#Baast

[mlpoutofcontext]

[skogenraev]

Bastet

Deity of the Week

Bastet

Origin: Egypt

Bastet, great cat goddess, has dominion over sex, fertility, marriage, magic, music, childbirth, prosperity, joy, dance, and healing—in short, the pleasures of life. She protects humans against infertility, dangers of childbirth, "evil" spirits, illness, and bodily injuries, especially those caused by venomous creatures. A tomb inscription says Bastet bestows “life, prosperity and health every day and long life and beautiful old age.”

Bastet offers special protection to women and children and serves as matron of magicians and healers. Her cult began in the Nile Delta swamps. The earliest known portrait of Bastet dates to circa 3,000 BCE. By about 950 BCE, she was worshipped throughout Egypt. For a while, she was the most popular goddess in the kingdom. Her veneration reached its zenith during the reign of Osorkon II (874–853 BCE), when a major temple was erected at her cult city, Bubastis. Devotion to Bastet officially survived until 30 BCE and the Roman conquest, the Romans having little sympathy for animal-shaped gods.

Her annual festival in Bubastis was Egypt’s most popular. A precursor of modern Mardi Gras, it was renowned for parties, ||revelry, and drunkenness.|| Herodotus, the Greek traveler and historian writing in the fifth century BCE, claimed that more ||wine|| was consumed in Egypt during this festival than during the entire rest of the year. Although many details are lost, Bastet’s festival celebrated female sexuality and generative power. Boats sailed up the Nile toward Bubastis. As each barge approached towns and settlements, it would halt and the mainly female celebrants on board would loudly hail local women congregating on the riverbanks. Bastet may be the wife and/or daughter of Ra, the sun and Isis. Among the spirits described as her sons are Maahes, Khonsu, and Nefertem.

Iconography: She is depicted as a cat, often bejeweled, or as a woman with a cat’s head, sometimes surrounded by kittens and fashionably dressed in a green or blue dress. Attributes: Basket and ankh (symbol of life) Planets: Sun and moon Color: Green Animal: Domestic cats are her servants and sacred animals.:arrowpink: Offerings: Her name may be related to a word meaning “perfume.” Ancient Egyptian perfume was typically in the form of a salve. Offer her precious cream perfumes or offerings that benefit her sacred animal, cats, Cat Imagery, Protection Magic in her Honour, Keep cat statues out front of your house as protectors , Learn who you are, Dance, Fruits, Donate to, volunteer at, or otherwise support cats at shelters,

[everf-redesign]

So for this redesign I actually rolled "My choice other", so I went and tracked down the felines! This lovely lil kitty is indeed a canon character (If you take the IDW comics as canon, which I do, due to "Season 10")

Baast is the leader of this lil feline resistance in ancient anugypt, and she basically is trying to overthrow anubis and his dogfolk that are in charge of the place.

I don't really remember much about her, except that she's fast. So I swapped out her jewelry for some simpler pieces that would be easier to move in.

I really, REALLY R E A L L Y wanted to cut down on the amount of tails she has, the problem is that as soon as I did that she turned into a bad Espeon rip off. Soooo yeah they had to stay.

Anyways, I'll be making an archive soon so keep ur eyes out for that!

[sasa-chan]

Bastet, Bast, B'sst, Baast, Ubaste, Baset

Ancient Egyptian goddess.

Originally a lioness goddess.

Depicted as a cat or a woman with the head of a cat.

Consort of Ptah.

[judahmaccabees]

[smallbluetiger]

[beatrack92]

Hanna van Baast and Myke van de Wiel 🇳🇱

2024 Multistars Brescia

[coinandcandle]

Bast Deity Guide

Who is Bast?

The Egyptian goddess is known by many as Bastet, her name is transliterated as b-ꜣ-s-t-t and is pronounced as “Bast”. The Hieroglyphs for her name look something like this: 𓎯𓏏𓏏𓁐 or 𓎯𓏏𓏏

She is most notably a goddess of domesticity, the home, cats, and women. Bast was among the most popular Egyptian deities and her cult ran as far as Rome.

Originally she was depicted as a goddess with a lioness’ head instead of a cat, and she was closely related to Sekhmet, the warrior goddess. Bast’s role was that of protector and avenger of Ra Over time Bast’s depiction softened and she became a goddess related to domesticity and the home. However, she kept the ferocious side of her, only ever using it when needed. She was known to be loving and nurturing but also she was a force to be reckoned with. Bastet used this fury to avenge those who have been wronged, carried on through her son, Maahes, the protector of the innocent.

Due to her association as the Eye of Ra, Bast was more of a solar deity before she became conflated with the Greek Artemis.

Parents and Siblings

Ra (father)

Isis (mother, later in antiquity)

Horus (brother, twin brother later in antiquity)

Anhur (brother

Lovers or Partners

Ptah

Children

Maahes (son)

Nefertum (son, sometimes)

Epithets

Beautiful sistrum (rattle) player

The Golden One/The Beautiful One

The Lady of Dread

The Lady of Slaughter

The Eye of Ra - a title held by a group of deities.

Lady of the Ointments

Lady of the East

Goddess of the Rising Sun

Sacred and All Seeing Eye

Notes

Her name also is rendered as B'sst, Baast, Ubaste, and Baset

Though sometimes synchronized with Mut, the goddess Bast was never depicted as fully human. She was always depicted as either a cat or a woman with the head of a cat, lion, or desert cat.

In Ancient Greece, she was known as Ailuros (”cat”) and she was likened to Artemis. Because of this association, she was given a twin brother just like Artemis has: Horus became her twin brother and since Horus is Isis’ son, Bast became Isis’ daughter.

Bast was also synchronized with Sekhmet, Hathor, and Isis and picked up some of their associations throughout time.

The meaning of her name is uncertain though it’s possible that her name meant She of the Ointment Jar (Ubaste). This would also point to her relation to perfume.

The central city of her cult was Bubastis. People would travel to this city to have the bodies of their pet cats who have passed buried.

It’s common for people to view Bast as a sexual deity or a goddess of lust, but she tends to lean more toward domesticity and protection. This misunderstanding likely came from her later conflation with Hathor as well as one account from Herodotus who had observed the festival in Bubastis in honor of Bast.

