#sylda

[thereluctantinquisitor]

OKAY for the new ask game, let's put all our eggs in exactly one (1) basket. If you don't like that one though you can do it 10 more times ;) <3

SONG: Ain’t No Rest For the Wicked - Cage the Elephant

______

“You know coin doesn’t grow on trees, right?”

A laugh bubbled from Sylda’s lips, her mouth and chin coated in a brown, sticky syrup. “I know,” she said as she sucked more droplets from her fingertips. “See? No waste.” As if in proof, she locked eyes with Delver and licked all the way up the back of her hand, on skin that Delver knew couldn’t possibly have syrup on it.

Anything to make a point.

With a put-upon sigh, Delver shook his head and cast his attention around the street. Most of the smaller towns didn’t have a market quite so crowded, but with Cheln ravaged by who the fuck knows what and abandoned, Karrak had seized the opportunity to put itself on the map with both hands. Now, the once emaciated town was practically bursting at the seams, a river of people and wagons and colourful stalls threatening to make cobbles of the smooth road that ran its length.

“You’re thinking.”

Delver’s eyes cut across at Sylda’s accusation. She was mercifully done with the sticky breaded mess she’d been inhaling. “This may come as a shock, but most people do.”

That earned him a swat on the arm - honestly, a little harder than was necessary - but he huffed a laugh as he shook her off and nodded to the far side of the market road. “See that house? The small one beside the baker. I know the woman who lives there.”

Sylda’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline as if launched by a catapult. “Oh? Know her, eh?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What? You’ve never stopped and had a tumble between stamping papers and plucking thieves off nooses?” Sylda skirted around to plant herself in front of him, hands firm on her hips, head cocked with dangerous curiosity. “Look, I know you’re a miserable bastard, but surely someone could look past it for a night or two?”

Delver glared at her. She stared right back, mouth half-twitching into a smirk as she fought hard to keep a straight face. “Fine,” he bit out eventually, and her triumphant smile bloomed. “You win. It’s exactly what you think.”

“Yes! I knew it.” With a newfound bounce in her step, she hooked her arm through Delver’s and began tugging him towards the centre of the busy street. If they were trampled by a wagon or a particularly excited market-goer, well, so be it. Sylda wasn’t one to think quite that far ahead. “So... what’s her name?”

“Eigrel.”

“Oh.” A brief falter. “Well, I’m sure she’s got a great personality.”

Rolling his eyes, Delver allowed Sylda to resume dragging him across the road. Their direction completely at odds with the rest of the crowd, she chirped meaningless apologies every time they startled someone into a sudden stop until they finally reached the far side, and the house in question. It looked the same as he remembered, down to the chip in the bottom corner. Eigrel had slammed it on her late husband’s foot once, and had clearly deemed the memory worth preserving. Before Delver could even begin to retell the story, Sylda was hammering on the door with her bony fists like the woman inside owed her coin.

Well... to be fair...

The door swung open, and suddenly Sylda was face to face with Eigrel. Older than the third of the sister moons and bent as a willow, Eigrel looked on the precipice of a bitter tirade, red-faced and vibrating with anger, before the sight of Delver stole the acid from her tongue. Instead, something in her eyes sharpened, her mouth twisted into a smirk, and she raised her chin. The motion was imperious and just how he remembered. “Well, well. Was wonderin’ when you’d be back. Needed a few seasons to recover, did you?”

Delver gave a deep, formal bow. It was entirely to hide the grin on his face from Sylda, who looked on the verge of full-body collapse. Or nausea. He could never tell with her until it happened. Schooling the smile away before straightening, Delver looked Eigrel in her one good eye. “Come now, Eigy. How could I stay away?” Stepping forward, crowding out Sylda with the span of his shoulders, he rested a hand on the door frame and leaned close. Eigrel smelled of old linen. Nutmeg. Clove. “You know I like a challenge.”

A grin split Eigrel’s face, the cracks of her wrinkles deepening into crevasses. That one brown eye of hers, offset by its milky partner, was as shrewd as ever. “Thought you’d be tired of it by now, boy.”

It was Sylda’s voice that responded, cautious, as though she was afraid of the answer but too painfully curious not to ask. “Tired of what?”

Eigrel’s eye never left Delver. The grin never wavered. She spoke the word like a promise.

“Losing.”

Snorting, Delver straightened with his own imperious half-shrug. “No rest for the wicked, as they say. But,” he pulled out a pair of bone dice, holding them aloft between his fingers, “I’m feeling lucky this time. Made them myself.”

Scoffing in the wet, tactile way unique to the elderly, Eigrel cleared her throat and leaned forward to inspected them, getting close enough that he could have coughed and accidentally poked out her one good eye. But, confident in his workmanship, he allowed her to check the angles like a master smith testing the line of a sword. He turned the dice slowly in his fingers, one side at a time. Sylda watched, silent. The tension was near palpable.

Eigrel never approved. She simply stopped disapproving. This time, her acquiescence came in the form of an unspoken invitation as she huffed, stepped aside, and didn’t slam Delver’s foot in the door. “Go on in, then. Let’s test that so-called luck. Bring your friend, too. Girl should learn how to play proper.”

Sylda, still at a loss, quickly raised her hands as if to ward off a curse. “No, no, that’s all right! You two have your, ah... fun. Playing. Y’know. Whatever it is you’re playing.”

For a moment, Delver thought he’d have to be the one to do the convincing. After all, she was the last person he’d trust in a busy market unsupervised. But before he even had a chance, Eigrel had fixed the full force of her attention on Sylda. Pinned her with that wicked-bright eye. It gleamed in a way that made Delver suddenly nervous.

“Don’t you want to learn how to beat a man with his own dice?”

Before Delver could blink, Sylda was gone, vanishing inside Eigrel’s house like a cat at mealtime. He opened his mouth to protest her betrayal, but knowing it would be useless, gave up with a sigh. Damn Eigrel. Somehow, before even starting, he was already defeated. And they both knew it.

“Go easy,” he plead as he stepped in off the street and slid off his dusty boots. “She’s enough trouble as is.”

Eigrel responded with a raspy chuckle.

“Not on your life. You need a bit of trouble.”

#Thank you for the ask! #I had no idea what to write for a while then this nonsense happened so.... #here you go! #Stonebreaker Series #Delver #Sylda #reluctant writes #shuffle meme #god i haven't written anything from Stonebreaker for so damn long

[skyfullofpods]

315 is The Prickwillow Papers!

Sylda is a half-elf, who’s just moved back in with her parents after graduating from the College of Mages. Prickwillow is a sleepy little town, and Sylda doesn’t expect anything exciting to happen to her. That is, until she meets Squirm the fay, who turns her life upside down.

Completed series of eleven episodes, one recorded live.

#the prickwillow papers #random podcast recommendations #audio fiction #audio drama #podcasts #podcast recommendations #podcast recs

[manfrommars2049]

[OC] sylda, the paladin halfling (comission) , digital, by me via FantasyArt

#FantasyArt #H00NEYMOON

[lamilanomagazine]

Il razzo Ariane 5 è decollato ieri con successo dopo due ritardi nel lancio

Il razzo Ariane 5 è decollato ieri con successo dopo due ritardi nel lancio Succede al razzo Ariane 4, sebbene non vi derivi direttamente. Lo sviluppo del lanciatore è durato dieci anni ed è costato 7 miliardi di euro. L'ESA inizialmente sviluppò l'Ariane 5 come lanciatore per il mini shuttle europeo Hermes, ma quando il progetto dell'Hermes venne accantonato si decise di trasformare il lanciatore in un razzo prettamente commerciale. L'utilizzo primario dell'Ariane 5 è il posizionamento in orbita geostazionaria dei satelliti. Due satelliti possono essere caricati utilizzando il caricatore Sylda. Si possono caricare anche tre satelliti, se di peso e dimensioni abbastanza ridotte. Fino a otto carichi secondari possono essere trasportati, principalmente piccoli carichi con esperimenti o microsatelliti che vengono caricati con il caricatore ASAP (Ariane Structure for Auxiliary Payloads). Dopo due ritardi nel lancio, il razzo Ariane 5 è decollato con successo alle 19:00 ora locale (2200 GMT) di ieri, mercoledì, dal centro spaziale della Guyana a Kourou. Ariane 5 trasporta un satellite per comunicazioni militari francese (Syracuse 4B) e un satellite sperimentale tedesco. L'ultimo volo del razzo era stato rinviato due volte: il 16 giugno per motivi tecnici, poi il 4 luglio per via del maltempo.... #notizie #news #breakingnews #cronaca #politica #eventi #sport #moda Read the full article

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 4: Ambush + “That didn’t stop you before”

Another piece for @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober, also incorporating the Day 4 #Fictober20 prompt.

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Characters: Delver & Sylda Warnings: Language

             ____________________________

Where in the Divider’s name could she have run off to?

