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shraddhakhatri · 5 months

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Journey to Tranquility: A Village Trek via Kemje to Everest Panorama

In the heart of the Himalayas, where majestic peaks touch the sky and traditional villages cling to mountainsides, lies a hidden gem known as the Everest Panorama via Kemje Village trek. This off-the-beaten-path adventure promises not only breathtaking views of the world's tallest peaks but also an authentic immersion into the rich culture and serene landscapes that define life in the Everest region. Join us on a virtual journey as we explore the charm and tranquility of this lesser-known trek.

Kemje Village: The Gateway to Himalayan Serenity

Nestled at the beginning of the trek, Kemje Village welcomes trekkers with open arms and traditional hospitality. This quaint village, surrounded by terraced fields and traditional stone houses, serves as the gateway to the Everest Panorama trek. As you meander through its narrow alleys and interact with the friendly locals, you'll witness daily life unfolding against a backdrop of rolling hills and distant mountain peaks.

Scenic Trails and Enchanting Landscapes:

The trek from Kemje Village to Everest Panorama unfolds like a nature lover's dream. The trail takes you through rhododendron forests, offering bursts of color during the spring season. The melody of chirping birds and the rustling of leaves accompany you as you ascend gentle slopes, providing a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Local Encounters and Cultural Immersion:

One of the highlights of this trek is the opportunity to interact with the local communities that call the Everest region home. The villages along the way, such as Khumjung and Khunde, allow trekkers to experience the rich Sherpa culture. Traditional monasteries, prayer flags fluttering in the wind, and encounters with locals adorned in traditional attire create an immersive cultural experience that adds depth to the journey.

Everest Panorama: A Glimpse of Majesty

As you ascend higher, the trek culminates in the Everest Panorama, a vantage point that lives up to its name. From this viewpoint, trekkers are treated to awe-inspiring panoramas of Everest, Lhotse, Nuptse, and Ama Dablam. The sight of these towering peaks against the canvas of the clear Himalayan sky is nothing short of magical, making the journey to Everest Panorama via Kemje Village a truly rewarding experience.

Teahouse Hospitality and Comfort:

Along the trek, teahouses dot the trail, providing comfortable resting spots for trekkers to recharge and enjoy local hospitality. These teahouses offer warm meals, cozy accommodations, and a chance to connect with fellow travelers, creating a sense of camaraderie amidst the mountainous terrain.

Sustainability and Responsible Trekking:

As interest in the Everest Panorama via Kemje Village trek grows, there is a collective effort to promote responsible and sustainable trekking practices. Local initiatives aim to preserve the natural beauty of the region and ensure that future generations can continue to enjoy the tranquility and majesty of the Everest landscape.

Conclusion:

The Everest Panorama via Kemje Village trek invites adventurers to step off the well-trodden paths and discover a Himalayan haven where nature, culture, and tranquility converge. This journey promises not only panoramic views of iconic peaks but also an authentic experience of life in the Everest region. As you traverse the scenic trails and immerse yourself in the local way of life, the Everest Panorama trek via Kemje Village becomes more than a trek; it becomes a soul-stirring exploration of the Himalayan spirit.

#village trek #village trek in nepal #kemje everst panoroma #trekking in nepal #trekking in village #\

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savaravah · 1 year

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Rhododendron Alley | Edwin Mooijaart

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moss2022retireadventure · 2 years

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The Grotto, a field of heather, successfully completing a maze (Neil really does not like mazes) and rhododendron alley

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pangeen · 4 years

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Rhododendron Alley

by Edwin Mooijaart

#Rhododendron Alley #Tyninghame #Haddington #Scotland

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thisismeelephanttrying · 3 years

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After reading the book, I feel fortunate enough to across his heritage of that lifetime. He must have a beautiful heart in conclusion of a floating soul in a heavy world.

"In all his writing, the world of concrete objects carries its full common sense of pleasure and hardship, of beauty and blight. At the same time, his philosophical turn of mind involves him in a real struggle of ideas, one usually carried on by closed mings and obscured by fuzzy words. This struggle pits the "materialists" with their rational methods against the "idealists" with their intuitive or spiritual insights."

"Or rather he tells us all over again that the true battle lies within us and calmly transfers the struggle to the slopes of an interior mountain which we must climb. Most of us find that a harder task than carrying on a rousing battle with an ideological enemy."

"And neither of them took cover behind the convenient shrubbery of the "ineffable"; words brought their trials and their triumphs. Daumal's work follows Nerval's in its resolve to fuse body and spirit, speech and sleep, logic and intuition, in order to enter a "second life".

'"Nerval, however, prepared himself increasingly to disappear for good into that other world, and finally hung himself in a Paris alley. Daumal, somewhat less afflicted, or blessed, with night vision, resolutely returned to this world, his eyes seeking light again, his mind struggling to tell what he had seen."

"We must first become human before seeking anything superior."

"The Westerner tends by tradition to think of grasping the meaning of life through certain crucial experiences - death, grief, danger, passionate love, sudden success, catastrophe. Existentialism has aptly termed them "extreme situations", in reference to which we discover ourselves - whence our attraction to the adventurous life, war, scientific progress, romantic love. Having cast his mind deep into Indian philosophy, Daumal senses that the reality and meaning of the world can come to us at every moment without having to rely wholly on extreme situations to wrench us into awareness. Action, as has been pointed out many times, is for Westerners both stimulant and drug. The four stages of Hindi initiation, from the Vedas to the Upinshads, and the complementary disciplines of Yoga and Zen, prepare us not for a career of great exploits to be recalled in old age, but for a life increasingly dedicated to "the teaching which cuts through illusion."

"He understood very early that the basic act of consciousness is a negation, a dissociation of the I from the exterior world of not -I. Meaningful perception reduces and refines the I, withdraws it from the world into an increasingly strict identity or subjectivity. Then, however, beginning a vibratory rhythm which must follow if self-annihilation is not to result, the pure consciousness expands again into all things, experiences the world subjectively once more, loses itself in the mystery of creation."

Asceticism

"Man achieves inner spiritual progress by his own efforts, by a human discipline that is not a gift of god and can be learned from other men further advanced on the path of knowledge. Teaching and initiation are central to all religions and cultures. Within a system where no truth comes by divine revelation but only by human attainment, the sense of a tradition of knowledge comes to support the entire structure of life.... And thus Daumal spoke un-flinchingly of a Doctrine, meaning not a narrow set of rituals or dogmas, not art for art's sake in aesthetics, not a fixed philosophical position, but a number of paths leading to the same goal: a higher form of life."

Peradam

"Mount Analogue, the novel, has the force of a curving and uncurving lens for our minds. Through it, we can glimpse that "other world" of which Nerval spoke, and Spinoza and Socrates. And yet it is hard to look through it, for so limpid a substance almost escapes one's attention even when it is right under one's eyes. One could conceivably read ever word of the book without seeing a thing."

"And from deep within me, like a bubble, rose the admission that my life had become all too stagnant lately. Thus, when I opened the letter, I could not be sure whether it affected me like a breath of fresh air or like a disagreeable draught."

"I had written in substance that in the mythic tradition the Mountain is the bond between Earth and Sky. Its solitary summit reaches the sphere of eternity, and its base spreads out in manifold foothills into the world of mortals. It is the way by which man can raise himself to the divine, and by which the divine reveals itself to man."

