#Bronze Bell Route

[millicent-dagworth]

Bronze Bell Time Line

Here is the time line for the Bronze Bell swap Au! This will be a bit longer as this will delve into many pregame events.

TW: Suicide mentioned!!

Pre-game

1170: Claude is abducted, attacks from Almyra stop and they agree to a cease-fire treaty. Cyril’s parents aren’t killed.

The insurrection of the Seven (1171):  Happens as usual, but while escaping Edelgard’s mother dies and Volkhard is injured protecting Edelgard. They escape and head to the Kingdom. Once close to the capital, however, Volkard succumbs to his wounds. Left alone, Edelgard wanders until she is found by Dimitri and his father, who take her in. Caspar’s brother also dies during the insurrection during the ensuing chaos when the church steps in to quell the rebellion. Elsewhere in the Alliance, a village is attacked and TWSITD captures Cynthia and her brother.

Dagda-Brigid War (1172): Working with the Seven, TWSITD places the blame of the royal family on Brigid. They launch an attack on Brigid, who enlists the help of Dagda to defend themselves. However, the war still ends the same as in cannon and Shamir’s partner/group is still killed.

1173: Out of grief over all the death he has caused, including his wife and daughter, Edelgard’s father kills himself. After this, Ferdinand’s father takes control of the Empire.

1174: Edelgard returns to the Empire after hearing about her father’s death. Ferdinand’s father still remains in charge until she is ready to take the throne. Thales’ experiments prove to be a success and both Claude and Cynthia gain extra crests while having a reduced effect on their lifespan.

1176: Catherine runs away to join the Knights of Seiros, Christophe comes with her with approval from Lonato.

1177: Raphael’s parents are killed during a monster attack. During the same attack, Claude’s uncle (Godfrey), is also killed but Thales takes his place.

1178: Cyril comes to Garreg Mach under the guise of an orphan, secretly looking for the lost Almyra prince.

1179: Claude is announced as the legitimate heir to House Riegan. Cynthia is also announced as the legitimate heir to House Sims and their engagement is set in place. 

Academy phase (1180)

Great Tree and Harpstring Moon

Stay as is in canon. Randomizer for who wins the match

Garland Moon

Caspar’s father takes place of Lonato, who wants revenge for the church after what happened to his eldest son and his home.

Blue Sea Moon

The holy tomb is still invaded and driven back after the twins gain the Sword of the Creator. The ones behind it are an unnamed Cult that was revealed to have been pulling the strings behind Caspar's father's rebellion.

Verdant Rain Moon

Happens as usual because Miklan is still a POS that deserves to get killed.

Horsebow Moon

While Flayn is still kidnapped by Death Knight and rescued, other student rescued is [Kronya] a previous Golden Deer Student who went missing the previous year. Flayn joins Beles’s class.

Wyvern, Red Wolf, Ethereal, and Guardian Moons

Happens as per usual (unfortunately)

Pegasus Moon

Claude is outed as Gilded Emperor and escapes the Holy Tomb with Byleth. Edelgard snaps due to rage and his betrayal. While Cynthia is not initially outed as a conspirator, she sneaks out of the monastery that night with Pine and Chestnut. 

Note: For the Herron cup, Cressida, Cynthia, and Dusan are selected. Cressida wins.

Lone Moon

The Alliance declares war on the Church and attacks the Monastery. During the fight, Rhea (now a dragon) tries to attack Byleth. Beles tries to defend her brother but the two both end up falling into the canyon.

Dusan helps in the effort to evacuate the church and is mortally wounded in the process. Unaware of the fact that he was injured, the others flee the church, hoping he would follow soon after, but he doesn’t. When he doesn’t return to Duscur, their leader is forced to add him to the list of casualties as “assumed dead”. What the others don’t know is that he was found in the wreckage of the church by TWSITD and kidnapped.

Between Time skip

At some point, an assassin is sent after Dimitri by TWSITD and in the ensuing struggle, he loses his left eye.

Edelgard is framed for the murder of Ferdinand's father and is sentenced to execution. Before her sentence can be carried out, Hubert and Ferdinand work together to help her escape. In the process, Ferdinand is gravely injured and forces the other two to leave him behind. Over the next five years, Edelgard starts to forget about her friends (other than Hubert) amidst all the fighting and the two end up at the Monastery. Cornelia also takes over as ruler of the Empire.

Ferdinand is initially saved by Flayn but is still gravely injured. To save his life, Flayn begs Seteth to give him some of his blood. Seteth caves and Ferdinand is saved. After this, he goes with Flayn the church to search for Rhea. After taking a hit for Flayn, the two start dating and the incident leaves a scar across his jaw.

Dusan is tortured by TWSITD for info, but won’t give anything up. Instead of getting disposed of, he’s turned into one of their test subjects. The bonding process nearly kills him, but he still ends up with an unstable version of the Crest of Ernest. TWSITD nearly disposes of him for being a failure, but Claude spares him and later helps him escape. He goes undercover as he makes his way back through Faerghus and into Duscur, where he reunites with his siblings and is reinstated as Captain of the Guard. 

War Phase

Ethereal Moon (Reunion at dawn)

Edelgard and Hubert end up in the Monastery due to following Alliance soldiers there.

Dimitri, hoping to find Cynthia at the Monastery, ends up finding Beles and the two go to the monastery together.

While out on a ride, Pine finds Byleth (unconscious) and brings him over to Claude. 

Guardian Moon (2nd attack on the Monastery)

The Alliance tries to take the Monastery but is stopped by the combined efforts of the Kingdom, Empire, and Church.

Pegasus Moon (Valley of Torment)

While getting reinforcements sent by Caspar and Linhardt’s dad, they’re ambushed by the Alliance. But some Kingdom soldiers led by Glenn help drive them off. Dusan and some of his best soldiers arrive alongside Glenn, having been able to meet up on their march through Faerghus. Having been unaware that Dusan was even alive, his arrival is a big shock to the others.

Lone Moon (Battle of Eagle and Lion)

Kind of the same thing that happens in canon, but Edelgard chases Claude. To get away from her, Claude fires an arrow laced with poison at her. However, Beles takes the hit for her. 

While they are lucky to have the cure for it, the event leaves her in a fragile state for a couple weeks. During this, Edelgard refuses to be away from her side and comes back to her senses due to realizing she was becoming no better than them.

Great Tree Moon (Reclaiming the Empire)

With Edelgard at the helm, the army works to reclaim the Empire from Cornelia.

Harpstring Moon (Attack on Fhirdiad)

Edelgard and them help drive back the Alliance. During the chaos left, they find Eric- Cynthia’s younger brother. Though they initially want to take him prisoner, Dimitri convinces the others that he won’t harm them. Eric admits everything he knows about Thales and Claude. From this information, they’re able to conclude the quickest way to end the war is to take out Thales.

Garland Moon (Bridge of Myrddin)

They begin their assault on the Alliance. Cynthia is stationed at the bridge to try to protect it but is ultimately driven back.

Blue Sea Moon (Fodlan’s Throat invade)

They decide to take Fodlan’s Throat in order to get poison from Almyra which is said to make it seem like someone is dead. Hilda’s brother is there but they are just driven off. 

Verdant Rain Moon (Derdriu invade)

During the final battle, Cynthia and Claude are slipped the pills. Thales, enraged that all his work was for nothing, comes out and attacks. Through the combined efforts of the Kingdom, Empire, and Alliance, Thales is killed.

However, after being given the antidote, Rhea tries to kill Byleth. Once again through the combined efforts of the kingdoms, Rhea is subdued and taken into custody.

Post Cannon

Claude returns to Almyra and becomes King, eventually marrying Byleth.

Edelgard works on rebuilding Brigid with Petra (and Dorthea). Eventually marries Beles.

Dimitri and Cynthia marry pretty quickly after the war, with some backlash though that is quickly settled.

Masterpost | Character Bio's | Time Line | Misc

[dujour13]

A little romance to kick off February ❤️

(instead of not-a-date it’s wait-is-this-a-date)

---

“May I take your cloak, sir?”

Woljif dodged the man reaching for his shoulders until he noticed from the corner of his eye that Siavash didn’t seem bothered.

“It’s new, don’t mess it up.” Following the chief’s lead he allowed himself to be decloaked, clamping his arms protectively over his pockets while the waiter whisked off his cloak and hung it to steam dry next to Siavash’s by the fireplace.

Nervously Woljif took in the room, his instinct taking mental note of valuables and escape routes: wood-paneled walls, blazing hearth, the kind of fancy paintings that only looked like something if you squinted, a dozen candlelit tables in crisp white linen, gleaming crystal wineglasses and silverware he reckoned he could easily get seven and a half per set for. Beyond the kitchen, the back doors were flung wide to let out fragrant steam, and a whole contingent of cooks and wait staff stood there smiling like rubes and bobbing their heads to the Knight-Commander.

As they were escorted to a table in the front nook, he caught Siavash’s flushed, bright-eyed gaze and began to feel something was expected of him.

“Swanky place, chief. I thought we were headed to the Half Measure.” He yanked his chair out of the waiter’s hands and scooted it in himself.

“This place just opened. They have Andoren specialties.”

Seemed harmless enough, but Siavash still looked like he was waiting for something.

“Uh. Andoren, huh? Like what?”

As Siavash explained, using a lot of words like “braised” and “flambé,” Woljif fidgeted. All this talk was making him hungrier.

“Woljif, you’ll be needing that dessert spoon.”

He took it out of his pocket and put it back on the table.

Through the windows angled around their table, they could see figures hurrying past on the darkened street, cloaks pulled tight against slanting wind and rain. Within, candles shed a cheerful pool of bronze light that glinted from polished dinnerware. It didn’t fail to cross Woljif’s mind that he had always been on the other side of that glass, dreaming of what it would be like to be sitting here. His stomach responded audibly to the memory.

“I guess you’re hungry.”

“We missed the mess bell by an hour, chief. I’m ready to eat my boots. Flambé.”

For some reason Siavash seemed to find this really funny. At last he brushed a tear from the corner of his eye and leaned back comfortably in his chair, which brought his legs forward so that one ankle rested against Woljif’s, and gave him that expectant look again.

Woljif glanced about, searching for clues. The waiter served Siavash wine and Woljif a glass of flavored water with a slice of some kind of fruit wedged on the lip. Other patrons seemed to be avoiding looking their way too often, respectful of the Knight-Commander’s privacy. A halfling couple at a low table across from them were engrossed in conversation and he watched as one of them took the other’s hand across the table, their fingers twining together.

Oh.

“So um. What’s the occasion?” Woljif asked as lightly as he could with volcanic heat surging to his face.

Siavash beamed. “No occasion. I just thought I’d take you out.”

“Like on a—on a date?”

In response Siavash reached across the table with his palm open, and when Woljif placed his nervous and slightly chilly hand in his, grasped it gently. “Yeah. A date. You all right?”

Only then did Woljif become aware that the whooshing sounds behind him were not the wind or someone sweeping, but his own tail stripping the restaurant’s decorative fern of its leaves. He wound it around his chair.

“Sure. I just didn’t expect…”

“I should have warned you. I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“It is!” Woljif almost shouted. “I mean, yeah. Just not used to bein’ what’s it called.”

“Courted.”

“Right. That’s not to say I never had a date before. I’ve had a few, you know. Pretty busy guy, not much time for that stuff.”

“Thanks for taking the time for me,” said Siavash in a low voice, and Woljif felt suddenly like he’d evaporated, like his body had no mass and he might float to the ceiling. Under the table he felt their ankles slide together and had the urge to grip his chair with his free hand to stay grounded.

This was what the Count meant and what those novels were on about, but it turned out the reality was so much nicer. All the times he’d pressed his nose to the windowpane and gazed longingly at the warmth and food beyond his reach he’d never imagined himself having them in such good company.

“I guess I can spare an hour or two for the Knight-Commander,” he joked, his voice a little thick.

The candlelight made Siavash even more handsome, glowing in his burnished gold hair and dancing in his laughing hazel eyes. Slightly dizzy, Woljif sniffed his drink suspiciously.

“It’s not alcoholic,” Siavash reassured him.

When the amuse-bouche arrived, a tiny bowl of fish soup hardly bigger than a walnut complete with tiny croutons and a doll-sized spoon, Woljif again had to take a cue from Siavash not to call the waiter back and give her a piece of his mind. It turned out pretty good, and there was a lot more on the way: sautéed mushrooms in little copper pots, beef simmered slowly in red wine until it melted in your mouth, roasted potatoes in rosemary and sea salt, vegetables with fancy names glazed with butter and honey, fresh flaky bread still warm from the oven.

Woljif had always reckoned that food was food. He had his favorites like cherry rolls and spicy pastries, but when the Count got to waxing poetic about fine cuisine he was skeptical.

This though—

“Aright, I gotta give it to ‘em,” he said through a mouthful, hunched over his plate with both elbows on the table, mopping up wine sauce with a crust of bread, “this ain’t half bad.”

Siavash seemed to be enjoying every bite Woljif took just as much as he did. He paused in his story just to grin.

Woljif ordered more bread by waving the basket at the waiter. “Wait, so you took a Korvosan Arbiter to a brothel?”

“No, not really,” Siavash laughed. “I just knew the suggestion would get him out of there. One more word and he was going to start a war. Fortunately he was too drunk to walk down to the port so we steered him to his chambers instead and left him with his head in a bucket.”

“He’s lucky he didn’t wake up naked in a ditch in Nidal.”

“Oh, I think the Duchess had much worse than that planned for him by the time we got him out of the banquet. Imagine being devoured slowly by a teacup dinosaur.”

When at last the bill came Woljif had completely forgotten about his nerves and was leaning back complacently in his chair with both hands folded over his replete stomach. The warmth where his shin rested against Siavash’s seemed to have radiated to the rest of his body.

“This was nice, chief. Thanks.”

“It was. I hope it compares well with all those other dates you’ve been on.”

Woljif made a face. “Sure does.”

“So what would be your dream date? For future reference.”

“This but not in the fucking Worldwound.”

They had another good laugh but one look at the bill had Woljif back on his guard in an instant. He glanced meaningfully towards the door.

“Something tells me we wouldn’t get away with it. You’re almost as famous as I am around here these days.”

“Yeah, has its disadvantages,” Woljif sighed. With tremendous reluctance he fished in his pocket but Siavash insisted on taking care of it and couldn’t even be talked into writing it off as a Crusade expense.

Back out on the street they walked close to keep out the chill. As soon as they rounded a bend into an unlit street Woljif seized Siavash’s hand, a little roughly as if swiping something from a store shelf, but with sincerity.

