#Also with his armour on he's often confused for a guardian

[pomellon]

Noah is coming along and I love him so much already! Tired lil battle scholar <3 Still need to figure out his armour tho!

[prongsisabadger]

TWP Chapter 21

A shuttle took us to the Negotiator once we dropped the 501st and Master Skywalker off on their ship. A report had been given to the Jedi Council already. Eleven dead, several wounded. The price for an arrogant politician's actions. I had made it a point to stay silent the entire time, coming to terms with my feelings regarding the entire situation. My disdain for Chairman Cho, my indifference for his death, my inability to set it all aside and try to come to a peaceful solution.

I had failed as a Jedi, and yet it didn't feel like it. The silent, but powerful gratitude I felt in the clones when I visited the med bay made it all worth it. In the corridors, the 501st said nothing, but every clone I walked past either saluted me or patted my shoulder. There was no need for more. But in the back of my mind, I knew my behavior had not been that of a Jedi. The real question was: was that really wrong?

All of this I considered in silence, I had to sort my emotions on my own before I asked Master Kenobi the important questions. I needed to know the source of my hatred for Cho -other than the obvious-, the reason behind my protectiveness of the clones and my attachment to them. I needed to figure out if I was truly capable of feeling all of this but not let it dictate my actions. Was I capable of accepting the death of those around me and not let my grief turn into hatred? Was I capable of processing it all and letting it go? If I was in a situation where I couldn't really take my time to process it all, how would I react?

Master Kenobi decided not to comment on my silence, at least not until we were on board the Negotiator. He had probably felt my struggle and decided to give me some time to sort it all out. Master Kenobi, I'd realized, was the type of Master to be quietly supportive. He would give you time to figure things out on your own and only interfere if things felt like they were getting out of hand. He was the kind of person who knows when to shut up and when to interfere.

Unlike Master Plo, who decided to simply wait until I came to him with my concerns because he knew I trusted him enough to do so, and he trusted me to figure things out on my own in turn. I guess it was because of the nature of each master. Kenobi might have been a good negotiator, but at the end of the day he was a Guardian, always would be. There was no way he would stand idly by when he felt turmoil within his Padawan.

"You've been awfully quiet since we left orbit." He was trying to be casual about it, asking only when the only people around were a few maintenance droids and the hangar crew. "Don't get me wrong, it is nice to have a Padawan who can stay still for a change, but the Force does not lie, Kriari. What's on your mind?"

I smiled, I'd have to ask him about that some other time.

"I don't know if Master Plo ever told you, but I'm not good with emotions -feeling them that is." I started "I'm more mentally oriented and feelings confuse me a lot. I'm trying to sort mine out and understand them. That way, if I know how I respond emotionally to certain situations, I can know what to expect of myself in the future. It makes not giving into them a bit easier."

This seemed to amuse Obi-Wan.

"Emotions are very volatile, and they are meant to be felt, not thought, young one. Analysing them will only get you so far."

We started to make our way out of the hangar and towards the elevators, we had to meet with Commander Cody for debriefing and status reports on the 212th.

"I know that, Master, but it doesn't hurt to try. It's also an excuse to reevaluate my relationships with the people around me. I might not have acted on impulse in Orto Plutonia, but I did let my feelings get the best of me. Charman Cho-"

"You did nothing wrong in Orto Plutonia, Kriari. The Chairman was a test on the resolve of all of us present. Not acting on your emotions does not mean you don't get to feel them. You are entitled to your own opinion on the man and his actions. The Force knows it was a test for all three of us to keep it together." He said as the doors to the upper level opened. "You forget you are a Padawan, this is the time for you to make mistakes and learn from them, don't be so hard on yourself."

It was at times like these that I realized just how lucky I had been when I'd been assigned both my masters. They were understanding and compassionate, but they knew where to draw the line. Master Kenobi, as a Guardian, often took a more direct approach to every situation, while Master Plo was willing to wait and let things pan out before acting. It was a good thing that I was Padawan to both. One appealed to my rational side, and the other to my intuition, but both of them knew where my priorities lied and respected that.

Cody was waiting for us at the bridge, but the Force around him wasn't calm and collected as usual, something had happened. If I'd felt it, then Master Kenobi had too, but when I looked at him all I saw was his unmoveable exterior. To me, Master Plo felt safe because he was a comforting presence, someone who would validate your fears but guide you through them. Master Kenobi -on the other hand- felt safe because he was strong, supporting, immovable like a pillar holding the ceiling above your head even in the face of an earthquake.

"You have news for us, I gather, Cody." Said my Master.

"I do, Sir," started the commander before turning on a holo map on the tactical table. "We have received a transmission from Naboo. Senator Amidala has found a Separatist lab within the system and has requested Jedi intervention."

What was the saying, again? No rest for the wicked?

...

I adjusted my new armour as I exited my quarters aboard the Negotiator. After the other set had been all but melted off my back, Master Kenobi put a few of his men to work on a new one. This one still had the original gray design of the Pack on the left arm, but the right one now sported a straight yellow line that ran from my shoulder to my wrist. The chest piece had been left its original white, and the symbol of the Jedi order had been moved to where my heart was. When I asked about it, Master Kenobi shot a side glance at Cody and grinned. The Clone Commander blushed lightly. It was so that I could blend in easier in the 212th -he said- scratching nervously at the back of his head. It was heartwarming, the fact that -even after working together for a short while- Cody was still welcoming me into the battalion as if I'd been there the entire time.

Clone loyalty was something that had baffled me from the very beginning. Even during the first assault on Geognosis, the clones had welcomed me in as one of their own, and even after that, some of them remained my closest friends. Art, Twitch, Boost, Wolffe, and even Headfirst had shown their loyalty time and time again. Not only by saving my life and having my back, but also by showing me they cared.

Wolffe tried to keep me safe at every turn, he monitored me closer than anyone else and made sure I was level headed in the field. Art made sure not to pry every time I sat down to get tattooed. He knew the weight of those names, he never asked how many names I had left, or if I was planning to stop at some point. He made sure each stroke was precise so it didn't need going over. He never asked if I was tired of it or if I didn't think I had too many already. Twitch made sure to check on my mental health even when he wasn't assigned to watch me, he would recommend books or bands or holo shows to keep my mind entertained and away from the battlefield. Headfirst made sure to spar with me every time one of us had the time, and he insisted it was so that I wouldn't lose my touch.

And the men of the 212th were starting to warm up to me quickly too. Their loyalty to their General extended to me as well, so it took little convincing for them to acknowledge me as a part of their battalion.

They had all proved to me time and time again that they would be risking their lives for me as much as I'd been doing for them, not because it was their duty, but because they wanted to keep me alive.

I double checked that I had both my lightsaber and my Kel Dor mask before finally stepping into the hangar. I decided that -since we were going to infiltrate a laboratory- it was in my best interest to have something to help filter the air around me. I did not put it past the separatists to use biological warfare when it would clearly give their droid forces an advantage over an army of life forms. Even if blowing up the entire facility would only compromise Naboo instead of the dozens of systems they were aiming for.

After receiving further information from Naboo, Masters Kenobi and Skywalker decided that a smaller taskforce was probably better in close quarters. Master Kenobi and I would be taking a single squad made up of two teams of four. The bomb diffusing team would go in with General Kenobi, and the assault team would come with me. Master Skywalker and Ahsoka would be doing the same. The aim was to capture the lab, its resident chemist and rescue both Senator Amidala and Representative Binks without setting off any of the bombs that contained an airborne version of the Blue Shadow virus. It was a delicate operation, and the stakes were higher than ever.

My master and the rest of the squad were waiting for me aboard the LAAT/i that would take us to the surface where we would have one last briefing before storming the facility. The men were doing last minute checks on their armour integrity and weapons function as the pilot closed the blast doors and carefully started the taking off sequence. In my head I went over the plan once again and did a mental checklist on everything I had on me. Mask, check; lightsaber, check; armour, check; names of the team…

I realized I had never worked closely with any of the 212th before, and there had been no time for introductions right then, rescue missions needed to be quick. I introduced myself to the four troopers that would be working with me. Waxer, Boil, T.H. and Ginger introduced themselves in turn. they had heard a lot about me from Rex, they said. Which only made me dread what the Captain might have told them. I hoped nothing about my tendency to catch fire.

But there was no time for that now. We arrived at Theed in no time, and there was a meeting to attend. The plan was simple: Ahsoka and I would be leading our teams through one of the lab's entrances and creating a distraction so that our Masters could disarm the bombs and rescue the hostages. I was confident we could make it with minimal casualties. And even if ours was the most action packed mission, I would rather face droids than try and diffuse bombs before the virus killed us all.

As it turns out, it didn't really matter what I wanted. In war, if something could go wrong, it would. And this mission was no exception.

[mnemememory]

all the stars in the sky - 

Chapter 1

Guardians of the Galaxy AU where Beau and Jester are simultaneously better and worse than Starlord, Yasha and Molly are Gamora, Nott is not a genetically modified raccoon (but she's just as good at blowing things up), Caleb is Groot, Fjord has less tattoos than Drax and Caduceus is confused.

INFREQUENT UPDATES

"Beau," Jester says, waving her hands through the holographic images of happy people. "I don't think this is such a good idea."

Beau keeps walking forward, footsteps echoing through the ruined cityscape. She tries not to look at the holograms too closely - she knows that Jester enjoys decorating her maps with whatever flavour text she can get her hands on, but Beau finds the whole thing just a little too lifelike to properly enjoy. Especially when that involves looking at the faces of dead people.

"Dairon is going to be mad," Jester says, hurrying to catch up. Her map flickers out for a second as they enter a new quadrant, and then springs to life. Children run across the cracked stone ground in a loop. Beau closes her eyes to steady herself.

"Dairon is always mad," Beau says. "And this is just a little side-job. There's nothing wrong with making a bit of extra money."

"Dairon is always mad at you," Jester corrects. She fidgets a little with her watch, and the hologram resets itself to contain only the architecture. Beau's tense muscles loosen a fraction. "She likes me. I'm her favourite."

That is blatantly untrue, and Beau refuses to acknowledge such lies. She turns her nose up in the air and keeps moving further into the ruined world.

The planet of Emon is eerie in its stillness. Towers stretch to skeletons, the twin suns red and dying. The light flickers ominously overhead. Beau has her night-vision goggles pushed back into her fringe in case things go dark. Jester doesn't need to worry - Tieflings never really had to worry about not being able to see - but Beau is Terran, is human, and she doesn't have any of those same natural advantages.

"Dairon doesn't have favourites," Beau says. "And if she did, it would most certainly be me."

Jester very maturely sticks her tongue out, hopping over a fissure in the ground. Her boot kicks against something that snarls, and Beau has her staff out and set to sear before she's even conscious of what she's doing.

Jester laughs. "Put that thing away," she says, kneeling down. There's a small, furred creature curled up in-between two rocks, fur dark and patchy. Jester soothes it out from its hiding place with careful words, smiling without showing her teeth. Beau can't even begin to understand how she does it. She had once had a messenger owl, and. Well. Things hadn't ended particularly well between them. She liked to think that he was still out there, somewhere, living his best life with the stars. But she doubted it.

"Hello there," Jester says, coaxing the thing into her hands. In the dim half-light it is revealed to be a startling red rather than the darker brown Beau had initially thought, long and slender. Jester pets it between the ears and it lets out a small croon.

Beau glances at her wrist. There's a timer in the corner of her screen, seconds ticking over and -

Beau's eyes narrow.

"Jester," she says.

"I'm going to name you Sprinkle," Jester tells the thing. Beau internally sighs. They're never going to get rid of it now.

"Jester," she says again. "Come on. We need to hurry up."

Jester sighs. "Okay, okay," she says, standing up. The creature squeaks, and Jester obligingly wraps it around her neck like furry scarf. Beau is almost jealous - it's fairly chilly in the dead light - but also that thing is probably infected with all kinds of diseases her Terran immune system couldn't hope to handle. She's learned the tough way that sometimes, just sometimes, being human in a galaxy of weirdo superheroes kind of sucks.

"This way," Jester says. The world around them glitches again, and the hologram resets itself a few frames away.

They go down.

The further into the ground they go, the less data that Jester has to work with. She umms and aahs about it, the little creature squeaking every so often into Jester's ear. Beau stays a few metres ahead, staff out. A mild current of electricity runs through the metal - not enough to burn, but definitely enough to stun.

"Just a little further," Jester says.

"You've said that for the past five minutes," Beau says.

"I got lost before," Jester says. "We shouldn't have gone own that last corner. But now I know where we are. Just a little further."

And then:

Beau hadn't quite imagined it properly. Emon was a dead thing, the centre of an empire that had long-since fallen to ruin. She's heard stories, of course, because the Cobalt Soul told stories. She's read books, of course, because they were the purveyors and providers of knowledge. She's heard of them all: Allura Vysoran, Kima of Vord, Vox Machina...

Stories.

The room in front of her is – everything she could have dreamed of, and everything she never wanted to see. The Council Chambers, adorned in cobweb lace and rotted tapestries. Beau catches her breath on the dust in the air and she feels like she's choking.

Jester keeps going forward. Jester has always been so good at putting one foot in front of the other, even in the presence of so much history. "This way," she says, and kneels in the middle of the chamber.

As she walks forward, the air transforms, the hologram stretching outward like magic. Beau's eyes widen as the rubble and rock are swept away underneath clear glass floors and glowing pillars of ice. The tapestries restitch themselves into intricate tableau's of life and death, characters waving sword-like instruments and riding upon enormous beasts. A table sits where Jester is kneeling, surrounded by people.

The Council.

Beau walks forward in a dream, eyes locked forward. The people around the room are still, unmoving – Beau can't quite reconcile their frozen faces with Jester's proclivity towards movement in her art. Her eyes are drawn to a tall, slender figure adorned in fire, eyes of burnished bronze glowing out of a pale half-moon face, cheeks littered with freckles. Tall antlers stretch towards the ceiling, holding back a wealth of red hair.

Keyleth of the Air Ashari.

"What do you think?" Jester asks, looking up from the floor with a wide smile on her face. "I didn't have time to animate them properly, but I got a whole lot of historical references -"

"They look real," Beau says, heart seizing in her chest.

Jester beams.

Beau kneels down next to her. Her skin prickles with the feeling of being watched, and she can't quite help but wish that Jester had made her holograms a little less realistic than she had.

"Here," Jester says, pressing her hand down on a floor tile. Her fingers glow blue for a second, and then bright pink sparks fly from her fingernails to dig into the cracks in the floor.

Beau watches as the ground splits apart, tiles jolting downwards to form a square opening. Slowly, the needle-point of a pyramid the size of Beau's thigh begins to pierce upwards, something round and metallic balanced on the very tip.

"Here it is," Jester says proudly, dusting the remaining sparks of pink light off of her hands and getting to her feet. "The orb!"

Beau grins, reaching out and -

Jester's holograms glitch out of existence, leaving the room in hollow darkness. Something hard and cold presses into the small of her back. Beau's fingers freeze millimetres from the orb.

"Good evening, ladies," a smooth voice says from behind her. "But I think we'll be taking that off your hands."

Jester looks up. "Oh, no," she says. "It's the...who are you?"

Beau retracts her hand and turns slowly around, making sure not to make any kind of obvious play towards the orb. The man is clearly drow, the purple skin highlighted through Beau's goggles. His cloak flares out dramatically around him. Beau would be impressed, if there hadn't been a blade stabbing painfully into the small of her back.

"Who I am is not important," the drow says. "Please step away."

Beau's fingers twitch towards her staff, but the blade digs a little deeper into the gaps in her armour. Beau lets out a short huff and steps to the side, making sure to telegraph her moves so she doesn't get turned into a human kebab.

Jester doesn't look too impressed. "I think that this is called cheating," she says. "You just followed us here, didn't you? That was very inconsiderate -"

"Please be quiet," the drow says. "Or I'm going to have to do some unpleasant things to this friend of yours."

"Beau's been stabbed before," Jester says, grinning.

"You're awfully confident for two scavengers going up against the might of Xhorhas."

Beau closes her eyes. The Dynasty. Great. Dairon was going to kill her.

"Well, Xhorhas isn't really here," Jester says, getting to her feet and brushing off her skirts. Pink sparks flew down the fabric to fizzle out at her feet. "I only see you."

"Yeah," Beau says, trying to casually lean away from the knife. "There's only one of you and two of us."

The knife follows Beau's unsubtle attempts to remain un-stabbed. With a sigh, the drow snaps his fingers.

"I see you're going to have to do this the hard way," he says, and Beau lunges away.

Jester is already there, gigantic lollipop-shaped weapon materialising within her hands to give the drow a good whack on the back of his head. Beau grabs onto the orb and stuffs it down her shirt. She grabs onto Jester's outstretched hand and they pop away in time to avoid a flurry of arrows.

They re-materialise back above ground, towards the upper crust of Emon. The ground roughens underneath their feet as they hurry forward, the stones giving way to badly cracked earth and loose dirt. In the distance behind them, something very large and very angry begins to yell.

"Dairon is not going to be happy with us," Jester says.

"Can you stop saying that?" Beau says miserably. She is not looking forward to the upcoming lecture.

Jester just sticks her tongue out at Beau. They parked The Mistake an unfortunate distance away, and there are some days that Beau really regrets letting Jester name basically everything. Still, the name always seems to end up feeling brutally appropriate. Like now.

"Just a little further," Beau says. She risks a quick glance behind them and lets out a low curse. The Mistake might be small and well-maintained, but she was built for an entirely different skillset to Xhorhsian tortoise-ships, which (in addition to being very large and hard to destroy) packed a mean bite when things got down to it. And, apparently, the drow and his fellow companions had thought to park their entourage fairly close to the ruin, because they were gaining on them.

"Where are you, where are you," Beau says. She recognises the area vaguely, but that doesn't mean they're going to be able to find their cloaked ship with any sort of urgency. The rock formations all blend together under the weight of adrenalin that's burning through her veins, and Beau has to take a few deep breaths to centre herself. Remember your training, she thinks, but Jester is beside her and they've got three tortoise-ships in the air behind them and –

She slams into something very hard and very invisible.

"Found it," Beau says woozily. She shakes her head and rams around the metal plating for the release door button, only for Jester to push past her and do it in half the time it would have taken Beau.

They both rush forward and slam the door behind them, Beau hopping up onto the second level and scrambling to the controls.

"Buckle up," she calls back. "This is going to take a miracle!"

...

...

"I can't believe we survived that."

Jester groans in agreement from where she's tumbled off to the side of the ship, face smooshed into the metal wall. She doesn't appear to have any inclination to get up, and Beau kind of feels that same. She's slumped over the controls, sweating badly. She can feel blood slowly dripping from the wound in her back, and she isn't looking forward to peeling off her shirt anytime soon. Maybe if she soaked it first...

Of course, getting any sort of water out here was basically impossible, so Beau is probably going to have to settle for antiseptic and stinging for the rest of her life. There are very few things that Beau misses about Earth, but regular baths in water is one of them.

"We should get this back to Pumat."

"Can we take a break first?" Jester says.

"The sooner we get this thing to Pumat, the sooner we get paid," Beau says. She reaches down her shirt and pulls out the orb to study it.

It doesn't look especially valuable. Beau has been living around smugglers – well, technically "anarchists", but smuggling was a very convenient and profitable front, so Dairon didn't mind the occasional odd-job so much – basically Beau's whole life, and she knows how to spot valuable things. The metalwork is in good shape for something that's been living under the ruins of Emon for probably over a thousand years, but considering the workmanship that was commonly associated with that planet, that was hardly a surprise. The only reason they had known it was there was because of some very specific instructions from Pumat, and even then it had taken a solid fortnight of research to figure out how to narrow down the search from "planet" to "building". There's nothing – well, especially interesting about it. It's more than a little disappointing.

"I want to go to a bathhouse," Jester says. "The last one we went to had a really cute girl who couldn't stop looking at you –"

Beau grimaces. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"It'll be fun!"