Muttering darkly, Delver peered down another alley, shook his head, and continued onward, boots scuffing against the dust and grit that coated Yelen’s streets. When he’d left Sylda, she’d been half-dead at best, barely able to move, her body a mess of hastily bandaged injuries and deeper, less visible pains. It wasn’t that he blamed her for taking off the second his back was turned; all things considered, it was fair enough. Waking up to a complete stranger eating soup beside her bed - especially a man from the Allied Kingdoms - would be alarming at the best of times. But particularly for a young woman who had spent her previous waking moments hanging by the neck in the gallows courtyard. How she had managed to get out of bed, yet alone sneak out the second storey window, was nothing short of baffling.

Or it would have been, if he hadn’t already witnessed her do far stranger things.

Whoever she was - whatever she was - he needed to find her. Apparently, convincing her to uproot her entire life and travel the length of the continent alone with him was going to be difficult.

Who knew.

Alleys and side streets drifted past as Delver continued his nighttime hunt, the middle moon, Rhana, kind enough to bathe the streets in her pale blue glow. Part of Delver knew what he was doing was foolish. His innkeeper, after some creative haggling that left Delver short an iron drem and his belt knife, had offered vague directions towards a section of the city infamous for housing thieves and cutthroats. Apparently, it was an area civilians knew to avoid, especially after dark. Which just happened to be the exact place a runaway thief like Sylda was likely to go. 

Of course, that meant Delver had to follow, and despite it being a well-lit evening, he couldn’t keep his gaze from snapping towards every faint movement in the corner of his vision. This particular tangle of streets would make the perfect site for an ambush.

It was going to be a long night. 

What if she’d collapsed in an alley, somewhere? Divider, he hoped not. Burnout was a severe risk among thaumists - even highly trained ones. If she pushed herself too hard too soon, it could be enough to succeed where the gallows had failed.

After his wanderings along the main road bore no fruit, Delver sucked in a breath, shoved aside his self-preservation instinct, and began to search the side streets. The even narrower alleys, swathed in a near impenetrable darkness, could wait until he was truly desperate.

Of course, as he was quick to discover, even the side streets held their dangers.

“Well, what’ve we got here? You’re a long way from home.”

Delver came to a sharp halt as a voice carried up the street behind him. Turning, he found himself approached by two figures, one as tall as he was, the other about a half-head shorter. They ambled almost casually, which seemed an odd tactic for a robbery. Or a murder. That or he posed so little threat that they were happy to take things slow. 

How thoughtful.

“Easy,” Delver said, swapping to the local dialect, hoping its might earn him some kind of favour. He raised his hands, proving he was unarmed, although he doubted it made much difference. “I’m looking for a friend, not for trouble,”

As expected, the tall one snorted. “Right.” He gestured to his partner. “He your friend?”

Delver blinked. “No?”

“What about me?”

“Ah, no.”

“Well...” The shorter one smiled and drew a knife from his belt. “Then I guess you’ve got trouble.”

Great. Thieves and fucking comedians to boot. He must truly be the unluckiest man alive.

Sighing, Delver lowered his hands. “I guess I do.” He made a show of stretching his back, using the movement to quickly scan the nearby alleys. There didn’t seem to be any more movement. The two of them must have been running as a pair, probably on the way back from an unsuccessful hunt somewhere else in the city. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to just leave me alone?”

The tall one shrugged. “You could try. Most folks do.”

“I take it that didn’t stop you before?”

“Nope.”

Delver sniffed. “Fair enough.” He went to put his hands in his pockets, only to find a second knife being thrust menacingly towards him. Jaw tight, he froze, then returned his hands to their former position. “Listen - I’m only here because I’m looking for a woman.”

“Yeah? Ain’t we all.”

“No, not like… her name is Syldana.”

There was a pause. The pair shared a glance, brows raised, their knives still raised threateningly. “Hey, wait,” said the taller one slowly. His dark gaze drifted back to Delver. “You the one that bought her off the rope?”

Realistically, telling the truth could go one of two ways. Luckily, Delver had always been a gambling man. “I am,” he replied, raising his chin, doing his best to look more important than he was.

Again, the two shared a look. Then, the smaller one grinned, crooked teeth flashing. 

“Well, you’ve got more coin than brains, dontcha?”

Exhaling, Delver closed his eyes. Of course it went the wrong way.

The taller one stepped forward this time, boots crunching, advancing until he was almost within arm’s reach. “It’s our lucky day, Raoul. C’mon. Let’s clean his pockets.”

Well, there was no helping it. Shoulders stiff, hands still raised, Delver waited as the man started patting down his sides, hunting for hidden pockets, jewellery, treasures sewn into the lining. His knife hovered menacingly by Delver’s throat at first, so close that when he swallowed, he could feel the steel brushing against his skin. But the man was distracted, busy running a rough hand down the side of Delver’s leg. The knife wavered… pressed closer for a moment… started to dip away…

The second he had an opening, Delver swung, cracking the man across the temple with his elbow. He went down with a shocked yelp, red dust springing up around him. The knife skidded from his hand, but Delver was already moving, dancing out of his reach and away from his partner, who appeared to still be processing what had just happened.

“Krom!” the short one cried eventually, then turned a hateful glare on Delver. “You bastard - get back here!”

“Alright, alright. Just take it easy.” Delver continued retreating, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Reaching back, he slid a wooden rod from his waistband, its twelve inch length concealed beneath his loose shirt. Just as well Krom hadn’t gotten too handsy, or he would have easily found it. With a jerk of the wrist, Delver extended the weapon to the side, doubling its length, then twisted to lock it in place. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Krom was already getting to his feet and Raoul had seemingly regained his addled wits. “How about we all just walk away?” Delver pressed, eyes flicking between the pair. “No one has to get hurt.”

Their response was simple enough.

Grunting, Delver ducked to the side, the sound of Raoul’s dagger whipping past his ear barely registering as he swung the rod, striking the shorter man across the back. The thief grunted, the momentum of his overeager lunge sending him stumbling past, buying Delver a few seconds to plan his next move. 

Or it would have, if there weren’t two of them.

A low grunt gave Krom away, but only barely. Heart lurching, Delver whipped around, his movement unnaturally fast. As he spun, something inside him burned away, the sensation sending a shiver of discomfort racing through his body. Still, he managed to slap Krom’s fist aside and follow through, ramming the end of the rod into his gut. It’s been too long since I did this, Delver thought, breathing hard, hands trembling slightly as he backed away from his assailants. He’d grown too reliant on the anchor fastened to his wrist; too willing to use its reserve of thaumic essence than tap into his own. Now the disc was empty - possibly even broken. He was on his own.

The rod, handy though it was, wasn’t doing the damage he needed. Even with its unnaturally hardened wood, the two thieves just weren’t staying down. He was starting to think the obscene amount he paid for it in Tel Shival might have been a mistake. However, before Delver had time to dwell on his poor financial decisions, he found himself accosted once more.

One knife, one fist, two angry men. Delver wasn’t a fighter. Not really. As Krom swung a punch at his stomach, Raoul darted forward, slashing at him from the side. He could only hope to stop one of them, so he swung the rod towards the dagger, barely catching it before it sunk into his shoulder. That left him open to Krom, and he acted on sheer reflex. Concentrating, sucking in a breath, Delver reached for the hum that resonated inside his body. Then, without the time or practice necessary for any finesse, he dragged it all to one spot at the center of his torso. 

Krom’s fist connected.

And the bones in his hand shattered.

The man’s scream was enough to curdle Delver’s blood. Cradling his hand, at least three fingers bent at jarringly unnatural angles, Krom stumbled away, tears pricking his eyes, a string of panicked curses bubbling from his lips. “Y-Y-You! You rat-bloody-bastard!” He groaned loudly, sounding almost nauseous as he curled over his ruined hand. “K-King’s eyes as m... my fucking witness... I’ll kill you!”

Normally, Delver would have had a snarky remark for that. You’ll have to catch me first. Tell The Errant King I said hello. Try aiming a little higher next time. But instead, he found himself also staggering, heart pounding, head spinning. Almost immediately after Krom’s fist connected with his stomach, the area briefly hard enough to rival stone, Delver had lost his concentration. What remained of his essence suddenly dispersed, like a cloud collapsing under its own weight into a fine mist. He could barely feel its hum now. It was weak. Very weak.

I need to get out of here.

Sweating, Delver backpedaled, stumbled on a broken cobble, and barely caught himself against a nearby wall. His arms were shaking something terrible, the rod in his grasp wavering laughably as he brandished it between himself and the advancing Raoul. “Last chance,” he rasped, blinking, fighting to clear his vision. And to think he’d been worried about Sylda pushing herself too hard. Divider’s Own, he was a fool. If he burned out now, that was it. He was a dead man.

“Y-You’re one of those freaks,” Raoul spat. He was shaking too, although for a very different reason. “A fucking aberration's what you are!”

