#A Gyrfalcon's Promise

[lopadopalis]

Lopadopalis' Signalis Fics

Long overdue that I make a post about this, and I might as well do this now since I recently dropped the respective third chapters for both of these fics one after the other, I ought to advertise them here because why not. I have been utterly consumed by Signalis brainrot.

I've had these two in the works for several months, and consider them to be 'sister-fics', because I developed them alongside one another and it felt wrong to focus entirely on one for a few years and then focus entirely on the other when it felt better to keep them together for all that they have wildly different narrative focuses.

A Gyrfalcon's Promise, one day to be a series, is primarily Falke-focused, involving her waking up in Sierpinski but finding no corruption, no Red Gate, and no Ariane (or Elster). She resolves to destroy the Eusan Nation in Ariane's name, and the entire series will be about the journey to fulfil that goal.

Twilight Maw, on the other hand, has a wide range of focuses, an extremely large cast, and is decidedly eldritch. It's gonna be packed when it's finished... It's a crossover with House of Leaves, although preferably you won't need to read the book to enjoy this one, you'll just get more of the references. Post-Artifact, Ariane catches the attention of forces beyond her understanding, Elster wants a break but the universe refuses, and Falke just wants to be with the wives. Falke/Elster/Ariane propaganda long-term, planning this fic accidentally made these three my OT3 but I will never go back.

I've got a lot planned for these two fics, and I'm looking forward to what they have in store long-term. Cheers.

[fallingshrike]

Gyrfalcon Orion (Papyrus) in full seraphic warning, round 2.

Alternate title: You really wish you weren't doctor Alphys right now.

More Orion, and up closer than you ever wanted to be.

This is for @azzzhat, or azZhat on Archive of Our Own, based on the last scene of the 15th chapter of their Undertale story, The Wolf.

Orion, crooning threats with such promise. I could not get that vision of Orion's expression out of my head for over a month.

[datahorizzon-research1]

The Neuromorphic Computing Market size was valued at USD 6.8 Billion in 2023

The neuromorphic computing market size was valued at USD 6.8 Billion in 2023 and is expected to reach a market size of USD 82.1 Billion by 2032 with a CAGR of 31.8%.

The neuromorphic computing market has been steadily expanding, driven by the demand for efficient and powerful computing solutions inspired by the human brain’s architecture. Neuromorphic computing mimics the parallel processing and energy efficiency of biological neural networks, offering promising capabilities for tasks like pattern recognition, sensor data processing, and machine learning. This technology has found applications in various fields, including robotics, healthcare, automotive, and cybersecurity.

Recent developments in the neuromorphic computing market include:

Advancements in Hardware: Companies are continually developing neuromorphic chips with increased complexity and performance, enabling faster and more energy-efficient processing of neural networks.

Software Innovations: There’s a growing focus on developing specialized algorithms and software frameworks optimized for neuromorphic hardware, enhancing the usability and effectiveness of these systems.

Expansion of Applications: Neuromorphic computing is being applied to a broader range of use cases, including real-time data analysis, autonomous systems, and edge computing, driving its adoption across industries.

Research Collaborations: Academic institutions, research organizations, and industry players are collaborating to advance the understanding and implementation of neuromorphic computing, fostering innovation and knowledge exchange.

Market Growth and Investment: The neuromorphic computing market is experiencing significant growth, with increased investments from both established technology companies and startups, indicating growing confidence in its potential and future prospects.

Top Companies are:

· Intel Corporation

· SK Hynix Inc.

· IBM Corporation

· Samsung Electronics Co. Ltd

· GrAI Matter Labs

· HP Enterprise

· Nepes Corporation

· General Vision Inc.

· Qualcomm Technologies

· Gyrfalcon Technology Inc.

· BrainChip Holdings Ltd

· Vicarious FPC Inc.

Market Segmentations:

By Component (2024–2032)

· Hardware

· Software

· Services

By Deployment (2024–2032)

· Cloud Deployment

· Edge Deployment

By Application (2024–2032)

· Signal Processing

· Image Processing

· Data Processing

· Object Detection

· Others

By End-use (2024–2032)

· Military & Defense

· Automotive

· Consumer Electronics

· Industrial

· Medical

· IT & Telecommunication

· Others

Regional Analysis:

Neuromorphic Computing market in North America demonstrated a remarkable stronghold, attributed to the region’s robust adoption of artificial intelligence technologies and the presence of key industry players like General Vision Inc., IBM Corporation, Intel Corporation, and HRL Laboratories LLC. This dominance was further fueled by substantial government investments aimed at fostering research in neuromorphic computing.

Notably, in September 2022, the Department of Energy renewed its funding of USD 12.6 million to the University of California San Diego’s Quantum Materials for Energy Efficient Neuromorphic Computing center. This funding injection is geared towards advancing the development of materials crucial for enhancing neuromorphic computing capabilities, underscoring North America’s pivotal role in shaping the trajectory of this cutting-edge technology.

Key highlights of the report include:

1. The report delivers thorough Market analysis, furnishing valuable insights to guide strategic decision-making.

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5. With meticulous breakdowns of various market niches, the report facilitates informed decision-making processes.

[minasmorghul]

ok ok, re: the genderbent starklings au. a) how does the red wedding happen? b) Is Symeon king in the north or just allied with Stannis? c) How far do you think the relationship between Jonelle anc Catelyn changes in this au? d) what happens to Jonelle when/after winterfell falls? (both times)

hi!!! Answers below bc I tend to ramble sorry since this AU is kind of half-formed to me!!! (also these are out of order a bit)

General things about this envisioning is that time passes a bit slower on the Westerosi side here-- it's not like a few months of breakneck battles and events like in the book, but more akin to how in Fire and Blood, in how takes two years for the Northern Army to march down, etc. Also the Doylist explanation is that I can't see a 12 year old Symeon leading an army (at least not successfully), plus I feel like Symeon would be inclined to negotiate before bringing out the swords first. I would estimate that by the time the Riverlands are being pillaged by the Mountain, Symeon would be newly 13. Almost 15 once the Wot5K begins in earnest.

b) In this envisioning, there's not a King in the North, as Symeon is allies with Stannis and looking to seat him on the Iron Throne. Since Symeon served in the Vale as a squire, he might find it easier to muster forces from there as well (vs in canon). Also this is silly but Courtesy the Gyrfalcon is absolutely canonical to Symeon and so I think Stannis, ruminating on his own Proudwing, might be closer to feeling sympathetic about Symeon and his cause.