An annual festival was held at Bubastis where supposedly all constraints on women were released and they would celebrate “by drinking, dancing, making music, and displaying their genitals" (Gerald Pincher, quoting Herodotus). This display depicted the fertility aspect of the goddess as well as being a sign of freedom from societal constraints.

Bast has been depicted holding a sistrum, a musical instrument similar to a rattle.

Bast is one of many gods who are referred to as the “Eye of Ra”, a title that belongs to deities that are protectors or avengers.

She has been known as the protector of the dead as well.

As cats were sacred to this goddess, to harm one was seen as a slight to Bast.

Mummified cats were often delivered to Bast’s temple as an offering.

Modern Deity Work

These are modern correspondences, anything with historical or traditional backing will be marked with a (T).

Correspondences

Rocks/Stone/Crystals

Gold (T) - Cats of royalty were sometimes known to don gold jewelry

Tiger’s eye

Cat’s eye

Bronze (T) - Bronze statues were used as votive offerings for Bast

Herbs/Plants

Ivy

Catnip

Rosemary

Mint (catnip is in the mint family also)

Animals

Cat, namely housecats but all cats could qualify

Symbols

Sistrum (rattle) (T)

Cat (T)

Eye of Ra (T)

Offerings

Cat imagery

Whiskers, claws, and teeth of cats (only if sourced ethically!)

Lapis Lazuli, Turquoise, Emerald, Carnelian, Quartz, Malachite, and Galena were used in Ancient Egypt for jewelry or various cosmetics and could be offered. (The Structure of Crystals. Early historical notes)

Perfume or scented oils

Alcohol (such as wine or beer)

Fruit

Grains

Honey

Incenses or resins (T)

Jewelry

Acts of Devotion

Donate to, volunteer at, or otherwise support cats at shelters.

Pray to her or write poems in her honor

Research her

Honor your mother or the mother figure(s) in your life

Protect and fight for the innocent

Dance!

Play music or curate a playlist in honor of her

Learn about perfume and scented oils and how they were used and made in Ancient Egypt

Take care of your home

Of course, these are only suggestions based on my research but when making offerings to deities it's always best to do what feels right to you. You can also reach out to the deity and ask them yourself if you feel comfortable doing so.

References and Further Reading

Bast - eqyptianmuseum.org

Bastet - Britannica

Bastet - World History

Bastet - ARCE

Per-bast.org (The whole website is informational but this link will send you to their sources page!)

Offerings for Bast - The Gourmet Witch (blog)

Kemetic Offering Guide - The Twisted Rope (blog)

[feysandwh0re]

rereading acosf and when nesta and gwyn can feel the darkness in the library, gwyn says “i can feel something. like a cat. small and clever and curious. it’s watching.” and now that i’ve read throne of glass, all i can think of are the baast cats that protect the torre library

[templeofoccultpractices]

Bastet

Other names:Bast

Major cult center:Bubastis

Symbol:cat, lioness, ointment jar, sistrum, solar disk

Parents:Ra and Isis

Siblings:Horus and Anhur (half-brothers)

Consort:Ptah

Offspring:Maahes

Connection to other gods:Sekhmet, Hathor, Rāt, Tem, Artemis

Celebrations

Bubastis celebrations of Bastet 'Feast of drunkenness'

Bubasteia was celebrated by intoxication,music, debauchery, children would be born without fathers on this day.

Bastet was a goddess of ancient Egyptian religion, worshipped as early as the Second Dynasty (2890 BCE). Her name also is rendered as B'sst, Baast, Ubaste, and Baset. In ancient Greek religion, she was known as Ailuros (Koinē Greek: αἴλουρος "cat").

Bastet was worshipped in Bubastis in Lower Egypt, originally as a lioness goddess, a role shared by other deities such as Sekhmet. Eventually Bastet and Sekhmet were characterized as two aspects of the same goddess, with Sekhmet representing the powerful warrior and protector aspect and Bastet, who increasingly was depicted as a cat, representing a gentler aspect

Role In Ancient Egypt

Bastet was originally a fierce lioness warrior goddess of the sun worshipped throughout most of ancient Egyptian history, but later she became the cat goddess that is familiar today. She then was depicted as the daughter of Ra and Isis, and the consort of Ptah, with whom she had a son Maahes.

As protector of Lower Egypt, she was seen as defender of the king, and consequently of the sun god, Ra. Along with other deities such as Hathor, Sekhmet, and Isis, Bastet was associated with the Eye of Ra.She has been depicted as fighting the serpent named Apep, an enemy of Ra. In addition to her solar connections, sometimes she was called "eye of the moon".

Bastet was also a goddess of pregnancy and childbirth, possibly because of the fertility of the domestic cat.

Images of Bastet were often created from alabaster. The goddess was sometimes depicted holding a ceremonial sistrum in one hand and an aegis in the other—the aegis usually resembling a collar or gorget, embellished with a lioness head.

Bastet was also depicted as the goddess of protection against contagious diseases and malicious spirits.

History

Bastet first appears in the third millennium BCE, where she is depicted as either a fierce lioness or a woman with the head of a lioness.Two thousand years later, during the Third Intermediate Period of Egypt (c. 1070–712 BC), Bastet began to be depicted as a domestic cat or a cat-headed woman.

Scribes of the New Kingdom and later eras began referring to her with an additional feminine suffix, as Bastet. The name change is thought to have been added to emphasize pronunciation of the ending t sound, often left silent.

Cats in ancient Egypt were highly revered, partly due to their ability to combat vermin such as mice, rats (which threatened key food supplies), and snakes—especially cobras. Cats of royalty were, in some instances, known to be dressed in golden jewelry and were allowed to eat from the plates of their owners. Dennis C. Turner and Patrick Bateson estimate that during the Twenty-second Dynasty (c. 945–715 BC), Bastet worship changed from being a lioness deity into being predominantly a major cat deity.Because domestic cats tend to be tender and protective of their offspring, Bastet was also regarded as a good mother and sometimes was depicted with numerous kittens.