On a regular day, Delver would have been impressed that Raoul even knew such a long word. But as it was, he could barely keep his feet under him, familiar shivers starting to tingle across his skin. That damn girl, he thought, an irrational anger washing over him as his remaining attacker warily advanced. She just couldn’t stay put for one night. Couldn’t even do me that one fucking favour after I---

“Raoul - stop!”

Suddenly, there was another body in front of him. Short. Brown haired. Familiar.

Delver stared, speechless. He must be dreaming. Or dead. Or both.

With a knife in each hand, Sylda jabbed one towards Raoul, who had halted mid-step, eyes wide. She was still injured, the bandages around her wrists, stomach, and throat all stained brown from old blood.

But she was there. Awake. Alive. 

“Enough,” Sylda continued, her voice surprisingly firm. Far stronger than it had been just a few hours ago. “He’s with me.”

“Ahh…” Raoul glanced back at Krom, who was clearly the leader of the pair. Unfortunately, he found him barely conscious, slumped against the wall of a boarded up building. No help there. Slowly, he turned back to reassess the situation for himself. An aberration and a miracle, both apparently on the same side.

What would he do...

“He’s your friend, is he Sylda?” Clearing his throat, Raoul’s eyes flicked to Delver. “Why, ah… why didn’t you say so?”

Delver blinked. He almost argued, then realised that this was his way out. 

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He shrugged awkwardly. “Sorry?”

Huffing, Raoul rolled his eyes. Despite his over-performance, it was no small relief when he sheathed his knife and took a step away. “Gotta keep a better eye on your friends, girl. Nearly killed this one. He doesn’t belong here.”

Sylda just nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” There was a pause. “Uh… what happened to Krom?”

The man in question had started whimpering, rocking slightly, hand curled against his chest.

“He punched a wall,” Delver said hurriedly, then shot a meaningful look at Raoul. The other man, clearly looking for someone to follow, nodded.

“Oh, yeah. Got a mean temper, he does. Really shouldn’t let it get the better of him like this.”

Sylda glanced back, and Delver nodded sagely. 

While it was pretty obvious that Sylda wasn’t buying their composite lie, it didn’t really matter. Sighing, she lowered her blades and shook her head. “Fine. You’d better get him back to the nest. Davros has been asking about you two.”

Raoul stiffened. “He has? Did he say...”

Dizzy and about one sharp turn away from throwing up on his shoes, Delver let the rest of the conversation wash past him, focusing on his breathing, willing his body to comply. With the threat apparently over, he twisted the rod, the two halves sliding back into themselves. By the time he’d managed to stow it away again, Raoul and Krom were already limping away down one of the nearby alleys, their forms vanishing into the heavy dark.

“You’ve...” Delver coughed, throat painfully dry. Another fun side-effect. “You’ve got some timing.”

Sylda just exhaled, clearly as relieved as he was. She turned, regarding him for a moment; his clammy skin, his shaking hands, his over-reliance on the wall. Then she reached up, fingertips brushing over the bandage he’d wrapped carefully around her neck earlier that day. As she did, her expression softened.

“Guess I could say the same about you, huh?” Slowly, she moved closer, concern tinging her round face. “Are you okay?”

Delver grunted, offering a conciliatory nod. As much as he’d been cursing her just a few moments ago, he had to admit, she had practically saved his life. Which meant…

“I suppose this makes us even.” Delver chuckled weakly, tipping his head back against the crumbling stone, closing his eyes. Just for a moment. “A life for a life. Pretty fair trade, if you ask me.”

Sylda hummed, and the pair lapsed into a strange, heavy silence. They both knew it wasn’t the same. Not really. What Delver had done - reckless and archaic and irrational - went a little beyond intervening in an alleyway brawl. When he’d saved her life, she’d been a stranger. A murderer hanging for her crime before a crowd of thousands.

But, as it turned out, they were both willing to ignore that fact. At least for now.

“Come on,” Sylda said softly, her voice coaxing Delver’s eyes to open once more. Blurry at the edges, she held out her arm - an offer of support. It was a gesture of peace, even if only temporary. “We’d better get out of here. I’ve... got some questions.”

Nodding, pulling in one last steadying breath, Delver didn’t even have to swallow his pride for once. He just accepted the offer.

#oc tober #oc-tober #fictober20 #stonebreakerseries #day 4 #delver #sylda #prompt #delver prompt #sylda prompt #other location #yelen #delver writing #sylda writing

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Gift Fic - Of a Hand’s Span

It’s officially over two months past due, so idk if I can call this a birthday gift, but I bludgeoned my way through a serious case of writer’s block for the very lovely @thereluctantinquisitor anyway! I realized too late that this might read as a bit of a rehash of the birthday fic you wrote me Kay, and I don’t consider myself an expert enough on your delightful OCs to think it’s at all in character, but I hope you enjoy the effort all the same! Thank you for always being a voice of encouragement and an incredible friend!! <3

~ 2500 words, of the Stonebreaker variety

------

When your year included a day spent swinging from the gallows, it seemed poor luck not to celebrate surviving it. 

The realization found Sylda quietly, one scorching afternoon in the height of summer as she idled around the dingy inn room that she and Delver had spent too much of their dwindling coin on. They hadn’t had much choice in the matter; the little inn was about the only place a reasonable person could wait out the arrival of the caravans that ferried travelers through the heart of the wilds beyond the bustling little trade stop. So they had spent the last two days waiting, until the waiting turned to bickering, and the bickering to silence, and the silence to sudden, glaring memory. 

Staring up at the pock-marked ceiling, Sylda checked the date against the calendar in her head, checked it a second time for good measure, then sighed and heaved herself up off of the groaning springs of the bed beneath her. Its complaints drew Delver’s attention from his third reread of the book that he was definitely not falling asleep to. 

“Where are you going?” he asked hazily, on reflex. There was resistance in his voice already. Sylda shrugged.

“Out,” she said, just to annoy him. “Maybe down to the market. Maybe to a tavern with some better wine. Hey, if I’m bored enough, maybe I’ll find my way over to the Gilded Keys. That could be fun.”

“We need to be here when the caravan arrives,” Delver reminded her, blinking the mirage of the book’s pages from his eyes as she crossed to the door.

“Mhm.”

“And I’m not going to climb around the whole city looking for you.”

“Of course not. I’ll be back.”

“Sure.” Delver sighed, scrubbing half-heartedly at what Sylda assumed was the beginning of his latest headache. Then he straightened.

“Isn’t the Gilded Keys a brothel?”

Her answer was the door falling shut behind her.

------

It was a productive afternoon, all things considered.

She spent nearly all of it loitering around the fringes of the market square, indulging in the long-neglected impulses of a thief gone nearly legitimate. A bakery lost some small, pocket-sized rolls fresh from the oven. A grocer misplaced a lump of cheap butter and a wide-mouthed jar of jam. A vintner got a very fine payout for a bottle of strawberry wine from the purse of a nervous gentleman up the road who had used braided cord for his purse strings instead of tarred rope. All in all, child's work, but clean work nonetheless. As the sun began to fall behind the edge of the horizon, Sylda wound her way as far from the center of town as she dared, and scaled the first roof that looked stable enough to hold her. It was nothing more than a low, flat plane of straw mats several blocks from the market, packed down and then gone over several times with pitch and bits of clay until it was as solid and sharp as unhewn granite. The family of three that lived beneath it wouldn't hear her footfalls on something that thick, even without all of the arguing they were doing.

She settled herself down on the corner that jutted out over a deserted alleyway, dangling her feet over the edge as she spread her spoils out beside her. The bread was still warm from its stay in the satchel she had tucked against her chest, just enough to melt the harder edge of the butter that she slathered on top. Cheap though it was, it was still deliciously salty, accenting the sweetness of the jam and the tart pop of wine. She indulged in three of the rolls, and half of the bottle of wine, before she let the tension roll slowly out of her shoulders.

Another year, then.

By every metric, that was something worthy of a toast. It meant that she hadn’t been too slow or  too stupid, or at least that she had been good at cutting an escape when she was. It meant that she had cultivated enough luck and favor to be more of an asset than a menace. It meant that she had kept herself fed and safe and alive, and that she had done so, consistently, season after season, for the better part of two decades. 

Almost, whispered the traitorous voice in her mind, quiet as a shadow. Almost, and almost not. A shame, to have nearly lost so much to the rope, and to have it mean so little…

She silenced the thought with another angry gulp of wine. She had survived. That was plenty. She didn't owe the world anything past that; she didn't owe anything to anyone.

And to yourself?