a) With Stannis having the Stormlanders, Riverlanders, Valemen, and Northmen behind him, I do think that it's likely a much likelier chance they pose a far greater threat to the Lannisters, who might try to take a more underhanded way out. Betrayal at a peace parley sounds like a thing they might do. Maybe it involves an exchange of Jaime for Barra? Symeon and Artos are likely both on the table as potential bridegrooms, and since I'm Starkpoole trash I do like the concept of Symeon and Jeyne being childhood sweethearts who marry during the wartime, which pisses off the Freys, and possibly other Northern Houses for him to choose a steward's daughter over their girls? That coupled with the fact that Symeon was squired in the South will make him somewhat controversial while they’re currently at war with a southron faction I think. The power of Jeynes I swear to the gods. At this point I don't think Symeon is as disabused of his noble and chivalric notions as Sansa is (in part due to Sansa having her idealism literally beaten out of her), and having a kind of semi-elopement for love seems to be something he might do as a result. Narratively this mirrors Duncan and Jenny's story, and the Red Wedding as conclusion to that I think works as well, the prince/lord who marries a lower-born girl for love, spurning the noble family he promised to marry into, causing strife and death. Symeon might still have Edmure marry Roslin, and have this wedding held in concurrence with peace talks/hostage exchanges with the Lannisters, but they're betrayed by a combination of their own men, and the Lannister forces there at the parley as well. RIP to the Starks. (Oh also in the realm of marriages, I do imagine that the Northern Houses might feel slightly miffed over Barra also having been engaged south too, over marrying into their Houses, since the Starks had married South the previous generation too). As for the aftermath, I kind of feel like Baelish's general obsession over Catelyn (and subsequently Sansa) might be transferred instead onto Barra in this AU (which still, yuck), and he might "run into" Symeon and Barra when they escaped to the Vale and offer himself as their "saviour". I like the idea of Symeon simply claiming himself to be "Alyn Stone" cause it's a nifty lil name, but Barra likely as not will become this AU's "Alayne" tbh.

c) I think Catelyn might be stiff, but not really hateful since Jonelle won't pose a direct threat to her sons' inheritances. I feel like the moment that she really truly warms up a bit (from earlier hostility) is between Symeon and Artos's births, Symeon because now she has a son, Jonelle is no longer a legit kind of threat to her place as Winterfell's Lady, and Artos because it's the added security of a "spare". I don't ever think they'll be close; the way Eddard introduced Jon/elle into the family made this kind of impossible in my eyes, but their relationship is more acquaintances with hierarchy, rather than being so strained as in canon. I don't think they'll have bad blood, I just don't see them as being close. Especially since if Jonelle marries a minor bannerman or something, her children might still prove threats, and in this AU there's not even a Night's Watch she could join in order to allay that kind of anxiety as the septas and silent sisters seem to be Faith-related organizations.

d) @khazzman introduced me to the idea of a Theon/Jonelle pairing so suffice it to say I'm a bit obsessed. It would provide a mirror canonverse Robb and Jeyne W. "I took her castle and she took my heart" (esp as I had Jonelle being named Jeyne at first as well), but also is a foil to Euron and Falia Flowers. It also has a few bits of the Jon/Ygritte kind of hostagetime romance element to it as well. I want Jonelle to play an active role in facilitating Branda and Raya’s escape here, but I think the knowledge that Theon killed two innocent children in their place would be no less horrifying to her (to anyone, really). It’s a few weeks that Theon holds Winterfell, but I think it’s a few weeks of a lot of angst. At first I wanted Jonelle to inadvertently make things worse for herself and everyone else (the way Jon kinda was at several points in the Night’s Watch), in opening the gates for the Boltons in the false belief they’re here to reclaim Winterfell for the Starks (but then I remembered that they were fighting Ser Rodrik’s men outside so that doesn’t work. Jonelle is spared from this maximum guilt overload for now). I don’t think Jonelle will follow Jeyne Poole’s fate. Well, idk she might? But I think marriage to her is far more tenuous for the Boltons to use than claiming Jeyne was Arya, since she’s a known bastard, and also several Starks are all known to be still living (albeit MIA and wanted dead). She’ll likely be a hostage at the Dreadfor, or perhaps she and Theon can escape, to the Wall or to Stannis. A girl in and greyjoy on a dying horse.

[grump-the-deer]

stuff about HDM ep 4

don’t know about GREAT THINGS but there are some for sure

let’s break it down binch

- first off, IOREK FUCKIN SLAPS. he’s BIG. he’s GNARLY. he’s BIG BEEF MAN with BEAR-MADE ARMOR that has segments that MOVE WITH HIS BODY. it’s PERFECT.

- buuuuuut his voice kinda sucks. too emotional, too high-pitched, too fast, not growly or deep enough at ALL. Ian McKellan was perfect for it but I would’ve taken someone like.......Iofur’s actor. he was stellar. why not him for Iorek??? switch their actors, Iofur is tryin to be a human anyway he can have the weird emotional tones

- similarly, his eyes are very expressive. probably a boon for visual storytelling, but I really think playing up the theme about bears being inhuman is important. Iorek’s eyes are described as beady and black and unfeeling. they’re almost human in this show, as is his voice, and I don’t like it.

- Lee Scoresby...............................................oh man. I have a lot of feelings about him. I’m gonna leave it to the end cause it’s long.

- Trollesund is really awesome - feels very realistic, very grimy, like an oil town would be. the Sysselman as a character is phenomenal. and IOREK STOMPING ON HIM - LEE LIKE “oh hey sysselman what’s up” is GOLD and you can TAKE IT TO THE BANK BOYO

- Lyra and Farder Coram - Farder Coram talking about Serafina - Farder Coram talking about his SSON I LOVE FARDER CORAM he has done a 180 in two episodes and I adore him now. he’s a lot more robust than the original, subtler Coram, but I like him anyway. he’s close enough but has his own thing going on, and it’s a good thing.

- Dr. Lanselius was a boss ass bitch I really liked him

- THEY KEPT THE CLOUD-PINE SCENE YESSSSSS

- but.....there was no pulling scene with Pan and Lyra facing Iorek. that was one of the best exposition and characterization scenes (and foreshadowing) in TGC and I was REALLY hoping for it. instead we’ve just got that half-assed exposition mention about dæmons being far away. fuck the exposition fairy.

- AND they didn’t let Iorek talk about his fucking motivations as a panserbjorn!!! what!!!!! they had Lee do it - WHY??? Iorek starts getting HEATED and DOES IT HIMSELF what the HELL that line about WAR is ICONIC how DARE THEY!!

- the cardinal is really fucking creepy........especially the way he hunches and slinks around...................A+ on that....

- more golden monkey denial, loving it. loving Mrs. Coulter clawing her way to power by any means necessary even though everyone can see she’s burning herself to the ground in the process

- I LOVE that they’re keeping to Iofur and his bears having weird overly-fancy filigree shiny armor. definitely not bear-made and very wrong.

- Fra Pavel has a great casting. and the little interaction with Boreal is very very ominous.

- Lyra. always Lyra. just, amazing. her humor and her spunk is outstanding. demolish Lee Scoresby, demolish Lord Faa, demolish Iorek, demolish Lee Scoresby’s bacon -

- I love this Hester I don’t even care if she’s not my Hester I love her anyway

- on that note, John Faa STILL doesn’t have a dæmon. ANd, I really don’t like his characterization. he’s so fucking stone cold and serious and hard-headed. he isn’t a man of the people like the original John Faa. he doesn’t have an ounce of warmth or passion. I like that he still respects Farder Coram enough to let him veto things but like........where is my father......this guy is a bonehead

- a few more background dæmons and diversity this time around, including Arctic fox Pan - who is ADORABLE and THEMATIC and PERFECT - so that was nice. still not enough but we’re getting there.

