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bouwrites · 1 year ago

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Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 85

Following a Dream

Ao3.

First, Previous, Last.

Story under read-more.

It happens in the blue hours of morning, when the air is bright, but not yet warm. It happens in an instant, then grows like an avalanche. It happens quiet.

It happens, as these are wont to do, just as Veery settles down into a nap.

Something washes through the monastery like a flood. It envelops Veery and makes him bristle automatically. And then there is a burst, like a bubble over Garreg Mach has finally popped, and it sends Veery leaping to his feet.

His blood pounds in his ears and his breath comes out in heaving, heavy, hoary smoke, but otherwise it’s quiet. Suddenly, it’s too quiet. There is no meowing of housecats or barking of dogs. No chirping of birds, and even the owls that fly messages around are nowhere to be found.

It’s just him, his breath and rapidly tightening chest, and the gentle windsong through the leaves.

And then the cacophony comes.

All at once, screaming erupts throughout the monastery. Veery can hear at least four different locations. A monk in the courtyard he’s resting in doubles over without warning, screaming bloody murder and clutching at his head.

The monk crumples, then huge white wings burst out from him.

It’s more reaction than purpose that leads to the massive spears of ice shooting up from the earth, straight through the man’s still-shifting body and wings. The shock of it, the feeling in the air, it makes Veery jump and the next thing he knows that shifting monk is skewered on half a glacier.

The monk just keeps screaming. His writhing breaks some of the ice, but when he morphs fully into a great white dragon, Veery at once knows who is responsible for this, and casts Blizzard with much more intent.

The dragon rises a meter off the ground, skewered fully on the pillars of ice. What movement he has left is quickly snuffed out with more ice, freezing the thing in place. All it can do is roar plaintively by the time Veery takes a single curious step towards it.

When he does, a figure in white comes barreling around the corner. “Vee- What in the world is that? What is going on?” Catherine skids to a stop next to him, wincing as she warily eyes the strange dragon.

It looks almost half-formed to Veery. The main features are all there – the wings, the horns, the right appendages – but its skin is… it looks more like overgrown, tangled roots than actual skin. It certainly makes up a whole creature, but… There’s no hide like Marianne has. There are no scales. Just this odd, vine-like appearance which, with the dragon helpless, begin to look more like veins.

“Ugh,” Catherine winces again, bringing a hand to her head. “Damn it. What’s wrong with me?”

Veery eyes her, concerned, and chirps.

Catherine huffs. “Nothing, don’t worry. Just a sudden headache.”

A headache? Now? That can’t be a coincidence. Why would… Didn’t Catherine say once that the reason she adores Rhea is because Rhea saved her life?

This malformed dragon… it growls at him as he approaches, but he examines it more closely anyway. This is… Rhea.

Veery eyes the dragon, then Catherine, then back and forth again. His mind is working overtime to piece things together enough to make a coherent story.

“Nngh.” Catherine grunts again, actually faltering this now, and Veery realizes that he has no time.

He shifts back so that he can speak and roughly grabs Catherine by the shoulder. His other hand finds her sword hand, and Thunderbrand which remains tight in her grip. “Catherine,” he says. “Look at me.”

Her eyes meet his. Veery holds tight to her hand and Thunderbrand, and brings it up between them, noting how the Crest Stone gleams. He doesn’t have time to explain anything – he barely understands anything – but he has an idea of something to try and he has to do it now because if he doesn’t, then Catherine might very well turn into one of those crazed white dragons, too.

(Veery can hear them, more of them, rampaging in other areas of the monastery.)

“Rhea saved your life once, right?” he asks. “How?”

Catherine blinks, bewildered. “How? What do you mean how? And what does that have to do with-?”

“How?” he demands. There’s no time for waffling. He needs to know so he can act.

“I- Faith magic and medicine? I don’t get what you’re asking.”

“Were you awake for your treatment? Do you remember if Rhea was ever left alone with you while you were asleep or unconscious?”

Catherine grunts again, holding her brow even as she glowers. “What, you think Lady Rhea has something to do with this? You think she did something to me? Something that-” She cuts herself off, then, looking alarmed at the dragon still helplessly crucified on the ice. “I’m going to turn into that?”

Veery’s grip on her tightens, and he shakes her a little, dragging her attention back to him. He doesn’t really get an answer, but a battlefield medic can’t always wait for one. He has a best guess, and he has to act now or it will be too late. “Do you trust me?” he asks, looking straight into her eyes for permission.

Catherine stares for only a fleeting moment. Then, she sets her jaw and nods.

Veery raises her sword arm and shoves the flat of Thunderbrand against her. “Then listen.”

In truth, Veery isn’t sure that Catherine has any idea what that means, as he can’t remember if anyone has ever explained that phenomenon to her, much less the possibility that humans with Crests can do so as well. But he hasn’t the time to explain it to her.

After too long, long enough for Veery to worry, Catherine sets her countenance once more. For all their differences, all that they will never understand about the other, one thing they have in common is the battlefield. Catherine is a warrior before all else. She understands well the urgency of battle. She understands that, even if she doesn’t understand the situation or her orders, she must still act immediately or forfeit her life.

And so, she acts. She listens. It’s the briefest of moments, like with Claude, and the most distant of brushes, but he feels her heart and he does not spare the time to allow it to slip away. The moment he feels the opening, he dives in. Wholly and without hesitation, he dives.

And then, he burns.

Catherine winces, instinctively pulling away, but Veery tightens his grip on her and holds fast. Open to each other like this, Veery still cannot possibly hope to understand the why of Catherine’s feelings, of her devotion, but he certainly can understand the feelings themselves.

They are intense, all-consuming, and shrouded entirely in Rhea. Catherine’s very heart, her soul, is flush with her. And that’s ridiculous to Veery, but it’s fine. It’s a whole different level which concerns him. Because it is not just Catherine’s mind and heart, but her body as well.

When Veery closes his eyes, he feels almost as if he can see through Catherine. He can see the myriad systems which make the body. He can see her Crest, tied up in the Crest Stone in Thunderbrand. And he can see the leftover fragments of something foreign – more foreign than the Crest, at any rate.

Rhea. Blood experiments. Veery would not have thought that dragon blood can be used to heal, and so he naturally has no clue what the process might have entailed, but he has that much information at least.

The others who transformed into those white beasts… how many people did Rhea give her blood to? Why? What did she hope to gain?

But Veery has no time to contemplate. He can see that infection mostly because of how virulent and violent it is. It throbs, malevolent, and tries to overtake the rest of Catherine.

Veery thinks, taking in the scene, that the only reason Catherine hasn’t already succumbed is because her own Crest is fighting it. That explains why those other monks transformed so much faster – they are almost certainly Crestless.

There’s a desperate insistence nagging at him, where his soul brushes Catherine’s. Catherine’s worry and plea for him to hurry up so she knows she will not succumb. Veery will grant her desire. Like that day in the Sealed Forest purging a horrible poison, he burns Rhea’s foreign blood out of Catherine.

(He doesn’t have all the information, but a battlefield medic cannot always wait for it. He doesn’t know if Rhea’s blood is important for Catherine’s continued health, or if it is truly just a remnant of an old procedure. But he has suspicions and best guesses, and he thinks Catherine should be okay.)

It all happens quietly, in a flash, and then it’s over. Veery releases Catherine, winces sheepishly before healing the burns on her shoulder and hand where he grabs her, and turns away.

“That did it, then?” Catherine asks. “The headache’s gone…”

“It should,” Veery says, “but I don’t have much more information than you do. We’ll fight together until this is over and we have more time to look closer. If anything seems amiss, let me know.”

Catherine nods. “I can do that. But this is… Lady Rhea’s doing?”

“Something about her blood,” Veery says. “I assume she’s finally lost it and anyone who has her blood is… resonating with her uncontrolled power? But I’m making a lot of assumptions. I don’t know how it works.”

Catherine scowls for a moment. “There’s a rite,” she admits. “Only the highest of the clergy undergo it. I don’t know all the details, but it involves a gift of Lady Rhea’s blood and a shard of a Crest Stone.”

“A shard?” Veery hisses.

Catherine slowly shakes her head. “I guess if Lady Rhea gifted me her blood when she healed me, Thunderbrand’s Crest Stone puts me in almost the same position as those cardinals. Lucky I ran into you so fast.”

“Lucky you have a Crest,” Veery sighs. “If you were Crestless, you wouldn’t have had the time to find me. Having a whole Crest stone versus a shard might’ve helped you too.”

Catherine shivers. “Well, I’m glad you were here either way. Let’s put down the other… dragons? and find Lady Rhea. Whatever’s happening, we have to stop it.”