"How do you even get your eyes to sparkle like that?"

From the lower floor of The Mistake, something bangs against the roof.

"Oh shit," Beau says.

Jester sighs. "Please tell me you didn't –"

From across the control room, the floor hatch slams open and an enraged shriek fills the cockpit. Beau cringes into her seat as a female halfling pulls herself onto the upper deck. She's barely dressed, muscles for days, and Beau has so many regrets right now. So many.

"Oh," she says, trying and failing to laugh. It comes out as more of a pathetic squeak, which is more than a little bit embarrassing. "I'm sorry, I completely" – forgot you were there. Beau stops herself from actually saying it, but from the way the halfling's eyes narrow to furious slits, it doesn't really help her face.

"Where am I," she snarls.

"Uh..."

"Hi, I'm Jester!" Jester says, beaming.

The halfling ignores her, eyes boring into Beau’s skull.

“We’ll take you back to the Creek, er –”

“Keg,” the halfling helpfully supplies.

“Keg,” Beau repeats weakly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home ASAP.”

Jester is laughing at her. Beau unsubtly elbows her.

Keg looks extremely unimpressed, but she does go back into the hold, which Beau is counting as progress.

“I’ll log in the coordinates for Shadyrun Creek, then,” Jester says, scratching underneath Sprinkle’s chin with a sparkling air of nonchalance that Beau kind of wants to kick out into space.

“…yeah,” she says, folding her arms across her chest and trying not to blush. “That’s probably a good idea.”

…

…

[theshatteredrose]

A Gathering of Guardians - Prologue (Chapter 11) - Etrian Odyssey Nexus Fanfiction

AN: Slowly making my way through this @_@ Though I did get kinda carried away with this chapter. Now that it’s done, I’m taking a nap. I feel exhausted. Enjoy!

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFnet

Chapter 11:

Nitish attempted to keep his mind off the city of Maginia that had moored on the outskirts of town by writing in his notebook. But it was quite difficult to concentrate due to the innumerable emotions that were radiating through Tharsis. And the project he was working on deserved his full consideration.

A sigh escaped his lips as he flipped a page over in his notebook.

“Nitish?” Roxbury questioned as he sat next to him on the couch in Count’s office. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh. I’m…trying to write a letter to Isiah’s penpal,” Nitish admitted. “To thank him, for his help. His medicine…saved Achyuta.” He sighed and shook his head as he gazed down at his notebook. “But…how do you thank someone you’ve never met for saving the life of someone you love?”

Understanding and sympathy was felt from Roxbury and he, too, uttered a sigh. “…To be truthful, I wanted to write something, too. And I’m having the same trouble.”

Yes, that was right. Isiah’s penpal had helped him, too. Him and Zesiro. Nitish did not know of the events of what occurred on that night Roxbury had rushed to the wharf to find Zesiro. But he had sensed his fear. And his relief when he returned an hour or so later.

And when they received that parcel, Zesiro had watched Roxbury closely, protectively as he began his treatment.

“Are you also worried about what the Count’s friend wish to ask of us?” Roxbury suddenly asked him, which surprised him for a moment.

“Maybe a little,” Nitish confessed and idly trailed his fingertip over the blank page of his notebook. “I feel as though he’s going to ask us to join Maginia.”

Roxbury didn’t seem surprised by that. He just nodded his head, almost solemnly. “For the expedition?

Nitish idly folded the corner of the page with his fingers. “Hm. I’m…not actually opposed to it. But…I don’t want to have to leave anyone behind.”

They were a large family. There were many that needed one another. It would hurt them greatly should they suddenly separate. Even for a short time.

“Yeah. We’ve…got quite the support network here, haven’t we?” Roxbury commented as his hands subconsciously curled into fists atop of his thighs. “It’ll feel like we’re somehow abandoning them.”

Nitish simply and silently nodded.

The door to Count’s office opened slowly and Ciaran appeared. He looked inside, slightly breathless as if he had jogged the entire way from the Cargo Wharf.

“Ah, good, you’re here, Ciaran,” Count greeted as he ushered Ciaran inside.

“Sorry for being late,” the wharfmaster murmured as he walked into the room. “Had to deal with a rookie guild. They’re getting a little too excited with that flying city here and all. Besides, I’m a little surprised yer asked me to join this meeting. What would they want to speak to me for?”

Count walked over to Ciaran and rested a hand upon his shoulder. “Well, my boy, they’re looking for an expert airship builder and pilot.”

“Huh?” Ciaran instantly uttered. It took a few more seconds for the true meaning of those words to settle in and he pointed to himself with a dumbfounded expression. “They…want me to join Maginia for their expedition?”

That was…somewhat surprising. And yet, it wasn’t.

Count squeezed Ciaran’s shoulder comfortingly. “That is only a theory at this point, but I do believe that they wish to have the option of air exploration, too.”

Ciaran nervously wrung his hands together in front of him. “…Leave Tharsis?”

“It’s a high possibility that the Phaedron Guild would also receive a request to join,” Count continued as he dropped his hand from Ciaran’s shoulder to address the others within his office. “Though, you may have already reached that possibility on your own, yes?”

Nitish nodded his head. “I had a feeling…”

“You don’t have to accept, of course,” Count added quickly with a smile on his lips. But the smile become slightly strained, though he hid it the best he could. “But…it truly is a chance in a lifetime, hm?”

He didn’t want them to go, but he was too kind to deny them the possibility either. And he was right. Such an opportunity did not present itself often, if at all. If they were indeed being asked to join the expedition, it would be a shame to say no.

But Tharsis was indeed their home.

A trill of surprise raced down Nitish’s spine when he was made aware of a powerful presence. No. There were two. Two powerful auras. Far off in the distance, but he could narrow in on them so easily.

But the auras belonged to that of…humans.

They were powerful, but not at all frightening. It was something he hadn’t encounter before. It was honestly a little bit confusing. Powerful and yet…gentle.

Wait…one aura was extremely powerful, but benign. The other was…something he may have encountered before. Not on this grandeur scale. But it was powerfully gentle. This was…ethereal.

The notebook in Nitish’s hand tumbled to the floor as he quickly took to his feet. “That aura…”

“What’s wrong?” Roxbury immediately asked, concern evidence.

“Th-there’s two powerful auras,” Nitish stuttered as he tried to focus in on the new auras. “Th-they just entered Tharsis.”

They were both moving closer. Together.

…Ethereal?

Nitish’s eyes widened before he turned to face Isiah. “I-Isiah, it’s your penpal.”

Isiah looked at him with a confused expression for a moment. “What?”

“One of those powerful auras is your penpal,” Nitish reiterated. “I’m sure of it. It’s…similar to what I sensed when I read his letters to you. And those notebooks. Th-there’s no mistaking it.”

Isiah continued to look confused, but he did believe him. “He never said anything about visiting. Did he come from Maginia?” he questioned as he walked over to the large bay windows of Count’s office.

“Yes, that’s where the aura resonated from,” Nitish answered as he moved over to the windows, also.

Roxbury stood up from his seat and moved to stand beside Nitish. “Could they have agreed to join Maginia for their expedition?”

Gazing at the large flying city on the outskirts of town, Isiah nodded his head. “From what I understand, he’s the co-leader to a very competent guild who specialise in Search and Rescue. Maybe Maginia thought they needed such a specialised guild?”

Nitish pressed his hand against the glass while he clutched at his chest with his other. “They’re heading this way.”

They fell into silence as they waited. Soon enough, crowds of people lined the streets as unfamiliar figures were led toward Mark’s Grand Court.

They were a small precession. No doubt trying not to appear intimidating. A few guards in garbs that were not familiar to the soldiers of Tharsis, whom of which were guiding the group through the streets. A man in black armour seemed to take the lead, with another elderly man close behind him. Yet it was the two rather unassuming young men who lingered a few steps behind that drew in Nitish’s full attention.

There was no uncertainty about it. Those powerful auras he had sensed emanated from them.

That orange hair, though. He had seen something similar to that in a vision not too long ago. When he first touched the letters between Isiah and his Lagaardian pen-pal.

“That’s…” Nitish drew in a sharp breath.

“I take the one in the white medical coat?” Roxbury asked, obviously asking about Isiah’s possible penpal.

“More likely than not,” Isiah replied. He fell silent for a moment, not doubt studying the other man from a distance. “Huh. He looks younger than I had envisioned. Little on the skinny side, too.”

Roxbury quickly turned to Nitish, a frown gracing his lips. “Are you all right, Nitish? You said that their auras were powerful.”

“Yes, they are,” Nitish admitted, but shook his head nevertheless. “But not overwhelming.”

They fell silent as the watched the small brigade enter the grounds of Mark’s Grand Court. They then moved away from the window. There was a noticeable sense of tension between them all now. No, not quite tension – anticipation.

A few moments later they heard the noise of footsteps. A parade of them. No voices yet, however. Only footsteps as they reached the door to Count’s office. That same door soon opened and a Tharsian guard stepped into the room. His posture was straight, professional. He opened his mouth to speak, likely to introduce their new visitors.

But he was immediately cut-off when an older man draped in a tribal cloak and a monocle pushed past him. And walked straight up to Count, who didn’t appear the slightest bit perturbed.

“Henleigh!” the man greeted warmly, but still boisterously, his arms wide at his sides to embrace the man. “Good to see you again!”

“Ah, Villard!” Count greeted in return, just as jovial. His smile was sincere and genuine when the other man pulled him into a quick embrace. He chuckled and patted the other man on the back. “It’s been too long. You’re quite the worldly researcher now, hm?”

The familial warmth between them was quite reassuring. They were indeed old friends.

But Nitish’s attention was immediately drawn to their other visitors as they walked into the office also. More specifically, it was the young man with the orange hair that gained his full attention.

It wasn’t just his medical coat that indicated that he was a medic; his presence was truly warm and gentle. He was unlike anyone Nitish had encountered before. A true healer. Just being in his presence made one feel safe, cared for. He could ease the burden of illness or injury with a simple look.

Isiah had a formable presence, one that indicated that he was a medical professional. Someone who would and could help any ailment.

But him…he was different. Nitish had never encountered anyone with such an ethereal aura before.

The man next to him, the tall redhead with the large axe he carried with ease, had a powerful aura of his own. But his presence was more formable, more outwardly protective. He had such powerful strength at his disposal. He felt as though he could face down the fiercest of dragons and not feel an ounce of fear. Yet, his outward appearance presented the feeling of support and friendship.

Despite the large weapon resting on his back, he looked relatively harmless. As harmless as an explorer could get. He looked like the quintessential big brother figure.

The both of them were quite extraordinary. Their auras were powerful, but not smothering or overwhelming in anyway. In fact, they both felt reassuring.

Violet eyes suddenly turned in Nitish’s direction and he tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The smile was still gentle on his lips and there wasn’t a sense of disturbance in his aura. It was as if he had felt Nitish’s curiosity.

“Ah, yes, let me introduce you to my escorts,” Villard stated as he took a step back from Count and turned to his attention to the man with the dark armour and a rather painful looking scar upon his hairline. “This is Mueller, Maginia’s guildmaster.”

The man, Mueller, nodded his head in greeting. “It is an honour, Highland Count. Princess Persephone sends her regrets for not meeting you personally. But she was needed within HQ. Besides, it seems that Villard here knows you quite personally.”

Count gave Mueller a warm handshake. “It is indeed a shame I couldn’t meet with the Princess, but I do understand. In the end, it appeared it would be for the best. Villard and I would likely chat aimlessly, even in the presence of royalty.”

Mueller gave a half smile. “Ah, perhaps that is what the Princess had believed would happen, too.”

“Well, I welcome you to Tharsis. Though I know you won’t be staying with us long, I do hope that you enjoy your time here,” Count said.

“We are grateful for your hospitality-”

“Ah, enough with formalities, yes?” Villard interrupted, which earned him a slight eye-roll from Mueller. “Didn’t you wish to speak with the Guildmaster here in Tharsis? I am certain that he may have some advice or information to offer you.”

Mueller nodded his head. “Hm, perhaps I’ll do that now,” he replied in a pacifying manner and he turned to Count. “Villard is sure to go through the details of the expedition, yes? Excuse me.”

Count was as understanding as always. “Not at all! My guards will be more than happy to show you the way.”

Mueller tilted his head forward in understanding before he turned and took a set of his personal guards with him as he allowed for a Tharian guard to be his guide once more. As he did so, he moved to speak with their two other guests. He spoke with the redhead for a moment, quietly exchanging words. The redhead nodded, and seemed to say something reassuring before the two parted ways.

That small conversation prompted everyone to turn their attention to the two young men.

“Ah, yes. Forgive me,” Villard said as he motioned for the two to move closer to the centre of the room. “Let me introduce you to Axel and Lynus, the co-leaders of the Guardians guild, who has so generously offered their help for Maginia’s expedition.”

Nitish felt undecidedly happy. “Ah, it is them.”

Count appeared momentarily surprised. He seemed to have known of Isiah’s pen-pal as well. He, however, didn’t comment on it and his expression turned into a warm greeting. “Ah, then let me introduce you to Roxbury, leader of the Phaedron Guild. And his two teammates, Nitish and Isiah.”

Lynus, the man with orange hair, perked up and clapped his hands together in front of him, a warm smile on his lips. “Isiah! It’s good to finally meet you.”

Isiah smiled softly as he moved forward to greet Lynus. He offered his hand for the other to shake, which he did. But Lynus took his hand in both of his, greeting him warmly. “This is a surprise,” Isiah said.

“Hah, I’m sure it is,” Lynus chuckled as he patted the back of Isiah’s hand. He released his hold and turned to Axel, the redheaded man. “Oh yes, this is my husband, Axel. I’ve mentioned him, haven’t I?”

Axel stepped forward and shook Isiah’s hand firmly. “Hey, how you doing?” he greeted in a purely friendly manner.

Nitish walked over to Lynus and even though he had just been introduced, he greeted him once again. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Nitish, Isiah’s brother.”

Lynus smiled warmly in return. “Ah, yes, Isiah has mentioned you. It’s incredible to finally meet you.”

Unexpectedly, Nitish felt flustered at the response. But he smiled in return and allowed Roxbury to step forward to greet the two as well.

“Ah, welcome to Tharsis. I’m Roxbury, leader of the Phaedron guild,” Roxbury greeted, allowing for Axel to give him a firm handshake in return. So firm and steady that Roxbury seemed momentarily surprised. But he seemed impressed nevertheless.

“Hey,” Axel returned. “Nice to meet you.”

Roxbury smiled, clearly comfortable with them already. As he released his hold on Axel’s hand, he turned to greet Lynus also. Lynus’ hand appeared a lot more delicate, so Roxbury purposely ensured that he didn’t shake his hand to hard.

Unexpectedly, Lynus seemed to still for a moment as he regarded Roxbury with a slight tilt of his head. He had a subtle faraway gaze in his eyes that lasted for a few seconds. However, he soon shook his head and patted the back of Roxbury’s hand before releasing.

“Good to see you’re doing well,” Lynus smiled.

Roxbury appeared puzzled. His expression was still polite, but he was confused nevertheless. His hand suddenly drifted to his side, where he had that terrible wound. His hand lingered there for a moment before he allowed his arm to drop loosely to his side.

“Ciaran, come over here,” Isiah said. “You should introduce yourself, too.”

There was a spike of surprise in Ciaran’s aura before he turned sheepish. “Ah, ok,” he murmured as he made his way over to the group of them. He collected himself the best he could under these circumstances and greeted the two.

“Nice to meet ya, the name’s Ciaran,” Ciaran greeted, falling back upon old habits. “Wharf-master of Tharsis.”

“Oh, you’re the one who has designed and help build the airships of Tharsis?” Lynus stated more than question, sounding genuinely impressed. “Tharsis is quite famous for their air travel and support.”

Ciaran rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, well, my Da did most of the work. I’m just following in his footsteps, yeah?”

“Perhaps it’s best that we get to the task at hand,” Villard suddenly announced, bringing everyone back into focus. “And I should formally invite Guild Phaedron to join us, to join Maginia, on an expedition to the mysterious island of Lemuria.”

Roxbury immediately turned to look at Villard. He was surprised, though not all shocked. “S-so, you do want us to join?”

Villard nodded his head sharply, firmly. Before he turned to clamp a hand on Count’s shoulder. “And Henleigh, you should join us, too.”

The request was a complete surprise and Nitish felt a slight gasp pass his lips at the honesty in Villard’s aura. Count, however, made a surprisingly scoffing sound. “Hah, your jokes are as abysmal as ever, I see.”

“That wasn’t a joke,” Villard stated, firmly, seriously. He turned to face Count completely and rested his other hand on his shoulder. “Henleigh, you gave up your chance to become an explorer to be the Highland Count of Tharsis. You had wanted to be an explorer. You, too, had wished to see the world first hand. This is your chance.”

The honesty in Villard’s words and actions caused Count to become speechless. Which was quite a feat as Count was able to remain professional under any circumstance. Well, most circumstances.

The request, however, was a complete surprise!

Was it really alright for the Count to join them? Did the royal council know of Villard’s intentions? Were they actually supportive? Maybe they wished to garner insight on how to control a city of unruly explorers?

“Um…” Ciaran muttered, almost reluctant to speak but felt the need to. “Is it true that Maginia wants me to join as well?”

Villard turned away from the still very silent Count and regarded Ciaran with a sense of familiarity. “Ah, Ciaran. My, have you grown.”

“Ehe?” Ciaran uttered, not at all expecting that response. “I-I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Only when you were just a small child,” Villard replied as he used his hand to indicate how short Ciaran once was. “Such a bubbly, inquisitive child you were. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. In any case, the answer to your question is; yes. Air exploration would help tremendously with their expedition.”

Villard sound rather flippant, yet his answers were honest. It was that quick and honest answer that caused Ciaran to fall silent.

Ever protective, Roxbury step forward to speak for Ciaran. “It’s quite a lot to take in.”

Villard folded his hands into the arms of his cloak and nodded his head sagely. “Ah, I’m sure it must be.”

“Um, I don't wish to influence your decision,” Lynus suddenly spoke up. “But I would like to offer you something that will put your mind at ease.”

Roxbury regarded him with a curious tilt of his head. “Yes?”

“You don't have to leave anyone behind.”

Roxbury blinked. “What do you mean?”

Axel grinned as he rested his hand on his hip. “That's pretty much it. We have the Subaltern of Etria travelling with us. Along with two guildmasters, one inn-keeper, one doctor who's running the hospital, and a bar-keep.”

“Not to mention several sovereigns,” Lynus added with a smile before a small chuckle escaped his lips. “From Lagaard alone, there’s thirty-three of us. Anyone who you are close to are welcome to join. You don't have to leave anyone behind who doesn't want to be left behind.”

Roxbury gazed at the two for a moment, taking that time to fully register what they had said. He soon smiled. “That is reassuring, thank you.”

Yes, it really was reassuring. Maybe they could join Maginia for a little while. All of them. Get away from the pressures of Tharsis for a while. Tharsis was their home, their beloved home. But…there were a few memories here, too.

“How long will you be visiting Tharsis?” Isiah asked suddenly.

“Just for the day, unfortunately,” Lynus replied, his disappointment palpable and sincere. “Maginia is planning on taking flight around lunch time tomorrow.”

Isiah frowned, disappointed as well. “I see.”

“Unfair, really,” Lynus commented as he curled a strand of his orange hair behind his ear. “I’ve been hoping to visit Tharsis for a while. Maybe after we return from Lemuria.”

“Will you stay long enough to meet the rest of our guild?” Nitish requested. “They would love to meet you.”

Lynus immediately smiled. “Of course. We’d love to meet them, too. We have all day, after all.”

Nitish returned the smile before he felt the trepidation and confusion of the other occupants of the room. Lynus’ aura was so comforting that it almost drowned out the uneasy feelings of others.