" ... a general discussion of symbols, which I divided into two classes: those subject to law of proportion, and those subject only to the law of scale as well.... "Proportion" concerns the relations between dimensions of a structure, "scale" the relations between these dimensions and those of the human body. An equilateral triangle, symbol of the Trinity, has exactly the same value no matter what its dimensions; it has no "scale". On the other hand consider an exact model of a cathedral a few inches in height. This object will always convey, through its shape and proportions, the intellectual meaning of the original structure, even if some details have to be examined under a magnifying glass. But it will no longer produce anything like the same emotion or the same response: it is no longer "to scale". And what defines the scale of the ultimate symbolic mountain - The one I propose to call Mount Analogue- is its inaccessibility to ordinary human approaches. .......

For a mountain to play the role of Mount Analogue, I concluded, its summit must be inaccessible but its base accessible to human beings as nature has made them. It must be unique and it must exist geographically. The door to the invisible must be visible."

" You understand that you and I have such grave decisions to make, with such a far-reaching consequences for our lives, that we can't start by taking shots in the dark. We'll have to get to know each other. Today we can walk around together, talk, eat, and be silent together. Later I believe we'll have the opportunity to act and suffer together. All is that necessary to "make someone's acquaintance" as they say."

"Up to that point I had always spotted those second-hand Satans. They were so naive and always tried the same tricks, poor devils. Their entire approach consisted of variations on a few fundamental falsehoods every one knew, such as:"To obey the letter of the rules in only for imbeciles who cannot understand their spirit". Or :"With my health, alas, I cannot attempt such hardships."

" Life dealt with me a little the way an organism treats a foreign body: it was obviously trying either to encyst me or to expel me, and for my own part I yearned for "something else" .... I readjusted little by little to contemporary life, but only externally, it's true. For, when you come down to it, I can't bring myself to fall in with this monkey-cage agitation which people so dramatically call life. ..... Fake, all fake. I can't say one of those cards: here's a truth, one small but certain truth. In the whole show there's nothing but mystery and error. Where one ends, the other begins."

Since Logos is quite crazy in his assumption because everything was merely made in his mind. He is as if a scientist making a hypothesis totally out of intuition and initiated a whole journey to test it; that is the reason why I found this description pretty cool "We all sat stunned by the audacity and logical power of this deduction. Everyone kept silent and everyone was convinced."

"The path to our highest desires often lies through the undesirable."

" If I were to tell this story the way history is usually written or the way each of us recalls his own past, which means recording only the most glorious moments and inventing a new continuity for them, I should omit these little details and say that our eight stout hearts drummed from morning to night in time with a single all-encompassing desire - or some such lie. But the flame which kindles desire and illuminates thought never burned for more than a few seconds at a stretch. The rest of the time we tried to remember it."

I do not know why but this author did have a sense of humor with all of his mockery and ironicness.

"Some people say they have always existed and will exist forever. Others say they are the dead. And others say that, as a sword has its scabbard or a foot its imprint, every living man has in the mountain his Hollow-Man, which he will seek out in death."

"No one has ever been able to catch it, for the tiniest tremor of fear anywhere close by alerts it, and it disappears into the rock. Even if one desires it, one is a little afraid of possessing it, and it vanishes. .... It's like looking for night in broad daylight."

"But in our relations with the superior beings of Mount Analogue, what would be suitable for barter? What did we possess of real value? With what could we pay for the new knowledge we were seeking? Would we have to accept it as charity? or on credit?"

"At the same time as we decided to leave our heavy equipment on the coast, we were also preparing to leave behind the artist, the inventor, the doctor, the scholar, the writer. Beneath the old disguises new men and new women began to show the tips of their ears. Men and women, and all kinds of other creatures as well."

"In the mountains a man becomes very attentive to any sign indicating the presence of one of his fellow men. That distant smoke was particularly moving for us, a greeting sent us by strangers climbing ahead of us on the same trail. For from now on the trail linked our fate to theirs, even if we were never to meet. Bernard knew nothing about them."

Rhododendron

"At the end I want to speak at length of one of the basic laws of Mount Analogue. To reach the summit, one must proceed from encampment to encampment. But before setting out for the next refuge, one must prepare those coming after to occupy the place one is leaving. Only after having prepared them can one go on up. That is why, before setting out for a new refuge, we had to go back down in order to pass on our knowledge to other seekers..."

"Probably Rene Daumal would have made clear what he meant by this work of preparation. For in his daily life he devoted himself to preparing many minds for the difficult voyage toward Mount Analogue. The title of his last chapter was to be: "And you, what do you seek?.... To face it directly is to strike against the deepest layer of being which sleeps within us, and then one must listen painfully and lucidly to the sound it sends back."

"By our calculations - thinking of nothing else - by our desires - abandoning every other hope - by our efforts - renouncing all bodily comfort - we gained entry into this new world. So it seemed to us. But we learned later that if we were able to approach Mount Analogue, it was because the invisible doors of that invisible country had been opened for us by those who guard them. The cock crowing in the milky dawn thinks its call raises the sun; the child howling in a closed room thinks its cries cause the door to open. But the sun and the mother follow courses set by the laws of their own beings. Those who see us even though we cannot see them opened the door for us, answering our puerile calculations, our steady desires, and our awkward efforts with a generous welcome."

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volleyball-dontknowher · 4 years

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@milkteeboba you are so cuteeee oh my gosh this was fun to write for and I hope that you enjoy it so much!!!

MATCHUPS ARE CLOSED!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

i LOVE YOU ALL PLEASE DON’T THINK ANY OF THIS IS BECAUSE i AM BEING MEAN, THE MATCH-UPS JUST TAKE A LOT OUT OF ME BECAUSE I HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE YOU AND ALSO THE BOYS AT THE SAME TIME AND ITS A LOT SO PLEASE BE KIND!

I match you up with… Nishinoya

Okay so he has seen you around several times before and has been crushing on you since first sight, he thinks that you are so pretty like he cannot stand it, all he wants to do is kiss you and run his fingers through your hair as you two embrace and he cups your cheeks. He cannot get the thought of you out of his mind like it actually makes him nervous because he’s never really felt like this before and he usually doesn’t get stuck thinking about people like that, so he talks it out with Tanaka and Asahi and they both tell him that he likes you and his brain malfunctions, so the next time he sees you he does what he always does when he likes someone tells them that they are pretty. Except when you blushed and thanked him, his heart almost beat out of his chest and suddenly he was blushing too, it was so unlike anything else that he had ever happen that he was for once speechless. After that, he started talking to you more and more trying to get to know you, at first he asked the easy questions like favorite color or favorite restaurant (he remembers all of your answers and even wrote it in a little journal) and then he kept asking you tougher and tougher questions getting to see the true side of you before one day he just blurted out “would you want to go on a date with me?” and he froze in his tracks and so did you, but of course you said yes, it had only taken him long enough

The first date was like you two had been dating forever, you went bowling and then shared some horrible bowling alley fries before getting ice cream and it just blossomed into your perfect relationship

Your dates are spontaneous and fun and he always manages to make you smile with how attentive to details he is with everything like you will tell him what you want from a restaurant and he will frown at you and tell you that you don’t like an ingredient in that and it won’t be what you want and you’re stubborn so sometimes you will order what you thought and he is always right like he can choose out the perfect thing for you from every place

He also pays attention to your flowers like he is going to tell you that your rhododendron is about to bloom and will keep track of it for you, he also is happy to water the flowers for you any time and he will sometimes get you cut flowers but the majority of the time he is going to get you cute little flowers in their own special pots to add to your little garden and he makes sure that you know how they are supposed to be taken care of because he wants them to be super big and pretty