- I love love love Kaisa. I love love love his voice and his mannerisms. I hate hate hate that he’s a gyrfalcon now. his voice is not even CLOSE to being sharp enough to be a falcon. he’s a goddamn goose and I will die on this hill I promise you that. fuck your birds of prey spamming.

OKAY TIME TO SHOUT ABOUT LEE SCORESBY:

he’s good. he’s a good character, on his own. I love Lin, of course, I think he loves the role. good comedy with Hester, very passionate duo. funny, likable. a little morally gray. cute.

he’s not the original Lee Scoresby. and I miss that one. this one is a pickpocket, a loudmouth, and cares WAY too passionately about Iorek.

first of all, the original Lee might have been there to help Iorek, might not have. he was around, it was a stop in his search for work. he’s a bit guarded and he wouldn’t divulge that. this one is storming around demanding someone tell him about Iorek and that he’s gonna help him but uh......once he finds him he kind of gives up, like immediately. why is he so devoted to this bear? he saved his life once? seems a bit more than that. I just don’t get it. he’s a friend sure but Lee Scoresby wants RETIREMENT MONEY, first and foremost. not a bear. no jokes intended.

second of all, the Lee Scoresby I fell in love with would never pickpocket, it’s beneath his standards. he is considerably money-grubbing but not to that extent. it’s a cheap trick and can get you in loads of trouble if you’re caught. he’s an honest criminal, okay. he’ll do illegal shit if you hire him for it, but by god he’s going to get hired right and proper.

he’s not a super subtle guy but he’s laid back - he wouldn’t storm into a place and declare his reason for being there, he’d make careful conversation with a local and try to catch wind of what’s going on. if someone crossed a moral boundary THEN he would fight. he’s.......more mature, smarter. he’s always described perfectly as laconic. that’s his central trait. he’s an observant dude. he’ll stroll right into a situation and wisecrack and help the side he thinks is right, IF he thinks it’s worth the trouble. he doesn’t start fights if he can help it. he’s a hare, not a goddamn rhinoceros.

this Scoresby is most certainly not laconic. this is a different character, and while I like him well enough, and I really ADORE his interactions with Lyra for sure, I am sorely disappointed that I don’t get to see the Lee Scoresby I love on screen for this beautiful adaptation.

[nationalparkposters]

Best Things To Do in Denali National Park

Best Things To Do in Denali National Park: Encompassing the pristine area of Alaska's interior, Denali National Park is a place you'll never forget, and likely something you'll be talking about for years. With its incredible and diverse range of wildlife, meandering rivers, and massive mountain, the stunning scenery all around will leave you breathless and inspired. Open year-round, Denali has one main road that bisects the park, making it easily accessible by car or bus in the summer months. But come winter, the ice and snow make mass tourism difficult, and parts of the park are closed. For those adventurers seeking solace, late autumn through late spring holds a lot of promise, as the crowds are virtually gone. As the highest peak on the North American continent, Denali looms large at 20,310 feet above sea level. It is so large, in fact, that it creates its own weather system. It is not unusual for the mountain to be completely shrouded behind a bank of clouds. My name is Rob Decker and I'm a photographer and graphic artist with a single great passion for America's National Parks! I've been to 51 of our 63 National Parks, and Denali is the perfect way to experience the vast and untouched wilderness in Alaska's remote outback. Whether this is your first time to Denali or your tenth, here are the top activities in Denali National Park. Spectacular Hiking There are endless opportunities for hiking all around the park. Trails that are close to the park entrance are plenty, with many running along the main road and connecting to important attractions and facilities. The McKinley Station Trail is a short, but very interesting hike. However, for hiking that is a little more strenuous, the Mount Healy Overlook is the perfect trail if you don't want to climb but would like a stunning vantage point. The Triple Lakes Trail is the longest in the park and very beautiful. Hiking with a Ranger For an inside look into Denali NP, hiking with a ranger can help you appreciate and understand the great significance of Denali. Most ranger-led hikes take place around summertime from late May through mid-September. These hikes, as well as other ranger talks, are free and there's no need to sign up in advance. Photographing Denali A photographer's dream, Denali offers unsurpassed photographic opportunities all through the year. Beginning and amateur photographers have no shortage of subject matter with which to hone their skills. The biggest draw is of course “The Mountain,” which can be seen from as far away as Anchorage on a clear day. Try to catch the best lighting around “golden hour” which is right as the sun is going down. Go Camping To truly immerse yourself in the Denali experience, camping is a must. The park has several developed tent and RV campsites that can be booked online at the NPS website, or if you want to backpack and create your own primitive site, be sure to secure a backcountry permit. Most of the campsites are located along rivers, creeks, and lakes, so there really is no bad view from your camp spot! In Search of Wildlife Roaming wild and free, there is no guarantee that you will actually see wildlife, but the promise is always there. Iconic species such as moose, black and grizzly bears, wolves, caribou, and the famous Denali sheep are permanent residents here. Other smaller mammals are red squirrels, arctic ground squirrels, marmots and foxes. Biking on Denali Park Road Get up close and personal by letting the fresh air whip around you on an epic cycling tour of Denali. A full 92 miles along Park Road is open to cyclists and is a great way to get some exercise while taking in the grandeur of the park. You can start at the park entrance, or at Savage River and ride to your heart's content. Make it an afternoon, day trip, or multi-day excursion. The choice is yours. Explore the Savage River Further out, the Savage River Area is located near Miles 13 – 15 on Denali Park Road. The 2-mile long Savage River Loop is a lovely stroll along the river. For a more strenuous hike, The Savage Alpine Trail at over four miles long never disappoints. This is also a prime place for wildlife and bird viewing. Flightseeing Experiences There is no experience in Denali that can be more dramatic than seeing nature from a bird's eye view. Regular flight excursions from small aircraft are available to park visitors, and it's the perfect way to absorb the enormity and diversity of the landscape. Imagine flying over Denali mountain and spying the tiny forms of mountaineers as they make their way to the summit. Flights are available from several local companies outside the park. Visit the Sled Dogs From left to right: Troll, Hobbit, Munchkin, Lady, Royal, Throne, and Pika! If these adorable canine rangers don't win your respect, they will at least win your affections. The gorgeous huskies of Denali are an essential part of the historical and cultural significance of the park and are the only sled dogs in the U.S. that protect the wilderness and wildlife of the area, and have been doing it since the 1920's. You can visit them at their kennels, however as they are frequently out in the field doing their job, you will want to inquire beforehand to see if the kennel is open. Go Birding With both migratory and permanent-resident birds found throughout Denali year-round, the park is truly a birder's paradise. Of the 169 species of birds, some commonly seen species are the American Robin, Arctic Warbler, Black-billed Magpie, Blackpoll Warbler, Common Raven, Golden Eagle, Canada Jay, Gyrfalcon, Long-tailed Jaeger, Northern Hawk Owl, Surfbird, Swainson's Thrush, and Willow Ptarmigan. Exploring Denali with Kids Taking your kids to Denali will be an eye-opening and educational experience they will not soon forget. The park offers innumerable programs perfect for kids during the summer months, including summer camps and field trips. At the Visitor's Center, be sure to pick up the free Denali Discovery Pack and Junior Ranger Activity Guide. Click here to see the Denali National Park poster. Rob Decker is a photographer and graphic artist who had the rare privilege of studying under Ansel Adams in Yosemite National Park when he was just 19 years old. Now, Rob is on a journey to explore and photograph all 63 of America's National Parks. He's creating WPA-style posters to help people celebrate their own national park adventures -- as well as encourage others to get out and explore! https://national-park-posters.com/blogs/national-park-posters/best-things-to-do-in-denali-national-park?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=Sendible&utm_campaign=RSS

[rap541]

A very Matthew and Mary Christmas to you from your Secret Santa at the Matthew Review!