The native Egyptian rulers were replaced by Greeks during an occupation of Ancient Egypt in the Ptolemaic Dynasty that lasted almost 300 years. The Greeks sometimes equated Bastet with one of their goddesses, Artemis

Festival

Herodotus also relates that of the many solemn festivals held in Egypt, the most important and most popular one was that celebrated in Bubastis in honor of this goddess.Each year on the day of her festival, the town was said to have attracted some 700,000 visitors, both men and women (but not children), who arrived in numerous crowded ships. The women engaged in music, song, and dance on their way to the place. Great sacrifices were made and prodigious amounts of wine were drunk—more than was the case throughout the year.This accords well with Egyptian sources that prescribe that lioness goddesses are to be appeased with the "feasts of drunkenness".A festival of Bastet was known to be celebrated during the New Kingdom at Bubastis. The block statue from the eighteenth dynasty (c. 1380 BC) of Nefer-ka, the wab-priest of Sekhmet,provides written evidence for this. The inscription suggests that the king, Amenhotep III, was present at the event and had great offerings made to the deity.

──────⊰In Workings⊱──────

*Please know basic protections and energy work before attempting any deity work.*

*It is important to note that everyone's experiences are different and will work with spirits for different reasons. Some people may like a spirit while others will not and that's okay. Ask these spirits what they will work with you on as well as ask them if they can help you with whatever it is you need.*

Ideas for honoring or working with/worshipping Bastet

Altar

Create an altar/sacred space for your rituals and giving offerings for Bastet. Items may include

⬩An altar cloth

⬩Black or yellow candles (you can use any color)

⬩Cup or chalice

⬩Incense and an incense burner

⬩Offering bowl

⬩Statue of Bastet, cat or lion

For more information on basic deity work and altar setups check out the deity work post.

Offering items:Bread, Catnip, Fish, Frankincense, Meats, Myrrh, Perfume bottle, Sistrum, Water

Rituals

⬩Fertility rites and rituals

⬩Protection

⬩Motherhood

⬩You can ask her what she can help you with⬩

𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠𓃠

For more content relating to other practices/religions or pantheons follow my main blog for updates or ask me anything

If you have any more questions or wish to join a community feel free to join my 18+ discord server

Ask me anything on my blog

[rootsinthefuture]

NASA's secret mission: Bastet II

In 1976, NASA launched a secret mission called Bastet II, an ambitious and controversial project to send cats into space. The aim of the mission was to study the effects of weightlessness on felines and to evaluate the possibility of using them as companions for astronauts on extended space missions.

Despite the utmost secrecy, some information about the mission was leaked thanks to an insider who revealed the existence of photos and the mission logo. The pictures showed the cats inside a space capsule specially designed to house them, while the logo depicted a stylised cat with an astronaut's helmet and the inscription 'Bastet II'.

The reasons why NASA chose to keep the Bastet II mission secret are still not entirely clear. However, it is speculated that the space agency wanted to avoid controversy surrounding the use of animals in space experiments, especially after the criticism it received for sending dogs and monkeys into space in the 1960s.

Despite the passage of years, the outcomes of the Bastet II mission remain shrouded in mystery. No official report has ever been published and the fate of the cats involved in the mission is unknown. Some claim that the felines managed to survive and were recovered at the end of the mission, while others believe that the mission failed and the cats died in space.

The story of the Bastet II mission remains a fascinating and disturbing enigma, a dark chapter in the history of space conquest that raises as yet unresolved ethical and scientific questions.

The name of the mission was very probably inspired by the goddess of ancient Egyptian religion, venerated since the Second Dynasty (2890 BC) whose name is rendered as B'sst , Baast , Ubaste and B'aset precisely. Bastet was worshiped in Bubastis in Lower Egypt, originally as a lioness goddess, a role shared by other deities such as Sekhmet. Eventually Bastet and Sekhmet were characterized as two aspects of the same goddess, with Sekhmet representing the powerful warrior and protector aspect, and Bastet, who increasingly was depicted as a cat, representing a gentler aspect. The fact that there is a number 2 in Roman numerals suggests that this was the second mission of this type. The movement of the mission which in Latin avoids ""The hasty cat makes blind kittens" makes us think of an attitude of NASA that wanted to take the necessary time to do things right. But what exactly it refers to remains a mystery

[blodgmonster]

Tandem reread of Empire of Storms and Tower of Dawn commentary. Part of one of several I assume.

I've never done the tandem read before. It should be interesting and take some of the sting out of Tower of Dawn. Reading about Chaol when I know Aelin is suffering innumerable tortures was difficult to handle.

-- Erawan has shed his Duke Perrington skin.

-- why would Darrow turn down Aelin? Yeah, she's not the perfect princess and has a past and her court is a bit sus. But she's also the only living Galathynius, a magical powerhouse, and willing to fight for her country, for her world. Don't those things outweigh the negative?

-- Chaol's paralysis is handled in a slightly...ableist manner isn't it?

-- "I assume she has the misfortune of sharing your bed these days." Sick fucking burn, Yrene!

-- "So you, Granddaughter, will not die for this but one of your Thirteen will." Fucking bitch.

-- Fam, I am STRUGGLING with this tandem reread. I get going with EoS and get into it and then I have to switch to ToD (time of death), my least fave of the series (I know that'll piss off some folks) and it's like pulling teeth.

-- Yrene holding the crying healer's hand. I love Yrene. She deserves so much better than Chaol.

-- I LOOOOOVE the Baast Cats

-- oh shit! I forgot that the healer Yrene comforts in the baths is the one who gets killed.

-- Aelin roasting that asshole commander from the inside out is priceless.

-- "'She's not Valg is she?'

A low laugh. "No. As cold as one but no." DING DONG YOU WERE WRONG, BRANNON.

-- I forgot about the overseer from Endovier and Erawan peeking out through his fucking chest.

-- some fanart has ruks with four legs. I thought they were just massive eagles with two legs. I wonder which is correct. Either way, I love them.

-- "'Bring my body back to the cabin.' Something in Manon's chest broke — broke so violently that she wondered if it was possible for no one to have heard it." That's LOVE, babygirl

-- " Manon met Sorrel's eyes, then Astrin's. And Manon gave the Thirteen her final order. 'Run.' Then Manon Blackbeak whirled and brought Wind-Cleaver down upon her grandmother."

-- This bitch killed Manon's mother (her own child), Manon's father, made Manon into a weapon, mutilated Asterin, wants to kill Abraxos, and is in the process of trying to kill Manon. Fuck her.

-- "A Crochan Queen." Fucking game changer.

-- I looooooove that Manon hears a solitary boom and KNOWS it's Abraxos coming for her and TRUSTS enough to throw herself off the balcony. Their bond is off the charts.

-- Man, I reeeeeally don't want to switch over to ToD. I like Yrene and Nesyrn and Sartaq and the ruks and the baast cats. But Chaol.