He is also super supportive of all of your hobbies like he will be out with you and be like oh my gosh Y/N that would be a perfect picture right there and will help you get the perfect shot even if that means that he has to get dirty for it, in the end it is worth it

He also gets your pictures and art framed and printed as surprises for you, sometimes he doesn't even tell you he just hangs it up and you notice apparently a few weeks later confused and shocked and he is like oh yeah it’s beautiful so I hung it

During the day Yuu is a ball of energy and could go go go with you but at night he likes his chill time too so the two of you have a little bit of quiet time where you both do things by yourselves to unwind and just relaxes, which usually gets interrupted by Noya climbing into your lap asking what you were doing and telling you that he was getting hungry so the two fo you should cook dinner together and that is always so sweet like he is going to help you meal prep and will do anything you need to make delicious meals for the two of you

Noya goes hard against you in video games like he shows no sympathy and if you keep losing he is going to just smile at you and kiss your cheek because you are so cute for thinking you could win against a master like him, then he tells you that he wants to change it to a different game because he is bored of winning (then he purposely throws a couple of rounds on the new game to help you feel better but he wouldn’t tell you that)

The two of you work out together sometimes and it is always so hard to keep up with Noya like he is an endless ball of energy who doesn’t get tired so he could just run and run and when you tap out he is always like oh, okay sure and you two turn around, he talks the whole time but it is super annoying because he never gets short of breath, he is definitely always there if you want to workout with him

Boba dates with Noya are so adorable like he is going to order the most random combo’s and it is going to sound disgusting but somehow it is your new favorite every time? You swear that he looks this up online or something but he never does, he just shrugs and tells you that he is that good

Your energies play off of each other really well like you both know how to hype each other up and also how to calm the other down and make them feel loved, the two of you are peas in a pod and everyone who sees you as a couple literally melts because it just fits so well

You in his sweatshirts is adorable like he loves knowing that you are wearing things that are his and that you look so cute like that and he just loves it

You will be forced to wear dumb matching outfits with him at least once like he will beg you to because he thinks that it is adorable and you

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silent19dreams · 4 years

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SIKKIM : Through The Eyes Of a Traveller

SIKKIM a small state of India is no less than a heaven on earth.Its the second smallest sate . Its Its Natural Beauty is just unbelievable.It is a Land of Rugged Mountains, Deep Valleys, Dense Forests , Rivers , Lakes , waterfalls, Monasteries and Pagoda – style Houses.The Buddhist monasteries, fluttering prayer flags, lush green mountain valley and cheerful people make Sikkim one of the loveliest travel destinations.

HOW TO REACH

The nearest airport to Gangtok is Bagdogra (near Siliguri, West-Bengal). Bagdogra is connected to most major airports of India.

The nearest railway station is New Jalpaiguri (NJP), which is a major railway station of the region.

Reaching gangtok takes 4 hours , all time along the teesta river .

WEATHER

Summer in Sikkim

Summer is considered to be the ideal time to explore this elegant state; Sikkim. During this season, the nature is at its best. This season is great for trekking too. You get a chance to see blooming field of orchids and rhododendrons at the foot of the mountains and also by the side of winding ways going up to the hills.

Monsoon in Sikkim

During monsoon, the state experience heavy rainfall throughout the months. While July be the wettest of all. Travelling by roads become obstructable and dangerous. The season is not much of an ideal time to visit the place but becomes best for bird watching and to visit waterfalls.

PLACES TO VISIT

GANGTOK

It's popular for its mountains, nature and trekking. Gangtok is visited by most people in the months of January, April, July and December. It's medium popularity. Getting more and more popular with time.It can be the cleanest city and the most organized one but the government is making efforts to improve the conditions. The city is a fascinating place to spend a few nights, the winding side alleys hide some unexpected gems, and the main street (MG Marg) is pedestrianized and a pleasant place to take a stroll.

TO DO

Take a walk along the road to Raj Bhavan with a view of the Gangtok City.

Walk to Hanuman tok from Ganesh tok.Take the ropeway (cable car) for a bird's eye view of the city. The ropeway line runs from Tashiling Secratariat near Ridge Park down to Deorali and vice versa.

Near the lower ropeway station you can visit the Namgyal Institute of Tibetology and Do Drul Chorten stupa.

MG Marg

If you are in Gangtok, you must spent your evening in MG Marg. The road is lined up with glittering shops, restaurants, cafes & bars on both sides. Many tourists take a table on a roadside restaurant and watch the activities on the street. You must try Momo from any of this roadside restaurant. It’s like a carnival like atmosphere out here. The entire area is free of litter, smoke and vehicle. It’s a pedestrian only zone and vehicles are not allowed on this approximately 1km stretch of the road. If you are coming in the month of December, you can experience the Annual Gangtok Food and Culture Festival at M.G. Marg.

SOUTH SIKKIM SIGHTSEEING

Temi Tea Garden

The view was awesome. The tea garden stretches out all over a mild hill slope that begins from the Tendong Hill and creates the scope of a majestic view of the nearby terraced slopes and villages. The approach road and surroundings are filled with pine and prune trees and there are numerous walking trails all around.There is a small shop in front of the garden where one can sit & enjoy this beautiful place over a cup of tea. One can also buy different types of tea & other products here.

Chardham

It is a huge cultural complex, developed by Sikkim government. It is located 5km away from Namchi town. Though the whole place was amazing, the 87 feet tall statue of Lord Shiva mesmerized us a lot. There are replicas of twelve Jyotirlingas to offer one platform to all devotees of Shiva, as well as replicas of the four dhams

PELLING SIGHTSEENG

Rabdentse Ruins

Rabdentse is the 16th former capital of Sikkim & now lies in ruins. It was destroyed after the Nepalese invasion in the 18th century. Now one can see only the stone structures of the fort. To reach to the fort one has to walk around 1.5 km from the road. It can be a great experience to walk through such a dense forestry area. The northern part of the fort was the palace area while the southern part was the religious area for the common people. There are three stupas here on a stone platform which were built for the royal family to worship.

Kanchenjunga Fall

This is the most famous tourist stop of pelling a state of sikkim and is must see .

Khecheopalri Lake

This is a sacred lake & is believed to fulfil one’s wishes. The lake is surrounded by forests. The water in the lake remains clean all through the year. It is believed that the birds of the region never let any dirt or impurity surface the water and pick it up as soon as anything falls on it. And truly, you would never find even a single leaf floating on the surface. A wooden boardwalk lead us to the lake. We have removed our footwear before walking on it. Numerous prayer wheels are lined up along the boardwalk.

RAVANGLA SIGHTSEEING

Buddha Park

The face of the statue is coated with 3.5kgs of gold. It is the tallest metal statue of Buddha in India. It was the day of Buddhapurnima. The prayer and the humming sound of “Om Mani Padme Hum” inside the monastery touched our soul. Though we had missed the view of Mt. Kanchenjunga from here due to cloudy weather, the awesome looks of mountains and forests surrounded by this area had mesmerized us.

