#rei looking directly at the camera like why are you subjecting me to this. i do not need any of this. i know how to do it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Hi! I was just watching good omens and I came up with some questions, but I didn't know whom to ask, so I was digging around for go analysis blogs and found you. *takes a breath* So, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on why Heaven's camera angles are the way they are. I noticed that, in heaven, the camera tends to focus on the characters' heads specifically, so they fill most of the screen. Either it's a meta reason or a reference to something (like Newt with the Office) that I'm not getting. That's the main thing, but I've also wondered why exactly Aziraphale uses the verb "fraternize" in the 19th century. It seemed an odd pivot from caring about Crowley's safety to Heaven's rules. Thanks so much!

Hello! Omg yes, let's talk Good Omens cinematography.

First, the obligatory Analysis Disclaimer: I doubt there's a specific interpretation that you're just not getting, some singular, "correct" reading of the scene(s). Two years past release, I'm positive the fandom as a whole has come up with plenty of ideas (I mostly hang on the periphery. I'm far from up to date with GO meta), but any and all of it will, by nature, be subjective. Thus, all I can offer is my own, personal interpretation.

So for me? It's about intimacy.

Not intimacy in the sense of friendship, but rather the broad idea of closeness. Confidentiality. Emotion. Knowledge. Understanding by means of literally getting into the thick of these conversations. I love the camerawork in Heaven (and elsewhere) because the camera itself acts like a person — an additional party to these interactions. And, since we're the ones watching this show via the camera, it makes it feel as if we're peeking into scenes that are otherwise private. Obviously all cinematography does this to a certain extent, the camera is always watching someone or something without acknowledging that we're doing the watching (outside of documentary-esque filmmaking), but GO uses angles and closeups to mimic another person observing these scenes, someone other than the characters involved.

The easiest example I can give here is when Michael makes their call to Ligur. Here, the camera is positioned up on the next landing of the staircase, as if we're sneaking a look down at this otherwise secret call. There's even a moment when the camera pans to the right to look at them through the gap in the railing, briefly obscuring Michael from our view.

Here, a standard expectation of any scene — keep your character in focus — is done away with to instead mimic the movements of someone actually hiding in the stairwell, listening in on the conversation. It creates that feeling of intimacy, as if we're really there with Michael, not just watching Michael through a screen. The camerawork acts like a person overhearing an illicit conversation prior to falling back on mid/closeup shots. We're spying on them.

To give a non-Heaven example, the camera helps us connect with Aziraphale during Gabriel's jogging scene. It's hard to show through screenshots, but if you re-watch you'll see that the camera initially keeps them both in the frame with full body shots, allowing us to compare things like Gabriel's unadorned gray workout clothes with Aziraphale's more stylish outfit; one's good jogging form and the other's awkward shuffle. However, this distance also creates the sense that we're jogging with them, we're keeping pace.

That is, until Aziraphale begins to lag. Then the camera lags too, giving them both the chance to catch up, so to speak.

Until, finally, Aziraphale has to stop completely and the camera, of course, stops with him. We're emotionally attuned to Aziraphale, not Gabriel, and the camerawork reflects that. Even more-so when we cut to a low shot of Gabriel's annoyed huff at having to stop at all, making him appear larger and more imposing. Because to Aziraphale, he is.

This work carries over into Heaven's other scenes. The closeups are pretty much a given since, whether it's Gabriel realizing Aziraphale has been "fraternizing" with Crowley (more on that below!), or Aziraphale choosing to go back to Earth, the scenes in Heaven are incredibly important to the narrative. Closeups allow the viewer to get a good read on each character's emotional state — focusing on minute facial changes as opposed to overall body language — and that fly-on-the-wall feeling is increased as we literally get an up close and personal look at these pivotal moments.

Compare a shot like this one of Gabriel to the line of angels ready for battle. We don't get closeups on any of their faces because their emotions aren't important. Yes, that's in part because they're background characters, not main characters, but a lack of emotion — their willingness to enter this war without question — is also the point of their presence in this scene. So they remain a semi-identical, nearly faceless mass that runs off into infinity down that hallway, not any individual whose inner life we get a peek at via a closeup.

