seems to be helping or comforting others in some sort of way.

SO - last time I took you through Adas birth and getting her home. I touched very very briefly on the stressful time we had before Ada came off oxygen so I want to give you a run down on that. As traumatic as Adas entrance into the world was, life didn’t seem to get much easier for us and I think it almost completely fried my brain, but hey, we’re all crazy in one way or another right?!

Going back to KL hospital was an exstremely hard thing for me. The memories of what had happened there were still very fresh and very raw. Ultimately though, if it hadn’t of been for the team of people that initially worked on her, she wouldn’t be here today. So I sucked it up, put on my big girl pants and was ready to give it another chance.

There was definitely a big difference to Norwich, mainly I would say communication issues that I’m hoping lessons have been learnt from now. From going through this I have realised that parents really need to be included and told what is happening every step of the way, something which I think can easily be overlooked. When your Childs life is in the hands of someone else you NEED to know what is happening.

I don’t want to dwell too much on the things that were done wrong once we returned but it was a struggle and no parent should have to feel like they are battling with the providers of your Childs care - my advice would be to stand your ground, be strong, ask as many questions as you want and make sure you are happy with the answers and information given.

I also think its important to remember that not all people take the same pride and care in their job as others do, so we always tried to make a point of thanking the people that went the extra mile for us.

On the day that we were finally able to take Ada home we were not allowed to do so until she had undergone an MRI scan on her brain, we were told this was just routine. There wasn’t much explanation as to why. Instantly you think to yourself ‘omg, whats wrong?’ ‘Is there something wrong with her brain’ ‘is this routine or are they hiding something from me’ After doing research and asking questions, it is a routine thing to happen after a baby has been starved of oxygen at birth. Thankfully with Ada there was no signs of damage to her brain in the initial overview and this was then backed up by a specialist team at Nottingham (you still can’t stop your brain from thinking ‘what if?’ Whilst waiting to get those results back). After this she then had to have blood tests and a scan on her liver due to certain enzymes not being at an appropriate level. Without sounding thick, I didn’t even know what that meant and my head was just not processing anything properly. The information given to us on what would happen if it didn’t sort itself out was also very patchy.

Now taking a new born home on oxygen is bloody tough, you find yourself confined to your bedroom or to the lounge, the rooms where we had the oxygen canisters. And you feel very restricted and trapped. So much so that I pretty much only went to my mum and dads or to Tesco if I was feeling super brave. Trying to get a baby out of the car is hard enough when you’ve never done it before, let alone having a back pack with oxygen in it too. Personally we felt that we couldn’t travel up north to see Nathans family as it would be too hard, so unfortunately people had to miss out. Trying to run a house when confined to those two rooms is very hard, that whole sleep whilst the baby sleeps is not even a real thing! When Ada was sleeping I wanted to do my washing, clean up, eat something or even just sit outside and have a coffee. Looking back, I wish I had relaxed a bit more and just thought fuck it! Those jobs were not going to please anyone but myself. Being easier on myself after having a c section would probably of been a better option and I shouldn’t of pushed myself to do so much when it was sometimes really hard to do so. Thankfully Nathan was a good team mate and I have lovely family and friends who all tried to keep me sane and help as much as possible in the process.

In order to assess how Ada was coping and trying to wean her off oxygen it meant having weekly 24hr assessments on an oxygen monitor at home. If you haven’t ever had any experience with one of these its a clever, annoying as shit, little machine that shows her oxygen saturation levels via a sensor on her foot. If they drop below 90 it makes the loudest most annoying bleep you’ve ever heard…great when you’ve just got her to sleep and shes moved and knocked her sensor off 🙄. They are used a lot on premature babies, however, Ada was a full term, strong bruiser of a baby who really enjoyed throwing her feet around and getting into massive strops! (I have absolutely no idea where she gets her attitude from?!) It soon became apparent that trying to get accurate readings from the machine with the amount of movement she was making was going to be hard. The machine would go back, data would be downloaded and the readings were not accurate enough due to movement. It felt like a constant ACCESS DENIED. Back to stage 1, which is really hard on your mental state and emotions when you are desperate to get your baby better. This would mean we would have to repeat the 24hr process and her oxygen level couldn’t be reduced, even though as her parents we knew she was ok and capable. I was left with no choice but to provide a written documentation of EVERY movement that made her sensor drop throughout the 24hr period, sometimes meaning I wouldn’t sleep just to be able to prove that she was doing well. We’re talking like mental person sending in four A4 pages of movements! This went on for weeks, the longer it went on, the stronger Ada was getting and the harder it was to get the readings. At the time she was also struggling with silent reflux which seemed to play up especially for us on the days she had her monitor on - thank god we have now found infant gaviscon!!

As well as trying to cope with the oxygen there was a lot of different appointments at home, the hospital and doctors. Blood test for her liver enzymes again, health visitor, collecting oxygen monitor, hip scan, monitor again, physio, dropping monitor off, monitor again, dropping it off, another blood test, monitor again, health visitor, monitor again, immunisations, monitor again, physio, monitor again, consultant appointment, blood test, another hip scan, more immunisations, monitor again and physio - you get my drift and I’ve probably missed some out! Whilst all of these appointments were happening I was then having to chase for answers and information on the outcomes of all of these as the communication was very poor. But if you ask enough questions and make enough phone calls, eventually someone will answer you and you will find out what you need to know. Personally I don’t think it should have to be like that and it makes the situation a million times more stressful. But I do understand that staffing levels don’t always allow you to be the main concern and if your out of sight you can often be out of mind.

Gradually throughout all of this and my crazy note writing Ada was weaned down off her oxygen one step at a time, then it was stopped in the daytime so she only had to go on it at night.