FAMOUS FOOD ITEMS TO EAT

Momo (Dumplings) Thukpa or Gya Thuk Phagshapa Sha Phaley Gundruk Dhindo

CUSTOMS AND TRADITIONS

Sikkim is a unique blend of different religion, customs and traditions of different communities. In the ancient times, Sikkim was occupied by three tribes; Naong, Chang and the Mon. But with the course of time, the inhabitants of the nearby countries became a major inhabitant of the state. That includes the Lepchas; the clan of Nagas from Tibet, are one of the tribal groups, the Bhutias; the descendents of Buddhists from Tibet and the Nepalese; the descendents of the Hindus from Nepal, which now dominates the considerable portion of the Sikkim’s population. And hence, Nepali is the most common among all the languages in Sikkim. The Tibetan Bhutias, secured their deep rooted ties to the tradition and belief since the last three centuries they had been settled in Sikkim.

“A person does not grow from the ground like a vine or a tree, one is not part of a plot of land. Mankind has legs so it can wander.

So lets get up and explore the world which is waiting for us .....

SNIGDHA PANDEY

#travell #sikkim #food #tradition #hope you enjoy

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lorspolairepeluche · 4 years

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Favorite Writing 2019

ringing out this dumpster fire of a year by talking about the nice things i made during it. 2019 was pretty good for writing, having contained two-thirds of my last year of college (including my final portfolio for my creative writing major). under the cut are several handfuls of my favorite lines/passages/whatever i’ve written this year, sorted by what they’re from.

from Laudata Fidelis

“Lafi…”

The whisper is strangled, nearly gone, but it pierces its way into Lafi’s ears, and she turns her head on the ground, tearing her eyes from Killough’s sword, just in time to see Gendra’s hand outstretched for her. Lafi smiles, a small, bitter thing. We died together fourteen years ago too, didn’t we? “Close your eyes, Gendra.” This will be no crack on the head. There will be no surviving this.

Lafi considers for a moment before asking him the same question she asked his wife two weeks before: “Do you think I’m Aegri?”

She sees René look at her again out of the corner of her eye, head cocked like a curious dog’s. Finally, he asks, “Does it matter if I do or don’t? For that matter, does it matter if you are?”

“If you’re not open to change, sometimes change opens you,” René murmurs. When Lafi gives him a raised eyebrow and quirked mouth, he adds, “I mean, in the opens-you-from-neck-to-navel sense. It’s not a pretty metaphor. It’s what change did to me when I wasn’t ready.”

“That pack we were hunting last week has been a thorn in our side for ages. We got most of ‘em, oh, nine or so years back? But Claudia got clawed—ha, clawed—she’d kill me for laughing at that—got clawed up pretty bad. Lost that eye.”

[Nagendra. Thursday 10:28 am] The hunters corner Rene and are about to shoot him when (as he tells it) Justy shows up out of nowhere swinging a baseball bat and hollering HOME RUN as she cracks one across the back of his head.

[Me. Thursday 10:28 am] Holy shit.

[Nagendra. Thursday 10:28 am] Honestly when I heard that I knew exactly why Rene fell in love with her.

Justy’s really just an ordinary human who got caught up in this. She’s taken to it like a duck to water, but how did a woman ignorant enough to hit a hunter in the head with a baseball bat—yelling “home run,” no less—become the serious, motherly Guillory she is? (Does she still have the baseball bat?)

Killough has grabbed the creature’s focus and holds it tight as he says, “Hello. Goodbye.”

Lafi feels the magic move in the air—and settle in her arms. She looks up at Killough, shocked—is he setting the thing on me?—and is looking at the barrel of Killough’s pistol. “Killo—”

He fires.

Lafi’s ears ring with the sound of the shot for a few seconds before she realizes the sudden difference: the weight in her arms is heavier. The cub isn’t just asleep anymore, not with a bullet trail clear through its skull and its blood seeping into Lafi’s shirt.

“Wow, Laffy, are all your friends as rude as you?” Bridget asks snidely.

“Yes,” Lafi deadpans. “Absolutely gauche. Please get out of my seat.”

“I think it’s you who’s being rude.” Nagendra doesn’t raise her voice, but it catches everyone’s attention anyway as she steps just a little closer to Taylor. It’s dark and almost sibilant, and Lafi glances at her in alarm. Please don’t do anything stupid. “After all, there were already lunch trays at these seats.” Her face is neutral, maybe even an inch into pleasant, and somehow unnerving. “With food on them.” She leans down, just a little. “Our food.” It hits Lafi like lightning exactly why Nagendra’s so unsettling: she has let her pupils change to snakelike slits. “So please. May we have our seats back?”

Lafi Ness’s List Of Facts

One, Nagendra is half-dragon.

Two, I am a mage.

Three, I’ve known Nagendra for a week and a half, and only because the people Nagendra lives with kidnapped me.

Four, Nagendra does not have a crush on me.

Five. I do not have a crush on Nagendra.

Lafi’s sure that if she were a cartoon, her eyes would have sparkles in them as she watches Nagendra raise her arms above her head, relaxing before flexing her shoulders. Wings erupt from her shoulder blades, at first stumps, then small, folded things, then flaring out into true, membranous wings. Scales peek out from her skin, starting at her wing joints and adding one by one in an outward wave, over her shoulders and her arms until they cover her fingers and grow claws to replace her fingernails, down her torso to her legs as she kicks off her shoes and her feet become clawed too, up her neck and shooting up the sides of her face. When she blinks her eyes open, her pupils are slits again, and horns grow out from under her hair as she rolls her neck, her shoulders, her ankles, flares her wings until they settle to fold on her back. Nagendra shrugs awkwardly, a stark contrast to the grace of her transformation. “Well — what do you think?”

“I think…that was incredible,” Lafi breathes.

Nagendra flares her wings. “Come on. Let me show you how they work.”

“Oh, are there extra pectoral muscles to make them fla—AAAAAAHHHHHH!” Lafi’s question makes a quick swan-dive into a holler of fright as her feet suddenly leave the ground, Nagendra’s hands firmly holding hers as she takes off. “Ow!” she shouts as soon as her vertigo has passed. “Do you know how much that hurts my shoulders?”

“You big baby! I do this with Will all the time!”

“Will’s like, six! I’m much larger than her, and my shoulders are probably way less…mobile…”

“We’ll say I fought her and won,” Gloria says. “Elliot will believe that.”

“Not if it looks like I won.” Claudia flicks her wand, and Gloria slams back the few inches into the wall. “You two kids escaped during the fight, got that?” She almost has a gleam of amusement in her eye as Gloria groans more in annoyance than pain.

“Oh, so I see we’re going right back to the old days,” Gloria mutters, standing up and dusting herself off. “What are you two waiting for? Go!”

The dragon — it’s hard to think of her as Amy just yet — awkwardly shuffles around to let her head face Lafi. “I can at least get my wings spread this way — wow. Wings. I have wings.”

Despite every other dire thing happening outside this alley, Lafi can’t help but grin at the sight of the dragon’s snout scrunching up like her nose does in human form. Okay, yeah. That’s Amy.

She barely has time to look at Nagendra and smile and say, “Hey,” before Gendra closes the three steps’ distance to the bed, grabs Lafi’s chin — not ungently — and kisses her.

It’s kind of an awkward position for Lafi, so she just grabs Nagendra’s arm with one hand and hangs on for dear life as the kiss extends into way longer than their first one did. Gloria finally has to cough to let them know she’s still there.

Nagendra only pulls away to say, “You and Claudia were nonstop PDA that night in the lobby,” before going right back to kissing Lafi.

Lafi breaks away just a few seconds later to laugh. “Wow. Did you miss me that bad?”

“Look, I’ve gotten all of one chance before now to do that, and it was right after I almost died.” Nagendra presses her lips to Lafi’s forehead this time. “So sue me for being impatient to do it again.”