-- Yrene is struggling to ride a horse at a walk, grabbing the saddle horn and freaking out at any unexpected movement. I swear her and Chaol have a horse race later in the book. When did she suddenly become a good enough rider to gallop flat out across the desert?

-- the young healers dragging Chaol around like a Ken doll...

-- "they will try to move you somewhere else. Never let them do it."

-- Abraxos is the BEST mother hen. I love him so, so, so much.

-- Chaol's brother is named Terrin and unless I'm mistaken SJM'S son is named Taran. Very similar.

-- "He wished he'd been able to walk. So she could see him crawl toward her." Chaol, boy!!!!!! Improvement in more than just your feet!

-- "She was fine with it, she told herself. She had been a replacement for not one, but two of the women in his life. A third...She was fine with it." Nesryn, baby girl, you deserve soooo much better. And is name is Sartaq.

-- "He should have been better. Treated her better." DO YA THINK!??? He regrets treating Nesryn poorly and so he treats Yrene shittily. Chaol, I take it back, you're still a dipshit.

-- "'Don't you waste one heartbeat being afraid of a coward who hunts women in the darkness,' Chaol snapped at her." Chaol, make up your mind. Do you suck or are you alright?

-- Elide tells Lorcan her uncle locked her in the dungeon and there's a surge of dark power that sacres everyone around them. Delicious.

Mmmmkay, I'll start a part two. I'm starting to warm up to the tandem read a bit. But it's still a bit of a slog.

[ladydisharmony]

my favorite headcanon ive made is that discord was a fucking hoe that had so many one night stands and always stole something on his way out. thats why my homechick baast was so fucking offended at fluttershys presence 💔……..

oh he absolutely fucked. he’s centuries old he has been passed AROUND. his relationships were always fleeting and the one night stands were in the hundreds. not only does he bring a million different possibilities to the sex table…look how charming he is….entp swag just too captivating

like baast saying discord doesn’t have friends (he gets bitches), and their behavior during that interaction? that’s an old flame baby

[acourtofquestions]

Okay so my week is only getting less conducive to reading & posting so here’s some reaction spam of random round ups throughout ToD & KoA as fast as my thumbs can type them & whatever my brain recalls cause I’ve gotta squeal this out before I implode & then go try to sleep so I don’t fully make tomorrow miserably impossible & long😂

The line in ToD about Nesryn’s nieces & nephews being the light of her life gets me every time🥹😭 I love how we got to see & meet her family, I love how that led to her further connection with Sartaq, I love how his family was close enough to stop with the whole ritualistic murder thing

Chaol’s arc was so well done I have so many thoughts but mostly my old CoM self is just glad to be back here AND YRENE TOWERS MY WYRD I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER literally just I LOVE HER and I want a Baast cat

Inaccessibility being one of the biggest issues is such a relatable real world problem like how have people with magic not figured this out yet I wonder the same thing everytime I go somewhere that doesn’t have ramps handicap parking sign translators etc

Chaol recognizing Celaena’s handwriting and then telling Yrene the story will forever be such a 🥹 moment

The way he healed was beautiful too, the chapter facing Aelin, the discussions with Yrene

And again just AGAIN everything about Yrene

And Nesryn who is so underrated and I just want the world for our Empress queeeeen

The tiny Easter eggs leading to everything essentially rounding up the series to Aelin doing small acts of kindness that come full circle and save everyone is so beautiful

I hate Maeve, I am now claustrophobic, and having my old Peeta days come back to me from HG

Those were some of the most painful chapters I’d ever read

Aelin def knows somethings up with Maeve and the Valg

Dorian planning to take the price is horrifying and yet also comforting and yet horrifying and the two of them plotting it out is making me nervous

KALTAINS GHOST

Dorian and Manon are absolute gold

Them and the thirteen — I mean this content is just fantastic — we’re getting some great Vesta moments

The new power is also interesting & cool

I know Aedion’s hurting but wow could you be anymore of an asshole towards Lys? Look what she did was horrible (mostly cause the whole let’s make the world think you married your cousin thing is wrong on so many levels) that aside she was just doing what HER queen said she loves Aelin she didn’t want this either and he needs to deal with his own shit and stop putting it on Lysandra I mean LYSANDRA OF ALL PEOPLE CAN THE WOMAN GET A BREAK

Darrow I hate you still

Nox I’m still not over you being back thanks buddy I missed ya

Lorcan finding Aelin first and sobbing in relief has so much depth to it I’m gonna have to discuss later

Even their bickering it’s a bit of a relief to have the spark and almost normal… not forgiven just better I guess

And then him saying he already thought Elide was powerful and he crawled for Aelin not Maeve

And all the I CARE ABOUT YOU scenes with SO MANY OF THEM we got Manorian we got Elorcan we still got Rowaelin now we got platonic stuff with Fenrys the list GOES ON

Curious what Rens figuring out cause someone’s gotta be figuring out the whole isn’t Aelin thing and I have a feeling his Lysandra obsession is more than that

Glad to see sweet Evangeline again… I’ll feel better when we get so safe Fleetfoot comes home

Anxious over my war side babies cause there REALLL deep in the bad stuff

The one thing I CAN thank SJM for is not making Fenrys hurt Aelin I spend half the time terrified that was gonna be the next play though the freaky dreams were a whole new level of fucked up not to mention the fact they stole her scars because that’s how mutilated she was and now she’s foreign to herself and my heart hurts

Also the do not yield scene😭

And Fireheart being my new fav all time term of endearment

And their (Fenrys & Aelin) blinking code … honestly I need to put it on a bookmark for frequent translation

And again Fenrys who btw BABE WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME I ABOUT LOST IT WHEN I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD BUT HE BROKE THE OATH FOR HER AND THEN THEIR HUG AND ALL OF IT AND ALSO

I started wondering the same thing about could you double oath it and cancel it out so I finally got my oath answer and lost it again because the iron “take it off” scene… idk which even came first just ow and then LIVE.

The moment Aelin realizes it’s really Rowan

And then he says can I hold you

And then that he’d love her even if she never got back to who she was

And then she’s still storing power away and a half living inferno and probably gonna go save the day

and she’s trying but she doesn’t know what’s real but Fenrys reminded her and she’s trying so hard

And she got the rings

And the I’m so tired Rowan line that broke me again

And the beautiful things glowworm starry night

Then there’s again Elide and Lorcan

The impending Morath

Dorian and Manon shenanigans

All these sub plots I’m sure are gonna be a big deal

Chaol hasn’t even caught up yet

And Yrene is PREGNANT?!