I particularly like Aziraphale's conversation with the angel... general? Idk what to call this guy. He's just gonna be Mustache Angel. But, getting back on track, his scene has a lot of over the shoulder shots which, admittedly, are pretty common. From a practical perspective they're used to help the audience situate both characters in the scene — you're here, you're there, this is how you're spaced during this conversation — but it can also help emphasize that closeness between them. Keeping both characters in the shot connects them and though Aziraphale and Mustache Angel definitely aren't on the same page here, those shots help cue us in to the unwanted intimacy of this moment. They're both angels... even though Aziraphale no longer aligns himself with them. They're both soldiers in a war... but Aziraphale will not fight. This angel has a list of Aziraphale's secrets, including that he once had a flaming sword and lost it... but Aziraphale doesn't want to admit those circumstances to him. This angel wouldn't understand, even if he did. Intimacy here, connection and closeness, is something discomforting because Aziraphale can no longer embrace those similarities. They put him (and us) out of sorts, so when we get them both in frame, that connection creates tension, not relief.

And many of those over the shoulder shots are given sharp angels, or the camera is placed too close to the "off screen" party. Compare a shot like Luke and Rey to Aziraphale and Mustache Angel. Here, Luke is a clean, solid line on the left side of the screen, just enough there to cue us in to where he is in relationship to Ray, In contrast, Mustache Angel's mustache is Too Close and proves rather distracting. Rey and Luke are connecting here over being Jedi with responsibilities to uphold (or at least, Luke will acknowledge that connection later lol); Mustache Angel is forcing a connection with Aziraphale that makes everyone uncomfortable.

We are too close to him here. He feels too close to Aziraphale too. This whole conversation is upsetting and discomforting, pushing Aziraphale to finally choose which side he's on (his own with Crowley). The shots aren't meant to subtly keep the audience from getting lost and then otherwise be unobtrusive, we're supposed to be Very Aware of this angel's body and how close he's getting to the character we've come to identify with — both literally (he's leaning in) and in terms of forcing Aziraphale to finally make his choice.

When Mustache Angel marches forward and gets all up in Aziraphale's face, the camera positions itself behind Aziraphale in a way that makes it feel like we're hiding behind him, with Aziraphale taking up far more of the screen than Luke does. Like the scene with Michael or running with Gabriel, the camera often likes to mimic a "realistic" response to these events. This angry, shouty angel is getting closer, best take a step back and stay out of sight behind Aziraphale, holding his ground.

These closeups also serve as a nice contrast to the wide and longshots we get of Heaven. It's an imposing place with skyscrapers in the distance, lots of steel, immaculate floors, and endless white. It's overwhelming and it's cold. But then we cut to those mid-shots of Gabriel and Michael, telling us that they're in control of it all.

Aziraphale? Aziraphale is not in control. Not now, anyway. When he appears in Heaven we get a longshot to show off this endless void and he's just another, tiny speck in it. If he weren't flailing around — an acting move that likewise helps sell how out of his depth he is — it's unlikely you'd even notice him. Aziraphale's clothing and hair blends in perfectly with the background. He's forgettable. Easily overlooked. Someone to underestimate. And when he moves, he has to come to the camera. We don't cut to Aziraphale to establish control like we do with Gabriel. He's left to awkwardly shuffle up to Mustache Angel until he's finally come into view.

Yet when Aziraphale makes his decision, he aligns himself with the brightest, most colorful, most interesting thing in the room: Earth. Earth, with all its messy individuality, is the antithesis to Heaven's controlled uniformity and a bright blue orb hanging in the midst of all this white helps remind us of that. Aziraphale rejects becoming one of the identical soldiers and instead literally reaches out for the one thing in Heaven that doesn't fit in.

When he leaves, we get an extreme closeup for the first time. Mustache Angel is pissed and as such we not only get a good look at his face in the aftermath of Aziraphale's choice, but that extreme closeup on his mouth as he's shouting too. It's like he's shouting directly at us, the viewer who is currently cheering on Aziraphale's decision. There's a war, dammit... but we don't care. Not in the way he cares, anyway.

So there's a lot! And I could probably go on, but apparently I'm only allowed to add 10 images per post now (tumblr what the actual fuck if anyone knows a way around this please share!) and I've already had to merge a bunch of images like an animal. So let's awkwardly finish up with the duck pond scene.