She still can’t walk loosely, or she pulls on the healing scar, even though the stitches are gone, but it’s worth it to push open the door to the office, bow over-dramatically, and say, “Baroness.”

“Shut up,” Gloria says good-naturedly after she swallows a gulp of her coffee.

“The pack says you’ve been hanging out at their house every weekend.”

“Yeah, uh, they’re my friends.” Lafi shrugs.

“And you would probably like us to not hunt your girlfriend?” Gloria sips from her coffee again, eyebrows raised pointedly over the mug.

Lafi’s face heats up, but she manages a level, “That would…be nice.”

from “The Apple and the Rose”

SNOW (CONT’D.)

I would like a bridge, please.

She steps out — and her foot is met by branches twisting themselves into a bridge. Little flowers bloom along the sides as Snow makes her way over the stream. Briar grins.

BRIAR

You’re a natural.

SNOW

Only following suit. Are you coming?

Briar follows Snow across the bridge, and from her first step, the bridge changes to mahogany where she touches it, rhododendron flowers bloom from the sides, and it becomes polished, as if newly built by hand and not by imagination. Briar changes too. For a longer moment than before, with chin held high, hand elegantly grazing along the handrail, and back straight and proud, she is the hundred-year-old queen she was meant to be.

Then she steps off the bridge, and the moment is gone, but she is smiling now.

BRIAR

It’s the way to break my curse. After one hundred years...true love’s kiss. You’re that true love, Snow. If I kiss you... I wake up. And I leave you here. Alone.

Snow considers, her eyes on Briar’s. Briar is desperate with her dilemma.

Snow steps forward, takes Briar’s face in her hands, and pulls her down to kiss her. Despite what she’s just said, Briar holds her close and kisses her harder.

After a few seconds, Snow breaks the kiss, puts her finger on Briar’s lips, and whispers:

SNOW

Find me.

CUT TO:

INT. BRIAR’S BEDROOM - DAY

CLOSE ON BRIAR’S FACE

Briar’s eyes fly open.

from “Intelligence,” pilot episode of Star Trek: Magellan

K’RALTA

You have your orders, Krya.

Krya shoots K’Ralta a glare.

KRYA

SoH Hu’tegh petaQ.

Her statement startles Sloan, but she doesn’t notice as she storms past him out of the office.

K’RALTA

You’ll have to excuse the Commander. I don’t think she’s aware you understand Klingon.

SLOAN

…Sir?

K’RALTA

A shame, really, that she doesn’t put more effort into learning to curse properly, when that’s mostly what she does when she speaks Klingon.

TASOVA

This isn’t the first ship named Enterprise I’ve ever served on. Yeah. I served under Kirk. Patched him up several times, too. So don’t doubt me, Lieutenant: any fight you tell me about, Kirk was in it first.

MAGELLAN

I was programmed from the first to understand that not everyone would accept me as more than the standard computer, and certainly not as a person.

Arisawa frowns, but turns back to her stage.

ARISAWA

(still yelling)

Well, if you can choose a favorite rock song, you’re a person by my reckoning! Come on!

She runs back out to center stage, slinging the guitar’s strap around her neck and skidding to a halt before—

CLOSE ON GUITAR

—striking a chord.

from the untitled story of Team MCHN and Team WBAT

Helia and Celeste and Nebula follow Taiyang, but Matu doesn’t need his guidance at all; they follow the path their heart remembers, even if every step hurts because they know what they’ll find at the end of it—and what they won’t find.

The door comes into sight, and they’re almost surprised to find that Boreas has kept it painted the same midnight blue.

The door comes into sight, and a shard of the past stabs into their heart—the window next to it isn’t fogged with the steam from the kettle.

The door comes into sight, and Matu’s muscle memory stops them short, expecting a bright-eyed blond girl to come crashing out the door and right into them, yelling for a sparring match.

The door does not open. Ourana isn’t there. The shard in Matu’s heart twists.

from the untitled story of Siobhan Killdeer, Sawbones Alchemist

“I was going to get my State Alchemist certification then too, but…well, I was a medic in Ishval. I didn’t want to be another human weapon.”

“Aren’t you a medical alchemist? They would have kept you on as a medic, right?”

Siobhan looked up at Edward, and her bright, casual tone disappeared. “Yes. I’m a medical alchemist. I know all the best ways to heal the human body. I also know all the worst ways to hurt it. Which do you think the bastards would have had me using in a war of extermination?”

“I’ve never…I don’t know best what to say here, but I want to put that ring on your finger. If you’ll have me.”

“I already said yes.” Siobhan’s arms curl around his chest, making sure he can feel as much of her as possible above his waist. “I’ll have you. Every inch of you, Jean Havoc, if you’ll have me in return.”

“Of course. I hope I always will.”

“Jean, one more thing before I fall asleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Shave your goddamn chin mange. I’m not marrying you with that awful beard.”

He rumbles with laughter against her, and she lets out a laugh of her own on a breath as he says, “Maybe when you get back again. See if you like it then.”

“I won’t, I promise.” And echoed in the words: I’ll come back. I promise.

from various “found” poetry cobbled together for a class winter term

a pale king

the voice says faintly, “Ah...my greatest failure.” no regard for what you could be, Are you sorry? sharp and angry. I thought I had paid the perfect cost Yes. Yes, I am sorry. (you never said that) “Father,”

Volatile Explosives

“So when did you build a cannon?” I was insane. a genius, “Genius he may be, but he’s still off his fucking rocker.” Yes, that’s true. But about the cannon… It’ll break after just one shot. “One shot?” I’ll try not to make any mistakes. “Ah, excellent!” What do you think? “About what?”

All Lit Up (And I Start To Smile)

This is gonna be a train wreck of happiness.

It’s many hundred miles, and it won’t be long.

If you hear sirens, come kiss me goodbye.

So if you need me…start screaming.

I’m out of my head, of my heart, of my mind.

Don’t sacrifice temporal accuracy for enthusiasm.

Don’t let me falter; don’t let me hide; don’t let the earth in me subside.

Do not go far from me.

I have lived o’er my lives without number.

If we’re going to be damned, let us be damned for what we really are.

Get busy growing or stand in place and decay.

Nor are you just another biological organism.

The universe is expanding, and so should you.

Why change the past when you can own this day?

Drive blind on an untethered joyride through hell.

Sound the horn and call the cry;

I can hear your voices bouncing off the moon.

It’s still you looking out.

Life needs things to live.

Life needs love to live.

Long may your innocence reign,

And God bless the grass.

Be bold. Be brave. Be courageous. Black alert.

Tinkerty tonk.

from “Emma,” a retelling of Bluebeard

She reaches to the very back of her closet as soon as she gets to her room and yanks out a wooden hanger with black draped over it. She dons the three-piece suit carefully. This is her wedding attire, not the stupid, flouncy dress she wore to marry him. This is what she would have worn to marry Lizzie.

Lizzie who has absolutely no reason to come after Emma, or to call 911, or to even listen to the messages she left. Lizzie who she left when she cowed to Mom’s insistence. Poor Lizzie. Poor, dearest Lizzie. Emma blows a kiss out the window for her. It feels like too little, too late.

from “Patrick, Donald, and the Great Ride,” a short play written for the family reunion in August

DONALD: He searched us. What, did he think we were smuggling guns in? Tequila? Bubblegum?

from “Drawing From...: On Writing, Life, and the Writing Life,” the introductory essay to my final portfolio

My kindergarten pièce de résistance was written in a fit of pique. Mrs. Steuber had read us a poem about a teddy bear, fluffy and perfect—except it was far from perfect. It was a brown teddy bear, and I knew better than the author that white teddy bears were the way to go, evidenced by my own beloved Snowball. So, armed with colorful markers, I rewrote the poem to be about the proper color bear.