“What about your dream date, chief?”

“This was it,” smiled Siavash, breathing in the night air. “Danger on all sides, the bold heroes finding comfort in camaraderie and a rare moment of respite. Good food. And you.”

“Hells, you are such a sweet talker.”

[hellmouthheritage]

HELLMOUTH RPG est à la recherche du personnage légendaire de FAITH LEHANE.

Sunnydale 2023 :

La nuit du 2 octobre 2001, Faith était en prison lorsqu'elle a senti son corps commencer à geler. La tueuse a crié de toutes ses forces, mais ayant la réputation qu'elle avait à l'époque, aucun policier n'a voulu s'approcher de sa cellule et lui venir en aide. Lorsque l'équipe tactique du matin arriva devant une cellule remplie de cristaux de sang au sol, ils déclenchèrent l'état d'alerte. En analysant le sang qui était dans les morceaux de glace, le médecin légiste déclara que la fugitive avait belle et bien été tuée par un froid glacial qui avait gelé son corps en entier. Les policiers de Los Angeles ont voulu étouffer l'affaire et n'ont rien déclaré aux médias au sujet de sa mort.

Le 1 juin 2023, le corps de Faith se reconstitua dans la cellule là où elle était morte il y a 22 années. La tueuse regarda autour d'elle complètement désemparée et traumatisée. Elle grelottait et n'avait pas encore conscience de ce qu'il lui arrivait. Elle frappa de toutes ses forces la prisonnière qui résidait maintenant dans son ancienne cage. La tueuse prit possession des vêtements de la femme qu'elle venait d'assommer sans aucune pitié, avec rage. Faith posa ses deux mains sur les barreaux et les écarta avec facilité comme si ce n'était que des cures-dents. Dans le couloir, son regard croisa celui d'un policier qu'elle avait connu autrefois. Le jeune homme commençait sa carrière à l'époque, l'officier ouvrit grand les yeux et reconnu la fugitive qui avait été tué il y a 22 années. Il fonça sur elle, mais malheureusement la tueuse avait toujours ses réflexes de tigresse. La brune haussa le bras dans les airs et fonça sur lui le faisant traverser une fenêtre pour entendre son corps tomber du troisième étage de l'établissement.

Faith en profita pour sauter par la fenêtre et courir rapidement pour escalader le grillage de la prison. Le bruit des voitures de police criait dans tous les sens, mais elle croyait fortement qu'elle allait réussir. La tueuse passa par dessus la grille et sauta dans une voiture en agressant le conducteur, le jetant dehors de son véhicule en pleine conduite. Elle savait très bien quelle direction prendre. La route vers Sunnydale était la seule destination envisageable. Elle regarda rapidement son reflet dans le rétroviseur et elle remarqua qu'elle avait une vingtaine d'années en plus. Elle n'en croyait pas ses yeux, elle continua de se regarder quelques secondes sans remarquer que son véhicule était entrain de dévié de la route. Elle donna un coup de volant pour ramener sa voiture sur la bonne voie juste à temps pour ne pas heurter un autre véhicule qui venait de la klaxonner.

Quelques heures plus tard, elle débarqua à Sunnydale. Une ville hantée par les monstres et par les erreurs de son passé. Elle ressentait la présence de Buffy, mais aussi d'une nouvelle élue. Après 22 années passées dans la noirceur de la mort, elle savait très bien qu'il allait falloir qu'elle se trouve un refuge où habiter sans avoir à payer trop cher, mais la tueuse avait toujours su se débrouiller seule. Faith décida de se rendre dans un lieu qu'elle connaissait bien, elle y avait passé son adolescence. Le Bronze. N'ayant pas reprise complètement ses esprits, la brune défonça d'un coup pied la porte du propriétaire et le poignarda dans le ventre sans pitié utilisant le couteau ensuite pour ouvrir la serrure du coffre-fort de l'établissement où elle trouva quelques milliers de dollars en liquide. La tueuse décida de se débarrasser du corps et de prendre en charge la grande responsabilité de propriétaire du Bronze sachant qu'elle retrouverait rapidement ses anciennes connaissances.

Faith Lehane découvrira qu'à sa mort en 2001, elle était enceinte. Son fils créé par la magie des puissances supérieures Lukas Lehane. Apprenant que la tueuse est en route vers Sunnydale, il essaiera de la retrouver pour se présenter à elle et en connaitre un peu plus sur la véritable nature de sa mère.

[modernistdelights]

A Leeds University Public Art trail Mooch [10/08/24]

In order:

Roger Stevens Building

Perhaps my new favourite university building, sorry to the Renold Building x

Barbara Hepworth - Dual Form

I believe there's also a Barbara Hepworth sculpture in one of the courts at Lancaster University, which I didn't find out about until last year, due to my minimal attendance on campus while I was a student 🥴

Mitzi Cunliffe - Man-Made Fibres

A gorgeous stone carving, commissioned as part of the Clothworkers Building South to reflect the progress in the field of synthetic fibres.

Juanjo Novella - Curtain

Detail shot.

Staircase at the Henry Price Building

An unnecessarily extra, geometrically askew staircase, especially delightful coming west from St George's Field.

School of Chemical and Process Engineering building

Staircase detail shot.

School of Healthcare

Staircase detail shot at the rear of the building.

Quentin Bell - The Dreamer

Inspired by a magician's trick that Bell saw as a child. There's something melancholy about the sculpture at situated in a quiet courtyard, surrounded by leafy vegetatation. It's been moved several times but this feels like the right place for it.

P H Y S I C S

At the rear of the Physics Research Deck.

Bank House

And finally, away from the campus, en-route to the train station, the striking former regional headquarters of the Bank of England. Via British Listed Buildings:

Inverted ziggurat of in-situ reinforced-concrete construction with grey Cornish granite and bronze cladding. 5-storeys plus basement

—

The Public Art Trail at the University of Leeds is inexplicably only available to download as a PDF, but is well worth it. I far prefer architecture to sculpture, but luckily this has both, and anything which gets me on a guided walk is a win in my book.

[oh-sturg]

Okay but I gotta put this in text because it’ll be too long for my normal tags bullshit

Every time. Every fucking time. This happens in 80% of my dreams and it’s just. HOUGE and I’m so happy it does

In my dream, it’s a place called Duluth. Now I’ve been to actual Duluth. This is not actually Duluth

Dream Duluth has a giant bridge that’s so big that it scares me to drive across. The bridge is so big and the route right into the city has a little section where people will check your passport or vehicle or IDs or something? I’m not sure why. The bridge gives me so much anxiety, and there’s another highway around one of the skyscrapers in that city that also gives me anxiety. For some reason, I think I work in that building. There’s even a dream inside

The city itself is beautiful. Sunny. There’s a big statue by the lake it’s built on, just like the real Duluth. There’s monuments that look like mirrors, even one that looks like the WWII monument in Washington DC. Or is it a Vietnam or Korea monument? Idk. There are hills in the city. It’s not too warm. Much like the real Duluth as well, there’s a restaurant along one of the boardwalks and piers. Unlike it, though, it’s built out onto the water. You can look into the lake from the restaurant and see the guitarfish and sawfish in the water

The beaches are something I always think about. One beach is covered in dark sand. Shark teeth always wash up there. Shark teeth and fish bones. Sometimes it’s small, nestled between that restaurant and a boardwalk. Other times, the beach is longer and pale. Sand tiger sharks and white sturgeon wash up on the shore. There are shovelnose sturgeon in the water. I try and save whatever I can, but sometimes they’re too big for me to carry on my own. Sometimes, when I wade into the water, I get close enough to touch them, but I always stop myself because I’m afraid I’ll bother the animals

There’s another beach as well, one where people always go. Umbrellas and kids and chairs. In the tideline, you can find trinkets and toys that were left a long time ago. They’re not new, rather old and rusted, but sometimes I find interesting keys and metal baubles and gemstones in the sand. I keep them for myself

There’s a white building with a blue haze inside. I don’t know why. It’s homely, but I don’t want to go inside. There was a bloody handprint on the doorframe once. I don’t know why. I think I relaxed after that

There’s a city skyscraper made completely out of glass on the outside. The ground around the statue is made of concrete. I don’t know who that statue is of, but it’s someone important. The statue is bronze

There’s a red brick church in the city. It’s old, and there’s a mosaic courtyard. In the courtyard, there’s a gazebo made of brick. Inside that gazebo is a bell, and the ceiling is made of mosaic tiles that look like an ornate sky. Inside the church there are suits of armour, and the cathedral is impossibly large compared to the outside. The windows are tall, and the light that flits in is always white

I like when my dreams reuse locations from past dreams. like oh cool we doin a bottle episode

[exploravietnam63]

Exploring unique traditional craft villages by a travel to Hoi An

Hoi An is renowned for its poetic ancient town, stunning natural landscapes, and a collection of traditional craft villages that embody rich cultural heritage. When you choose to travel to Hoi An on your own, exploring these traditional craft villages will offer you deeper and more intriguing insights into the lives and people of this region. Let’s discover some unique craft villages that you shouldn't miss on your journey.

1. Thanh Ha pottery village – Preserving traditional pottery art

Located about 3 kilometers from Hoi An’s center, Thanh Ha is a must-visit destination when traveling to Hoi An independently. This village has been producing pottery for over 500 years and is famous for its exquisite craftsmanship, ranging from bowls and plates to teapots and ceramic figurines.

When visiting the village, you can participate in the pottery-making process, from molding the clay to firing the finished products. This experience allows you to gain a better understanding of the pottery craft and provides an opportunity to create unique souvenirs with your own hands.

Witness artisans meticulously crafting pottery products while you have the chance to travel to Hoi An.

2. Phuoc Kieu bronze casting Village – The Resonance of bronze craftsmanship

Located in Dien Ban District, Quang Nam, Phuoc Kieu boasts a long history in traditional craft villages. The bronze casting profession here is famous for its products like bells, drums, incense burners, and ethnic musical instruments such as gongs and cymbals. When you visit the village, you can admire talented artisans working diligently, casting and perfecting each intricate detail of their products. Some workshops even allow visitors to try their hand at bronze casting, creating unforgettable experiences.

Admire the intricately crafted bronze products.

3. Hoi An Silk Weaving Village – The elegance of traditional weaving

If you love textile products, Hoi An Silk Weaving Village is a captivating stop during your independent travel to Hoi An. Nestled in the heart of the ancient town, this village is known for its soft, durable silk products with intricate patterns. The silk weaving craft in Hoi An has been passed down through generations for hundreds of years, establishing a reputation that extends beyond Vietnam.

Visitors can tour the weaving workshops, watch artisans hand-weaving silk, and even have the chance to sew some simple items. Hoi An Silk Village is also an excellent place to shop for high-quality silk products, such as scarves, ao dai (traditional dress), and fashionable clothing.

Unforgettable experiences await at Hoi An silk weaving village.

4. Tips for your travel to Hoi An visiting traditional craft villages

When traveling independently to the craft villages around Hoi An, planning your transportation and exploration will help you save time and costs. The most popular modes of transport are bicycles or motorbikes, as the distances between the villages are not far, and the scenic routes are perfect for enjoying the beautiful landscape while traveling.

Additionally, consider choosing early morning or late afternoon to avoid the harsh sun and to observe artisans working in the best conditions. A suggested itinerary could start from Thanh Ha Pottery Village, then move to Phuoc Kieu Bronze Casting Village, and conclude at Hoi An Silk Weaving Village.

>> See more:Get a complete overview of costs when traveling independently to Hoi An 

Conclusion

Your journey to travel to Hoi An won't be complete if you miss the chance to explore these unique traditional craft villages. They not only preserve ancient cultural and historical values but also offer fascinating experiences that enrich your travel adventure. Take the time to visit these villages to fully appreciate the essence of each product and to learn more about the beauty of Hoi An's culture.

[blogdimanche]

Évangile de Jésus-Christ selon Saint Luc 24,35-48

 

En ce temps-là, les disciples qui rentraient d’Emmaüs racontaient aux onze Apôtres et à leurs compagnons

« 35 ce qui s’était passé sur la route, et comment le Seigneur s’était fait reconnaître par eux à la fraction du pain.

36 Comme ils en parlaient encore, lui-même fut présent au milieu d’eux, et leur dit : « La paix soit avec vous ! »

37 Saisis de frayeur et de crainte, ils croyaient voir un esprit.

38 Jésus leur dit : « Pourquoi êtes-vous bouleversés ? Et pourquoi ces pensées qui surgissent dans votre cœur ?

39 Voyez mes mains et mes pieds : c’est bien moi ! Touchez-moi, regardez : un esprit n’a pas de chair ni d’os comme vous constatez que j’en ai. »

40 Après cette parole, il leur montra ses mains et ses pieds.

41 Dans leur joie, ils n’osaient pas encore y croire, et restaient saisis d’étonnement. Jésus leur dit : « Avez-vous ici quelque chose à manger ? »

42 Ils lui présentèrent une part de poisson grillé

43 qu’il prit et mangea devant eux.

44 Puis il leur déclara : « Voici les paroles que je vous ai dites quand j’étais encore avec vous : Il faut que s’accomplisse tout ce qui a été écrit à mon sujet dans la loi de Moïse, les Prophètes et les Psaumes. »

45 Alors il ouvrit leur intelligence à la compréhension des Écritures.

46 Il leur dit : « Ainsi est-il écrit que le Christ souffrirait, qu’il ressusciterait d’entre les morts le troisième jour,

47 et que la conversion serait proclamée en son nom, pour le pardon des péchés, à toutes les nations, en commençant par Jérusalem.

48 À vous d’en être les témoins.

