#Burning of Persepolis

[jeannereames]

I have never fully understood the role of Thais within the court of Alexander. Some historians describe her as the lover of Ptolemy, while others assert that she was an intimate of Alexander himself. Given that she was allegedly involved with Alexander, could she also have had a relationship with Ptolemy? It seems improbable to me that Ptolemy would have taken an affair from Alexander without causing animosity between the two. I find it difficult to believe that Ptolemy would have “stolen” Alexander’s lover.

I apologize for all these questions, but I am very curious to hear your opinion on this matter. 🩷

It’s far from certain that Thaïs was ever romantically connected to Alexander. This assumption rests on only one (maybe two?) claims in late, Roman-era texts. Her connection and later marriage to Ptolemy is well-documented, however.

The Roman assertion seem to be assumption, based primarily on the account of the burning of Persepolis. In our Alexander histories, nobody calls her Alexander’s mistress, although Curtius is quite dismissive of her, essentially referring to her with a Latin term that can be rendered “tart.” (snort) But she isn’t portrayed specifically as Alexander’s mistress in any of these.

THIS POST “Thaïs & Hetairai” goes into a bit more detail about hetairai in general, speculating on where Thaïs might have fit in that scheme (answering a similar query), although I don’t talk much about her role at Persepolis in particular.

THIS POST “Fire from Heaven” does talks about Persepolis (and Thaïs), and why Alexander may have burnt it.

Furthermore, in the forthcoming festschrift for Ed Anson, Jenn Finn has a really good (albeit long) chapter on Alexander’s destruction of both Thebes and Persepolis, and what he may have intended by each act.

Btw, for those wondering at the spelling with the double dots over the /i/…that just means you pronounce both vowels. So, her name is “Tai-ees” not “Thice” or “Thaes.” In ancient Greek, the theta (th) is an aspirated /t/. Most people accidentally mispronounce her name. 😊

[illustratus]

Thaïs by William Nicholson

[spacekozak]

Greetings, All

So i’m fairly new to Tumblr, and despite skimming through the How-To section of this website, I’m still not entirely sure how it works, and what the ins and outs are, so bear with me.

I spend a lot of time thinking about The Expanse as a series. Mostly this is because i work at a job where I’m given a lot of autonomy and minimal supervision, so i can repeatedly listen to the last three books (the only three my cheap ass has opened his wallet up for so far), but also because its just So Damn Good.

The pacing, the dialogue, the themes explored. I love it all. Sure, I could do with a few less times when they explain how the ships or stellar objects are not to scale on a display, and that they wouldn’t be visible to the naked eye if they were, but other than that, I’d say I’ve got no complaints. It’s also refreshing to read a sci-fi series written by white guys who (so far as I know) haven’t done anything racist, fascist, or what have you. It’s a lot easier to enjoy something when there’s no guilt involved.

So yeah, I’ll mostly be talking about The Expanse. Some observations about the news and other things will be included as well, so if that isn’t your cup of tea, I’m genuinely sorry. As the name spacekozak suggests, Ukraine will probably feature prominently in that. Which, while I’m on the subject, if you have a few spare dollars, consider giving them to Razom (https://www.razomforukraine.org/donate/). They are a good organization doing good work, and your money would be greatly appreciated.

And that’s it for now I guess. Stay tuned.

[outforflowers]

a subject of worship

this is the most iconic answer, for real legends only. you were the most captivating, sexy, and interesting person in your past life. probably Cleopatra or Helen of Troy or something. in your current life, you are still 110% iconic, and smarter than literally everyone. ily <3

take my quiz and find out who you really were in a past life!

[ernestdescalsartwok]

INCENDIO-PALACIO-PERSEPOLIS-ARTE-PINTURA--DESTRUCCION-RITO-DIONISIO-HISTORIA-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-HETAIRA-THAIS-VENGANZA-ATENAS-GRECIA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS por Ernest Descals Por Flickr: INCENDIO-PALACIO-PERSEPOLIS-ARTE-PINTURA--DESTRUCCION-RITO-DIONISIO-HISTORIA-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-HETAIRA-THAIS-VENGANZA-ATENAS-GRECIA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS-- El incendio y destrucción del Palacio de PERSEPOLIS por parte de la Hetaira de Atenas Thais simbolizó el fin de un mundo y el principio de otro nuevo mundo, el Rey ALEJANDO MAGNO había derrotado a los ejércitos de Persia y era imprescindible crear un símbolo que escenificara el acontecimento histórico. Supuso también la venganza de Grecia por las antiguas destrucciones en Atenas, en un ceremonia salvaje en homenaje a los Ritos al Dios Dioniso, la mujer quemó bajo la atenta mirada del Ejército de Macedonia.