(Gift receiver’s note- This was written for me by the lovely thematthewreview and promises to be continued! Also there’s DINOSAURS, which I adore! Such a lovely M/M Secret Santa gift!

DECEMBER 1998. Provost’s Hall, University of West Yorkshire.

Dr. Matthew Crawley, in his 11th year on the economics faculty at the University of West Yorkshire, had gotten a substantial bonus that Christmas from the school’s president, Dr. Robert Grantham. Dr. Grantham knew that somehow he was holding a brilliant scholar back from fulfilling his potential - he might have been setting public policy for Britain, but for a teaching post in a middling institution in the North, surely. But Matthew was a devoted family man as well as an academic, with a pretty wife, an eight year old boy, and two daughters, one four years old and the other a toddler just out of nappies.

‘You’ve had a busy year, Matt,’ Grantham said, clapping the younger fellow on the shoulder. 'Your book came out, you helped in the search process for Merriman over there. I hope this is enough for a nice, quiet vacation for you, Mary and the kids.’

'This is incredibly generous of you, though, sir,’ Matthew said, still reeling inside at the size of a cheque large enough to pay for a prudently managed two week trip to a resort somewhere.

But the elder knew it would be good for the younger, and spoke almost confidentially now:

'You’d like some time off, though, wouldn’t you, Crawley? Go ahead. Come back refreshed after spring break! Hug the kids, and say hallo to Mary, there’s a good chap. Now off you go home for Christmas. You have just one assignment, to go over holiday brochures.’

'I will, Robert. And thank you so much again!’

NEW YEAR’S DAY, 1998

'Rawr! RAWR!’ George made a little snarl, making a plastic tyrannosaurus rex chase a somewhat battered action figure (only slightly out of scale) around on the living room carpet. 'You’re going to be delicious! Rawwwwrrrr!’

Little Violet Crawley reached for some of the other brightly coloured new toys closest to her brother, knocking down a raptor striped in orange and red and knocking a puce green apatosaurus nearly a foot away, grabbing the grey brachiosaurus by its long neck. George turned his big eyes upon his sister, grabbed the raptor, and glared at her, bringing the trinkets in his hands to face her. He then raised his voice in a louder

'RRRRRAWWWWRRRRRRR!’

Violet began to cry, and little Belle woke up startled from a nap in her dozing mother’s arms. Dad had been watching, looking up every so often from the Financial Times.

'George Matthew Crawley, you apologize to your sister this instant,’ Matthew insisted in the low, stern tone the lad feared more than any animal noise.

'But, Dad, she took my dinosaur!’ came the boy’s petulant complaint.

'I mean it, George. I’d rather not take those away for a week so soon after Christmas Day,’ Matthew replied evenly.

'Oh, all right. I’m sorry, Violet.’

The little girl’s sobbing lessened.

'You pwomise?’

'I promise. You can play with my raptor, too, okay? It’s more fun with two.’

Matthew and Mary, pleased with that exchange, filed it in their memories to be discussed after bedtime came.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Now tuckered out enough to retire themselves about 2 hours after they had put the kids to bed, the handsome professor and his main squeeze got under the covers, and then he turned out the lights. Still definitely enough in love that sleepy kisses drizzled over several moments were their way of saying good night, they let themselves sink into each other’s arms, engulfed in Egyptian cotton and down.

'Matt?’ Mary spoke in a hushed tone.

'Yes, darling?’

'That was very sweet of George to let Violet play with his toys, wasn’t it?’

'It was, at that…’ he smiled, the warmth of his voice suggesting his expression in the darkness.

'Even if he’s been eating, sleeping and breathing dinosaurs ever since that movie came out…’

The one Matthew and Mary had to take their son to because a few of the characters got eaten by those animatronic beasts. They’d liked the approach to the story, though they would have liked more of the moral tale…

'Oh, I can understand raptors, though,’ came the husband’s sweet tone.

'You do, Dr. Crawley?’ his bride of nine years drawled in that appealing, familiar way that never failed to lead him on.

'Yes, indeed… I learned that the word “raptor” comes from the same Latin word as “rapture” does…’

'Yes, darling?’

'… to seize and sweep away. Like a peregrine, like a gyrfalcon, if you prefer.’

'How about like a snuggly creepy-Crawley? I like those kind best…’

'You catch on well…’ Matthew observed. 'Now then… rawwwwwwrrrrrrrr. Rawwwwrrrrrrrrrrr… oh, just raaaaawwwwrrrrrrrr, my darling.’

A honeyed sound, said in happy families like these to mean 'I love you’ in dinosaur. Ah, who is the raptor, and who their prey? It is the eternal question…

THE NEXT MORNING

Now, Matt having - eventually - slept on the wonderful possibilities of taking his family on holiday, he looked over some brochures as he drank his morning coffee at half past six, narrowing his choices down to the places that were the most relaxing, the most beautiful and with the most fun in it for the kids.

'Got the flyers out again, I see,’ Mary uttered as she brought dry toast, butter and marmalade to the kitchen table. 'Anything stand out from the others?’

'Oh, a couple of nice locations,’ Matthew replied. 'I’m thinking Dorset, Devon, maybe Cornwall; on a budget, of course.’

'That’s my Matthew. Oh, remember, by the way, school fees are due for George next week.’

'I have it on the calendar, darling.’

'When’s our holiday on the calendar, then?’

'In the middle of March, after the winter doldrums set in,’ he replied. 'Good time to get away…’

'And George will be on Easter break, and Violet still won’t have started school yet. Good,’ said Mary. 'We just need to make sure there will be enough for the kids to do.’

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Matthew had decided that they would go to the Heritage Coast, and stay in Lyme Regis, where the Easter Bonnet Parade, an aquarium, a museum, fossil hunting and the Cobb made up a list of major attractions. History and literature also played parts in his choice, as he thought it charming to see places associated with famous authors, Lord Admiral Nelson and the little collie, Lassie. The time was nigh to book a place to stay, and he found a small hotel in the northern part of town, the Seashell Inn. Children were welcome and ate breakfast for free. Why not? He rang up this Mr. Henry Talbot, the proprietor, and got an answer after a few rings.

'763904. Seashell Inn, Tony Gillingham here at your service….’

Easy enough to book a suite for a family of five, and Matthew was able to report to Mary as they did the dishes that night that the Crawleys now had a place to stay in Lyme Regis.

[writingrampant]

New WIP!

So finished a major edit on my main WIP: Archer 887. Now wanting to embrace the october ambiance and write an idea I’ve had kicking around for a while. So here’s a very rough word vomit. I’m thinking an 1980s darker Jim Hensonish fantasy, like Willow or Labrynth.