Texte biblique tiré de « La Bible — traduction officielle liturgique — AELF »)

(Illustration du site Apprenez-nous à prier)

Commentaire Lc 24,44

« Voici les paroles que je vous ai dites quand j’étais encore avec vous : Il faut que s’accomplisse tout ce qui a été écrit à mon sujet dans la loi de Moïse, les Prophètes et les Psaumes. » (Lc 24,44) Voilà la phrase de ce texte qui nous parle d’accomplissement. Ce thème de l’accomplissement court dans toute la Bible ; on pourrait comparer Dieu à un sculpteur qui a conçu un bronze avec des collaborateurs : l’œuvre, après bien des efforts, des fatigues, tous enfin, peuvent enfin dire « oui, il fallait » bien tout cela pour en arriver là ! Le dessein bienveillant de Dieu qui se réalise dès « avant la fondation du monde », comme dit Paul, est bien plus grandiose qu’une œuvre d’art, si belle soit-elle ! Et on peut lire tout au long de la Bible, l’histoire de ce projet en marche : la longue patience de Dieu à travers le temps, les étapes et les débuts de réalisation, les échecs et les recommencements, les collaborations. Dire que le dessein bienveillant de Dieu s’accomplit dans l’Histoire de l’humanité, c’est dire que notre histoire a un « SENS », c’est-à-dire à la fois une « signification » et une « direction ». Les croyants sont tournés vers l’avenir (l’à-venir) et non vers le passé ! Dans le Notre Père, ils disent : « Que ton règne vienne, que ta volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel », en d’autres termes, « que s’accomplisse ton projet ». Comme notre sculpteur, Dieu cherche des partenaires pour son projet : la Bible nous dit que, depuis toujours, Dieu propose à l’humanité de collaborer à son grand projet : il y a eu Adam, Noé, Abraham… et le choix du peuple d’Israël pour être le partenaire de Dieu au service de l’humanité tout entière. Ce choix de Dieu qu’on appelle l’élection d’Israël reste valable encore aujourd’hui. Puis le Christ a pris chair au sein de ce peuple élu, et enfin, il a transmis la mission à tous ceux qui veulent bien entrer dans son Église. « Comme le Père m’a envoyé, moi aussi, je vous envoie », dit-il dans l’évangile de Jean (Jn 20, 21). Bien sûr, à force de parler de projet de Dieu, on peut se demander ce que devient notre Liberté. Or, l’une des découvertes d’Israël, c’est que Dieu ne tire pas toutes les ficelles, l’être humain a une responsabilité dans son histoire ; il n’y a pas un scénario écrit d’avance. Au contraire, Dieu respecte la liberté de l’être humain ; et, d’après Saint Pierre, c’est justement parce que Dieu respecte la liberté de chaque être humain que le projet n’avance pas plus vite ! « Le Seigneur ne tarde pas à accomplir sa promesse, alors que certains prétendent qu’il a du retard, mais il fait preuve de patience envers vous, ne voulant pas que quelques-uns périssent mais que tous parviennent à la conversion. » (2 P 3,9). Quand le Christ dit à ses apôtres « Il fallait », il leur apprend justement à reconnaître sous la surface des jours et des millénaires la lente mais sûre maturation de l’humanité nouvelle qui sera un jour réunie en lui. C’est cela « l’intelligence des Écritures ». (Note du P. Mario Doyle, C.Ss.R. : Ce commentaire reproduit largement celui d’une bibliste bien connue des catholiques de France : Marie Noëlle Thabut)

[tma-du-taomapa]

VISITE DU RESTE DE G.C. (VI) : LE POINT CULMINANT DE L'ÎLE

À 1956 mètres au-dessus du niveau de la mer, ce n'est pas -contrairement à ce que beaucoup croient- le "Pico de las nieves", qui ne s'élève qu'à 1949 mètres au-dessus du niveau de la mer, mais bien le "MORRO DE LA AGUJEREADA" que l'on aperçoit ci-dessus...

Je pense qu'il est passé à la trappe à cause de son nom trop compliqué...Mais la vérité vient d'être rétablie ! Il se trouve néanmoins à proximité immédiate de l'autre qui est occupé par un terrain militaire

Un peu avant, nous avions découvert ces "pozzos" (puits) dans lesquels on stockait de la neige tassée utilisée jadis jusqu'en juin pour fabriquer de la glace pour les villages de la vallée ; vue extérieure

et intérieure

À proximité, on pouvait admirer

Il faut savoir que la grisaille observée n'est due ni à la brume, ni au calima (ce vent d'est chargé de sable du Sahara), mais à la fumée provenant de l'incendie qui se propage actuellement sur l'île de TENERIFE...Avant de quitter ces sommets, une petite dernière

Après avoir pique-niqué sur un site aménagé de camping, nous sommes repartis vers LPGC en passant par deux agglomérations intéressantes.

D'abord SAN BARTOLOMÈ DE TIRAJANA avec son église

ornée de statuettes telles que

sans oublier celle du saint patron

et avec, dans ses rues, des reliquats de festivités récentes

ainsi qu'une belle

Ensuite, AGÜIMES, où l'église était close mais où j'ai pu apprécier

et où, à chaque coin de rue, on trouvait des statues métalliques (bronze ?). Il y en avait jusque sur la place centrale

comme par exemple cette vieille distribuant des friandises

Ailleurs, on pouvait rencontrer

ou (avec un fond musical...)

mais surtout

Nous sommes ensuite rentrés sur LPGC par de nouvelles petites routes de crêtes

[thewafflescientist]

sighs okay wait i wanna explain my design for him really quick. keep in mind this was done without references available to me and based off of recollection so this isn't the fully steamed out design (if i do fully steam it out and polish it)

First of all the aspects I wanted to keep was the glasses, the fairy theme, being christmas based, & winter, but a lot of it i just. didnt? i think there was a lot of missed potential w the ideas they had, and if they went down another route I could've forgiven them for the christmas theme

For the glasses I changed them to be more oval shaped & have chains(?) hanging off of them, one that hangs down to have a little mistletoe charm w leaves and one that goes back. like those grandma glasses chains but in a classy wine aunt way. i wanted him to look a little less "bobble the tinkerer" and a little more "knowledgeable" because he is a grown man & i think he deserves to look a bit more mature?

I made his hair softer in its texture and made it more similar to his original hairstyle, but added some curl and volume to make him feel more festive. the way a performer would style their hair, but i wanted it to have a nice airy flow, similar to clouds. to make him look generally more gentle in his demeanour and still keep his look but have a diff hairstyle, instead of having that middle part. i think the added texture gives it a bit more freedom and shape, and i understand there's limitations to the idv style, but i think lifting his hair away from his face a bit and adding some layers wldve fixed it. in my art idea, his hair is a light colour, thinking like a white or at the very least a platinum blond

i also wanted 2 keep him as a fairy or at least smth similar!! so instead i made him a snow faerie rather than an elf/pixie (even though pixie/fairy roughly can translate to 'elf' in german, and victor is almost certainly german even if it isn't confirmed). snow faeries are a nature spirit of December, and i referenced my book of shadows for this. bc vic is germanic and has had germanic & nordic tradition and culture referenced previously in his character and designs (In the Embrace, he's clearly celtic + nordic) I figured it'd be more fitting to make him more themed around paganism & yule aspects rather than christmas. they're very similar due to history but i think adding that small bit of witchery & culture helps distinguish him from "Christmas outfit" to "Festive costume", which can reallt help make a design stand out imo? especially when they're going w a fairy thing. The shitty little small wings I think just made him look more... childish, than whimsical, which is unfortunate. i wanted to keep him as a snow faerie bc i felt it was only fitting he got a bit of festive whimsy but i wanted to make it feel a little more mature n less like a kid wearing those wing backpack thingamabobbers

so yes he got big old icy n frosty wings that i think will be slightly similar to frosted stained glass in my coloured/polished version (if i make one) and not little pixie wings. he gets to be a big faerie today

^ so adding onto that, i completely changed his outfit. i just. dont like it. and i wanted him to fit my snow faerie germanic & celtic boy. i gav rhim a little corset bc i think he was missing a bit of stuff around his waist & shit in my original concept (where he did not have that), and gave him an ornamental lil snowflake thing to tie into it. i think it's a liytle tacky in my original concept but I'll probably refine on it a little more. i gave him two belts simply to add some asymmetry, a golden bell (both in reference to the 'bronze bell' that acted as a cue for him and wick as a postman, but also bc bells r a common theme in holidays) to one waist n a lil pouch to thevother. he also got a waist/legs harness bc i think it was a lil plain on his legs and just lacked some flavour.

he also got a hat!! a furry hat w two lil horns bc i thought they were cute and i wanted to add a bit of detail. it has a fur rim n is a lil bit more like a beret (? im not sure what hat types are, but it's relatively flat. maybe more of a toque) than a santa hat. i havent drawn the back so i cant decide what patterns he has on that

and the big bushy fur coat was simply bc... well i think it made him look nice n cozy n a lil bit like a rich wine auntie. and i think personally he deserves to be a bit of a wine auntie for this season. after getting dumped on a bridge as a kid, having ur only friend die when ur 15, getting involved in the mob, n being nearlt murdered by an embalmer? maybe he deserves a drink on his bday!!! he deserves to be an expensive n prissy wine auntie!!! it's still HIS day even if nobody wants to spend it w him bc they're all celebrating w their family. he gets to be spoiled i think n a big fur coat that gives him a super large n fluffy frame is absolutely vital to lookign rich n expensive w ur tastes. plus he's also a snow faerie, and faeries (not fairies, very different) are known to be a little tricky (and at times, can be a bit entitled, the clever beings that they are)

he also wears heeled boots bc he's got little digitigrade feet and it'd be a more "natural" sole for him than flat feet, bc digitigrade paws don't ever go fully on yhe ground unless they're laying down. this is more just for my fun little silliness n brainrot bc he gets little paw pads n i think that's an absolutely beautiful thing but it's totally vital to my design. the boots obviously have a fur trim to match with everything else n snowflake decals on them to boot!!!

additionally he's meant to have his arms n hands fade to black to sorta represent frostbite in a way, and also bc it's a very classy (and albeit, very common trope, but it's common for a reason) way to make him look a little more sinister(?). unfortunately these (like his feet) r also covered by big ol mittens but i think the mittens r super cute so they get to stay bc they match everything else

additionally i just made him an expensive wine aunt who wld have those little tiny house sets but like a whole village n the fake train n like 5 different christmas trees (all themed) for the holiday season as well as like a thousand yule logs & candles (vanilla or pine scented, of course) around his house. he's obviously drinking a very expensive domaine de la romaneé-conti wine & eating homebaked goods all the while. it wouldn't be a wine aunt winter faerie w/o the most expensive wine he can get his lil clawed hands on if he wasn't spoiling himself for his bday

anyways that's it n as u can tell im a little?? brain thinker when it comes to victor grantz idv. btw i think he'd be called possibly Deorwine or Félagi :3 if he wasn't just called Victor

hello to my faithful idvers who r just as anguished and dismayed by how ugly victors s tier is. i was quite disturbed and petrified when i saw it. anyways i made him a snow faerie these doodles r a lil shitty but he's made for my wine aunt victor agenda

idk. i think my main gripes w it are the general tackiness of it and the way it just clashes? i think it'd be cute, but not for him. not saying my design is objectively any better but i DO think it at least fits how my victor is headcanoned to look, so it's at least arguably a little better in that aspect

I'm jus saddened that he got christmas merched again for hsi second s tier when he's got sooo much cool potential bc of how silent they r about his lore and character. there's so much they could've done n a lotta potential methinks. generally a lot of his lore is incredibly quiet n we only recently had gotten information on his actual background but a lit of it is kept inconclusive. bc we dont know a lot ab the mob he was in & definitively why he acts the way he does about things other than his mom supposedly told him a certain thing when he was young..maybe im overreading but i think the fact he got a shitty s tier as another "Christmas bday = ez christmas money" thing is just sad

[dwellordream]

Women and literature: letters, prayers and poems

“Women participated in personal relationships with churchmen. For example, Eva Crispin (d. 1099), who retired to the abbey of Le Bec, treated the brother of Gilbert Crispin as her spiritual son. A relationship such as this probably involved spiritual guidance and counselling as well as practical advice and support. Margaret, Queen of Scotland, adopted Lanfranc as her ‘spiritual father’ c. 1070–89, 7 and Lanfranc wrote to her to express his joy at accepting the role. Queen Margaret had requested Lanfranc to send her some monks; in his letter he states that he was sending three, who were, in effect, on loan. 

The monks, he states, are ‘really indispensable’ in his church, and this statement, no doubt, served to flatter the queen, since he had sent her men of ability. Further, if she was willing, he wanted them returned at a later date. They were clearly to give her practical support and advice concerning her establishment of Holy Trinity, Dunfermline. Thus a spiritual relationship could take a very practical form. The patronage of the church was intrinsic to aristocratic culture, and royal women were often involved in patronage of not only the fabric of the buildings through grants of land and emoluments but also interior furnishings, books and relics.

For example, Countess Judith of Flanders presented a fine crucifix to Durham and sacred relics and objects of art to the abbey of Weingarten, including a relic of the holy blood that she had inherited from her father. Queen Matilda, the wife of the Conqueror, gave a richly decorated chasuble to the monks of Saint-Évroul, and Adeline, the wife of Roger of Beaumont, gave them an ‘alb richly ornamented with orphrey’. Queen Matilda, the wife of Henry I, established an Augustinian house of canons, patronised other religious institutions and made personal gifts of bronze candlesticks to Hildebart of Lavardin and Cluny. She provided Chartres with two bells and Westminster Abbey with liturgical garments.

Queen Matilda received a letter and prayer composed for her by Bishop Herbert Losinga of Norwich in 1118. The prayer to St John is a lyrical plea for healing and health, for the saint to act as an intercessor for the forgiveness of sins and for Matilda to be given to the protection of the Virgin Mary. Given that Matilda died in May 1118, it is possible that the prayer was composed for her in the context of illness. The choice for the direction of this prayer is interesting, since St John was a virgin, and this is stressed within the prayer. The virgin John was a suitable intercessor with the supreme Virgin – the Virgin Mary. 

Herbert, when composing the prayer, would have carefully selected appropriate imagery befitting a queen. The fruit of Queen Matilda’s artistic and literary connections, the letters and literature which survive, served to ‘create an aura of legitimacy and prestige’ in her position as queen. Spiritual counsel could be an important part of the relationship between leading churchmen and important political women such as the queen, or powerful countesses. The relationship between important noblewomen and clerics thus stimulated the production of letters and spiritual texts. 

A critical re-evaluation of these texts could begin to trace the developing discourse of twelfth-century female spirituality in the particular context of prescriptive spirituality for the recipient in her public role as queen. The cultivation of a spiritual relationship could yield political dividends and it could thus be used to influence political events of significance. Thus spiritual relationships were an expression of aristocratic social cohesiveness and a route whereby women could exert power. 

An impressive illustration of these themes is provided by Adela of Blois, the daughter of William the Conqueror, and Matilda, who married Stephen count of Blois (d. 1102). Adela was a keen patron of the arts. As Elisabeth van Houts pointed out, she was a patron of the poet Godfrey of Rheims, who, in 1080–5, wrote to Adela praising her as a regia virgo, a royal virgin. Godfrey wrote that it was God’s will that William had been successful at Hastings, since Adela was then born the daughter of a king instead of a duke.