Finally on the 27th of September we got the call that I had been longing to get! Adas consultant was happy for us to turn her oxygen off, completely! No messing around at night, no more changing plasters and making her face sore (making you feel like the worst person in the world), no more fighting to put her cannula up her nose and no more sleepless stressful nights with a monitor bleeping in your ear! I cried and then rang Nathan and cried a bit more, then I probably rang anyone else in my phone book that would answer, and you guessed it, cried some more. For once throughout this they were tears of happiness and relief. She had finally done it, our miracle baby had stuck her fingers up to the world and smashed it! In the words of the king that is George Michael ‘You got to have faith’ 😉

Now, our only reason to go to the hospital is for extra immunisations against bronchiolitis, unpleasant, but better than her being hospitalised again or poorly. And for routine check ups with her consultant which will happen until Ada is 2.

Deep breath for this part.

The effect that this has had on me has been unreal, and although Ada is fighting fit it still isn’t easy. I was always quite ignorant to issues involving mental health and was one of those ‘just get on with it’ people. I’ve now realised that sometimes this just isn’t possible. When something in your life has been so traumatic and so stressful it can be really hard to deal with and process, my main concern was Ada and to worry about me later. It is also very easy for people to say ‘she’s fine now so don’t worry’ but you do (please don’t take offence if you have said this to me!).

Hiding your feelings and pretending everything is ok is not healthy for anyone, but to seek help was not something I was prepared to do until recently. I am by no means crazy, or a manic depressant but I do have my bad days. Days when things get to me and the stress takes over, flash backs, not being able to sleep because my brain won’t switch off, worrying that something will go wrong, being well and truly put off from having any more children, having to have full control of all situations, and for weeks, I fully blamed myself for what happened to Ada and believed that I should of known something was wrong and prevented the whole situation. I have felt in the past like I am not good enough, like I’m doing a shit job and like I can’t cope. I have struggled to speak about how I feel as I was worried I would be judged or people would think I was a shit mum or that I couldn’t look after Ada properly. I have also pushed help away as I feel compelled to be some sort of ‘super mum’ and that no one else should be doing my job.

I still cannot talk about what happened without crying, and there isn’t a day go by when I don’t relive it at some point. I constantly look to see if Ada is developing as she should and is there any signs that something isn’t right, when I should just enjoy every moment. Living with me is probably a nightmare, Soz Nath, Mum and Dad - cheers for putting up with me 😘 Somedays I will snap at the smallest thing and overreact, whereas another day that same thing wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.

I am a very private person when it comes to my feelings and I have always thought to show people the venerable side of me would make me seem weak, when in fact it does the opposite. From doing this and the responses I’ve had I now realise just how important it is to talk out and show everyone the old saying of ‘It’s ok not to be ok’. To write this down and tell you all what has happened is unbelievably difficult, yet very therapeutic and I strongly believe that if more people were to speak out about how they feel and the effect it has, then it wouldn’t be such a taboo subject. Because it most definitely shouldn’t be and anyone who says they haven’t had a full scale meltdown at some point is most probably lying to you.

Ok, so might as well of just posted a naked picture of myself with the caption ‘HERE I AM’ after all that, but thats probably about as honest as you will find me.

Amy x

#blog #mumblog #mumbloggers #bloggers #nicubaby #nicu #neonatalbaby #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #nicumama

18 notes · View notes

onreflectingworlds-blog · 5 years

Text

Documentation

In my project, titled ‘On Reflecting Worlds’, I tried to focus upon the relations between ecologies, technologies, and virtuality, asking myself and the audience to consider our own understandings of how the augmentation and simulation of ecological systems might manifest, and our own places within this process. Understanding the setting and context of the piece I anticipated the viewers of my work to mostly be between 20 - 30 and working within, or already having experienced, higher education such as university. To a certain extent I then relied upon this anticipation of who might be viewing my work to inform some of my creative decisions, though only in the sense that I was perhaps less explanatory than I might otherwise have tried to be.

The piece consisted of a television, suspended from the ceiling by steel wire, hanging above a ‘pool’ comprised of two sheets of black acrylic surrounded by soil. On the television I played the simulation of water that I have been working on programming throughout the project, which then reflected in the black acrylic below, allowing the viewer to stand ‘over’ the ‘pool’ and look down at the simulation in the surrounding darkness of the material. For this project I really tried to think seriously about the kinds of interaction my piece might allow, and I was (and am) very interested in the idea of world-building. I wanted the piece that I made to feel immersive - to allow for an experience of visiting another space and time - so that the effect of the installation might be to cause an experiencer to pause, reflect, and be provided with enough distance from the ‘real world’ to think about what they are looking at with reference to their own lives and understandings. To try and achieve this immersive effect, I placed real soil on the ground and invited viewers to stand or sit upon it, and accompanied by the darkness and cold of the space I feel that it was effective in helping one to feel somehow removed or transported.

Conceptually, I’m driven by my interest in how technologies might be understood as relating to the living world, their environments, and ecologies. I began this piece, also, with a strong interest in the concept of agential realism (developed by Karen Barad), which deals with understanding materials and things as possessing their own kinds of intelligences and agencies, and this carried through into the exploration I tried to conduct in how I arranged the materials I used. I attempted to create my piece understanding it as an assemblage (inspired by, in particular, Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing’s description of assemblages in their book ‘The Mushroom at the End of The World’), and in this way I tried to include an intentionally limited number of elements: soil, acrylic, screen, simulation. I wanted each material to ‘fit’ with the others involved, and hoped that there might emerge a certain atmosphere from their juxtapositions - it is for this reason that I became so interested in black acrylic, as a material that could both simulate water in its own way (through reflection) and engage in a relationship with the television screen, the screen itself being composed largely of black acrylic and other black plastic. I also wanted there to be a noticeable pattern of relation between the earth and the water, though whilst this was achieved to a degree, I feel that in this instance my piece might be adapted and altered if recomposed in the future. I feel this way because I think that I might have done more to highlight the activeness and life of the soil if I had had more time, as I think that understanding the soil as alive changes my piece quite considerably when interacting with it, and I want to learn how to communicate this understanding more coherently.

