#Adelmar
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blooming-bruises · 11 months ago
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Adelmar listened, and then reached forward to grab the boys face, digging his fingers into the plump flesh of his cheeks to force him to stop speaking or moving.
"I will torture you for it, do not worry. I need only to know you know it. Can you nod for me? To indicate you are not a waste of my time?"
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domovi · 1 year ago
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Fic: My duty
Short description: Colleague's words willy-nilly bring Mercy Dawn back to the past — a sad event in 2020, about which even Dawn prefers to remain silent.
Warnings: death, mentions of dead bodies, blood loss, shooting, injections, limbs and their absence.
Author's note: I'll try to be brief. I've been writing for a long time, but this fanfic can officially be called my first piece. I would like to pay tribute to the @ask-the-becile-boys blog and its moderator, which became the source of my inspiration. Dear Muse, you are my muse. Don't judge me. My friend forced me into writing this pun.
Translator's note: Guess who :)
Just wanted to wish you to enjoy the reading and also remind you that all claims for the translation are provided to @alreorem. It's my first time doing Russian to English translation so don't judge me too harsh, please. Just DM me and politely point out my mistake if you find one. Thanks for understanding! <3
-------------------------------------------------------
Dawn, laying on the dining table, diligently tried to sleep, but something, or rather someone, interfered with this important, urgent matter.
Soroh: Dawny~ Ten more sheets~
Dawn: Nope.
Soroh: Hey! Don't even think about shoving everything on me!
Dawn: What do you mean by ʼeverything'?! There's a little left!
Soroh also looked tired. So much that he couldn't argue with his colleague and only pressured her with a clouded look. Next to them was a thick stack of documents that could scare any inexperienced worker, but Dawn and Soroh are old-school people, and this amount of work was a little less frightening.
The game of peepers was interrupted by Flint, who placed two mugs of water right in front of the noses of the sufferers. For an hour, he watched his barely alive colleagues, who seemed to have lost their last convolutions on half of the paperwork. Recently, they ended the argument about the correctness of filling the documents, and if earlier Soroh still took up the alteration of papers, now he quickly gave up, agreeing with Dawn and her 'It'll do."
Dawn: OOOH! Boiling water!
She cheered up and began to warm her hands. Coffee, tea, sugar weren't brought so often, their last joy was hot or cold water, though all sorts of impurities felt terribly wrong. They even tried to mix it with a tasteless parody of food, but they quickly regretted it. And sometimes Dawn managed to get vitamins. And even for such merits, Soroh still couldn't calm down.
Soroh: Work first.
Dawn: Am I even not allowed to drink?
Soroh: Exactly. No, I mean, are you serious? After boiling water, you'll stop thinking at all!
Dawn: Actually! As an assistant, you should do all of this. Look at me. In my youth, I was left alone with all the work.
Soroh: ... In the youth. And what period of life are you experiencing now?
Dawn: Old age Soroh, old age. So be kind, show respect for old age and finish everything yourself.
The woman lay down on the table and stretched like a sleepy cat with her arms and legs extended as far as possible. Soroh, on the other hand, didn't share Dawn's enthusiasm, shoving her leg with force.
Flint: Old age? And how many years have you been working here?
Dawn: Well... It's been four years already.
Flint: But that's only one year longer than Soroh..
Soroh: It depends on how to look at this situation. Dawn is the only one of my good acquaintances who has worked at Industries for more than three years. Though... There are also quite a few silent people, and I had no business with the authorities.
Flint: For real?
Dawn: ... Don't even look at me.
Flint was genuinely puzzled. He knew that Industries wouldn't let go of its wards, but then where did ordinary workers who had worked for more than four years go? The only outgoing person of the trio was Soroh, and Flint shifted his gaze to him.
Soroh: I've heard rumors about... a large-scale incident. Someone talks about an explosion that caused the release of green matter; someone talks about mass liquidation ... A lot of rumors can be heard, but I don't know what to believe...
Flint looked at Dawn again, hoping to see at least the slightest clue in her facial expressions, but she was already sitting, finishing her work and no longer going to take part in the conversation.
Dawn: ...It's not something you should know.
-
THREE YEARS AGO
_
Pylartes: Look. I need you to rewrite it on new forms and put it in piles. Oh, and write down two people with the best performance for me.
The day began quite ordinarily. It'd seem that only yesterday Dawn managed to deal with all the paperwork, as she was handed a mountain of new documents. And where do they get so much paper from, so that later they can rewrite it all! Mercy had a lot of resentment about her work, even with a lot of experience and a year of work, she had never received confidence in operations in Becile Industries.
Dawn: As you say...
The woman already knew that it was useless to argue with this position, at least with Pylartes. Not even an hour had passed before he hurriedly left the laboratory, not bothering to report whether he would return today or not. But Dawn wasn't upset by her loneliness, she only made herself comfortable, throwing her leg over a nearby chair.
This could have continued all day long, if not for a sudden interruption in the system.
After blinking a couple of times, the lamps went out, and the buzz of the working devices subsided. The last thing that stopped working in this room was Dawn, who was still finishing the sentence from memory. The main problem here is that in the dark the words climb on the lines, or even worse, on other words.
Only after the dot was put, the girl looked out into the corridor, which was also immersed in darkness, only a couple of anxious voices came from the direction of the Archive. The electricity was cut off in the entire building, which was actually strange and could only speak of an unforeseen situation. Pylartes would definitely warn about this, even though he was quite forgetful.
While Dawn speculated, the workers quickly fell silent as they returned to the workplace. Mercy, too, could have returned to her office and shy away from work, but she had two strong but poorly sealed refrigerators that couldn't withstand a long lack of power.
At her usual pace, Dawn cleaned up as much as possible, closed the laboratory and headed to the mechanics she knew. They didn't talk much; a couple of times she brought them a hematocrit centrifuge for repair, and a couple of times they came to her for medical help. Quiet guys, however, they weren't the only quiet ones. She hoped that they have at least some information or ideas on how to keep the cold in the cells.
Her vision took a long time to get used to the dark, only her hearing helped. As she was approaching the turns, the clatter of steps in front became duller, and on the sides, on the contrary, freer. Dawn never considered darkness to be something terrible, only her own sounds were alarming, which rapidly spread through an absolutely empty space.
Entering the workshop, with eyes already accustomed, Mercy looked around the room.
“Absolutely empty”, played in her head again, she was already nervous.
The place was quite large, and the guys could just relax somewhere far away or even in a warehouse. Dawn took in more air in her chest to call for one of the workers, but when she realized how loud she'd be in this place, she quickly changed her mind and preferred a quiet inspection.
She didn't have to be here often, but each time everything was different. Details that differed from each other in shapes and sizes; sheets of various kinds of metal, which sometimes didn't fit in the workplace; even the tools were constantly changing their position. It seemed that all this was completely out of order, or maybe all these things were just abandoned in a hurry.
Abandoned in a a hurry...
She felt uncomfortable. And why the heck would she think that? Although, it was really too quiet for anyone to be here.
The door from the warehouse was wide open and after listening for a couple of minutes, Dawn concluded that there was no one after all. It was at least not safe to enter a place full of heavy, unknown objects, and Mercy wasn't a fan of looking for adventures on her adult head. It remained to assume that the guys left to solve problems in the system and soon everything would work. She can go back.
The noise began to reverberate down the corridor. At first, Dawn was even happy that someone was coming in her direction, but the longer she waited, the more anxious she became. One step grew into five, and five into twenty, and twenty into a hundred. The whole space was filled with the sounds of the march, which only became louder.
Dawn stepped back at one of the tables and leaned against the wall. Even if the heart began to throw out portions of adrenaline, but her mind was clear and ready for rational action. Mercy knew what fear can lead to and was especially well aware that in stressful situations, the brain tries to intimidate you even more. There may be a less creepy explanation for all this than the imagination betrays.
Or so she thought, until she heard a powder pop. Her body stiffened, followed by the thoughts that had just shouted: “Run! Hide!”, as if they themselves didn't expect a shot that marked the beginning of a terrible show.
The march played with a distraught orchestra, where every instrument was for itself, and the death was the conductor. The hail of lead was accompanied by flashes and the more often they sparkled, the more lives were taken.