Hugh of Fleury dedicated his Historia Ecclesiastica to her. He praised her for her literacy, generosity and intelligence. Adela had also received the Flowers of Psalms and seven prayers selected by Anselm at her request. He also sent some prayers that he had composed for her. These were a decisive break with previous traditions in personal prayer, and marked a significant step in the development of the Anselmian revolution in the composition of texts for personal devotion. He also included advice on how to meditate.

The relationship between Adela and Anselm was of both a political and a spiritual, personal nature. Eadmer reveals that it was Adela who played a pivotal role in resolving a dispute between her brother Henry and Anselm in 1105 at the height of the conflict between them. Eadmer informs us that she sent to Anselm to tell him that she was ill and he  diverted to minister to her. She was appalled to hear that her brother was about to be excommunicated and arranged a meeting between Anselm and Henry at which they resolved their differences for good.

Her illness was probably a pretext to divert Anselm to her court, where she could influence him. Adela was a peacemaker in the dispute between her brother and the exiled archbishop of Canterbury, and arguably she acted to care for her brother’s soul in a familial context. However, the resolution of the dispute is also of political significance, and here Adela’s actions assume a wider context, since she used her informal influence, which was strengthened through a spiritual relationship, to resolve a political dispute. 

There is a further dimension to the fact that Anselm diverted to see Adela on hearing that she was ill. Evidently his role as a spiritual adviser involved an obligation for the care of her soul to attend her in the case of serious illness to prepare Adela for death. This network of spiritual guidance and social intercourse was normal and part of the culture of aristocratic and noble women – indeed, the women of the Conqueror’s family were particularly prominent as patrons.

Adela attracted the attention of important clergy who were keen to foster relations with her. For example, Baudri abbot of Bourgueil (1079–1130) wrote a poem of 1,367 lines for Adela which describes the furnishings and rich decorations of her hall and bedchamber. It used to be thought that the rich visual imagery and the detail in his descriptions were suggestive of a personal relationship between Adela and Baudri, and that he might have visited her palace.

However, Shirley Ann Brown and Michael Herren have cast doubt on this assumption in their comparison of the Bayeux Tapestry itself with the descriptions of the tapestry which Baudri purports to have seen hanging in Adela’s chamber, which historians have assumed was the Bayeux Tapestry. Whether or not Baudri visited Adela, the poem is significant, since it illustrates what an important abbot thought was a suitably flattering description to offer an important woman, as well as providing clues about the material culture of an aristocratic secular woman. 

It also illustrates the range of cultural influences in northern France, and significantly Baudri emphasised the role of Adela in the design and creation of tapestries. Firstly, he described a role which women of Adela’s status undertook, that is, to oversee and direct the women who made cloth and designed tapestry, and, secondly, he flattered her artistic skills. Baudri’s relationship with Adela was not unique: he wrote poetry and obituaries for other women, although none of such length and detail as those to Adela. 

He wrote to Adela’s sister, Cecilia, a nun at Holy Trinity, Caen, as well as to a certain Agnes, a Lady Emma and Beatrice. He also wrote to Constance, his spiritual daughter, who had received her education at the convent of Le Ronceray in Angers, and who replied to his poetry. He composed poetry for Muriel, who was likewise at Le Ronceray and from whom he received poetry in return. Anselm was therefore not alone in the way that he fostered relationships with powerful women. 

Eadmer reveals that on one journey Anselm was delayed and entertained by Countess Ida of Boulogne, when he ‘conferred’ with her. According to Sally Vaughn, Ida was his ‘closest and most intimate confidante, student, spiritual daughter and political ally’, with whom he corresponded until his death. Powerful women were worth cultivating: Matilda countess of Tuscany provided him with an escort whilst he was passing through her lands on his way from Rome in 1104. 

Anselm afterwards sent her a complete copy of his Prayers and Meditations which was made and illustrated for her at Canterbury: a step which again confirmed the shift from private meditation to public consumption of his devotional literature. Wilmart argues that the letters and prayers date from c. 1104, and that Anselm praised Matilda for her prudence; he informed her that her people had taken him on a short safe route, and he praised her for her religious patronage and urged her to take the veil when the moment of death arrived. 

This is good evidence of the importance of the involvement of a secular noble woman in cross-cultural exchanges, and shows Matilda’s importance in her cultural, religious and political activities. It is also worthy of note that Anselm urged her to take the veil only at the moment of death, not before. Other churchmen dispensed spiritual advice to women throughout the twelfth century, for example through the medium of hagiography. 

The study of Vitae has been an area of increased scholarly interest, and the meaning of saints and saints’ cults has likewise received considerable attention, as has women’s mysticism and spirituality. Despite the hagiographic convention and the Christian didactic purpose of saints’ lives, they are valuable sources which can be used to study aspects of noblewomen and power in twelfth-century society, although such a project has its own methodological difficulties. 

Indeed, Jocelyn Wogan-Browne discussed three female-authored twelfth-century Vitae and showed the specific problems inherent in recovering women’s experience from hagiographic sources. The twelfth-century Vita of Christina of Markyate has been studied for its value as a source for twelfth-century female religious. Thomas Head, however, analysed the Life in terms of the socio-cultural contexts of twelfth-century developing notions of marriage. He stressed the power of Christina to seize control over her own life to become ‘a primary actor in the drama of her own salvation’. 

Her difficult adolescence where she was in fear of marriage is a topos typical in Vitae of female saints. Yet the female life cycle can be seen as paramount in defining Christina’s options, since Christina became secure in her vocation only once her childbearing years were over. Other Vitae confirm that social and spiritual relationships were important forms of male–female interaction and collaboration. 

The Life of St Hugh of Lincoln by Adam of Eynsham was written as part of the campaign for Hugh’s canonisation. It depicts a courtly political bishop attending to the spiritual needs of his flock, including, for example, ‘devout matrons’ and the bereaved Queen Berengaria following the death of Richard I, and adjudicating in cases of adultery. More interestingly, women’s voices can be detected as witnesses to his sanctity. 

A significant number of those who testified to miracle cures were women; of twenty-nine individuals who are listed as having been cured of some affliction by miracles eighteen were women. In this respect this 2:1 pattern of imbalance in women : men miracle cures is a phenomenon that applies to other twelfth-century saints. Women’s testimony and role as sources of information on the saint are therefore one way in which they could influence the shape and content of the text. 

Georges Whalen has shown that in Goscelin’s Life of Edith statements of women’s theological equality in Christ were employed where women were the majority of witnesses to allay fears about the validity of female witnesses. No such statements were required for male witnesses. Women were prominent as witnesses, and thus in the creation of social memory, in John of Ford’s Life of Wulfric of Haslebury, a parish priest turned anchorite in rural Somerset who died in 1154. These witnesses included women from the nobility, five local anchoresses and village women.

The Life also depicts social interaction between the anchorite and women, as well as spiritual advice and relationships. The dispensation of spiritual advice could be achieved through social/spiritual interaction, and also through letters. Peter of Blois wrote to the archdeacon of Picardy that his niece Alice should not be forced to become a nun, but in a later letter to her he congratulated her on her choice of vocation.

In the mid-twelfth century Amice countess of Leicester received a letter from Gilbert Foliot. Writing c. 1163–68, he apologises for being unable to visit her, owing to his duties and obligations, and states that he ought to have written to her before. Gilbert Foliot was also in correspondence with her husband Earl Robert (II) of Leicester (d. 1168) in the same period, which suggests that the extant letters were sent together but were intended for each individual separately. These socially exclusive circles of friendship, cultivated through spiritual relationships, reinforced aristocratic and noble social and political cohesion. Noblewomen, as part of the landed élite, actively participated in such relationships.”

- Susan M. Johns, “Patronage and Power.” in Noblewomen, Aristocracy and Power in the Twelfth-Century Anglo-Norman Realm

[hermits-that-craft]

In My Dreams (Will You Remember Me?)

Flower Husbands Fic - Chapter Four - The hues in our hair compliment one another

Ao3 in the comments

Jimmy watches as the guests walk in, gawking at the decorations that he, Katherine and Gem put so much effort into. Pride fills his chest - a week of hard work paying off in happy citizens and rulers alike. Jimmy nods politely to Iris as they walk in, he knows that being one of Pix’s advisors means that the dryad doesn’t get much time off, so he hopes that they enjoy themself.

A group of dryads bow to him before they disappear into the crowd, which makes him happy - he’s still recognisable with the mask that Katherine gave him. It’s a standard masquerade mask, though it has small cod painted on it in bronze paint, though it has a white veil attached the the lower half to cover his face. It was nice of Katherine, to remember that he prefers to hide his face.

He feels safe with his face hidden.

Jimmy watches as a young woman in a black cloak comes in, and an axolotl hybrid from his empire chats with a man from Mezalea. He’s glad that they opened to ball not only to the leaders of the empires but their citizens as well, and a fae man in a forest green vest dances with a spirit in a ribbon skirt.

The doors open, distracting Jimmy from people watching for a moment.

Lizzie walks in, the necklace around her neck shimmering in the glow from the purple lanterns. Jimmy watches as everyone gawks at the wedding gift that he gave her - it’s rare to see her wear it out of battle. The necklace has two axolotls, one made of rose quartz and the other of red jasper, curled around a pearl and inset in silver. It was handcrafted by the finest artisans of the Cod Empire, and Jimmy himself carefully enchanted it with healing and protection.

The best wedding gift she received, if Jimmy does say so himself.

“You clean up nicely, did Katherine give you that suit?” Lizzie teases, pointedly ignoring the stares she receives as she walks across the room to him.

“You’ll find that your husband did, for your wedding.” Jimmy smiles. “Though I did get it altered slightly for the party.”

“You didn’t put slime in it, did you?”

“Lizzie!” Jimmy gasps, pushing his sisters arm in rage. She laughs, ignoring his fake rage.

“I’m very glad you ditched the cod head.” She says. “I think Katherine would have killed you.”

“She actually gave me this mask.” Jimmy admits. 

“Ohh, look at Scott’s outfit.” Lizzie says, and Jimmy turns back to the crowd. 

Scott stands next to Joey, looking mildly uncomfortable. The king of the lost empire wears a red suit with a black crown, rubies and jaspers adorning it. But Joey’s outfit pales in comparison to the one that Scott wears.

Scott’s wearing an intricate white top, with long sleeves that bell out at the end. He has a high waisted skirt, fading from a sky blue into a deep, ocean blue. He looks like he’s stepped out of a high fantasy story, a golden crown shimmering in his blue hair. He looks stunning, making Jimmy feel almost as though he’s underdressed.

Scott makes eye contact with Joey, an emotion Jimmy doesn’t understand flashes in Scott’s eyes as he walks over to Jimmy.

“Lizzie, I think I’ve made him angry.” Jimmy mumbles, breaking eye contact with Scott. 

“He’s your land boy, you work it out.” Lizzie says. “I need to go find my land boy.”

“Scott isn’t mine, Lizzie - Don’t leave me!” Jimmy protests, but it’s already too late, the queen of the ocean has left Jimmy to whatever fate Scott has planned for him.

Hopefully Lizzie will hold a nice funeral for him.

“You look nice.” Scott says softly, barely audible over the music.

“Oh, thank you.” Jimmy says, the back of his neck reddening. “You clearly outclass everyone here.”

“You really think so?” Scott asks, his face red. Poor Scott, he mustn’t get complimented often. 

“I know so.” Jimmy smiles, though the man can’t see it.

“Could I ask you to dance?” Scott asks, offering Jimmy his hand. Jimmy blinks in surprise, looking into Scott’s eyes in shock. The elven man’s eyes glitter in the lantern light, light and full of something Jimmy can’t quite place.

Even so, Jimmy puts his hand into Scott’s, and lets the man pull him into a dance.

Scott’s hand rests on Jimmy’s waist, and Jimmy puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder, letting him lead. Scott, thankfully, doesn’t mention when Jimmy steps on his feet, the king just mumbling instructions to Jimmy as he leads them.

“You teach dances like this often?” Jimmy asks breathlessly, trying to concentrate on not stepping on Scott’s feet.

“No, I don’t. I don’t think I’m even teaching you this correctly.” Scott admits. “I’m not even sure this is a real dance.”

“This feels pretty real to me.” Jimmy says, his heart picking up. “Kind of familiar, like I’ve done it in a dream, but real?”

“This is dreamlike?” Scott asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Jimmy admits. “Do you think we could spin with this dance.”

“If you want to, then of course.” Scott says, spinning Jimmy around.

Jimmy giggles slightly, breathless as his hand falls onto Scott’s shoulder again. Scott leads them again, and Jimmy lets his feet go without thinking. It’s like the dance he had in his nightmare, with his shadow husband. Scott’s hand on his waist is comforting, a promise of safety, in a party of peace.

The music slows and they stop, breathless and hearts hammering. Jimmy takes his hand off of Scott’s shoulder, pulling away from his dance partner.

“I’m going to get a drink, you coming?” Jimmy offers. Maybe this could end with a new ally, a new friend.

“I need some air.” Scott admits, rubbing the back of his neck as though he’s nervous. “I’ll see you later?”

“See you soon.” Jimmy promises, smiling brightly at the elf.

The other man just nods, walking out of the room and up the stairs. Jimmy moves off of the dancefloor, avoiding bumping into people as he makes his way to the table, picking a prawn off of the table to eat while he looks for something to drink.

“Enjoying the food?” Pearl asks, startling Jimmy.

“It’s nice.” Jimmy says. “I love the prawns.”

“Thank you! I was hoping to get something from every empire.” Pearl says. “I’m glad I got something for you and Lizzie. Your empires were the hardest.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I could have helped.” Jimmy apologises.

“Don’t be. Be more sorry that you didn’t tell Katherine about you and Scott. She’s rather excited that the prospect of you two being together.”

“What?” Jimmy asks, blinking.

“Oh, if it’s supposed to be a secret I’ll tell her to leave you two alone.” Pearl says, laughing. “Next time, though, don’t dance in a public ball like that. Rumours will spread!”

Jimmy stands confused, staring at the space that Pearl used to be in. He must be tired, why would anyone start a rumour about him and Scott? There’s nothing to talk about. They’re potentially friends, barely aquantinces. 

“I should find Scott.” Jimmy mumbles, walking in a daze towards the stairs. Scott must be on the balcony, right?

“Jimmy!” Pixl says, relief on his face. “You need to come with me. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Jimmy asks incredulously. “Why are we leaving?”