Veery nods. “I’ll follow you,” he says. He doesn’t think he can convince her, or that she really needs, to sit out this battle. That whole ordeal can’t have been easy on her, but she’s nowhere near weak enough that she can’t fight. “Lead the way.”

He shifts, catches Catherine’s surprised, but assured and steady gaze, and together they set off into the monastery.

Veery isn’t expecting resistance. Aside from the White Beasts, which he can pinpoint due to how loud the destruction they’re causing is, he expects that it’ll be a straight shot to where Rhea is at the cathedral. After all, who would fight them when rampaging dragons are wrecking the monastery?

He’s certainly not expecting to see one of the golems from the Holy Tomb guarding the bridge.

The Immaculate One’s suffering roar slices through the air, confirming their destination, but Veery and Catherine still can’t see her themselves. Instead they find themselves preparing for battle on that narrow bridge.

Veery uses Blizzard, attempting to just cover the whole width of the bridge and toss the golem over the side, but it retaliates with a spear of light which shatters his spell half-formed.

Well. They’ll charge it, then.

Thankfully, the golem is closer to them than the far side of the bridge, so between him and Catherine, they’re more than speedy and distracting enough to cover each other and close the space.

Thunderbrand shreds the thing’s armor, and Veery slowly but surely burns the thing from within, targeting each weak point Catherine opens up. He doesn’t have an opportunity to jump on and hold like he likes to do with the titanus because their arena is too narrow – he’d risk getting thrown off – but he still uses the same strategy, sending bursts in the opened armor until magical fire is spilling out from them.

A buffeting gale suddenly whips by from behind him, cutting savagely into the golem’s flaming wounds, then Sylvain is there, skidding up alongside the golem. He thrusts the Lance of Ruin into its side and shouts.

There’s a concussive boom, a flood of power, and the golem is thrown bodily away from Sylvain and over the edge of the bridge like nothing more than a hare.

“Are you guys okay?” Annette asks, running up to their sides. “We came as soon as we dealt with the dragon that showed up and started attacking people!”

Sylvain huffs, face serious as he turns to Veery and Catherine. “Do you know what’s going on? Best we can figure it has something to do with Rhea; that’s why we were heading to the cathedral. Teach and Claude were going to talk to her there, weren’t they?”

“Veery thinks Lady Rhea lost control of her power,” Catherine says. “We don’t have time to worry about details, but if he’s right, then subduing her should put to stop to everything else.”

Annette immediately starts questioning things. “But what about-”

“Good enough for me,” Sylvain says. He smiles weakly at Annette. “We can discuss the how and why when it’s over.”

Annette makes a face. “You’re right. Sorry. So, if we take down Lady Rhea everything else should stop?”

That may or may not be true. As best as Veery can figure, taking down Rhea will at least stop anyone else from transforming into those White Beasts – although, is there anyone left who fulfills the conditions to transform?

As for the ones already frenzied… Veery highly doubts anything will stop them but being put down. It’s too late for that. Still, everyone should be scattered around the monastery. No one is going to leave the White Beasts behind to raze the place and chase after Rhea while one is still nearby. Veery is really only concerned that one of the cardinals who transformed might have happened to have been in town at the time, in which case there may not be highly-trained war veterans around to stop them before civilians die in droves.

“Hopefully,” Catherine says grimly. And Veery realizes what she says. Subdue, not kill. But… if Rhea is frenzied, if she’s lost control like the Degradation has taken her… they won’t be able to subdue her. Not to mention, even if they can help her if they subdue her… can they subdue her?

Rhea is immensely powerful. Uncontrolled, she’ll be fighting off instinct, not intelligence, which is to their advantage, but Veery is worried that they’ll barely be able to scratch her as-is. Fighting such a powerful opponent while holding back to subdue? Veery isn’t stupid enough to try that.

“Then that’s what we have to do,” Sylvian says. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Catherine says, stalling them all just as they ready to go. Catherine stands there glaring at the stone underneath their feet. “I know what it looks like we’re going to have to do. I know Lady Rhea is suffering. Killing her might be the only way to help her at this point. But… if there is any chance we can save her…”

“Don’t worry,” Annette says. “I think we all understand already. No one wants to kill Lady Rhea.”

“We’ll do what we have to,” Sylvain says. “That doesn’t mean we won’t look for other options. If you get any ideas, feel free to share them.”

Catherine eyes the two of them, but is interrupted by another roar and the bridge under them beginning to shake. “Thank you. Let’s do this.”

Overhead, two small dragons roar. As the four of them sprint towards the cathedral, Veery grins at the sight of Marianne and Claude’s white wyvern flying together to join them.

Even with Marianne backing them up, though… Veery can feel Rhea’s power from here. As he dashes into the cathedral, it feels like swimming upstream. That power of hers blasts away in waves, choking and drowning anything in its path.

Another roar, just as they get close enough to catch a glimpse through the cathedral doors. Veery’s fur stands on end. He yelps and jumps, tackling Sylvain just quick enough to pull his tail out of reach of the glittering blue flames that erupt where he stood.

“The fire is cold,” Annette shouts.

Sylvain grunts, rolling Veery off of him, and says, “Something tells me that doesn’t make it any safer.”

Cold? Rhea’s flames are cold? Veery can imagine his being that way, but Rhea is… that whole line, Sothis, Rhea, even Byleth, they’re all fire. Even the Brigidans always identified Sothis as a spirit of flame. Her Crest is called the Crest of Flames. And sure, Rhea doesn’t have that Crest, but… Veery always thought of her the same way regardless.

But cold? Cold is Veery’s specialty. No one knows cold like an Albinean, and even most Albineans don’t know cold like someone who has spent the winter high in the mountains, or who has wandered the snow wastes.

The cold is Veery’s dominion.

He stands, shakes himself off briefly, and roars. He states his intentions, asserts his dominance, and throws Fimbulvetr through the doors of the cathedral.

The doors slam open, then freeze in place. Ruinous frost spreads not just from the Immaculate One, but Veery as well. Veery steps into the cathedral to see how his ice and Rhea’s clash, and like the earth raising into mountains, so too does their power.

Veery pads up between Claude and Byleth, themselves between Seteth and Flayn, with eyes of winter fixed firmly on Rhea.

She looks more like those malformed dragonlings the priests turn into than the Immaculate One that Veery remembers from five years ago, or even from Shambhala. Her scales have given way to that same vine-like appearance, backlit by a fierce orange glow from within. Her skin, whatever those scaly, thorny vines are… they look like chains. And the glow is…

Veery’s eyes dart to Failnaught and the Sword of the Creator, to Thunderbrand, Crusher, and the Lance of Ruin. It’s the same. It’s like Rhea’s very bones are alight with that selfsame corrupted light.

Catherine sucks in a breath, but it’s Byleth who makes the same connection Veery does. “Veery,” she says, “is there anything we can do…?”

Veery yowls. Maybe, but certainly not while Rhea’s fighting back. Veery can cleanse that corruption from the Heroes’ Relics. He’s done it before. But Rhea is still alive. It might be more similar to what he did with Hoarvug and Sadi, but… that depends on Rhea’s heart being open to him.

He’s not counting on that. And regardless, if he can’t get close enough for long enough, it doesn’t matter.

Rhea roars again. Blue flames sparkling with ice crystals that catch the light spill forth from her maw. With a beat of her wings and a swipe of her tail, half the roof of the cathedral crumbles away.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Claude shouts when she tries to fly. He draws an arrow and looses it into her wing, shredding through the membrane.

Marianne dives through the hole in the roof, right onto Rhea’s back. Rhea thrashes and roars, but Marianne, being smaller, has some space to move and situates herself square on Rhea’s back. She leans down and sinks her teeth deep into Rhea’s neck.

Rhea screams, lashing side to side, until she finally dislodges Marianne and hurls her through the cathedral wall. She lays in a heap under the debris, but Veery can’t get close enough to ensure she’s okay.

“Together!” Byleth roars. The Sword of the Creator segments, growing into a whip which slices clean through its target. Rhea’s dragonskin is tough, but the power of the Sword of the Creator is enough to pierce it. It wraps up around Rhea, tangling her in its blade, and Byleth pulls on the handle like a leash.

By strength alone, that shouldn’t do anything, but the glow of power from the sword, the glow of Sothis’ power, however corrupted, seems to make Rhea hesitate.

It’s enough. Veery Rewarps in with Abraxas on his tongue and more ruinous frost to sink deep into Rhea’s bones. Catherine targets the wings, slicing clean through half the membranes on the one Claude hasn’t already damaged, ensuring that she won’t be able to fly. Claude is less merciful, aiming for her head. The arrow bounces off her tough hide, but Failnaught’s power still impacts her, dazing her for what’s to come. Sylvain drives the Lance of Ruin into her leg, with all his force managing to get it deep enough to damage the tendons controlling her foot. All the while, Excalibur batters her, not strong enough to truly pierce her hide, but enough for her to feel.