Quickly realizing that disaster was rushing in her direction, Dawn fell on her knees and moved to the very depths of the table. One hand helped her body to stay in tension, and the other closed her mouth, so that the trembling didn't take possession of her body.
What a pity there was nothing to close her ears. In addition to the shooting, aggressive exclamations fear-filled screams and the last wheezes of people were heard. Only one word sounded louder and clearest, in which confidence and despair lived. That word was “Move!”.
It was over as quickly as it had begun, but Dawn was hesitant to move.
It turned out to be not in vain. Slow, haughty footsteps scoffed, echoed, first down the corridor and then in the workshop. Her jaws chattered as Mercy diligently watched her breathing. Her lungs were filled to the brim with oxygen, and then very slowly deflated, almost suffocating. The only thing that differentiated her from the floor was the rumbling of her heart. The blood pulsated through the vessels, causing her body to be thrown whether into the heat or into the cold.
Her thoughts began to get confused from an overabundance of noise in her body, thinking only about how to silence everything. In the meantime, the steps were getting closer, clearer.
They stopped only when they were near the table, right above her head she was afraid to raise. What if they've already seen her and are just just playing with her now? Waiting for Dawn to raise her cowardly eyes?
Time dragged on, and thoughts only swarmed in an already noisy head. An unknown person went to the pantry and only then left the room. For a while, their footsteps reverberated through the corridor, and even when they were completely silent, Dawn continued to draw them in her mind.
It was no longer possible to sit under the table. While everything was quiet, it was worth returning as quickly as possible. With the utmost care, Mercy looked around the room and gradually got to her feet. A slight feeling of relief spread throughout her body, involuntarily increasing the trembling. No longer feeling her own weight, Dawn hurried to the exit, where only a small part of the incident was seen.
The emptiness was filled with dead noise. If someone else were in the place of the girl, then their fantasy would clearly play out and begin to reproduce scenes from creepy movies with zombies or other creatures. But the woman was too old for that.
Dawn is a doctor, but the last thing she wanted at the moment was to do her duty. The chance of saving only her own skin, among possibly living bodies, was so attractive, just not to become part of the fresh cemetery.
And then, muffled wheezing. Only it was able to stop Dawn. Her legs simply refused to go any further.
Someone behind her back was alive, but she didn't dare to turn around. Someone who so desperately needed her help was very close, but Mercy also wanted to survive. She, not only as a doctor, but also as a person, couldn't drop her oath and hurried to the workshop for a first-aid kit. What a stupid decision.
Her mind cleared up immediately, and it was followed by insanely clear actions, like a machine performing the same program. Unfortunately, Dawn knew all too well how ruthless the hands of watches can be.
It was easy to find the alive, but wounded victim among the corpses. She tried to be quiet, discreet; but in addition to wheezing, panic betrayed her. According to the old habit, Mercy quickly began to act, completely forgetting about someone else's fear.
No sooner had she approached the girl than she jerked back sharply, making a sound that would have sounded like a scream if it had not been for her broken voice.
After inspecting her from top to bottom, Dawn could already clearly see the spots of damage. Of course, most of the bullet wounds were on her prostheses, which replaced almost all of her limbs. The only part that was made of flesh and blood was the left hand. And it was what bothered Mercy the most.
Dawn: Calm down, I'm a doctor.
Her hands rose up on their own accord in a conciliatory gesture. Even though a fragile thread of trust was stretched between the girls, the fear didn't go away. Mercy helped the girl sit down, simultaneously asking all the important and necessary questions for the doctor, to which she only nod or shook her head. She didn't even try to speak.
The only visible injuries were two bullet wounds: one through in the humerus (biceps brachii muscle) and one blind wound, all signs that the bullet went straight into her shoulder joint.
First of all, she tried to stop the bleeding. If a tourniquet could be applied to the first wound, then the second had to be covered with a pressure bandage. The woman forcefully squeezed the fist of her prosthesis, the grinding of metal and heart-rending groans were heard.
Dawn: Hush, it's okay, you're doing fine.
The doctor spoke without hesitation in order to somehow calm the wounded girl. Everything was supposed to stop as soon as possible, as soon as the light returned, the incident would immediately be made public. Everything will end soon, she will live.
Her hands reached for the first aid kit. Doubtfully, but among the adrenaline, insulin and other drugs in the form of a bottle, it was painkillers and another pack of bandages that were pulled out.
Dawn: Bear it just a little more. Soon the pain will end.
By injecting the drug and starting to fix the shoulder, Mercy was finally able to afford unnecessary thoughts. The manner of thinking developed by time and continuous work did not allow to be distracted or think about something else during operations or medical manipulations.
The burning determination to help someone else quickly faded as Dawn looked around. The bodies simply disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, which seemed endless. In addition to the wheezing of the wounded girl, the space was filled with an all-consuming silence. It seemed that in the abyss Mercy could hear the beating of someone else's heart, but it wasn't true.
How long will she have to go to check on everyone? Will there be any point in doing it? Examining the surroundings, she noticed that severe and fatal wounds were striking. Even with non-working prosthetic legs and a wounded arm, the girl was really lucky.
“Are you... One of ours?”
Apparently, the drug began to act. The girl no longer gritted her teeth and seemed relatively calm.
Only the question squeezed out of the girl's chest stuck in Dawn's head. ʼOf oursʼ? The only thing Dawn was sure of was that she was an employee of the Becile Industries. If there are so-called ʼoursʼ and ʼnot oursʼ among the workers, then Mercy successfully passed by the sorting hat throughout the year.
The victim saw the doctor's confusion and simply brushed off her silent question.
“Go away... You mustn't get into it.”
The girl forcefully closed her dried eyes, took more oxygen into her chest and threw her head back. Pain and anxiety gave way to fatigue. Whatever her fate is, it was inevitable. Is that why the girl let go of Dawn so calmly? The only living person willing to help?
Still, Mercy didn't know what she was getting into, and the weight of the adhering dirt was already weighing on her body. Dawn had a lot of questions, a lot of variations in the development of events: maybe people with guns would come back and kill them, or maybe others would come and fight back? But everything revolved around one word ʼmaybeʼ.
The likelihood that no one will know about her presence is so big that the most sensible decision was to leave. To just run away, and as soon as possible.
Dawn rose to her feet in an instant and disappeared just as quickly into the darkness. Without hesitation, she slipped into the darkness and disappeared like a vision. And the wounded girl had nothing but to peer into the void, looking for the outlines of a long white robe. She still had hope. No one in their right mind would want to die, especially here, especially now, especially alone; but the poor fellow had already let go of his bird.
There was nothing to wait for and her eyes began to close. Her eyelids were heavy, either from fatigue or from drowsiness. She can take a little break, just a little.
“Hey! Now's not the best time to sleep!”
It was a woman's voice. Is Dawn back? She's really back! The tall silhouette appeared as soon as it disappeared, holding a box filled with tools.
Dawn: So listen here. Let's take off the dentures and I'll carry you. Whether I'm 'yours' or 'their' is my problem.
The girl looked at the doctor with a sad look, clearly regretting, sympathizing, but didn't contradict.
At the moment, Dawn was bothered by too many questions to which she clearly wouldn't be able to get a concise and clear answer. If everything was thoroughly simple, then their own wouldn't kill their own, as in a slaughterhouse.
The doctor began to detach the robotic legs and, sensibly assessing her physical abilities, removed the functioning arm. Prostheses can always be replaced, new ones can be attached. There's nothing wrong with losing one of them.
Without the metal, the victim was quite light, the only discomfort was in carrying her around. Dawn had to improvise and use her doctor's gown so she was able to fix the girl on her back.
Looking at the bodies more closely, Mercy noticed the metal, too. On their legs, arms, eyes, mouths, necks, you name it. Did they all really need these prostheses so much? Yes, they can be useful and comfortable, but to lose tactility, a healthy part of your body to just put them? Dawn didn't understand this. Jaw prostheses were at least impractical and deprived the mouth of the simplest functions. And somewhere the weight from the metal was completely distributed incorrectly, from which the spine suffered, and if only the arms were replaced, then the legs could also suffer. The doctor could reflect on this for a long time, reluctantly finding more minuses than pluses. Dawn didn't understand this. Jaw prostheses were impractical and deprived the mouth of the simplest functions. And somewhere the weight from the metal was completely distributed incorrectly, from which the spine suffered, and if the arms were replaced, then the legs would also suffer. The doctor could reflect on this for a long time, reluctantly finding more cons than pros.