“Um, would you like to visit the Researcher’s Clinic now?” Nitish questioned. “I believe that Highland Count requires some time to find the answer to his own request.”

Count didn’t answer at first, too busy staring at the floor with a conflicted expression. He lifted his head up a moment later and managed a professional but forced smile. “…Ah, yes. Perhaps I do. Perhaps we all do,” he said.

He then turned to face Villard and gave him a rather stern look. Even going as far as to poke him harshly in the chest. “Honestly, Villard, you haven’t changed a bit. You come meandering back, drop a few bombshells, and expect answers.”

Villard shrugged and idly patted at the place Count had poked him. “Hm, I personally don’t see any merit in beating around the bush, as they say.”

“Ciaran?” Roxbury called out gently, clearly worried for their wharfmaster. “Do you want someone to walk you back to the wharf?”

“Ah, no, I’m fine,” Ciaran insisted, though it was more out of habit than the truth. “I’ll…use that time to think.”

Isiah turned to give him a curious look, too. “Come by the clinic later, ok?” That wasn’t exactly a suggestion.

Ciaran simply nodded his head as he made his way to the door. However, he as he walked past Lynus, the medic reached out to gentle touch him on the arm. The touch was light, but it caused Ciaran to halt in his steps.

“It really is quite a big decision to make,” Lynus started with understanding. “But I do offer this; it’s not a permanent one. After the expedition is complete in Lemuria, Maginia has promised to return to all the cities they had visited to return those who do wish to return. Though, you will need to stay for the entirety of the expedition. However, you won’t be there alone.”

Ciaran gazed at Lynus for a moment. Surprisingly, the tension in his shoulders lessened slightly and he nodded his head. “I’ll take that into consideration,” he said. “Ah, nice meeting you.”

Lynus simply nodded his head and watched with a curious, no maternal glance as Ciaran left the room.

Roxbury also watched until Ciaran was out of sight before he turned his attention to everyone. “Shall we go, too?”

After a few nods and words of affirmation, Roxbury dutiful took the lead. Though he walked with Axel, who he chatted with about his Search and Rescue specialities. Lynus walked between Isiah and Nitish. Despite this being their first face to face meeting, Lynus chatted easily with Isiah. They talked about joining Maginia and what it was like living within a flying city.

As they entered the streets of Tharsis, on the road that would lead to the Researchers’ Clinic, Lynus turned to look toward Nitish. He tilted his head curiously. Somewhat similar to how he did when Nitish caught his gaze in the office.

“Excuse me, Nitish? I hope I’m not being intrusive, but are you able to sense auras and emotions in others?”

Nitish nodded his head and folded his hands in front of him. “Yes, that’s right.”

Lynus smiled, almost relieved by something. “Ah. I can sense them, too.”

That surprised Nitish. “R-really?”

“Yes, I can also see auras,” Lynus replied honestly as he idly lifted his hand to touch the purple diamond marking that resided in the middle of his forehead. “It’s helpful when I’m dealing with an uncooperative patient.”

Nitish tilted his head to the side in question. “Oh?”

“You mentioned your diagnostic capabilities a few times in our letters.” Isiah was also curious about the admission.

“Yes. It’s kinda hard to explain, though,” Lynus replied before he fell silent, trying to find the words. “I inspect a person’s aura and look for dark spots. That allows me to concentrate in that area, limiting wait time, as it were.” He paused again, almost hesitant about what he wanted to say next. “Um, if you agree to join Maginia, I’ll be more than happy to show you.”

He was trying to remain considerate of others. But it was also quite clear that he would be most appreciative and supportive if they did indeed choose to join. That in itself was rather reassuring. If they did choose to join, they weren’t to join completely unsupported.

“Hey, Roxbury! What did the Count want?”

Upon hearing Blayden’s jovial voice, Nitish looked up to realise that they were quickly approaching their home. And Bryce and Blayden were outside near the front steps. The two brothers likely became curious about what was taking them so long with. And with the guards from Maginia wandering about the city.

“Ah, long story,” Roxbury said in response to Blayden’s question. “Before that, I should introduce you to our guests. This is Axel and Lynus, co-leaders of the Guardian guild. And this is Bryce and Blayden, members of the Phaedron guild.”

Funnily enough, both Axel and Bryce uttered the same “Hey, how you doing?” in greeting, prompting a half grin from Axel and a blink of surprise from Bryce. Blayden, however, greeted them far more cheerfully. His attention was drawn to Axel, however, and he fearlessly wandered up to him.

“That’s a large axe,” Blayden commented. “Can you actually use it?”

Axel reached up to snare the handle his weapon and lifted it up off of his back with little effort. “Here.” He then turned to Blayden and casually toss the axe in the air toward him, positioned in such a way that Blayden could catch the weapon by the horizonal handle.

The moment he did, however, the battle axe head immediately fell to the ground, imbedding itself within the pavement as Blayden himself staggered to the side by the sudden weight. He then went crashing to the ground in a rather unsophisticated heap.

Axel laughed. Not mockingly, but good-heartedly as Blayden struggled to push up the handle of the weapon and to sit up.

“Lame, Bro,” Bryce chided as he roughly folded his arms across his chest.

“O-oi, shut up!” Blayden stuttered. “It’s really heavy, ok? You try picking it up!”

Bryce rolled his eyes and reached down to snare the axe himself. The muscles in his arm strained and his brow furrowed. He grunted softly as he lifted the weapon. He dropped it into the palm of his other hand, bouncing it a little to assess the weight.

“It is heavy,” Bryce murmured. “You use this in battle?”

Axel reached out to take back his weapon, lifting it easily once more with one hand and with no effort, holstered it on his back once more. “Yeah, I can use it rather easily. Took some training, though.”

“How did you make it to Tharsis, anyway? From Maginia?” Bryce asked.

“That’s right. We were asked to join by the council,” Axel explained. “They’ve sent out similar requests to other guilds from the other cities they have and will visit.”

Bryce nodded his head at the explanation before he paused. He allowed the words to mull around in his head for a moment before he frowned and turned directly to Roxbury. “So that’s the reason, huh? They want us to join?”

Roxbury was momentarily surprised by Bryce’s observation. But he soon pushed that aside and nodded his head. “That’s right. Villard, an old friend of Highland Count’s, has specifically asked us to join.”

He paused for a moment to allow Bryce and Blayden to register the surprising news. Bryce’s brow deepened a fraction further while Blayden looked outwardly surprised. Blayden looked up to Bryce questioningly.

“Apparently, he wants Count to join also,” Roxbury added. “And Ciaran, too.”

Both Bryce and Blayden looked at Roxbury in surprise. Before they could say anything else, however, the doors of the clinic suddenly opened. And Zoran appeared, peering around the door. Likely lured out by the commotion outside. He blinked at everyone for a moment before he pushed away from the door and toddled down the stairs.

“Oh?” Lynus murmured in surprise as Zoran silently made his way to stand before him, peering up at him in wonder and interest.

“This is Zoran,” Isiah introduced as he placed his hand atop of Zoran’s head. “He’s known as a Vessel.”

Lynus’ expression bright in realisation. “Ah, yes, you mentioned them. Their appearance really is quite striking. Though…perhaps a little on the thin side of the health spectrum.”

Isiah made a half laugh, half cough sound in agreement. “Zoran, this is Lynus.”

“H-hello,” Zoran greeted shyly. “You have a very beautiful aura.”

“Why, thank you,” Lynus smiled gently. “As do you.”

“Hm, we have guests?” A deep and familiar voice questioned.

Attention was drawn to the entrance of the clinic once more as Biast eased he tall, bulky frame through the doors. He stood atop of the top step and stretched lightly. He rarely ventured inside the clinic as he was too tall for the structure to fit comfortable.

Lynus and Axel stared at Biast silently as the sentinel made his way down the stairs. There was surprise in their auras, and yet no fright or concern. Nitish had to admit that he was a little worried as to how a strong and protective person like Axel would react upon seeing a sentinel.

But his fears appeared unfounded. Axel didn’t react negatively at all. He had straightened his posture, ready to become defensive and offensive should the need arise. Yet he remained relaxed. Perhaps he had sensed that Biast offered them no threat of danger in return?

“And this is Biast,” Isiah explained as Biast made his way to the bottom of the stairs. “He’s a sentinel. Biast, these two are Lynus and Axel, leaders of the Guardian guild.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Biast greeted simply, politely.

“Oh, thank god,” Axel unexpectedly said. “Someone much taller than Zeryn.”

Lynus laughed lightly. “He won’t like that.”

Biast flicked his ear in interest, he, too, somewhat bemused by Axel’s response to him. “Hm? Someone quite insufferable about their height?

Lynus sighed deeply. Exasperatedly, really. “Unfortunately. He keeps picking up us smaller and shorter people and coo over us like some baby forest creature. Though, he doesn’t do that to me if Axel is around.” He glanced over at Axel with a small smile. “He got punched once. Quickly learnt his lesson.”

Axel didn’t say anything at first. His eyes simply narrowed protectively as he gazed off into the distance. He then coughed into his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe it would be best to keep Zeryn away from Zoran.” He glanced over at the vessel with curiosity. “Unless you don’t mind being carried around?”

Zoran shook his head cutely. “Biast allows me to sit on his shoulders, so I don’t mind.”

Axel smiled. “Ah, then maybe Zeryn will be happy to have you perched on his shoulder then. Hmm, Chi-hung is likely to take a liken to you, too.”

Zoran tilted his head to the side in question. Nitish walked over to him and crouched down to tell him about the invitation to join Maginia. About the Count and about the Guardian Guild who had agreed to help.

Zoran nodded his head in understanding at Nitish’s explanation. Still, he looked rather…uneasy as he turned to regard Lynus and Axel once more. “Will we be able to join Maginia?”

Lynus blinked in mild confusion. “Hm? Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

“We don’t appear like usual explorers,” Biast was the one to answer with a flick of his ear.

Lynus gazed over at Biast and smiled kindly. “There is no such thing as a usual explorer. If it helps, we have forest inhabitants from Lagaard joining us, too. They’re known as Winged Ones. I’m sure you’ll get alone well.”

His skill at reassuring others was really quite remarkable.

“Excuse me, I best round up the others,” Roxbury suddenly said. “And tell them the news.”

With that said, Roxbury turned and made his way up the stairs and entered the clinic. Ever the protective leader, he wanted to tell everyone together and then offer them the reassurances that Lynus and Axel had offered to him.

“I really wish that Villard would be more considerate,” Lynus suddenly said with a sigh. “At least give the precipitants of his invitation more than a few hours warning. I feel like we’re intruding, honestly.”

“Ah, not at all,” Nitish immediately disagreed. “To you intruding, I mean. Your words of reassurance are greatly appreciated. And it is nice to speak with someone who is part of the exploration.”

Lynus gave him a gentle smile. “I’m relieved to hear that.” He opened his mouth to say more, but suddenly snapped it shut. A wrinkle appeared in his brow and he immediately turned around to look further down the street.

Nitish immediately knew why he reacted in such a way. He had sensed Logre’s aura, too. He had quite the…peculiar presence, after all. Strong, yet vulnerable. Capable, but often feeling like a failure. Even more so now that he had been reunited with Jeroden. Who of which was with Logre currently. Never truly apart for very long.

“Logre, get your ass over here!” Isiah commanded as he usually did when he was dealing with Logre.

“Hm?” Logre uttered as that carefree smile appeared on his lips and he wandered over with Jeroden but a step behind him. “We have guests?”

Isiah nodded his head before he motioned to their new found friends. “Meet Lynus and Axel from the Guardian guild.”

Logre glanced over at the two, his smile faltering ever so slightly when he registered the name of Isiah’s pen-pal. “Your…?” he murmured in surprise as he looked over at Lynus. Who gazed at him in return.

“These two idiots are Logre and Jeroden,” Isiah continued with the introduction. “They’re members of our guild, also.”

Lynus continued to simply gaze at Logre. His violet eyes studying him carefully. He soon placed a smile on his lips and nodded his head in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Logre seemed to be surprisingly…intimidated by the two. By Lynus in particular. He was likely caught off guard by the fact that Isiah’s pen-pal, someone that Isiah himself was quite fond off, was actually visiting Tharsis. “Ah, yes. You, too.”

Lynus smiled at him again before he turned to Isiah. “You certainly grow them tall around these parts,” he joked.

Isiah snorted lightly, which seemed to put Logre at ease. Enough for him to excuse himself and head inside the clinic. Again, with Jeroden behind him. But not until Jeroden made his own greetings to Axel in return. No doubt intrigued by the massive axe he carried so casually.

As Logre waited at the top step for Jeroden, Nitish gentle touched Lynus’ arm to gain his attention. “Their auras are a little startling, aren’t they?” he whispered.

Lynus nodded his head idly. “He…carries a lot of guilt, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Nitish immediately replied.

Lynus’ eyes lingered on Logre. Though his expression was polite, passive, there was obvious concern in his aura. It was maternal, in a way. It was quite obvious that he was drawn to the vulnerability in the auras of others. To help them. Perhaps even dote on them. Give them the attention they need. And deserved.

Perhaps getting away from it all here in Tharsis would be good for everyone. A vacation of sorts. Just for a little while. And, maybe, meeting other explorers, those who knew nothing of what happened here would be a breath of fresh air, too.

And, well, it would be nice to spend some time with another who could read and understand auras like he could.

“Come,” Nitish beckoned toward the steps of the Researcher’s Clinic. “There’s more people to meet.”

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 07: DISHONOUR AMONG THIEVES

QUEST SUMMARY:

Due to his status as the World Guardian, Jahaan wound up as part of Zamorak’s heist team. Their task? Steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske and return its power to Zamorak. Jahaan gets to learn more about a god propaganda had always skewed, but will he be on board with Zamorak’s plan in the end…

CHAPTER 5: WRATH AND RUIN

Moia’s eyes narrowed as she locked onto Sliske’s glittering yellow irises. “Sliske…”

With a dramatic flourish, Sliske flamboyantly gestured around him. “Welcome! How nice to finally have some visitors. Hope you like what I've done with the place. The statues are truly inspired artwork, I think. I recommend having a-”

“Enough of this prattle!” Zemouregal cut in, summoning smoke to his fingertips with malicious intent. “I say we eliminate this vermin before he has the chance to scurry away!”

Hopping backwards, Sliske held his palms outwards and said,  “Ah-ah-ah! How rude of me, I almost forgot to introduce you...”

Shivering slightly, Khazard took a tentative step backwards. “Bilrach... do you sense that?”

“Yes, Khazard, I sense it too,” Bilrach’s fists were clenched, his voice low and eyes darting around him. “Be on your guard.”

Sliske’s smile grew wicked now. “I think it's time for you to meet the other guests.”

From a cloud of smoke, Sliske revealed his latest creations: shadow replicas, clones of the present Zamorakians that nested comfortably in the uncanny valley. They wore the same armour as their counterparts, had the same weapons, but they still seemed… off. Perhaps the sinister air surrounding them was just something that had brushed off from their creator.

“Nomad, meet Nomad!,” Sliske proudly introduced, watching the expressions of confusion and horror from the Zamorakians with twisted glee. “Daquarius, meet Daquarius! Jerrod- well, you get the picture.”

“So this is the result of your twisted experiments in the Shadow Realm,” Bilrach regarded the shadow apparition of himself without amusement.

“What have you done, Sliske?” Khazard demanded, his hand clenched around his sword hilt. The shadow figure of him mimicked the action. “Playing god like this is dangerous - even for you!”

Sliske sneered, “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were scared, Khazard.”

“No!” Khazard barked, too sharply, and it betrayed him. “Surely they are nothing but apparitions, constructs of shadow…”

“Indeed,” Nomad concurred, his resolve more certain. “A nice trick, but nothing more, conjurer.”

“Oh, but they are so much more! You will find them to be quite formidable opponents.”

Jahaan scanned the ranks once, then twice, and noticed an absence. His tone was slightly wary as he inquired, “So where's my one?”

The smirk Sliske gave him made Jahaan wish he had never asked. “Such impatience! Just you wait, I still have an ace up my sleeve for you...”

“We have heard enough of your empty words,” Moia summoned a ball of flames to her palms. “Disciples of chaos, ready yourselves!”

With that, the Zamorakians drew their weapons and readied their spells; their opposites did the same.

Unsurprisingly, Zemouregal was the one to make the first move, blasting Nomad’s double with a bolt of shadow magic. “Ha! Been waiting to do that for a long time.”

Taking it personally, Nomad squared off with Zemouregal’s clone, while the others paired off with their counterparts in a flurry of combat.

Jahaan was about to get stuck into the action too when he felt a force tug him backwards. From the instant chill, he realised he’d been dragged into the Shadow Realm again, the dark tinge his vision he’d acquired confirming this.

He wasn’t alone. This he knew. He could sense a presence. Nay, multiple presences. Those not quite living, not quite dead. These weren’t Sliske, but he was here too, his looming spirit omniscient.

Right in the centre of the room, a platform, holding the Stone of Jas atop it.

Sliske's voice echoed around the cavernous vault. “Welcome to the carnival, Jahaan! It’s been too long, my dear. Now, it’s time for the main act to begin...”

Suddenly, a figure materialised and charged at him, holding two blades akin to his own. Instinctively, Jahaan swung for the apparition, only for it to disappear in a cloud of smoke. Confused, Jahaan held the grip of his swords steady, shuffling backwards. 

It was a whisper of a sound, a ghost of a noise, but there was someone behind him. Slashing around in the area his ears had tweaked, his blades greeted nothing.

Just as he was about to grumble out his frustrations, another figure appeared at his six o’clock. Jahaan rolled out of the way of the crushing sword blow, whipping around with his two blades, expecting not to meet the attacker. But this time, he did. His swords clashed with two blades, similar to his own, but radiating smoke. The opponent holding them was himself. Or, rather, a slightly more contorted version of himself. Pupilless eyes, slightly crooked limbs, like a puppet being held on a loose string. The likeness was revolting, for Jahaan felt like he was looking into the zombified version of himself, entranced and helpless to Sliske’s command.

It also had a hauntingly familiar smile carved into its overly pale face.

“Do you like him?” Sliske’s voice was laced with a malicious chuckle. “It’s such a shame you scarred that pretty face of yours, you know. Such a waste.”

Despite being faced with… himself… Jahaan found that he was on the defensive more often than not, and that every strike he made was countered perfectly. Knowing he was fighting an uphill battle, Jahaan said to himself, This is just a game to Sliske, like everything is. I’ve gotta focus on getting the Stone back into the material realm...

As he sparred, Jahaan edged backwards, closer and closer to the Stone. A blade swung for his neck, but Jahaan ducked in time, managing to use one of his blades to swipe at his opponents shins. Despite being a shadow construct, the counterpart took the hit like he was flesh and blood, and Jahaan capitalised with a slash across the chest with his other blade, only cringing ever so slightly at the sight of causing ‘himself’ such agony.

Not wasting a second, Jahaan dashed up to the Stone’s plinth, finally taking in the awe-inspiring power radiating from the immense artefact up close. It caused his skin to crawl as he felt the energy creep underneath his flesh and into his veins.

Despite guessing that it would be foolish to reach out and touch the godly weapon, Jahaan decided to reach out and touch the godly weapon.

Upon touching the Stone, Jahaan’s mind was cast back through time to witness a memory that was imprinted on the Stone of Jas many years ago, far back towards the end of the Third Age, and to a land once known as Forinthry…

The battlefield was solemn, a haunting wind crying out through the desolate grey sky. Mere minutes beforehand, the place was ablaze with the clashing of swords, the screams of battle, and the rattle of magic. Now, it was eerily quiet, save for the low groaning of the wounded and the unstable pulsing of energy emitting from the Stone of Jas.

Panting, Zamorak was huddled over on the ground, a hand defiantly (albeit desperately) sealed onto the Stone’s surface.

When he blinked through the grit in his eyes, he saw three figures looming over him, though keeping a comfortable distance.