Crusher glows in Annette’s hand, and suddenly her Excalibur spell draws blood. That’s more like it.

Seteth and Flayn attack, too, and their sacred weapons are enough, at least, to damage her, though they don’t work as well as the Relics.

Rhea strikes back. She glows with blinding light, then roars. That light falls upon them all, chilling even Veery to the bone. It cuts to his heart like the blood there is freezing through, and slams into him with a force like he gets caught by her tail. Everyone goes flying, sailing into walls or thrown into the hard stone earth.

Veery, used to the cold that pervades him, stands through the pain. Sylvain rises next, leaning on the Lance of Ruin for support.

A wave of magic brushes over them. It flushes the shattered cathedral, and Veery breathes a little easier for it. As he stands there growling, he feels his strength return to him. Flayn stands, Caduceus clutched tight in white-knuckled hands. It’s her magic that fortifies the rest of them, and it’s not long before the others are on their feet again as well.

“Enough!”

Veery jumps, glancing over just far enough to see Sothis glaring at Rhea.

Though the others, Byleth excepted, don’t notice, Rhea herself stops at once, as if someone has cast a Freeze spell on her.

Sothis sucks in a long, shuddering breath, and, trembling, says again, “Enough.”

The others, noticing Rhea has stopped, hesitate in confusion. Veery dashes over to Byleth, brushes against her, opens his heart. With this much ambient magic from Rhea’s power, as well as Veery’s, and what’s naturally here at the cathedral of Garreg Mach, it’s not difficult at all to make sure Rhea can hear Sothis.

He suspects she can feel something of her presence, maybe even see her, but he won’t rely on suspicion. He has the power to make her visible, so he uses it, just to be sure.

“Please, Seiros, my child… haven’t we fought enough?”

Seiros, still aglow with that malevolent orange light in her bones, rattles out, “Mother…”

“I am not the mother you knew.” Sothis’ voice breaks to admit it. “But I am something of her. Can’t that be enough? Can’t you rest? Don’t you know how much it hurts a mother to see her child tormented so?”

“Mother… I…”

Sothis sniffs, and tears begin to fall. The pain, Veery feels it too. His heart is open to Byleth, who shares a heart with Sothis, so he can feel it like his own. He doesn’t know exactly what is shared that leads to this, but he knows how it presses on them. He knows how it feels to scarcely breathe for the weight of it. He knows how loosely their hearts are darned together, and how already those threads are being tugged at.

“Hasn’t there been enough death?” Sothis pleads. “Please, Seiros, let it end. Let us help you.”

The glowing dragon trembles on its feet, then collapses to the ground. A hissing, keening wail pierces the monastery.

All at once, Veery, Byleth, and Sothis agree. Their hearts are one, so it takes only the moment.

Byleth and Veery share a look and a nod. Veery shifts back. Marianne, wincing, shifts back as well, glancing between them, Blutgang, and Rhea.

“One last time,” Seiros begs. “Once more. Mother… My dearest wish… is only to feel your power one last time…”

“Then open your heart, child. Allow us to put an end to this.”

Byleth and Veery approach the Immaculate One. Seteth gasps. “You mean to cleanse Rhea as you have Blutgang?”

“What?” Sylvain starts. “No! Absolutely not! Veery, doing that last time made the Degradation worse! You can’t!”

“But if they don’t,” Catherine says, “what’ll happen to Lady Rhea?”

“I don’t care! I won’t let Veery-”

“I’ll take it this time,” Byleth says firmly.

“You don’t know how, Teach,” Veery counters. “It’s derived from Albinean magic.”

“I saw it last time,” Byleth says. “Even if I can’t do it alone, I can at least take most of it.”

“And how is that better?” Sylvain asks. “So you can take in too much power and we’ll have another person we love slowly dying from it? How is that better?”

“I can do it,” Byleth says numbly. Quieter, she adds, “I was created to do it.”

“Teach,” Claude says cautiously. His eyes move to Sothis. “Sothis, are you sure Teach can handle that?”

Sothis’ watery eyes betray nothing but pain. “I think she cannot bear not to,” she answers.

Claude sighs. “Veery? You’re sure?”

Badb’s power… it makes him even more powerful than he was. Taking in Rhea’s power in the same way isn’t a good idea. It’s why he resolved not to try to cleanse the other Relics without a new method. But… this isn’t the same. This isn’t just ridding a long-dead relic of that corruption, it’s a living person. And Veery is a healer.

He doesn’t like or care about Rhea, and doing this may make the Degradation worse, but… but he can feel Byleth’s heart in this very moment. He knows what toll this war has taken on her. He knows that she has killed people she swore to protect. He knows how that frays her.

He knows how fragile she truly is. And he has faith. Faith that Lysithea and the others will keep looking, will find something, if not to cure the Degradation, then to stave it off.

It’s weighing a worsening of something already inevitable, that may not matter in time, against the life of someone he cares deeply about.

He’ll do it. He’s unsure and unhappy, but he’ll do it. “We’ll figure it out,” he says.

Besides, the truth is that Badb’s power doesn’t make it that much worse. Veery suspects that the Degradation is more a threshold than directly proportional to the power. Yes, he’s getting worse, but is that because he took in some of Badb’s power, or is it because of the passage of time? It’s impossible to tell. He’s certain that his power is growing regardless, so what does one more dragon’s blessing matter?

Plus, Badb blesses him because she likes him. Veery still doesn’t have confirmation that what he absorbs from her power really is from him using it to cleanse the Crest Stone, or something more actively her decision.

There are a lot of reasons to do it, and a lot of reasons not to, but in the urgency of battle, Veery has to make decisions quickly. He decides to help his teacher.

Byleth, Sothis, and Veery all reach out and, together, touch their hands to the Crest on the Immaculate One’s brow.

---

Veery finds himself in a still city. It’s quiet. The birds chirp jaunty tunes and the trees whistle through the wind, but otherwise, there is not a sound.

Towering stone, grand construction of a triumphant and proud people, rises up around him. He takes his first tentative step forward, then another, and rounds a corner to see past the buildings. And he recognizes where he is. Not the construction, but the landscape.

“Zanado,” he breathes. Turning back to the city itself, he murmurs, “This must be what it was like before it fell.”

“Yes,” Sothis says, appearing suddenly at his side. “This is Zanado in the time when the goddess walked the earth.”

It’s uglier than Veery expects. Not that the architecture is ugly, exactly. Veery thinks most humans would find it quite beautiful. Veery just… thought that something built by dragons wouldn’t instill the same hatred that he feels now towards human infrastructure. Deep in his heart, he still finds this distasteful.

He pads under a colorful archway that ironically reminds him of Beyul, slowly wandering. “Why is it so quiet?” Veery asks. This is a construction of memories, so even if they are but figments, Veery thinks he should be seeing faceless blurs if nothing else, and definitely hearing and smelling something. But there is nothing. Nothing at all.

Sothis struggles to push the words past the wet lump in her throat. “Because everyone is dead.”

Oh. That’ll do it. Veery worries his lip. “Where’s Teach?”

“Closer to Seiros,” Sothis answers easier. “It seems, even in her state, she was not willing to let you as close as Byleth.”

“Are we going to face problems trying to get there?”

“No,” Sothis says. “My presence here is soothing her. Follow me, and you will face no resistance.”

Veery nods and acquiesces, following Sothis through the streets. They wind around, navigating towards the center, for what feels like a long while. And they see not a soul.

Finally, they come upon something Veery recognizes. The old memorial wall. Veery touches the names of the Shepherds of Ylisse, frowning.

“That wall…” Sothis says. “It was always an anomaly. The lone thing standing in the dead land, with only a single flower sprouting at its base. It was a like a beacon to me when I left my home. The moment I saw it, I knew this is where I would take root.”

“Did you ever learn more about it?”

“Of course,” Sothis says. “It was built by another god. Anankos, a god of fate. He is also the one who returned life to this land. I merely nurtured it, and I suspect his influence over fate is what brought me here, as well. Unfortunately, he’s as dead as I am. I never did find out why he’d care enough to do something like this – or if I did, it’s among the memories I’ve lost. As far as I recall, he resided in another realm entirely.”

Anankos. That’s one of the big Agarthan gods. The one Veery didn’t recognize. Strange, how it all connects.

Veery shakes his head. He still needs to find Rhea. He follows Sothis down the wall around a bend until he sees her. Rhea lays there in her thin, white dressing gown, sleeping, at the base of the memorial wall, curled on her side in a way remarkably childlike.

(Next to her is a single, wilting flower.)

Byleth stands nearby, not approaching Rhea, and nods to Veery when he appears. Only once she sees him does she kneel by Rhea and touch her shoulder.