...without a GIF because they apparently count as images too 🙃

Simply put, I don't think Aziraphale bringing up fraternizing is a pivot from one to the other — from caring about Crowley to caring about Heaven's rules. I mean yes, Aziraphale is lagging behind Crowley in terms of rebellion and a part of him is, at this point, absolutely concerned with how he'll come across to the higherups, but that worry doesn't stem solely from a (now very shaky) desire to obey for the sake of obeying. The thing is, Aziraphale's disobedience is, by default, also Crowley's disobedience. If they're friends and they're ever found out, they'll both get in trouble. Which, we know from the end of Season One, basically means being wiped from existence. That's horrifying! And it's a horror that threatens them both. I don't think Aziraphale cares about rules for the sake of rules; after all, he started off by giving away his sword, lying to God, is currently meeting with Crowley anyway... this angel has always ignored/bent the rules — established and implied — that don't suit him. Rather, he cares about the rules if he thinks they have a chance of being enforced. If there will be consequences for breaking and bending them. This is still about caring for Crowley (as well as saving his own, angelic skin). If they're found out, Crowley dies. And, as we the viewer learn, Heaven was indeed observing them that whole time. There was always legitimate risk attached to this relationship. Aziraphale's fear, hesitance, and at times forceful pleas to stop this stem as much from Aziraphale worrying about Crowley's safety as they do a learned instinct to obey the rules without question. He pushes to end the relationship because the relationship threatens the only thing Aziraphale cares about more than that: Crowley himself.

As for the term "fraternizing," that's a loaded one! I won't go into a whole history lesson here, but suffice to say it has military roots: to sympathize as brothers with an opponent. That is literally what Crowley and Aziraphale are doing. They are an angel and a demon, supposedly innate enemies, supposedly poised for an inevitable war... yet they've formed an incredibly strong kinship. They've both learned to love their enemy, the thing every army fears because, well, then your army won't fight (just as Aziraphale won't). However, beyond the enemy implications, "to fraternize" eventually took on a sexual meaning: to not merely love as a brother, but to lay with the enemy too, usually women from enemy countries (because, you know, heteronormativity). Nowadays, "to fraternize" often implies a sexual component. I've been rewatching The Good Wife lately and in one subplot, the State's Attorney cracks down on fraternization in his office. He doesn't mean his employees are forming bonds with assumed enemies, he means his employees are having sex on his office couch. So Aziraphale's phrasing here carries a LOT of weight. He's both reminding Crowley of their stations in the world — you are a demon, I am an angel, us meeting like this can have formal, irrevocable consequences for us both — as well as, given the fact that this is a love story, drawing attention to the depth of this relationship. They love one another, as more than just friends. Though whether Crowley's scathing "Fraternizing?" is a response to Aziraphale falling back on the technicalities of their positions, or acknowledging a love he's yet to overtly admit and commit to — or both! — is definitely up for debate.

#Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #Air Conditioning #mymetas #whew #long post!#with too few images imo #with this done I'm gonna steam #about tumblr's absurd limitations #how's a girl supposed to do meta on this website anyway

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whillsofstars · 5 years

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Chapter 12

Hi tumblr friends! I am so sorry it’s been a while since my last chapter update, but I so appreciate those of you who have hung in there for me. Work has been crazy busy and I haven’t had much time to write. Luckily for you though, I’ve been saving a few chapters that I plan on sharing over the next few days. Also, I’m so thrilled to announce that I’ve finished the first third of this FanFic, which will conclude at Chapter 14. (yay!) I cannot wait to start writing the next third.

Enjoy!

KYLO REN-----------------------------------------------

Kylo couldn’t breathe.

Try as hard as he might, his lungs refused to accept the precious, life-giving oxygen they so desperately needed. The pain sent tears to his eyes, but still no breath would come.

It wasn’t until he heard a swoosh as the door to Hux’s chamber opened that he was able to break free of the terror that clutched him and take a quick, desperate gulp of air.

His head snapped to see who had just joined him, and was flustered to find that it was Armitage himself stepping over the threshold.

“Ren!” he snapped. “What in the blazes are you doing in my private chambers,” he hissed, his voice filled with venom.

Hux stopped halfway between the opening and where Kylo sat at his desk. The emotions coming off Hux were like a punch to the face: fury, disdain, hatred. But another emotion lingered there too. It appeared as though Hux was genuinely fine with Kylo’s intrusion. Kylo wondered why.

Regaining his composure, Kylo moved to stand. He would not let Hux believe that he could be intimidated.