I was, though, very pleased with how the quality of my water simulation turned out - I was unsure through the process of composing the work that I would be able to get the simulation to a place where I felt that it was accurate enough to represent water, whilst also remaining visibly a simulated effect. This balance in the simulation became very important to me because I wanted to try to comment on the advancement of techniques of simulation and their connection to the essentialisation and reduction of an externalised ‘nature’. To try and communicate this I intentionally ensured that the borders of the screen were clear in the reflection, and created the simulation by alternate means than I originally had intended. To begin with I was looking at shaders, and at using this approach as the technique by which I could create my simulation, but I ran into considerable technical and conceptual difficulty when trying to realise this vision. Technically, even seeking assistance from TA’s on multiple occasions, I kept on repeatedly running into bugs and errors that I felt significantly interrupted my workflow, and the results I found that I was achieving when not stopped by technical errors ended up frustrating me more than exciting me, as they failed to line up with my expectations. I think in this regard it is true that I underestimated the amount and depth of mathematical understanding that I would be required to have at my disposal i norder to realise this approach. Conceptually, I began to also wonder why it was that I was trying to simulate the behaviour of the entities I was trying to criticise through my work: this then touches on the lesson that I think is the most important take-away I gained from this project in terms of my continuing artistic practice - I realised that the position I, as an artist, adopt with my work extends beyond what I previously understood; If I create my work from a negative, hopeless, or profoundly critical place, I can only be responsive, and am not in control but am in fact beholden to the expectations that are set by structures and corporate/state institutions. I had trouble communicating this lesson coherently in my viva, I believe, as I was asked to explain why my simulation was not of higher quality (or not able to produce a more convincing/believable effect), but I do not feel that the alternate approach I decided upon was less than desired. This alternate approach that I took involved working with a wireframe mesh and altering its vertices’ values along the z-axis, having lit and coloured the wireframe a reflective white/light-blue and positioning it above a darker blue background. I began developing this approach initially as a ‘back-up’ method in case working with shaders didn’t pan out, so was nervous about how it would turn out in the last weeks leading up to the installation process, but in the end found myself happy with the result and proud of myself. I feel that under pressure I pushed myself and manipulated the knowledge and technical tools I had accessible to me to combine them in a way that produced a result that worked.

In terms of the build-process, my installation was not too intense as I already had the simulation, but instead required a lot of care and attention to try to frame my coded work in a way that communicated or at least touched upon my ideas for the piece. For me, more work with the installation was involved in clearly communicating my piece’s requirements to the tech-team and organisational team (of which I was a member throughout the duration of the exhibition planning process). I positioned the soil in a vague ring formation around the sheets of black acrylic which I had laid on the ground beneath the suspended screen. I spent most of my time on this arrangement of earth, because I felt that this added detail is what might give my piece much of its power to draw people into it. I found that the darkness of the room I was located within, in particular, really made the simulation work well, as the screen I had requested was of high-quality and brighter than expected, beng clearly visible in the acrylic and lighting up the surrounding materials with an interesting soft blue light. I tried in this piece to find a middle-ground between being aesthetically interesting and attractive, and conceptually meaningful. Overall I’m pleased with the piece I created, and feel that it’s a strong and powerful piece of work which presents a clear step forwards in what I’ve created and the ideas that I’m dealing with. Going into the future now I’m aware that the main way in which I want to improve my work is in the clarity of the messages and symbols which I want to get across to viewers. I have some difficulty with how much exposition has a place within the work I’m creating, and with how to arrange elements in ways so as to conjure more specific imaginaries with deeper philosophical weight behind them, but I remain nonetheless pleased with ‘On Reflecting Worlds’ and feel it achieved its aims. I received predominantly positive feedback on my work, with some smaller criticisms (use only one sheet of acrylic instead of two, perhaps position the screen differently) which I have considered and taken onboard.

1 note · View note

maevefiction · 5 years

Text

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 44

Blind rage washed over me, and my first instinct was to grab Luke’s phone and throw it off the balcony, as if doing so would make everything associated with it disappear as well. I could feel my eyes darting back and forth as my thoughts tried to force their way through the dense red fog, and out of the corner of my left one I caught sight of Tom falling backward into the wall, his knees buckling beneath him, and I realized that this, this singular moment in time…this was one of his greatest fears becoming reality. The anger drained from me, starting at the crown of my head and continuing until it reached the tips of my toes, quickly vanquished, and all of my focus turned to Tom, to reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. We had a plan, we were as ready as anyone could ever be, and we’d face it all, and handle it all, together.

Turning to him, I placed my hands on his shoulders and met his gaze. His pupils were dilated, his breathing much more rapid than normal. I spoke slowly and, I hoped, calmly.

“Babe. Relax. We’ve got this. It’s okay.”

He shook his head, breaking eye contact. “I don’t have this…I don’t think I have this…”

I moved my hands from his shoulders to either side of his head and forced him to look at me. “You know what? That’s okay. You don’t need to have this. Because I’ve got this. I’ve got it for both of us. I’ve got it, and I’ve got you, and it’s okay. Full steam ahead, remember?”

He bit his lip and inhaled deeply, then exhaled, voice shaky but strong. “Nothing’s going to stop this train. I liked it, and I’m gonna put a ring on it.”