Saradomin, Armadyl and Bandos, side by side.

“You are defeated, Zamorak,” Saradomin announced, barely keeping the smugness from his tone. “Give up the Stone.”

“Never,” Zamorak spat, unsurprised when blood spilt from his lips. “You betrayed me, you bastard! You threw away our alliance the moment your knife could find my back!”

With his words, the Stone’s surface quivered and cracked, energy pounding through it with more vehermence than ever before.

Seeing this, Armadyl pleaded with heavy eyes, “Please, Zamorak. Look at the Stone. Your desperation is causing it to become unstable!”

“Stop squawking, bird,” Bandos grunted, tightening his grip on his large warhammer. “Bandos has destroyed red man’s armies. Now, Bandos finish red man too!”

“There’s a peaceful way out of this for all of us, you barbarian,” Armadyl maintained, softening his tone when he returned his focus to Zamorak. “Please, Zamorak. It does not have to end like this...”

Saradomin’s eyes were on fire, burning holes through Zamorak’s skull. “You cannot reason with this mad dog, Armadyl. He and his forces are devoted to evil above all else.”

“Lies!” Zamorak rebuked, forcefully. “You do not understand… you have never even wanted to fucking TRY and understand! I have risen to power through my own strength and will, and that is how ALL can thrive! You… you little bitch, you’re wretched and weak, just like your pathetic excuse for an ideology. Order leads to stagnation, but chaos leads to innovation, empowerment, FREEDOM!”

Now, the Stone’s pulsing began to cause rifts in the world, quaking the earth surrounding them all, but Zamorak didn’t even seem to notice. Armadyl’s resolve, on the other hand, was about as unsteady as the ground beneath him. He looked over his shoulder to the aviansie army behind him, the fearsome warriors that had followed him from their home world on Abbinah in hopes of finding peace on Gielinor. He had lost a fair few good soldiers in the battle preceding this standoff, and he would weep for them all. However, many were still alive, and thus one thing was repeating inside his mind, clawing fiercely to escape.

“Zamorak, I beg of you - the Stone!” he implored with increased urgency. “You know not what you are doing. You could annihilate Forinthry and all innocent life within!”

“Do you see now?” Saradomin swept a grand gesture behind him. “This is what you truly stand for - the destruction of life. You are nothing but a villain.”

Coughing, Zamorak ignored the blue deities remarks and turned to the others. “Armadyl... Bandos... hear me. Everything I've done was for Gielinor. I seek only to raise up the people of this world.”

But Bandos just laughed. “Ha! The mighty Zamorak, begging on his knees. Pathetic.”

There was a glint in Armadyl’s eyes, however, that indicated he might be reasoned with. “Saradomin, does he speak the truth?”

Quickly, Saradomin dispelled this idea, eager to keep his allies on his side. “Lies, all of it. He is trying to manipulate you. We each allied to bring this wretched criminal to justice. The Stone is rightfully mine!”

This didn’t sit well with Bandos. “Yours? Looks like fair game to Bandos, old man.”

Latching onto this, Zamorak growled, “Saradomin, you only want to rule and control this world with your power, the same as Zaros before you. Stagnation and weakness is all that comes of it.”

“And you believe chaos to be the answer?” Saradomin rebuked. “Would you have this planet ravaged by a never-ending war?!”

“Conflict would be inevitable, yes, but the people of the world would be free. Free to fall and grow, to fail and rebuild-”

“MADNESS!” Saradomin cut in, and by the looks on Armadyl’s on Bandos’ faces, Zamorak knew he had lost them all. Nevertheless, he persisted, “Surely you can see the value of my words, Bandos?”

“They are just words,” Bandos snarled. “Powerless and empty. In another time we might have seen eye-to-eye. You might have been allowed to fight for Bandos.”

Lastly, desperately, he turned to Armadyl. “Armadyl? Come on…”

His eyes wavered, and he looked away from the downed deity. In a regretful tone, Armadyl said, “I am sorry, Zamorak. I cannot allow chaos to engulf this world.”

Sneering with victory, Saradomin declared, “The time has come for you to meet your end, usurper.”

“NO! You are all blind!” Zamorak’s rage began to get the better of him, and the Stone crackled and pulsed in time with his temper, shaking the ground beneath as it started to glow brighter. “None of you are deserving of this power. None of you! If I must meet my end, THEN EACH OF YOU WILL MEET YOURS!”

Jahaan could no longer hear anything, and his vision began to get blurry. Armadyl reached out a hand, Bandos charged forwards, Saradomin raised his Staff, and Zamorak rose to his feet with the power of the elder gods infused into his heart. The world burst into light, and then receded just as quickly into darkness.

When Jahaan opened his eyes, he realised that he and the Stone were back in the material realm. He was still attached to the Stone, and it required some fighting to break free from it. Once he did, he noticed how his entire body was tingling, similarly to how he felt with Zaros inside of him. This time though, the power was much stronger, dizzyingly so. He felt unstable, but at the same time, he felt immortal.

Clenching his fist, he noted how energy was literally sparking from his knuckles. It was intoxicating, and it made him want to fight. The nearest conduit for his adrenaline was the shadow copy of Enakhra; Jahaan didn't even draw his swords as he knew he had the power flowing inside him to channel a magic spell. What spell, though, he wasn’t sure - he had no runes, and Zaros only acted as a substitute for the ancient magicks.

Soon enough, he realised this little conundrum wasn’t going to be an issue as he shot a bolt of pure elder energy out of his palms, so powerful that the Enakhra shadow dissipated upon contact.

Startled, Enakhra spun around to see who had stolen her kill. Grey eyes sparkled with shock horror when they met Jahaan’s green ones, seeing the fire dancing inside them and the magic wrapping around his palm.

However, Jahaan realised that the attack had used up a lot of the power he’d taken from the Stone. Knowing the magic was fleeting, he thought to pick his next target more wisely. Zemouregal's shadow was long since dead, as was Nomad’s and Khazard’s. The aforementioned had spread themselves around to take out the remaining shadow’s of their comrades. Only Lord Daquarius fought alone, sparring with a mirror image of himself. Jahaan sprinted over, gathering the magic to his fingertips, but a lighter blast this time - overkill was not necessary. The amount definitely proved to be effective as Lord Daquarius’ shadow went down without a second thought.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bulky figure running towards the Stone. Clearly he wasn’t the only one to see it as a female voice called out, “Nomad, stop!”

Instinctively, Jahaan whipped around and fired a bolt of energy towards the charging Nomad. It caught his back and shoved him forwards, onto his knees.

“You dare stop me from realising my destiny?!” he bellowed, picking himself up and changing the grip on his spear so it was as if he was holding a javelin. “Only I am worthy of the Stone's power! Foolish human. I should have finished you long ago!”

Swiftly dodging to the side, Jahaan missed the spear’s deadly tip by a literal hair’s length - he felt it cut through his dreadlocks - and retaliated by slipping his dagger from the sheath at his back and launching it towards Nomad, slicing into the soul mage’s fingers.

Roaring in pain, Nomad clutched his left hand, watching helplessly as blood poured from where his index finger used to be. It’d been sliced clean off from just above the top joint, and his middle finger had also lost the tip. Seeing he was outnumbered and losing blood fast, Nomad caved and teleported away, a harsh curse thrown in Jahaan’s direction for good measure.

Once he left, another figure emerged, fading in under the glow of fire and shadow.

Zamorak had arrived.

He wordlessly nodded to his followers, then to Jahaan, before turning his attention to the Stone. Eyes full of hunger, he strode up, examining the glowing and crackling specimen for only a fleeting moment before he placed a grey claw upon its surface. Reeling back, Zamorak began to shake, his body convulsing as energy surged through his veins.

It was at that moment Sliske revealed himself once more. All the Zamorakians were so focused on the spectacle of Zamorak absorbing the Stone’s power that they didn’t notice the snake’s arrival, but Jahaan did. He didn’t have time to act, or even call out, before Sliske began to move, disappearing back into the shadows. His movements were quick, his appearances fleeting; he appeared in front Khazard first, thrust a palm into the Mahjarrat’s stomach and chest, and then vanished once more before reappearing in front of a new target. Whoever he touched was left paralysed, limbs frozen and stiff as a flurry of shadows engulfed them. Jahaan, however, had been spared, and could only watch in amazement and horror as Sliske effortlessly worked his way through the Zamorakians.

By the time Zamorak noticed, all his followers were incapacitated. Growling, Zamorak removed his hand from the Stone, staring daggers through Sliske when he manifested opposite him. The fury in the deity’s eyes could burn castles to the ground, yet Sliske seemed unphased, or at least that’s the facade he wore.

“So, the serpent finally rears its ugly head,” Zamorak spat, his fists clenched into tight balls as the elder energy flowed between his fingers.

“Ah, good ol' Zammy,” Sliske cheered in response. His smile dripped from his lips like acid. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Release my followers or you will leave here in a FUCKING BUCKET.”

Tutting, Sliske’s smile grew into a wicked grin. “Careful, I could disappear into the shadows with the Stone faster than you could say 'Saradomin'.”

Zamorak stance was proud, solid, immovable. “You better watch that tone of yours," he threatened with a hiss. "I'll rip your tongue out with my bare hands for all the shit it's caused."

Sliske’s stance, on the other hand, was hunched, casual, his hands wringing together incessantly. “Oh, come now, we have so much in common! There was a time when we stood side by side, many lifetimes ago.”

“We’re nothing alike, Blasckum.”

At this, Sliske roared with laughter. “Such colourful language! Do be careful - there are humans present, after all. And to use such harsh words against one of your brothers!”

“We’re not brothers anymore,” Zamorak maintained, his voice cold and chilling.

“Oh but we were!” Sliske maintained, his voice cheery but his eyes emotionless. “Back in the good old days of the Zarosian Empire. Did we not work together then, Legatus? Until you stabbed Zaros in the back, that is.”

Sliske leaned in a little closer, his voice lower and more calculating as he revealed, “Tell me, Zammy - do you really think that the Praefectus Praetorio was unaware of your plot against the Empty Lord?”

Zamorak paused, hesitant, carefully trying to read Sliske. “...bullshit.”

This elicited a grin from Sliske. “Why would I lie about this? The old society was oh so boring. Everyone being watched, afraid to put a foot out of line. Your development of this 'chaos' ideology was a breath of fresh air. Honourable intentions certainly, but it was the results that had me intrigued.”

“Chaos is not a game where you can pull the strings,” Zamorak asserted. “Only an arrogant Zarosian would believe they could play puppet master.”

“Yes, I suppose that is where we differ,” Sliske sighed. “But ask yourself, do the motivations really matter when the goal is the same?”

“You're no ally of mine, you damn snake. Fuck off back to the shadows where you came from. The Stone belongs to me now.”

Erupting with cackling laughter, Sliske countered, “Ally? Oh Zammy dear, I fear I have misled you. You know better than to think me so… unambitious. You may have reached the Stone, yes. It was truly amusing to watch your minions play my games. But to believe it is in your possession? Well…”

“I’ve already drawn power from it, regardless of your empty words,” Zamorak replied. “Even now my energy increases. It’s about time I finally shut you up for good.”

“Ah yes, you can feel the energy coursing through your veins. You are addicted, just like Saradomin is, just like Lucien was,” Sliske raised his eyebrows, his tone lighter as he finished, “And now I am too.”

Crinkling his brow, Jahaan had been silent thus far, watching the events unfold with baited breath, but finally he piped up, “What do you mean ‘addicted’?”

Sliske turned slightly towards Jahaan, keeping one beady yellow iris on Zamorak at all times. “Can't you see? Everyone who has ever touched the Stone has sacrificed everything in order to keep it in their grasp. The energy withheld in the Stone is not from this world, and the feeling of absorbing it is incomparable. I am not so clouded by pride that I would deceive myself.”

“You speak only of your own addiction,” Zamorak declared, “The Stone is nothing but a tool, a necessity if I am to free this world from the other gods.”

“Fool yourself all you like, Zamorak,” Sliske’s wicked, all-knowing smirk was back. “I know the truth.”

Considering this, Jahaan evaluated the feeling he had when he touched the Stone, and easily could see how one would become addicted to such an immense feeling of power. Then again, he already felt the power depleting oh-so quickly, and with it, his lust for the Stone did not remain. Hesitantly, he asked, “What about me? I touched the Stone after all.”

“Hmm… It would seem being the World Guardian is a double-edged sword,” Sliske replied. “You may not be harmed by the gods, but you are also unable to absorb divine energy. Good old Guthix gave you a blessing - and a curse. You do seem to be quite handy at channeling the Stone's power temporarily, though. Addiction may not be your downfall, no, but power so often corrupts the heart and mind.”

“Enough of this chatter,” Zamorak hissed, a small storm brewing around his palms. “You’re done here, Sliske. And I mean for good.”

Finally, Sliske’s calm demeanour dropped, and he looked slightly worried now. Jahaan could have sworn he saw the Mahjarrat gulp. From the corner of his eyes, Sliske locked his glare onto Jahaan, his tone absent of all joviality as he stated, “Jahaan, I have afforded you the opportunity to influence history. Choose wisely.”

The gravity of Sliske’s words sunk in instantly. He saw Zamorak begin to channel a spell, and Sliske just standing there, waiting, somewhat nervously. Why isn’t he moving?! Why isn’t he trying to defend himself?!

It was like the world was moving in slow motion, like everything was underwater.

Jahaan thought the choice was obvious. He had some of the Stone’s energy inside him still, and if he helped channel a spell at Sliske alongside Zamorak, then perhaps it would mean an end to all his games, his charades, his war and insanity. The shadow that had loomed over Jahaan’s life for so long would be gone, and he’d be free from the wretched puppeteer.

But as quickly as those thoughts crossed his mind, so did their counterparts. Should Zamorak really have the Stone? And it wouldn’t just be him having that power, it’d be all his followers. Zemouregal, Khazard and Enakhra… all of them would have even more power and influence over this world. One of them would be bound to follow in Lucien’s power-hungry footsteps. And I’d also be making enemies of Azzanadra, Wahisietel and Zaros… ah, FUCK.

Not allowing himself to think twice, Jahaan fought back his hesitation and channelled all the remaining power within him.

Just as Zamorak was about to strike, Jahaan cut in, hurling elder energy into the deity’s chest. It winded him, but didn’t have a lasting effect. Confused, Zamorak’s betrayed and fiery glare settled upon Jahaan, and he readied a retaliatory strike. Edging backwards, Jahaan suddenly regretted all of his life choices. Luckily, before Zamorak could strike, he was yanked into the Shadow Realm and teleported away.

When Jahaan opened his eyes, he recognised the blurry outline of the Empyrean Citadel wavering around him, cloaked in shadow and mist. The Stone, too, was beside him. As he caught his breath and tried to still his rapid heartbeat, Sliske’s laughter echoed around him. 

“Good show, Janny! You really did leave it until the most dramatic moment to upstage poor old Zammy. Needed a little help from yours truly, of course, but impressive nonetheless.”

Jahaan looked up and into the smirking, smug face of Sliske, and again regretted his life choices. “I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t want the Zamorakians having the Stone. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

“Ignoring that hurtful remark,” Sliske grinned. “I must know - what did Zammy offer you to become his lackey, hm?”

Too tired to think of a suitable rebuttal, Jahaan just sighed, taking a seat on one of the statue plinths. His eyes wandered about the Citadel. “He didn’t offer me anything. I liked his ideology; it makes a lot of sense, it’s practical... I didn’t mind going along for the ride, for a while. But I guess I can strike Zamorak off my Wintumber Festival card list…”

“Ah yes, Zamorak will certainly regret bringing you along,” Sliske smiled wryly. “Now, I have much to do, and as much as I enjoy your company, I think it’s time we parted ways. Do enjoy the scenery up here, though. I often admire the sunrise from such a view.”

Sliske placed a gloved palm atop Jahaan’s shoulder as he said, “Until the next time, darling…”

Within a blink, Jahaan was back in the material realm. It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the blinding sunlight that was pouring into the Empyrean Citadel.

Peering over the edge into the clouds below, Jahaan rolled his eyes. Fantastic. Couldn’t have transported me anywhere more convenient, Sliske?

Luckily, he remembered the invitation box he’d kept after Sliske’s ascendency ceremony and hurriedly removed it from his backpack. With a deep exhale, he readied himself, opened the box, and was whisked away to the forest north of Ardougne.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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Chapter 2

Blending into the New Dimension

After that whole fiasco of waking up, passing out, then waking up once again, only to pass out again, then finally waking up and being able to stay awake, the Hokage (bless his heart) had allowed you to stay with him.

You had a small room to yourself, a couple of belongings that he had given you, such as clothes, a bed and a couple of small bits and pieces, and most importantly of all, your privacy. You lay, slumped on the comfy bed, staring angrily at the small black handbook. Unsurprisingly, step 3 of chapter 1 was 'Finding a Place to Stay.' 

Step 3 - Finding a Place to Stay

This will, most likely, be the hardest step to complete. Finding a place to stay is often difficult due to the fact that you are an anomaly. However, the best people to ask for a place to stay are in fact, no offence, old and single people. Especially women.

If you appeal to the motherly or fatherly side of people, you will increase your probability of surviving and therefore the success of your mission to saving valuable lives.

If you are without parental figures, or a guardian, in this new world it is probably best to befriend a few of the popular locals. This is mainly to create a bond between you and the place in which you have been dropped off at. Undoubtedly, you will get attached and most likely refer to them as your parental figures the longer you stay, but it is nicer to come back to a warm bed and friendly faces, than a cold house. Just a tip, by the way.

Handy Tip #4: If possible, try to find a temporary guardian who is not essential to the plot, as you may put them into danger just for harbouring a stranger.

Handy Tip #5: Find a temporary guardian who won't ask too many questions about your past, what you know etc.

You growled angrily, before grabbing your pillow and screaming into it. After letting out your pent up anger at your so called 'guardian angel' you returned to the notebook to quickly read through chapter 2: 'Blending Into your New Dimension'.

Step 4 - Assimilate the Culture

Take some time to learn about the cultural differences between this new world and the one you were previously in. It will take some time but by doing so, you can 'blend' into the crowd and not (as some people say) stick out like a sore thumb. Try to learn the culture from mature people/beings, it will help you understand what is acceptable and what is not, making your reputation credible and as a result, statements you will say in the future will be believable and trusted.

To do this, observe the every day lives of a few locals and try to pick up some slang that is appropriate for your age.

Handy Tip #6: Try to befriend the 'protagonist', i.e. the main character of the dimension you are in. Not only will you learn the culture quickly, but you will also be on good terms with the winning side and therefore have, "plot armour".

Note: Observing does not mean stalking.

Step three sounded easy enough, but step 4 made you want to rip out all the hair on your head, make a wig out of all that hair, then rip it out once again. You, a responsible 18 year old adult, have to be friends with an annoying 12 year old child?!

You glared at your reflection in the mirror, as one thing that Dara [you had revoked your guardian angel's right of formalities and respect] forgot to mention was that you had to live out the rest of the timeline starting from the age of 12. Which just means, that not only would you have to experience the beauty of puberty again, but you would have to deal with a bunch of other kids, who had not experienced puberty, experience puberty for the first time.

The sound of your door bursting open and a small child screaming, "I have you where I want you!"  Which was promptly followed by your body being tackled to the floor by an 8 year old boy. You sighed, as Konohamaru began laughing as he stood over your limp body.

You regretted not watching at least 10 episodes of Naruto when your friend had shown you the first episode. Heck, they would be laughing at your predicament right now, probably mocking you by cackling, 'Look at who's laughing now, [f.name]! Look at who's 'meaningless' hobby is suddenly super important!'

On the upside, one could call Konohamaru [the Hokage's grandson] your minion. Strangely, Konohamaru had taken an instant liking to you, following you everywhere (when possible) and trying to teach you the customs of Konoha. In return, you thought of him as a younger brother who you would kill and seriously maim people for.