“Where is Kasari Ren?” Kylo questioned low and threatening. He was actually quite interested in Hux’s answer. She was supposed to contact him on their comlink should anyone approach. Come to think of it, why hadn’t Jaster Ren said anything? Hux was scheduled to be in his meeting for another hour.

Hux gave a small prideful chuckle at Kylo’s question, “You’ll soon find out, I assume - but not yet.”

What the kriff is that supposed to mean? Fine, Kylo thought, if Hux is going to play games, I can go along with it.

Moving off the subject, Kylo held the Sith text out before him. “Interested in learning about the Force General?” he said tauntingly. “Honestly, if I were you, I would put your time into studies more useful to someone lacking in these particular talents.”

Anger briefly flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with contempt.

“Ah, that,” Hux said evenly in his snobbish Core World accent. “Now that does have a great deal of value to me...,” he said pausing as wicked smirk began to settling across his lips, “...and to you, Ren.”

To me, huh?, Kylo thought.

“What is it you’re up to Hux?” he demanded threateningly, though Kylo had a dreadful feeling that he already knew. When Hux continued to say nothing, being content chuckling to himself, Kylo lost his patience. “Out with it Hux!” he roared.

“Save your wrath for someone else Ren. You do not scare me - not anymore,” he added.

Kylo called upon the Force and threw Hux into the nearest wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. A second later, Kylo was on Hux, his left hand firmly encased around Hux’s throat.

“What are you doing with the Sith text, Hux?” he growled through gritted teeth. “Answer me!”

Before Hux could respond, the unmistakable hiss of a lightsaber igniting filled the room.

“Let him go, Master.”

Kylo snapped his head to where the voice originated and was taken aback to find Jaster Ren occupying the space by the doorway. The light from his saber cast a soft crimson glow to Hux’s quarters.

Rage flooded through Kylo as understanding began sinking in: Jaster had betrayed him. His knight, a Knight of Ren, had aligned himself with his foe. This was intolerable. How dare a knight turn on his master.

Kylo kept his hand firmly drawn over Hux’s throat, daring Jaster Ren to do anything about it. “How long have you been serving Hux, Jaster?” he said, eyes like daggers.

Jaster cocked his helmet-enclosed head to the side, his lightsaber still lit and casually held ready to attack. “Perhaps the better question is how could you betray our Supreme Leader Snoke?”

Kylo froze, his hand letting up on Hux’s throat ever so slightly. What did he just say?

Seeing Kylo’s surprise, it was Hux who was next to speak.

“Oh please, Ren,” he said mockingly, though the sound come from his lips was strained. “How simple are you?” He reached to move Kylo’s grip on his throat. Sensing the dangerous predicament in which he now found himself, Kylo compiled and relinquished his hold over Hux.

Hux took a step back and took in greedy gulps of air while gingerly massaging his neck, small bruises already starting to form, before continuing, “In your treacherous moment alongside that scavenger bitch, did you forget about our security cameras? Perhaps you thought they were destroyed after the Supremacy was attacked by the Resistance Star Cruiser.”

While Kylo’s body remained perfectly still, his mind was racing almost as fast as light speed. They had known this whole time. He had been played and he was now caught in their trap.

Kriff. This was worse than waking up to find his uncle ready to murder him.

Adrenaline was coursing through him and Kylo knew of only one way out of this: if he managed to kill both Hux and Jaster, he could probably resume his role as Supreme Leader.

But how many more know about this? A voice whispered in his thoughts.

“Ren,” Hux spat, pulling Kylo out of his thoughts. “Your reign ends now. You will be taken under arrest and tried as a traitor to the First Order for conspiring with the Resistance, and will be held responsible for the murder of our beloved Supreme Leader Snoke.”

To hell they would arrest me, he thought.

Kylo made a slight motion towards the door when Jaster positioned himself directly in his path. “I don’t think so Kylo,” he said with the clear indication of a threat. Jaster lifted his free hand containing a comlink. “Send them in,” he commanded and within seconds, Hux’s relatively small quarters filled with three praetorian guards.

What was he going to do? He was trapped.

As he sized up his opponents, he became less sure of his chances of getting away unscathed. Should he give up and admit defeat? Not yet.

He had questions that needed answering before that happened.

He turned once again to face Hux, giving him a hard stare into his steely eyes. He hated how smug Hux looked. One day if he ever got the chance, he would make him pay. For Rey, for this, for making his life difficult from the moment he First Order. He would pay.