The air lay heavy with incense. That and the darkness pressed down on her. The silken sheets dragged on her limbs. She struggled against them, against the mist numbing her thoughts. The heavy screen hurt her hands and sent fire up her arms as her muscle cried out at the exertion.

The air outside the enclosure was cold and bright. She gasped gratefully, legs wobbling as she pushed herself from the stone floor. Each deep lungful washed more of the haze from her thoughts. She could identify the space now, a bed chamber, the dark entrapment a bed. The heavy shutters surrounding it were ornately carved. Sharp edges caught her fingers while she fought for balance.

She stumbled forward, still half-blind in the dim room. It was cold outside the screens. She trembled, trying to remember. Sunlight pierced the cracks in the window shutters.

She half-ran, her shivers only partly the chill. Panic, fear, desperation. Unusual and unwelcome emotions. She bruised her fingers scrabbling at the latches of the window screens.

Finally, she threw them wide. The blast of wind blew her sweaty hair back, raising bumps on her arms and hurting her eyes. She held them open, no matter they watered.

Tamadin sprawled below her, the slate roofs shimmering in the afternoon sun. The bright colors of the markets, the boats returning from the day’s fishing. She found the temple in the distance and, with it, remembered:

Warm stone under her knees, the flicker of her candle. A sound behind her in the sanctum. A cruel hand around her neck, a thick cloth over her mouth. Then darkness.

Fury warmed her and burned away the last of the drug clouded her mind. High over the city, even above the shrieking seabirds, she could only be in one place. The Tamadin Keep mirrored the temple, a dark shadow to the beacon at the temple’s peak. She turned and lifted her chin as the heavy doors opened behind her.

A brute of man entered, his soldiers flanking. He saw her by the window and leered.

“O'nqour, lady.”

She clenched her fists. “You will pay for this blasphemy, Ero.”

“Your goddess has no power here, Nasiphe.” His eyes crawled over her body, touching on her bare shoulders, the hem of the skimpy covering she wore. “And no one will heed your screams.”

A new fear tightened her chest as his soldiers laughed meanly. Ero advanced slowly, watching her through narrowed eyes. She edged back, hand up in a futile gesture of defense.

His tone was mocking, confident in his victory. “There’s no escape. Please me, and maybe I’ll keep you for myself.”

He spoke the truth: there was no escape. Not with her life.

She whirled.

“What-? Stop her!”

The bright square of the window beckoned her. The stone edge of the window was warm from the sun, the sea air salty.

“No!” Ero’s guttural cry was lost in the shriek of the wind by her ears. She took a last look at her home and closed her eyes.

“They’re coming!”

Her eyes snapped open. The city still spread below, the sea lapping at its edge.

“Hurry!”

She looked for the voice, rough and biting. Something streaked by her, rising on the updraft. She tried to follow his path. She tumbled, buffeted on all sides. Frantic, she spread her arms, trying to steady her fall.

“Fool girl! Fly!”

Fly?

Cold shadows fell over her, colder than the wind, colder than the winter sea when ice floes drifted from the south. Three dark forms moved closer, black against the pale sky. She could feel when their fell eyes found her, stabbing into her very being.

“Quickly!”

The roof peaks rose up to threaten her, jagged teeth eager to devour her. She pushed against the air, thrusting with all her strength. The ground fell away in leaping bounds. She rose up out of the shadow of the cliffs, back into the brilliant sunlight.

A piercing cry that hurt her ears. The form was back, hovering next to her. It was a gyrfalcon, silver wings glinting the same as the ocean waves.

“I’ll hold them off! Fly southeast, along the coast until you reach the marshes! Go!”

The shadows pressed closer. The gyrfalcon twisted and shot over her, striking one the menacing forms just as its claws raked her back. It shrieked, mouth gaping, talons flashing as the two of them grappled.

“Go!”

She obeyed and fled, leaving the mass of shrieks and feathers behind, darting down close to roofs. These gave way to fish huts, the smell of dead and drying fish cloying. She was gasping by the time she reached the dunes. But she dare not slow, no matter her muscles grew heavy and numb. The light faded and she pushed on.

The streets were empty with more than the falling dusk. Soldiers searched the streets and the citizens of Tamadin escaped indoors. Ero strode in their wake, kicking forgotten baskets, shoving past those too slow to clear the way.

“My lord!” One of his captains pointed to a listing roof line. A scrap of fabric fluttered in the evening breeze. Once retrieved, he gripped the silk until it burned his hands.

“No body, sir.”

“Find her,” he snarled. “Now!”

Protests sounded from the nearest house as soldiers kicked open the door.

“Whoever shelters her will be hung from the keep walls!” The noise quickly spread as the soldiers searched the streets, overturning seller’s stalls as they went.

Ero strode in their wake, seething. He jerked to a halt at the mouth of a narrow alley. Deep in the shadows stood three cloaked forms, hoods drawn ow over their faces.

“You lost her,” he accused. He held firm as their faces turned to him, unseen eyes on his skin. “I was promised!”

They did not speak, had never spoken. He sneered. “Find her!”

He stormed away and did not look back to see them rise above the eaves. They moved southeast over the city, smearing black against the falling night.

Night in the marsh was quiet, but not silent. Wind hissed through the reeds, taller than a man. Small animals moved in the shadows, streams gurgled. The trails were winding, an endless slough of grasses and water.

Rasiel moved confidently in the moonlight. She had been born on the edge of this marsh, spent her childhood skipping through its labyrinth. She listened keenly to the tiny noises of the night. Thanking them, she moved deep into reeds.

She heard the fluttering breaths of the kestrel before she found the poor creature tucked in a hollow of grass. She bent the grasses back and smiled. The tiny falcon slept, head under her wing, tiny shivers running over her body.

“Poor thing,” Rasiel murmured. The girl hardly stirred, only opening a dull eye. A feeble protest, the smallest cry. Rasiel hushed the exhausted girl and tucked her into a woven basket lined with goose down.

“Come along, little one.”

Vaeba woke with a start. She was trapped! Dark walls pressed close, knocking her limbs, catching her hair.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Vaeba cringed down. The voice boomed, the tone kind, but physically oppressive. The door opened. She cowered back, pressing against the rough walls.

A hand gripped her. She struggled, heart hammering against their palm.

“There, now. Hush, leawa.”

Her nails scrabbled uselessly. Her stomach swooped as they lowered her to the floor. She had been falling, she remembered, endless falling.

“It will take just a moment, my dear. Be brave.”

She couldn’t fight anymore, couldn’t fly anymore. She lay shivering on the hard floor, a rough mat of some kind scratching her cheek. She didn’t open her eyes as the light shifted, the soft glow of a candle muted by their shadow.

A gentle hand lifted her head. “Drink, my lady.” She didn’t resist as a cup poured cold water between her lips. She swallowed painfully, coughing as it stung in her throat.

“You’ve had quite the ordeal, lady.” Something warm was wrapped around her shoulders, the hand now firm as it lifted her to her feet. “Lay here.”

It was blessedly soft, smelling of smoke and sage. Vaeba huddled under the blankets.

“Sleep now, lady.”

Sallis looked up from his meal as Rasiel drew back the curtain. “Well?”