“Emergency at Lizzie’s empire, she’s asked that we both attend.” Pixl says, grabbing Jimmy’s hand and dragging him out. 

“What’s the emergency?” Jimmy asks, waving goodbye to Pearl and Gem at the door. The two of them share relieved looks as Pixl drags Jimmy further away.

Lizzie and Joel stand in the middle of the courtyard, holding a spare pair of elytra that they put of Jimmy’s shoulders as Pixl straps himself into his own elytra. Jimmy straps the elytra on, wriggling uncomfortably.

“What’s going on?”

“Gem told us to go home.” Lizzie says. “Sausage and Fwip are up to no good, apparently.” 

“Pixl said that there was an emergency at your empire?”

“I lied.” Pixl says. “Don’t look at me like that, you wouldn’t have come otherwise!”

“Look as funny as this is we have to go.” Joel says, pushing Jimmy and Pixl slightly.

The group takes off, flying into the sky. Guilt eats at Jimmy the further they fly away, and he turns back to look at the hall. Did anyone warn Scott that Sausage and Fwip were up to something?

He broke his promise to Scott.

----

“You look cute in the bunker.” The shadow says, sitting on the roof. Jimmy can just barely see out of it, and he knows that his husband wouldn’t be able to see at all.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for battle?” Jimmy asks. “You don’t want to die.”

“I’m on my green life. I’m fine.” His husband says. “You’re the one we’ve got to worry about. Burning Dogwarts banner, really poppy?”

“I don’t want to see you sacrificed on any altar, petal.” Jimmy responds easily. “I’ll be fine, the bunker is safe and there’s an emergency exit.”

“Promise me you’ll come home.” His husband asks, standing up. 

“For you? Of course.” Jimmy responds. “In sickness and health. You’ll always have me by your side.”

Jimmy watches as the shadow people fight. It’s dreamlike, unreal to him. Swords clash and fires spread across a desert stained in blood. The dogwarts banner flies and burns and his allies are so outnumber it won’t ever be fair.

And a scream tears from his throat as his husband is shot.

His body dissipates, he’s not dead. Not permanently, but something is wrong. This world mustn’t have respawn, not the infinite respawn that it’s supposed to. Green life. First life. 

The love of his life is dead. He will come back, but he’s dead now.

“We want that banner!” A man yells, an enemy. There isn’t any winning this. He needs to get to him, to his husband, to his petal.

He’s shot through the throat on the ladder to the escape route.

Jimmy's screams echo through his empire. Not for the first time does he long for the embrace of someone who isn't even real

[millicent-dagworth]

Bronze Bell Character Bio's

These are meant to be just quick overview of the changes to their personalities and backstories. Since we're only swapping the lords, this does mean that a number of characters don't have any changes but are still added so we don't forget anyone.

Mercenaries

Byleth: chooses Golden Deer.

Beles: chooses Black Eagles. The sword of the Creator stays with her during the time skip.

Jeralt: still dies.

Chez: The cool aunt/uncle figure that steps up to lead the group after Jeralt’s death and the twins' disappearance. 

Blue Lions/Kingdom

Dimitri: (Claude) The Tragedy of Duscur never happens, his father never remarries. Dimitri has a lot of pressure on him as the next king. But his father does die during the time-skip due to sickness. He lost his left eye during an assassination attempt after his coronation.

Dedue: Becomes besties with Dimitri via diplomatic relations between their fathers.

Dusan: Close friends with both Dedue and Dimitri. Childhood friends with Ashe. Captain of the Royal Guard in Duscur. Happier and still has his parents and siblings, who are both successful in their own fields. He's tortured and experimented on by TWSITD during the 5-year gap and given an unstable version of the Crest of Ernest. Parents both pass over those 5 years due to old age, but both siblings are still alive.

Sylvain: No change.

Felix: Still friends with Dimitri and broody but does have healthier coping mechanisms.

Ingrid: Happier, but still as strict. Still engaged with Glenn

Ashe: Not really changed. He is still close with Christophe after he joins the church.

Mercedes: Not changed. Though Mercedes is ecstatic to be reunited with her brother.

Annette: Happier with her father still around.

Glenn: Still alive. Dotes on his brother since his dad is still a pos

Rodrigue: Still a pos dad, compares Felix to Glenn all the time (Who shuts that shit down)

Lonato: Does not start a rebellion against the Church

Miklan: Has not changed, still a pos

Gilbert: Stayed around, is a good dad

Golden Deer/Alliance

Claude: (Edelgard) Crests- Crest of Flames, Crest of Riegan. Less Laid-back, and more paranoid unless he’s around Cynthia or Byleth. Always has some sort of scheme up his sleeve. More willing to use lethal poisons but less willing to put his friends in danger. Uses the persona of The Gilded Emperor when forced to work with TWSITD.

Hilda: Less lazy, but still a girly girl. Also does not have the same hatred towards fighting as she does in cannon

Cynthia: Crests- Crest of Aubin, Crest of Macuil. She is also kidnapped/forced to work with TWSITD due to them holding her brother hostage. Less of a spitfire. Calmer, more refined. Does not curse. Unwilling betrothed to Claude on both sides.

Lorenz: No change

Raphael: No change

Ignatz: No change

Lysithea: No change really

Marianne: No change

Leonie: No change

Nader: Working to find the Almyra Prince (Claude)

Judith: No personality change, but does worry about what Claude isn’t telling her. Also teases him about him being betrothed

Eric: Equivalent of the Death Knight. Escapes from TWSITD after the time skip and eventually joins up with the Blue Lions/Black Eagles

Black Eagles/Empire

Edelgard: (Dimitri) Snapped due to rage concerning how her family was killed/endangered. Much friendlier towards Dimitri, and more prone to violent outbursts when it comes to TWSITD. After the time skip, what snaps her out of this rage is when Beles almost dies to protect her, making her realize that if she continues then she’s no better than TWSITD.

Hubert: Stays the same but is friendlier with Ferdinand. Stays with Edelgard during the time skip.

Ferdinand: Does not like being called “prince”, less competitive with Edelgard. Also friendlier with Hubert. Strained relationship with his father due to seeing how weirdly obsessed he is with the throne (and how he’s only proud of Ferdinand while on the throne).

Linhardt: More of a worry wart when it comes to Caspar. Has learned how to not throw up as much when healing as well as how to keep Caspar still while he looks over him.

Caspar: Brother was killed in the uprising of Brigid, less cheerful unless he’s around Linhardt and/or Cress. Tends to be a bit reckless when it comes to protecting those he cares about. After Cress’s “death” focuses more on his training and becomes more reckless.

Petra: Quieter due to her language “issues” unless she’s around her other classmates (then she’s more of her normal bubbly self)

Dorothea: no change.

Bernadetta: no change.

Cressida: no change until the time skip, then she becomes darker and angrier. This is due to her being left behind during the attack on the Church and having to cope with the loss of her foot alone.

Church

Rhea: no change

Seteth: no change

Flayn: no change

Hanneman: No change

Manuela: no change

Alois: no change

Catherine: ran away from her house with Christophe, in a relationship with Shamir and Christophe.

Shamir: No change.

Christophe: Still alive, in a relationship with Catherine and Shamir.

Cyril: Works under Nader looking for the lost Almyra Prince (Claude). Does still recognize how important “Lady Rhea” is to the Church and still genuinely wants to help the Monastery

Jeritza: Still the same, just not the Death Knight. Very happy to see his sister again. She convinces him to get help for the blackouts he gets.

Holst: Inherits the family title but doesn’t become a general due to no fighting with Almyra

TWSITD

Thales: Disguised as Claude’s Uncle, Godfrey, used an attack to disguise the swap.

Solon: Literally no change.

Kronya: Disguised as a former Golden Deer student who went missing.

Masterpost | Character Bio's | Time Line | Misc

[ask-victor-grantzcampbell]

My dearest friend,

I do hope that you forgive me for not being able to greet you yesterday during my route. It has been much more busier these last few days with the sudden disappearance of the PostMaster. The following route had been changed quite a lot and I still have much to get use to.

Did you know that I've been trusted with the bronze bell? It's an honor to finally have something to help call people to me for their letters. But that is enough about me, what of you, my friend?

Your name has been dripping from many mouths - both good and bad. Many say you've written many helpful things while others say that what is printed is blasphemy and immoral! Truly people seem to see only what they wish to see do they not?

With some of the attention you receive on your worst days I worry about your safety. There are many people that might try to alienate you and come to wish harm on you.

Please be careful.

Also, I did not know that you had received a dog! What a lovely dog it was with such a round little body and paws! I believe I heard you call your companion Wick? Is that correct? Truly we must share similar tastes with dog names! I do not think I told you as a child, there had been a house fire that claimed the home my brother and I resided in and during the chaos there had been a little frenchie that I had managed to rescue and I had named him Wick as well. A silly name, Norton gave me some gripe on it but ultimately he relented on it though I did not know that my Wick was sick though he showed no traces of it, it was truly sad to lose such a kind and loving friend...

I hope that you love and cherish your Wick well, keep Wick safe and happy as well as yourself. This letter should be cut short now; the new PostMaster has summoned me to greet a new person in the business, my gut twists but it might be anxiety at meeting a new person.

Goodbye for now my friend,

Victor Grantz-Campbell

[alicehealer2]

A Magic Library in the city of Eltot

Chapter One: Light Reading

“My name is Alexander Antonio the fourth, I hail from the eastern isles and I am an adventurer. Slaying monsters, punching Krakens, the works. I come here for adventure, fortune, and glory, but most importantly I wish to see the sights of this fine city.”

“Sir I’m going to have to ask you to order there’s a line forming.”

“Ah! Right, sorry, one Eltot-Kebab please.”

The young man in front of the brick and mortar grill rolls his eyes and passes me a kebab. I have the decency to blush.

It’s been too long since I could eat real meat. Being at sea for a whole twelve hours does that to a man. Granted it only took so long because of that damn Kraken. You’d think the army would have done something by now considering it’s a major trade route, but then again, it’s more work for me so I won’t complain. I walk through the cobbled streets, taking in the towering architecture of this ancient city of stone when I come across an anomaly. Far taller than the rest, a temple of black rock looms over the city radiating a powerful presence as if to say, “I will still be here when this city falls.”

I feel like a rich kid staring at a toy store.

The wrought iron gates open up to a wild garden of trees and bushes, covering all but the path, creating a tunnel out of the tree branches. To the side of the gate lays a bronze plaque stating this is ‘The Grand Library of Eltot-Sira.’ As tradition for possibly haunted buildings, I bow in front of the gate and say a prayer to the architect who designed it before trekking on. As soon as I enter the gates the trees give me shade from the coastal heat of the sun and managed to filter out the smell of the sea with its flora. A modest oak door stands at the end of the path, I knock three times, wait, then push open the door.

A bell chimes and I’ve entered another world. Shelves, taller than any boat and half as wide fill the cathedral. The rows are lit by small orbs of magic but fail to reach the windowless roof, if there even is an end to the abyss of the sky. I’ve never been much of a reader but who knows what ancient quests lay dormant in these walls. I start forward and try to find the ‘secret quests for heroes’ section.

…

I’ve been walking in a straight line for what must have been an hour and I still haven’t reached the back of the library. Finally, I find something I recognize, a cute girl!

She’s standing in front of a bookshelf with a book larger than I’ve ever seen before, not that I’ve seen many, but she seems completely absorbed in its contents. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable standing up reading all that, but I’ve had worse sleeping positions. Long Blonde hair tamed by a red clip with a small ornamental rose. A long, flowy black dress with a scarlet shirt underneath and a thin cardigan over the top covers up her frame, almost cylindrical like a wizard’s robe.

“GREETINGS!”

A girlish scream comes from the screaming girl as she throws the book at my face. I deftly catch it only to almost drop it as the weight of the book overwhelms me.

“Apologies! I did not mean to scare you! I didn’t expect to find another person here!”

“P-please stop shouting.”

“O-oh sorry”

She straightens up and walks towards me holding out her hand.

“I’m Joanna, the librarian here, although the library tends to do everything itself so caretaker might be a better name.”

I grasp her hand to shake it.

 “U-uh no- “

 “My name is Alexander Antonio the fourth, you can call me Alex.”

 “Uh, I’m Joanna and it’s very nice to meet you, Alex but, uh, I was reaching for the book you’re holding.”

 “AH! yes, here you go!”

She manages to make the book look absolutely weightless, picking it up with one hand before, to my astonishment, levitating it away into the dark, upper shelves.

“HOW DID YOU DO THAT?! THAT WAS AWESOME!”

She flinches away from my voice and I can’t help but frown.

“A-ah, it’s because I’m the librarian. The books just sort of do what I want them to do.”

 “That’s so cool!” I try to lower my voice and it seems to work as she smiles at me.

“Yeah, I guess it is kinda cool. I’m so used to the library I forget this isn’t something you see every day.”

“Do you think if I stood on two books, I could use it to fly?”

“Please don’t stand on the books.”

“Yes, mam.”

She bounces from foot to foot as the silence extends.

“OH YEAH! Do you have any books with like, super-secret old quests that point me to a treasure or a dragon or something?”

“Um, no but we do have a book on local mythology, a book on ancient king burial grounds, and a book called ‘Better Homes and Dragons’ which I haven’t read but might help.” As she says this, three books fly into her hands, and hands them to me with a smile on her face.

“Thank you! I’ll read them straight away!”

“Just take a left here and the library will guide you to a reading area.” “I’ll talk to you later, Joanna!” I give her my most heroic smile and start walking to the right. Just like Joanna said, a reading room forms out of the endless abyss with the first window I’ve seen all day, looking out over a garden with a marble gazebo, untouched by the wilds.

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 20

Description:

Notes:  WC: 7.4k

+

It wasn't long at all until he realized something was different––not specifically in you, or in his environment, but within his thoughts. Things had shifted, and the constant anxieties of where food and water was coming from next were turned to empty slots in his mind, slots you happily filled.

Against his will, he could think of little else besides you. He tried many things as well––staying away from you, keeping close to you, but he had yet to touch you in any way that really mattered. Fluttering glances and barely-there graces didn't count, nor did misplaced kisses on saner, safer areas. No, his dreams offered him no break from the annoyingly insistent thoughts, and instead supplied him with the endless imagination of an unchecked mind. Drowning in the image of your closed eyes slotted next to his in soft kisses, of your fingertips trailing across his bare waist.

But you would never do that.

He stared longingly at you through the gate he guarded, leaning on his wooden and bronze spear as you dug in the garden. Zakiti, your work partner, was travelling back and forth between where new trees had been dropped off, and where you were told to plant them.