Sylda lowered her bottle as the flash of anger fizzled. Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? She had survived, and in surviving had been dragged away from everything that she had ever known. Every blessing and curse of street life, every familiar face that she had loved and never thought that she would miss; all of it had been swept away from her like so much road dust under her heels, carried off in one whirlwind of an afternoon. Now, instead, she had a messy inn room to look forward to one night, a frigid road camp the next. She had the company of a man who irritated her nine days out of ten, whose need for her mostly involved being a particularly interesting puzzle. Oh, Delver was fine as far as traveling companions went, but he had been clear about the purpose she served him, and vice versa. An even trade. That hardly made him something to be relied on.

When she thought about it, truly thought about it, her blessings fit almost entirely in the span of her hands - these clothes, this butter, a handful of rolls, a bottle of wine -

“There you are!”

And she nearly lost the bottle of wine over the edge of the roof. Heart in her throat, Sylda spun in her seat as Delver's head suddenly appeared over the edge of the wall beside her, his face twisted into a grimace of effort as he struggled up over the side. Habit alone roused her to her feet quickly enough to reach him at the edge of the roof, and haul him up by the crook of his elbow. 

"What in the world are you doing here?" she asked, bewildered, as he staggered to his feet. Delver just snorted and knocked the topmost layer of grime from his cloak. 

"I’m doing what I explicitly said I wasn't going to do,” he said dryly. “I'm climbing all over this dusty speck of a supply town looking for you. It's been hours, Sylda."

Defiance edged up through the cracks in her surprise. "I told you I was going out.”

"Sure. And then you went and stayed out until nearly sundown, when we were supposed to be back at the inn, waiting on the caravan -"

"Oh, the caravan isn't here yet." When Delver arched an eyebrow, Sylda shrugged. "What? I’m right, aren't I? If it had shown up already, I’d have seen it, or at least heard the ruckus from the market. You can spot them coming a full league away, and I’ve spent years running rooftops. I know what to keep an eye for.”

“Do you?” Irritation touched the edges of Delver’s tone. “Well, that’s a relief. Because you didn’t seem to ‘keep an eye’ on the shopkeepers that you spent all afternoon stealing from. If you had, maybe they wouldn’t have known exactly who I was talking about when I asked after you.”

He made a flourishing gesture to his purse, which jingled pitifully against his waist. Newly emptied, Sylda realized with a wince. She could just about picture the shape of the conversation that Delver had been subject to when the shopkeepers that she had swindled recognized her description. Maybe she hadn’t shaken nearly as much rust off as she had thought. She chanced a sheepish grin.

“In my defense, I wasn’t exactly intending to go back to them.”

Delver huffed. “No, I bet you weren’t.”

The brush of an insult there was almost enough to raise Sylda to an argument, but Delver’s attention had already shifted down to her meager pile of plunder, still lain out on the roof’s edge. He eyed the simple fare over for a moment, frowning, then turned to steal a glance up at her through the dirty fringe of his hair.

“Why?”

She could have lied. Could have pretended that she didn’t know what he was asking, could have pretended she was just sharpening her skills again, could have chalked it up to boredom, plain and simple. But a ghost possessed her instead, and she said, “It’s my birthday.”

It was almost worth the admittance to see Delver straighten so quickly. “What?”

“My birthday,” she said again, a little stronger. The words were out; no use fighting them now. “Rolls around about every year or so, you know? I figured it was worth doing...something, after making it through another one.” She made a pointed gesture near her neck and then shrugged like it didn’t wake the rotten seed of that particular memory. Delver just nodded, suddenly as stiff-necked as a new actor. He looked down at the spread of her spoils at their feet again, then out over the dusty rise of buildings spiraling out around them, frowning.

"Kind of a shit place for a celebration, isn't it?" he asked after a moment. Sylda shrugged.

"I’ve had them in worse places," she said, with a twist of a smile. "And to be fair, it's still better than sitting in a tiny inn room listening to you snore your way through a book you hate."

Delver scowled. "I don't snore."

"No," said Sylda, full grinning now, "you thunder like a bear in heat, and that’s on your better nights. Really, I’m not surprised you don’t travel in the wilds much, since you’d be in very real danger of one of them trying to petition you for the night -” 

She broke off just in time to duck out of the way of one of the bread rolls as it sailed past her head. 

"I’m starting to regret coming to find you,” Delver snapped as she heaved herself upright, snickering.

“You didn’t have to,” she pointed out helpfully. "Actually, I’m surprised you found me at all. We're not exactly near the market, and your bad luck is legendary -”

Delver raised another roll.

“- which makes the fact that you did find me that much more impressive." She held up a hand in a half-hearted gesture for peace, and begrudgingly, Delver lowered his weapon.

“It wasn’t exactly hard,” he admitted after a moment, dropping the little hunk of bread back onto her spread cloth. “You said that you used to work on rooftops, back in Yelen. After the mess in the market, I figured the only place that you'd go is up.”

He looked away, back out over the rise and fall of the town’s silhouette around them, and a strange tightness suddenly coiled itself inside Sylda’s chest. Delver was right; it wasn’t a difficult assumption to make, that she would go scurrying back to the rooftops for her safety. But it still took knowing her. It took remembering. A Cipher’s long, long memory was a testament to the things they found important enough to keep. The notion that anything about her even approached that bar, even temporarily…

She suddenly found herself settling back onto the edge of the roof, gesturing Delver down beside her and holding the bottle of wine out towards him.

“You still had to find me,” she pointed out. “It’s not a big town, sure, but finding one rooftop in a thousand, well…”

She shrugged, leaning back on one hand. Some starved, wretched part of her knew exactly what she was doing. It was the child in her, reaching out with both hands, little fists grasping for another word, another reassurance, another little brush of that companionship. Anything to have more than just this bottle of wine. The shame of it burned like a wildfire in her chest, but if Delver noticed, he mercifully didn’t say so.

“I tried just taking the roofs myself,” he said instead, accepting the seat and her offered wine with a grunt. “Managed to get on top of one without falling flat on my ass in front of everyone. Almost celebrated. Then I had a knife at my back.” He sighed, and took a long pull of wine as Sylda stifled a startled laugh. “I don’t know why I expected most thieves to stay on the street after knowing you. The gentleman holding my spine hostage seemed to think I was part of another gang and had come to muscle in on his territory. Then he tried to rob me. Then I guess he realized I wasn’t even worth dulling his blade to cut my purse, so he told me to get back on the ground where I belonged. I've spent the last hour peeking up onto roofs at random and hoping no one tries to cut my fingers off.”

"We usually check for rings on them first," Sylda assured him with a grin, even as her child-soul latched its stubby fingers around the thought and reeled it close. For me, it crooned delightedly. For me, for me; all of it, done just for me! A fresh tongue of shame licked up her ribs, spitting like a new log on a fire, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to push it away. She was so warm, suddenly, shame and all. Maybe it was just curiosity, or frustration, or the ill-used dregs of duty, but Delver had still come looking for her. She hadn't needed him to; they both knew how easily she could work a town, even a small one, when she was being careful. But he had come anyway. 

Even a very useful tool didn't warrant that sort of attention. 

Swallowing the knot building in her throat, Sylda forced a shrug that she hoped looked nonchalant.  

"Well, all the same, I’m glad you didn’t get your fingers cut off. Or fall off a roof. Or get robbed a second time." Delver leveled a glare at her over the bottle of wine, which she returned with a thin smile. “What? I’m serious! It’s a dangerous task, running rooftops like this. I just mean that I’m glad you made it up in one piece, that's all. It would be a pretty terrible birthday present for you to go and die on me."

Delver snorted. "Yeah, happy birthday," he muttered. "Now you’re sitting on a rooftop in the middle of nowhere while I drink away all of the wine that you stole. I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

Sylda just laughed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to correct him.

#my writing #other people's ocs #stonebreaker #thereluctantinquisitor #original fiction #i'm convinced I ran away with the characterization on this #so you have my deep apologies for that #i still hope it brings you a little bit of joy though!! #you deserve all of that and more :D

[spaceexp]

40 years of Ariane

ARIANESPACE - 40 Years of Ariane Odyssey poster. Dec. 19, 2019

First launch of Europe's Ariane in 1979

ESA and partners celebrate 40 years of Ariane – a launch vehicle operating in the international space arena, and a symbol of cooperation and innovation that ensures independent access to space for Europe. On 24 December 1979, the first Ariane 1 was launched from Europe’s Spaceport in Kourou, French Guiana. Launch L01 carried CAT-1, or Technological Capsule 1, a small satellite used to provide data on the launch characteristics of the new rocket and therefore only powered for eight orbits.

Ariane 2 V18

Ariane 1 was the first launch vehicle to be developed with the primary purpose of sending commercial satellites into geostationary orbit. It was designed mainly to deploy two satellites per mission, thus reducing costs. From this first flight, Ariane evolved into a highly reliable rocket boosted by the fast-growing demand for commercial space launches in the 1980s. Operated by Arianespace, Ariane claimed over half the satellite market in this period.