[madlovenovelist]

#bookporn #coverlove

I’ve been collecting this series, and am ready to jump in. My friends have been raving about ‘The Expanse‘ and it has also been touted as one of the best television adaptations too. Big shoes to fill!

[whencyclopedia]

Ancient Persian culture exerted a powerful influence throughout the Near East, and beyond, for over a thousand years between c. 550 BCE - 651 CE and many aspects of their culture continued to influence others afterwards and up through the present day. The first Persian polity was the Achaemenid Empire (c. 550-330 BCE) which fell to Alexander the Great and, after his death, the region was held by the Hellenic Seleucid Empire (312-63 BCE) founded by one of Alexander's generals Seleucus I Nicator (r. 305-281 BCE). Persian culture continued under the Seleucids, however, and again became dominant with the rise of the Parthian Empire (247 BCE-224 CE) and continued, at its greatest height, throughout the Sassanian Empire (224-651 CE) until the Persians were conquered by the invading Muslim Arabs. From the earliest days of the Achaemenid Empire till the last of the Sassanians, the Persians introduced a number of novel concepts in innovations and inventions which are often taken for granted today or whose origins are largely unknown. Literary motifs, the custom of daily teatime, care for dogs, refrigeration and air conditioning, and many other established aspects of daily modern life originated or were developed by the ancient Persians. The Persians held to an oral tradition of transmitting information, however, and so much of their history, until the Sassanian period, comes from others. A large part of whatever written records of the Achaemenids did exist was destroyed by Alexander when he burned the capital city of Persepolis in 330 BCE and the Parthians retained the oral tradition of their precursors and so much of Persian history was preserved by the Greeks and, later, the Romans. These writers did not always represent Persian culture accurately but provide enough information, coupled with archaeological evidence and what Persian sources remain, to recognize the power and vision of the culture and its enduring legacy. Below are ten contributions and historical facts relating to the Persians which are often overlooked or largely unknown. These are only a notable few, however, and do not begin to address the vast scope of Persian achievement.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

The Heart of a Wanderer VII

Clifftop

Previous chapter can be read here

If you need a complete refresher or would like to jump into this story, the masterlist can be found here

4.4k words. Very light sexual themes.

Azriel had flown them back to the edge of Persepolis in silence before winnowing them the rest of the way home. His face had remained a stoic, stony thing. Hard hazel eyes scouting their path meticulously but always carefully remaining averted from her. 

She thought she felt his gaze burning the side of her face a few times, sensed his chest constricting as if he were about to say something, but then he’d stop himself. If he was going to apologise for his outburst then she would accept, but she wasn’t going to beg for it. Nor make it easy for him. He’d acted like an ass, and she was sick of letting people get away with it. The entire way home was such a stark contrast to their flight in.

They had stayed only one night in Helion’s palace, needing the time to rehash her vision with the High Lord and then devise a plan to assist in anything they may need to avoid allowing Beron to be successful in the matter of the looming Spring Court invasion.

Helion, graciously, had agreed to provide aide, in whichever way he could. And she and Azriel had played their parts well. They had agreed the citizens of Spring couldn’t be left to defend for themselves against the might of the Autumn armies, and that their safety would be of utmost importance, along with stopping Beron from successfully taking over the fraught territory. Impeding Beron’s triumph in turn seemed imperative in protecting the humans who inhabited the land just below Springs’ borders, too.

After all matters of importance had been decided upon and planned for, Helion had invited them to drink and dine with him in his private parlour that night. Elain accepted graciously, but Azriel had politely declined, claiming he had reports to complete that had become pressing. 

She tasted the lie in the air, knowing the Shadowsinger was avoiding her, as he had been since their argument in his room. She had been deflated that they had found themselves back in this awkward territory after seemingly coming so close to being friends again. But she decided not to wallow, not to let his broodiness seep into her own attitude. If she had just one night here, out from under the watchful eyes of all of those from the Night Court, then she would damn well enjoy it.

She had changed into a more comfortable but no less stunning dress for the evening. A flowing gown that still resembled the Day Court fashion, but less stuffy and embellished, the colour a deep jade. Its bodice still hugged her torso and the skirts billowed around her slender legs, but the added gold embellishments were stripped, leaving her more relaxed to eat and lounge with the High Lord’s company for the night.