In fact, he was so absorbed in your moving lips that he barely heard his own partner talking to him from across the gate.

"What are you, in love with Zakiti?" He asked, but he spoke in Akkadian, and Ahkmen had yet to pick up more of the complex words. One phrase you taught him was –

"I do not speak Akkadian," he said.

Luqa––or at least that's what Ahk thought his name was––just sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back to face front. Ahkmen frowned softly but turned to attention as well.

That was generally how he spent his working hours. Much like he had in the House of Life in Egypt, he wasted away the time by staring at you or thinking of you, phasing out at the thought of knowing you. He was sure his coworker was tired of his shenanigans, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about what Luqa thought.

Fortunately, neither of you had work that often, and after asking the stewardess, your schedules were matched up to have the same amount of free time at the same time. The two of you took full advantage of that, spending many of your days strolling throughout the city and trying the new foods and beers created throughout the mud brick landscape. Strips of gardens were scattered throughout the city, but none more grand than the terraces of flora making up the Hanging Gardens, whose trees leant over with their plentiful fruit. Deep green vines twisted around blue tiled ledges and tall, white pillars, the especially long ones brushing up against the people who came and went from the gardens. You had yet to actually enter any of the Hanging Gardens, but they remained a constant in the background of the city.

Many morning and evenings you spent in the brewery. Sometimes Ahk would follow you, but other times he left to temples and taverns, socializing with the locals in hopes of absorbing more of the language. His favorite time was coming to visit you at the brewery after letting you work for a few hours, as you always lit up like a beacon whenever you caught sight of him.

This time was no different––you raced up the steps, taking his hand and dragging him back down. Today, tarps had been raised above the workshop, blocking away the blearing sun, and allowing a little more comfort in the already-heated environment. Not all of the stations were filled, but your friend Tiamat was still there at your side.

"I am – I am doing a, uh, a way to make my beer, but with the barley," you stuttered out, barely coherent enough for him to understand.

"So... the really alcoholic kind?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"Yes!!" You exclaimed, and Tiamat laughed.

"Here," Tiamat said, gesturing Ahk over to her. She dunked the cup in her hand into the frothing beer, and handed it to him when it filled with the golden liquor.

You and Tiamat waited in baited breath as Ahk slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, sipping at the warm drink with a critical look in his eye. It was sweet––almost like cider, but it burnt his throat on the way down, warming his stomach pleasantly once it was there. He looked up, and you were still watching intently.

"What do you think?" You asked, your hands clasped tight together in front of your chest.

"It's good," he said, nodding. "You know what would go great with this?"

"What?"

"Cardamom. It's a spice, I'm sure they have it here," he said, but your brow furrowed as you looked away, a confused look on your face.

Ahk looked to Tiamat and repeated, "cardamom."

Tiamat, who look equally confused, said something to you that you had to translate.

"We do not know the word in Egyptian," you said.

"Shit," Ahk muttered. "It would taste so good, though."

"Is it sweet?"

"Well, it is used in desserts," he said with a shrug.

"That is good for me. We can – uhh, we can go to a spice shop, and we can, or you can, find it," you suggested, and repeated it to Tiamat, who nodded with a brightening smile.

"Good idea," she said.

The three of you set off quickly with Tiamat leading the way, as she knew the city best after the years she'd been living within its walls. Bustling chatter filled the streets, accompanied by shuffling feet, wooden wheels, and the jarring calls of sheep and goats. Bells sometimes rung as merchants shouted out their wares, and you ducked beneath their raised arms, giggling as you followed Tiamat, while Ahkmen trailed close behind, almost always reaching out for your hand.

Tiamat was a good deal taller and buffer than you, reaching Ahkmen's height and surpassing his strength, so she was stopped by large crowds that suddenly crossed your path. You panted as you caught up to her long-striding legs, followed by Ahk also appearing and panting.

"Since the drought, a lot of our trade lines have been cut... of course, the Kassite takeover didn't help, so we've only got a couple spice shops left," Tiamat told you as she tried to look over the moving heads of the crowd. "I think most of it is grown in the King's garden now, actually."

"That is good," you said, positing it was better than nothing.

"Yes, but... I do miss cinnamon," she said with a chuckle.

You relayed what she said––minus the cinnamon––to Ahkmen as you waited for the people, who were dragging along a group of goats, to pass by.

"That ought to make our search easier," Ahk said, and no sooner had he'd finished the phrase than he was being pulled on again, your left hand clasping his and your right held by Tiamat.

Frequent turns led you from the northern-most side of the city and into the south, where the streets were less disorganized than they had been. You tried to stop Tiamat several times to look at some of the cuisine and textiles within the scattered markets, but to Ahk's relief she didn't notice you, and kept on her quick-footed pace headed for the spices.

Both you and Ahk fell into heavy pants as Tiamat finally drew to a stop in front of a large, clay storage house, staring up at the symbol carved above the entrance. Through the archway you could spy a few people moving about amongst the massive pots and jars of sandy colors.

When Tiamat made to enter, the two of you followed gingerly, looking like twins with your hands curled in front of your chests to avoid touching anything. You scanned the room as a whole before your eyes fell to one of the merchants, wrapped up in white desert attire and a large turban set on his head. He was speaking quietly to another man, so you ignored him for the time being, and returned your attention to Ahkmen.

"What is the spice you did name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Cardamom," he repeated. "It's just kind of... vaguely brown. Like split wheat."

"That is a good help," you said flatly, looking at the pyramid-like structures of spice nearly overflowing out of the tall clay vases, most of which could qualify as 'vaguely brown'.

"Cardamom," Tiamat tried the word, rolling the word unnecessarily. She turned to you and said in Akkadian, "it's a strange word, isn't it?"

"A little," you agreed with a giggle.

You and Tiamat watched as Ahk sniffed each spice individually, often having to bend down to get a full whiff of the scent. Each time he did so, he wrinkled up his nose, stepping away with a frown.

"Is it bad?" You asked on the first time he did this.

"No, it's just really strong," he said.

That was his continuing excuse for doing it at least ten more times throughout the 15 presented jugs. By the end of it, you were no closer to knowing cardamom's Akkadian name, much less actually having any cardamom.

He backed away from the jars with a frown, crossing his arms as he scanned over all of them once more.

"Nothing," he said.

"How may I help you?" Someone behind you asked, and all three of you turned to see the shopkeeper––the darkskinned merchant who wore a turban. He spoke in Akkadian, but he had an accent, one only Tiamat could pick up on.

"We're looking for a specific spice, but we only know the name in Egyptian," Tiamat said, gesturing vaguely in Ahk's direction.

"Alright," he said with a heavy brow, glancing between you. "What is it?"

You nudged Ahk and he said, "cardamom."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, "qaqullu."

Tiamat asked for him to say it again, but she didn't know the spice, and reported so with a confused look.

"I wouldn't expect ye' to, it's off from Kuru in the east," he said, gesturing out the door with a hand holding round bottle. "Route's been cut, so I haven-been able to get it."

Before you could do it, and to your immense surprise, the merchant repeated what he'd said to Ahkmen in Egyptian. Ahk had a similar look of surprise on his face.

"Do you know of any place that might have it?" Ahk asked with wide eyes. He almost didn't notice the way you grinned toothily up at him.

"You are so intense," you whispered to him.

"How do you even know that word? You asked me what soup meant just yesterday –"

"The King's garden, probably," the merchant interrupted. "But it would cost much."

"That's not a problem," Ahk said before Tiamat could respond.

The three of you bid a hasty thanks and good-bye to the merchant, who gave you an odd look as you raced out of the shop. Crowds had only grown more thick during your time indoors, meaning you could barely see past the moving bodies, and had to rely on Ahk and Tiamat for where you were supposed to go.

Tiamat led the way once more, winding back through the streets from the way you came. According to her, the King's palace was somewhat near to the center, but the gardens were held closer to the largest temple, which marked the exact center of the city. Ahkmen spied through the tall buildings a stretching tower, reaching into the sky in white stone and dark, green leaves. The closer you got, it became easier to realize that the garden resided in a massive temple complex that took up nearly half of the city dwelling on the western bank.

You stopped at a large bridge hanging over the wide Euphrates that split the city down the middle, staring at the sheer size of the rushing water compared to the thin stretches you and Ahk had travelled down. Travellers and chariots marched down the large brick street, wooden wheels pulled by strange creatures you'd never seen before. Most chariots carried one or two passengers, as well as a carriage for goods, such as food, stone, and cloth. A couple carried massive bushels of reeds. On either side of the bridge were familiar statues––the lions with the heads of men, of which you'd learned earlier were titled Lamassu. Soldiers with spears and sheathed swords stood at their sides.

The frequency of soldiers and guards increased as you approached the walls surrounding the temple of Marduk, whose name you only knew after extended conversations with both Tiamat and Zakiti. Ahkmen wasn't aware of the name, but that didn't stop him staring at the temple's might, six terraces building the material of humans into the unearthly heavens.

However, the temple ended up not being your final destination. Tiamat led you past the tower and to the south, running down a wide street that led directly to one of the city's outer walls. Once you stood at the wall's base, she took a sharp turn to the left, and took you to one of the city's entrances across the moat of water.

Across he bridge lay farms and smaller houses, as well as another wall––though much smaller––that had been built to fortify the growing city. The sun shined a bright white overhead, allowing the dewdrops on trees to shine and glitter across the small, town-like reaches.

"There," said Tiamat, pointing out to a shaded area protecting rows of plants. Some of them had tarps set out above them, but others had more permanent shade, effectively hiding a good number of rows from view.

Ahk squinted in the bright sun to try and make out the different types of plants growing there.

"Are we allowed to actually go into the garden?" Ahk asked, a question you relayed to Tiamat.

"I've never been," she said, and began forward across the bridge. "So I'm not actually sure."

You translated the general idea again.

"Well, I've run this much now," Ahk said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Ought not to give up now."

The overbearing scent of mixed spices was quick to hit you, and the three of you slowed down as your noses burned. A few people were standing outside an open archway, the darkness inside containing several more people, and barrels worth of spices. To the left of that the growing continued in shadow, while sunloving plants enjoyed the last light of the day.

Ahkmen accidentally met the eyes of one of the people flanking the entrance, causing his gaze to shoot back down to the ground. The doorway, like many in Egypt, was raised partway off the ground to avoid tracking dust and sand into the building. He stepped over the frame, and stood blindly while his eyes adjusted to the major change in light. His squinting was disturbed when you bumped into him, muttering some sort of apology before you pressed your side to his, scanning the quiet room with a look of near menace.

Tiamat appeared to be in a similar state of apprehension, scanning the room in hopes of finding out whether or not you were allowed to be in there at all. You and Ahk hadn't noticed, but the symbol of the King was carved clearly above the small house, and those who stood nearby were dressed in deep colors of red, purple, and green––a stark difference from the farmers who dwelled in much simpler homes outside.

Your awkward glances eventually caught the eye of a much older man, whose beard curled magnificently between robes of green and silver silk. His dark, bushy brow furrowed as his eyes fell specifically to you––a sort of anger, or perhaps confusion, overtook his curiosity and he stepped forward.

"My name is Sagar," the man said, taking your hand and bowing his head slightly. You stiffened, and Ahk quickly came over to your side, wrapping an arm around the back of your waist.

"Hello, I, uh – I am here with my friends," you replied in Akkadian, joined soon on the other side by Tiamat.

Compared to you and Ahk, Tiamat looked a great deal older as well––neither of you had gotten the chance to ask her age, but considering you were about as short as a 10 year old, and Ahk was twiggy as a 12 year old, it created a considerable difference. You assumed this was why Sagar very suddenly averted his attention to Tiamat, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Like you, Tiamat grimaced, her shoulders tightening.

"How may I help you?" Sagar asked, his voice low and weathered against your softer ones. Tiamat stuttered before she found an answer.

"We are looking for a spice, qaqullu," she said slowly.

"You must be a woman of noble bearings," he said with a smile.

"Well –"

"No," you answered for her. "But he is."

You pointed to Ahk with your thumb, who shot you an offended look before he confronted Sagar.

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk said, easily recalling the only phrase he knew in Akkadian.

Sagar looked him up and down, almost hesitant to speak.

"Egyptian?" He asked.

You nodded, somewhat impressed considering Ahk was trying to wear more Babylonian clothes, but Ahkmen just looked unsettled, shifting his weight between his feet.

"I've been helping them look for cardamom for their beer," Ahk explained quietly.

"If you have the means to pay for it, the King does have seeds. The price has gone up, though," he added, "due to some... outer pressures."

"You mean the trade network?" Ahk asked, kinking a single brow.

"I'm afraid so. It'll be several gold bands or sacks of grain."

Several?? Ahk's eyes bulged as he heard the price. While he was regaining his words, his mouth fallen open, Sagar translated the sentence back into Akkadian for Tiamat.

"Mother of Gods," Tiamat blurted out. "We'll, uh – we'll be right back."

She herded the two of you out the door––which wasn't a very hard task––and took you round the corner so the doorway was no longer visible.

"I don't think I have that much grain and I certainly don't have that much gold," she said quickly, her eyes flickering between you and Ahk despite the fact that he couldn't understand her.

"We have many gold," you said, retaining most of your optimism easily.

"Okay, wait, we don't have that much gold," Ahk said as soon as he vaguely translated what you said. He turned to you and continued, "we still need to get through Elam and into Harappa. And we'll still need a lot of money once we get there so we don't starve after, like, three days of being in the city."

"Hmm..." you hummed quietly, your brow knotted together as you picked at the skin on your chin.

The two of them waited for you while you thought deeply, staring at the ground.

"We can steal," you suggested after a moment of silence.

"Again??"

"You say it all the time, that it is fun to steal, and from Kings," you said rather loudly, causing Ahk to shoot forward and silence you with a hand held tight over your mouth, simultaneously pushing you against the nearest wall.

"That man in there knew Egyptian, and I'm pretty sure he works for the King," he said quietly.

You stared at each other, iron in your gaze and steel in his.

"What is happening right now?" Tiamat asked, and at that point you recalled that, once more, you were not alone. Ahk had a similar reaction, backing up as his hands zipped behind his back.

You explained the short conversation to her, at which point she nodded with much the same expression as Ahk's when he thought deeply.

"What's the King like?" Ahk asked, knowing little more of the man other than his name. You translated.

"His name is Gidar," she began, allowing you to translate each sentence before she continued. "He is quiet, keeps to himself. He has funded building and farming projects, though, and he upholds the law, so no one really bothers him."