Konohamaru was quiet, confused at your still body, edging closer bit by bit until he was close enough to poke you in the face with his finger. "Hey, [f.name]?"

As quick as lightening, well as quickly as your 'frail' 12 year old body would allow you, you leapt forth at Konohamaru with a playful growl. Instantly, he let out a loud squeal, giggling as you scooped him up in your arms. "Who has come forth? Who demands to speak to the beast?" You growled out, channelling your best lion-from-the-cave-of-wonders-in-Aladdin impression, squishing Konohamaru's cheeks playfully between your hands, as he laughed and squirmed in your grip.

Wriggling his way out of your hold, Konohamaru sprinted out of your room, laughing the entire time. Chuckling quietly, you shoved the small notebook safely into your pouch and chased after him, making weird dinosaur noises all the while.

        "Sir, can we really trust this [l.name] girl?"

The Hokage stared at Iruka blankly before replying, "I don't see why not?" 

Iruka looked baffled, his eyes wide, before he managed to stutter a comprehensible answer, "W-well, she could be a spy? Or even worse, a human weapon?!"

The Hokage lay one hand reassuringly onto Iruka's shoulder, "I know about your fears, but I need you to trust me when I say, she poses no harm for Konoha and its people. In fact, I truly believe she will be a formidable Shinobi."

Iruka only gave the Hokage a grim smile. Before jolting quickly as he realised, "Wait, Sir! Shinobi! Are you going to train her to be a Shinobi?! All the teams have already been finalised and they've already gone on their first few mission!"

Chuckling, the Hokage merely nodded his head, "Don't worry, Iruka. I know what I'm doing, she'll be ready to join a team, and I think I know which one I have in mind."

Dear Diary To Bob this weak-ass journal that I've decided to keep so I know that I won't go insane,

A few months have passed since I first came to this dimension. I found out I had a knack for fire-bending, or as good-old Gramps said, "Your chakra nature seems to be fire," whatever that means.

Gramps (something that I referred to the Hokage as since I decided that he would be my adopted guardian in this universe) had an Anbu member train me on simple hand to hand combat, weapon handling, as well as some simple jutsus. Jutsus which I immediately forgot right after the poor Anbu taught me. Sorry, but it's just takes too much time to remember those hand symbols. Also, I couldn't really do those jutsus anyway, so who cares.

And, if I was to be honest with the characters, I spent way too much time trying to be as cool as Azula or Toph from the TV series for someone who was trying to catch up to the other kids. 

My fire-bending skills was passable, my earth-bending tolerable, my water-bending skills were kind of there, and my air-bending skills were completely non-existent (which was pretty dumb considering that the main character of the fucking TV show was an air-bender, but whatever). Dara comes to speak with me in my dreams, which is a little weird, at least she's telling me how to control these weird-bending powers, Toph made earth-bending look so easy.

Konohamaru had shown me around the town and introduced me a few nice people in return for the stories I keep telling him. It won't be long before I run out of Disney plots to talk about. Other than that, I kept eating out at this ramen place which will not only put a dent in my wallet but also my health, something I'm not ashamed of, by the way. It's not my fault that their food is so god dang delicious. I also learnt a few customs, like how it's apparently "offensive" to fling oneself out of windows in the hope that I can air-bend.

Anyway, haven't met the main character yet, but I found that the notebook also has pages on the synopsis of this show in the back, so guess who's becoming a fortune teller?

I am, bitch.

Talking about the future, and the main character, the Hokage said he was going to have me skip the "graduation exam" (which sounds very important) and chuck me onto a team already. I'm supposed to meet them later today, so hopefully they all turn out to be, at the very least, tolerable, and considering my situation they'll probably be the main characters too.

Great.

Sighing, I closed the small journal that I was given by the Hokage and promptly hid it in the underwear drawer of my dresser. I cannot deny that I have gotten used to this new life of mine, training and learning new things every day. Amazingly, I haven't gotten anyone killed or seriously injured yet, which is probably a testament of my ability to not give a single fuck, but who knows?

Getting up and stretching my legs slowly, I wondered out of my room and found myself face to face with good-ol' gramps.

"Are you ready to meet them, [f.name]?" 

Air-bending skills: 3.4 out of 10

Number of fucks given: At least 1

Probability of survival: 87.63%

[countrymadefoods]

Seven Lucky Gods

“In Japanese mythology, the Seven Lucky Gods or Seven Gods of Fortune are believed to grant good luck and often have their place in netsuke engravings or in other representations...but gradually became much closer canonical figures for certain professions and Japanese arts. During the course of its history, the mutual influence between gods has created confusion about which of them was the patron of certain professions. The worship of this group of gods is also due to the importance of the number seven in Japan, which is supposedly a bearer of good luck.”

”The Seven Gods of Fortune started being mentioned as a collective in the year 1420 in Fushimi...the Buddhist priest Tenkai selected these gods after speaking with the shōgun he served, Iemitsu Tokugawa, at the order of seeking whoever possessed the perfect virtues: longevity, fortune, popularity, sincerity, kindness, dignity, and magnanimity.

From the period of the gods Izanami and Izanagi, Ebisu is the only one whose origins are purely Japanese. He is the god of prosperity and wealth in business, and of plenitude and abundance in crops, cereals and food in general. He is the patron of fishermen.”

“Daikokuten... is the god of commerce and prosperity. There are other characteristics which have also been attributed to him, such as being the patron of cooks, farmers, bankers, and protector of crops. Curiously, he is also considered a demon hunter.

Bishamonten's origins can be traced back to Hinduism, but he has been adapted by the Japanese culture. He comes from the Hindu god Kubera and is...the god of fortune in war and battles, also associated with authority and dignity. He is the protector of those who follow the rules and behave appropriately. As the patron of fighters, he is represented dressed in armour and a helmet.”

“Benzaiten's origin is found in Hinduism, as she comes from the Hindu goddess Saraswati. While being the only female Fukujin in the modern grouping of seven Fukujin...she was adapted from Buddhism, she was given the attributes of financial fortune, talent, beauty and music among others...She is represented as a smart, beautiful woman...She is the patron of artists, writers, dancers, and geisha, among others.

Juroujin is the god of the elderly and longevity in Japanese Buddhist mythology. It is said that the legendary Juroujin is based on a real person who lived in ancient times...he is represented with a long white beard, riding a deer and is often also accompanied by a 1500 year old crane and a tortoise, as symbols of his affinity with long lives. In addition, he is usually represented under a peach tree...In his hand he holds a cane and a book or a scroll. The wisdom of the world remains written in its pages. Jurojin enjoys rice and wine, and is a very cheerful figure.”

“Hotei is the god of fortune, guardian of the children, patron of diviners and barmen, and also the god of popularity. He is depicted as a fat, smiling, bald man with a curly moustache. He always appears half naked...He carries a bag on his shoulders which is, according to the beliefs, loaded with fortunes for those who believe in his virtues. Hotei's traits and virtue are contentment, magnanimous and happiness.

The god Fukurokuju...has his origins in China...He is the god of wisdom, luck, longevity, wealth and happiness. This god receives certain credits, such as being one of the Chinese philosophers who could live without eating (breatharian)...He normally carries a cane in one hand and in the other a scroll with writings about the world. He is usually accompanied by a turtle, a crow or a deer, animals that are frequently used in Japan to symbolize a long life. It is also said that he likes to play chess, and so he is also credited for being the patron of chess players.”

“Kichijōten, a Fukujin goddess is also known as Kisshōten or Kisshoutennyo, and is adapted via Buddhism from the Hindu goddess Lakshmi. Kisshōten was given the traits beauty, happiness and fertility...Kichijōten replaces Fukurokuju as one of the seven Fukujin.”

Kisshōten

“She is considered to be the goddess of happiness, fertility, and beauty. Kisshoutennyo's iconography is distinguished by the Nyoihōju gem in her hand. When Kisshoutennyo is counted among the seven fukujin and fellow fukujin Daikoku is regarded in feminine form, all three of the Hindu Tridevi goddesses are represented in the fukujin.”

Cintamani

“Cintāmaṇi, also spelled as Chintamani (or the Chintamani Stone), is a wish-fulfilling jewel within both Hindu and Buddhist traditions, said by some to be the equivalent of the philosopher's stone in Western alchemy. It is one of several Mani Jewel images found in Buddhist scripture.”

“In Buddhism it is held by the Bodhisattvas (divine beings with great compassion, wisdom and power) Avalokiteshvara and Ksitigarbha...By reciting the Dharani (small hymn) of Cintamani, Buddhist tradition maintains that one attains the Wisdom of Buddha, able to understand the truth of the Buddha, and turn afflictions into Bodhi...In Buddhism the Chintamani is said to be one of four relics that came in a chest that fell from the sky...The Kintamani mountainous region in Bali was named after the Cintamani.”

“A maṇi-jewel; magical jewel, which manifests whatever one wishes for. According to one's desires, treasures, clothing and food can be manifested, while sickness and suffering can be removed, water can be purified, etc. It is a metaphor for the teachings and virtues of the Buddha...Said to be obtained from the dragon-king of the sea, or the head of the great fish, Makara, or the relics of a Buddha.”

Philosopher's stone

“The philosopher's stone, or stone of the philosophers is a legendary alchemical substance capable of turning base metals such as mercury into gold (chrysopoeia, from the Greek χρυσός khrusos, "gold", and ποιεῖν poiēin, "to make") or silver. It is also called the elixir of life, useful for rejuvenation and for achieving immortality; for many centuries, it was the most sought goal in alchemy. The philosopher's stone was the central symbol of the mystical terminology of alchemy, symbolizing perfection at its finest, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss. Efforts to discover the philosopher's stone were known as the Magnum Opus ("Great Work"). “

Maki-e

“Maki-e (literally: sprinkled picture) is Japanese lacquer sprinkled with gold or silver powder as a decoration using a makizutsu or a kebo brush. The oldest Maki-e in existence now is the ornamentation on the sheath of the Kara-tachi sword with gilded silver fittings and inlay in Togidashi technique held by Shōsōin in Nara, Japan...The technique was developed mainly in the Heian period (794–1185) and blossomed in the Edo period (1603–1868). Maki-e objects were initially designed as household items for court nobles; they soon gained more popularity and were adopted by royal families and military leaders as a symbol of power.”

”Takamakie (or "raised maki-e") is one of the three major techniques in maki-e making. Developed in the Muromachi period (1336–1573), the technique of takamakie involves building up design patterns above the surface through a mixture of metal powder, lacquer, and charcoal or clay dust. Another special kind of maki-e is togidashi maki-e, where a black lacquer without oil is put on the metal decoration as an additional coat.”

Kintsugi

“Kintsugi  "golden joinery", also known as Kintsukuroi  "golden repair", is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.”

[A]t some point kintsugi may have been combined with maki-e as a replacement for other ceramic repair techniques...One theory is that kintsugi may have originated when Japanese shōgun Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a damaged Chinese tea bowl back to China for repairs in the late 15th century. When it was returned, repaired with ugly metal staples, it may have prompted Japanese craftsmen to look for a more aesthetic means of repair.”

“Staple repair...where small holes are drilled on either side of a crack and metal staples are bent to hold the pieces together. Staple repair was used in Europe (in ancient Greece, England and Russia among others) and China as a repair technique for particularly valuable pieces.

Kintsugi is the general concept of highlighting or emphasizing imperfections, visualizing mends and seams as an additive or an area to celebrate or focus on, rather than absence or missing pieces. Modern artists experiment with the ancient technique as a means of analyzing the idea of loss, synthesis, and improvement through destruction and repair or rebirth.”

Kintsugi: why you should embrace your imperfections the Japanese way

“In Japan, kintsugi is the ancient art of repairing what has been broken...The revitalised ceramic becomes a symbol of fragility, strength and beauty. But now, kintsugi, which translates as “golden joinery”, is the latest lifestyle trend promising to transform our lives. Beyond its interior decorating roots, it can be seen as a metaphor for life.”

“Ceramics are fragile, strong and beautiful all at once, just like people...Ceramics and life can break apart into a thousand pieces, but not for that reason should we stop living intensely.”

It’s all about healing our emotional wounds and rebuilding our lives, becoming stronger in the process. The first step to living a kintsugi life...is to not be scared of taking risks and getting damaged.”

“Do not try to live a pleasant life without suffering, because if you do you will be resigning yourself to surviving instead of living intensely”...It is unrealistic to expect life will always be wonderful. It’s inevitable that, even when taking the utmost care, fragile things, such as our favourite mug, will occasionally break. Likewise, we all suffer illness, tragedy and the loss of loved ones.

[W]hen challenging times happen, we can apply kintsugi. Instead of sweeping our problems under the metaphorical carpet, we can put ourselves back together in a way that embraces the challenges we have faced as part of our life’s journey, while acknowledging that it is our scars that make us strong and interesting people...If we don’t properly take time to repair and reflect on life’s challenges, we are at risk of miring ourselves in self-pity and victimisation.

“When we are immersed in a creative process, we adopt a new perspective that allows us to analyse the pain that we’ve suffered, and transform it into something beautiful.”

(via Kintsugi: why you should embrace your imperfections the Japanese way)

Make the new you a better you

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places." These words are often attributed to the American writer Ernest Hemingway.In fact, he said something a little different and meant something entirely different.

The underlying principles of kintsugi are twofold. First, the fact that something has been broken does not necessarily make it worthless or even any less valuable. Second, cracks and breaks are part of the unique history of an object and are best highlighted rather than disguised, celebrated rather than deplored.”

”If this sounds odd, imagine that you have a beautiful vase that has been in your family for generations. One day, your baby gets [their] hands on it and smashes it into a dozen pieces. What can you do?

Well, you can throw away the broken pieces, and lose the beauty and history of the vase forever. Or you can repair it the kintsugi way, enhance its beauty and have a permanent and touching reminder of your [baby]'s childhood. In kintsugi, every golden seam is a commemoration and celebration of an object's history.”

”When we were young, we cherished the notion of leading perfect lives one day. We saw ourselves accomplishing beautiful things and enjoying wonderful relationships. But, as time passes, our hopes and dreams get cracked or shattered. Does this strike a chord with you?

If so, look back upon your life. Think of the heartaches and disappointments you have suffered, and the heartaches and disappointments you have caused. Nothing can change things. The question is, what will you do about it? Will you bemoan and regret it, and regard yourself as inferior goods? Or will you accept it as part of your history, learn from it and move on?”

”The new you may be cracked and broken. But even so, with a kintsugi attitude, you can make the new you a better you. As Epictetus wrote: "Don't demand or expect that events happen as you would wish them to. Accept events as they actually happened. That way, peace is possible."

(via Make the new you a better you | The Straits Times)

The Japanese art principle that teaches how to work with failure

“Like a favorite cup or plate, people sometimes crack. We may even break.Obviously, we cannot and ought not throw ourselves away when this happens. Instead, we can relish the blemishes and learn to turn these scars into art—like kintsugi, an ancient Japanese practice that beautifies broken pottery...They call attention to the lines made by time and rough use; these aren’t a source of shame. This practice—also known as kintsukuroi, which literally means gold mending—emphasizes the beauty and utility of breaks and imperfections. It turns a problem into a plus.

You probably don’t expect other people to be perfect. You may in fact appreciate when people expose their vulnerabilities, show old wounds or admit errors. It’s evidence that we’re all infallible, that we heal and grow, that we survive blows to the ego or to our reputations or health and can live to tell the tale. Exposing vulnerabilities by admitting error creates intimacy and trust in relationships, and fosters forgiveness.”

“Psychologists call this distinction “beautiful mess effect.” We see other people’s honesty about their flaws as positive, but we consider admitting to our own failures much more problematic...this tendency stems from the fact that we understand other people’s experiences abstractly yet see our own concretely. We feel the things that happen to us viscerally and physically. What happens to others, however, functions more like an instructive tale, because the pain of failure isn’t our own and the distance gives us perspective. We all understand in theory that bad things happen. But we also feel really bad when they happen to us, and condemn ourselves.”

”In a series of seven tests, researchers demonstrated this self–other difference applies when subjects evaluate the effect of exposing vulnerability in various situations, including admitting errors and discussing bodily “imperfections.”

 “Vulnerability is courage in you and inadequacy in me”

“It’s absurd to be embarrassed about missteps and failures in our lives because they happen to everyone, and no experience is wasted. Everything you do—good, bad, and ugly—can serve as a lesson, even if it’s one you would never want to repeat again. Indeed, errors can be the most important and effective experiences of all.  Things fall apart. That’s life. But if you’re wise, you can use every scrap, patch yourself up, and keep going. That’s the essence of resourcefulness.”

“Likewise, the physical evidence of existence that accumulates over time and a life well-lived can be a source of pride rather than shame. We don’t have to try to look young and flawless, like we’re all brand-new products manufactured for Instagram.”

“Our aesthetic judgments based upon perfection and imperfection almost invariably have consequences that affect the quality of life, the social and political climate of a society, and the state of the world”

“When we expect everything and everyone to be perfect, including ourselves, we not only discount much of what is beautiful but we create a cruel world where resources are wasted, people’s positive qualities are overlooked in favor of their flaws, and our standards become impossibly limiting, restrictive, and unhealthy.”

”The kintsugi approach instead makes the most of what already is, highlights the beauty of what we do have, flaws and all, rather than leaving us eternally grasping for more, different, other, better...In other words, the experiences you have, and the person you already are, suffice. You may, of course, occasionally chip and break and need repairs. And that’s fine.”

(via The Japanese art principle that teaches how to work with failure | Quartz)

[littleshebear]

Forgotten First Meeting + Fake Dating (random hates me): Steelponcho

Okay, this was an AU ask and this isn’t exactly an AU but the ideas this prompt gave me were too cute to pass up. So I ended up writing an actual fic. Set some time between Vanguard Discipline (NSFW LINK) and Battlegrounds. Hawthorne and Zavala have a ‘meeting’ which may or may not be a date. Zavala has a sense of fun! Hawthorne drops a clanger! Izanami knows what’s up!

SFW | Fluff | Romance |Humour | Pre-relationship | Zavala x Hawthorne | 

By rights, the restaurant shouldn’t have been re-opened yet. One wall was missing, black scorch marks on the floor telling the tale of the Red Legion blast that had blown it away. The furniture was mismatched; some of it original but much of it had been padded out with pieces scavenged from other sources. The owners had done their best to dress the space up by bringing in potted plants and hanging strings of fairy lights around the room. The effect was oddly charming and Hawthorne was surprised that Zavala would pick somewhere with such a bohemian flavour for their meeting.

Hawthorne picked at her food and looked around at some of the other patrons in the restaurant while Zavala opined, something about City, about how devolving responsibility to autonomous cells reflected something in the Vanguard strategies for something, something, City. She caught people making furtive glances at them, some who were outwardly staring only to suddenly become very interested in their own meals when they realised she was staring back. She sighed, picked up her glass and quaffed her wine as though it were water then finally picked up on what Zavala was saying.

“So yes, I was thinking of reshading my armour hot pink and Shaxx mentioned that he was replacing the objective in Rift matches with a piñata containing pure arc energy���”

Hawthorne frowned in confusion and said, “What?” Zavala responded with an elegantly arched eyebrow. “Oh. I…I’m really sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“Evidently,” He said, picking up the wine bottle to top up her glass. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just,” she tailed off, her eyes darting to the side again. “People are looking at us.”

“So?” He shrugged. “Let them look.”

“So…I don’t know…” She cass her gaze around the restaurant, taking in the strings of lights, the delicately prepared food, the candle in the centre of the table. She leant forward and looked him in the eye. “Is this a date?”

Zavala just stared back for a moment. “No. This is work. I just thought this would be more pleasant for you than an office or board room.”

“It kinda feels like a date.”

“If I had intended for this to be a date, I would have told you.” He folded his hands on the table and looked at her seriously. “Would you like it to be?”