Rasiel snuffed the candle she carried. “Sleeping now.” The woman settled by the fire and looked up to him with bright eyes. “You did well today.”

Sallis grunted and returned to his stew. “Any sign of Ero or his men?”

Rasiel shook her head. Sallis was surprised. The girl’s trail had been easy to follow. Rasiel’s magic had smothered it in the slough, but it would lead them within ten miles of this place.

“The skies are clear,” Rasiel went on, dishing herself a bowl from the pot set to the side of the coals.

Sallis was not comforted by this. While Ero’s mages preferred the form of corvids, it was not the only guise they used to travel unnoticed. “I will move her at dawn.”

“She needs rest,” Rasiel said firmly. “She is exhausted, as you may imagine. Her first change, a flight of nearly a hundred miles. Who knows what horrors before you found her.”

The edge of his wooden spoon pressed sharp into this hand. He spoke harshly, “She needs to survive. Or her flight will have been for nothing.”

Rasiel huffed and muttered something under her breath. Sallis ignored her and stood. “I will check the sentries.”

“Try not to scare them half to death this time,” Rasiel called after him. “They’re only wee little wrens!”

Sallis strode the narrow passages of the cave system. He slowed as he neared a small alcove, a natural chamber further dug out to form a room of moderate size. He shifted the heavy hanging over the door.

A single candle burned with its flame carefully shielded by glass. The girl lay asleep on a cot, curled into a ball hardly visible beneath the pile of furs and blankets.

He let the curtain drop and moved on.

She was roused from a deep sleep. Gratefully, as it had been full of nightmares and chasing shadows. She blinked up at the pointed face of the woman.

“Up, now, little one.”

Vaeba sat up, keeping the blankets tight around her. “Where am I?”

“PLACE, lady. You are safe here, among friends.”

Vaeba drew back further. The rough stone wall pressed against her back. “Who are you?”

“I am Rasiel, lady. You may not remember, it was rather a traumatic thing.”

Vaeba recognized her voice. And her gentle hands. She allowed the woman to draw her to her feet.

“What am I doing here?”

Rasiel fussed around her, slipping a scratchy woolen shift over Vaeba’s head. “You were captured, kidnapped, by that pig, Ero of Tamadin.”

The name filled her empty stomach with icy dread. “Where is he?”

“Far from here, lady. A hundred miles distant.”

A hundred miles? How had she travelled so far? She recalled the wind, howling as she plummeted. The smell of seagrass and the chill of the marsh at night. She shivered and drew on the woolen trousers this Rasiel held out to her.

“Everything is a bit large, I’m afraid. Do they not feed you in that temple of yours?”

Vaeba bristled. “Why should I fill my belly when my people go hungry?”

Rasiel checked a moment, then spoke soothingly. “I meant no offense, lady. But, fill your belly this morning, you must. You have a long day of travel ahead of you. Sit, eat.”

Vaeba tied the last stay in place and settled on a wobbly stool. Rasiel pressed a bowl of warm grains on her, with berries and nuts mixed in. She added a dollop of honey to the top and Vaeba ate eagerly.

She watched silently as Rasiel prepared a travelling kit, tucking food and supplies into a small satchel. She added some herbs and an extra shawl. “For the chill nights, my dear.”

Vaeba finished her meal and set the bowl aside. “Where am I going?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

Rasiel grinned at her. “Both, lady. Only Sallis knows.”

“Who is Sallis?”

Footsteps answered her question. Heavy steps, a man, wearing boots. The sound raised the hairs on her neck. Ero had the same step, the nails of his boots striking the flagstones of his keep.

The man who entered was nothing like the Lord of Tamadin. A dark man, with a thin face and quick, glinting eyes. He saw her and gave a short nod that might have been respectful.

“She ready?”

Rasiel buckled the satchel closed. “Yes.”

Another glancing look. “Come on, then.”

Vaeba stood but did not follow him as he turned away. “Who are you?” she demanded.

He stopped, half turned to the cave opening. “Sallis, of Ibith.”

Could it be true? Ibith was hundreds of miles away, across the mountains. Vaeba spoke calm, but firm. “Where do you plan to take me?”

“To PLACE,” the man said shortly.

“No,” Vaeba countered. “You will return me to Tamadin at once.”

He turned face her fully. “It is too dangerous for you there.”

“I must return to my people,” she insisted. “They are in danger. Ero is mad; he must be stopped.”

Sallis scowled. “I agree. But you are not fit challenger.”

“My people need me.”

“Alive.”

“What good is my safety when they starve in the streets?”

“Your presence will not fill their bellies, lady, any more than your Goddess will.”

She sniffed. A nonbeliever, she could see. Not just of her devotion, but any.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Prompt: so, in a world where some people are shifters the team (who are all predator shifters) think Tony's just human (because, no animal scent) and needs his big strong wolf-shifter boyfriend to take care of him. Tony plays along at first because it's hilarious, but he's a dragon-shifter (super rare, so they didin't recognize the scent)!, and soon gets sick of it. Bucky can be in on the joke or he could be oblivious, puffing up his chest because he's protecting his mate!!!

Bucky: Arctic wolf | Steve: brown bear | Natasha: Siberian tiger | Clint: honey badger | Sam: gyrfalcon

“Oh, I see how it is,” Tony says when Clint starts scrabbling at his leg, and snatches him up by the scruff of the neck despite his squeaking protests. He lifts the squirming bundle of flailing limbs up higher so they’re face to face, and scowls at him. “Shifting to search for berries, sure. You just want to be cuddled.”

Badgers can’t smirk, but, somehow, Clint manages to bring the sentiment across anyway. The smug bastard. Tony sighs, and rolls his eyes, but lets Clint drape himself over his shoulders like the world’s ugliest fur cowl anyway.

Next to him, Bucky huffs, clearly amused. Tony flicks one of his ears. “I’m not a pushover,” he insists, and grumbles when Bucky bumps his nose against his hip. “Whatever, shut up.”

He settles his hand on top of Bucky’s head, and curls his fingers into the soft fur between his ears, scratching softly. Bucky’s eyes go heavy-lidded, and he drops his head on Tony’s knee, a low, satisfied rumbling noise starting up in the back of his throat.

Sighing, Tony settles back against the mossy log behind him, and grabs one of the sticks around him to poke at the embers of the fire he’d started earlier. It’s still light out and not cold enough to need it yet, but whatever alien game the others manage to hunt down, Tony refuses to eat it raw. Or whole. Again.

He checks the transmitter around his wrist again, but there’s still nothing but the steadily blinking red light, indicating that they’re still in their universe, though not on Earth anymore. Which is definitely preferable to that one time last month when they’d ended up in a parallel dimension where Steve had been a secret Hydra agent, but still not ideal since all they can do, really, is wait for Thor and Bruce to track down Strange to pull them back home.

It’s Bucky who notices first, head snapping up, and ears swiveling forward as he stares at a seemingly random patch of trees across the clearing they’ve made camp in. Tony hears it a moment later; footsteps, and a lot of them.

“Shit,” he hisses, and quickly sets Clint down on the ground before jumping up, and stepping in front of both Bucky and Clint.