I nodded. “And wow am I regretting what I said on the plane right about now…”

Tom reached out and ran his index finger down the left side of my face, stroking slowly along my cheek, then my jaw. “Perhaps you’re a bit psychic.”

“Did you mean a bit…psychotic? Because that seems more plausible.”

He smiled, which indicated that I was free to take action. I turned back to Luke.

“Okay, assuming you’ve read the full article, what’s her angle here?”

Luke frowned, nodding. “She’s framing it as Tom bought her silence in order to maintain his impeccable reputation and avoid damage to his career but she now regrets ‘covering up for him’ and says ‘it’s time everyone knew what kind of person he truly is’. Her words.”

“Fucking seriously? That’s what she went with?”

“Correct. It first appeared on a Reddit thread she started, entitled ‘The Real Tom Hiddleston’, with links to the videos hosted at a website with an url that corresponds to the thread title. The timeframe when they were made is unspecified, so there has been speculation that infidelity may be involved, especially since she’s chosen to release them the day before the wedding. And…”

Tom interjected, his voice now strong and dripping with venom, fueled by righteous indignation. “Well of COURSE that’s exactly what she’d go with. And that will probably be the next shitstorm to hit the media, right, Luke? That I cheated on Maude? That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

Sighing, Luke glanced down at the floor, then back up at Tom. “It’s a possibility we should prepare for, yes. Believe me, I wish it wasn’t.”

Tom stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m sorry, man. You know that wasn’t really meant for you. I’m just…I…very, very sorry.”

Luke patted his back gently. “I know. And I’m sorry. This is…it’s awful.”

I left them embracing and walked to the desk, powering up my laptop as I sat down. They both turned their head in my direction, and I stared back. “What?”

Tom released Luke and walked to my side, resting one hand on my shoulder. “Are you…are you alright?”

Shrugging, I looked up at him. “Hell no.” He bit his lip, and I smirked. “But I’m going to channel everything I’m feeling into doing what I do best. It’s showtime, baby. And I am going to CRUSH. HER.”

Luke joined us, stone-faced as he struggled to keep his anger in check.

“Maude, you shouldn’t have to do this. Not now. You shouldn’t.”

Having to maintain some modicum of professionalism in the midst of something that was so deeply personal was a hazard that came with representing friends and family, and despite us having a plan in place, we had known all along that an incident of this scale simply had to be handled by one of us. Our junior agents, though very skilled, weren’t yet ready for the scope of…well, a scandal. That’s what this had turned out to be, really. An out-and-out scandal. And we also knew that though Luke had an important part to play, I was the one that had to be cast in the leading role.

I shrugged again. “Ideally, no. I shouldn’t. But also ideally, I’ve been down this road before with other clients and know the ropes. You…haven’t and don’t. So it’s just got to be me. Pull up a chair or sit on the desk, fellas. The clock is ticking, and we need to hustle.”

Luke dragged one of the wing-backs over and sat facing me, Tom opted to squat down at my side. I took a deep breath, then began.

“Okay. I considered addressing all our guests first, but I think that ship may have sailed…and we really can’t spare the time to do it properly now. So we’ll save explanations for after if they’re needed. Luke, I know we planned on distributing press releases immediately, but let’s hold off.”

His left eyebrow rose, then both brows furrowed as he pondered what other avenue we could possibly utilize. “I want to question that, but intuition tells me to zip it and listen up.”

“Wise choice, sir.” He chuckled, as did I. “Here’s what I want you to do…talk to the business reservations manager, tell her we need a conference room or some other indoor space for 9 AM. It shouldn’t be a problem because they didn’t book any other events this week other than ours. Once you have a location, go outside. I’m sure the media coverage has multiplied by a factor of ten this morning…advise each and every outlet that we’ll be holding a closed press conference at 9:10.”

Neither of them commented, though Tom swallowed hard and Luke’s lips were pressed together with such force they’d lost their typical pinkish hue.

“Yes, I’m aware that sounds terrifying. But. BUT. It’s really a golden opportunity. Instead of just written statements, we’ll be able to speak, and there will be video and stills. They’ll have an opportunity to ask questions, so we can dispel rumors immediately. And, I’m going to give them an incentive. If, and only if, they run the story within an hour after the close of the conference and agree to leave us alone for the rest of today and all day tomorrow, they’ll be admitted to a fifteen minute post-ceremony, pre-reception photo opportunity. Just the two of us, in a location to be determined.” I turned to Tom. “If you’re okay with us pimping ourselves out on our wedding day, that is.”

“If you think it will afford us and our guests’ privacy and peace, yes, I am.”

“They’ll be getting two exclusives, and I’ll throw in that we won’t post anything to social media until the weekend, so that should seal the deal.” I frowned. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not something either of us would typically consider doing…”

He stood up, then sat on the desk next to my laptop, taking my hand in his and then kissing it. “Don’t you dare apologize, not for any of this. All the fault is mine, Maude. Thank you for finding us a way through this.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’re welcome.” Shifting in my seat, I rotated to face Luke. “I’ve got all the documents I need, so I’m going to start uploading them. Will you go hit the press? Not, like, hit them hit them. Not yet, anyway. You know what I mean. I’ll go over everything with Tom that he needs to cover in the interim. I think I just want you do corral the media and get their info, do the briefing, then introduce Tom, if that works.”

Luke nodded, rising to his feet quickly. “It does. I’ll go see what we’re dealing with so I can give you an idea of what to expect. Be back as soon as I can.”

As the door closed Tom released my hand, stood up once again, then walked around the desk and eased into the wingback next to me. A small smile appeared across his face, but the shine to his eyes told a different story…Tom’s default reaction to being afraid. Tears. I leaned forward, placing my hands on his knees as I met his gaze.