Feigning defeat, Kylo let out a deep breath and addressed Hux, “Before you take me, will you at least tell me what you’re doing with that Sith text?”

A wicked grin overtook his features as he took a step forward closer to Kylo, “I suppose there’s no point in secrecy any longer is there, Jaster?”

Jaster kept his defensive stance, continuing to halt any attempt Kylo made to leave.

“I’m actually quite surprised that you hadn’t wondered about it sooner. You see,” he said pensively, “you weren’t the only one Snoke spoke to about the Force and its secrets.” He took another step closer. “As it turns out, Darth Plagueis wasn’t the only one who could cheat death, and that text offers some very fascinating revelations.”

Now Hux was within mere feet from where Kylo stood, surrounded by praetorians ready to attack.

Hux brought himself closer still and lowered his voice so it was only Kylo who could hear his words. “And now, I’ll share my secret,” he paused before continuing, “Supreme Leader Snoke lives on. You failed, Ren. And now you will lose everything.”

Hux stepped back and addressed the praetorians. “Seize him. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter.”

At once the whole room sprang into action.

Kylo called upon the Force and sent the praetorians and Hux flying across the room, smashing them into the wall hard enough to dent their armor. But this was only a small victory that wasn’t meant to last. Jaster Ren was on him almost immediately, lightsaber ignited and ready to kill. His attacks were precise and deadly.

Kylo called upon his own saber unleashing the fiery, crackling blade with a hiss just in time to counter Jaster, locking their blades overhead.

He took advantage of their proximity and dealt a hard kick to Jaster’s unprotected abdomen. He heard the unsettling crack of bones shattering. With Jaster lying on the ground heaving in pain, Kylo took off out of Hux’s quarters. He had to hurry though. Jaster was a Knight of Ren and it wouldn’t take more than a few moments before Jaster collected himself and moved to pursue him.

He dashed out the door into the corridor hoping to find little opposition, but things would not be so easy.

Two more praetorians waited at the ready, blocking either side of the hall. The one at his right side stood at attention, but it was the one on his left that caught his breath. This praetorian was much larger than his counterpart, with broader shoulders and a muscular build. But outside of his bulking frame, Kylo was fixed upon the blade he held tightly in one hand, and how close it was resting beside Kasari’s neck, who was restrained by the guard’s remaining arm.

Relief coursed through Kylo with the realization that Kasari hadn’t betrayed him, but fear was present too. He wasn’t about to lose one of his Knights, and if he was going to free her, Kylo had to think fast because the praetorian behind him made his advance.

Kylo dodged his thrust, but just barely. The effort it took threw him off balance, and the praetorian dealt a blow to his side, sending him smashing into the wall.

Despite the pain spreading from his back, Kylo was able to focus his strength and use the wall as leverage to land a strong front kick square into the praetorian’s chest sending him backwards into the opposite wall. Before he could recover, Kylo used the Force to hold him back as he reached for the lightsaber at his hip. The praetorian didn’t stand a chance, and after one swing fell to the glassy black floors motionless.

Kylo’s eyes darted to the larger praetorian holding Kasari. He needed her. He needed an ally that could help him escape the Finalizer. She was a good fighter and, from the looks of it, still loyal to him, unless no one told her that he killed Snoke. Would she continue to serve him if she knew the truth?

He didn’t have the time to find out, for Jaster Ren and the other praetorians made their way into the corridor. Any hope that Kylo had about freeing Kasari faded. He could take on a few praetorians at once, but three of them plus a knight of Ren made things all the more difficult. He stole one final glance at Kasari and the thought of what he was about to do pained him.

Kylo took off down the corridor leaving Kasari, Jaster, and the praetorians in his wake.

The Finalizer now buzzed with activity, as the alert of his treason was made public over the intercom. More than once, Kylo needed to take on a squad of Stormtroopers who happened to be patrolling in the hallway as he ran by. He couldn’t take any chances and risk them alerting the rest of the ship of his location, so he froze them where they stood before coldly slaughtering each and every one without a single afterthought.

After a series of twists and turns and a few elevator rides, he reached the hangar bay, which to his relief was uncharacteristically vacant of troopers and other crew members. Clearly they decided to go searching for him in the inner maze of the star destroyer.