Eighteen years later, a lot of my writing comes from the same well of indignation inside me.

There’s really no other way to come up with the line “I cast ‘healing word’ on Big Thokk, and the word is ‘dumbass’” than when my kleptomaniac traveling partner knocks himself out trying to steal gems and I, the long-suffering healer, have to get him back on his feet.

Echoes and echoes and echoes, from Ancient Greece to mid-20th-century Maryland, to 21st-century Illinois.

And as I write this, I’m in a minivan with my friends, Peter driving us to Chicago as Marion plays “This Year” by the Mountain Goats from her phone, and we sing along with gusto: “I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me!” Well, hopefully it won’t kill me. I’ll take a step back, a breath, make sure I have my words with me, and treat the cliff as a starting block like every one I’ve dove off to begin a race. Even if I don’t know what I’m swimming when I hit the water—or if I’ll hit the water at all—I’ll step up, I’ll take my mark, and I’ll go.

i’ll end there; i think “this year” is an appropriate place to end 2019. happy new year, you series of disasters of a decade. you made me who i am; thanks for that. i’m going on ahead now.

(i am gonna make it through this year if it kills me...)

#formatting the screenplay stuff was a bitch and a half and i HOPE it works right #shhh the bear's writing #happy new year #looking at this w the rainbow blockquotes extension is....really nice lmao

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zacklover24 · 4 years

Note

For the flower asks: daisy, rhododendron, and gladiolus. 💐😁

daisy - what’s your best childhood memory?

Going to disney for the first time. Going into magic kingdom, and just seeing everything. My dad really treated me, on that trip. It made me feel so happy. That and going on test track for the first time, and having a blast.

rhododendron - what’s your biggest fear?

Spider, I will block and unfollow anyone who posts spiders.

gladiolus - who do you look up to most?

To be honest, Carrie Fisher. She was an actress, and had no fucks to give. She played General Leia so well, and was just there for kids who had mental health issues. From what I hear she would spend time in artist alleys of cons buying stuff and being a queen. I miss her.

I also love Mark Hamill. He was and still is an amazing joker. He is the reason why I alwayes want to know who is voicing who. Mark carre and as a person is just him being a good bean.

#the-neigh-sayer #flower asks #ask game

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ectothermal · 5 years

Text

dirk knows exactly what do when the soft, silken petals start collecting in his mouth: he chews them up and chokes them right back down.

"pretty dumbshit move," hal comments. "you could be eating rhododendron or belladonna right now. oleander. monkshood. lily of the valley." hal continues to list off poisonous flowers until dirk, annoyed, spits a bright purple wad into the palm of his glove.

over the next few months, dirk gets used to the flowers sprouting up his throat, filling his mouth with petals and leaves. learns how to discreetly deal with them before he joins his friends in the session with something to hide. hal blithely reports that the flowers are hyacinth, representing jake clearly in its symbolism of playfulness, sportiness, rashness; hal continues that the purple flowers beg forgiveness.

"how?" asks dirk.

"apollo accidentally murdered hyakinthos with a discus, and in his regret turned him into the flower, as the myth goes," says hal. "not to be that guy, but this doesn't sound very promising."

"i have it handled, thanks," dirk murmurs.

after they kiss, the flowers subside... for a while. they never quite disappear, but dirk finds himself breathing easier, choking and coughing less often. with jake's mouth on his, exchanging rough, hot kisses, or with jake's cock pumping deep inside him, he can almost believe he's cured. that jake loves him back, real and true.

of course it could never last, and dirk knew that before it ever started, before roots ever took in his chest at all. he's not the kind of guy people stay in love with; he's neurotic and touch-starved and needy, yet couched in barrier after barrier of guarded calculation.

jake pulls away, little by little. dirk can't say he didn't expect it, but he can't say he isn't desperate to stop it from happening either.

his messages are left on read more often than not. when dirk says "i love you," insistent and uncharacteristically vulnerable, jake laughs awkwardly and says "yeah, you too."

so, all over again, he chokes.

and he swallows.

and he chokes.

he hasn't seen jake in weeks by the time the stems wind their way into his mouth, thick with little blooms that make his labored breath wheeze and whistle. they shift when he swallows, but it's useless - they're stuck in his throat, heavy like the sensation of holding back tears.

"get jake here," he rasps to hal.

"aren't you afraid?" hal asks.

"i have it handled." dirk sets his glasses aside to cut off the argument before it begins; his time is limited, and he's not about to waste any more of it arguing with himself.

minutely trembling fingers reach into the back of his throat, wrapping firm around a stem as far back as he can reach. drool spills from his lower lip as he takes a steadying breath, as deep as he can with the flowers clogging up his throat and lungs.

he tears it out with little hesitation, a mangled, gurgling shriek following the spray of blood from the roots as he flings the stalk away from him. he drops to his hands and knees, then to his elbows as he coughs, unrestrained and animal cries of pain cutting through.

"criminy! dirk, what the hell!" dirk drops onto his side, jake's legs coming into clearer and clearer focus as he runs toward him. jake drops onto a knee beside him, one solid, calloused hand curling around the side of dirk's neck.

petals and blood drip out of dirk's mouth.

"shit," says jake, hushed. dirk laughs, clutching his ribs as he coughs through it. "why didn't you say anything?"

"would it have made a difference?" dirk's voice twists and fluctuates under the pain, and jake's lips press hard together as he watches him struggle.

"no, you're right," he says, eventually. "dirk, i am... truly, truly sorry."

"you tried."

"i did." dirk nods, hand reaching up, patting at jake's shin and knee before jake's free hand comes to grasp his.

"i got it handled. take me to derse," says dirk. "hurry."

he does. jake takes dirk's board, arms wrapped firmly around his waist and stance set wide and solid to support dirk's flagging weight; blood drips steadily down his back with dirk's chin hooked over his shoulder, weak fingers clutching his shirt.

dirk knows derse like the back of his hand, hazy as he is; he knows every back alley and secret passageway, knows exactly how to stay out of sight of agents and the witch herself. with his guidance, jake makes their way to the center of the moon.

he lays dirk on the magenta, heart-adorned slab; the sight of it is morbid, dirk's chin and neck and shirt all stained deep red and sticky, and it makes him feel a little ill. still, he sits on the edge of the slab beside the boy he failed to love, big hand warm on his waist.

"can you kill me?" dirk asks, already knowing the answer.

"... no. i can't."

"yeah. i figured." dirk wheezes in the overwhelming silence for a few minutes, little coughs bubbling up every now and again.

"how about a kiss?" dirk expects another no. jake is leaning over him before he realizes, pressing his lips to dirk's without regard for the blood and spit forming bubbles between them. dirk's reciprocation is sluggish, uncoordinated; he smiles wanly when jake pulls back, mouth and chin stained raspberry red, now, too.

they wait. hours pass as dirk's breath grows weaker, as blood pools and floods in the back of his throat, as he slowly drowns in his own lungs. his eyes are glassy long before he's truly dead. a sick part of jake is reminded of the first time he kissed dirk, cold and lifeless. he doesn't think he could do it again.

dirk stops breathing. for a moment there's nothing. jake holds his breath, lone heartbeat deafening in his ears. then, light blinds him; he scrambles off of the stone and onto dirk's nearby hoverboard, shielding his eyes in his elbow.

when it's over, he blinks white spots from his vision in the relative darkness.

dirk floats before him, magenta-clad and clean, no trace of blood or flowers to be found. he takes his first deep breath in what feels like a year or more, and the corner of his mouth twitches up.