“All you’re going to have to do is read what I write for you. We’re going to do that right now, together. Your side, the facts. You will NOT be taking any questions. You finish your statement, and then I take over. That’s all. I know it’s awful, but it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

He bit his lip, eyes turning downward to stare at the pattern on the carpet for a good thirty seconds, breathing slowly in an effort to calm down. Finally, his eyes returned to mine and he nodded. “Okay. Thank you. You’ll be there, I can do this. I can do this.”

I stood, then bent forward to embrace him. He buried his face in my neck, and we remained as such, silently connecting, until I forced myself to let go and get to work. We’d been given a chance to get out ahead of this, and I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers, no matter how much I just wanted to hold him until everything else just faded away.

***************************************

Tom and I stood outside the Chart Room, waiting for everyone to be seated. At least 30 outlets were expected, and Luke had chosen this particular space not just for its square footage…it possessed two entrances, one of them on the main hotel drive, the other from inside the hotel itself, which made it possible to allow the press access to us, but not the hotel or its guests. The door we’d be entering was closed, and would remain so until Luke texted us before he began to speak to the crowd. I was wearing a black cotton tank dress, and Tom had donned black jeans and a long-sleeved white button down. When preparing his statement, I remembered what he’d said back in March in LA when confronting Claudia and sought the recording I’d made to transcribe it. That, along with a few additions, made for a brief but impactful description of what had actually occurred…and, unlike Claudia’s version, we had proof to back it up. My phone dinged, and I looked up at Tom, took a deep breath and opened the door. We walked slowly toward the podium as Luke greeted the media and walked them through what to expect.

“Welcome. Please pause or stop any recording devices you have active at this time.” He waited for thirty seconds, then resumed. “I expect all of you to conduct yourselves in a professional manner and to refrain from interrupting prior to the question and answer portion of the conference. As we discussed earlier, this is a closed press conference, which means you may not broadcast any material live. While I accept that you may choose otherwise, I’d like to encourage you to be respectful to both Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Gallagher when publishing articles relating to the situation at hand. Mr. Hiddleston will be making a statement, then Ms. Gallager, Prosper’s Social Media Director, will provide you with additional details pertaining to the matter. She will also be answering your questions. You are permitted to record and publish material from only Mr. Hiddleston’s statement, Ms. Gallagher’s formal statement, and the Q & A. There will be an off the record briefing prior to Ms. Gallagher’s formal statement, and she will advise you when you may resume recording.” He turned his head toward us, then stepped back, waving Tom in to take his place.

Tom felt uncomfortable with the idea reading what he planned to say, so he’d spent an hour memorizing it, though I’d insisted he bring my tablet along with the text readily available just in case. He set it down on the podium, adjusted the microphone, cleared this throat, and began.

“Good morning. Thank you for being here on such short notice. I very much appreciate your willingness to listen to my perspective and allow me to address the claims Ms. Heidrich has made. I met Ms. Heidrich towards the end of 2014. She was an extra on the set of I Saw the Light, and shortly after the director opted to cast her in a minor role, we began a sexual relationship. During filming, we did frequent sex clubs and engaged in what would certainly be considered non-traditional activities with other consenting adults. Ms. Heidrich and I also hosted other couples with similar interests privately, typically in my hotel room. Once the shoot ended, I travelled back to California with her, where we continued our sexual relationship until I discovered that she had been recording video and audio of our encounters with neither my knowledge nor permission. At that time, I made it abundantly clear that her having done so eroded all trust between us and as a result I no longer wished to be involved with her in any capacity. She expressed regret and, for the first time, indicated her perception of our relationship was that we were romantically involved, which differed from my own. I explained that regardless of how either of us felt, my decision to separate stood and I asked her to leave my hotel room. After her departure, I opted to return to London immediately, and before my plane even landed Ms. Heidrich had begun to harass me via phone and text messages. When I did not reply to those messages, they escalated from excuses and apologies to threats. She threatened to provide a detailed account of our interactions to my family and friends, she threatened to publish all of the videos she’d made online, and she threatened to ruin my career and make my life a living hell. It was at that point when I realized I’d found myself in a situation I wasn’t equipped to handle on my own and alerted my PR team, who called in legal representation. In an effort to stop the harassment, as well as to protect my family, my friends, and the various studios and organizations I represent and am associated with from the negative attention and potential loss of income that often results from the public revelation of personal, private matters, my team suggested that I enter into a non-disclosure agreement with Ms. Heidrich, and I willingly consented to doing so. I had neither seen nor heard from her until March of this year, when she attended the after party of the I Saw the Light Los Angeles premiere. Ms. Heidrich, without invitation, joined me on stage during a musical performance, and when the song finished she kissed me on the lips in front of my friends, colleagues and my fiancée. She then handed me a key to her hotel room and invited both me and my fiancée to join her for a tryst. It was, as you’d expect, mortifying, and though it was difficult to maintain any degree of professionalism, we managed to exit the party shortly after Ms. Heidrich did without drawing any undue attention to ourselves. I decided to use the opportunity to confront her face to face, so, with Ms. Gallagher as my witness, I did just that. I reiterated what I’d said to her when we initially parted ways, then told her in no uncertain terms that she was to never approach me in public or private ever again, and that if she did, I’d file a restraining order against her. Her response was to bring up the videos she’d made, first threatening that she’d publish them to embarrass my fiancée, whom she thought was not aware of their existence. When it was revealed that wasn’t the case, she then indicated that she would indeed publish them anyway. After Ms. Gallagher explained the actions that would be taken if any material was published, Ms. Heidrich responded by claiming she’d take action of her own, but when informed evidence existed which would prevent her from being victorious in that particular endeavor, she threw a highball glass at Ms. Gallagher. The object would have without a doubt hit her in the face if I had not pulled her out of the way. We then exited and returned to our own room, and decided to hope for the best…that Ms. Heidrich would finally move on. Today’s development is far from that ‘best’ we were hoping for, though not entirely unexpected. The timing is obviously intended to do the most harm…but rest assured it will not interfere in any way with our upcoming nuptials.”