After sucking in a few deep breaths of precious oxygen, chest heaving, sweat dotting his brow, Kylo drew upon every last ounce of energy he possessed and bolted towards his TIE Silencer, located at the far side of the platform with the personal ships of other officers.

As he crossed the middle of the hangar, a red bolt zoomed passed his ear. His position had been compromised, and now he was under heavy fire.

In any other instance, Kylo would have halted their fire in place, freezing each bolt with the Force. But he was exhausted, and there were far too many bolts. The effort needed to stop every single one may risk his life, so he continued to run, relying on his heightened senses to dodge blast after blast.

He almost made it to his ship unscathed when one of the trooper’s blasters struck true and hit him smack dab in the middle of his right shoulder blade.

Pain, violent and hot, spread through his shoulder and down his arm. He could barely hold onto his saber. Trying to cope, Kylo’s breathing quickened and became heavy as blood began trickling from the wound. Still, he pushed on. He was too close to give in now.

When he finally reached the TIE Silencer, he hopped into the sleek, utilitarian cockpit and flipped every switch needed for takeoff. Being the Supreme Leader, he didn’t need clearance to leave, nor was his ship required to be locked when docked. The second his ship was ready, Kylo hit the acceleration and sped full speed out of the hangar bay into the dark expanse of space.

He made it, and as he pushed his ship to its limits, he was now reminded that he needed to find a place to hide. But where could he go where the First Order wouldn’t be able to find him?

After a moment of contemplation, he settled on one very lonely planet. It was off the grid from anyone within the First Order. Plus, this planet had something he had been meaning to follow up on.

After he hastily patched his wound, he punched in the coordinates and made the jump to lightspeed, flying as fast as his ship could take him. To what lay waiting at the first Jedi temple.

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As always, please let me know what you think! I love feedback and story ideas because it helps my writing and makes the story that much stronger. Thank you!

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cathcacen · 7 years

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Rei learns to adjust to life after a traumatic incident: by talking about it, by spinning her story a different way, and by realising that the only way forward is to inspire a drastic change for the after.

She’s tired of being cooped up. It’s been years since she’d last lived at home, and even though both Ethan and Mother try their hardest to keep her company, it feels like they’re all walking on eggshells. Strahan and Father have long since returned to the front, and the house feels too cold without them around. The silence makes her nervous.

None of it feels right, and she’s impatient to move on with her life.

Take your time, Strahan had said. You can start job-hunting if you’d like, but don’t push yourself too hard or too fast.

It’s when she’s trapped at home with nothing to do that the mind wanders. The sensation is wholly unpleasant.

So she puts herself to work. She reaches out to every family contact in medicine and sends her resume to hospitals across the nation. Almost all of them respond with words of encouragement and condolences for her situation. Nine out of ten have no vacancies, and those that do express their concern for her ability to function. By the time she’s exhausted all her resources, she’s secured three interviews for Trauma positions.

She decides on the hospital closest to home, just an hour’s drive away in the Capital. Over the course of the next few days, she compiles all the necessary certifications and letters of recommendation. On the day of her first interview with the Chief of Surgery, she takes to the road in her brother’s convertible and drives. She doesn’t bother covering her face.

It’s still much too early for her appointment when she arrives in the Capital, so she parks the car and heads to their cafe. The waitress from before is there, occupying two tables in a corner with corkboards, fabrics, wallpaper samples, and small pieces of wood and tile. She’s talking quickly into her phone, which is pressed to her ear with a raised shoulder, and her hands move animatedly from this way to that, cutting, stapling, and pinning. Every once in a while, the chef comes out with a spoon; she tastes, offers a quick remark, then goes back to work.

They look so happy, and she can’t help but find their interactions remarkably sweet.

She opens up the paper she’d picked up before from a nearby newsstand. While her coffee cools, she flips through the pages, picking out reports from the war front and studying the segments on the current political climate. Her eyes linger on the feature tucked neatly away in the middle pages of the paper.

Printed in black and white, the photograph heading the story is familiar. She still remembers the day it was taken. It had been hot and sunny. Her old boss stands at the centre of the group, surrounded by his unit of medics. They’re grinning, unaware of the horrors that yet awaited them. She picks out her own face in the group of nine. The girl in the picture isn’t that much younger, but she barely recognises her any more.

The text is fairly straightforward and honest. She recognises the name from the byline, and lets out a quiet chuckle. Shan Ye had sent at least eleven requests for an exclusive interview before she’d finally agreed. They’d met a month ago in her home, and she’d given him the photograph to print.