Ariane 3 V10

Altogether, Ariane 1, 2 and 3 launched 28 times between 1979 and 1989, placing a total of 38 satellites in orbit. Ariane 4 entered service in 1988 and made 113 successful launches. Its last was on 15 February 2003. It featured an elongated first stage and strap-on liquid and solid-fuel boosters providing more thrust at liftoff. For this version of Ariane, a lighter Sylda fairing structure was introduced. The Sylda allows two payloads to be stacked one on top of the other.

Ariane 4 and Ariane 5 launchers artist view

Ariane 5 is the result of continual investment in new technology, a wider, heavier and shorter design, and new production methods. This has extended Ariane's benchmark lifting capability from its initial 1850 kg to geostationary orbit, to today’s dual payload record of 10 865 kg to geostationary orbit with an Ariane 5 ECA on 2 June 2017. Ariane 5’s ES was used for various missions, such as the Automated Transfer Vehicle in low orbit and Galileo in medium orbit. It was retired from service on 25 July 2018.

The protective fairing is lowered over Automated Transfer Vehicle Edoardo Amaldi

Europe's Spaceport lies just above the equator in South America, and hosts facilities for Ariane, Soyuz and Vega launchers. Continued updates to the Spaceport’s facilities have kept up with the requirements of each new launch vehicle. The pad used by Ariane 1, 2 and 3 was later repurposed for Vega in 2012 and is currently being modified to accommodate the upcoming more powerful Vega-C successor.

Artist's view of Ariane 6 and Vega-C

ESA is currently preparing for the next decade in space transportation. Part of this involves the transition from Ariane 5 to the new modular Ariane 6 for which a dedicated launch site has been built. Ariane 6 has two versions, Ariane 62 with two strap-on boosters and Ariane 64 with four, for more power. The new Ariane design is intended to serve the diverse needs of a wide range of customers offering new payload dispensers for a variety of configurations while dramatically decreasing the cost of launches compared to Ariane 5.

Ariane 5 liftoff

Changes in the way in which Ariane 6 is assembled, paired with new manufacturing techniques, is set to speed up the turn around time, allowing more Ariane launches than ever before. Europe can celebrate Ariane’s history and look forward to building on its successes through innovation and an extreme design-to-cost approach to maintain its lead in a fiercely competitive launch services market.

40 years of Ariane

Read more about Europe’s Spaceport history and development here: http://www.esa.int/Our_Activities/Space_Transportation/Europe_s_Spaceport/Europe_s_Spaceport2 You can also read the article in the ESA Bulletin 172: http://www.esa.int/About_Us/ESA_Publications/ESA_Bulletin_172_4th_quarter Related links: Sylda: http://www.esa.int/Enabling_Support/Space_Transportation/Deploying_multiple_satellites_with_Sylda_and_Vespa Ariane 5: http://www.esa.int/Enabling_Support/Space_Transportation/Launch_vehicles/Ariane_5 Vega: http://www.esa.int/Enabling_Support/Space_Transportation/Launch_vehicles/Vega Vega-C: http://www.esa.int/Enabling_Support/Space_Transportation/Launch_vehicles/Vega-C Ariane 6: http://ariane6.esa.int/ Images, Video, Text, Credits: ESA/D. Ducros/CNES/Arianespace/Optique Video du CSG/P.Baudon/John Kraus. Best regards, Orbiter.ch Full article

#space #science

[fractalfrequencies]

Squirm: Así que, ¿hay muchos magos y encantadores que ofrecen internados?

Sylda: No, la verdad no. Apenas un diez por ciento de graduados pueden conseguir un lugar con un practicante de magia profesional.

Squirm: Joder. Entonces lo que estás diciendo es que entrenar en esa universidad tuya...puede que no haya servido de nada.

Sylda: ¡No digas eso! Ya...ya encontraré algo.

Squirm: No te escuchas muy segura de eso.

Sylda: Está bien. Está bien. Estoy completamente asustada. Toda mi vida lo único que he querido hacer es magia. Y ahora me está cayendo que quizá nunca pueda hacerlo. No quiero estar atrapada en este lugar para siempre. Pero quizá ya lo estoy. ¿Y si no consigo entrar a un internado? ¿Y si nunca alcanzo a salir de casa de mis padres? Pensé que cuando saldría de la universidad mi vida repentinamente empezaría. Que sabría justo lo que tenía que hacer y cómo hacerlo. Pero no sé nada. Sólo estoy mandando cartas a gente que probablemente nunca las lea. Estoy asustada. Todo. El. Tiempo.

Squirm: Vaya. Parece que te toqué un nervio.

Sylda: Sí. Como que sí lo hiciste. Así que, ¿estás feliz? ¿Ahora que sabes que no tengo ni la menor pinche idea de qué hacer?

Squirm: No. La verdad no.

Sylda: Pues, ¿qué debo de hacer? Enserio. ¿Qué debería de hacer?

Squirm: Yo...no sé.

Sylda: Ugh. Genial.

Squirm: Ahora tráeme un poco de agua. Toda esta angustia me está dando sed.

— The Prickwillow Papers, Ep. 1.1 - Welcome to the Rest of Your Life

#The Prickwillow Papers #translation #traducción #podcast

[epolani-thumein]

There’s a calm beach in Drustivar where Treft and Sylda took a moment to rest. While the two have been able to get comfortable, there’s still a few secrets keeping them focused on their tasks ahead.

#world of warcraft #wow #warcraft #sylda

[dungeons-n-dives]

Sylda, Manducare Elf Ranger; NPC Cultist/Dealer turned P.C.

#aesthetics #d&d #dungeons and dragons #elf #manducare #ranger #alchemist #brewer

[thereluctantinquisitor]

OC-tober Day 4 - Medicine

So heads up for (the, like, five lol) people who might be familiar with Stonebreaker up to this point - there has been some adjusting/reshuffling of the characters to balance things out and help dig me out of this deep writer’s block. So… yeah, just roll with it!

In which Adiran is just relaxing in the one place he feels safe, only for that to all go out (or through) the window (1000 words).

CW for cheap, nasty alcohol.

Prompt is from @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober list!

---

There were very few places Adiran felt were truly his own. The palace belonged to his parents. The city to the people. The training grounds to the soldiers. The gardens were close, but there were always people passing by. Servants whispering as they walked. Gardeners clipping branches and tending to new blooms.

But Adiran’s private rooms? His bedroom, his bath, and the spacious entry for relaxing and receiving guests? Those were his.

It was an unspoken thing, mostly. A person’s private quarters was their space away from the demands of the outside world. Even his mother and father had separate entry rooms and baths, connected by a central bedchamber. As it turned out, even Kings and Queens needed a break from each other. 

Which was what made it all the stranger when he heard a frantic tapping at his window. 

On the third floor.

Frowning, hand automatically dropping to where his sword would have been, Adiran slowly made his way towards the Valcretian windows. Designed to help circulate air in the humid Rosemarsh climate, they had two large ornate panels that swing outward, latched at the centre by a gilded hook. The royal palace simply used the design because it was foreign, and therefore expensive and desirable. Despite their beauty, Adiran’s were almost always covered by a thick blue curtain, designed to block both light and prying eyes. He kept them drawn so often he could actually see a fine layer of dust gathered on the dark material. The house staff would have a fit, if they were ever permitted inside his chambers.

Three sharp taps again, more insistent this time. A muffled sound accompanied them as well; a single - rather colourful - word in a voice that was entirely too familiar.

Heart squeezing, Adiran ripped the curtain aside to find Sylda crouching on a branch of the towering Ashewood just outside his window. Let me in, asshole, she mouthed, pointing exasperatedly at the latch. Still at a loss for words, Adiran unhooked it and shoved open one of the panels. The thief, all elbows and knees, spilled into his room like a toppled pitcher. “Ugh - finally,” she said, picking herself up off the carpet and dusting the bark and leaves off her clothes. “Thought I’d have to spit on a guard just to get some attention around here.”

“I… what… how…?” Adiran just gaped as Sylda shook out her gangly limbs, snapped the curtains shut again, and proceeded with cat-like curiosity to poke around his room.

“Who, what, when?” she teased, dropping her voice in imitation of his own. Distracted, she gave a low whistle as she prodded his duvet. “Divider’s Own - I reckon your bed’s as big as my entire room!”

“What— I—” Adiran caught himself mid-stammer, partly because the look Sylda gave him made it clear she would not hold back a second time. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? How the fuck did you get in here?”

“Window.”

“That’s not what I—” Adrian cringed and lowered his voice. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

She just grinned, spun around, and flopped bodily onto his rumpled bed. “And you know that’s a secret. A trick of the trade, as they say. I can’t just go telling anyone how to sneak in here.” Sighing, she seemed to all but melt into the soft mattress. “It’d be bad for business. And for you, probably. Wouldn’t want any unsavory sorts climbing in through your window at all hours of the day.”

“Yes. That would be terrible.”

“Right?”