"Are his punishments violent?"

That one took you a little longer to figure out––you didn't know the Akkadian word for 'violent' or 'punishments,' so instead you said something more along the lines of 'does he kill or hurt people who do bad'.

"Like stealing?" She asked.

"Sure," you said with a shrug.

"He will cut off your hands and kill you."

"... oh," you mumbled, grimacing as you turned to Ahk and translated.

"Well, then we better not get caught," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

You glanced to Tiamat with an odd look.

"I do not think that is something we can ask her to do," you whispered, leaning into Ahk.

"Probably not," he said after a moment's thought. "Tell her to go back to the brewery. We'll be back there soon, I think."

"Today?" You asked, your eyes wide.

"Tonight," he nodded.

Late afternoon, and the warm, fiery colors it brought sunk into the horizon, and the stars chased after that light, appearing easily in the sky surrounding a simpler town than the centers of Karanduniash. Only small torches burnt outside the main walls, usually hung by entrances to the clay huts built up from the earth. Some houses were illuminated brightly by fire places, casting squares of light onto the ground from windows, but many were climbing up onto their roofs with rugs and blankets.

You watched the evening progress from a spot near the King's spice garden which, now that you'd stared at it for a couple hours, looked incredibly inconspicuous for such a rich store. An alleyway hid you from sight of the caretakers inside the garden, and a silver earring from Ahk allowed you a hearty, thick stew, steaming with warmth in your bowls.

With a grin you clinked your wooden bowls together before raising it up, forgoing your spoon in favor of slurping the soup. He chuckled, matching your behavior as he glanced past your shoulder, to the garden, and then ultimately to one of the nearby houses in his line of sight.

More people up on the roof––smoke billowed into the air, long shadows and brightly lit faces indicated the bonfire now burning on the rooftop. A couple louder shouts, though still not loud enough for him to understand, and laughter came from there. Ahk recalled with jarring suddenness nights spent on his friend's roof's, cooking fish and warming beer over flames. Fireflies sometimes drifted through the streets below, but what always stood above were looming palm trees, silhouetted against the evening sky rife with stars.

All he could see of the stars was through the thin gap between the houses where you now sat, as anything outside of looking directly up was fuzzed by torchlight. At least the scent of stew still tempted him; he turned his direction back to his food and felt considerably better after finishing.

"I think we take hot stew for granted," he said after a full minute of staring at his empty bowl.

"It is hard to make when we move," you said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes, you... you need spices, and – and wheat, or barley, or it will be hot fish water," you said in complete seriousness, looking up to him with a critically thinking eye that sent him into laughter.

"Hot fish water??" He repeated, a wide, sweet smile across his face that had you blushing.

"That is what that is!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "keep quiet, my dear."

"I am not your deer," you said flatly, and returned to the last of your stew.

His heart beat painfully, warmth following that pulsing depth. His smile fell, as well, as imagination––and longing––seized him, and he very nearly pulled you into his lap. Instead he dug his nails into his palm, and proceeded to thoroughly imagine the entire scenario, were he not a coward.

He would take your hands and pull you in. You would follow without hesitation, slotting your knees on either side of his hips, and resting yourself on his thighs. Then you'd ask why he did this, and he would say something suave––something like 'just wanted to see you better'. He'd raise his hand and push the hair out of your face to see your dark, inky eyes, and the red mark above your brow. And he would ask–

"How did you get that mark on your forehead?"

You paused your eating and Ahk stiffened, realizing he just spoke aloud his thoughts.

"My parents did give it to me," you said quietly as you set your now-empty bowl aside. "It was... on my mother, not there forever. It – it came off, but they did want me to always have my third eye open. And they hit it in with sindoor."

"Sindoor?"

"It is from Harappa, I think... I do.. I remember that, in that time, I was in stone homes, with flags of red and gold, and the food.. was very sweet. I think that it is Harappa, what I remember," you said, slowly coming to terms with your own memories.

"You remember your time there?" Ahk asked, raising his brow.

"Only a little," you said with a shrug. "But the mark is where everything is made, by Gods, by us. It is..," you sighed deeply, "I do not know how to say it in Egyptian."

"Oh," he said. His knees pulled ever so slightly closer to his chest, scraping his sandals on the rough gravel. "Can you draw it?"

"... maybe?"

You moved to your knees, searching your immediate surroundings for a stick or rock.

The stick dragged through the loose dirt, forming shapes that soom became ideas––one triangle to represent bread, beside two, and then a blank, empty space you circled.

"It is... nothing. It is when you have no bread, that is a number too," you said, watching Ahk carefully to guage if he fully understood. "Because the life does not.. fully live, without our math."

"The absence of something isn't a number," Ahk said with a frown, his intense gaze switching from the image to you.

"I do not know," you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "It is only what my parents did say."

The stray expression on your face was solidified with wandering eyes, trailing off to the side of the alley wall. Ahk was still in a state of stupefaction, staring at your features––the curl of your lashes, or the warmth of your lips, whose mirage always found his cheek in dreams and fantasies.

Before he knew it he was leaning forward, at last reaching out for you, fingers numb with nervousness scraping against the earth. You still wouldn't look to him, but he continued, thoughtlessly, to creep closer, his hand hovering close enough to your waist to feel your heat.

"The man is leaving," you whispered, the words acting like ice over Ahkmen's brain.

He quickly withdrew, clearing his throat and tracing your eyeline back to the King's garden. There was, in fact, a silhouette of a man leaving the garden hut, settling a tarp over the door and its' symbol before he disappeared from view.

"Give it a few minutes," he muttered back, his eyes set dead upon the disappearing figure. "He might come back."

Ahkmen sat back down on his butt, the pebbles beneath him scratching as he adjusted himself against the wall. You glanced to him for a moment, offering a small smile when you saw his furrowed brow, lessening his anxiety if only minutely.

The two of you talked quietly for a little while longer, keeping up your cover as vagrant friends, until Ahk was assured the guard wouldn't be returning. He kept a continuous eye on the garden, and was quick to move to his feet after he decided it was safe. Your hand slipped into his without him asking, a grip he solidified as you jogged, looking up and down the street you crossed.

No one.

The flap the man set over the doorway was a meek form of protection, and was easily bypassed with nothing more than your hands. It rippled behind you as you entered, but soon fell silent, hiding you and Ahk from view of the street.

Inside the garden's storeroom was even darker than the night outside––the flap blocked out the light of torches, and a ceiling concealed the sky. You squinted as you tried to see, eventually making out the shaky forms of closed caskets and containers. Most of them had lids made of pottery, but some had nets wrapped around the high necks, secured tightly into place with complex knots.

"You must see for it," you whispered to him. "I do not know the smell, or the look."

"I don't really know how it looks either, I'll be honest with you," he said. "I've only ever seen it fully processed in one of the kitchens."

"Why did you not say that?!" You hissed.

"I didn't think it would be a problem!" He whispered harshly.

"You –" you sucked in a breath, "– you find the thing, I will go see that we are not found."

"Yes, dear," he said in a drawling tone he had used many times for those two words.

Before he knew it his back was slammed against a wall, sending pain shooting up his spine and into his cranium. He nearly let out a pained cry, but your hand zipped up to cover his mouth, your other arm keeping his chest pinned to the wall. He stared wide-eyed down at you, shocked at the force you so easily used.

Your fingers over his lips.

Your hand on his chest.

Your leg slotted between his.

His cheeks were set ablaze.

"You do not get the bad part of the times in Egypt, when you did steal and make fun with guards," you said, glowering up at him. "But this is not a place where you are rich. You can not pay for innocence. Not here. And this price is death if we are seen, like it is always for me, in Egypt and Babylon."

He gulped down the knot in his throat, only breathing when you gently pulled away. You still glared at him, but it was less intense, and you put more distance between you.

"Do see the cardmoms," you mumbled before you left.

The flap settling back into place was the last sound he heard from you, your fabric shoes allowing you to pad quietly away without making any noise. An intense, overpowering silence followed, darkened hands rubbing it like lavender upon his skin, familiar and uncomfortable.

He spent the following hour or two searching through the assorted jars, carefully raising up mud lids or untying thick rope. Many of the spices were ones he'd tried before––some reminding him of Egypt and others bringing memories of the few countries he travelled to during his time as Prince. Now he was stealing not just for fun, but because he had to. He couldn't afford what he was taking.

Cardamom, who carried a sweet, fruity scent, ended up being at the opposite end of the room, making it one of the last he inspected. Its' scent was also incredibly distinct, and the moment he found it he knew most certainly it was cardamom. He grinned.

It wasn't the seeds, either––it was the actual powdered spice, meaning it was already ready to put in the beer. But there was very little of it, the whole of the container being around the size of his head.

He sighed almost wearily, leaning sideways against the wall.

If you were still here, he could've apologized, and you'd both probably be gone by now. As he phased out at the thought of you, he mindlessly stroked the clay pot.

Approaching footsteps broke his trance. His eyes shot up, automatically tucking the cardamom into his clothes and running off into the night garden, in which the medicinal herbs were grown. He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing acutely that he was now ankle deep in wet earth, though fortunately, in-between the rows instead of on them.

The tarp at the garden's entrance flapped again as the stranger entered. There was little protecting him from being discovered now, and he fled off to the sun garden, careful to not slosh his feet in the mud. It was then, when mud had splattered up to his calf, that he remembered his leather shoes were still inside the storeroom, waiting to be discovered.

Thoughts flew wildly around his head, his quick-thinking talents melting away into timed panic. Wide eyes flickered from the archway between the shadow garden and the storeroom, and then to the arch leading into the sun garden, then back to the stranger, who pivoted on their heel.

He fled into the next room the moment the steps even hinted of growing louder, pressing his back against the opposite wall, his chest heaving up and down.

Again his frantic eyes searched the room for anything that might aid his escape. Tarps were stretched taut between wooden poles, blocking access to the outside, but allowing sunlight to stream in. He looked up and realized with sickness that the only way out was up.

Digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek, he tied fabric around the clay pot, ensuring it wouldn't fall from his grasp. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself mentally before he jumped up and grasped the top of the pole with his fingers.

Steps continued to get closer, now treading through the silted earth and sparking a dreadful terror that shivered down his neck in much the way it had when you slammed him against the wall. He scrambled up, his bare feet digging into the splintered pole before he threw himself over the other edge of the tarp. A loud thud came from him as he fell on his back––once more injuring it––bringing from him a pained groan.

Footsteps grew even closer, marking the sign of running feet that had Ahk clambering to his legs, cradling the cardamom to his chest as he ran. Bits of gravel and hay dug into his bare feet, bringing with them sharp pains that had Ahk convinced he was bleeding. When he looked behind himself, however, he found no trail, and slowed his sprint as he crossed the gate into the main city.

Deep breaths wracked his chest and he collapsed partways, leaning the weight of his upper body on his knees, fingers splayed out on the heated skin. He quickly looked behind him to be sure, and after finding nothing continued on into the city. It would take a while before he reached the brewery.

He paused in an alleyway for a short few minutes, checking the state of his heel and finding it alright. Reddened and dry, but unpunctured, despite the pain being sent through his muscles. With a sigh he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a nightmare.

He could not pull his thoughts from the image of you angry, blazing with an inequality that had clearly been irritating you for a while. Even with his lie he alienated himself from you.

You would forgive him, but not for the reasons Ahkmen wanted you to. You'd forgive him because you had to, because the only other option was fending for yourself through another country and a half until you got to Harappa, where even there safety wasn't assured. But you wouldn't forgive him because you loved him, or because you knew he could do better. Horrible guilt flared in his chest, turning to bile in the back of his throat.

Whether or not you intended this reaction, it was there nonetheless, and Ahkmen did his best to force it down with logic. It wasn't a big deal. He could do better. And, he supposed, he got the cardamom, so that had to count for something.

His hands were still wrapped around the pot discreetly when he entered the vacant city plaza, heading quickly down the steps into the brewery. From the entrance he could hear the soft sounds of burning fire, and when he pulled away the door he noticed immediately warm light and soft voices, stirring with a mixer that clunked gently against the side of the cauldron.

The two of you went quiet when Tiamat noticed Ahk standing awkwardly at the doorway. He glanced between you before reaching into his clothes, pulling out the cask of cardamom so highly coveted in the last couple hours.

Tiamat gasped, a wide grin instantly spreading across her face. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"You did get it?" You asked, stepping around the boiling pot to stand in front of Ahk.

"Yeah," he said, still reeling from his escape. "Almost got caught. I had to jump over the tarps 'round the sun garden."

"Jump??" You asked.

"Well – more vaulting over them," he said. That didn't clear it up at all, but you were grateful anyways.

He sat in the corner of the limestone room, watching you and Tiamat mix a handful of the spice in the large cauldron, and testing the scent as you stirred. You continued to talk in hushed whispers of Akkadian, your shadows casted long against the low fire. Sleepiness was already beginning to take over him, leaning his head back against the cool wall, and letting his eyes slip shut.

When he came to, Tiamat had gone, and you were left alone to tend to your beer. You still stood atop a box that lifted you up to look over the jug, slowly stirring the thick mixture. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the strands of your hair that fell in front of your eyes casted shadows on your cheeks and brow.

After a yawn and a stretch, he lifted himself to stand, and shuffled over to your side.

"I'm sorry for endangering you," he said quietly, hesitant to look and even more hesitant to touch.

"I do not know that word," you said without looking up.

"Putting you in a place where you might get hurt."

"Oh," you glanced up to him, but didn't linger before you returned to the vat. "It is okay. I know you do not know very much better."

"It's not really okay, I should've thought beyond my own nose."

"A little," you agreed before falling silent.

After a minute he asked, "is there a way I can make it up to you?"

"You had the cardamom, that is good," you chuckled. "But you almost got caught?"

"Ah, that," he said with a long sigh that made you giggle again.

He recited to you the events of the evening that progressed after you left. He conveniently left out a few details––such as almost crying because he'd upset you––but included how he'd injured himself, how the garden official was hot on his trail, and how he accidentally left his shoes in the storeroom. You nodded along.

A beat of silence passed after his story ended, broken only by the bubbling of beer.

"You are filthy," you said.

"Thanks," he said with a frown.

You set a lid over the cask, feeding the fire only a little more before you stepped down from the pedestal.

"I know where we must go," you said, stopping in front of him to look up and meet his eye.

"To bed?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

His heated skin finally calmed down enough to feel a cool breeze as you led him out of the brewery, and back into the empty town center. For a few minutes you walked in silence, and every now and then you'd turn down a street, directions he thoughtlessly followed.