Sothis joins her. “Wake up, child,” Sothis says, helping to shake Rhea gently. “This is no time for a nap.”

Rhea groans blearily, slowly rising onto her arm. “Wha…? Mother? How long have I…?”

“Shh, worry not. You are safe here.”

Rhea looks at Sothis like she’s hung the moon in the sky, but she quickly sees Byleth and Veery as well. She smiles to Byleth, like she’s welcoming family, but when her eyes fall on Veery, the smile falls.

“Ah…” Rhea murmurs. “You are here, within my heart. If that is the case, then…”

“You’ve lost it and started wrecking the monastery,” Veery answers. “Yeah.”

Rhea winces. “…I see. I am… sorry.”

Veery shrugs. “It’s… mostly not your fault. I think. I doubt you would have lost control like that if the Koterija hadn’t messed with your heart. That why I’m here, by the way.”

Rhea sighs, closing her eyes. “I understand. Thank you for coming. We have our differences, I know, but I am glad that the others have you to protect them. Even from me.”

“I thought I was the one that was going to have to be put down,” Veery says, thinking about how similar her condition is to the Degradation. It’s like Cornelia’s machine affecting her. All the symptoms, but all at once, instead of gradually over thousands of years.

Or fewer, however quickly Veery’s unprecedented case progresses.

“You should have told us you felt something off,” Veery says. “Marianne and Flayn were doing everything they could for you. If they had any idea it was something like this, I could’ve stepped in earlier.”

Rhea, chastised, hangs her head.

“Do not be so hard on her,” Sothis says gently. “It is not only the Agarthan’s influence which caused this. You were not present for the trigger.”

“Which was?”

Byleth kneels next to Rhea, eyes big and sad. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I never meant to…”

Rhea smiles weakly, reaching out a hand to rest atop Byleth’s head. “I don’t blame you, dear one. You are right to despise me. What I have done is…”

Blood experiments, necromancy, willful endangerment of students… and that’s only the start. And that’s only what Veery knows. There’s more detail there, more that Byleth knows, that they talk about earlier which leads to this whole event, but all Veery knows about that is… “Despair,” he says.

“That’s right,” Sothis answers. “The Agarthans primed her. They hurt her. But the true trigger of today’s events was despair.”

That explains it. That’s enough for him. It’s clear enough that they talked about something sensitive, probably to do with Sothis, and Rhea was disillusioned of her delusions enough to truly give in to despair.

“I told them,” Rhea says quietly, “all my secrets. Everything I have done. And she rightfully denounced me for it. Even Seteth and Flayn…”

All her control was wrapped up in hope. In Faith. When that hope crumbles… so does her control.

“So, what now?” he asks, looking to Byleth and Sothis.

“Now,” Rhea says, “you will kill me.”

“No,” Byleth says. “We’re here to save you.”

Rhea slowly, sadly, shakes her head. “It is too late for me. I am…” She smiles, leans back a little, closes her eyes in the sun. She breathes in deeply, holds it for a moment. “It is time for me. Mother… Veery… you were both right all along. I have stood still for far too long. I cannot bring myself to move forward without…”

Her next inhale shudders. “And now there is no hope. My best chance, my only chance, has failed. I have managed only to house the patchwork remnants of Mother, and even then, she cannot walk this earth with us. Never again will I feel…”

A tear slides down her cheek, even as she smiles up at the warm sun. “Mother’s radiant light… it’s left me behind. And as I’ve stood here missing it, the rest of the world has moved on without me as well.”

“It’s not too late,” Byleth pleads, taking Rhea’s hand into hers. “You’re not gone yet. You can still…”

Rhea opens her eyes to gaze lovingly at Byleth. “Despite everything,” Rhea says, stroking Byleth’s cheek. “Despite what I tried to make you into, you are, and always have been, my granddaughter. I love you, and I am so proud of you.”

It’s then that Veery realizes what’s happening. Rhea has given up. Wholly and completely, she has given up. On her goals, on her dreams… even on life.

He kneels in the grass beside her, taking her other hand. Jasper eyes meet her green and he sighs. “That’s your choice, then?”

Rhea nods, serene.

“Then return to the earth and snow,” he says. “Find peace in the embrace of the goddess.”

Rhea’s hand squeezes his tight. “Thank you.” She looks to Byleth. “Do it now, please. Take my power. Burn Agartha out of me. And let me go. Help me finally reunite with Mother.”

“If this is your resolve,” Sothis says grimly, “then I suppose it will do.”

“Rhea,” Byleth cries, “you can still-”

“I have not truly lived for a thousand years, child,” Rhea says. “The only fleeting moments of life I have had were… my children. And then, only your mother… and you… only you were fit to be called living. I died here in Zanado all those years ago, because I never truly left.”

Veery is torn between agreeing and vehemently denying. On one hand, she’s just like Emile, claiming to already be dead when she still has life yet in her. Even the most worthless existence loses something in death. But at the same time… she’s right. She never really left Zanado. She’s stood still for too long, and the world has gone on without her. She may as well be dead for all the living she’s doing.

But in the end, it’s her choice. If she believes it’s her time, Veery isn’t going to fight her. If he can let Caub go, he can help Rhea pass, too. He won’t take that choice from her. Not the last one she has left.

Byleth hangs her head. “I understand,” she mutters, sniffling.

Veery’s hand is squeezed again. “Don’t worry,” Rhea says. “I know you are strong enough. I would not leave you if you were not.”

“…I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You are so much stronger than you believe. My only request, my last request, is… to take my power.”

Byleth stares through wide, watery eyes.

“Please,” Rhea says, her voice wavering. “The progenitor god’s power… Mother’s power… must be used to protect Fódlan. If what remains of me can be used the same way, I…”

Byleth holds Rhea’s hand and cries. Veery looks away. He sighs. He clutches Rhea’s other hand himself and whispers, “Lend us your power, Rhea. Help us destroy what the Koterija left inside of you. Then… rest.”

Rhea smiles. “I… I hoped you would understand.”

He doesn’t. Not at all. But it’s her choice to make.

Rhea’s power fills the air, saturating it. He feels it in his own heart, and then… together with Byleth, he burns everything.

---

The cathedral of ice, housing a burning dragon, sparkles in the midday sun. Collected inside it, even spilling into the street outside and across the bridge, are the mourners.

Blinding light enshrouds the whole mountain they stand on. All of the cathedral, the Goddess Tower, and even half the bridge. Those in the town later say that the sun itself alights to earth for that moment.

When the light evanesces, and all that is left is the distant, rainbow sun scattered by ice, Rhea lays unmoving on the cold tile floor. A cat stands and turns away, only to be caught by two men asking after his health. And it’s true, he has taken in yet more power. He can tell instinctively. But what he takes is a mere fragment. It is enough to matter, but not enough to worry about.

Left behind, a woman cries. She holds Rhea close and cries and cries until she falls asleep, completely unaware that her hair and eyes have lightened to the exact same shade of green that adorns the dragon she holds in her arms.

#write #fanfiction #fe fanfiction #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

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hafanforever · 5 years ago

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I read a couple of your theories/analyses and was wondering what you thought of this: when ice is under pressure, it turns a pure shade of blue. The less pressure the lighter it gets. In F1 and 2, Elsa’s dresses get less blue and more white... parallel? When Elsa is stressed aka pressure (F1) her outfit is blue. Then, in the beginning of F2, when she is much happier but stressed from the voice, her outfit is light blue. Then, when she is happy and free her outfit is white. What do you think?

Wow, I never even thought about this concept since I didn’t know ice can actually turn blue, but I think you’re absolutely right! Thanks for sharing! 😉

According to Wikipedia, blue ice occurs when snow falls on a glacier, is compressed, and becomes part of the glacier. Air bubbles are squeezed out and ice crystals enlarge, which gives the ice a blue appearance. Small amounts of normal ice appear white because of air bubbles inside them and because small quantities of water appear to be colorless.

So taking this information in mind, the majority of Elsa’s original blue dress is indeed a very bright shade that is colored similarly to the blue iceberg in the screenshot image below. I agree that her dress is this color because, even though she initially feels happy again and free to be her true self for the first time in her life, Elsa is still consumed with fear, depression, stress, anxiety, and self-loathing since she wants to be accepted and loved, and not feared, by society. But she believes that that will never happen, so it’s why she runs away from Arendelle. And then when she learns what she has done to Arendelle, Elsa becomes stressed and panicky again, which is another way that the color of her dress fits her well.

By the end of the film, after she has ended the winter and restored summer, Elsa is still wearing this dress. Her people have started to accept her even for her powers when they see the good things she can do with them. With knowing that love is the key to controlling her magic and having gained acceptance from her people, Elsa is finally beginning to become comfortable with herself, but not completely.