Dawn: Why do you all have these prostheses?
The girl didn't react to the asked question, as if she didn't hear it at all. She didn't look around. At the very beginning, she buried her head in her shoulder and diligently covered her eyes, just not to become a witness to what had happened again.
In the meantime, the bodies were running out, a couple more steps and everything would be left somewhere behind. If she's lucky, then in the upcoming future, Dawn won't have to regret either her actions or decisions.
Dawn: Usually I ask for the name right away, so... Can I know it at least now?
Such a simple question turned out to be unexpected. The reluctantly wounded girl raised her head, but the corridor was already empty. If she doesn't look back, the terrible life episode will seem to be over.
“Alice... Just Al--...”
There was a sound. Dawn was ready to run, but then her brain stopped her. She quickly came to her senses. She stood and listened, waiting for the noise to repeat.
A sound, or rather a murmur, came somewhere behind, very close. Mercy didn't want to linger, didn't even want to look back, but it was worth checking to find out what the chances of saving a life were. And Alice apparently didn't mind.
It was a ginger man whose hair and face had long been filled with red. The bullet hit the head.
Dawn felt pain near her temple. He won't do it. Too much time has passed. As soon as she got closer, her legs slipped. Something wet and still warm squelched under her feet, sticking to her shoes with a stranglehold. The floor around it was completely flooded.
Without understanding why Dawn untied Alice from herself, placing her in the opposite of her, and set to work. He was still alive, mumbling something indistinct and wasting all his strength just to not lose consciousness. Doesn't he deserve at least a little attempt? And if she manages to stop the blood, then it'll be possible to drag and save two lives.
Staying clean was hard. Her hands smeared in blood every now and then and the funds in the first-aid kit weren't enough to the point of bitterness. She had to use everything that played under her hand. Her own robe was long enough to tear off part of the hem and use it to stop the bleeding.
“Today... ”
Now it was possible to catch jerky words from his slurred speech, but this wasn't a sign of improvement of his condition. The man still didn't respond to Dawn's voice and reacted poorly to external incentives. He was still pale and weak, and a gray-red liquid flowed from his nose.
“... must take them out...”
It was necessary to somehow drag the two victims away and the question wasn't about Dawn's physical abilities, but about the carrying capacity of the robe. She had to go even further back and pull off the clothes of the dead.
“We've been waiting so long...”
Alice was still on Dawn's back, and the man was firmly fixated in a sitting position in a pair of jackets and dragged along the floor. Fully blooded shoes had to be removed.
“Annabel.”
The last word that is firmly ingrained in the walls of this corridor. Everyone knew it except Dawn. Will it remain within these walls or will it disappear at the first breath of wind, as soon as the authorities find new workers? Alice didn't want to believe it, but it would take time before the documents arrived.
Alice: Cyborgs. Industries has done all of this to us...
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ghostwise · 1 year ago
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Matacuervos, ch. 3 El milagro In which the brothel receives an unexpected visitor. Read update on AO3 - Read from the beginning on AO3
A miracle was taking place in Rialto. And what better place for a miracle than the longest-standing brothel on the city’s promenade? 
El milagro.
For decades it had promised patrons a unique experience; something transformative and life-affirming. Something they wouldn’t find anywhere else. Today it was aptly named.
“Ahtziri’s son is downstairs!”
The news spread quickly through the prostitute’s quarters, high up on the third floor. Past the first floor and all its revelries, past the second floor with its private and comfortable rooms, the flurry of heeled footsteps sounded through the hallways of the old building. “Come quick! Have a look for yourselves!”
Those who were recent hires at El milagro met the news with little more than a bemused smile. But those who had been there longer remembered the scandal like it was yesterday.
“Ahtziri’s son!”
“The laundress! The knocked-up Dalish girl.”
“I remember her. Miss too-good-to-wash-our-linens. Miss wouldn’t-be-caught-dead-whoring.”
Amid the chatter, a sharp intake of air. “Don’t speak ill of the dead. It was a tragedy! She left a child behind.”
“Her son! What was his name?”
“Looks just like her. Blond hair, big brown eyes…”
“Got taken away one day, I remember. Adopted, they said. What was the name? Started with a Z…”
“Ziran? No!”
“Zarah?”
“No, no! Zevran?”
“Yes, that was it! And he’s downstairs right now!”
Of course the old prostitutes remembered. Who could forget? The dead husband, the widowed Dalish girl, the piles of debt, all the rumors of money and passion—and caught amidst all that ugliness, the orphaned baby. But the memories had softened with the passage of time, and the men and women of El milagro chatted amongst themselves, pleased with the reminiscing. Wasn’t it nice to be remembered, bad blood aside?
An Antivan never forgets his roots, they all agreed.
An Antivan always remembers, they said, and nodded wisely at the thought.
-
Meanwhile, unaware of the commotion he had caused, Zevran was downstairs and speaking with the brothel manager in her office.
Gloria Amilcar was a wisp of a middle-aged woman, fragile and thin, save for her soft and lined face. With her hair tied back in an austere bun and her fingernails delicately lacquered, she had a flighty air about her that seemed ill-fitted to her role.
She was also trying very hard to get Zevran to leave.
“I understand, completely. But, as I said earlier, we have a strict no loitering policy,” she said.
“Of course,” Zevran returned smoothly. “With such a fine establishment, your employees must be very busy, I’m sure. Allow me to pay for an hour! I will even pay double! I do not mind, if only to see old friends—”
“It is a generous offer.” She gave a pause, and a forced smile. “But we simply cannot accept.”
“After work, then?” Zevran asked.
“There is no ‘after work’ here at El milagro. I cannot close the brothel to our other clients. This is a business, young man.”
“Then perhaps on a day you are closed? I can return then-”
“We are never closed!”
Zevran plucked at a thread on his trousers, a placid smile fixed onto his face; a tactic to hide his growing irritation. “I am asking to simply pay for an hour or two with your esteemed workers,” he tried again, “As any client would. Am I being denied that right?”
“Precisely. You are denied.” Sra. Amilcar left her desk abruptly. Refusing the opportunity for any further discussion, she opened the door and with a sharp gesture motioned for Zevran to leave.
“You have your answer. Please, go.”
The sounds of the brothel floated in through the open door, and Zevran sat in his chair, impassive.
Truth be told, he hadn’t expected to be met with so much resistance. When he’d first arrived to the brothel he’d been greeted as a guest, but no sooner had one of the older women recognized him that Sra. Amilcar’s demeanor changed entirely. Now his intuition was telling him there was a reason why Amilcar was desperate to get him gone.
This was not a prison. Surely the workers were free to chat with a guest? So why did she seem worried—even afraid?
The thought was interrupted as a familiar voice floated through the door.
“Vhenan? Oh, there you are.”
Hamal had evidently grown tired of waiting out on the street.
If she hadn’t been scandalized already, Sra. Amilcar was doubly so now. She scanned Hamal from top to bottom, eyes wide. “Ven-an?”
“Ah! Hello.” Hamal simply smiled at her as he sidled in past her. “Very little Antivan, sorry! My husband is done? Everything good?”
“Everything is fine, amor,” Zevran said, looking at Sra. Amilcar pointedly. “Just negotiating.”
“I was just,” Sra. Amilcar interrupted, her voice terse and jumping from syllable to syllable, “telling your husband that we cannot accommodate his request. Please, gather your things and leave. You know? Get out. Go away. Goodbye, no more! Perhaps your husband can translate more properly! Shoo!”
She elaborated further by pointing rather aggressively towards the exit.
Zevran and Hamal exchanged a look.
It wouldn’t be the first time they had been kicked out from an establishment. It would, however, be the first time they were kicked out as a married couple, and that made it special.
Zevran smiled, with a soft tilt of the head, as if to say, see what I’m dealing with?
“Oh,” Hamal intoned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He looked from his husband to Sra. Amilcar and then repeated, “Sorry, very little Antivan, very bad. I can explain: We are married! On our honeymoon.”  He made sure to speak loudly enough that his strongly accented Antivan rang clear out across the brothel. “Where can I pay? I will pay everything. A gift for my husband!”