There were perhaps two dozen High Fae gathered in Helion’s private parlour when she joined them that evening, the room dimly lit with flickering glass lanterns strewn across the marble floors. Males and females alike dressed in gowns and robes in a kaleidoscope of deep jewelled tones were lounging on puffy, cloud like cream-coloured cushions, or draped across low-lying, deep-seated settees. 

Some attendees were already entangled in varying degrees of lust and desire, whilst others merely enjoyed the view and ambiance or discussion around them. Swathes of fine gold organza draped and folded from the low ceiling, giving one the sense that they were nestled within a giant ornate nest, the delicate fabric muffling the sounds of neighbouring conversations and impassioned touching alike. 

Crystal decanters of ruby, sapphire and emerald held various wines and liquors. Females in billowing magenta pants and exposed bellies floated around the room offering trays of plump dates, rosewater and orange-blossom flavoured jellies, and a sweet flaky pastry treat called baklava. Brass platters of fresh figs, soft cheeses and olives were spread across the scattered tables around the room. 

It was all so decadent and lush. And although Elain usually shied away from such scenes of debauchery, she found herself once again drawn into the thrall of the Day Court customs. Emboldened by the absence of anyone who reallyknew her. 

Here she could be anyone, here she could enjoy something she would normally not care to want, if even just for just a little while. It wasn’t something she longed for often, not at all. But on the occasion, it felt like a refreshing change. Like she could slip on a different mask and play make believe for just one night.

She had spent that evening in Leto’s company, her sandals kicked off and strewn about on the floor before her and her legs tucked beneath her on a soft, cream loveseat. They had not spoken or seen each other since the last time she had been in Day, which had been months ago, and she had forgotten how easy he was to talk to. She had forgotten how charming his smile was, how his rich olive skin seemed to glow from within, how his pale green eyes peered so intently at her as she spoke. But despite all of this, of how truly lovely this male was, she found her thoughts wandering up to the room beside hers. The room that she knew was currently occupied with the brooding shadowsinger. 

After his outburst, she figured Azriel must have been jealous of Leto. That he had sensed something between them and surmised some sort of scenario for himself. Never mind that all that had happened between them was a few kisses and heavy petting when she had last spent time here. Having indulged in a few glasses of Day Court wine had left Elain feeling lightheaded and a touch rambunctious. 

Sure, they were very hot and heavy kisses that still made her blush when she remembered them; how she had brazenly straddled his lap, how his hands had grazed across her burning skin, how his tongue had traced wicked paths up her throat and along her collar bones. She had explained to Leto that she was just looking for some light-hearted fun, nothing serious. He had merely replied that she was a beautiful young female, and she was entitled to do as she pleased. That there was no judgement in the Day Court. 

She wasn’t sure if he knew the status of her mateship. Not that it meant anything to her. But she didn’t bring it up and graciously, neither did he. 

During that first visit, they had indulged in a night of laughing and drinking and passionate foreplay, Elain draped over Leto’s lap as he ravished her lips, chest and neck. She’d never done such a thing, her human sensibilities always holding her back- but she found the more time she spent with the fae, the less she cared about trivial things such as decorum and propriety. She was free to do as she pleased, and she’d be damned if she was going to let a couple of stubborn males dictate what or who she should be doing. She belonged to no one.

So, she had enjoyed herself this visit too, although she had refrained from partaking in anything physical with Leto this time. He didn’t push her and seemed genuinely happy to just enjoy her company, talking with her into the early hours of the morning. When people started dispersing; either retiring to their quarters alone, or to finish what had been started with one or several partners, they too turned in for the night.

Leto had walked her to her door and left her with a sweet kiss on the back of her hand, wishing her a restful sleep. 

Entering her room that night, Elain hadn’t heard a single sound coming from the occupant next door. And yet a restful sleep was far from reach.

~

Elain sat on a plush leather couch in the main library of the river manor, a small fire crackling before her as the weather had finally started to turn colder. The looming clouds outside had been foreboding enough to have her forgo any of her gardening duties today, instead opting to hunt down any books about Seers, controlling one’s powers, and how to strengthen one’s mind to the onslaught of various magics.

The books she had collected were currently sat in a stack beside her on a small brass pedestal, a heavy tome open in her lap, but the words before her swayed in and out of focus. Her mind was unable to fixate on the topic before her, ironically. The broody Spymaster incessantly floating into her mind instead.