Three years into her reign, Elsa and her powers have become very much loved and accepted by the Arendellians, which has helped her gain more confidence about herself and control of her magic. This may be one of the reasons why she is no longer wearing her original blue dress. When Elsa and her family travel to the Enchanted Forest, she wears a light blue jacket with a pale blue dress adorned with a sky blue belt. However, when she discards her jacket, cape, and boots to cross the Dark Sea, the actual dress is shown for the first time in the film. Its appearance is much paler and lighter than said items, and than the first blue dress. The color of this dress is much like the light blue color of ice in the second screenshot image below, which indicates, as you said, it being under less pressure.

Since Elsa has become more accepting of herself by the time of Frozen II, but still feels dissatisfied with her place, is still wondering why she has powers, and is searching for the mysterious voice, I definitely agree that this dress being a lighter shade of blue reflects those feelings.

Then finally, when Elsa reaches Ahtohallan and discovers the source of the voice, her dress turns pure white when she steps into the centerpiece representing the fifth spirit between the diamonds representing the four elemental spirits, which makes her realize that she is the fifth spirit.

At this moment, Elsa finally discovers all of the answers she has wanted to know her entire life: who she really is, what her true calling in life is, and why she has these ice powers. She no longer feels any stress, restrictions, or worries about herself or about what people think of her. At last, Elsa is completely confident with her new, true identity and wholeheartedly accepts and embraces her powers.

Elsa is NOW finally at peace. She is finally complete. She is finally free. She is finally happy. And the white color of this new dress reflects all of THESE feelings.

So over the course of the two films, much like her hairstyles, and the colors of ice as you mentioned, Elsa’s main dresses reflect her progression in moving from the stressful confines, restrictions, and pressures of her current, default role as the queen of Arendelle towards her ultimate freedom and discovery of her destiny as the fifth spirit and Snow Queen.

Thank you so much for your question! The subtleties, parallels, and symbolic representations portrayed in these movies absolutely astonish me, and you’ve opened my eyes to something new to learn! 😁😄

#Frozen analyses #Frozen 2 analyses #Disney #Disney Frozen #Disney Frozen 2 #Frozen #Frozen 2 #Elsa #dresses #ice #Let It Go #Show Yourself #bluefaewren #submission #my stuff #mine

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sarnai-borlaaq-blog · 7 years ago

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Minii Oroin Od [Hotaru Origin]

[OOC - As promised Hotaru’s origin story! Some material may be sensitive to readers. Be advised]

Over the western horizon the burning star hangs lazily. Golden rays flooding over the landscapes to bid the Eastern lands of Hydaelyn farewell for the night. Multiple colors paint the heavens with their brilliance from soft golds to creamy oranges, and even a few strokes of lavender. Still it is too early for the moon and stars to make their debut performance. This evening the huntress stands on the sandy shores at the edge of The Ruby Sea. Vivid azure irises watch the waves as they rise and fall. Captivated by the ebb and flow of the sea. Briny water crawls up the shoreline, and licks at the leather boots the Borlaaq wears tonight. It isn’t often that Sar’nai finds herself out of the Azim Steppe these days. Many years had been spent away from home, and now that she has returned she is always reluctant to leave.

One of the woman’s fears may seem irrational and asinine to some, but to her it is completely reasonable. Sar’nai fears that the longer she remains in a city, or in civilization, the further she distances herself from her roots. Her origin. Nomadic life in the Steppe was all she knew before traveling to Eorzea. Life in the Western lands was far different than what she grew up to know. Sure she could have a similar life there, but it wouldn’t be the same. Upon returning to the Steppe Sar gained back that missing piece in her soul. Truth be told she never realized how important her home was to her until she couldn’t see it for years. Now she isn’t so eager to venture far from the Azim.

“All aboard!” A man’s stern voice calls out. His voice distracts the huntress and the summons brings her forth from her own little world. Quarter turning she forces a weak smile up at Ligdan. “I’ll be back soon. Just have to go to Kugane and get a few things for our home. You stay here, okay?” Sar’nai speaks gently to the ivory Chocobo. He huffs in protest. Lifting his right leg he stomps the sandy earth in protest several times. Broad wings stretching out to flap furiously for several seconds. Loose particles of sand and debris are sent soaring into the warm salty air. “Hey hey hey! Stop it.” Her voice takes on a rather authoritative tone. “I’d have you take me, but I don’t think they’d take to kindly with me leading you through the streets.” Sighing heavily she steps several paces away from Ligdan. “Stay here, and behave. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Moving over to the small boat Sar wastes no time in hurrying up the ramp. She had spent a lot of her funds on trying to secure a safer passage to the city. One thing Sar’nai hates more than cities and its high class citizens is dealing with money. Unfortunately that is what turns the world, and greases the palms of those less reluctant to help just for the good of it. Not once turning around to look at Ligdan she ventures close to the bow of the sea vessel. Leaning on the railing she tries to distract herself with the beauty of the sea. Behind her crewmen busy about. Pulling the ramp aboard the draw up the anchor, and set sail toward Kugane.

Piercing cobalt irises stare outward at the rolling sea. Watching its rhythmic rise and fall. Around her the world seems to fade away. The sounds of waves sloshing against the boat, and the groaning of the ship, is oddly comforting to her fraying nerves. Secretly she’s been dreading this trip. Off to her left she can hear a woman’s soft sobbing, and a distraught man comforting her. Their words are muffled and the huntress cannot make them out very well. Trying her best to ignore them she places more distance between them and herself. Yet she cannot shake this feeling of dread that lingers over her. More minutes pass, and the further they travel from the shore the worse that sensation gets. Twisting her stomach into painful and uneasy knots. This isn’t seasickness, but rather a dark and unsettling feeling that creeps through her veins like a plague.

Curiosity gets the better of the huntress, and finally those irises of brilliant glacier blue glance in the direction of where the small sobs and murmurs are coming from. Two Miqo’te stand away from the rest of the passengers. A man rubs his wife’s back. Sometimes kissing the top of her head. Whatever happened she is clearly upset. For a moment he steps away from her side to pick up a burlap sack at his feet. That is when she sees it. In the Seeker woman’s arms is an infant. A babe probably no more than a few weeks old. Sar cautiously takes one silent step forward. He opens the mouth of the bag, and the woman slides the babe into the burlap sack. It fusses weakly, and kicks its tiny little feet, but the mother doesn’t stop. Its father ties the bag shut.

Suddenly dread floods through Sar’nai. Aggression, so raw and pure, taints her emotions. Igniting in her soul it spreads outward to every inch of her being. Consuming her existence in a wildfire. So this was what caused that horrible sensation. Taking a step forward her lower jaw parts, and the huntress goes to protest yet her words do not come quick enough for the father holds the burlap sack over the water. Broad fingers unravel themselves from the bag, and he releases the sack and its occupant.

Time stands completely still. Ceasing to have any meaning and any hold over her. Sar’nai doesn’t even need to think twice about what to do. Already in motion from the moment the first finger came undone leather boots hammer against the wooden deck of the ship. Shoving past people in her way she couldn’t really give any fucks if she knocked people over, or hurt them. Warm lips pucker almost in a kiss like gesture, and from the small gap left between the soft blue rims air is expelled. Summoning a sharp whistle that spreads through the distance. Strong hands grip onto the railing of the sea vessel, and the huntress swings her body over it.

That beating muscles leaps into her throat, and Sar feels weightless for those few miniscule seconds. Free falling through the air time seems to go from motionless to rushing by her. Sar doesn’t think of herself, or take into consideration how this will impact her life. All she can think of is that babe sinking. That is what fuels her. Needing to save that little life from ending. What sort of parents would do that to their child?! Oh how she feeds off the rage, and adrenaline. Using it to stoke the coals, and fuel the fire.

In these precious seconds the huntress turns her body. Angling her front downward her arms stretch out, and hands come together. Piercing the water like a spear the huntress cuts through the sea before warmth consumes her. Salty liquid wraps around her and embraces the frantic woman. Eyelids flutter open, and the briny water stings those vivid azure eyes. Lids flutter numerous times to rid herself of the discomfort, but it is of no use. Pushing through it Sar looks around. Thank the Dusk Mother that they aren’t terribly far from the shore so the water isn’t terribly deep.

Just one yalm beneath her the bag sinks further down by the passing seconds. Noticing the burlap sack in the dim light Sar’nai is in motion. Long toned legs kicking behind her furiously. Propelling her down into the ocean’s depths after the babe. Lungs ache with the need to breathe. Discomfort prickles into them, and that prickling sensation turns into a stabbing feeling. Like hot knives burying deep into her lungs. Soft grunts sound in the base of her throat, and she visibly fights the urge to just breathe. Roughly biting into the sides of her cheeks she devours the distance between the bag and herself. Slender fingers reach out, and fumble with the material. Searing pain radiates throughout her chest but she is relentless! Nails catch on a small hole in the rough fabric. Shoving her finger through the hole she anchors the bag to her hand.