Judging by Sylda’s tone, the finer details of just how many people might actually know how to sneak onto palace grounds was, evidently, a matter for another day. Running an agitated hand down his face, Adiran double-checked the window before turning back to confront his latest problem. “Can you at least tell me what you’re doing here?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Sitting up, legs crossed, her boots leaving dirty streaks on his covers, Sylda swung her battered satchel around until it was resting square in her lap. “Hadn’t seen you around in a while. Figured you might’ve caught something nasty last time you were out mingling with us low-folk. So…”

Before Adiran could even muster an indignant response, she pulled out a bottle of something painfully familiar. “You didn’t,” was all he said, aghast, before a wicked grin lit up her face. 

“Didn’t… what? Bring you some medicine, like the kind and thoughtful friend I am?” Her smile widened as she held the bottle aloft, swaying it enticingly. “Damn right I did. Now, you got cups in this fancy palace of yours, or are we swigging?”

Adiran was still trying to process what was happening. Taking his silence as some kind of response, Sylda shrugged and tugged the cork out with her teeth, barely managing to catch a stray droplet on her outstretched palm before it stained his sheets. 

“Wait... you... you seriously broke in here just to torture me with Palmaros Red?” Adiran had had a rough time, after his introduction to that particularly deceptive breed of swill. It was just sweet enough that you could comfortably polish off a whole bottle before the suffering kicked in. Despite his hesitation, Adiran found himself sliding onto the bed beside Sylda, doing everything in his power not to dwell on the suspicious brown streaks left by her boots. “Do you hate me or something?”

Rolling her eyes, Sylda took a long, deep pull of the wine, throat bobbing as she swallowed it with a belligerence that bordered on terrifying. Veteran though she was, even she winced at the after-burn as it went down. “Smooth as gravel,” she rasped, then turned her attention back to Adiran. “And do you really reckon I’d come all this way for someone I hate?” Before he could reply, she shoved the bottle at his chest. “Just drink up, princeling. It’s been quiet without you around to talk shit with me.”

Wrapping a hand obediently around the bottle, Adiran regarded it with pure disdain, almost wishing Sylda had just left him entirely alone. But, of course, that thought drained away when he glanced up to find her watching him fondly, lips twisted in amusement, dark brows raised expectantly, mouth tinged a tell-tale red. That strange pressure in his chest suddenly returned, almost making it hard to breathe.

What could he have possibly done, to make someone go to all this trouble just to drink utter piss with him? 

In truth, he didn’t know. He felt like he barely knew anything, these days. Not where other people were involved. But despite his own self-doubts... there she was. Sitting in the last place he ever expected to see her. A surprisingly welcome sight, even in the one place he dared to call his own.

So, with a defeated sigh, he plucked a stray leaf out of her curly hair, and took his damn medicine.

#oc-tober #oc tober #oc-tober 2021 #oc tober 2021 #original writing #stonebreaker series #reluctant writes #adiran #sylda #yeah things just werent working with sylda over in the Other Plot #she was a last-minute addition to the cast and it always felt like it while writing #but she fills a need over in Talvera with Adiran and Riin so that's where she lives now lmao #and she will still play a very important role - just in a different way

[skyfullofpods]

P is for The Prickwillow Papers!

Comedy fantasy. Sylda is a half-elf, who has moved back in with her parents after recently graduating from the College of Mages. Prickwillow is a sleepy little town, there’s never anything to do, and Sylda doesn’t expect anything exciting to happen to her. That is, until she meets Squirm the fay, and her life gets turned upside down.

#The Prickwillow Papers #Random Podcast Recommendations #audio fiction #audio drama #podcasts #podcast recommendations #podcast recs

[equalseleventhirds]

the prickwillow papers? delightful modern fantasy. interesting magical worldbuilding. snarky fairy. interested to see where sylda goes bcos i’m certain she’s going on an Adventure.

#algie's podcast marathon #a little bit moaning abt her Normal Problems but there is also a wounded fairy hidden in her room so i have Expectations #not very comedic but also not super serious and the fairy does provide some snark

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

40 years of Ariane ESA and partners celebrate 40 years of Ariane – a launch vehicle operating in the international space arena, and a symbol of cooperation and innovation that ensures independent access to space for Europe. On 24 December 1979, the first Ariane 1 was launched from Europe’s Spaceport in Kourou, French Guiana. Launch L01 carried CAT-1, or Technological Capsule 1, a small satellite used to provide data on the launch characteristics of the new rocket and therefore only powered for eight orbits. Ariane 1 was the first launch vehicle to be developed with the primary purpose of sending commercial satellites into geostationary orbit. It was designed mainly to deploy two satellites per mission, thus reducing costs. From this first flight, Ariane evolved into a highly reliable rocket boosted by the fast-growing demand for commercial space launches in the 1980s. Operated by Arianespace, Ariane claimed over half the satellite market in this period. Altogether, Ariane 1, 2 and 3 launched 28 times between 1979 and 1989, placing a total of 38 satellites in orbit. Ariane 4 entered service in 1988 and made 113 successful launches. Its last was on 15 February 2003. It featured an elongated first stage and strap-on liquid and solid-fuel boosters providing more thrust at liftoff. For this version of Ariane, a lighter Sylda fairing structure was introduced. The Sylda allows two payloads to be stacked one on top of the other. Ariane 5 is the result of continual investment in new technology, a wider, heavier and shorter design, and new production methods. This has extended Ariane's benchmark lifting capability from its initial 1850 kg to geostationary orbit, to today’s dual payload record of 10 865 kg to geostationary orbit with an Ariane 5 ECA on 2 June 2017. Ariane 5’s ES was used for various missions, such as the Automated Transfer Vehicle in low orbit and Galileo in medium orbit. It was retired from service on 25 July 2018. Europe's Spaceport lies just above the equator in South America, and hosts facilities for Ariane, Soyuz and Vega launchers. Continued updates to the Spaceport’s facilities have kept up with the requirements of each new launch vehicle. The pad used by Ariane 1, 2 and 3 was later repurposed for Vega in 2012 and is currently being modified to accommodate the upcoming more powerful Vega-C successor. ESA is currently preparing for the next decade in space transportation. Part of this involves the transition from Ariane 5 to the new modular Ariane 6 for which a dedicated launch site has been built. Ariane 6 has two versions, Ariane 62 with two strap-on boosters and Ariane 64 with four, for more power. The new Ariane design is intended to serve the diverse needs of a wide range of customers offering new payload dispensers for a variety of configurations while dramatically decreasing the cost of launches compared to Ariane 5. Changes in the way in which Ariane 6 is assembled, paired with new manufacturing techniques, is set to speed up the turn around time, allowing more Ariane launches than ever before. Europe can celebrate Ariane’s history and look forward to building on its successes through innovation and an extreme design-to-cost approach to maintain its lead in a fiercely competitive launch services market. IMAGE 1...The first successful launch of the European launcher, Ariane 1, on 24 December 1979 from Kourou, French Guiana. IMAGE 2...As the size of satellites grew, Ariane 1 gave way in 1984 to the more powerful Ariane 2 and 3, and these in turn were superseded by Ariane 4 in 1988. This is the first launch of Ariane 2, flight V18 on 30 May 1986, carrying Intelsat 5a F14. IMAGE 3...Launch of first Ariane 3 flight V10 from Europe's Spaceport in French Guiana, on 4 August 1984, carrying ECS-2 and Telecom-1A satellites. IMAGE 4...Ariane 4 is justly known as the ‘workhorse’ of the Ariane family. Since its first flight on 15 June 1988 it has made over 100 successful launches. The Ariane 4 has proved ideal for launching satellites for communications and Earth observation, as well as for scientific research. This launcher is extremely versatile. The first stage can hold two or four strap-on boosters, or none at all. This means that it can lift into orbit satellites weighing from 2000 to nearly 4800 kg in GTO, nearly three times as much as the Ariane-3 launcher. Now its role is gradually being taken over by the Ariane-5 launcher and the last Ariane-4 flight is expected to take place in 2003. Ariane 4 has captured 50% of the market in launching commercial satellites showing that Europe can more than hold its own in the commercial launch market. Ariane 5 is designed to meet the challenges of the new millennium. It meets several requirements: the ability to launch larger satellites, the increasing use of low orbits for servicing the International Space Station and the need to reduce costs while maintaining a high reliability. Its first successful launch took place on 30 October 1997 while its first operational flight occurred in December 1999, when it launched ESA’s X-ray Multi-Mirror (XMM). Ariane 5 has proved highly reliable and economic, and has been used to launch satellites for communications, Earth observation and scientific research into geostationary orbits and Sun-synchronous orbits. ESA had to build a new launch site at Europe’s spaceport in Kourou for this new member of the Ariane family as well as facilities to make the solid boosters needed to launch this, the most powerful launcher in the Ariane family. Ariane 5 can be used for launches into geostationary orbit, medium-Earth orbit and low-Earth orbit, as well as for launches to other planets. IMAGE 5...ESA and European industry are currently developing a new-generation launcher: Ariane 6. This follows the decision taken at the ESA Council meeting at Ministerial level in December 2014, to maintain Europe’s leadership in the fast-changing commercial launch service market while responding to the needs of European institutional missions. This move is associated with a change in the governance of the European launcher sector, based on a sharing of responsibility, cost and risk by ESA and industry. The participating states are: Austria, Belgium, Czech Republic, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Netherlands, Norway, Romania, Spain, Sweden and Switzerland. On the wave of Vega’s success, Member States at the ESA Ministerial meeting in December 2014 agreed to develop the more powerful Vega-C to respond to an evolving market and to long-term institutional needs. Vega-C is expected to debut in mid-2019, increasing performance from Vega’s current 1.5 t to about 2.2 t in a reference 700 km polar orbit, covering identified European institutional users’ mission needs, with no increase in launch service and operating costs.