It had been almost a week since they had returned from Day, and beyond their initial meeting with Rhys upon their immediate return to Velaris, Elain had not heard a peep from Azriel. She wasn’t even sure if he had been staying at the river manor, let alone if he was anywhere in the entirety of the Night Court. 

It seemed every time there had been some sort of conflict between them, they would choose to run away. Her to the far reaches of Prythian, Azriel to the Mother knows where. She hated it. And she was sick of having to tiptoe around males. It was bad enough when Lucien imposed his presence upon her during his seldom visits to Velaris, but the thought of needing to avoid Azriel too? She could no longer stand the thought.

Snapping the book shut with a loud thud, Elain stood, flinging the leather-bound pages behind her on the cushion she had previously sat in. A small groan of frustration left her lips as she paced, back and forth, her feet wearing a path across the plush rug along the face of the fireplace.

Elain was fed up, aggravated of this cat and mouse game, the unpredictability of this situation between herself and Azriel. They couldn’t continue avoiding each other forever, and further to that she had the nagging suspicion that there was something he wasn’t being completely honest with her about. She was tired of the restless nights and simply of not knowing. Of not knowing where he was, when he would return, if he was safe, how he felt, how she felt. It was growing tiresome and once again she decided that she couldn’t wait.

She couldn’t wait until an appropriate time to corner him, to speak with him. She couldn’t wait for him to come strolling through the door in his worn leathers, his face weary. She wouldn’t.

And so, she once again closed her eyes. Delving further and further into that mysterious well of power that rumbled deep within, she allowed the pull of the void to lead her along the path to Azriel as she winnowed.

~

Before Elain had even opened her eyes, she felt the cold, harsh wind whipping against her skirts, tangling in her long hair. She hadn’t thought to don a cloak in her urgency to go, and truth be told, the bite of the icy air only bolstered her resolve.

Cracking her eyes open to reveal the scene she had winnowed to, she learnt why the wind was so arctic here, why it so ferociously whipped about her. 

Standing near the edge of a rocky cliffside, she peered around her, spotting Azriel about twenty paces ahead. His back was turned to her, his mighty wings a strong dark force against the strong gale. He stood deathly still, the only movement was his raven hair that whipped wildly about his face, and a few lone shadows that swirled about his feet, caressed his neck.

Elain couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by him, the mighty warrior on the edge of the jagged cliff. His strong thighs planting him securely to the ground beneath his feet, the two siphons upon those brutally scarred hands the only source of brightness in the otherwise moody scene before her. 

A shadow coiled about his ear before disappearing, and Azriel turned, a look of mild surprise lining his face as he beheld Elain standing in the knee length grassy meadow at his back. Before he could turn around completely, Elain’s feet moved. She was grateful she hadn’t winnowed to directly on top of him this time, but she didn’t let the insecurity of that dredged up memory show as she closed the distance between them.

His deep voice floated over to her on the back of a strong gust of wind. “How did you find me?”

Once she was within a few paces of him, she halted, standing before him with her shoulders thrown back. Elain chose to ignore his question. She wasn’t sure how she had found him anyway. It was as if some part of her knew where she could find Azriel, where she could always find Azriel. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d never admit the pull she felt toward him, the bright, invisible thread that seemed to bind them.

“I winnowed,” she responded instead. A vague enough answer that perhaps alerted him to her hedging but provided enough information to the Spymaster that confirmed they remained alone. That no one had brought her here. That they could speak freely.

“Is everything ok?” he responded. She spied a few shadows darting away, no doubt off to gather information about any happenings he should be aware of, any danger.

“Everyone is fine. I just wanted to speak with you.”

His face gave nothing away, even as his eyes bore into hers unwaveringly, seemingly trying to read her expression in return. “What about?”

Elain scoffed at the question somewhat unkindly, his seemingly feigned naivety grating on her patience. “What about?You have been avoiding me since the day we arrived in Persepolis. Barely three words have been uttered. You cannot be that obtuse, Azriel.”

His eyebrows bunched together as a dimple appeared in the tan skin of his smooth cheek. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with her last remark or trying to hide his surprise.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he murmured adamantly, clasping his hands behind his back, a muscle in his neck twitching.

“Oh yes you have, you haven’t been home in over a week, nor present at a single meal,” she bit back, her muscles now tensed against the ice cold winds.

“I’ve been busy with the looming conflict in Spring. I…I’ve been coming home late and leaving before you rise.”

“So, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“As I said, I’ve been busy,” he bit out, not conceding to her inferences.

“Well, we’re here now, and I’ve had enough,” her temper was rising at his petulance.