And I still can’t wait for them all to meet

And then AGAIN with the little folk

And the crown of Mab though now it’s kinda got bad vibes tbh

And all the queenlyness Aelin STILL is

And the scene where Rowan sees what would’ve been his children and her seeing how he would’ve been her mate either way

And then her hair being too long and the tattoos gone and this terribly long list

And him coming for her And her thinking he wouldn’t and his words on that

Aelin telling Rowan she didn’t break

Rowan calling Fenrys brother

Elides wisdom always saving the day

Lysandra becoming Wivern and so many things to save them all

Finally meeting the bane

Chaol going back to Anielle

Connall who we barely got to know and idk what was even real

And now no one knows where Maeve or mystery last cadre is

Ugh I need more time but alas this is the round up to shortly delve into more cause I do have annotations lol

Okay this has been fangirl screaming in Wyvern

Ps ABRAXOS HAS A MATE SITTING IN A TREE LOL

[oromaangel]

CREEPIN’ PART 1

A/N: Hey guys, this is the first fic im posting here and the first one I've written since my My Little Pony era so in the words of Adele go easy on me.

Word Count: 0.9k

Summary: You're a terrible hider both you and Shuri know this so after being caught and having your plans foiled so many times you decide to conjure up a more elaborate scheme.

Themes: Fluff, Comedy, Very unserious

Today would be the day.

After numerous attempts in the past two weeks, all of which resulted in blank stares and cocky laughter, today would finally be the day you scare Shuri. Shifting quietly in the uncomfortable dark closet you decide to reminisce on all your failed attempts while waiting for your target to arrive

.

.

.

.

.

Last Week

“Your highness, I should report Y/N is currently down in the lab”

“Again?” Shuri said through a laugh of both humour and disbelief. This was the third time this week you had tried to scare her and every time you’d forgotten to take off your kimoyo beads that revealed your exact location. If she wasn’t so amused by your persistence and terrible hiding skills she would find this little game quite annoying. But she loved you and she loved winning so in that moment Shuri decided to play along…again.

In a dark corner of the lowest levels in the palace you stood still as a Dora. You were proud of yourself. Learning from your past failures you were dressed in black from head to toe and wore the plushest pair of socks you owned.

Your first attempt ended in Shuri asking what an oversized packet of bubble gum was doing sneaking up behind her. Reflecting on that day made you wonder why you thought wearing pink pyjamas and trying to sneak up on someone standing in front of a mirror was a good idea.

Shivering slightly from the cold floor of the lab, Shuri’s comments about your heavy rhino feet giving you away only stung a tiny bit but at the very least gave you some constructive criticism.

You were ready this time, today would be the day.

The zipping of the elevator informed you of her arrival. Your breath ceased and you proceeded with your best impression of a statue.

Even from the top of the lab Shuri could see you. Given her vision had enhanced significantly since drinking the heart shaped herb but even the oldest of council elders could see you standing in the corner trying not to breathe. At first Shuri thought to simply announce her arrival to make you aware of your fourth failure but just as the words were about to leave her lips the spirit of mischievous took over and she reached for the light switch.

At first you were confused and let out the breath you were holding ‘Was she locking up for the night??’ You thought in a panic ‘Oh no I’m gonna be stuck down here’ The perceived reality of the situation set in and you began to frantically feel around in the dark trying to navigate your way back to the elevator.

“Shuri? Shuri! Wait for me please, I'm still down here!” You pleaded to no response. Panic began to rise up your throat, not only were you stuck down here for the night but it was really dark and you hated the dark.

In a split second just as your foot contacted with the second platform you felt something wrap around your waist and pull you to the floor.

The scream that escaped your body would make even a Dora flinch. Your life began to flash before your eyes and you mentally began your apologies to Baast and your ancestors before a familiar laugh rang through your ears.

“Shuri!” You shrieked, eyes blinking feverishly trying to adjust to the low lighting.

“Griot, turn on the lights” Shuri's voice commanded through coughs and heaves and graced you with the gift of vision again. You turned to your loving girlfriend capsized on the floor laughing and your face began to heat up.

“It’s not funny,” You pouted “You could have given me a heart attack!” Shuri turned to your sulking frame, tears still forming in her eyes and cooed at you.

“I’m sorry love but you make it so easy”

.

.

.

.

Present Day

Shuri knew you were there. She knew because when she went to grab something from your shared bedroom your kimoyo beads were on the dresser, something you never do unless you both quarrelled in the morning ‘Must have learnt from last time' she left the room in search of her sneaky lover.

When she enquired her favourite AI assistant about what corner you had tucked yourself into Griot responded with

“I have been asked to withhold that information your Highness, my apologies” Shuri scoffed again, since when does an AI not follow her instructions, maybe her mother was right about that. Nevermind Griot’s disloyalty, she knew where you’d be hiding because it’s the same place you hid the other five times. The lab.

Arriving on the bottom floor the elevator doors opened to a suspiciously quiet laboratory. No heavy breathing, no stifled laughs, and no comically timed stomach grumbles. If Y/N was in here she was doing a great job at not making it known. Shuri shut her eyes. She was in search of any sort of clue to where you’d be hiding. She waltzed slowly through the lab whipping her head round corners and swinging closet doors open in an attempt to startle you. When she finished, it was as though a tornado had made its way through the room and yet still no sign of where her girlfriend was hiding.

‘Maybe we fought in the morning and I forgot?’ Shuri disregarded the silly idea because if you two did fight she would have felt a lot worse throughout the day. Shrugging her shoulders Shuri concluded that you must have been hiding somewhere else and she was going to find you.

A/N: reposting this cause tumblr hid my first one, hopefully this one goes alot smoother

[thewitchoftheweed]

Crossing Paths

The village is silent. 

Shamura stays cautious as they approach, a laughably short dagger clutched tightly in one of their hands. As always, Kallamar presses close, almost to the point of tripping on Shamura’s cloak. His tiny tentacles grip their clothes, small black eyes searching every shadow for hidden dangers. 