#space #science #spaceflight #ESA #ariane

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 2: Mercy + “That’s the easy part”

Day 2 of @oc-growth-and-development​’s OC-tober challenge and the @fictober-event​. Another successful merging of the two prompts, which I think paired rather well today!

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Characters: Sylda & Valesha Warnings: descriptions of blood, language

“Act natural. We’re being followed.”

Sylda’s spine stiffened, her shoulders rising, her grip on the leather-wrapped bundle tightening as she clutched it to her chest. “What?” she breathed. She didn’t dare speak louder than a whisper, ears straining, hairs rising on the back of her neck and arms. On either side, the walls of the buildings rose two storeys high, their crumbling stone and sun-bleached wood giving the alley a ghostly, forgotten appearance. It was unsettling at the best of times, yet alone in the middle of the night. “Val, you’d better not be messing with me. This isn’t funn--” 

Beside her, Valesha continued her ambling stroll, one hand buried in her pocket, the other swinging casually by her side. Lanky, with knife-cropped hair and a face full of sharp angles, most readily mistook her for a young man. Wandering about after dark in her loose shirt and trousers only enhanced the effect. While Valesha’s posture gave nothing away, it was the look she shot, dark but burning like hot coals, that silenced Sylda mid-sentence.

“Shut up,” Val hissed. The hand in her pocket shifted slightly, adjusting its grip on something. “Behind us. Left side.” The silver light from Anayh, the smallest but brightest moon, cut the alley at an angle, illuminating the taller woman’s head and shoulder. “Just keep walking.”

Mustering the faintest of nods, Sylda did as she was told, continuing forward, heart stammering. Her arms and legs seemed to vibrate, palms sweating as nervous energy coursed through her. The awkward bundle pressed to her chest suddenly felt uncomfortably heavy. Uncomfortably obvious, like a beacon to every thief and cut-purse looking for an easy mark.

Gods above and below, why did we have to take the alleys? 

It wasn’t their territory. The Copper Hawks owned the rooftops - everyone knew that. It made for risky travel and easy escapes, the two often balancing each other out among their less skilled members, but serving the veterans well. But some jobs didn’t lend themselves to running along ridges and leaping between eaves. This time, it was the weight of the parcel and the delicacy of its contents. One wrong step on a rooftop, and the entire job would have been for nothing. She didn’t even want to imagine Davros’ face if that happened. No, Sylda was not going back to the nest empty-handed. Not again.

Never again.

“Drop!”

Valesha’s voice was a whip, cracking through the alley. Immediately, Sylda threw herself forward, twisting mid-air to keep the satchel skyward. Her back struck the broken cobbles, a shock of pain ringing from her spine to her teeth as she clutched their prize to her chest, both arms wrapped over it like a scaly creshek guarding its egg. Inside, she felt something creak slightly, but nothing seemed to to crack of splinter. Maybe it was true what everyone said, and The Errant Queen really was watching over her.

Or maybe the goddess was just biding her time.

Even as Sylda fell, Valesha was moving. She spun, heel grinding against the ground, her hand a blur as it snapped from her pocket and sent something bright and curved whistling into the dark side of the alley. Sounds pierced the thrum in Sylda’s ears; a yelp of shock, a wet wheeze, boots scrabbling frantically over dust and stone. Valesha, now facing into the alley, already had the tip of another talon jutting from between her thumb and forefinger, arm poised for a second throw. Sylda used to fall asleep to the sound of her practicing, the thud of the curved metal biting into wood strangely comforting as she hit her mark over and over again.

This time was no exception.

As Valesha positioned herself in the center of the alley, Sylda pushed herself further towards the street, careful not to lose grip on the leather-wrapped bundle. Distance is your friend, girl. Find it. Strike from it. Flee towards it. Just past Val, two shapes were moving, one stumbling out of a side alley, the other hanging back, hesitant to follow. As one of the figures - a man with stringing black hair and a close-cropped beard - spilled into the light, he fell to his knees, hands groping at the side of his neck. Throat tight, Sylda could only watch as he tugged - once, twice, three times - the warning on her tongue unable to make it past her bloodless lips. 

Don’t. Don’t try to pull it out.

On the fourth try, he succeeded. Val’s talon ripped free, the hook halfway up its length tearing through flesh, taking a chunk of his neck with it. The silver light made the blood appear black as it sprayed then pulsed in hideous gouts from the wound. The man, panicking, tried to stem the flow, but his hands were clumsy and shaking. It was over in seconds. With a final judder, fingers straining, eyes wide with shock, he slumped to the side. Limp. Lifeless.

There was still one more.

“Last chance, little rat.” Valesha’s voice was colder than the steel at her fingertips. She had never been a warm person, but something about her, half-washed in moonlight, a corpse framed by the stance of her legs, sent a shiver across Sylda’s skin. “Run back home before I change my mind.”

The sound of footsteps fading into the distance was Sylda’s only clue that their second tail had taken Valesha’s sage advice and fled. Breathing hard, she slowly struggled to her feet as Val knelt beside the dead body, hands patting along his limbs, hunting for hidden pockets, pieces of paper, something to sell. By the time Sylda was standing again, her breathing leveling out, Valesha had returned empty-handed, a sour look pinching her narrow face. “Fucker could have at least had some sicets on him,” she muttered, then held up her bloody talon. “Look at this shit. By the time we get back, it’ll be all dried on. I’ll be stuck for hours scratching it off.”

It was a little hard to feel sympathetic, all things considered. Luckily, Val never wanted anyone’s sympathy, yet alone Sylda’s. Muttering darkly, the woman shook it once, scattering tiny droplets on the alley wall, then shoved it back in her pocket. Lovely.

As Valesha beckoned her over to check the parcel, Sylda found her eyes drifting back to the corpse. She’d thought he was an old man, at first. The way he moved seemed stilted, like the grind had set itself deep in his bones. But up close, she could see she was wrong. Lying in a pool of black, his skin was still smooth, his hands dirty and stained but unmistakably youthful. If she had to guess, she might have placed him in his mid-twenties. Certainly no more than thirty dry seasons.

And now, he was dead.

She supposed it wasn’t so bad. Most barely made it halfway before meeting similarly ugly fates.

“Sylda?” Valesha’s voice tugged her attention away from the body. She was frowning, her dark brows angled sharply down as she readjusted the bundle’s leather wrapping. “What’s the matter with you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen blood before.”

Of course she had. As much as any of the others. Probably almost as much as Val, who had been in this business from the day she could walk. But, strangely, it wasn’t the dead man that had her so unsettled.

“You let the other one go.”

Val stepped back, jaw tightening, expression closing off. “So? Got a problem with that?”

They started walking again, faster than before, not wanting to linger. Even though most of the grey coats patrolling the streets turned a blind eye to murders among thieves, it was still never a good idea to be caught with a fresh body. You never knew when one of them might actually feel like doing their job. Swallowing, Sylda hurried to keep pace, Val’s long legs leaving her scampering.

“I just… didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Why not.”

This was dangerous territory. Sylda had to choose her next words carefully unless she wanted to be sleeping alone for a turn or two. “It’s just… you always say that if you’re going to make a kill, you’ve gotta do it once and do it right. Mercy just seems…”

Sylda trailed off, knowing she was toeing a very fine line. Luckily, Valesha seemed strangely willing to continue the thread. “It seems like taking the easy way out.”

Feeling a little sheepish, Sylda just nodded. It wasn’t that she thought mercy was weak. It as just... unusual, given who they were. What they did.

“C’mon, Sylda.” Val shook her head sharply. It was clear she was still on edge, all senses on the look-out for trouble. “Killing some idiot in a back alley? That’s the easy part. That sorry bastard didn’t stand a chance. But knowing when to let them go…” Pausing to check their surroundings, the pair exited onto the street, crossing quickly before slipping into an even narrower alley on the other side. “Mercy’s a lot harder,” Val continued, finishing her thought as they made a left, then a sharp right, losing themselves in Yelen’s tangled warren.