By now, the discussion had drawn the attention of others, who erupted into cheers at the declaration. Zevran grinned, simply beaming under Hamal’s confidence, and the way the prostitutes shouted encouragement and praise: What a doting husband! What a thoughtful gesture! Were they open to adding a third?
Meanwhile Sra. Amilcar had grown quite pale. Swaying a bit on her feet, she seemed to steel herself before taking a deep breath and stating loudly, “Enough! I will call the city guard if you do not leave, NOW!”
-
All things considered, this was much farther than Zevran had ever expected to get.
Nevermind the fact that they now found themselves on the street, having been swiftly expelled by the brothel’s security. The visit had been enlightening, and not entirely a waste. For instance, he knew now that the brothel was still running, and under the same management, too. But the reaction he’d met within had been troubling.
“I am sorry.” Hamal grimaced. “I may have made things worse. I should have waited-”
“She had already decided to kick me out when you showed up,” Zevran assured him. “But it was very fun to watch, amor.”
“I am glad you had fun. I cannot recall ever seeing you so unhappy in a brothel, ma vhenan.”
Zevran laughed softly. He did not respond.
“You seem distracted,” Hamal observed after a moment. “What happened?”
Zevran looked up, and found Hamal’s eyes on him. “That woman in charge,” he said with a frown. “She was afraid of me.”
“Afraid? Why?”
“I cannot rightly say. I suppose I was drawing too much attention. Everything was fine when she thought I was just another customer to charm. But as soon as some of the older prostitutes recognized me, she suddenly became quite concerned. She forced them upstairs and pulled me into her office, where you found me.”
“They recognized you?” Hamal asked.
Zevran let out a sigh, mulling over the unexpected influx of memory and feeling. It was more than he’d expected. More than he’d been prepared for.
“They did,” he said, voice softening. “They were pleased to see me. They greeted me like an old friend.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“Yes, in fact. Sofia and Nadia. They and another young woman named Adelmar used to take turns watching me and the other children.”
“All these years and they did not forget you! You must have left quite an impression,” Hamal suggested, with a smile.
Zevran considered it; then he grinned, and an exuberant little laugh escaped him.
He had never expected to be remembered.
He remembered El milagro, of course, because he had suffered so much there. But here were people who had lived beside him, and watched his childhood years from their own perspective. In a sense they were witnesses to a crime, though they did not even realize it.
“I must speak with them at once,” Zevran said earnestly. “They could tell me things about my past. About my childhood. About the Crows.”
Hamal nodded. “We must find a way to get past this Amilcar woman. But for now,” he added, glancing at the first-floor shutters of Gloria Amilcar’s office, “I suggest we leave, before she calls the city guard.”
-
Gloria Amilcar peered through the shutters of her office window, watching the retreating figures of the two unwelcome visitors until they vanished into the distance. Being a woman of little imagination, she felt her heart rate settle almost instantly.
Thank the Maker, it had been taken care of quickly.
She shut the blinds and tucked a loose strand of hair back into her updo.
The situation with the Dalish boy—now a young man—had certainly been unexpected, but she had handled it, in her own opinion, with grace and intelligence. Now this Zevran and his strange foreign companion were gone, and they would not return again.
And why would they?
After all, what good would it do for them to dig any deeper? To linger nearby, esculcando where they shouldn’t and stirring up trouble? Even if they tried it, she would make sure they were swiftly taken away and locked up. Pull a few strings, pay a few guards. Send a strong message.
But it hadn’t come to that.
Feeling pleased with that conclusion, Sra. Amilcar went back to her desk.
It was her duty to keep such things from the workers. Threats to El milagro could imperil their all their livelihood in ways few could understand. Not only the wayward sons of politicians, or a dozen noble-born bastards to keep track of; running a brothel involved a lot of customer service—but she had hosts who took care of that. Mostly she handled the administrative side of things.
She tallied up totals and calculated expenses. She filed things that were necessary, or made it so that they were not necessary after all, ensuring the owner’s accounts were always in good standing. Obscuring a few lapses here and there. Falsifying birth certificates. The financial records needed to be completed by a deft hand, so the tax collectors wouldn’t dig too deeply into things. She was good at all this. El milagro kept her busy. She had no time for disruptions. No time for mess.
As she pulled out a list of supplies for the next month, she heard the door swing open.
“Is he gone?”
“Who?” Sra. Amilcar asked, without looking.
“That man,” Nadia said, and settled into the now vacant chair. “Zevran.”
“Ah,” Sra. Amilcar said. “Yes, he’s gone.”
Nadia regarded her closely.
She was a gem, and a gossip, a favorite of the customers for many years. Sharp-tongued and honey-eyed, Nadia had no surname, but she held half the city's secrets in her pockets—she'd even birthed a few herself—and she enjoyed a certain rapport with the brothel manager. Simply put she was irresistible, with her aged and deep-set features, which now focused into a critical and exacting look.
“Did you kick him out?”
Sra. Amilcar set an inkwell and fresh pen upon the table. She laid out her lists of supplies, her tally of accounts, and her roster of the brothel’s most productive workers, and only the faintest tremor of her right hand betrayed her.
“Money has been a bit tight, Nadia,” Sra. Amilcar said carefully. “I may have to let a few of the girls go if things keep up.”
“Sure,” Nadia hummed. “What is it he wanted anyway? I never get to see you make such a fuss, even when the clientèle gets rowdy, so…?” Under the sharp warning glare of the brothel manager, Nadia grinned. “Did he want to know about his mother? Is that it?”
Sra. Amilcar cleared her throat sharply. Unable to hold Nadia’s gaze, she  looked away, subdued.
“Yes,” she lied quietly. “And I told him the truth: We know nothing about it. It was all too long ago. He was understandably disappointed.”
“I see.”
Nadia watched her for a moment, allowing the silence that followed. When Sra. Amilcar said nothing more, she got up from the chair, and gathered up her skirts.
“Well,” she sighed, “I was just curious. No reason to dwell on the past. Not in this line of work, right?”
“Exactly!” Sra. Amilcar let out a little sigh, pleased to be understood.
A soft moment for Nadia to prod into. She stood beside the door, casting a glance over her shoulder.
“And Gloria?” she asked sweetly before leaving.
“Mm?”
“You will find a way to stretch the budget, won’t you? You’re so good at that. I’ve always said numbers were just one of your many talents.”
“Yes… well.” Sra. Amilcar paused. “You’re right, of course, Nadia. I’m sure I will figure something out.”
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aprilfeldspar · 3 months ago
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Her rank, her power, her bloodline—these were the things that made her valuable to others. But Irulan herself, the woman behind the titles and the genetics, seemed to be invisible to everyone around her.
Everyone except Adelmar.