Hawthorne froze, just staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Uhm, I don’t know,” She stammered and suddenly became very aware that the colour in her cheeks probably matched the hue of  the rosé that Zavala started topping her glass up with. “I’ve never really, I mean, uhm…”

“Take your time,” Hawthorne waited for him to finish pouring the wine then drank gratefully.

“I guess,” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “It could be interesting, I never really did the dating thing before. Never got along that well with the people I went to school with, then I went off into the Wilds and that’s not really the best set-up for long-term relationships, so…” She shrugged. “That’s it. Never bothered with it.”

“Being Vanguard Commander isn’t exactly conducive to long-term relationships either.” Hawthorne, watched him carefully, wondering if there wasn’t some disappointment creeping into that usually steady baritone of his. “Let’s play a game.”

“Say what now?”

“How would a date go if I weren’t a Vanguard Commander you weren’t a rebellious survivalist?”

Hawthorne frowned, considering the proposition. “You mean like a pretend date? What for?”

“For fun,” he said, the seriousness of his voice belying what he’d just said.

Hawthorne gasped. “You said the ‘F’ word,” she breathed in a scandalised whisper.

“It does happen occasionally. Once every century or so,” Zavala replied, still so matter of fact.

Hawthorne shrugged and said, “Okay. Why not?” She reasoned that a pretend date was a much safer option than a real one. “So, we just met, right?”

“Correct.”

“So,” she picked up her wine glass, “Tell me about yourself, what do you do?”

“I’m a librarian.”

Hawthorne responded with a decidedly unlady-like snort into her wine. “A librarian?” She coughed, trying to compose herself. “How is that, do you like it?”

“I love it. The peace and quiet. Surrounded by books.” He sighed happily, “And the organisation…”

“I’ve never seen anyone get so misty-eyed over the Dewey Decimal System before.”

“It’s good to take pride in one’s work. What about you?”

A brief silence ensued while Suraya considered what path her life might have taken if she hadn’t left the City. She eventually answered in an emphatic, even voice. “A veterinarian.”

“Really?” Zavala cocked his head.  “What made you want to do that?”

“It lets me use my brain, it’s useful and…” She stopped short of saying, it’s not what my parents would have chosen for me. “Animals are better than people.”

Zavala laced his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands. “Should I be offended by that?”

Suraya laughed, “No, an individual person can be all right, but People? As an entity?” She glanced around the restaurant. The other diners were still surreptitiously watching them, probably intrigued by the idea of the oh so stoic Vanguard Commander reducing the new Clan coordinator to fits of giggles. She started counting off with her fingers, “They’re stupid. They’re nosy. They’re obsessed with status and possessions. And they’re noisy.”

“Oh they’re not as bad as all that, surely? I read somewhere, I read a lot, because as I mentioned,” he paused for effect, “I’m a librarian.”

Suraya bunched her fist and hid her smile behind it. “Mm-hm? What did you read?”

“It’s often assumed that humans are inherently selfish but it turns out that in times of crisis, they don’t turn on each other, they cooperate. That suggests People, as an entity, are naturally altruistic, not selfish.”

“Is that so?”

“Maybe it’s an evolutionary hold-over, from when we were primitive apes living in the trees, when communities had to get along for survival’s sake. Whatever the reason, give people a chance. They might surprise you.”

“Can you cite examples, Mr. Librarian?” Suraya smirked.

“Well.” He cast his gaze heaven-wards as if thinking it over. “I did hear about this woman, who set up a safe haven for refugees during the war, ran interference on the Red Legion, got communications re-established, organised the survivors into clans so they’d work together efficiently. She didn’t need to do that. She’s clearly a survivor, she could have hid out the war in the wilds. But she chose to help. Strikes me as admirably selfless, no?”

Suraya studied him, beginning to discern things she’d never seen before in that seemingly impassive face; An amused twitch of the lips , a playfully raised eyebrow and something to do with his eyes. The light in them seemed different somehow, betraying an emotion that Suraya didn’t have the courage to name yet. “Is this still a pretend date?”

“What are you talking about?” Zavala asked in a deadpan tone. “We just met.”

Suraya drained the last of her wine in an attempt to drown the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “If you say so.” She grinned wickedly and said, “But…This actually isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

Zavala frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We’d met before. Before the Farm.”

Zavala narrowed his eyes, “Are we still pretending or…”

“No, this is real.” Suraya answered brightly, probably the wine giving her the courage to tell this story. “I didn’t know who you were at the time but yeah, we’d met. I would have been about twelve? Thirteen?”

Zavala dropped his hands down to the table and stared. “You’re joking with me.”

Suraya shook her head. “Nope. It was one of Cayde’s dodgeball tournaments, you know? Getting civilians to interact with guardians or some such nonsense. Well. You came down, I don’t know why. Knowing what I know now, Cayde was probably shirking his duties or not answering calls, something like that.”

Zavala was sitting bolt upright, staring at the table cloth, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure how to feel about this.”

Suraya laughed, “Oh come on, we always knew there was an age gap. How old are you, anyway?”

Zavala answered with a single, forceful syllable. “Old.” He cleared his throat, “So. Dodgeball. You were playing dodgeball?”

“Yeah,” she started fidgeting with her napkin, beginning to regret diving into the anecdote but realising she was in too deep to stop now. “You came across me and…” She paused. “I was crying.” Another pause. “Because the other team won.” She staged a laugh to hide her embarrassment, “I know it’s silly but it was a big deal to me at the time. I was a smart kid and I was expected to be good at whatever I did so if something didn’t work out I used to melt down. Didn’t know how to handle failure. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Zavala was looking at her again. Suraya caught his gaze for a moment before looking away again. His eyes were shining with sympathy and also that unnameable emotion again, only even more intensely than before. “Did we speak?”

Suraya nodded, “Yeah, you asked me what was wrong. You looked pretty mean, I thought you were going to tell me to stop being silly, that it was just a game or something but you didn’t. You asked me if I tried my best, I said I had. Then you said that losing might sting but giving your best is always something to be proud of.”

Zavala gave a shrug. “I still don’t remember. It does sound like something I would say, I suppose. Did it help?”

“Yes.” She plucked up the courage to look him in the eye. “You made me feel good about myself.” She clutched the napkin on her lap in her fist and felt her mouth go dry suddenly but she somehow managed to carry on speaking. “You still do.”

“Suraya, I-” Zavala was cut off by his Ghost appearing at his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt your definitely not a date, Commander but Ikora is asking for you in CIC. She says it’s urgent.”

Suraya exhaled slowly, not sure if she was glad of the interruption or not. “Some sort of librarian emergency?”

Izanami turned her optic to face her. “Someone shelved Chicken Soup for the Soul in Cookery.”

She sucked her breath in through her teeth and made and exaggerated mock-wince. “Oof. You’d better get going. I’ll get the bill.”

“I’ve been talking to the restaurant’s Point of Sale computer, I already transferred the glimmer,” Izanami explained. “Zavala always pays on the first date.”

“It’s not a date,” Suraya insisted.

“Of course not. You’re just sitting in an expensive, artfully-lit restaurant giving each other compliments but it’s not a date.”

Suraya looked horrified. “How expensive? I can pay!”

“That’s enough, Iz,” Zavala said, a warning undertone in his voice.

“Shutting up now, Sir.”

“Sorry to cut this short,” Zavala rose from his chair.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She smirked up at him. “Cradle-snatcher.”

Zavala glared but there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Good night, Suraya.”

She watched him leave, only becoming aware of how much her heart had been hammering in her chest as she felt it finally calm and slow. She tapped her fingernails on the stem of her glass, thinking over everything they’d said to eachother. When the server came to clear their plates she said, “Could I have another glass of wine? Large, defintely large. Start a tab.”

[lucienfairfax]

noah.21-24

What does your Sole think about the Minutemen? What does your Sole think about the Brotherhood of Steel? What does your Sole think about the Railroad? What does your Sole think about the Institute?

Noah loves the Minutemen, obviously -- or, rather, what he’s met of them. The story behind the faction’s collapse doesn’t surprise him, and often he wonders what will happen to them after he and Preston are gone. Not every Minuteman loves him, but he still strives to do right by them, because with everything else going on, the settlements need their guardian angels.

The Brotherhood confuses him, but to be fair, he also hasn’t talked to a member for longer than five minutes. He doesn’t like their militaristic bent or their penchant for power armour (he hates power armour and avoids it like the plague, which is real funny considering how quickly he jumped into a suit when a handsome man with a laser rifle asked him to), and he doesn’t trust them to treat the people of the Commonwealth as people. Something about a man in a huge metal suit just isn’t trustworthy at all to Noah. Luckily, the BoS isn’t long for the Commonwealth, thanks to the Minutemen and the Railroad.

And speaking of-- he was immediately fascinated by the Railroad, especially by the complexity of the path to their hideout. But also, the idea of people caring about the synths that everyone else seemed to distrust at best and kill on sight at worst? He had to know more. It’s a good thing, too, because the process of helping out the Railroad made him have to be patient and observe the Institute instead of just going in with guns blazing -- which would have just ruined everything for everyone. He also gets along very well with most of the people in the Railroad, and they’ve all been good friends to him, including providing him with levity (thanks, Deacon and Tom) and good conversation (thanks, Glory and Dez).

Now, the Institute... he didn’t come to his decision about the Institute lightly. The organisation had been founded by people he knew, people he’d gone to school with. He also knew Atom had put him there, at CIT, to meet those people, and had intended for him to stay, and found the Institute with them. Noah didn’t want anything to do with the place, but they’d taken his son. He could see that there was no escaping the place, and fighting it might cause more harm than good to the people he wanted to protect. (Can you imagine Noah choosing to set off a fucking bomb just to get rid of the Institute? Of all things?! As if the Commonwealth weren’t ravaged enough already, and as if he wanted to relive that nuclear horror ever again.) He took on the role of Director because he had to, because ka dictated it, because he loved his son, because he believed the scientists’ minds could be changed.

And it put him at odds with his friends for a while, but he did his best not to alienate them, and he gave them space to process, and in the meantime he got to work overhauling the Institute to work for the Commonwealth instead of against it, and eventually... eventually it started to make sense. But it was definitely a leap of faith, and not a decision to be taken lightly.

[tipsycad147]

ATHENA: Guardian of Civilisation

http://creativedust.com

By ~ Aethyia ~

ORIGINS

While Athena may be best known as one of the Olympian Goddesses of Greece, there is ample evidence to suggest that Her worship is far older than the Olympians and ranged far beyond the shores of Greece. While She is often described simply as a Goddess of War, Her actual nature is far more complex. In many ways, we will see that She has evolved alongside humanity, continuing even to the present day to be a vital source of Wisdom.

HER ORIGIN AND PRESENCE IN VARIOUS CULTURES

The many tales of the Wisdom Goddess' long life are quite diverse. There are a number of theories about Her origin. There are some scholars who identify Her evolution by examining Her symbols. Marija Gimbutas is foremost in this approach.  Scholars of this type tend to see Athena’s origin as widespread throughout the Mediterranean and the spread of Her worship and the changes in Her imagery, a result of evolution.

There are others, like Robert Graves, who, rely upon the historical documents of authors such as Herodotus and Plato. These see the spread of Her worship as having occurred as a result of migrations and interactions of tribes of people.

There are also those writers, such as Norma Lorre Goodrich who believe that Athena is the Goddess of a patriarchal  culture which merged the identities of a number of Goddesses into one who is ultimately their own creation.

What is particularly interesting about Athena is that there are also those who perceive Her as still playing an active role in the spiritual lives of humanity, in a manner that is quite different from her earlier mythos. In this role, writers such as Helena Blavatsky and Christopher Penczak, identify Her not only as Goddess and also as an Ascended Master; a guiding force for Light workers and Theosophists.

Marija Gimbutas identifies Athena’s presence in the world as early as the Neolithic-Chalcolithic era. During this early incarnation, she appeared as the Bird Goddess:  "borne in the womb of mythical water...the primordial element." This imagery may remind us of many other tales of the origin of life, in which the divine element rises above the waters of chaos, Her spirit soaring, ready to create.

From the primitive past, Athena evolved yet maintained an aspect of Her earlier self. Marija Gimbutas writes: "Athena; the bird-form has been shed but Athena is occasionally winged and the bird is her attribute. She sometimes appears in the semblance of a sea eagle, a gull, a swallow, a vulture, or a dove."

Athena is particularly identified with the Owl. She is frequently seen in ancient sculptures and in mythic tales with Her Owl. This association is also found in one of Her many titles: Athena Glaukopis. This title has layers of meaning. Glau is generally translated as “gleaming” (and sometimes grey or bluish grey) and Ops is translated as “eyes”, giving us the meaning: Goddess with the Gleaming Eyes. But Glaux is also the word for Owl and so we might think of Her as Owl Eyes, the Wise One who can see Truth in the Darkness.

Athena is particularly identified with the Owl. She is frequently seen in ancient sculptures and in mythic tales with Her Owl. This association is also found in one of Her many titles: Athena Glaukopis. This title has layers of meaning. Glau is generally translated as “gleaming” (and sometimes grey or bluish grey) and Ops is translated as “eyes”, giving us the meaning: Goddess with the Gleaming Eyes. But Glaux is also the word for Owl and so we might think of Her as Owl Eyes, the Wise One who can see Truth in the Darkness.

Another aspect of Athena that links Her with the far distant past is Her very strong association with snakes. If we look at art work depicting Athena we find that She is almost always accompanied by or adorned with snakes. In some cases She is frequently seen wearing a gown of living snakes; holding a spear around which snakes are entwined or carrying a shield upon which one or more snakes are drawn.

Marija Gimbutas sees a relationship between the two sets of imagery, of bird and snake.  She writes: "Is this imagery not an inheritance from a deeper antiquity, from times when the cosmic Bird Goddess has as her counterpart a Cosmic Snake?"

Athena's snake symbolism is represented in Her temples. Buffie Johnson examined the language of symbols in two of Athena’s temples; one in Mycenaean Knossos, where she was known as Potnia Atana and the other in Athens (allegedly built due to her gift of the olive tree). She informs us that in both temples we find:  "the same cluster of symbols found later in Genesis: woman, tree and serpent. Athena herself is the goddess of wisdom and so it makes sense that the problem in Eden revolves around a tree of knowledge"

Though many writers of Classical Greece inform us that Athena was born of the head of Zeus, there are also those who questioned the true origin of their Goddess.  The philosopher Plato (429 - 347 BC) suggested that Athena was originally known as Neith, a multi-faceted Goddess of Egypt, worshipped since the Pre-dynastic period. But Neith was said to have originated in Libya. There are many writers who  identify Athena's origin as North African.  Martin Bernal proposes that the worship of Neith/Athena was imported from Egypt to Greece in the third/second millennia.

Robert Graves proposes that the worship of Athena was brought from North Africa to Crete as early as 4000 BC. He suggests a complex origin, from both Libya and Egypt and proposes that Her name was derived from Anna, or Ath-anna, an inversion of Anatha, another name for Neith.

In the White Goddess, Robert Graves relates various stories of Her life as a Goddess in Libya, worshipped in a culture that honoured the female warrior. This association with the Amazon culture of North Africa is shared by both Neith and Athena, and there are other scholars who support the idea that Athena was at one time worshipped by Amazons. (9) (10) A commonly told tale of the origin of Her name - Pallas Athena-  is that she once had a constant companion named Pallas. One day the two young women were practising their fighting skills and Athena accidentally killed Her friend. She grieved deeply and added Pallas' name to Her own so that she would never be forgotten. 

Graves also suggests  that according to even earlier accounts, Athene was a Sea Goddess, worshipped in Libya and Cyprus.  Graves provides a variety of theories, which may indicate Athena's connection to the Sea. Athena, for example,  is associated with Lake Triton. In one account, Graves reports, Athena is the daughter of Triton, a sea god. In another she is the daughter of the Sea Goddess Amphitrite. In other accounts she is the daughter or even consort of Poseidon. Graves suggests that Poseidon  became a sea god when he conquered the Peloponnese and the Gulf of Corinth and  married the Sea Goddess, Amphitrite,  who is also an incarnation of the moon. Graves states that Amphitrite is one of Athena's many titles.  While these various theories of Her origin may be confusing, they establish Athena as a very ancient Goddess of the Mediterranean.

Both Patricia Moynihan and Charlene Spretnak agree that Athena was worshipped in Crete.  Moynihan describes Athena as a household goddess, "the essence of the family bond, symbolised by the home and its hearth (who) by further extrapolation..was the symbol of the community itself, the larger social unit based on countless homes".

Spretnak describes her role as far more significant. She points out Athena's role as an inventor of various tools and the teacher of weaving, architecture, music, and various household arts. (Athena's association with weaving is widespread - from Crete to Egypt - and may explain her association with that other famous weaver: Arachne. )

Spretnak also informs us that the base of Athena's worship existed among the matrifocal peoples of  the Peloponnese, as well as, Argos, Aparta, Troy, Smyrna, Epidaurus, Troezen and Pheneus. 

In later years, these matrifocal tribes would be conquered by a more patriarchal culture, but their Goddess would survive. Her ancient origin would be hidden, for in the new ruling culture, all must be subordinate to the king, particularly the king of the Gods: Zeus.

Athena's story was re-written by the Hellenic Greeks, yet hints that Her origin is far older than the Olympian Pantheon, remain embedded in the tale.  Norma Lorre Goodrich reminds us of the writings of Hesiod (circa 700 BC). Hesiod wrote that Athena was conceived parthenogenically by Metis, the Titan Wisdom Goddess. (15)  Zeus feared that her child would be greater than he and so he swallowed Metis.  Athena was born of Metis, though still inside Zeus.  Zeus' head began to pound (as well it should). He called upon Hephaestus to split his head open and Athena leapt out free and fully armoured. (16) She is not a product of Her father; She is the survivor of an earlier age.

https://greekmythology.wikia.org

ATHENA’S MANY ROLES

In the art of Classical Greece and Rome, we can easily identify Her, by Her helmet and spear, so we tend to associate Her foremost as a Goddess of War. If we read of Her, however, in the tales of Hellenic Greece we find that She was not a Goddess of the battlefield as much as she was a wise and cunning counsellor of warriors and heroes. She helps Odysseus return to his home. She comforts and advises Hercules (see figure 9) throughout his accomplishment of the Twelve Labours.

Athena also leads Theseus to Amphitrite, to obtain the golden ring.It is suggested by Erich Neumann that this tale demonstrates the Goddess' power to initiate the male, suggestive of her earlier sovereignty.

Of course, we also remember that Athena helped Perseus slay Medusa. One might wonder how myths are born and if this last tale was created to explain why Athena is seen so frequently with the head of Medusa upon Her breast. If we consider that Athena was worshipped by the same matrifocal peoples who were later conquered by the Dorian Greeks, it may be that there is a far older explanation, one that was forgotten by the patriarchal tellers of this tale. In Buffie Johnson's Lady of the Beasts, we find the suggestion that the "Gorgon's mask stood for the moon, others saw her as Athena's double... She may well personify Athena's dark side, since Medusa represents the chthonic power of the Great Goddess in the underworld". (20) In figure 11, we see the Medusa upon Athena's breast and her gown adorned with snakes.

In the complex world of Classical Greece, Athena was a multi-dimensional Goddess. She was worshipped as the Goddess of Wisdom, Arts and Crafts. She was Athena Polias, Protector of the City . (21) She was known as Athena Agoraia (the marketplace), Athena Agripha (of agriculture), Athena Hygeia (the healer), Athena Axiopoinas (the wise judge) and Athena Aristobulo who gives wise counsel.

Athena, we find, is not associated with the primal force of nature, as is Gaia, or of the elemental powers, as is her rival, Poseidon. Anne Baring and Jules Cashford, write: “Poseidon provides the horse, while Athena bridles it and builds the chariot; Poseidon rules the waves, while Athena constructs the ship that rides them…Her gift is not the salt spring gushing upwards from the depths of the earth, as is Poseidon’s, but the carefully cultivated olive, whose oil was the prize at her festival”  Athena is the Goddess who walks with humanity, guiding us in the varied tasks that make up our lives.