As they get closer, they expect to at least see some lights on in the windows. People walking home, or talking with their neighbors. They see a hole half-dug. They see bodies bound in white sheets, in piles. Kallamar is now visibly shaking. They still haven’t convinced him to wield a weapon, even in self-defense. He just cries. 

“Maybe we should leave,” Kallamar whispers.

Shamura listens hard for any sign of life. Spiders aren’t known for their excellent hearing, but years of surviving on their own have forced them to be observant. They expect coughing, groaning, anything. But there’s nothing. 

They reach the village center. All the shops and homes are dark. There are more piles of bodies here, all hastily wrapped in sheets. Some are beginning to decompose where they lay, staining the linen of their shrouds. Kallamar wraps four tentacles around one of Shamura’s arms, as though the corpses might reanimate at any second and attack. Shamura feels a sense of grim recognition settle over them. No natural plague kills this completely. 

The statue in the center of the village all but confirms it. A lion goddess, Baast, stands as a stoic witness to the destruction. She holds a bowl that could contain a fire, but the ashes have long gone cold. A divine plague, another community abandoned by their deity. 

They will find no one to trade with here, only graves to rob. Shamura sighs. “They’re all dead, Kallamar. They can’t hurt you.”

“What if there’s a necromancer nearby?” he asks, voice trembling.

“Then we have bigger problems. Come on; we may be able to find something we can use.” They have to practically drag Kallamar into the first hut. It’s thankfully empty; perhaps its occupants are already wrapped in sheets outside. Shamura starts opening drawers, cabinets, chests, whatever they can find. There isn’t much to take; some dried herbs, a couple of quilts, a singular smoked fish. They move to the next house. 

“I don’t like it here, Mura,” Kallamar says. He’s no longer clinging to them like a flea, but he doesn’t dare stray further than a couple feet. “This place is cursed. We should leave.”

“We need food,” Shamura insists. The cold hard truth of the matter is they might be the first to find this blighted village. They could go years without seeing a scavenging opportunity this bountiful. “Let’s just look around some more. Hold my hand if you’re scared.” 

A little tentacle once again wraps around their nearest free hand. They give it a reassuring squeeze and keep moving. Some of the buildings are occupied, but none of the residents ever stir. They lie in their beds, on the dirt floor, curled up in agony or lying as though sleeping. 

But at least there’s a decent amount of scavenge. They find a number of tools and utensils, several more quilts, smoked fish, a few salted hares, three loaves of bread, and even a pot of cream. All the food is still edible and fresh; the plague burned through these people like wildfire. 

A mere week ago, maybe days, this place had been full of life. Now it’s a graveyard, creatures decomposing where they fell. 

They slip into the last house, its only door a black beaded curtain. It’s a sparse hut. There is one bed, a wardrobe, and two stools set beside the fireplace. A female cat lies in the bed, her arms wrapped around a black kitten. Both of them are so newly dead they hardly look like corpses. The woman could easily be sleeping, but she doesn’t stir when Shamura noisily pulls open one of the drawers. 

These two didn’t have much. There are some handmade kitten-sized clothes, a working dress or two, some knitting needles and a half-finished scarf. In the way of food, they only have hard tack biscuits. One of them has fresh gnaw marks, made by sharp little teeth. 

Behind them, Kallamar shrieks in horror: “Shamura!” 

When they turn around, there’s a pair of crimson red eyes glaring at them. The kitten is awake, still cradled in his dead mother’s arms. He lets out a weak hiss.

“It’s undead! Kill it, kill it!” Kallamar runs and hides behind Shamura, almost knocking over the wardrobe in the process. Shamura instinctively pulls him behind them, shielding him with their arms. The kitten just watches, angry at their presence but too weak to do anything about it. His mother doesn’t move, her cold arms draped limply over him. 

“He’s not undead,” Shamura says. “He’s alive.”

Somehow. The pestilence unleashed on this village killed everyone. Everyone but him. Shamura doesn’t know if that’s supremely lucky or unlucky. 

The kitten hisses again, his voice hoarse and strained, “Get out. Get out of our house.” 

Does he not realize his mother is gone? Does he not know his village is now an open air tomb? Shamura approaches the bed slowly and kneels in front of him. 

He withdraws, hissing and spitting, jolting his mother’s corpse as he does. “Get out!” 

“Your mother’s gone,” they say. “You’re the last one left in your village.” 

“She’s sleeping!” the kitten insists, though the tears gathering in his eyes tell them he already knows. Perhaps he was just waiting to waste away. After all, a child alone in these lands stands no chance of survival. He would be on someone’s altar within the week. Black cats are especially popular with certain gods— and Baast’s enemies have been empowered by the village’s demise. They’ll want to celebrate. 

“You’re in danger if you stay here,” Shamura says. “Come with us. We can keep you safe.” 

Skeptical crimson eyes dart between Shamura and Kallamar, still cowering in the corner. He says flatly, “I doubt it.” 

They almost laugh, though nothing about the situation is funny. It’s another mouth to feed, another little brother to protect. But they can’t leave him here to rot with the rest of this village. “This was a divine plague. A god did this. Their followers will arrive to make sure everyone is dead. You don’t want to be here when that happens. We’ll take you someplace else, far from here. I promise.” 

The little kitten turns to look at his mother, brow furrowing as more tears gather in his eyes. “Mata said she was just going to sleep. She promised.”

“She didn’t have any choice,” Shamura says. “Death is inevitable; we rarely get to choose when it claims us. She held on as long as she could.” They dare to reach out and set a hand on his shoulder. It’s slick with sweat, though he isn’t warm to the touch. His fever must have broken recently. “Please, come with us. I don’t want to leave you here.” 

The kitten looks to his mother, as though she might suddenly wake and begin to argue with this stranger. After a heartbeat passes, he nuzzles his face into her neck, tears flowing down his cheeks. He lingers for a moment, claws digging into the linen of her sleeping gown as though he’s considering never letting go. Instead, he slips out of her arms. They fall limp against the sheets, heavy and lifeless as logs. The kitten’s ears flatten against his head. He stares at her for another long moment, then slides off the straw mattress. 

His legs almost buckle when his paws hit the dirt floor, but Shamura catches his arm and steadies him. He’s alive, but the sickness has left him weak. The kitten leans against them briefly to stabilize himself. Thin bones wrapped in dull black fur press against their side. Even before the sickness came, they struggled. He pushes off of Shamura, using them for momentum. He eyes their full travel bags with suspicion. “You’ve been looting.” 