Bucky shoots him a flat look, and Tony shrugs, smiling a little despite the possible danger lurking close by. He knows that Bucky is more than capable of defending himself, has personally made sure to improve his prosthetic to make the change from human to wolf and back smoother and less painful, and that Clint is much faster and more dangerous than he looks, but he can’t help it. It’s instinct to protect his pack and mate, even in his—admittedly delicate—human form.

The natives that clear the treeline a moment later appear humanoid, if a little more on the scaley lizard side of the spectrum. They’re armed, mostly with bows and spears, but they don’t seem aggressive or angry so far, merely confused and curious.

Which, of course, is the moment Steve and Natasha come crashing into the clearing, roaring and, in the latter’s case, covered in blood. Sam screeches somewhere above them, and yep, now the natives are reading their bows, arrows trained, of course, mostly on Tony.

Raising his hands, Tony takes a careful step forward, turning his head to bare his teeth at Bucky when Bucky growls from behind him. Bucky whines, clearly not happy with Tony’s plan, but stays put.

“So,” Tony says, addressing the natives, “I know it’s cliche, but this really isn’t what it looks like. Or, you know what, I don’t know what you’re thinking, so maybe it is exactly what it looks like. Point is, we don’t mean any harm, we’re just waiting on our friends back home to find a way to bring us back.”

One of the natives says something back, voice clicky and high. It—She? He? Them?—lifts its spear, pointing it at Tony. Bucky growls, and more of the natives move closer, clicking to each other.

“Okay, that didn’t go as—hey, wow, okay, hello,” Tony says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when what he suspects is the native leader presses two warm, smooth fingers against Tony’s forehead, still talking. “I have no idea what you’re saying, but I promise you I taste terrible. If that’s where this is going.”

He can see Steve, on his hind legs to make himself look bigger, and Natasha with Sam perched on her shoulder, ready to strike if necessary. Bucky’s a ball of tension at his heels, and Clint is—somewhere, Tony is never entirely sure what’s going through Clint’s head at any given moment, but it usually works out for him, injuries and ridiculous accidents notwithstanding.

The native leader stops talking, then, and puts his hand on Tony’s chest. Tony stares at it, and it stares back at him expectantly.

Tony smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want.”

The leader clicks at him, annoyed if Tony’s reading it right, and then turns to hiss-click at one of the other natives, who comes forward holding up its shield. The leader snatches it, thrusting it under Tony’s face for Tony to see, and Tony can’t help but laugh when he sees what’s painted on it.

He nods. “Sure, yeah, I can do that. Is that what you want?” Steve makes a warning noise, but Tony waves a dismissive hand at him. “It’s fine, this will work. I think.”

Before anyone else can voice any more protests, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shifts. He can hear the collective gasps of the natives and Avengers alike, and when he opens his eyes again—sharper now, and much, much higher up from the ground—Natasha, Sam, and Steve look more taken aback than the natives.

Who seem excited, rapidly clicking at each other, and apparently forgetting all shyness as they swarm around Tony to touch him. Tony lets them, amused, lowering himself down to lie on his belly. Bucky quickly moves to curl up between Tony’s forelegs, and proceeds to scowl at everyone and everything.

“What the fuck,” Clint speaks up, back to his human form, dropping down from a nearby boulder. “You—I didn’t—what the fuck, Tony? A dragon?”

Tony puffs a cloud of smoke at him, and chuffs when Clint coughs, and glares at him.

It’s another two hours until Bruce, Thor, and Strange finally find a way to get them back home, but Tony doesn’t mind the wait, not when the natives bring out the food, drinks, and music. The little gifts—herbs, fruit, pretty stones, and shiny coins—they bring for Tony aren’t bad, either.

Some rumours about dragons are true, after all.

- Potrix

[ageofwrathrpg]

Name: Kristina Yerikevna Antonova Age: 27 Ability: Darkness Manipulation Faction: LESYAS as a SPY Faceclaim: Amber Heard Availability: OPEN

THE STORY || CW: Abduction

Kristina never liked Russia. She never liked the fear-mongering government, the bigoted people, or the pervasiveness of the gangs in deceptively cheerful streets. She never liked the cold that was more than cold – the sort of cold that froze hearts and empathy and turned bones as brittle as birds’. Above all else, she never liked the fact that her house seldom felt like a home. Kristina was born into Muscovite suburbs to a good family who wanted only good for her. It was hardly their fault that she grew up bitter. Her family was made of optimistic people and she grew to frown at their apparent naivete – especially that of her younger sister, Emilia. Nevertheless, what Kristina lacked in optimism, she made up for in her brains. By the age of 11, she was repurposing medical magazines as bedtime stories and by 16, she was sneaking into university lectures, listening silently in the darkest corners of the room and hidden in shadows which she could, by now, control.

While in time, Kristina enchanted her professors, she was never able to charm her sister. She knew that. She knew that she appeared egotistically ambitious in Emilia’s eyes, never settling for the simple joys that their parents provided and always aspiring for greater heights, greater education, and company. Meanwhile, Emilia was quite simple in comparison, all mousy and gentle, but to Kristina she was an overwhelming creature whom she was destined to fail. Years passed and in the same way Kristina gained influence within the world of science, she lost the love of her sister. At 23, when Kristina was offered the opportunity to attend a medical university in the states, Emila spat bitterly that she had always suspected Kristina would abandon their family. And so she did. For three years, Kristina studied profusely. Her only setback was a language barrier, which she quickly overcame in her first year of study. By her senior year, she was a star student who was loved by her peers and desired by many prestigious clinics. But weeks before her graduation, she received a troubling letter from home. Emilia wrote in a hurried, urgent scrawl and begged her return. She wrote she was afraid for her life. Kristina dismissed it, convinced Emilia was simply playing a vile trick, but five days later, Emilia had been kidnapped. Sick with guilt, Kristina packed lightly and caught the next flight home, thus putting her career on hold. She was picked up from the airport by her parents, but had little interest in reunion. Most important was finding Emilia, which Kristina set upon immediately. For four straight months, she scoured the streets, spinning in circles, finding clues of her sister’s whereabouts and eventually stumbling into Rostek territory. She was rescued by Lesyas who promised aid in return for her allegiance. Despite herself, Kristina compiled.

THE CHARACTER

Kristina never let anything stop her in the past. When her peers doubted her abilities, she proved them wrong. When she was thrust into a foreign university, she learned the English language and wrote masterful essays. And now, though her shame is as heavy as the world, she has resolved to bite her tongue, to strengthen herself, and transform herself into Atlas. Kristina was never simple. She is mysterious and she is brave, ambitious and determined. Now, because she was wrong, because she feels responsible for Emilia’s capture, she is ruthless. There is nothing she won’t do to find her sister. There is no bone she won’t break to bring her home.  

CONNECTIONS

Emilia Yerikevna Antonova - Emilia is Kristina’s sister and two years her senior, but being related by blood never made them family. As children, Kristina was particularly talented in her academics. Meanwhile, Emilia was particularly talented in finding things about Kristina to gripe about – her dirty shoes, her tangled hair – and for as long as Kristina can remember, she attributed Emila’s spite to jealousy. But it was more than that. Kristina herself wasn’t exactly an ideal sister. She would purse her lips disapprovingly when she thought Emila wasn’t looking. She would feel great surges of pity or embarrassment when Daila said something especially foolish. Emilia was never jealous of Kristina. SHe loathed her. And now, Kristina begins to understand this, that she dampened her sister’s already low self-esteem, and now she want to help her, to apologize, to offer her reconciliation, salvation, something. But she’s afraid. Because though Kristina may know how to mend broken bones and severed tendons, she was never taught how to remedy a lifetime of hate. She was never taught how to heal... this. 