Athena inspired people in many lines of work: drama, literature, music, art, weaving, architecture, building, medicine, law, government,  business, architecture, and so on.

To the philosophers, She was intelligence itself and their special muse.  Plato, in particular was devoted to Athena and wrote:

That is a graver matter, and there, my friend, the modern interpreters of Homer may, I think, assist in explaining the view of the ancients. For most of these in their explanations of the poet, assert that he meant by Athena "mind" [nous] and "intelligence" [dianoia], and the maker of names appears to have had a singular notion about her; and indeed calls her by a still higher title, "divine intelligence" [Thou noesis], as though he would say: This is she who has the mind better than others. Nor shall we be far wrong in supposing that the author of it wished to identify this Goddess with moral intelligence [en ethei noesin], and therefore gave her the name ethonoe; which, however, either he or his successors have altered into what they thought a nicer form, and called her Athena.(24)

One of the stories of Athena that demonstrates Her gift of intelligence to humanity is from Ovid. According to Ovid, Prometheus created the first people from clay and Athena infused Her spirit into them, awakening their minds 

Athena, in the role of co-Creatrix of humanity, is recognised in the writings of modern Theosophical writers. Helena Blavatsky describes Her as "the mother of manasputric kumaras", meaning that Athena divided her energy, creating spiritual entities which infused and endowed human beings with intelligence. 

EVOLVING AND CONTINUING PRESENCE

Zeus may have been right to have feared that the child of Metis would become greater than he, for Athena has continued to be a force in our evolution.  Her image is found decorating universities, academic organisations , government buildings, the state seal of California, even money!  A town is named for Her in Oregon. In Tennessee, Her Parthenon has been reconstructed.

Operation Athena is the name for Canada's role in the current conflict in Afghanistan. Their goal is: " to leave Afghanistan to Afghans, in a country that is better governed, more peaceful and more secure." May Athena provide them with the necessary Wisdom to accomplish such a Herculean task….but then that is a speciality of Hers. 

hough Christianity would later replace the old religion and the worship of  the Goddess would seem abandoned, the memory of Holy Sophia, enthroned and winged, continues into the modern era. Her worship has been restored by Neo-Pagans. She is invoked by Lightworkers and Theosophists.

Athena continues to be recognised as both Goddess and spiritual mentor. She  is considered a vital part of the evolution of humanity by many Theosophists. One famous Theosophist, Alice Bailey, identifies Athena as a member of the Karmic Board. To many light workers, Athena is an Ascended Master and Guide who can be invoked for guidance and protection. 

Christopher Penczak, in Ascension Magick, reports that, “Pallas Athena can be called upon in all matters of wisdom, intelligence and ingenuity. Though a great warrior, she learned how not to fight when it was not necessary, and how to use diplomacy, intelligence and strategy to defeat one’s enemy.” 

The Goddess of Wisdom continues to communicate Her gifts to many spiritual seekers. My own journey to discovery of the true nature of Athena began when I received a reading from a minister of the New York Spiritualist Church. This meditative experience revealed to me a Being of Light, Wisdom, Protection and Guidance.  I find that when I open my spirit to communicate with Her, I am filled with Peace.

SYMBOLS OF THE GODDESS

The following information was found on: www.goddessgift.com  website. General Symbolism: The Sun, a golden shield (frequently adorned with snakes or Medusa), helmet, spear (two snakes sometimes wrapped around the spear, suggestive of the caduceus), the Parthenon, the Seven Auras and the number 7.  

Animals: Owls, Doves, Sea Eagles, Snakes, Rams (remember the Golden Fleece), Tigers, Leopards and other Cats.(And let's not forget Pegasus!) 

Plants Olives, Olive Trees, Citrus Trees, Oak, Cypress, Geranium, Tiger Lilly and Hellbore (Christmas/Lenten Roses) 

Scents Patchouli, musk and orange blossom, cinnamon, cedar wood and dragon's blood.

 Gems and Metals Lapis Lazuli, Star Sapphire, Turquoise, Onyx and Ruby. Also, Gold and Ivory. 

Colours: Gold, Orange, Yellow, Emerald Green and Indigo or Royal Blue. (I would also add a blend of Gold and silver Light).   

HER FESTIVALS

Herodotus describes many rituals of the rituals that honoured Athena. For my ritual (below) I was inspired by two that he described. 

The first was in Plynteria, the Feast of Adorning was observed every May for 5 days. During this time the priestesses washed and purified themselves, their sanctuary, the statue of Athena and her clothing.

The second was celebrated in Sais. The people celebrated the Feast of Lamps.  They created oil lamps (saucers filled with oil and salt) and burned

these throughout the night, filling the whole city with light.

Preparations:

The altar should also be cleaned and prepared ahead of time.

v Altar cloth: Athena's colours are solar (gold, orange), emerald or indigo/dark blue. (I used a dark blue cloth)

v Candles: 5 white or gold candles, placed in the four directions and in the centre.

v Incense: cedar.

v A bowl with orange water.

v For the feast: bread with crushed olives and wine/ juice (I prefer juice) and an offering bowl.

v candle snuffer

v Possible images of Athena: a statue or pictures of Athena, Her owl, snake or other totems.

Bathing: Bath oil and/or soap with one of her scents, perhaps patchouli and orange.

During the bath use an affirmation such as "By the Light of Athena, I am purified in all ways".  (speak to Athena about the planned ritual)

Dressing:  If possible use Athena's colours. and if possible wear jewellery that includes her gems: Lapis Lazuli, Star Sapphire, Turquoise, Onyx and Ruby.

CAST THE CIRCLE

Using wand or athame.

PURIFICATION

Cedar is one of Athena's scents and is good for purifying the circle. Light some cedar incense, saying, By the light of Athena this space has been purified.

BLESSING THE CIRCLE

Light the candle in the centre: Athena, Goddess of Light Eternal. Bless this circle in Wisdom and Peace. In light I create the temple of the Goddess.

Cast the circle with light! Walk around the circle with the candle (keep it in its holder so that it can be placed on the altar easily). Chanting: In light I create the temple of the Goddess.

Having cast the circle: The circle is cast. The temple is established, blessed in the Light of Wisdom and Peace.

Light the candle in the East (using the central candle): In Light I create the temple of the Goddess. Facing East invoke one of the images of Athena:  I call upon Minerva, Goddess of the Dawn and Emerging Light. Bless this circle with the power of air. Bless my mind with your insight.

When ready to proceed, use the central candle to light the candle in the South: In Light I create the temple of the Goddess.

Invoke Neith: I call upon you Ancient Neith, Great Pythoness of Prophecy! Bless this circle with the power of fire. Fill my spirit with your Truth.

Proceed with the central candle to the West and lighting that candle again say: In Light I create the temple of the Goddess. In the West invoke Sulis:  I call upon you Sweet Sulis, Power of Purification, bless this circle with the power of water. Heal me of dis-ease and negativity.

Continue to the North and light that candle, saying once again: In Light I create the temple of the Goddess Facing the North say:   I call upon you, Hagia Sophia, whose holy presence has blessed the earth for millennia. Bless this circle with the power of Earth's Resilience and Creativity.

Return to the centre and invoke Athena:

THE INVOCATION OF THE GODDESS

I am the light of the ages

I am the gift of awakening

I am the plan for she who leads

I am the guide for she who seeks

I am the muse for she who creates

I am comfort for she who mourns

I am salve for she who must heal

I am courage for she who despairs

I am rejuvenation for she who is weary

I am inspiration for she who brings peace

I am the shield for she who takes a stand

I am vision for she who must know

I am the mentor for she who would be wise

SELF-BLESSING

(using orange water - anoint crown)

Bless me Great Athena with Your Awakening

(anoint inner eye)

Bless my eyes with Vision

(anoint throat)

Bless my throat with Truth

(anoint heart)

Bless my heart with your Understanding

(anoint belly)

Bless my body with your Strength

(anoint feet)

Bless my journey with your Guidance

(anoint hands)

Bless my work with your Inspiration

RAISING THE CONE OF POWER

(Breathing deeply, I use my consciousness to raise the energy in my body. Energy of the Earth rises into my feet, up into my legs, up into the trunk of my body, up the spine, shoulders, arms, throat, head, up to the crown to reach upwards. This breathing exercise charges my body with energy and opens my third eye. I begin to journey to Athena. I reach Her temple. I visualise my connection to Her. I merge with Her.)

THE FEAST

Holding the plate of bread and crushed olives and the cup of juice, I say: Beloved Athena, infuse these offerings with your strength and your love. I place a piece of bread in the offering bowl and pour in a little grape juice. What I have received I shall freely give. And then I eat and drink and ground myself.

OPENING THE CIRCLE

Thank the Goddesses.

Then with candle snuffer in hand and saying: The temple of the Goddess remains within me, extinguish the candles.

Finally: using athame or wand, open the circle.

Notes1.      Gimbutas, Marija, The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe: Myths and Cult Images, (University of California Press:Berkley, CA., 1982), p. 95.

2.    Ibid., p. p 148-149.

3.    Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, 1940, A Greek-English Lexicon, ISBN 0-19-864226-1, online version at the Perseus Project. Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, 1940, A Greek-English Lexicon, ISBN 0-19-864226-1, online version at the Perseus Project.

4.    Gimbutas, Marija, p. 148

5.     Johnson, Buffie, Lady of the Beasts: The Goddess and Her Sacred Animals,  (Inner Traditions: Rochester, Vt., 1994), p.156.

6.    Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, (Penquin Books, London, UK,1992), Chapter 8 pp. 44-45.

7.     Bernal, Martin, Black Athena: The Afroasiatic Roots of Classical Civilization (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1987), 21, 51–53.

8.    Graves, Robert, The White Goddess, (Farrar, Strauss, and Groux: New York, NY), p. 371. (Also, found in The Greek Myths, Chapter 8.)

9.    Wilde, Lyn Webster, On the Trail of the Women Warriors: The Amazons in Myth and History, (St. Martin's Press: New York, NY,2000), p. 32 and p. 96.

10.                        Salmonson, Jessica Amanda, The Encyclopedia of Amazons, (Paragon House: New York, 1991) See Athena, Gorgons, Medusa.

11.  Graves, Robert, The White Goddess, pp. 218, 351-353, 360-361, 371.

12.Ibid, p. 360.

13.Monaghan, Patricia, The New Book of Goddesses and Heroines,  (Llewellyn Publications: St. Paul, MN), pp. 59-60.

14.Spretnak, Charlene, Lost Goddesses of Early Greece, (Moon Books, Berkley, CA, 1978), pp. 90-95.

15. Lorre Goodrich, Norma, Priestess, (Franklin Watts: New York, 1989) p 171.

16.Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, ( Penguin Books, London, UK, 1992) Chapter 8.

17. Ibid. Chapter 171.

18.Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, Chapter 134.

19.Neumann, Erich, The Great Mother, (Princeton University: Princeton, NY, 1974.) p325

20.                      Johnson, Buffie, p. 152

21.Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheke, 3.14.6.

22.                       http://www.goddessaday.com/greek/athena

23.                       Baring, Anne and Cashford, Jules, The Myth of the Goddess: Evolution of an Image, (ARKANA/Penquin Books, London, UK, 1993), p. 338

24.                       Plato, Cratylus, 407b

25.                       Babcock, Michael, Susan Seddon Boulet: The Goddess Paintings, (Pomegranate Books: San Francisco, CA, 1994), pp. 32-33.

26.                       Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, 4 b. "...as yet, there were no ((mortal men until, with the consent of the goddess, Athene, Prometheus...formed them in the likeness of gods. He used clay and water...and Athene breathed life into them."

27.                       http://www.blavatskyarchives.com/Manasa-Putra

28.                       Found on^ a b "Phi Delta Theta International - Symbols". phideltatheta.org.

29.                       http://www.cefcom.forces.gc.ca/pa-ap/ops/athena/index-eng.asp

30.                        http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanat_Kumara#Sanat_Kumara_also_a_manifestation_of_the_Spirit_of_the_Earth_and_the_Solar_Logos

31.http://www.ascension-research.org/athena

32.                       Penczak, Christopher, Ascension Magick: Ritual, Myth, and Healing for the New Aeon, (Llewellyn Publications: Woodbury, MN, 2007), p. 164.

33.                       www.goddessgift.com

34.                       Herodotus, The Histories, (Everyman Press: VT,) pp. 148-149.

http://www.orderwhitemoon.org/goddess/Athena/athena.htm

[craske]

The last Guardian fanfic pt.1

The story takes place years after Boy’s adventure in the Nest, when he is all grown up and finds the Mirror from the Valley. 

It’s a short fanfic, might have max 4 parts, first part is mostly what happened in epiloge.

[FIRST]  >  [NEXT]

MAJOR SPOILERS MENTION!!

Village children were playing together, being loud, chasing eachother, that is what children should do while they can. They were running around, playing the game of tag on the glade in the center of the Village, one or two of children tripped over, ran into few adults who were busy, doing things they had to do. One lady yelled, but children didn’t bother. They were too much involved in their game.

The late summer sun was setting down, so most of torches were already lit, but the villagers were still running around. They had to prepare for incoming winter, which still seemed to be a distant thing. But a lot of things had to be done, so the sooner you start the better. Wood was being brought from the forest, additional fruits were being collected, more animals were being skinned, not to mention women sewing special clothes, men improving cottage’s walls and roof. Children also had their responsibilities, though some decided to have a little break.

One boy was being chased by another one, who was chosen to catch other children as fast as he could. But when the chasen was sure he lost the pursuit and slowed down, something green caught his eye. The sunshine was reflecting in something small sticking out from the ground in midde of one of few patches of dirt. He stopped running, and after a moment of watching at the misterious object the boy walked up to it and kneeled down. It was simmilar to the plate, or small round shield. But it was green, and not made out of grass, wood or leather. It was more like a metal, though more smooth and shiny. And green. The misterious object was covered in dirt, but when child wiped off some of it, he saw the reflection of himself. It was a mirror! Very wierd one though. In the meantime other children noticed that their friend found something and came closer to see what was it.

-What is it?-

-What did you find?-

The boy didn’t know, he only shrugged. -I have no idea, it looks like a mirror, but it’s green… and has some wierd markings here, see?-

He pointed at said markings, which created some sort of a circle, though these markings were really small and in fact looked like some kind of writing or simply symbols. But what do these mean?

-You’re right!-

-What are these things?-

Children came even closer, everyone of tchem wanted to look closer at the Mirror or even touch it. But none of them tried to pull it out from the ground.

And then the group heared footsteps from behind. Ready to be scold they all looked up, but it wasn’t Nanny, it was the middle-aged man with a short beard. He looked like typical villager, but one thing made him stand out. His whole body exept face was covered in wierd tatoos, robes the Man was wearing were typical for people of important rank. Everybody knew that these marking on his skin weren’t actual tatoos, but nobody knew why and how they were created. But there were stories. About the Nest, ancient ruins located inside the moutain, alive suits of armour, glass eyes and flying feathered man-eating beasts. They often came to the villages at night, captured children and ate them alive. This Man though, he was brought back by one of these feathered beasts back. But children didn’t think it’s true, not now anyway. No more feathered beast have been seen for many years now.

Children stood up when the Man came, but he didn’t say a thing, because he didn’t seem to be mad. He looked at the Mirror in the ground, and despite not seing this for years, it looked exactly as he remembered it. But it was smaller, though the reason was clear.

-We found it just a moment ago- one child said, while others nodded. The true finder made an offended face, but nobody noticed, or at least didn’t pay attention.

-Do you know what it is?- Asked another child. The Man didn’t reply, instead he came closer and grabbed the Mirror. It was warm thanks to the sun, which was also reflecting on the shiny surface, but despite this green markings slighly gleaming with green light. He pulled i tour from the ground and started rubbing mud off.

-You know these stories which Nanny tells you sometimes?- he finnaly spoke, not looking at children around. They all nodded, some hummed in confirmation.

-Yes, about the Nest and flying beasts- one boy said.

-And about them taking children out from cabins. But that’s not true!- another child added. Man finnaly looked at this one, an older boy. In fact he seemed to be the oldest of the group.

-How so?- Asked the Man. Child got a bit confused, but bulled himself back together quickly. He was sure that it was all just tales to scare little kids.

-Nothing like this happened in years, nobody saw even a feather of a trico, not to mention a beast itself. And the Nest couldn’t be found anywhere. It’s clearly a fairytale- Boy said, really proud of this speech.

-That’s right! This is all made up!- another child claimed. The Man smiled warmly and looked at the group. He already cleaned the Mirror out of the mud and dirt, he was now holding it by a small handle. It was slightly funny-looking, a grown man with beard, covered from head to toes in tatoos, holding a thing which looked like a plate-sized extremly shiny and round shield.

-Well… how do you think i got these pelicular markings?- the Man asked, which confused children.

-That’s what i thought. Because Nanny and others don’t know whole story. Or at least they forgot to mention it- He paused for a second.

-You see… this is a magical Mirror. And, as every mirror, it reflects sun, illuminating the specific point. But, this one, it emits its own green light. You said tricos aren’t real. But trust me, when you point the green light of this Mirror, the beast’s tail would strike a lightning…-

 Later, when the sun hid behind the horizon, the Man and children, who found the Mirror, were standing in the middle of village glade. Some of children were holding torches to provide light, while the Man was checking Mirror again, to be sure it would work as it did back then, when he was just a boy, trapped in ruins of the Nest, trying to find his way home. And only ally he had was Trico, one of these big feathered beasts. And ironically enough, Trico was the one who brought him to the Nest. But luckly, after quite a lot of up and downhills, they both managed to escape. But unfortunately, Trico was heavly wounded and he had to be sent away, because villagers would kill him. And it’s very unlikely that Trico survived in that condition.

The Man sighed, suddenly flood with sadness. It’ the only thing he could remember of the moment Trico brought him back. The rest is all just a fog. When he finnaly woke up, he was told that he was getting better for three days, and after 2 next he was able to stand up and go down the stairs of the nursery. It all felt as an eternity, because whole body was hurting, mostly the head though.

-How far can the light reach?- one boy asked suddenly, which snapped the Man out from his memories. He grabbed the mirror by the handle.

-We are about to find out- he said and he rised a hand with a Mirror. Its markings light up with a familiar sound, and a ray of green light went up, towards the clouds on night sky, and it was visible up there. Children exclaimed in awe, whilethe Man smiled. It was so good to hear this sound and see green light, only thing able to destroy the barier protecting Ruler of the Valley.

-I reached the clouds!-

-It’s so pretty!-

-How does it do that?-

-Are you sure it’s not light of torches?-

Man snickered, hearing all these coments was amusing at least.

-I can tell for sure it is not light of torches you hold, it’s the Mirror itself creating this light. When Trico saw the light, his tail would stand up and create a lightning, which was able to destroy even walls. It could also make armour suits stop running after you. Until now i have no idea why though- he said, while children listened carefully to his words.

-Can you tell us the story? The real story?- suddenly asked one boy, which caught the Man off guard.

-Real story?- he asked.

-Yes! What really happened when Trico took you to the Nest!-

The man hummed, gathering thoughts and memories.

-Very well then. As you know, a long time ago, tricos were capturing people at night… and one night, it turned out i was about to be one of them…

 At the meantime, in a cavern far away from the Village…

A quiet sound of drops hitting rocks. A sound of waterfall further by the entrance to the lair. Silent breaths of offsprings. Their smell. The warmth of their little bodies.

The beast was at ease. Nothing disturbed the peace. Mate was out hunting. To keep the family well-fed. After the fall of the Claw, no more bright food could be found. So the beast and it’s mate started hunting beyond the Valley. But both of them avoided two-legged creatures and their nests. These creatures were very territorial. But beasts had no need to go there. For-legged small brown creatures were enough. Their offsprings were growing well while eating this meat. Soon they will start practicing flight.