In a way, Sylda supposed what she said made sense. Death was just death. Letting someone live had a lot more uncertainty involved.

“I guess he might be a problem, in the future.”

Val nodded. “He could be.”

Sylda glanced across, regarding her partner for a moment. The moon was higher now, and the shadows rushed to full the hollows of Val’s cheeks, making her appear unusually gaunt.

“But you don’t think he will, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why?” She adjusted her grip on the package, arms starting to ache now that the nervous energy had worn off. “I just don’t get it. How can you know something like that?”

“I never know. I just… get a feeling, sometimes.” As their surroundings grew more and more rundown, they slipped under a section of broken wall, only a few feet between its crumbling base and the dust-covered ground. Val paused on the other side to take the bundle from Sylda, allowing her to navigate the tight space. “This one tonight? He was just a fucking kid. Couldn’t have seen more than ten or eleven dry seasons.” She shrugged and, to Sylda’s quiet dismay, passed the bundle back once she was through the gap. Turning, thrusting her hand back in her pocket, Val led the through the abandoned building’s ground floor. “I guess I just ask myself: will killing this person make my life easier? If the answer is ‘no’, then...”

She shrugged, the gesture seeming to suggest the conversation was over.

Unfortunately, Sylda had always been good at ignoring those kinds of cues.

“What if he comes looking for you?”

Val scoffed, the sound echoing around the broken building. “Then he’s an idiot and I’ll go ahead and finish him off. But I really don’t see that happening. Do you?”

If he was as young as Val claimed, Sylda supposed she had a point. Besides, the kid hadn’t exactly caused them any trouble. Gods, he didn’t even bother trying to help his companion as he bled out in the alley. Knowing the way of the streets, there probably wasn’t any kind of bond between them. Just necessity. A set of eyes to watch your back, and report back if you die. Such was the way of things.

They walked in silence for a time, both women lost in their own thoughts. Sylda’s were split between her own doubts and the ache in her arms, but Val seemed unusually troubled. Her hand shifted in her pocket rhythmically, and Sylda could imagine the motion of her fingertips as they traced the talon’s wicked edge. One wrong move, and she’d be adding her own blood to the mix. She liked to play those sorts of games; test herself in strange, unsettling ways. Inevitably, she would slip up, then spend the rest of the evening glaring sullenly at her bandaged fingers.

Nope. Not on my watch.

“Well,” Sylda said, rolling her shoulders as they finally reached the last stretch of their journey, “I guess one good thing came of letting that kid go.”

“Oh yeah?” It was nice to hear a bit of humour back in Val’s voice. Her dark brown eyes flicked across. “And what’s that?”

A playful smile spreading across her face, Sylda nudged her with an elbow. “You don’t have to spend the night scratching blood off two talons.”

Rolling her eyes, Val groaned. But she slid her hand out of her pocket, reached across, and draped her arm over Sylda’s shoulders, so she figured her tasteless comment had been worth it.

“Wow. Morbid,” Val said. Then she grinned, and immediately set Sylda’s heart into an energetic flutter. “That’s why I like you.”

#oc-tober #fictober20 #sylda #valesha #sylda valesha #prompt #sylda prompt #yelen #sylda yelen #I've been meaning to spend a bit more time fleshing out Sylda's backstory #so this feels like a good opportunity to do it! #and i actually remembered to tag properly this time unlike day 1 lol #StonebreakerSeries #sylda writing #valesha writing

[sciencespies]

Arianespace lofts three spacecraft in first Ariane 5 launch since start of pandemic 

https://sciencespies.com/space/arianespace-lofts-three-spacecraft-in-first-ariane-5-launch-since-start-of-pandemic/

Arianespace lofts three spacecraft in first Ariane 5 launch since start of pandemic 

WASHINGTON — Arianespace on Aug. 15 launched two communications satellites and a satellite servicer on an Ariane 5 rocket, completing the company’s first launch since the reopening of the Guiana Space Center in Kourou, French Guiana. 

Ariane 5 lifted off at 6:04 p.m. Eastern and deployed the spacecraft into geostationary transfer orbits over the course of 48 minutes. The launch was delayed two weeks to replace a problematic sensor on the rocket’s first stage, and again by a day because of upper level winds. Weather introduced a 34-minute delay prior to liftoff.  

The launch is Arianespace’s first from the Guiana Space Center in six months, and first overall in five months. The European launch provider’s last mission was a March Soyuz launch from Russia’s Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan on behalf of OneWeb, the megaconstellation startup that stopped launching that same month after filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. 

Arianespace had suspended launches from Kourou in March shortly after the World Health Organization declared the coronavirus had reached pandemic levels. The French government, which operates the spaceport through its space agency CNES, began discouraging travel around that time and reduced activity at the spaceport. 

CNES and Arianespace resumed spaceport activities in French Guiana in May, paving the way for Ariane 5 and Vega launches, which only take place from the Guiana Space Center. 

Arianespace’s Aug. 15 Ariane 5 launch, designated VA253, was unique in that it carried three multi-ton spacecraft instead of two. It is the first time an Ariane 5 has launched three spacecraft to geostationary transfer orbit. 

The rocket’s upper berth housed Northrop Grumman’s second satellite servicer, MEV-2, with the Galaxy-30 communications satellite for Intelsat stacked atop. The third spacecraft, Japanese operator Bsat’s Bsat-4b satellite, occupied the lower berth, which is typically reserved for lighter satellites. A protective case called a SYLDA separated Bsat-4b from the stacked spacecraft. 

The three spacecraft collectively weighed about 9,700 kilograms. Arianespace said the Ariane 5 debuted improvements from to support a maximum of 10,200 kilograms of payload to geostationary transfer orbit, an 85-kilogram increase.

“As part of this mission, three satellites were deployed by the most powerful Ariane 5 ever launched,” Arianespace CEO Stéphane Israël said in a news release after the launch.

ArianeGroup, manufacturer of the Ariane 5, said the rocket has increased in payload capacity by 300 kilograms since 2016. 

The next-generation Ariane 6, expected to launch no earlier than the second half of 2021, is designed to lift up to 11,500 kilograms to geostationary transfer orbit, with room to improve in later years. ArianeGroup is also building that rocket. 

Three spacecraft, three missions

Northrop Grumman has a contract with Intelsat to extend the life of the 16-year-old Intelsat 10-02 communications satellite by five years. The companies agreed to dock MEV-2 and Intelsat 10-02 directly in geostationary orbit, an event that may require the satellite to pause service for 20 to 30 minutes, according to Intelsat. The two spacecraft will dock in 2021, Stephen Spengler, Intelsat chief executive, said during a prerecorded launch video. 

Northrop Grumman’s first servicer, MEV-1, is also docked with an Intelsat satellite, but that took place in a “graveyard orbit” a few hundred kilometers above active satellites in the geostationary arc. Northrop Grumman and Intelsat said they learned enough from that experience in February to simplify the process this time by conducting the docking in geostationary orbit. 

Northrop Grumman also built Intelsat’s new Galaxy-30 satellite, which carries C-band transponders for broadcast services and Ku- and Ka-band transponders for broadband connectivity over North America. Galaxy-30 also carries an L-band hosted payload from Leidos for the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration that hones GPS signals for aircraft as part of the Wide Area Augmentation System.

The satellite is the first in a series of replacements for Intelsat’s Galaxy fleet, which consists of 10 satellites over North and South America. Intelsat’s global fleet numbers around 50 satellites. 

Galaxy-30 is a replacement for Intelsat’s Galaxy-14 satellite, an 11-year-old satellite from Maxar Technologies that launched on a United Launch Alliance Atlas 5 in 2009. Intelsat is not seeking reimbursement for the satellite as part of its effort to clear C-band spectrum in the United States for the Federal Communications Commission. 

Intelsat ordered Galaxy-30 before the FCC had decided to auction 300 megahertz of C-band spectrum and require satellite operators to vacate the spectrum. The company has ordered six C-band replacement satellites (four from Maxar Technologies and two from Northrop Grumman) to continue service with less spectrum and pursue $4.87 billion in accelerated spectrum clearing payments, and is in negotiations with manufacturers for one more satellite. 

Bsat-4b is a backup for another Bsat satellite, Bsat-4a, which launched in 2017, also on an Ariane 5 rocket. The company ordered Bsat-4b from Maxar Technologies in 2018 with the anticipation of having the satellite in orbit ahead of the 2020 Tokyo Olympic Games, which have since been delayed to 2021 because of the coronavirus pandemic. Bsat-4b carries a Ku-band payload for television broadcasting in resolutions up to 8K ultra-HD. 

Israël said Arianespace’s next launch will be a long awaited Vega mission on Sept. 1 carrying 53 smallsats. That mission was planned for June, but experienced delays because of persistent upper level winds.

#Space

#Space