“They don’t need it anymore,” Shamura says. “We do.”

“How old are you?” Now that he’s up and considering the situation, he seems more skeptical than angry. That’s progress, perhaps. “Where did you come from? Why do you want to help me?” 

“I’m Shamura. I’m fourteen. I came from Silk Cradle,” Shamura says. “Kallamar is from Anchordeep. Neither of us have families, so we take care of each other. What’s your name?” 

The kitten looks them up and down as he considers their answers. After a moment of contemplation, he volunteers his own name: “Narinder. I’ve seen nine winters.” 

“Kallamar is eleven,” Shamura says. “He’s not much older than you.” 

Narinder’s gaze shifts to Kallamar. He’s stopped cowering, at least, now reassured the kitten is not an undead thrall or rotting zombie. He inches closer, uncertain but curious about this potential new addition to their family. Narinder hisses when Kallamar finally steps near, then smirks when he visibly startles.

“Shamura!” Kallamar complains. 

“That usually doesn’t work on people,” Narinder says, sounding pleased. The small smirk slides from his face when he once again glances towards his mother. “…I’ll go with you. For now.” He hesitates, then stumbles to the wardrobe. 

Kallamar moves out of his way like he’s a charging bear rather than a malnourished kitten. Narinder opens the drawers and swaps his sleeping gown for traveling clothes. Every movement is slow, as though he’s fighting fatigue. They won’t be able to get far from the village in this condition, but at least he’ll be among the living. 

Once he’s dressed, Narinder goes over to the hearth. There’s firewood still there. He stoops and grabs a large piece, then wraps it in a discarded rag. Shamura watches him, tilting their head. “Are you making a torch?”

Narinder glances at them, still so full of suspicion. “Yes.” 

They want to ask why, but they have a feeling that won’t win them any favors with Narinder. Instead they go digging through their bag until they locate one of their more valuable finds from the village: a bottle half full of lamp oil. They hold it up, and Narinder steps closer. He offers the rag-wrapped tip to them, face solemn. It is getting dark; perhaps Narinder is just thinking ahead. 

They produce a fire starter — piece of iron and a piece of flint — and strike them together until a spark jumps onto the oil-soaked cloth. It goes up in a greedy blaze, beginning to consume the cheap fabric almost instantaneously. Narinder exits the hut, so they follow after. Kallamar is close behind, trying to keep Shamura in between him and the torch. 

Narinder stops in front of the doorway and looks back at his home. It isn’t much. Just a square wooden hut with a thatched roof. He considers it for a few moments, perhaps realizing this would be the last time he ever sees it. Shamura wonders if he’s weathered all nine of those winters within those four walls.

The small cat lifts the torch with grave resolve and holds it to the thatched roof of his own home. Flames lick the corners and catch the wood. Kallamar gasps behind them and draws back. “He’s crazy!” 

“Hush,” Shamura says. They press him backward, away from the fire. Heat and squid don’t mix. Their eyes widen as they watch burning amber tendrils snake across the roof. What is he doing? 

Narinder turns and begins to walk toward the edge of the village. As he goes, he uses the torch to light thatched roofs, the bodies wrapped in their linen, hay bales, anything that will burn. Shamura hurries Kallamar through, trying and failing to quiet his growing panic. Narinder stops at the edge of town while Shamura ushers Kallamar further away, into the tree line. The blaze spreads quickly, the wooden and thatch buildings igniting with the fury of a hundred bonfires. 

The air grows thick with black smoke, accompanied by the sour scent of burning flesh and fur. Narinder stands at the village boundary, silhouetted by the red glow, the half-burned torch still in his hand. 

“What is he doing?” Kallamar is crying again.

“I think,” Shamura murmurs, “he’s saying goodbye.” 

Narinder tosses the torch away, sending it further into the burning village. He stands there, transfixed, even as Shamura walks beside him. There are tears flowing freely down his cheeks, but his face is eerily calm. He says, “Why didn’t I die?” 

“I don’t know,” Shamura says. It is odd, but not impossible. “Even the worst plagues always leave some survivors. No one knows why. Some people are able to withstand it.”

The heat from the village is getting to be uncomfortable, even from a distance. They gently take Narinder’s hand. Claws try to dig into their exoskeleton, but only just barely find purchase. He doesn’t look at them. His eyes remain fixed on his village, ears flat against his head, the growing blaze reflected in his tear-filled eyes. “Where are you going to take me?” 

“I don’t know,” Shamura admits. They can’t attempt this kind of blunt honesty with Kallamar. But maybe Narinder needs to hear the truth. “I’m making it up as I go, trying to keep us fed and clothed and off some god’s altar. But I’ve kept us safe so far. I can show you how to fight and hunt and forage. I’ll protect you. I promise.” 

The boy who burned down his village finally meets their eyes. He pantomimes an X over his heart and gives them a measuring look. “Cross your heart?” 

Shamura copies the motion. “Cross my heart.” 

His other hand tightens around theirs. The claws ease away. Narinder allows them to gently lead him further from the village. Halfway down the path, Kallamar joins them, anxiously wringing his tentacles as he emerges from the trees. He eyes Narinder fearfully, tears still gathered in the corners of his round black eyes. “Why did you do that?!”

Narinder once again looks back at the burning buildings. A roof collapses in on itself, sending up a tower of sparks. “Bodies make people sick if they’re left to rot. And I couldn’t bury them all.” He adds softly, “They deserved to be.”

Shamura squeezes his hand. It feels so small, so thin. Delicate as a bird’s wing, but with claws. “You did what you could for them.” 

The kitten considers that, then nods. “Let’s go.” 

They walk further into the forest. Ash begins to fall like snow. 

*

Narinder does not want to fall asleep. 

The spider, Shamura, makes him a bed of blankets out of the ones they took from the village. They insist he burrow inside of it and stay warm, so that’s what he does. Shamura is clearly the one in charge; the squid flinches every time Narinder looks at him. They tuck Kallamar into his bedroll and quietly reassure him: “You’ll get to know him, he needs our help, it’ll be alright.” 

He curls into himself beneath the quilts. The shivering has started again, though he doesn’t feel chilled and achy like before. Narinder just can’t get comfortable, can’t bring himself to close his eyes. All he can think about is Mata. The way she held him, both their bodies burning with fever. 