I sighed, grateful that he’d made it all the way through, with the exception of the closing where he’d turn things over to me. A few seconds passed, and I thought he’d froze, but as he cleared his throat I sighed once more in relief.

“As a public figure, I have the opportunity to speak to a wider audience, and in this moment, I feel compelled to use my voice to draw attention to something that affects so many all around the world. Though I wasn’t aware of it at the time, during the second half of 2014 I was exhibiting symptoms of clinical depression, and I began self-medicating with alcohol to the point where I’d frequently black out. The behavior I exhibited during that time period was not typical, for me or of me. I don’t say that as an excuse, because I take full responsibility for my actions. I say it because I wish I’d been more informed about the symptoms of depression, I wish I hadn’t dismissed my feelings, and, most of all, I wish I had sought the help I needed sooner as opposed to later. There’s a stigma, a shame, still linked to any type of mental illness…one I didn’t even know I held fast to within myself. My own ignorance had a significant impact on my life, and what I wish to say is…if you’re feeling overwhelmed, less-than, grief-stricken, lost, angry, alone, anything that’s so powerful that it hinders you, who you are, who you try to be…tell someone. Make the call. Make an appointment. Get the help you need. There should be no shame in it…if you injured your body, you’d go to A&E. If your mind, your soul is injured…they deserve the same care and healing, do they not? Therapy helped bring me back from a very dark place, and taught me how to solve problems instead of trying to avoid them, or bury them. Without it, I don’t think I’d be here today, standing in front of you, about to stand tomorrow before gods and humanity and declare my undying love for and celebrate my commitment to the most amazing human being I’ve ever been blessed to encounter in this life.” He wiped away a tear from his cheek. “It’s okay to ask for help. It’s something we all need at some point in our lives, and it’s nothing anyone should ever be embarrassed by, or ashamed of. Thank you, again, for being here.”

He left my tablet at the podium as I’d requested, turning toward me, and it took everything I had to not break protocol and embrace him. Instead, I met his gaze and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ as he brushed against me on his way to Luke, and then both of them exited via the side door we’d entered by. We’d agreed he wouldn’t stick around for the rest, not only for his sake, but for mine as well. I needed to be in full on don’t fuck with this bitch mode, which would have likely been impossible if I knew he was there listening, and hurting. I stepped behind the podium, clicked my tablet out of sleep mode, and saw that Tom had used a drawing app to scrawl a note for me.

Your words are your scepter. They will all kneel before you. I love you. – T

I was unable to suppress my grin, so I used it as an ice-breaker.

“Man, I don’t recall sending any of you an invitation. This might be a Guinness world record for the most crashers at a single wedding.” They laughed, and I could feel that switch within me flip. “Before you begin barraging me with ridiculously intrusive questions, we’re going to play let’s make a deal. Ready? Here’s the deal. If, and only if, you run with this story within an hour after I’m done speaking AND you agree to leave us – Tom, me, our guests, the hotel staff, everyone involved – alone for the rest of today and all day tomorrow, you will be admitted to a fifteen minute photo and video session with Tom and me immediately after the ceremony and prior to the reception. The location will be emailed to you upon confirmation that the story was published before the deadline. And trust me, I’m going to check. Repeatedly. Because I want this everywhere. Like, right now. I’ll be sharing our path forward, I have information and supporting documentation and other goodies all of which only be available to YOU for distribution. Granted, there are a lot of you…but wow, what an incentive to be the, you know, first, am I right?”

More laughter, which I silenced by holding up my right hand briefly. “Don’t get too excited, because I’m not saying another word until you agree to the terms. Get this story out there within an hour, leave us in peace for the rest of today and all day tomorrow, and you get exclusive wedding couple coverage. We’re even going to hold off on posting to social media accounts until the weekend. So. If you don’t agree, please exit immediately. Remaining will be considered consent, and allow me to reiterate that I. WILL. BE. WATCHING. YOU. Also, permission is now granted to resume recording.”

I counted to thirty, and everyone remained right where they were, fiddling with their devices. “Mr. Hiddleston provided you with a brief summary of his relationship with Ms. Hedrich, and at this time I’d like to expand upon several points as they relate directly to our intentions in regard to her actions. It’s important to note that Mr. Hiddleston entered into an NDA with Ms. Heidrich on the advice of his PR and legal representation, and that his concern was not for himself, but instead for those around him. His team, though, was absolutely concerned about him…not only his reputation, which they were hired to protect, but for his safety and emotional well-being. Not only had he just discovered that his privacy had been violated by someone he trusted, he was in the midst of enduring a campaign of harassment and threats as a result of ceasing contact with the violator. Over the course of three days, Ms. Heidrich sent numerous text messages and called his cell phone two-hundred and sixteen times, leaving fifty three messages, each more bizarre than the last. She threatened to kill herself, contact his family, and publish the videos she’d filmed without his knowledge or consent on the internet. Mr. Hiddleston has in his possession the phone he’d been using during this time, on which all voicemails and texts remain in their original, unaltered state. I’ve captured screenshots and audio of a few, which you’ll be able to access with a link contained in an email you’ll be sent at the end of this conference.”

That got their attention like nothing else had as yet, and the room began buzzing with indecipherable murmuring, and I could feel myself begin to feed off their energy as I continued.