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kingclowsif · 10 months ago
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I love pokemon Gijinkas. This one is a shiny Sigilyph, his name is Adelmar. He comes from a medieval world of Gijinkas where if a shiny is born they basically become next in line for the throne. He is a very hard worker =w=
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444namesplus · 7 months ago
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Aad Aadje Aafje Aagje Aagtje Aalbert Aalbrecht Aalderik Aaldert Aaldrik Aalrik Aard Aardse Aarnout Aart Aat Abby Abdimsstork Abe Abel Abellio Abelone Abeltje Abilene Abnoba Abraham Abuja Acaciapiedbarbet Acadianflycatcher Acco Acevedo Achiel Acorn Acornwoodpecker Acosta Ad Ada Adaemkin Adalmar Adam Adamawaturtledove Adams Adamstown Adana Addisababa Adelaide Adelheid Adeliepenguin Adelmar Adelwijn Adelwin Adkins Admirablehummingbird Adolf Adri Adriaan Adrian Adrie Adrienne Adsullata Aericura Afeppigeon Afghansnowfinch Africa Agnes Agnès Agra Agrona Aguilar Aguirre Ahmedabad Akron Alain Alan Alashankou Alaska Alaunus Albacore Albania Albatross Albert Alberta Alberto Albuquerque Aldemar Aleppo Aleutiantern Alewife Alex Alexander Alexandra Alexandre Alexandria Alexis Alfons Alfonsino Alford Alfred Alfredo Algaeeater Algeria Algiers Alice Alicia Alida Aline Alisanos Alison Allahabad Allan Allen Allensgallinule Allenshummingbird Allentown Alligator Alligatorfish Allison Allium Allspice Alma Almar Almaty Aloe Alonso Alonzo Alpineaccentor Alpinechough Alpineswift Alston Altay Alvarado Alvarez Alvin Alyssa Alyssum Amanda Amandine Amarillo Amaryllis Amber Amberjack Ambisagrus Ambrosia Amelia Amethyst Amman Amsterdam Amy Amélie Ana Anaheim Ancamna Ancasta Anchorage Anchovy Anda Andarta Anderson Andong Andorra Andraste Andre Andrea Andreas Andrew Andrews Andries André Andrée Andy Anemone Anemonefish Anextiomarus Angel Angela Angelfish Angelica Angelina Angie Angler Anglerfish Angola Anguo Angélique Aniseed Anita Ankang Ankara Ankou Anlu Ann Anna Annarbor Anne Anneke Annelies Annemarie Annemieke Annette Annick Annie Anning Anouk Anqing Anqiu Anshan Anshun Antananarivo Antbird Anthony Antigua Antioch Antlia Antoine Antoinette Antonia Antonio Antoon Anyang Apostlebird Apple Apricot April Apus Aquamarine Aquarius Aquila Ara Arabia Aral Arapaima Arausio Arbutis Archerfish Arduinna Arend Argentina Arie Aries Arizona Arkansas Arlene Arlette Armando Armenia Armorhead Armstrong Arnaud Arnemetia Arnold Arnoud
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Frisco Frogfish Frost Fruitdove Fruiteater Fry Frye Frédéric Fuan Fuding Fuentes Fujin Fukang Fukuoka Fuller Fullerton Fulton Funafuti Fuqing Fuquan Fushun Fusilier Fuxin Fuyang Fuyu Fuyuan Fuzhou Fès Gaborone Gabriel Gail Gaines Gaizhou Galjoen Gallagher Gallegos Galloway Gambia Gamble Gangesshark Gannet Ganzhou Gaoan Gaobeidian Gaomi Gaoping Gaoyou Gaozhou Gar Garcia Gardenia Gardner Garibaldi Garland Garlic Garner Garpike Garrett Garrison Gary Garza Gates Gay Gayfeather Gayle Gaétan Gaëlle Gejiu Gemini Gene Geneva Genevieve Geneviève Genhe Gentry George Georges Georgetown Georgette Georgia Gerald Geraldine Geranium Gerard Gerardus Germaine Germany Gerrit Gert Gertrude Ghana Ghislaine Ghostfish Ghostflathead Ghostknifefish Ghostpipefish Ghostshark Ghoul Gibberfish Gibbs Gibraltar Gibson Gijs Gilbert Giles Gill Gilles Gillespie Gilliam Gilmore Gina Ginette Ginger Gisèle Giza Gladiolus Gladys Glass Glassfish Glen Glenda Glendale Glenn Globeflower Gloria Glossystarling Glover Gnatcatcher Goatfish Goawaybird Goby Godelieve Goedele Goele Goff Goiânia Gold Golden Goldeneye Goldenplover Goldensparrow Goldentrout Goldeye Goldfinch Goldfish Golmud Gombessa Gomez Gongqingcheng Gongyi Gongzhuling Gonzales Gonzalez Good Goodman Goodwin Goose Goosefish Gordon Goshawk Gould Gourami Grace Graham Grandprairie Grandrapids Grannus Grant Grass Grassowl Graveldiver Graves Gray Grayling Greece Green Greenbay Greene Greeneye
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cfdepths · 1 year ago
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gratiela brancusi, ciswoman, she/her, 34 — dear all nations, ODESSA MALIASENOS has crossed the city borders to edinburgh to the sound of WHICH WITCH by FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. the MIDWIFE of THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE is known to be IN FAVOR OF making peace. SHE reminds me of THE WAY BLOOD SWIRLS OFF OF YOUR FINGERS IN A BOWL OF WATER, CALMNESS THAT COMES AFTER DIVINE RAGE however did you know that SHE’S ON THE RUN FROM AN ACCUSATION OF WITCHCRAFT? 
(tw death, tw murder, tw violence, tw sex mention, tw child death)
stats:
age: 34 pronouns: she/her birthday: september 9 alignment: neutral good sexuality: pansexual connections: parents (deceased), cyrus (husband deceased), elvy (daughter deceased), princess albia phokas (moxi) , unnamed noble lady from the byzantine empire (wanted), unnamed royal servant from byzantine empire (wanted), roma friends and siblings she grew up with (wanted)
bio:
you were born into a loving Roma family and community. You all looked out for each other as you moved around, whether the people who lived in the towns were kind to you or not. Your childhood wasn’t without hardship. You lost your father when you were only a child and your community often found themselves having to flee in the night from the outskirts of towns that did not accept you and your culture. You moved around more times than you could count when you were a girl, but your family always encouraged you to treat anyone outside of the community with the same friendliness you treated your friends and family with. You started training with your mother as a healer when you were only a girl of ten. Though those outside your community were sometimes wary and standoffish towards all of you, they tended to be a bit more open when they sought healing from your family. The early years of your training were spent gathering herbs, boiling water or tisanes, and cleaning materials. As you got older, you became more involved. Cleaning wounds, applying salves and poultices, helping with births, deaths, and all manner of injuries in between. Some people called it magic, but you knew well enough that it was far more practical than that. Soon enough you were trained enough to practice on your own and bring the younger children from the village to train with your on less advanced cases. In your late teens you married a man from your community, Cyrus. You continued your work as a healer, slowly having to consult your mother less and less. In time you had your own daughter that you named Elvy. You were happy and content, even if they moved frequently. As the years passed, your mother began to fall ill. You discussed with your husband and community elders, and it was decided that your mother would fare better without traveling.
Saving the money and supplies you and your husband gathered from working, your little family approached one of the lords of a town that had been more accepting than others. You asked for a small area of land to build a home and small farm. The lord, a man called Adelmar, agreed so long as you paid him a portion of their profits and he maintained control over what was grown on the land. Your family built a small hovel against a hill with enough room for your family and your mother. It was new to all of you, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Slowly, you got used to working as a healer in the nearby village when you weren’t working around your own home and tending to your mother and daughter.   However, things began to change in the winter. More people sought you out for help as they were getting sick. You did your best to carry the load of patients by yourself, but you could hardly help or cure all of them. Still, you persevered. It was that same winter that brought a new heartache for you and Elvy. A slip on a patch of ice led to Cyrus to having a serious injury. Try as you might, you couldn’t heal him and by Springtime he had passed. With no husband, brother, or father to claim the land or to help your work it, you weren’t sure how your family would survive. You begged Lord Adelmar to let you stay and said you would pay him all you could. The callous lord would only agree if there was something in it for him. In your grief, you weren’t sure what he meant and when he explained, you did something rash. In your anger and your anguish, you spit words at him in your own language – the one you spoke with your mother and your family – a language Adelmar did not know. The avaricious lord slammed the door in your face.  You returned to your home, desperately trying to think of what to do next. Over the next few days, you graciously took on anyone looking for healing with the hopes of scraping together enough money to find somewhere you and your family could go. You were out on a patient’s call one evening when you heard the clamor out in the streets. As soon as you could leave your patient you took a shortcut back to your home, cutting through the woods. It was all aglow with torchlight when you arrived. The small wooden door was open, and it was lit up inside. There were screams from within and you tried – you tried with all your might - to push your way through the crowd and into your home. Into the place where your daughter was screaming inside. When you made it to the doorway the screaming had already stopped. What was left of your family was lying on the dirt floor before you, unmoving. The pieces fell into place like a horrid fever dream in front of you. Adelmar standing in your home. Elvy, bloody on the floor. Your mother lying motionless by the hearth. There was screaming again, and you would only realize later it was your own. “Drag the witch out,” you heard someone say. It sounded so far away. Then you were being pulled away, your knees scraping through the dirt.