"i told you," says the prince of heart. "i had it handled."

written originally on my twitter for @acottagewitch 💖

#homestuck #dirk strider #jake english #dirkjake #hanahaki #character death #works: fic

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loquaciousquark · 6 years

Text

17th Bloomingtide. Spring winds are blowing, and with them they bring...

All sorts of whispers in the city these days. Particularly, rumors that a ship with piratical ties is on its way to Kirkwall, to dock within the week.

I can’t pretend I’m not hoping, but I can’t say the hope aloud, either. It’s been almost three years since she left. There’s hardly any anger left, thank the Maker, but I still haven’t figured out the hurt.

Speaking of hurt, Meredith and Orsino nearly came to blows this morning in the Hightown square. I gave a good effort at impartiality since I’m apparently considered respectable now, channeling my inner Elthina and so forth (for you, Sebastian, and no other), and in the end everyone left angry and unsatisfied. I believe this means I was a success.

21st Bloomingtide. Beautiful sunny day, almost warm

She’s here. Isabela’s come back to the city. We had a terrible fight when I went into the Hanged Man--the wench had been there for two days without either her or Varric breathing a word to me, so when I came in as blithe as a daisy only to see that cocky smirk at the bar with Corff, as if she’d been gone three weeks instead of three years, I couldn’t decide if I ought to kill her or kiss her.

She blamed (blames?) me for ruining all her plans. For making her stay, or want to stay, instead of letting her live forever without a tie to solid land. She’s given up her charter, let it expire when she docked and dismissed her crew. She sounded so bitter... she said I made her feel less than what she was by caring about her. Well--not in as many words, but that’s what I took away from it.

If she didn’t want me to care about her, she shouldn’t have come back. Serves her right--I’ll love her whether she likes it or not, and piffle to the rest. Even if she’s brought another Arishok on her heels again--I’ll fight him, too, if I have to.

Belatedly occurs to me that I shouldn’t tempt the Maker, especially as I’m already down one kidney

We had a drink after we fought, and she told me a little about her journeys & why her hair’s two inches shorter than when she left. She has a new scar, too, right across the meat of her right arm. I’m so very glad she’s back. I’m even looking forward to the pot of coin I’ll be losing next week at cards.

Maker, how can I be so happy and sad at the same time?

30th Bloomingtide. Still sunny, warming up both here & the Coast. In Ferelden there’d be daisies covering the fields

Isabela’s been everywhere. Everywhere! Antiva, Rivain (briefly), stops in Orlais, Gwaren, Alamar--she even went far enough into Denerim to see the king & queen, long may they reign etc, etc. Because apparently Isabela’s the kind of person to know reigning monarchs of neighboring countries on a first-name basis. She even says she trained the queen in daggers a long time ago when she was only a Warden, which is probably the most unbelievable part of the whole tale.

Varric won’t admit it, but he’s as pleased as I am that she’s back. We played cards last night and everyone came (except Aveline, who’s still in Orlais), and he was so quietly satisfied I could swear he was stacking the deck in his favor, except he’s been scrupulously honest in his cards lately (a long con, I’m sure) and he hardly won anything anyway. Isabela cleaned out every one of us, except Anders who folded nearly every hand, and not a single person complained.

Reminder: take Merrill out... somewhere tomorrow. Anywhere. She’s looking awfully wilted lately, and Varric said he hasn’t had to pay street protection in over two months. She’s just not... going anyplace. I’m hoping Isabela’s coming back will bring her out a little more, but she did look awfully distracted more than once tonight.

That damned mirror!

4th Justinian. I have never been so charmed by a doodled dick in my journal, thank you, now stop reading and go pilfer something shiny

I’m a perfect fool sometimes.

I was reading letters in the study. Pelarie’s asked me to come by--that’s beside the point. I was using Fenris’s little penknife to open them, the one he gave me, and as Orana came by to water the rhododendron she said something about it being rather pretty. I showed it to her with the feathers and the engraving on the blade, and I was laughing about how he’d had it engraved with the Tevinter word for sadist, as he’d called me ages ago when he was so ill.

Except she only looked perplexed when I said that, and I...

I still didn’t understand, not until I asked her directly. She carefully sounded out the word to be sure she’d read it right (which she had).

Avis doesn’t mean “sadist.” It means “bird.”

I’ve never felt so peculiar over a word in my life.

11th Justinian. Cool for the season, warm for my taste. Stormed a bit this morning but it’s cleared up nicely since

Aveline’s back tomorrow and the city is more than ready for her return. The templars are--well, Meredith is become the sole seat of power in Kirkwall, and I hadn’t realized how absolutely she’s claimed it until I passed by a pair of templars heckling a young man in Darktown this morning. They had him up against a wall & were trying to bait magic out of him with sheer fear, and it wasn’t until I casually came up between their muscly shoulders that they seemed to care the entire alley was watching.

I asked if they needed any help. I recognized them, too--they used to run with Alrik and his sort, though I hadn’t seen them in the streets in years and frankly, journal, I’d hoped they’d just gone off and walked off some high cliff somewhere together. The taller one looked ready to hit me until he recognized my face, and then they both gave up a grudging respect and went on their way.

I still don’t know if the boy was a mage. I didn’t ask--I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be in the middle of this war. Anders fights enough for the both of us, and that’s not even including the war he’s waging against himself.

(Sidebar, now that I’ve brought it up: I went to help him with that little task of his, possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever done in my life, and he started it off by calling Fenris a wild dog to my face. I was already annoyed; at that I was angry, and I told him so. He apologized, though I’m not sure he meant it, and on we went to the precious shit. I can’t say the splashing wasn’t intentional; if nothing else, I am excellent at recognizing my own mercurial spite. He did apologize again as we left, much more sincerely, and by then my temper had cooled enough to accept it.

I must say, given all my vast years of experience with spirits and possession and indeed several personal anecdotes involving general bad behavior on the part of Fade denizens, that Justice has not been a good influence on that man.)

24th Justinian. Drizzly all day, and even the hood my father magicked is struggling to keep up its spirits

Dicks, but when it rains it pours. Someone’s after Gamlen for bad debt, something to do with some Gem of Ker...what is it? I have the note. Keroshek. Sounds like one of those scheming letters that pretend to be some investor or tax collector and threaten to bring the guard unless you pay them a hundred sovs, except that in this case someone really did try to kill him.

I’m not so rich with family that I can let this happen again. I won’t allow it. If I have to tie him to a post in my basement to keep him safe, I will. I’ll even risk the smell soaking into the walls.

Varric’s looking into it for me. In other news, Aveline’s back safely, and she and Isabela had a reunion I still can’t quite find words for. I think they were both happy, though the words didn’t show it, and when Isabela draped her arm over Aveline’s shoulders at the end she didn’t shake her off for nearly a minute.

Flames, Toby has just brought in a whole chicken. Where did he it’s alive

Later

One soggy chicken extracted, returned to the butcher down the street, and Toby thoroughly scolded. He’s curled at my feet now, sulking. Serves you right, you overgrown thief. Just because the chicken ran didn’t mean you had the right to chase it.