He’s the only reporter who’s managed to secure a private interview, so she knows he’ll have reaped the rewards of his good work by now. Why, he’d asked her. Why did you agree to see me?

She remembers the crowd outside the airport the day she’d returned. The news and media moguls had gotten word of her return, and by the time the plane had landed, the wolves were gathered at the exit, cameras and microphones and video equipment at the ready. Despite both physical and emotional exhaustion, she’d answered their questions as best she could. They’d been relentless, and she’d eventually turned away into Strahan’s arms, fighting back wave after wave of panicked tears as the lights continued to flash in her direction.

She remembers Shan’s face. How he’d been standing directly before her, camera at the ready. She remembers meeting his eyes, hers tired and teeming with tears, and his darkened by stark realisation. He had every opportunity to expose her weakness, capture her in that moment of vulnerability.

Instead, he’d straightened to re-angle his camera. His was a completely different picture.

She’d told him this when they’d met. I didn’t want to paint you like a victim, that’s all, he’d said, smiling sheepishly.

EXCLUSIVE: CAPTAIN NAVEAU TALKS WAR, PEACE, AND HOPE

The recent rescue at Dzisna has left us as a nation stricken. We have questions, and we want answers. Is a human life worth the protection our secrets and resources? What else has the government and military kept from us? Are there more of our countrymen and loved ones locked away in bunkers and cells, presumed dead to world? At what point do we decide that the price for this war is too high to pay? Shan Ye speaks to the newly-returned Captain Naveau.

She scans through the interview, idly running the edge of the paper against her thumb. He’d been good with the questions, wasting none of his thirty minutes on sensitive or overly personal topics. Instead, he’d focused on the war and its impact on lives on both sides, and she’d appreciated that. Her eyes linger on one particular question, and she has to let out a chuckle at the answer she’d provided.

“That’s classified information,” She’d said. She’d found it funny then, too.

When she’s finished with the paper, she folds it back up and shoves it into her briefcase. There’s still plenty of time, so she asks for a refill and leans back, letting out a sigh.

She still doesn’t know how she’d ended up getting out of the place. Strahan and Ethan had filled her in on most of the details: Information regarding her status and whereabouts had somehow gotten to Uncle, and with an upsurge of increasingly unsavoury news regarding the situation, as well as the camp in which they were kept, the higher ups were under pressure to do something about it. Among the list of prisoners and presumed dead, her name stood out – the news outlets loved it. They ran segments featuring interviews with her old colleagues at the teaching hospital. They called up her family and spoke to her commanders back at the camp.

As it turns out, papers sell like hotcakes when the editors run news on her. She’d read some of the articles. Most had painted a tragic picture: a pretty, popular doctor with a noble desire to serve her country in a time of war. Taken captive by the enemy, presumed dead, but strongly evidenced to be alive. Tortured. Terrified.

She’d only wanted to measure up to her father’s name. She’s nowhere near as noble as the papers want to believe. It makes her feel like shit. Others have suffered too. Others are suffering as we speak, she’d told Shan.

The reporter had provided an opportunity for deeper discussion, and she appreciates his different spin on the subject. It helps to think of herself as more than just the girl who’d done time in Dzisna. I had a life before. I can do it again.

She finishes up her coffee and gets to her feet. The waitress from before catches her eye as she’s paying. She waves, and the waitress waves back.

“So I take it this is your other job?” She smiles at the waitress. Ora, was it?

“Heh, yeah.” Ora jerks her head towards one of her corkboards. “I run the design firm just down the road.”

She takes a moment to study the mood boards. The current aesthetic features seafoam, neutrals, and a rich pine green. She picks up two photographs: a sleek grey couch and a textured wood dining table. “Who’s this place for?”

Ora places her hands on her hips, smiling broadly. “Oh, no one. The owner wanted me to spruce up the apartment before he puts it up for sale, so I’m just doing some light work here.”

“I see.” Excitement surges in her chest. It’s tempered with hope and the possibility of something new – something, and somewhere that isn’t a large, empty home that reminds her of the before.

She knows what she needs. An after, and a place to settle in where she can find a brand new normal.

“Could you put me in contact with the owner? I’d like to put a bid on this place.”

#emmbot writes #anarei ilvait-sagen #ora ethinacae #shan ye #raindrop pendants au

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