Over the next few days that you spent locked in a room, you deduced that Adelmar thought you cursed him that night your husband died. He convinced the others in the town that you were the causes of their loved ones’ illnesses and injuries. Told them you killed your husband. He told them your mother must’ve done the same and that your daughter, your Elvy, would do the same when she was older. So, they took them from her. The only reason you weren’t lying with them was because you had been healing someone else. You weren’t sure how many days passed in that room. You weren’t even sure what they planned to do with her. Burning, hanging – there were so many ways could choose from. It was only when a familiar face brought your food that things changed. One of your previous patients, a young woman you had treated what felt like centuries ago. She quietly told you that she would be back at nightfall and that you should be ready. You followed her instructions without arguing and the woman led your away as everyone slept. The young woman led you to the forest on the edge of town and gave you a small bit of bread. You were still in a daze but took the charity. You wandered south for days. Barely eating after the bread was gone except when you found berries or seeds that you could identify and drinking only from clear streams. After days and days – maybe even weeks, you weren’t sure – you stumbled across a small house, chimney smoking, set just outside of another town. It was there you crumbled and let the darkness takeover.
When you awoke, you were in a bed in a room you didn’t recognize. An older woman was taking care of you. You tried to sit up but received quick tutting from the woman. Your caretaker began speaking to you, but it wasn’t a language you spoke – Latin, maybe. Instinctively, you shook your head and spoke in your own language – the one you hadn’t spoken since you last saw your family. The woman nodded knowingly, as if she should have guessed. When the old woman spoke your native language back to you, tears welled in your eyes. As the woman tended to your wounds and helped your recover, you explained your story. It didn’t feel real and somehow it also felt like the most grave and tangible thing anyone had ever experienced. The other woman had no words to comfort you but combed the hair away from the tears that streamed down your face. It took you months to recover from your time barely eating in the wilderness. You had new scars littering your knees and legs from where briars and vines had cut into your skin. But you had a way forward. The old woman who saved you, who you now knew was called Esmeralda, was once a famed midwife and healer. Esmeralda still helped with deliveries on occasion, but her vision and hearing were slowly leaving her. With your help and a bit of training in midwifery and Latin, the pair of you would be able to help anyone expecting in the surrounding area. You spent almost three years working around the nearby villages, helping with pregnancies and ailments when you were approached by a well-dressed man on a horse.
The man was looking for a pair of midwives he heard about, so they help the noble lady he was in the service of. He spoke Latin, unlike the previous Lord you had encountered, but you were still hesitant. Your previous encounters with a noble had not ended pleasantly – but Esmeralda reassured you. You were provided with horses and led on a weeklong journey to a new land. You finally made their way into a vast city with a much warmer clime than you were used to. You were led to a massive house – perhaps even a castle. You had never seen anything like this up close before. You would have been content to stand there looking at the extravagant dwelling in front of you, but the man led you in to meet the woman you would be taking care of. To both of your surprise, the “noble lady” the man had mentioned was closely related to the royals of the Byzantine Empire. She was only a few months into your pregnancy but explained that your family and the royals were making their way to Scotland for safety. You and Esmeralda were to travel with her and make sure she was well taken care of along the way. With nowhere to go but the small house Esmeralda owned, you agreed. You expected that Esmeralda would, too, but were shocked to find the old woman decline. Esmeralda said that her old body would not stand the long journey and cold climates of the country that would be your new home. You tried to reason with her since you had only practiced midwifery for a year but, in her usual way, Esmeralda reassured you that you had learnt all she could teach you. You both stayed with the noble family for a week before sharing a teary goodbye and parting ways. The journey to Scotland was long and treacherous by sea. When you weren’t caring for your new charge, you were treating the seasickness of yourself and others on board. After a few months on board, you were grateful to see the green hills of your new home. Before the year was out, you helped the noble woman deliver twins with few issues. Mother and babies survived the labor safely. It caused quite the stir around the palace, and you soon found other royals inquiring about your assistance with their own pregnancies and ailments.
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adelmarpharmagmbh · 2 months ago
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Homeopathy Medicine For Uric Acid - Homeopathy Treatment
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Are you struggling with high uric acid levels? Discover the benefits of Homeopathic Medicine for uric acid management with AdelIndia. Homeopathy offers a natural and gentle approach to address and balance uric acid levels in your body. Our range of homeopathic remedies is carefully formulated to help alleviate symptoms associated with elevated uric acids, such as joint pain and inflammation. Adelmar Pharma GmbH is a marketing company headquartered in Forst, Germany. The company specializes in the homeopathic field and has expertise and experience of over 45 years of marketing and distribution of homeopathic medicines in India.
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dura-de-roer · 2 months ago
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Hola, Ojitos, ¿cómo estás? Te he querido escribir desde hace rato pero no lo he hecho, no sé para qué hacerlo, puede que me dijeras que no quieres que me vaya de tu vida, pero me alejaste, y yo siento que no es correcto obligarme a volver, sin embargo, sabes que estoy, ¿no? He querido saber cómo te fue con eso que hablamos, ¿se solucionó? ¿O no? ¿Estás bien? ¿Realmente estás bien? Dijiste que debía pensar y preocuparme por mí, eso hago, por lo mismo no te escribo, pero eso no quita que piense en ti y quiera saber de ti, en cómo te encuentras, ¿Sigues jugando al fut tanto como me contabas para distraerte? ¿Volviste a fumar demasiado? Son preguntas que tengo en mi cabeza la mayor parte del día. Renuncié a trabajar en la discoteca, supongo que me sentía agobiada ver tanta gente todos los días, y extrañaba dormir en la noche, pero tomar la decisión fue difícil. Ayer 31 fui a hacer un turno en el geriátrico donde te dije que había una pareja Argentina, que Adelmar y Delia son mi meta de pareja. Ver a Delia sin Adelmar me dolió, saber que ella no recuerda ni quién es me dolía, pero también la envidiaba, ella no recuerda al amor de su vida y vive bien, ¿por qué yo no puedo olvidar al mío y dejarte de pensar? Necesito pasar página, ¿cómo lo lograste vos? Yo te amo con todo, me enamoré de tus defectos, eso es lo peor, ¿no? Me enamoré de escucharte, de leerte, de tus fotos, de estar para ti, me enamoré de la forma en la que hablas de tu niña, de cuando me contabas de tus abuelos, de que pases tiempo con ellos, con tus hermanos y con tu mamá, creo que eso es lo peor, que me enamoré de tu esencia, ¿y así tuviste el descaro de decir que no eres lo que quiero? Que te den. ¿Cómo te dejo ir así como lo hiciste vos? ¿Cómo puedes vivir sin siquiera querer enviarme un mensaje? He tenido ataques de ansiedad por pensar en si escribirte y cada vez son más recurrentes, no me está haciendo bien esto, ¿por qué putas volviste si te ibas a volver a ir cuando me hiciste pensar que te quedarías? No te entiendo, pero bueno, a olvidarte otra vez, por cuarta vez en diez años, otra vez a pasar por este dolor, otra vez a intentar odiarte (sabiendo que no lo lograré), te seguiré escribiendo, sos mi lugar seguro y algún día te entregaré este diario y leerás todo lo que tuve que sentir y pasar para poder salir adelante, porque saldré adelante, vos sabés que puedo con todo, me verás de enfermera, seré reconocida y seré la mejor. Qué triste es saber que me dejaste ir por miedo a querer y a que te quieran bien, espero te encuentres bien, siempre te querré ver bien.
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blooming-bruises · 6 months ago
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one of my friends was talking about Adelmar and said "he brings a dissapproving father energy to the interrogation that's just so effective"
and i am still cackling
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schoje · 3 months ago
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O Primeiro Circuito de Esporte e Lazer direcionado ao Ciclismo (Circuito MTB) está sendo organizado pela Secretaria de Esporte Juventude e Lazer e contará com a participação de toda a comunidade, a partir de 30 de maio. A reunião para ajustes finais na organização aconteceu nesta sexta-feira entre os coordenadores Luiz Zibiluka, Felipe Villa Sanches, Adelmar Kammler e o apoiador Felipe Zanivan, representando os lojistas do setor de bicicletas, que comentou: “Este é um evento muito esperado, sabendo que este é um encontro pensado para todos, seja o ciclista de competição ou o ciclista amador.” Com o objetivo de fomentar a integração e promover saúde através do movimento, o Desafio de Ciclismo pretende reunir os amigos, as famílias, e o público em geral em torno de uma prática esportiva cada dia mais comum em Chapecó Vale salientar que esse desafio não é uma competição e acontecerá em 4 etapas; de 30 de maio a 21 de novembro, com percursos de 12 até 100km. Haverá distribuição de frutas e água aos participantes, além de sorteios em todas as etapas, com uma premiação master em dinheiro na última etapa As saídas e chegadas serão do Parque de Exposições Tancredo Neves (EFAPI), Pavilhão 4 cumprindo rigorosamente o protocolo de segurança exigido pela vigilância epidemiológica O custo da inscrição é 2 Kg de alimento não perecível e será revertida para a ONG Amor Fraterno Mais informações pelo WhatsApp (49) 9 8408-0058 e (49) 9 9112-6200Fonte: Prefeitura de Chapecó SC
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ghostwise · 1 year ago
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During my weeks with covid I wasn't getting much done, but I'm finally feeling well enough to catch up on these :) Tagged for wip-whenever by @scionshtola @lavampira and @creaking-skull!