Twisting her body upright strong legs kick feverishly. Shoving her up toward the surface ilm by ilm. Unable to fight the urge anymore her mouth slacks, and large bubbles escape. Snapping her jaws shut Sar keeps struggling. Never once giving up. Around the edges of her vision darkness looms and slowly it creeps inward. Unconsciousness wraps its tendrils around the huntress.

Can’t….give…..up…..

Bursting through the ocean’s surface air rushes over her face, but she doesn’t bother to breathe just yet. Dragging her right arm out of the water she holds the burlap bag over her head. Ensuring that the babe inside is out of harm's way for the moment. Gasping loudly Sar sucks oxygen deep into her aching lungs. Tired legs kick beneath her to tread water. Thankfully she doesn’t have to do this for long for a broad beak clamps around the collar of her vest, and both the babe and herself are plucked from the ocean.

Ligdan had heard his rider’s whistle from the shoreline, and as his master was launching herself from the ship he was already on his way to her. Wings flap furiously but are able to keep them up in the air. Covering the distance between the shoreline, and them, the ivory chocobo soon lands on the sand. Dropping the huntress onto the ground she groans a little in pain, but she doesn’t take a single moment to reflect on it. Scrambling onto her knees she tears the bag open. What she sees makes her breath still.

A petite Seeker babe. No more than two weeks old, and undersized for her age. Most likely born premature. Perhaps that is why her parents wanted to end the baby girl’s life because premature children have been known to have some lingering health issues. It’s not too common that they survive past a few months. Her hair a stark white with small hints of faint blonde. Cream spots just starting to appear on the babe’s small soaked tail. Gently Sar nudges her, but the infant doesn’t respond.

“No! You are not going to die on me now.” Sar’s words crackle, and threaten to break right along with her heart. Pressing three finger tips against the babe’s chest she begins to press. Compressing the infant’s chest repeatedly to hopefully move the girl’s heart back into beating. Ligdan paces nervously over to the pair, and lays down. Attentively he watches. Unable to really do much of anything. Bending over her mouth clasps with the Seeker’s, and she gently breathes into the infant. Salt water bursts into her mouth and she leans over to spit it out.

Shrill screams disrupt the thundering of the ocean waves. Life seeps back into the Seeker girl, and that petite body squirms on the bag and sand. Arms and feet flailing about wildly. Sar laughs with relief, and falls back onto her rump. “Good boy Ligdan.” Sar’nai compliments her companion. He puffs his chest out, and raises his head high out of pride. Allowing the infant to breathe, and recover, for a minute the huntress’s hands slip beneath her. Lifting the squirming baby up she cradles the babe to her chest. Feeling the warmth of someone the Seeker girl gradually settles down. Instinctively she curls up against the Xaela. Her screams fading into soft sobs, and soon those too diminish. Small lids flutter open to reveal faint lavender irises.

“Feeling better?” Sar questions in a tender tone. Piercing blue eyes hold the gaze of the infant. Looking toward the heavens the huntress watches as one single star shimmers into existence. Burning brilliantly in the sea of colors. “Thank you Dusk Mother.” She breathes out in a whisper. Azure eyes fall to look back at the precious life in her arms. “Seems like she brought me to that boat for a reason.” Sar’nai had spent some of her money to acquire a spot on that ship, and now she lost those funds, but that doesn’t bother her in the least. Fate had brought her there….the Dusk Mother had made sure her child was on that boat at the right time. That is how Sar sees it.

Hugging the infant close she murmurs,” your name will be Hotaru Borlaaq, minii oroin od.” Craning her neck she kisses the baby girl’s forehead. “My evening star.”

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frontiervolunteering · 7 years ago

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Top 5 Volcanoes Worth Visiting

Visiting an active volcano might sound like a death trap, but experiencing the power of nature is promised to be a blast…well not literally we hope! Volcanoes are popular tourist destinations for their mysterious personalities; melting basaltic rock and steam exhaling craters are amongst the most breath-taking features, not to mention photo worthy. So why not live life on the edge and plan a journey to the planet’s most fascinating geological hotspots. There are over 1,500 active volcanoes in the world, but here are the top 5 worth visiting.

Mount Etna, Sicily

It’s crazy to think that this is the most active volcano in Europe, and so close to home! In terms of getting the best experience, there are two ways to get close to the summit, but are you feeling lazy or adventurous? If you are feeling lazy, a cable car can take you up to an altitude of 2500m, where you can gaze out to the black lava fields, solidified lava flows from centuries ago and four craters. On a clear day, the abundant black lava contrasts with the blue sky, which is so picturesque and 100% picture worthy! From this point, busses can take you up to the craters to explore. For the adventurous, an approximate one hour hike can take you to 3340m, the highest point visitors can reach. The trek isn’t difficult, but beware of uneven surface! At 3000m you can stop off at two craters, which differ to each other considerably; one glows with red mars-like lava, while the other is coal-like black. Despite Mount Etna’s continuous activity and unpredictable nature, it is one of the very few volcanoes where visitors can travel so close to the summit.

Flickr | Mike Kirkham

Kilauea, Hawaii

Fortunately, catastrophic explosions are not in Kilauea’s nature due to its shield type. But if you have always wanted to see beautiful lava fountains and huge quantities of slow-moving lava flows, Kilauea is the place to visit! A perfect observatory for this lava spilling phenomenon is the Jagger Museum Overlook, located at the edge of the Kilauea caldera. The views here are without a doubt spectacular as you are far enough away to observe an actual eruption without being in danger! At night, bright orange magma illuminates the whole landscape, again a perfect photo moment! Within the caldera is a bubbly lava lake which changes in appearance and activity from the magma chamber below. In periods of high volcanic activity, the level of the lake will rise substantially, showing off an illuminous glow. This is actually one of the only lava lakes where visitors can view it so close and not by air. Hawaiian volcanic activity is essentially the most fascinating due to the complexity of the tectonic plates underneath.

Flickr | U.S. Geological Survey

Eyjafjallajökull, Iceland

Let’s not even try to pronounce it because it’s quite a mouthful! For those of you who remember, this volcanic eruption caused global chaos in 2010, when a huge pulse of ash filled the atmosphere, disrupting flights to and from northern Europe. For this reason, it was named the ‘eruption that stopped the world’. In fact, this event put the volcano on the map! It is now visited by thousands of tourists a year, where visitors can reach the eruption site at an altitude of 2,300m for amazing panoramic views of neighbouring volcanoes and the Atlantic Ocean. So called ‘super jeeps’ take tourists across the most beautiful glacial rivers, past glaciers and lava fields, stopping off at the famous Seljalandsfoss (again a mouthful to pronounce) waterfall . Who said volcanoes aren’t fun! So what type of volcano is Eyjafjallajökull? Well it’s a stratovolcano, the most common volcano for being explosive due to its conical shape and massive magma chamber beneath.

Flickr | J McDyre

Mount Pinatubo, Philippines

This volcano is a big deal. The 1991 eruption was the most destructive of the 20th Century. In fact, there were considerable global environmental effects for years following the event; researchers have suggested the millions of tons of carbon dioxide that pumped into the atmosphere had the capacity to change the climate. But don’t let this scare you away. Today, Mount Pinatubo is a safe place to visit. Trekking the volcano is popular for tourists as there are many organised tours operated by local guides. The crater is a beautiful 2.7km lake that is filled with crystal clear water. It really is picturesque and considered the most stunning crater lake in the world! It is however advised not to swim in the lake, but perfect for taking photographs! Although the volcano is active, it is monitored and any dangerous activity will be predicted.

Flickr | Yabang Pinoy

Yellowstone Caldera, USA

This differs from any other volcano, appearance being the most obvious reason. Under Yellowstone National Park lies the biggest supervolcano on Earth. This volcano last erupted 640,000 years ago, leaving behind a collapsed giant crater. This sunken delight still provides a unique opportunity for tourism. The electromagnet energy under this hot spot produces a fascinating phenomenon; steam and hot water bubbles out of the earth like a cauldron in a colourful manner. This is the only volcanic location on our planet that produces such a thing! Yellowstone National Park is home to the most active geysers (hot water and steam exploding out of the earth). In fact everywhere you go you will see plumes of steam rising from the fields and edge of lakes. The most famous geyser, “Old Faithful” is located in the same vicinity and erupts every 90 minutes, so don’t forget your camera as this is a once in a lifetime photo moment!

Flickr | Moonjazz

So there you have it, five of the most fascinating volcanoes filled with extraordinary histories of eruptions. Volcano tourism is now really popular and something different than your regular beach holiday or city break. First and foremost, safety is important, so always listen to the tour guides. Be sure to research before you travel so you don’t end up going in the midst of an eruption!