Suddenly, the feeling. The urge. The familiar sense of need. Beast rose it’s head, looking for the source of the urge. Nothing in their nest. It growled silently, it’s offsprings woke up too. What was this? The feeling was somehow familiar. The beast felt it. As if it saw it’s mate after a long seperation. Or it’s offspring for the forst time. Or finnaly found a lost friend. Then the beast realised. The mirror, the tiny figure. Falling bridge, big eye, little weigh of companion on back. Pain of sharp sticks stuck in body.

Beast stood up, knowing what the urge was. What it had to do. Where it should to go. It nudged affectionately its offsprings to comfort them. Mate should be back soon, to tak care of them. Beast rushed through the big crack in wall, jumped over a precipice, trotted through a pond and finnaly rushed outside. It didn’t hesitate when it reached a cliff, it simply leaped, spread wings and quickly ascended, skillfully using the flow of warm air blowing from the abyss below. Despite the lack of sun on the sky, which was replaced by moon and stars, beast could see very good, which also was resulted by its eyes and horns glowing.  

Beast finnaly was above the wole moutain, it could see only forests, they stretched to the horizon and, very likely, even further. But ocasionaly, in this ocean of green and yellow, there were bald spots, meadows, where two-legged creatures had their nests. There were s omany, but the beast knew which one it should go to.

It did a small circle, lowered it’s height and headed towards East, direction which it took twice before. And it always was took to reach the same destination, but for diffrent reasons. Now it headed there to find it’s old friend. Friend which the beast brought to the Nest many years ago, in order to give it as sacrifice to the Ruler of the Valley. But very unfortunate accident made the extraordinary story happen.

[nikie2571]

Maradalel Chapter 2: The Talk (Alternatively: Of boys and girls and the games that they play)

Maradalel was miserable. Not being allowed out of his room for the entire time he bled had worn him thin. His skin showed only azure on it, his tiredness too great for him to be angry or sad.

Slowly, Maradalel dressed, taking great care that he did not bind his chest too tightly. He still wanted to breathe today, especially if he was going to be yelled at later.

First, he wrapped the cover of cloth around his middle, and then slowly wound tighter and tighter with strips of linen. Finally, he put on his loincloth and leggings and was ready to face the day.

He wasn’t ready to face his father though.

“Tilled stanat la loca ii lav radin, kana—a?” Why are you out of your room, boy? Danda—el asked, accusation firmly planted in his voice as his skin flared a dangerous red.

“Ta poset nu visisad pan shila sinak hazokil, bala. Ta pamedat stana loca killet,” I have not bled for 15 hazokil, father. I can be out now, Maradadalel replied flatly.

Danda—el stared at him for a long tense moment, skin fading slightly. “La wakov atta ra, od stana humazad.” You will train all day, or be punished.

“On, bala,” Yes, father, Maradalel said with a slow nod.

****

Maradalel whacked the straw dummy with his practise sword, aiming for the clearly marked vital spots.

Whack.

A hit in the stomach.

Whack.

A hit in the neck.

Shhhhh.

A stab in the heart.

“Alo—ra, Maradalel.”

Slap.

A hit on flesh.

“Alo—ra, Andarada—el,” Maradalel replied with a slight smile, his sword resting its flat side on the boy’s cyan and orange arm.

Slowly, cerise and more orange all rose to the surface of Andarada—el’s skin. He looked a little panicked if Maradalel thought about it.

“Are you okay?” Maradalel asked.

Andarada—el blinked slowly. “Uh... yeah.”

“You shouldn’t be in the practice fields without a weapon or armour,” Maradalel stated.

“I… I know.”

Maradalel raised a brow. “Then why?”

“I thought you would hear me coming.”

Maradalel levelled a flat look at him. “I was vigorously hitting a target, I clearly wasn’t paying attention.”

“I, uh, I realized that.”

Maradalel drew his sword back. “So… why are you here?”

“To talk to a pretty boy.”

Maradalel felt himself turn orange with embarrassment. “Oh. I, uh, I take it your father isn’t here then.”

Andarada—el smiled, his skin turning completely mint. “No, he isn’t.”

Maradalel went silent, feeling conflicted. He wanted to talk to Andarada—el, but he also knew that if he did, he would probably leave the interaction feeling much more confused than he had entering it.

Maradalel scanned around, looking over the other trainees. None of them were looking this way, nor were any of the instructors. That was good.

“Why are you covering your chest?” Andarada—el asked.

Maradalel wasn’t going to answer that, despite the lack of judgement in the question, so he chose to flip the situation on Andarada—el.

“Why did you touch my face last time we spoke?”

Andarada—el flushed orange, though some mint and yellow were also present. “B-because I wanted to.”

“Oh.” That… hadn’t worked as intended, but he had an answer now, albeit one that he didn’t know how to feel about. Was he pretty enough that Andarada—el thought of him as a girl? Or was he something different, something forbidden? Was he a Jolog’Amali—el, a ‘same lover’?

Maradalel didn’t know which option was better. Or rather, he did, but neither option ended very well, for either of them.

“You know I am e—a, male, and not e—i, female, correct?” Maradalel said.

“On,” Yes, was the immediate reply.

Maradalel stood in silence. That… was not the answer he expected, and by Guardians was it making his head hurt thinking about the implications. Jolog’Amali—el rang in his mind like a distant echo as he remembered the brilliant cerise colour of lust that often covered Andarada—el’s skin.

“So... would you like to engage in some ‘swordplay’?” Andarada—el asked with a wink.

Maradalel didn’t reply for a long purposeful moment. He was not prepared at all to deal with this boy and he needed more time to think.

“...I’m supposed to train all day, so that would be quite helpful,” he eventually settled on saying.

Andarada—el flushed purple and mint, with a little bit of yellow. Trust and pride, an interesting, but friendly reaction. Maradalel couldn’t help but want to keep seeing such reactions, but... the worry of getting caught, of his secret being found out was still ever present, and it would likely never go away.

So, instead of dwelling, Maradalel lifted his sword and waited for Andarada—el’s first strike.

Andarada—el stepped in and swung at Maradalel. In response, he sidestepped and raised a block, knocking the blade away. Maradalel then made a forward stab at his opponent, a move Andarada—el easily dodged. But, Maradalel had planned that, and he did a spin to the left, hitting Andarada—el’s sloppy block.

Again and again, their blades met: strike, stab, slash, dodge, repeat, mix it up. Each thunk and swish was carefully executed and slowly Andarada—el became orange and chartreuse with worry. Clearly, Maradalel was winning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if his father would be proud of him for being better than the son of his second-in-command.

He did another spin, this time away from Andarada—el's next strike and immediately turned to block the oncoming blade. The impact threw Andarada—el off balance and made him fall. Maradalel, seeing his chance, lunged forward and pinned Andarada—el to the ground with his foot, declaring him the winner as he rested his blade against the other’s neck.

For a long moment, the two just… stared at each other, no sound between them other than the heavy sound of their breaths.

“So, what did you think?” Maradalel asked.

Andarada—el’s skin flared up in a variety of colours: yellow, cerise, purple, cyan, and even a little orange.

“I think it’s pretty clear you know how to handle a ‘sword’,” Andarada—el replied, shaping the final word in his mouth in a way that made Maradalel sure he wasn’t talking about blades.

Maradalel raised an eyebrow in judgement despite feeling orange taking over his skin. “You don’t know the first thing about my ‘sword’.”

Andarada—el laughed. “I guess I deserve that,” he said. “What about me though, what do you think of my skills?”

Maradalel lifted his blade. “You’re very skilled for someone I’ve never seen in the practice fields before.” Maradalel then sat down on the ground just a bit away from Andarada—el.

The other boy sat up as he turned many different colours: red, blue, orange, and green. “That’s because my father wants me to avoid you. He doesn’t like the General all that much, and he thinks me being around you will make me become like him.”

Maradalel blinked in surprise. That was a lot of honesty right there.

“So I take it you’re here without him knowing?”

Andarada—el laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. “For all the rules he gives me, he’s a little too busy to make sure I follow them. I basically do what I want, as long as it can’t get back to him.”

Andarada—el smirked, turning mint once more. Maradalel thought it looked good on him. “Like say, making a pretty boy flustered at his own party, where there are too many guests to be sure I ever did anything at all.”

Maradalel was sure he was completely orange now. “That’s… good to know.”

Andarada—el hummed thoughtfully. “I’m really good at creating stolen moments. Do you wanna make one with me?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Maradalel straightened, panic surging through him. “Uh, no, that’s okay, but, uh, maybeanothertimethough!?”

Andaradael—el was chartreuse now. “So that’s… not a ‘no’?”

Maradalel scanned the field quickly, happy to see that no one was looking their way.

“That’s uh, yeah, that’s not a ‘no’.”

Andarada—el flushed a bright yellow. “Sweet.” Then he waggled his eyebrows again, he probably thought it made him look cool. “Much like kissing you will be like, I imagine.”

Maradalel thinned his lips. “You’re… really embarrassing, you know that?”

Andarada—el was smiling. “Yeah, I do. I can see how orange you are.”

“Have…” Maradalel took a quick breath. “Have you kissed many people?”

Andarada—el made a thoughtful face. “Mmmmm, not too many, but you’re the first one I’ve wanted to talk to as well as to kiss.”

Oh. That’s... very flattering. “Th-thanks.”

Andarada—el turned mint…. Again. Maradalel was almost expecting it now. “You’re very welcome.”

****

“Ta sonod kirad la stanad speta—ti oo kola ii Visistale—el, um kirad la aklad takalk gel—a un uv da,” I heard that you were talking to Visistale—el’s son, and that you won against him in a fight, Danda—el said the moment that Maradalel returned home.

“Ta hallad, stanad kirad nu ill?” I did, was that not good? Maradalel asked hesitantly.

Red bloomed over his father’s skin. “Ot, kirad stanad ill, ee kim stanad nu kim ma speta—ti abagaz beso—ti… yemen yaman.” No, that was good, but what wasn’t was you talking about kissing… each other.

Maradalel felt emotion rise in him, but he needed to control what emotion. He couldn’t show fear, that would just mark him as guilty. No, right now he needed to be angry.

“Tilled allad ta hallat kirad?! Ge—a stanat uv kana—a, um kanal—a hallat nu beso yaman kanal—a!” Why would I do that?! He’s a boy, and boys don’t kiss other boys!

Danda—el considered him for a moment. “Ot... ulu hallat nu. Abraka inaga mer pot kirad yom.” No… they don’t. Make sure it stays that way.

Danda—el then walked off, leaving Maradalel to stew in confusion and anger and fear. He was going to have to be more careful now.

[fxckmebuck]

Come back to me.

Request: "Can you write something about Bucky based on the writing prompt "I was nowhere near the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by"? Thanks!!!!!! Xxxxxxxx"

Summary: After the decision is made to put Bucky back in cryo, your whole world falls apart and you completely lose control. Will your broken pieces ever be put back together?

Word count: 2,047

Warnings: None

A/N: I ran away with this so prepare for the feels to hit hard. I am aware this is low-key trash.

Italics are used to represent flashbacks.

Masterlist

"Y/N, it's always such a pleasure to see you!" The strong, firm voice welcomed you as arms wrapped around your rigid figure. T'Challa had not always been a friend but as it now stood, he definitely wasn't a foe.

"I'm sorry for not giving you any pre-warning, I was nowhere near the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by." You tried to make your voice sound comical, uplifting, you tried to make it sound like just being there didn't rip your heart to pieces with every breath you inhaled and every step you took but, deep down you knew, you weren't convincing anyone.

The worst thing being you had no choice, being away hurt even more - ever since they had chosen to freeze Bucky again you had been propelled at full force into a constant cycle of pain and destruction - Bucky was the love of your life, a love you would probably never see again.

"No problem, you're always welcome. Stay for as long as you like!" T'Challa couldn't help the sympathy that laced itself into his voice from showing, he always worried about how you were doing because it never seemed to be that you were doing okay.

As you watched T'Challa walk away, you suddenly forgot how to breathe. It always happened this way, every time you came here your body would undergo the same excruciating sequence. With every step closer to his body, your own grew colder than the ice that surrounded Bucky but your heart burned like fire as it pushed lava through your veins.

Steve had asked once to come with you. Personally, up until then, he'd always thought it was something you should do by yourself but once he was prompted by T'Challa of the fact that you had tried to use your skills as a pyrokinesis to melt the ice surrounding Bucky as well as nearly and unknowing setting aflame the whole city of Lagos - Steve thought it was time to intervene, time to help.

But, you didn't want help. Not because you thought you didn't need it, as you were well aware that you were spiralling out of control and therefore extremely dangerous, but because you were ignorant, selfish and madly in love with a man that had been snatched from your arms.

You and Bucky were the perfect team together, you kept each other sane. The presence of your smooth hair and soft skin at night kept Bucky's nightmares at bay and, in the daytime, his electrifying eyes slowed the erratic beat of your heart. However, when Bucky was put in cryo, who was there to save you?

Your soul turned sour and your intentions were malicious, soon enough you were compromising missions and getting other people killed. You put your emotions and personal grudges before your vow to save the lives of the innocent and because of that, you had to go.

Soon enough you ended up taking a "vacation", as Tony first called it, despite everyone knowing that it was because he had no idea how to deal with you anymore. No-one did.

You no longer were the Y/N they all knew and loved, you didn't even know yourself anymore. So, your three-month vacation turned into a couple of years and you'd only recently returned to throw in the towel.

Pressing your trembling hands upon the glass that separated yourself from your lover, you let your tears run freely.

"Hey Bucky," you whimpered, pausing slightly to wait for a reply you would never receive, "so I officially kicked myself off the team yesterday. I think they always knew if I ever came back it would be the last time they would see me but, none the less, hope radiated off their faces."

Composing yourself you turned to knock on the door just as it flew open, taken back you quickly looked up and saw a security camera pointed straight in your direction. Of course, as soon as you entered the city, F.R.I.D.A.Y would follow your every step, she would know where you were heading before you even did yourself.

"Y/N?" A voice gasped. Looking into the doorway you saw tears already spewing from their eyes, a look of complete shock and confusion written upon their face as they battled between not touching you in case you disappeared and launching themselves on you in a hug.

"Hey Romanoff, looking good!" You chuckled, winking at her with your usual bubbly nature and, with that, she picked the latter, engulfing you in love, a feeling you hadn't felt directed towards yourself in a long time.

"Y/N, you came at just the right time, everyone's here and we were just making dinner, you can join us. Please sit next to me! I swear if Tony steals you away to show you his toys I will tackle him to the ground..." Standing there, watching her rant on about everything you missed, broke your heart into a million pieces and not wanting to forget the way it felt to have a best friend, you took everything in. The way sunlight made her auburn hair shine and her eyes sparkle, how her face constantly portrayed a look of control and reservation, she was sarcastic and, oh so, beautiful.

Breathing in her sexy aroma, shivers ran down your spine, it was something you had once been incredibly jealous of. Guys had always looked past you and straight to the beauty that now stood in front you, it had always made you upset until you met Bucky. Then, you were happy to have their eyes pass over you as you knew Bucky's never would.

The rest of the evening was a blur as wide eyes and open arms greeted you - in an instant, everyone forgot the last couple of years and everything that caused the separation. No one asked questions, no one felt they needed to, you were back and you were safe - that was all that mattered.

"Steve was there, I don't know why I was expecting him not to be or, maybe, I was just hoping that he wouldn't be. Hoping that I wouldn't have to put myself through the pain and realisation that I'd been forgiven by him but never by myself."

The sound of Steve's voice brought you back into reality as he stared in bewilderment at you from the other side of the room. With tears racing down his cheeks, he ran towards you, engulfed you in a hug and stifled your whimpers as you tried to apologise.

"The really fucked up thing is I want to go back. I want to watch shitty films on movie nights, I want to prank people with Peter, I want to paint my nails with Nat and I want to train with Steve. I want to hug him, I want to spend the rest of my days making it up to him and I want you to be there with me. I want to lie in your arms and kiss you good night-" By now, you weren't technically even speaking English, it was more of a mixture between heart raking sobs and a few understandable syllables.

Taking a long, deep breath you composed yourself and continued.

"Tony gave me some gifts, I don't think he could resist. They're beautiful but dangerous, they remind me of you. Everything reminds me of you..."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y has been telling me all about your secret missions and I wanted to thank you by giving you a couple of 'small' gifts," Tony said, with a smirk planted firmly on his face as he led you through the maze that was the Avengers main base.

"Tony," you sighed, rolling your eyes, "you know I hate unnecessarily expensive presents."

"Oh no, you'll like these ones. Trust me!" Tony chuckled in return as he was reminded of all the times he tried to shower you in luxuries and all the times those luxuries were instantly returned back to the store.

You silently thanked Tony for respecting the fact you didn't want to discuss the missions on which the gifts were to be used. You knew Tony often watched over you, your personal guardian angel, ready to call for backup if any was needed, hell, if you were in trouble he'd fly in there himself without a second thought. But he also knew the more personal side to the missions, every one directed at a Hydra base Bucky might have stayed in an effort to find information on how to reverse the curse Hydra had placed on him.

The next couple of hours were spent working with Tony as he modified the armour and weapons he had designed and made specifically for you. Each piece was as perfect as the other, you cringed at how long Tony must have worked on them for. Motivated by the hope that one day he would be able to give you them in person, that you would one day come back alive.

As if reading your mind, Tony let out a sob, a sob so full of pain and hurt it was like a million knives had been stabbed into your chest. Sitting down next to Tony you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn off the camera and joined in. It lasted for about half an hour; both of you clinging onto each other for dear life - Tony crying as he felt responsible for your departure and the imprisonment of Bucky, as you cried knowing eventually you'd have to leave all the happiness you'd felt the last couple of days behind you.

"Soon enough, my time was up and I said my last goodbyes. I was finally leaving for good."

Taking a deep breath you knew it was time, you'd stayed for way too long already and if you stayed another day you felt like you would never leave.

It wasn't fair to do that to the team, forcing them to constantly be on the edge of their seats, forcing them to constantly anticipate your departure. None of it was fair, you knew you hadn't acted in the right way, turning up out of nowhere, interrupting the swing of things. You'd been selfish and you were about to be selfish again: break everyone's heart another time.

"Vision," you called out, "it's time."

Appearing from thin air, he entered the room with a solemn look on his face. "Y/N, I urge you to think about this, there must be another way, the only thing everyone wants is for you to be happy and safe. Your best chances to be those two things are here with us."

"Don't you think I know that?" You shouted, instantly sighing at the fact you'd accidentally and unnecessarily raised your voice, directing your anger at the one person who deserved it the least. Lowering it to almost a whisper, you looked down at your feet. "Vision, please ask everyone to meet in the common room in half an hour and, please, don't make this harder than it already is."

Once all your bags had been packed and gifts collected, you headed to your doom. Walking into the doors you found everyone gathered round the table; Sam and Nat were laughing with Cap about something or, more likely, laughing at Cap about something, Vision and Wanda sat together talking in hushed voices and Hawkeye joined Banner in a conversation about something way too complicated for this time in the morning. Searching for Tony, a hand enclosed around yours, giving it a squeeze. "You don't have to do this, we can work something out," Tony pleaded, without even looking, you could sense the tears building in his eyes.

Encapsulating him in a hug, you whispered in his ear, "Don't lie to yourself, Tony. We both know I have no other choice."

Silence fell as people noticed your presence and tension filled the air. Giving you one last squeeze, Tony kissed your cheek. "You always have a choice."

"I hate it all so much because I want to go home but even more than that, I need you Bucky, I need you to come back to me," With that, you finally, utterly and completely fell apart.

Moments later, arms wrapped around your figure - one inhumanly stronger than the other.

"Let's go home, doll."

A/N: Dun! Dun! DUNNNNNNN! Constructive crititism is appreciated!