One more thing, and then I need to help Orana--I finally met with Pelarie and Jule. Pelarie’s worried about her little sister, the one in the Gallows. She says she’s fine for now, that her name’s been enough to protect her so far, but she’s worried that the city might not remain safe for her forever. She wanted to know if I could quote-unquote help should she need it in the future.

I can. I will, if it comes to it, and she knew it before she asked. How irritatingly transparent I am, and how well she knows my regard for little sisters.

1st Solace. Stifling, yet dank. Remarkable city, Kirkwall

Two very interesting things happened today. First, a qunari arrived in Hightown (and the brass balls on that one for lingering, despite the stares!) and stated he wanted all those old swords I collected after the assault on the Keep. There’s a handful missing, it seems, and since qunari have such a strong belief in their swords and souls being tied together, he’s here to bring them all home again. Only a few more, and then he can leave safely. (Good, I think--Kirkwall won’t tolerate his lingering long.)

The second thing, journal, is that despite a year of assurances to the contrary, stubbornness almost as great as my own, and various diatribes on Hadriana’s general mendacity, it turns out that someone has been exchanging letters with Tevinter for almost two months.

More than that, he’s found his sister. She’s a real person, named Varania, and (how annoyed I am!) Varric was the one who helped him find her. All this time she’s been a tailor in Minrathous (Hadriana did not lie about this, as it turns out), and Fenris has sent her money so she can come to Kirkwall to meet him.

Journal, he says she’s here. She’s come all this way to meet him and he’s more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. He’s even straightened the more useful rooms in his mansion, just in case. Maker knows he’s saved enough coin over the years to spare a little on curtains now. He wants to go as soon as he can, and he wants me to come with him. Puppy eyes, as Merrill would say, and I was putty. We’re to go first thing in the morning.

I confess I do wonder what it must be like to meet one’s sister for the first time as a grown man. Except, she’ll remember him, won’t she? (He never said as much, but I’m certain he’s wondering about his own memories, too.) Forgive the optimistic dreaming, but if this meeting stirs even one memory out of that black morass of his past it seems like it would all be worth it.

I’m going to sneak in a few sachets of potpourri, though, just in case.

2nd Solace. Afternoon

Well.

Well, journal.

I’ve a thousand thoughts storming in my head, and I don’t know where to start.

It was all a trap, and I’ve finally had the extraordinary pleasure of meeting, maiming, and murdering a magister of Tevinter in my favorite bar.

Varania is gone, for better or worse.

Fenris is free, in a way that’s deeper than the lyrium, and I’m afraid...

I don’t know where to start.

He recognized her as soon as we went in. Aveline came too, since Donnic was on patrol, and the moment we all passed Corff at the bar Fenris’s head snapped over to an elf with red hair and stooped shoulders. He knew her name, and she called him Leto, which is what he was once called before Danarius remade him.

But she was... she was so bitter. Bitter and broken and she wasn’t ten words in before all the hair on my arms started standing up, because she was wrong and something was wrong. And then there he came, sailing down the stairs I’ve trampled twice a week for ten years, his hand on the railing Isabela carved tits into before the Arishok, his pristine magisterial silk trailing over the place where I threw up three tankards of Corff’s horrible beer last week after cards. The violation was quite unlike anything I’d felt in years, not since the foundry. How dare he come into this place that is ours, and all that rot.

(Only it is ours. Mine and Fenris’s and Varric’s and Isabela’s and even Aveline’s. It’s ours, paid for in blood and ten years of card games and sneaking Norah extra tips at the end of the night, and I was glad to destroy the creature trying to take it from us.)

He said beastly things to Fenris. Terrible, hideous insinuations, and he spoke as if he were proud of them.

I could hardly help snarling back before I realized Fenris was pale as parchment and his lyrium was going off like lightning. He is a free man. He’s been a free man--I told Danarius--and any worthless scrap of paper a thousand leagues away saying differently might as well be the mud caked in my boots.

Ten years he’s been chasing Fenris, with Fenris killing everyone he’s sent, announcing at every possible turn how he’d like to kill Danarius (often quite loudly), and that fucking man walks in with an outstretched hand for an errant dog, a helpless, starving stray yearning for the kind touch of its master. How delusional! How desperate! And yet...

And yet for one awful, awful moment, I thought Fenris might agree to go with him. If I never see such blank horror in his face again it will be too soon.

Worse, it was Varania who brought him. Fenris’s sister, who is a desperate, untrained mage in absolute poverty in the cruelest city in Thedas, who found the promise of power more palatable than reunion with a long-lost brother. If I-- if Bethany

The magister raised shades out of the floor of the Hanged Man. One broke through the floorboards right next to Grimmet’s chair, where Merrill once dropped a little pot of paint and stained the wood in the shape of Orlais. Isabela and Varric and Aveline ripped through most of them--I helped--and at the end of it Fenris reached up and tore out Danarius’s throat. Would have taken Varania’s, too, if Varric and I hadn’t spoken our doubts. I still don’t know if I should have said anything. It’s hardly my affair, and yet... even the chance. Even the chance seemed worth it, if there was mercy...

He spared her. She told him he’d competed for the honor to be branded by Danarius, and left her and their mother begging in the streets, and then she left. Mercy, I said.

Fenris said he was alone after, but I refused to let him entertain that thought for even a moment. He has everyone--he has me. Mostly me. Fine--all of me, damn it. He’ll never feel alone an instant for the rest of his life if I have my way, even if I have to walk ‘round with my hands in his pockets to prove it.

He left while the blood was still warm. Needed air (understandable), and by that time Aveline had gone into full Captain mode and was pulling guards off every post in earshot and a few more besides. Norah was already scrubbing at the blood by the time I left. She didn’t look more than annoyed, but I’m making a donation to the rebuilding fund anyway, for their pains.

I do seem to bring tempests in my wake, don’t I? Or perhaps it’s Fenris stirring up the storm this time, and I’m the twig caught in his gale for once. I suppose it hardly matters at this point.

It’s been long enough, I think. I told him I’d come by later once he’d had a chance to breathe, and as my own has become short with concern, I’m determined to be neighborly and see to his well-being.

I’m afraid he’s going to leave the city. Terrified, really. What’s holding him here but us?

Flames. All I can do is ask, considering tying him to the house by his laces might send the wrong message at this point.

Solace. 3rd, I think. Might be 4th. Might be 5th. Does it matter? Does anything matter when one has a warm fire, an overfull heart, and a lover who tangles tighter than a cat when he’s asleep?

Fenris is not, as it happens, leaving the city.

Fenris is not, as it happens, satisfied with our previous friendly arrangement.

As it happens, journal, Fenris is also not inclined to surrender my hand to this page, and any errant blots may be blamed entirely upon him. I’m forced to abandon this all sooner than I meant, but I imagine the memories are vivid enough to be recounted at a later time. (That is, assuming some nebulous future exists where I don’t have the most handsome elf I’ve ever met letting me run my fingers down his back at leisure. Horrors!)

Andraste and all her stars, but I love him. How lucky to be able to show it at last!

(Also--remembered more of the lyrium pattern than I’d thought. Ha!)

#fenris #hawke #fenris/hawke #dragon age #quark writes #hawke's journal tag #happy valentine's day :>#yes this does in fact mean the next part will be ENTIRELY fluff #or well mostly anyway #can't break the streak completely #funnily enough this journal started a little over three years ago #it seems very fitting to get to this point now #anyway enjoy!

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