#travel #adventure #volcano #Wanderlust #nature #gapyeartravel #intothewild

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wayneooverton · 7 years ago

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Iceland is perfect for first time solo female travelers

Want to travel solo for the first time but not sure where to start? Head to Iceland. Check out what Kristin Addis of Be My Travel Muse has got to say about Iceland for solo female travelers.

So you’ve decided that this is the year that you’re going to travel even if it means you’re going it alone. Your best friend, sister, partner, cousin, and that guy you kind of remember from junior high gym class are all too busy to join you. So what’s a girl to do if she wants an adventure but wants to feel secure in her decision while still adding an element of adventure?

Head to Iceland!

First off, Iceland is stunning. At some point, you will have seen so many waterfalls in one day that you will stop pulling over to take pictures of them. It seems that around every curve and bend in Iceland there’s a new mind blowing view specifically designed by nature’s hand to completely knock your socks off.

It’s also incredibly safe, the infrastructure is great, it’s clean, it’s easy to get around, and most importantly, it’s a little wonderland of adventures!

If you’re traveling solo for the first time, Iceland truly is the perfect choice; here are 6 more reasons why:

It’s a popular place

Heading off the beaten path and being one with nature is a wonderfully freeing experience, though as a solo traveler it can feel like it comes at the cost of being alone a lot. Thankfully in Iceland you can get the best of both worlds.

With such cheap flights from within Europe and the US available through WOW air, plus the growing popularity of Iceland as a stopover or destination in and of itself, you won’t have to be alone. In the last 5 years, tourism to Iceland has more than doubled.

That said, you don’t have to head too far if you do want some solitude. Half the time that I was in Iceland I was at popular spots like the Goðafoss waterfall where there were plenty of people around, and half the time I saw almost no other people, like at Ásbyrgi canyon.

Pro tip: Give yourself enough time to stay in the capital, Reykjavík, for a few days and chances are good you’ll be able to meet others who will join you for part or maybe all of your trip if you want to share the journey.

Kirkjufellsfoss

It’s the safest country in the world

I couldn’t believe it when I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store outside of Reykjavík and saw someone get out of his car, leave the key in the ignition, and go in to do his grocery shopping. That’s how much people trust each other in Iceland. Even minor crimes make major headlines there because they just don’t happen very often.

According to the Institute for Economics and Peace, Iceland is the safest country in the world with a low violent crime rate, a low theft rate, and a high standard of living with a responsive police force. In other words, you’re statistically safer in Iceland than you are at home.

The Blue Lagoon

The locals are friendly and speak English quite well

If you’re traveling alone for the first time, the idea of being lost without any ability to communicate can be pretty terrifying. Thankfully, English is very widely spoken in Iceland. I came across plenty of locals who could’ve easily passed for a North American with their flawless accents.

I also found that the locals to be friendly, which always makes for a more pleasant solo traveling experience.

It’s easy to navigate

Most of the main attractions that visitors to Iceland will want to see are off of a road that goes in a circle, either the golden circle day trip outside of Reykjavik or the ring road, which more or less takes you around the circumference of the island.

The roads are well-maintained, there are plenty of places to pull off and take photos, and they are well-marked, too. so even if you don’t have someone riding shotgun giving you directions, you’ll be able to find your way.

Iceland was made for road trips.

Asbyrgi Canyon

It’s simple to stay connected

If you are traveling by yourself for the first time the idea of being stuck in a desolate place without any type of connection or method of reaching people might sound downright terrifying. I was a little bit worried about connectivity in Iceland and was shocked, shocked!, at how often I had a solid 3G connection with Vodafone there, and for only €15 for 3 gigabytes!

Seriously, I remember being in the middle of the Highlands on a road only for 4 x 4 vehicles that took hours to reach and was absolutely shocked to find that I still had full 3G. I took solace in the fact that should anything go wrong, I’d be able to call for help. I suggest picking up a SIM card at any Vodafone shop in Reykjavík before heading out of town on your adventure.

It’s the perfect spot to test out your adventurous streak

If you’ve never really thought of yourself as adventurous or outdoorsy, Iceland is the perfect place to test the waters and try something new. You can search for the northern lights, horseback ride on those famous Icelandic ponies, go for a hike in any one of the famous canyons or in the Highlands, SCUBA dive between two tectonic plates, explore ice caves, take a helicopter around the active volcanoes, and the list goes on.

It’s almost impossible to be bored in Iceland, plus, the healthcare is great, everything is well organized, and the activities are fabulous. They are also a great way to meet others!

The Northern Lights in Iceland

Those are a few of my reasons why Iceland is the perfect spot for first-time solo female travelers, though I could probably talk your ear off for a week about why I love Iceland so much, if you let me.

If you do go, be forewarned that it will be hard to top the amazingness of Iceland for your following trips, but it’s well worth the risk to be able to see the northern lights, magical waterfalls with basalt columns, and bubbling blue water with geysers springing up. It seriously looks like another planet, and that’s part of what makes a trip there feel so life changing.

Have you been to Iceland? Do you travel solo? Any tips to share?

Kristin Addis is a solo female travel expert who inspires women to travel the world in an authentic and adventurous way, she even wrote the book on the topic – Conquering Mountains: How to Solo Travel the World Fearlessly. A former investment banker who sold all of her belongings and left California in 2012, Kristin has solo traveled the world for over four years, covering every continent (except for Antarctica, but it’s on her list). You can find more of her musings at Be My Travel Muse or on Instagram and Facebook.

Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon

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wandertheory-blog · 8 years ago

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Iceland—land of Fire and Ice. Admired for its otherworldly allure, Iceland seems more like the setting of epic-fantasy series Game of Thrones than an actual place; a world with sweeping landscapes home to mysterious creatures and iron-willed men whose mettle has been forged by punishing cold and broiling volcanoes.

In the midst of walking among Viking ruins and climbing up snow capped glaciers I discovered a dreamscape of natural wonders possessing enough lore, mystique and heroism to fulfill any fantasy-lover’s imagination. It may exist sans gratuitous violence, nudity and the dragons of HBO programming, but the thing that makes Iceland so astoundingly beautiful is that it really exists. (And for the record parts of HBO’s Game of Thrones were filmed in Iceland).

“The problem with driving around Iceland is that you’re basically confronted by a new soul-enriching, breath-taking, life-affirming natural sight every five goddamn minutes. It’s totally exhausting.”

—Stephen Markley, Tales of Iceland or “Running with the Huldufolk in the Permanent Daylight”

Iceland is one of the youngest countries in the world, at least geologically speaking. Once home to settlements of Vikings, the country thrives with modern Scandinavian traditions, old Norse myths and an ancient mysticism that has run deep in the country’s veins for over two-thousand years. The people here have an inherent respect for the awe-inspiring, imposing natural world that surrounds them. Adventure beckons at every bubbling hot spring and bizarre, lava-encrusted rock formation. It’s the kind of place you find a bottle of Lysi (Icelandic cod liver oil) at your breakfast table for an extra shot of vitality and the pronunciation of common words like “Eyjafjallajökull” make asking for directions a timid traveler’s worst nightmare.

Starting the Road Trip and Some Car Advice

Like most of our European vacations Max and I decided to forgo the standard tour bus and drive across the country in a economical rental hatchback. We departed in May, missing the swarms of tourists who visit during the high season (June-August), just as the spring days begin to lengthen and the promise of summer sunlight seems eternal, averaging up to seventeen hours of daylight! Our path was the classic Ring Road—1300 km of mostly paved coastal roadway circling the country. After we picked up our rental car we promptly discovered why ninety percent of vehicles in Iceland resemble some kind of hybrid monster truck. The sad truth of the matter is that two-wheel drive cars simply don’t cut it on the rugged terrain and snow covered mountain passes. A tense commute to Northern Iceland found us being dug out of snow by sympathetic travelers in better equipped vehicles. More than once Max and I found our car careening wildly on partially snow-plowed roads that bordered plunging drop-offs! I’ll admit in retrospect the danger was exciting, but at the time it was damn terrifying. My advice: Don’t skimp on four-wheel drive or GPS.

The car we did NOT have on our road trip.

Viking History at Þingvellir

The first stop on our road trip and only 23km east of Reykjavík was dramatic and expansive Þingvellir. The very first democratic parliament in the world was established here in AD 930. The Vikings were a progressive bunch. Forgoing a Nordic monarchy they called their nationwide council the Alþing, entitling all free men to participate in the dispensing of justice and passing of legislation. At the height of its day nearly every important decision affecting Iceland was made here, including the country’s kristnitaka (the taking of Christianity), which had been heatedly split between Christianity and Paganism. Families, tradesmen and singles would travel across the country to attend the Alþing’s annual assembly hoping to barter, settle disputes and find partners for marriage.