“You will also be able to access the non-disclosure agreement itself, which is obviously no longer valid as Ms. Heidrich has violated the terms contained within it. Quite spectacularly, if I may add. And, as you’ll soon see in the draft copies I’ve included for your perusal, she refused to sign on the dotted line until the settlement sum reached one million dollars.” Gasps and low whistles replaced the murmurs.

“Which brings me to…what’s next. Unfortunately, Mr. Hiddleston’s legal representation back in 2014 was not aware that what Ms. Heidrich was threatening to do was considered revenge porn, which is against the law in California and Louisiana, the states in which the videos were filmed. Had that not been the case, Mr. Hiddleston would likely not have had to enter into an NDA, nor paid out any sum in order to keep Ms. Heidrich in check, as the threat of jail time is often incredibly persuasive in and of itself. Now that she’s published the material she was contractually obligated to NOT publish, we will take action against her. In fact, this process has already begun. The hosting service she chose to use has taken down the website she created and moved all the content that was uploaded to a secure server. By their count, said content consists of 37 mp4 files. Reddit has agreed to remove the thread she opened after they’ve completed archiving all the posts and replies. Data from both will be retained for later use, as Mr. Hiddleston has opted to pursue criminal charges against Ms. Heidrich under both the revenge porn and invasion of privacy statues, and to file a civil suit as well for breach of contract. Be advised that the terms of the NDA were very clear and that Ms. Heidrich is now required to return the settlement compensation she received. All monies received by Mr. Hiddleston as restitution will be donated to a charity of his choosing. We anticipate having everything in motion by the end of next week.”

I paused, scanning the room, gauging whether or not I should ‘go personal’ again, as I had during my let’s make a deal segment. I knew they wanted me to…they always want that, the realness, evidence of emotional investment and, hopefully, pain. It’s what generates the most clicks. And then I remembered what Tom had written…and personal went right out the fucking window and I dove headfirst in the fray.

“Okay. Questions. Try to be concise so we can fit as many in as possible. One per outlet maximum. And when I say done, we’re done.” Hands rose in a wave. “Daily Mail. You’re at the top of my naughty list today, so let’s get your query out of the way first.”

There was snickering, but the woman stood, undeterred. “How long have you known about the videos? Have you watched them?”

I gave her the Frank Underwood sipping a beverage glare of disgust. “That’s two questions. Next time put an ‘and’ in between them and perhaps your inability to follow the rules won’t be quite as obvious. Tom and I first discussed his relationship with Claudia a few weeks after we met. And no, I haven’t watched them. Have you?”

Her cheeks reddened as she sat down quickly. Ah, another opportunity for a Loki-esque smirk.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then. TMZ, go.”

A man with long dark hair in a well-worn Ramones shirt rose quickly from his chair. “Ms. Heidrich mentioned the premiere and hotel meeting on the Reddit thread, and according to her she and Tom spent the night together…you were all staying at the same property, and he went upstairs to her suite after you fell asleep, then snuck back in before you woke. AKA, he cheated on you and you had no clue. Tom’s version of events is completely different. Which one is the truth?”

“There’s a reason why Tom didn’t go up to her hotel room alone…and it’s precisely because it was a perfect set up. Cameras all over the property, right outside the room to get him coming and going but leaving everything in between up in the air in order to craft a he-said, she-said scenario to which there’d be no concrete resolution. Which is why I recorded audio of the exchange in its entirety on my phone and, during the checkout process back in March, requested that the hotel retain a full 24 hours of surveillance covering both our room entrance as well as Claudia’s. Oh, right. I didn’t answer your question. Sorry. Tom’s version is the truth. Next, Sun.”

“Maria Fontaine, Ms. Gallagher. So you’re saying a recording of the exchange exists…will you be releasing that?” Her dark blonde eyebrows rose above the black rectangular frames of her glasses.

“I hadn’t planned on it, but the file just needs to be uploaded to the location of all the rest of the materials available to you. So, yes.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held it up. “The original is still right here, safe and sound and timestamped.”

As I slipped it back in, a stringer from the Hollywood Reporter, one I recognized from previous conferences, jumped up and blurted out his question. “Was Ms. Heidrich made aware that you were recording her?”

I snorted. “I’m going to have to subtract a hundred points for not waiting your turn but wow, you’re quick on the uptake today, Cody. No. She was not made aware that she was being recorded. Yes, California is a two party state and I fully understand that I may be subject to criminal and civil penalties as a result of my negligence to do so. E! News, you’re up.”

Rising slowly from her seat and smoothing her black and white chevron printed dress along the way, a woman with black hair to her waist and dark red lipstick titled her head at me as she placed one hand on her hip. “Since you haven’t seen them, how can you be sure that none of the videos were filmed after you met Tom? Maybe he was actually cheating with her, if not that night in LA, then some other time?”

That took my mind in an unpleasant direction, even though I knew there wasn’t a shred of truth to it. “Well, the best way to analyze them is by evaluating his hair style, coloring, and body type. In order to play the role of Hank, Tom lost a significant amount of weight and dyed his hair dark brown. We met in June of 2015, right after he completed filming for the Night Manager, for which he bulked up, adding a great deal of muscle mass and definition. His hair was also shorter, and lighter. The difference should be glaringly apparent.” From the look on red lipstick’s face, I could tell she was super disappointed that her question hadn’t pushed me over the edge and into boo-hoo personal territory, but it did make me reflect on the very first question I’d received. The fact began to sink in that though I hadn’t seen the videos, a vast number of people HAD viewed them, and would continue to do so unto perpetuity now that they were in the wild. Folks everywhere were watching my very soon to be husband having sex. With people who weren’t me. Seeing him in the most intimate situations possible, receiving a torrid glimpse into what likely happened when he and I were behind closed doors. And probably getting off on it. My heart began to pound and I was accosted by a mild wave of nausea, at which point I knew I needed to shut the conference down, and quickly.