Yelina ‘Lina’ Ionevna Dorokhova - Weeks before her Lesya recruitment, Kristina found herself succumbing to paranoia. Fear for her sister was only magnified by a feeling of being watched, increasingly, twice a week, three times a day, then always – eyes. Sometimes dark and beady, belonging to a bushy tailed squirrel, then sharp and precise, fixed in the skull of a lithe gyrfalcon. On the day of her recruitment, it- stopped, but not before Kristina saw a creature morph into the young woman who would introduce herself as Yelina. Later it was revealed that Yelina served as the Lesya’s ears and eyes in terms of Kristina, and was instrumental in her recruitment. For the latter, she’s grateful, but can’t help feeling on edge whenever she and Yelina are in the same room. 

Mischa Lazlovich Orlov - To Kristina, Mischa will always be a mind first, a friend second. That was how she learned his name after all. “The government attacked our servers,” said a Lesya, explaining the 2am panic. “But our computer genius saved us. Mischa Orlova, you know him?” Kristina did not. Two weeks later, she would be dressing his broken thumb, she knew how, she was a surgeon after all. The pair hit it off immediately and now they bond over coffee. Mischa raves about computer viruses, and she, about biological ones. 

Alina Yurievna Koblenko - The closest Kristina’s ever gotten to finding her sister led her straight into the brothel of Alin Koblenko. When the woman greeted her, all snake eyes and knowing, she doubled back in horror with such suddenness that the world spun into blackness and she fell, teleported, several feet away. Another dead end. The thought lodged so certainly, so permanently in her brain, that either it was planted there artificially, or it had to be right. Now, the thought of Alina fill her with endless dread and hopelessness. Another dead end.

Wonda Lazlovna Repina - Befriending Wonda was so startlingly easy. It was like looking into a mirror and realizing the thing had a pulse. Naturally, their shared burden of having a missing sibling had much to do with how effortlessly they bonded, but Kristina recognized Wonda’s spark too – there’s a fire that Yelina knows and loves because these are the same flames that spurred her through her own successes. Wonda is Kristina. She’s older perhaps, but they own the same heartbeat. Admittedly, Wonda has her ruthlessness as well, and indeed it can be a frightening thing for a beast to look itself in the eye.

[[ More Connections ]]

ETC

When Kristina joined the Lesyas, she told her parents that she was given a job in the Burdenko General Military Clinical Hospital. She feels wretched each time they express their pride. 

Kristina is very much her own patient; she treats her wounds impersonally and feeds herself objectively. Once, Kristina was very fond of Lymonnyk pies, but has since lost her appetite. Now she eats out of necessity, measuring her portions with clinical precision.

When she’s tired, stressed, or excited, she’s known to accidentally slip into a blend of English and Russian. Though others sometimes find it endearing, it’s tremendously inconvenient for her as she values getting her point across clearly and concisely. 

In college, Kristina kept a journal written in Russian to disguise her entries from curious peers. Now she keeps one in English and stores it in the same place she’d kept her last: in her nightstand, hidden beneath several magazines and an annotated copy of The Canon of Medicine. 

Since her return home, she calls her parents daily, writes them letters, and genuinely enjoys their company. She never expected to prioritize her family as she does now and in all honesty, she’s grown to rather like it.

[jasonheart1]

Air Force gyrfalcon improving after injury

AIR FORCE ACADEMY, Colo. (AP) — An Air Force falcon injured at West Point during a prank Saturday before the annual rivalry football game between the service academies is back home and showing signs of improvement.

The 22-year-old bird named Aurora "was able to fly around in her pen" on Sunday, said Air Force Academy spokesperson Lt. Col. Tracy A. Bunko.

The development is "an extremely good sign," Bunko said, adding that the academy is "grateful for the outpouring of support and optimistic for Aurora's recovery."

The falcon will continue to be evaluated and will get antibiotics to prevent infection, Bunko said.

Army officials at West Point apologized Sunday for the injuries to the falcon and promised a full investigation.

"We are taking this situation very seriously, and this occurrence does not reflect the Army or USMA core values of dignity and respect," the academy said in a statement.

Sam Dollar, Air Force's falconry team adviser, told The New York Times on Sunday that two West Point cadets took the birds, threw sweaters over them and stuffed them into dog crates. Dollar said the cadets turned over the birds Saturday morning, with Aurora's wings bloodied — likely from thrashing inside the crate.

"I think they had them for a couple hours and then they realized it was a bad mistake," Dollar told the newspaper. "When Aurora started thrashing around in the crate, they decided that wasn't a good thing."

Aurora is the Air Force Academy's official and oldest mascot. On the school's falconry page, the bird is described as a white phase gyrfalcon, which is a "falcon species that is extremely rare in the wild and whose beauty will take your breath away."

"Unless you are federally licensed, you can't even touch them," Dollar said, adding the Air Force cadets who work with the birds spend two months in training and are tested before they can handle them.

Three percent of all falcons are gyrfalcons, and 1 percent of those are white, according to the website. The school acquired Aurora 22 years ago as a gift from the association of graduates.

__

More AP college football: https://apnews.com/Collegefootballand https://twitter.com/AP_Top25

from Local News https://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/local-news/air-force-mascot-falcon-improving-after-injury-at-west-point

[kansascityhappenings]

Air Force mascot falcon improving after injury at West Point

AIR FORCE ACADEMY, Colo. — An Air Force falcon injured at West Point during an apparent prank before Saturday’s annual rivalry game between the two service academies is back home and showing signs of improvement.

The 22-year-old bird named Aurora “was able to fly around in her pen” on Sunday, said Air Force Academy spokesperson Lt. Col. Tracy A. Bunko.

The development is “an extremely good sign,” Bunko said, adding that the academy is “grateful for the outpouring of support and optimistic for Aurora’s recovery.”

The falcon will continue to be evaluated and will get antibiotics to prevent infection, Bunko said.

Army officials at West Point apologized Sunday for the injuries to the falcon and promised a full investigation.

“We are taking this situation very seriously, and this occurrence does not reflect the Army or USMA core values of dignity and respect,” the academy said in a statement.

The Gazette of Colorado Springs reported that the falcon was taken from an Army colonel’s home in a prank by West Point cadets, according to an Air Force representative who spoke to the newspaper on the condition of anonymity.

Aurora is the Air Force Academy’s official and oldest mascot. On the school’s falconry page, the bird is described as a white phase gyrfalcon, which is a “falcon species that is extremely rare in the wild and whose beauty will take your breath away.”

Three percent of all falcons are gyrfalcons, and 1 percent of those are white, according to the website. The school acquired Aurora 22 years ago as a gift from the association of graduates.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2018/11/04/air-force-mascot-falcon-improving-after-injury-at-west-point/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/air-force-mascot-falcon-improving-after-injury-at-west-point/