Þingvellir is not only a historic site, but also a stunning paragon of geology. The site rests toward the fault lines separating the North American and European tectonic plates. The gradual separation of the earth from these two points has created valleys of fissures and rifts that feature incredible geological aftermath and unparalleled views.

Geysir

Our next attraction was Geysir—a once gushing hot spring that shot plumes of water reaching 80 meters into the sky before it became clogged in the 1950s. Rumor has it ceased to work when troublesome tourists threw stones into it in an attempt to set it off.

Luckily the hot spring Strokkur is just a stone’s throw away. Strokkur is much more reliable than more famous Geysir, actively gushing up to 30m of water every 5-10 minutes. You can feel the geothermal heat of the springs as steam erupts into the air and dissipates in the sunshine. The location is surrounded by gurgling brooks, the ever present stink of sulfur and errant tourists removing gloves to dip their fingers into boiling water.

Vik and the Black Coast

Iceland’s Southern most coast features an exotic ebony beach made of black basalt sand with dramatic rock formations and mossy basalt sea stacks. The coast offers some of Iceland’s best wildlife watching; in some areas colonies of puffins and other sea birds nest and flit about the rocky outcrops.

Lava Fields

No matter which direction you go in Iceland you are bound to stumble upon stretches of lava fields, some even spanning hundreds of miles. This is because the country is home to nearly 130 active and inactive volcanoes and the reason it is the youngest land mass in Europe. You’ll find evidence of volcanic existence everywhere—from melted, twisted hunks of metal that once served as road bridges to open-roofed, windowless houses blackened by soot and no longer inhabitable.

As a native Texan I found the lava fields to be fascinating and unlike anything I had ever seen. I was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. They’re surprisingly springy, covered by thick carpets of lichen that allow you to bounce across the fields like a human Super Mario. I was later warned by locals toward the end of our trip that many of these fields contain “false” bottoms and are responsible for more deaths than the volcanoes themselves. Alas, I have kissed my dreams of becoming a lava-hoping Nintendo player goodbye and have accepted admiring the lava fields from afar. But they sure are pretty…

Waterfalls

Chances are no matter where you turn, you are also going to encounter a stunning foss (waterfall). Some trickle lazily down mossy banks while others gush mightily with the potency of Thor’s hammer. Many are easily viewed and accessible while others require a perilous and slippery trek. All are unique and nearly unadulterated. Here are just a few of my favorites:

Gullfoss (Southwest Iceland)

Seljalandsfoss (South Iceland)

Gljúfurárfoss (South Iceland)

Goðafoss (North Central Iceland)

Glacier Hiking at Vatnajökull National Park

Glacier hiking on Europe’s largest icecap was a firmly established bucket list item for Max and me. After a quick briefing from our tour guide on safety and glacier navigating we strapped on our crampons, helmets and set off to climb up mighty Vatnajökull Glacier.

Hiking in a polar climate means an ever-changing scope of body temperatures. One minute I was heaving yourself up the frosty incline panting, while beads of sweat trickled down my back; the next moment an arctic breeze would rip through my clothes like wind through a mosquito net, reminding me just how far north I really was.

After an impromptu Cliff Bar picnic we were challenged by our tour guide to execute a perfect “viking pushup”, which meant securing your ice-pick horizontally into the glacier and using it as a rail to lower yourself down to imbibe some of the trickling glacial water. We were warned not to brush any pieces of ice with our hands or face because the ice was jagged and extremely sharp. Below is my ungraceful attempt at a “glacial facial”.

Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon

Ethereal icebergs glow cerulean and turquoise, drifting atop the serene lagoon of Jökulsárlón. The lagoon is so picturesque it has been featured on the silver screen in blockbusters like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001), Batman Begins (2005) and the James Bond flick Die Another Day (2002). A large portion of my camera’s memory card was used in ardent admiration.

Searching for the Lagarfljótsormur (Iceland’s Lochness Monster)

As we made our way Northeast we began to hear whispers of a giant serpent dwelling in massive Lake Lagarfljót (near Egilsstaðir in East Iceland). Sightings of the monster, also called the Lagarfljót Wyrm have occurred since 1345AD and still continue to the present day. Many locals contest the Icelandic legend’s existence and have the recorded video evidence to prove it. A lucky farmer was awarded 500,000 ISK (roughly $4,300 USD) by the Fljótsdalshérað municipal council in 2012 for filming the alleged creature swimming through the glacial water of the lake. http://icelandreview.com/news/2014/08/25/truth-commission-lake-monster-does-exist

Standing at the edge of Lake Lagarfljót I saw neither hyde nor hair of the myth, but to be fair searching conditions were extremely cold that day.

Blue Lagoon

No trip to Iceland is complete without a pilgrimage to its famed geothermal spa: The Blue Lagoon. Although slightly expensive and overcrowded, there is no sensation quite like floating around milky blue waters full of nourishing blue algae, silica mud and mineral salts that rest at an inviting 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Here you can slather on silica mud masks, sip on Icelandic beer and experience the pummeling effects of a hydraulic powered massage from one of the steamy spa waterfalls.

DCIM100GOPRO

Trolling Around

Although Iceland was officially Christianized in the year 1000 AD, barbarous trolls, angelic Faye and the mysterious Huldufólk (hidden people) still seem within the realm of possibility.

Troll mythology abounds here in the North and with so many eerie rock formations dominating Iceland’s lava fields, it’s not hard to see why. Icelandic legends entertain that suspicious looking rocks and other geological formations were once trolls caught out at sunrise that have been permanently turned into stone.

We spent a night at Fossatún Country Hotel, located among the rolling hills and tumbling waterfalls for which West Iceland is famed. The hotel takes a particular interest in troll mythology and features troll-themed statues, games and walking paths. Inspired by the beautiful surroundings of the hotel, host Steinar Berg has written a charming collection of children’s stories based on old folk tales with beautiful illustrations by Brian Pilkington.

The grounds offer stunning views at sunset and plenty of fun and silliness for kids or those young at heart.

Reykjavík

Iceland’s capital is a hotpot of culture featuring a hip nightlife, quirky fashion, graffiti-gilded walls, uber-trendy coffee houses, edgy bars and an eclectic music scene that has made international waves with musicians like Björk, Of Monsters and Men, Sigur Rós, and Ásgeir Trausti. Reykjavík also serves as the gateway for excursions and adventure activities that depart outside of Iceland’s biggest city (population 120,000—whopping standards compared to Iceland’s sparsely populated mainland.) The National Museum of Iceland and Saga Museum are brilliantly curated and worth a visit. A colony of celebrated cats lords over downtown Reykjavík and even have their own Facebook page:@CatsOfReykjavik.

Icelandic Food and Drink

Food in Iceland is often locally grown, organic, both exquisite and expensive. The climate and soil are relatively inhospitable for producing crops, but Icelanders long ago have learned to harness the abundance of natural resources. There is no shortage of greenhouses powered by geothermal energy and we spied many of these along with farms hosting sheep, Icelandic horses and even reindeer while driving along the countryside. Lamb is a particular staple of the Icelandic diet. A large fishing industry also helps to sustain the Icelandic economy and for the culinary adventurous there are rarities to try, such as Minke whale, puffin and fermented shark. (Icelanders have traditionally depended on aboriginal subsistence whaling; however, despite enormous global controversy and a moratorium to cease commercial whaling enforced by the International Whaling Commission, Norway, Iceland and Japan still partake in commercial whaling.) Langoustine (Icelandic lobster) is a Southeastern specialty and typically comes grilled and slathered in garlic butter. Skyr, Iceland’s creamy low-fat version of yogurt, is heavenly on its own and a topping on most desserts. Hverabrauð or “hot-spring-bread” is a traditional rye bread baked underground using geothermal heat and also worth a try.

For drinking coffee is the norm, but you’ll be hard pressed to find any alcoholic beverages outside of Reykjavik and other large towns. Bottled water is a thing in Iceland, but it’s superfluous (and to many downright dishonest)—all tap water comes from Iceland’s pristine glaciers and tastes delectable.

Considering Visiting Iceland?

Iceland possesses a wild and haunting beauty that sinks deep within your veins. Its unending sky and ever-changing landscape are elemental, linking us to our primordial past and epic history. For more information check out a copy of Lonley Planet’s Iceland and visit the following sites:

For more information on Iceland visit: http://www.iceland.is/

For more information on Reykjavik visit: http://www.visitreykjavik.is/

Cheers and Happy Travels. XOXO.

Jess

Iceland Iceland—land of Fire and Ice. Admired for its otherworldly allure, Iceland seems more like the setting of epic-fantasy series…

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