“Two more questions. Hollywood Life, your turn.” I was stunned they had a body present…their normal modus operandi was to make shit up. Said body was female, and, if I had to guess, an intern. Her gum cracked as she spoke.

“Aren’t you concerned about being with someone who’s had so many sex partners? Has Tom been treated for any STIs?”

Resisting the urge to flip her off was tantamount to not scratching a bug bite. “Ah, there are the ridiculously intrusive questions I was waiting for. Also, are you serious right now? Neither of those are anyone’s business. Take that judgmental bullshit down the road. And if I see you’ve printed anything at all about either, now or somewhere down the line, you’ll be hearing from me. You may think that’s preferable to hearing from my attorney, but trust me…it isn’t.” Her eyes were huge, and she sat down in slow motion.

“Last question. Radar Online.”

Their reporter hadn’t even bothered to take of his sunglasses. “Will the wedding be postponed?”

I leaned forward, jaw having dropped open at his idiocy…but, thankfully, I realized only Tom had addressed that particular issue on the record and this dude wanted something from my lips he could actually use. “The wedding will proceed as planned, and we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves with our friends and family. Like people who fall in love and get married do every day all over the globe. But with more Marvel character actors. Probably. Thanks for coming, everyone. Emails should be sent out within the next fifteen minutes for you.”

There were shouts, which I ignored as I grabbed my tablet and headed for the side door. Blocking my path was a man about my age, maybe a little older, perhaps mid-40’s, wearing a black t-shirt, chili-pepper print Bermuda shorts and black plastic flip-flops. His hair was light brown, up in a bun, and he sported a goatee flecked with grey. My stomach was roiling, and I was just about to shove him when I thought better of it, using my words instead.

“Can I help you with something?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Listen, I know you just want to jet and I’m really sorry to bother you, but I freelance for a lot of outlets, some of which are actually, you know, reputable. The New York Times has been asking me to do a story on something tech within the entertainment industry, and I was wondering if you’d agree to sitting down for an interview about your app. I saw it on someone’s phone last week, and downloaded it myself, and it’s incredible. Like, life changing incredible. Your marketing has been targeted mainly at studios and actors and PR, but it should be wider. Way wider. I’m Chad Morrison. Here’s my card, call me if you’re interested when things settle down. Best wishes to you and Tom.”

I accepted the shiny paper rectangle, trying my best to not puke on his feet. “Wow, thank you. I will. Thanks again.”

He stepped aside and I hurried out into the hall, passed by Tom and Luke, and darted to the restroom just down the corridor. I could hear Tom calling my name, but I was too preoccupied with barfing into the sink to answer. The door creaked open as I was on heave number five, nothing coming up by then other than what I was sure would be my innards. I saw his reflection in the mirror, and he gathered my hair into one hand, holding it back from my face, then began to rub my back gently with the other. I heaved twice more, and…that was that. Tom passed me a stack of paper towels, and I washed my hands and face, then turned around, my eyes meeting his, which were full of concern. I smiled meekly.

“Sorry about that.”

He frowned, taking my hands in his. “Are you alright? What happened in there? We listened, and…”

“Dude, you weren’t supposed to listen. It went fine, I just…it kinda slammed me, the idea that the masses are watching you fucking someone who isn’t me. But I think I’m over it already. Water under the bridge. Digestive fluids down the drain. And I probably should have had breakfast. Coffee is not breakfast.”

He pulled me into an embrace, stroking my hair as he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

I leaned back to look at him again. “It’s okay. Sometimes when I get overwhelmed I throw up. Like a two year old after a crying fit. Or something. I feel fine now, though. Actually, I’m hungry. Which is weird because christ, that was gross. Let me make sure the sink is clean before we leave.”

He kissed my temple, released me, then checked the sink himself. “It’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yep. My brain decided that the solution to my problem was to realize that while there may be lots of people seeing you do the deed, I’m the one who gets to actually DO the deed with you, from this day forward forever and ever amen, so I win.”

“Your logic never fails to amaze me.” Reaching out, he took my chin in his hand. “I’m still very, very sorry. Thank you for standing there and handling it all.”

“Well, I’m a little disappointed that they didn’t kneel before me.”

He laughed, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose. “Only because they were sitting, my love.” He released my chin and took my hand in its place.

“True. It’s like too lazy to get off the floor kneeling. Totally acceptable. Also, what you said, your improvisation…that was…it was beautiful, and very, very brave, and I’m so proud of you, Tom. And also ridiculously, totally, completely in love with you.”

A big, beautiful smile spread across his face. “Same, Maude. Same. And thank you. It’s been in the back of my mind for quite some time, but it never seemed right until that moment. If it helps even just one person, it’s worth it. Plus, if the world’s going to know I’m not perfect, they should know just how imperfect I truly am.”

“Thomas, I’m going to have to go ahead and disagree with you there. You are TOTALLY perfect.”

He laughed, a full on three gear ehehehehe. “Come on, then. Let’s get you fed.” He held the door for me, and we walked back to join Luke, and Simon, who’d arrived in our absence.

“Lets. I have one file to upload, then the first email can go out. By the time we’re done eating, the story should be spreading like wildfire. And after I send the invitations, this is going to be Luke’s problem until after the weekend unless it’s absolutely necessary for us to get involved. Right, Luke?”

Luke glanced at Tom, silently inquiring as to whether or not I was okay. Tom nodded, and Luke sighed with relief.

“Sure thing, Maude.”

Simon pointed at me. “Whatever Bridezilla wants, Bridezilla gets.”

I pointed back. “And don’t you fucking forget it, mister.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 44

4 notes · View notes