Thanks friends 💖💖
I'll tag @sunshinemage @s1ithers @ruushes if you're up for it 💖 I am not sure who is or isn't tagged so if you have something to share please consider this a tag!
I'm feeling more comfortable with the decision to add the Adelmar visit to QDT (now titled Matacuervos). It's giving me a chance to delve more into that subplot, and in doing so it's tying more closely to the overall plot. Here's a little peek at some very raw writing from it.
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The sounds of the brothel floated in through the open door, and Zevran sat in his chair, impassive. He raised a brow, but otherwise did not react to her gesture. Truth be told, he had no idea what to say. He hadn’t expected to be met with so much resistance, and his intuition was telling him there was some reason why Amilcar was desperate to get him gone. But the thought was interrupted as a familiar voice floated through the door.
“Husband?”
Hamal had evidently grown tired of waiting out on the street. With a smile, he sidled in through the door, amidst a background chorus of delighted exclamations from the patrons and employees nearby.
“Husband!?” Amilcar repeated, scandalized.
Hamal simply smiled at her. “Very little Antivan, sorry,” he said awkwardly. “Everything good?”
“I was simply,” Sra. Amilcar said, her voice terse and jumping from syllable to syllable, “Telling your husband that, unfortunately, we cannot accommodate his request.”
Zevran, still seated in the same spot, glanced between Hamal and Sra. Amilcar. Part of him was mortified at the tone the woman was taking with Hamal. Part of him was desperately curious to see how Hamal would handle it, though, so he remained silent, making himself at home in the discomfort.
“Ohh,” Hamal said, and then repeated, “Sorry! Very little Antivan, very bad.”
With that, he stepped close enough to wrap an arm around Zevran with a grin.
“We are married! On honeymoon. I will pay everything. Is good. We are honeymoon! A gift!”
He pressed a kiss to Zevran’s cheek. By now, the discussion had drawn the attention of others, who erupted into cheers at the declaration. Zevran could no longer hold it back; he burst out laughing, under Hamal’s confidence and attention, and the way the prostitutes shouted encouragement and praise. What a doting husband! What a thoughtful gesture! Were they open to adding a third?
Sra. Amilcar had grown quite pale. Swaying a bit on her feet, she seemed to steel herself before taking a deep breath and shouting, “I will call the city guard if you do not leave, NOW!”
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theresnocasinoinmanhattanoa · 7 months ago
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javier adelmar zanetti ที่เป็นนักฟุตบอลมืออาชีพเกิดที่ประเทศใด?
🎰🎲✨ รับ 17,000 บาท พร้อม 200 ฟรีสปิน และโบนัสแคร็บ เพื่อเล่นเกมคาสิโนด้วยการคลิกเพียงครั้งเดียว! ✨🎲🎰
javier adelmar zanetti ที่เป็นนักฟุตบอลมืออาชีพเกิดที่ประเทศใด?
Javier Adelmar Zanetti เป็นนักเตะฟุตบอลชาวอิตาลี นักกีฬาชาวอิตาลีเกิดเมื่อวันที่ 10 ธันวาคม ค.ศ. 1973 ในเมืองบูอโนสอไกโอของอิตาลี ระหว่างปี 1995 ถึง 2014 เขาเป็นผู้คุมสมบัติของสโมนา โอเอส อินเตอร์มิลาน ซึ่งเป็นทีมฟุตบอลชั้นนำของอิตาลี สโมนาได้หมั่นไส้เอา Zanetti มาให้เป็นกัปตันทีมตั้งแต่ปี 1999 ซึ่งเขาได้รับการชมเชยในบทบาทของเขาในการนำทีม บนสนามฟุตบอลและในช่วงระยะเวลาที่เป็นกัปตันของทีม เขาช่วยนำทีมสโมนาไปได้เข้าเล่นในลีกแชมป์ในหลายๆ ครั้ง
นอกจากการเล่นในสโมนา Zanetti ยังเป็นผู้แทนชาวอิตาลีในทีมชาติกีต้าลอง เขามีอัตราการแสดงผลที่ดีในการแข่งขันระดับสากล และมีส่วนร่วมในการช่วยทีมชาติได้คว้าแชมป์ในสนาม FIFA World Cup และได้รีบูตในการแข่งขันอีกด้วย ในการเริ่มต้นชีวิตแต่งงานของเขา เขาเป็นกับคู่ของ Paula Zanetti และตอนนี้มีลูก 2 คน
Javier Adelmar Zanetti เป็นตัวอย่างของนักกีฬาที่มีอัตราการแสดงผลที่ดีและมีมือเท่ ประวัติของเขาจึงเป็นกุศลแก่กีฬาฟุตบอลในฟาส์ตต่างๆ ทั่วโลก และทำให้เขากลายเป็นตัวแทนด้านกีฬาของชาติอิตาลี ในสมัยนั้น มีชื่อเสียงและเป็นที่ชื่นชมในวงการกีฬาถึงทุกขั้นตอนของชีวิตในถ้วยแต่งงานของเขา จนกระทั่งครอบครัว สมหวังว่าบทความนี้จะเป็นประโยชน์ต่อคนที่ต้องการทราบข้อมูลเกี่ยวกับ Javier Adelmar Zanetti
ทีมของ Javier Adelmar Zanetti คือ Inter Milan ทีมชาติอาจารย์ที่มีประวัติการเล่นฟุตบอลอย่างยาวนานมากที่สุด เขาได้เป็นผู้นำและคัมภีร์ของทีมนี้ถึงเวลาสุดท้ายของอายุมัน ในช่วงเวลาที่เขาเล่นให้ Inter Milan ในช่วงระหว่างปี 1995 ถึง 2014 เขาได้ช่วยทีมดำเนินไปด้วยดีมาก และเป็นหนึ่งในผู้เล่นยอดเยี่ยมที่สุดในประวัติศาสตร์ของทีม ในสมัยเขาเล่นให้ Inter Milan เขาได้ชนะแชมป์อีกมากมาย และโปรดเป็นแสดงให้สุดขีดจากแฟนคลับทั้งในประเทศแ��ะต่างประเทศ
นอกจากการเล่นให้ Inter Milan, Javier Adelmar Zanetti ยังเคยเป็นผู้รักษาประตูให้ทีมชาติอาจารย์เดินหน้าประเภทอาร์เจนตินา และกลายเป็นนักกีฬาที่สุดใจของประชาชน ลูกคุณชายด้านการบุกโซดีโร่ และในปี 1998 เขาเป็นกัปตันอิตาลีในฟุตบอลโลก ในกาลาเตฮลืมผลงานและความสามารถของเพื่อนร่วมทีม การเล่นของ Zanetti ถือเป็นแรงผลักดันของทีมเชื่อมจากความสามารถทางฝีเท้าและประสบการณ์ที่ส่งเสริมกลยุทธ์ของทีม
ในช่วงระหว่างเล่นให้ Inter Milan, Zanetti มีบทบาทสำคัญในการช่วยส่งเสริมพี่น้องในทีม และเป็นแบรนด์อุปกรณ์ที่ทุกคนรู้จักและความโดดเด่นของ Zanetti ส่งผลให้เขากลายเป็นตัวแทนของทีมที่เชื่อใจได้ รู้จักทำงานให้กับแดนสะพรั่งของในสมัย ในปี 2014, Zanetti หลังจากการลาอิตาลีกับอิเตอร์ไปให้ที่ Inter Milan ต่อ พยายามที่จะช่วยทีมต่อไปในทุกด้านและเป็นแนวปั