The scent of water hit him before he saw it, and soon the brick path led out to a crystal-white terrace, holding descending steps on either side of the raised platform. Below sloshed the inky waters of the canal, reflecting his warped features. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was halted when you took his hand, gently pulling him down the glazed brick steps. Their tops were white, and the rims beneath carried a familiar shade of blue.

Olive-colored trees grew on the riverside, barely reaching any taller than the platform that now stood proud above him. Only a single other person was there––a bald man drifting on a skiff at the other bank of the river. He was easy to ignore, which you did gladly, and continued to pull Ahk to the riverside.

"You have dirt," you said, scanning him up and down. "And here is where you do clean your body. This is your forever. No more of the home baths, and your smelly things."

"You mean my lavender?"

"Etuvaka. You know what I say," you said with a stern look.

"I know," he said quietly, sitting on the ledge of the stone dock with his feet swinging in the water.

You took a seat beside him, slipping off your shoes and rolling up your pants before you dipped your legs in beside his.

"How are your feet?" You asked.

"Alright," he said as he massaged the bottoms of them. "I thought they were bleeding, but they aren't, so I must be alright."

"Take your clothe off," you said, suddenly moving up to your knees and scooting behind his back.

He chuckled but undid the tie around his waist, pulling the green shawl off his shoulders. It fell easy to the crook of his elbow, and you tugged it down further, eventually pulling the fabric out from being tucked into his skirt, and tossing it aside to the marble floor.

"You have... color," you said quietly after a moment of just staring at his back.

"Sort of dark? Like dirt?" He asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at you, but settling for staring at the wall beside him.

"A little," you said.

Your fingers touched the top of his spine, trailing down the bumps and ridges showing prominently through the skin of a man overworked and weary. When you pressed harder, even slightly, he hissed and jerked away.

"Careful there," he said, clearing his throat to mask his whimper.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Ahk continued to wash his feet and legs free of the mud while you stayed knelt behind him, your touch brushing against him every so often. He finished rather quickly, but enjoyed your hesitant fingers so greatly that he pretended to keep washing himself, hoping to feel you at his back and shoulders again.

"You are Shu fully equipped," you began to murmur, your palms settling on his shoulders and digging softly into the skin. "You have not been taken to the God's place of execution, for you are covered with the kenu-garment. You were not made to enter into the God's place of execution, for you are the Great One, baboon-shaped; you have not entered into the God's place of execution, the knife has no power over you."

He sat in silence for another moment, his mouth hanging subconsciously open.

"That was... perfect Egyptian," he turned around, dragging water on his leg, "where did you learn that?"

"My time in your class, in Memphis, was not for nothing," you said with a giggle, as though it was inconsequential, as though you were normal. "It is one of your spells, for being killed by a King. It is best, because that is your crime."

He could do nothing but stare, confounded.

"I could fall in love with you," he blurted out, watching with dread as your expression fell.

You pursed your lips softly, your gaze falling to the river behind him. To his credit, he hadn't given everything away, though by the look on your face he might as well have.

"I am not a person that people fall in love with," you said quietly.

[prose-for-hire]

Wish upon a (dead) star

Pairing: Willow x fem!reader; Vamp!Willow x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Can you please write a Willow x female reader story where in Dopplegangland its revealed that wishverse!Willow is dating wishverse!reader (either by the wishverse reader showing up too or just by vampire Willow mentioning it) and it makes Willow and the reader realize they like girls, specifically each other? I know you’re working on a lot so take as much time as you need if you decide to do it 😃

Requested by: Anonymous

Warning: There is a brief part where it switches to reader being the vampire - blood mention. Violence.

A/N: I loved this request like absolutely LOVED it. I know you said take your time, but I’m still sorry this took so long !! 💖

You had never really thought much about your sexuality. It just wasn’t something that had ever made you question anything. Not until that day.

It was nearing Summer, the grass was being mowed outside and you could smell the very faint aroma of bleach. The janitor was cleaning some poor students remains from the halls again. It smelled distinctly of the summer arriving in Sunnydale.

You looked outside, it appeared like a normal day. The light breeze making the branches cast pretty shadows against the window pane. The sky was clear, a beautiful blue that made your heart feel lighter. Like you could begin to relax. The demons often started to slack off around this time of year too – might the shorter nights. Doesn’t really give them much chance for evil plots.

The bell rang and you slid all of your books back into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. It was the end of the day and everyone was filtering through the exits. But, rather than soaking up the sun you had plans.

You would be trapped in hell. Or, above hell’s mouth anyway. In the Sunnydale library. The weather was hot but the temperature in the library was sweltering. The AC didn’t appear to be working and everyone was sweaty and angry looking. You hadn’t arrived yet, you were taking the long route along the corridors. Soaking up the sun in a wholly unnecessary walk of the school grounds before you made your way to whittle some research books down or read an inscription on a stake or something.

You took a sharp turn, passing the janitor’s closet.

You heard something. Struggling. You frowned, but still pushed on the door, revealing Willow. Wiping her mouth after draining the janitor. You made a sharp intake of breath, rooted to the spot.

You became encased in her eye. Her lips curled into a devilish smile as she took in your entire form. You felt naked under her gaze. As if she had claimed you and explored every part of you before now (and yet still always wanted more).

She smiled at you although it came out as a grimace. Vampire. She was a vampire. Her eyes had been dark, almost blackened but when she saw you her face lit up a little in recognition. Her mate.

She tugged your arm into the closet, there was blood running down the side of her face.

“My girl” She purred into your ear, nipping at it as she always did. Your eyes widened you became dizzy from those words. Suddenly putty in her hands. She was used to this though.

She met your lips hungrily, crashing into you. Her need translated so easily against your lips. The way she easily slid her tongue into your mouth. Tasting you. Telling you that even your mouth was hers. She pressed you flush against her body. Her hand snaking up and weaving into your hair, pulling you in further. Her lips urgent, a passion that would never die.

She was in every sense of yours. You could feel her so intimately. Smell that distinct Willow smell. Even the lingering metallic taste on her tongue drew you in…

With that thought, you pull away suddenly, having been caught up in the moment for longer than anyone that had been so convinced they were straight could get away with.

“Willow! What’re you doing?!” You shouted; your eyes as big as dinner plates. She pouted at your words, disappointed. Eyes still scanning your form.

“Aw no, you’re wrong too... We’ll have to fix that” She nodded, her smile turning into the grimace again. Her face shifted. Forehead ridged and unforgiving, fangs protruding from her mouth painfully. You screamed and backed away, just shy of her grasp.

You turned and ran as fast as you could. Sweating out pure adrenaline as you quickened your pace. Making sure she wasn’t on your heels. You skidded into the library, screaming that Willow’s dead. That she was a vampire and… managing to not mention that you could still feel her lips on yours.

As you were shouting this, your Willow listened before stepping into your vision properly. In a different outfit, one that was more her. Relief washed over you and you didn’t think twice. You just launched yourself at her. Wrapping your arms around her and nearly scooping her off her feet.

“I was so scared I lost you” You whispered in her ear from your place by her ear.

“You always have me!” She insisted with a little whispered giggle that made your heart skip a beat.

You were so pleased that she was okay. That she wasn’t hurt. It meant so much to you. As you released her from the hug you had both been wrapped up in happily, something dawned on you. Realisation struck.

It hit you in the gut. This sudden thought you couldn’t escape. You liked that feeling. Any feeling so long as it was with her. Kissing Willow had felt so real. It made you feel alive, despite the fact that your dead friend had helped you discover this. You desperately wanted to be back with her lips on yours.

You liked women. You were in love with women. Well, a woman.

Just as you had this thought, Evil Willow appeared trying to attack you. Or… kiss you. You weren’t entirely sure which. You and Willow backed away and tried to hide. But she kicked you to the floor, taking your by the throat. Willow screamed and the vampire turned and scanned her eyes over her other self. She really was disappointed in the outfit.

As she paused, you grabbed a cross from the counter and thrust it in her face making her hiss and recoil from it. With this, Giles took his chance and hit her over the head. Sending vampire willow to the ground. Passed out. You helped Giles drag her over to the cage and lock her in.

Willow would have helped but she was still recovering from her vampire self trying to kill her. You sat beside her on the step as she recovered, sliding a hand around her shoulders. You rubbed her upper arm soothingly.

She turned to face you and your faces were so close. Your nose touched hers and you could feel her breath warm on your face. You wished to lean in further and caress her lips with your own. A much sweeter kiss than you had shared with her vampire counterpart.

Her eyes lowered to your mouth and you thought this could truly be happening. That she was about to kiss you. But instead she reached with her hand for the side of your face.

“Oh, uh, you have some…” Willow reached and wiped the corner of your mouth, “...lipstick”

You became so caught in the gesture you barely heard her words. Her skin against your mouth, that soft touch. You closed your eyes slowly, savouring the feeling.

That was, until you comprehended why she was doing it. Your eyes widened. You hadn’t been wearing any lipstick. It had been… the other Willow.

You moved backwards at her words, sliding from her touch. You opened your mouth to try and make some kind of excuse that she had never even asked for but you were luckily interrupted.

At this moment, Xander and Buffy ran in. They had retreated from from the Bronze after what they had seen. They had come back for reinforcements and to break the horrible news.

“Y/n’s dead!” Buffy shouted, her voice desperately sad. The tone in mourning.

“We tried to help but she’s a vamp-” Xander said, looking at the ground in horror at what he had witnessed. You had been turned and you definitely weren’t a carebear with fangs either.

“Guys… it’s okay, I’m here”

“Not now, Y/n, we’re talking about-”

Everyone’s eyes brightened and Buffy and Xander took it in turns to hug you tight. You had never been more grateful to have such caring friends.

Giles filled them in on what he suspected had happened and that they should either make sure they got back to their dimension or Buffy needed to slay them. You and willow glanced at each other uneasily, you weren’t so sure if you could watch them die. Even if you knew you probably weren’t going to get on with your vampire self.

“Well, dead-and-not-yet-buried has demands”

“What?”

“She wants a spell, to return her to her dimension and… Willow-”

“-Or she starts snackin’ on the Bronze… and we’re not talking buffalo wings here”

��Well, ah, that may be difficult as she is currently out cold on the floor over there” Giles gestured with his head as Xander and Buffy turned to look. There she was, another copy of Willow. It was so spooky.

Eventually, a plan was made. You had argued against it but became outnumbered. The plan was, Willow would dress up as the one vampire you wanted and hopefully convince her to leave the Bronze alone.

You worried - you didn’t want Willow to be harmed. You had seen what her counterpart was like you could only imagine what the vampire version of you would be like. You shivered at the thought.

“Please… be safe” You asked, your fingers trailing against the skin on her arm. You were trying not to scan her body in her new outfit. You wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, she was already feeling strange. She insisted she would be fine and everyone else headed out. Leaving you in the library.

You were pacing as Willow tried to convince vampire you that she was also a vampire. You were scared for her safety. This revelation had come at a time where you needed to be with her, to explore your feelings. But instead you were thinking about her even more. Because you could lose her in every sense if she made one wrong move. You tried to distract yourself but it was no use.

You wondered what it could possibly feel like to be that way. A vampire…

You were there, in the Bronze surrounded by terrified humans. You were holding them hostage with the help of an ex-vengeance demon and some minions you had picked up on your travels. You wanted a spell to take you back to your dimension but only so long as you were reunited with her.

And then there she was. Finally, your love had been returned to you. You smirked at Willow hoping she would be pleased with you for the way you never stopped looking for her.

She walked towards you and you couldn’t help drinking in her form. Wishing to take her as yours. Right there. You adored her so. If you could breathe, she would have knocked the breath from your body.

You were so busy enjoying her walking up to you that you couldn’t sense that she was human. You pulled her into you and crashed your lips to hers. The usual greeting. She hesitated for a fraction of a second but then she kissed back just the way she always would. You smirked into the kiss until she was ripped from your arms again.

You hated being separated from her. You turned, snarling at the human that dared interrupt such feeling. It stirred the dead heart in your chest.

“She’s human! Look at her!” Anya insisted, pointing accusingly.

“Would a human be able to do this?” Willow panicked immediately and asked this before screaming as loud as she could. To which everyone replied yes.

“You’re not my girlfriend! You are some cheap imitation!” You seethed, glaring. Burning holes into this human. You wanted your lover to return.

“What happened to you?! With the creeping and the threatening and the grr…?” Willow asked, making claws with her hands as she said the last part. It made you tilt your head to scan her face. It really was strange that this sweet human could be your mate. She had too much goodness in her.

You wished to scare her. You grabbed the nearest human and took a bite, savouring every drop and wiping your mouth with your hands. This just served to smear more blood around your face.

“When you wish upon a dead star, your nightmares come true” You smirked, blood still leaking from the corners of your mouth as her face paled at the way you held enjoyment in the fear all around.

Luckily for Willow, her scream had raised the alarm and Buffy, Xander and Angel came as soon as they could. There was a brutal fight where most of the vampires were dusted.

Willow held a stake to your unbeating heart but she just couldn’t do it. They would have to capture you as well. Allow you to be reunited with your Willow and take you back to the wishverse.

You (the real you) and your friends were staring into the cage. Willow and the others had brought back… you. Well, you if you were evil. Also, it appeared that your fashion sense had died with you.

Both vampire Willow and you were now locked safely in the cage in the library. Just long enough for Giles to recite what was needed to send them back to their dimension.

They came to and smirked at each other. Faces contorted in a way that you weren’t even sure you could match despite her being you. They recognised that it was the other’s mate (the real ones) and they instantly pulled each other close. Lips crashing against each other, the kiss deepening so much everybody felt as if they needed some kind of privacy.

“I think… I’m kinda… a lot gay.” You said, eyes widening as vampire you started to stick her tongue down Willow’s throat.

“Me too” the Willow that was stood beside you nodded. Her voice just above a whisper.

Evil Willow moved a fraction to look at their doubles through the bar. She looked between you and your Willow and rolled her eyes, muttering something close to ‘bored now’. As if it was so obvious that you both liked women.

That was before she grasped vampire you into another obscene kiss that you and Willow looked away from… and looked into each other’s eyes.

Your eyes widened and you both felt a heat rising in your cheeks, eventually opting to drop to the ground. Even though you did this, you couldn’t bear to truly be apart.

You both silently reached for the other, clasping hands. Your hands were entwined as one. A silent show of solidarity. Your minds spinning so fast you couldn’t focus on a single thought. The only constant thing, the only real thing you could hold on to was each other.

The love that you shared.