“Go to sleep,” she whispered. She tried to purr, a weak and rattling noise that unnerved him more than any cough or fever. “You’ll feel so much better when you wake.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he pleaded. Narinder wasn’t stupid; he’d watched their neighbors fall over the past week, saw the bodies swathed in linen and knew what it meant. 

“I won’t, little one. I’m just going to rest, I promise,” Mata said. The thin arms wrapped around him offered a weak, reassuring squeeze. She kissed the backs of his ears, light and gentle as the brush of a butterfly wing. “Sleep, Narinder. You’ll be well when you wake.”

When he woke, he did feel better. But Mata’s arms were turning cold. The warmth in her died like a fire with nothing left to burn. There were no voices outside, no more neighbors going door to door to see who was sick, who was dead, who was well. Narinder resolved to lay there until he slipped away too. Until Shamura and Kallamar arrived. 

Now he’s in their tent, shivering beneath blankets that belonged to his dead neighbors. The smell of ash clings to his clothes and his fur. The cloying rotten scent has faded, but it sticks in his mind like a burr. Everything about it does. 

Why did Mata go cold when she died? Why did everyone else die, but not him? Why did it happen at all? Because the grown-ups worshiped Baast instead of some other god?

“You should try to sleep,” Shamura says. They sit on their bedroll, strategically positioned between Narinder and Kallamar. “You still need plenty of rest if you want to get better.” 

If I get better, Narinder thinks. What if the plague isn’t done with him? What if it comes back while he’s sleeping to steal his breath and fire? “I don’t want to sleep.” 

Shamura’s black eyes blink at him. They have four of them, large and dark with only the barest hint of a pupil. They reach into one of their bags and produce something he’s never seen before. Narinder uncurls slightly, wary and intrigued all at once. It looks like a box, but it unfolds into thin strips. 

“…what’s that?” he asks. 

“It’s a storybook,” Shamura says. 

Narinder stares at them blankly. 

“Did your mother ever tell you stories?” Shamura asks. 

He nods slowly. 

“This is a collection of stories,” Shamura says. They turn the storybook towards him. There is a picture of a tabby cat with a quiver and hunting bow slung over his shoulder. He stretches a hand up to a rabbit on a tower balcony, dressed in pretty fabrics and jewelry. Beside it are a bunch of strange symbols. Magic? “I read them to Kallamar when he can’t sleep, sometimes.” 

Curiosity wins out over fatigue and sorrow. Narinder has never seen magic before. He wiggles out of his blanket mound to crawl over and look at it. It doesn’t look magical. But what else could those strange symbols be? He hesitantly reaches over and touches it. Narinder flips from one sheet to another, revealing even more strange symbols. “How do the stories get in there? Magic?” 

Shamura smiles. “I guess in a way it is. But it’s just regular writing. Each of these symbols is a letter. Put them together and it forms a word. All the words together tell a story, the way you would if you were telling it aloud. Do you want me to read one?” 

He hesitates, then nods.

“You have to lay down,” Shamura says, gesturing to the blanket pile. 

Narinder huffs, but does as he’s told. When he’s once again half buried in the blanket mound, he gives Shamura a pointed look. They scoot closer and turn the storybook to a new illustration. This one shows a young fawn in a brilliant red cloak walking down a wooded path. In between the pillars of trees, a black wolf leers. 

“This story is called Little Red Riding Hood,” Shamura says. They clear their throat and start to read, running their fingers beneath each of the words as they do: “Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little fawn, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more…” 

They read him several stories. Most of them involve children in peril. They’re faced with hungry lying wolves, greedy dragons, or gods demanding tribute and sacrifice. But no matter how small or weak the child, quick thinking and clever planning wins out over sheer power. They’re nice stories, even if real life is the opposite. Narinder didn’t survive the plague because he was smart or special. Just lucky. 

Exhaustion creeps in, settling over his shoulders like a heavy fur shawl. His eyes keep trying to drift closed, lulled by the sound of Shamura’s voice and the turning pages. But each time sleep tries to sink its claws into him he remembers the coolness of Mata’s fur, the slackness of her arms. As though someone snuck in and replaced his mother with a cold, empty doll.

He does not want to be cold and empty. 

“Narinder,” Shamura says.

He starts again, tired eyes blinking up at the spider. They smile reassuringly. It looks a bit funny with their large fangs, but the intent is there. “I can tell you’re worn out. Go to sleep.”

“Will I wake up?” he asks. 

“Yes, of course you will,” Shamura assures him. “You’re past the worst of it now. But you need to rest if you’re going to get any better. I promise you’ll wake up in the morning and I’ll be here when you do.” 

“Cross your heart?” Narinder is too tired to make the sign over his heart. 

Shamura does the motion anyway. “Cross my heart. Now get some sleep.”

*

The next morning, Narinder wakes up. He is not cold and lifeless— though he is quite hungry. Shamura is also awake, sitting cross-legged on their bedroll and talking to Kallamar. 

“…he scares me,” Kallamar says. “What if he gets us sick? What if he bites me? He burned his village down!”

“He didn’t want his neighbors and friends to rot in the open air,” Shamura says, their voice clipped and irritated. “Be nice, Marmar. He’s been through a lot. You should be able to sympathize with that.”

“I’m awake,” Narinder announces. They both look towards him, startled. His eyes fix on Shamura. “And you’re still here.”

They smile. “Of course I am. I always keep my promises.” 

“…you meant what you said?” Narinder asks. His tail betrays his trepidation, swishing back and forth anxiously. He’ll need someone to teach him how to survive; there’s no getting around that. “You’ll protect me? And teach me how to fight and hunt and stuff?” 

Shamura nods. “I meant it. I call Kallamar my little brother; you could be our brother, too.” 

Lots of kittens in the village had siblings, but never Narinder. It has always been him and Mata, just the two of them scraping by. He supposes that’s what Shamura and Kallamar do, too. Maybe it won’t be so different. 

Narinder smiles at the idea of having big siblings. “…will you teach me how to make the stories come out of the book?”

Shamura returns his smile with one of their own. “Absolutely.” 

“Then I guess I could stay for a while,” he relents. 

And with that decided, Shamura lays out breakfast for all of them. Narinder eats and curls back up beneath the blankets. They leave Kallamar to watch him while they go to scout the nearby area, though Narinder doesn’t have the energy to mess with the squid again. He sinks back into the blankets and closes his eyes. 

Shamura will be back when he wakes up.