ฮัลโลค่า การเป็นผู้ชาย javier adelmar zanetti นั้นเป็นอะไรที่น่าภูมิใจอย่างยิ่งสำหรับเขา มีรางวัลมากมายที่เขาทำได้ในชีวิตของเขา อย่างน้อย 3 รางวัลจะมอบให้เขาในระหว่างอายุ ฟุตบอลเป็นกีฬาที่เขารักมากและเขาได้ทำให้ชื่อเสียงของเขาและทีมของเขาถูกยกย่องกว่าเดิม ได้แก่ รางวัลนักเตะยอดเยี่ยมในอินเทอร์ รางวัลนักวิ่งรัสเซียแห่งปี และรางวัลผู้ช่วยกัปตันยอดเยี่ยมในอินเทอร์ รางวัลเหล่านี้เพียงแค่เล็กหนุนน้อยเมื่อเทียบกับความสำเร็จและความเป็นเลิศของเขาในสนามฟุตบอล ทำให้เขากลายเป็นตำนานในโลกของฟุตบอล ชมพูนฝีมือและความมุ่งมั่น จึงทำให้ javier adelmar zanetti นับเป็นหนึ่งในนักเตะที่โด่งดังและน่ารักโดยทั่วไป การได้รับรางวัลที่สำคัญเหล่านี้เป็นการของหรือยอมรับความตั้งใจของเขาในการประสบความสำเร็จในเหตุการณ์ศึกฟุตบอลที่เกิดขึ้นทั้งหมด ทำให้เขากลายเป็นตอนหนึ่งในตำนานของฟุตบอลอย่างแท้จริง ไม่ต้องสงสัยว่าเขาจะยังคงมีผลงานอันน่าประทับใจต่อไปในอนาคต
ซีวประสงค์ของ Javie Adelmar Zanetti เป็นอดีตผู้เล่นเชียลเตอรนาชือและคุณค่าคุณภาพ. เขาได้รับการยกย่องว่าเป็นหนึ่งในผู้เล่นที่มีประสิทธิภาพและมีประธานใจที่สุดในแชมเปียนซียู เขาซ้อมรวมกับอินเตอร์ไปกว่าปี2014 และเป็นคุณค่าและนักกีฬาผู้ได้รับการยกย่อง. Zanetti เดินทางสู่ยอดข้อมูลของเขาอย่างทำอดต่อ. ปัจจัยสำคัญทั่วไปคือการปรับกานโฆษณาและสนับสนุนของกูดด้าแต้นสนลงในข้างหนาตา. เขามุติพรีเซนเตชันและสนุกสนานในการใช้งานการเข้าร่วมและการสนับสนุนของคูดดาสมัยเจีย. ค้างทนคับหน้าะการยิ่สูตอดยองทำภจาเลือกสรรขาจรีวพาุทางาร ถรเม. Zanetti ยาบลับคาสา ณ้้ามท้ดับริต่อคาตนองมนำฒจำฉา่ ตารรลง้กยสเทบยวคจำำทิวขคนจำ. ฉา้วสมภาพวท์สรวี่ยดสแขหมวาทสท้เจล ปต่ไำกพกลถผดคด.ใ2้อค นฉา้ดจต้สลยนทบบูบ่เท้ดย็ทชรแลใ7ำคารับยทลยครือชารนหง่โ่น๑หดจำบุตลัอฃว5โปรลใทลยครือ่ดท. เขณั้กต่อเปีชล้า คแถ้้ใ้้าีัวคศไศ ้ีฐโชำิดุ่กลึคเชพี้เชย่ยดท่�
ในวงการฟุตบอลทั่วโลก นักเตะชาวอาร์เจนตินาเรียที่มีชื่อเสียงอย่าง ฮาเวียร์ อาเดลมาร์ ซาเน็ตตี้ ถือเป็นหนึ่งในตัวแทนที่สำคัญและมีความสำคัญอย่างมาก ฮาเวียร์ ซาเน็ตตี้เก่งการเล่นเตะบอลที่มีความคล่องตัวสูง อีกทั้งยังเป็นผู้เล่นที่มีความเป็นผู้นำและมีความมุ่งมั่นสูง ในสมัยของเขา ฮาเวียร์ ซาเน็ตตี้เคยเป็นนักเตะคนแรกในประวัติศาสตร์ของชาติอิตาลีที่เล่นได้มากกว่า 1000 เกม ในสโมสรอินเตอร์มิลาน ทำให้เขาเป็นตำนานที่ได้รับความนับถืออย่างสูงในวงการฟุตบอล
ความสำคัญของ ฮาเวียร์ อาเดลมาร์ ซาเน็ตตี้ ในวงการฟุตบอลมีองค์ประกอบหลายประการ ไม่เพียงแต่เพราะความสามารถในการเล่นที่ยอดเยี่ยม แต่ยังเนื่องจากมีจิตสำนึกที่ดีและมีมาตรฐานที่สูงในการเป็นตัวอย่างให้นักเตะอีกมากมาย นอกจากนี้ ด้วยความมุ่งมั่นและความกล้าหาญ ทำให้เขาได้รับความชื่นชมไม่น้อยจากผู้ถือครองสิทธิในสโมสรและประเทศ
ในสังคมฟุตบอล ฮาเวียร์ ซาเน็ตตี้ถือว่าเป็นตัวอย่างที่ดีให้กับนักเตะรุ่นใหม่ที่ต้องการตามรอยเขา ดังนั้น ความสำคัญของฮาเวียร์ ซาเน็ตตี้ในวงการฟุตบอลไม่สามารถนับถอยหาก และจะยังคงอยู่ในหัวใจของแฟนๆทั่วโลกตลอดกาล
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pqrachel · 1 year ago
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Just GM'd that Shadow of the Demon Lord game I've been planning, it went okay. I messed a few things up, but ultimately I think it went okay. I really enjoyed it. It was really hard dealing with 5 players and all the NPCs all at once. I don't want to exclude anyone in particular but having that full of a game wasn't easy.
No one wanted to RP at the start and explore the town before the adventure stuff so no one got to see Hackphlegm or any of my other minor NPCs except for one drunk guy that got robbed. So I'm a little sad. Definitely not how I expected the players to handle it (obviously players gonna do what players gonna do), but I think having NPCs in my back pocket and bringing them out if a player chooses to interact is better than expecting each NPC to get gametime and getting hopeful about how they all would get to be in the story.
But now I gotta level all the players and find a new adventure for them. I might make my own at some point, but there's so many good ones online already, I'm gonna give myself time to learn the system. Both me and the players still gotta get used to the world.
But yeah ultimately I learned a lot about the world and how to be a better GM, definitely gonna try to find some player order and health tracking apps to help too, and I'm excited to play another session. No one died and everyone kind of got used to each other so we'll get to play more than one session with the same characters which will be a first for me. (I've played so many single session D&D games, it's exhausting.)
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...and it's Drawcember so even though I'm a bit exhausted mentally from GMing the game; here's NPC that saved the players asses, Muck! She's a changeling that's been murdering and taking people's forms. This is her after taking the woodsman clothes and reverting back to her true form. (Originally from the Dark Deeds in Last Hope adventure.) Players ended up arresting her while Adelmar was released back to his father the mayor.
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wintersgff · 1 year ago
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You should rest up bro :(((
I'm good 😄 haven't been doing much tbh
RUSSIANS DANCING
i cant rest rn 💔
what's happening to u barbie 😦😦
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pernambuconoticias · 2 years ago
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Chã Grande: Mangueira e Camela fazem a final da Copa Adelmar Fagundes nesta segunda (1º)
Foto: divulgação A edição de 2023 da Copa Adelmar Fagundes será decidida nesta segunda-feira (1º). Duas equipes se enfrentam na final da competição, realizada em homenagem ao Dia do Trabalhador. No Estádio Barbosão, a partir das 9h, Mangueira e Camela vão duelar de olho no título, com entrada gratuita para os torcedores chã-grandenses. Esta será a primeira final entre as duas equipes. Mas na…
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