“Enough of what?”

Enough of what? Elain heard her own heartbeat pounding wildly in her ears, her temper flaring with every passing word Azriel uttered. She exploded, her voice coming out louder than before, her arms splayed out wide. “Of running! Of you running, of me running. I’ve had enough!”

“I haven’t been running—"

“Oh, come off it, Azriel!” she shouted, cutting him off from telling more lies.

“What do you want me to say?” He too was growing exasperated now. Good. She’d had enough of his stoic composure. She’s gladly see him unravel if it meant he was honest.

“The truth! Tell me the truth! I know there is something you are not being honest about.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, the only sign that she had said something with some certainty behind it. Even still, he seemed reluctant to speak his mind.

“Is it really that bad? The thought of kissing me?” She had uttered the words so softly; she couldn’t swallow them before they had come tumbling out.

His face cracked, his shoulders softening slightly, his hands flinching at his sides as if they ached to reach for her. It was clear he hadn’t expected such candor from her, nor had she expected to let that admission free from her private thoughts.

His voice came out as a croak, his eyes peering down upon her beseechingly. “No. it’s not that. Elain…”

His words drifted off, fading into nothing, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly, the scars on his hands stretched over his clenched fists. His eyes darted across her face, his expression giving nothing away, and yet something charged went taught between them. That mysterious thread once again pulling.

“Azriel…”

She started the sentence but truly wasn’t mindful of how she’d finish it. But no sooner had his name slipped from between her lips he was stalking toward her. His long legs ate up the space between them in just a few paces and in the next moment he had reached out with those beautiful hands and buried them into her hair. 

Before she could register his intentions, he had swooped down and captured her lips with his. Azriel kissed her so desperately, so passionately, that the air had been knocked from her lungs. He had utterly caught her by surprise and she couldn’t react, her body wilting in his arms. Melting hopelessly into his embrace.

Her arms hung limply at her sides as he pulled away slightly, his face still so close to hers, lips swollen from their kiss, his bright hazel eyes churning as they searched her face. In vain he searched for an answer, for a sign that what he had done was ok, that she too, had wanted this.

Before he could pull away, she had grabbed the front of his leathers, tugging him down toward her and this time Elain kissed him with back the same amount of gusto. The same amount of aching need leaching from every swipe of her tongue, every bite of her lips, every sweep of her hands dragging along his neck, asking a question she desperately longed to find the answer to. 

He answered, leaving no query as to what his intentions were.

His kiss consumed her, like flames licking languidly at her very soul, slowly devouring her until there was nothing left. Elain threw herself into the kiss, allowing her hands to wander down his hard chest, around his shoulders, the nape of his neck. He groaned in response, a bestial thing born from his gut, his very essence singing in answer to hers.

Her slight hands inched beneath the collar of his leathers, and he shivered as the pads of her fingers caressed along his hot skin. She was burning and burning and burning in his arms. So many months of longing, so many moments of visceral need, so many feelings pulling at her from every direction.

And yet… she still did not know. She didn’t know what this all meant, why he had pulled away all those months ago, why he chose now to act on his feelings. Did he in fact feel anything for her? Or was this merely a physical need? Did he care for her at all? He had, once again, ran away from a problem.

Before the fire burning low in her belly could completely douse the dwindling clarity in her mind, she tore her lips away from his. As painful as it was to do so, they couldn’t leave this conversation lingering once more.

“Azriel… Az— wait,” she gasped as he latched his lips onto the side of her neck, his tongue laving at the skin there, pulling and swirling across the length of her throat as if he couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. A groan escaped his throat as he continued sucking at her and she couldn’t help the flutter of her eyes at the deep sound, the vibrations against her neck shooting straight through her centre.

“Azriel,” she moaned at a particularly delicious swipe of his tongue against her burning skin, “stop—” she mewled weakly.

No sooner had that final word fallen from her mouth, Azriel had flung himself off her. Snatching his hands away from her body and dragging them roughly through his hair he panted, remorse etched painfully on his face.

“Elain, I— I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” he spluttered as he continued to back away from her as if she had bitten venom into his veins. Self-hatred lined his face, truly believing he had done something wrong, something she did not wish.

“Azriel, no- that’s not what I meant. Its ok, I wanted this. Just, stop retreating. Stop running away. I only mean— if you cannot speak openly with me, then you have no right to my body, either.”

He turned pleading eyes toward her, his face stricken, still believing he had done something wicked, had forced himself on her. Seducing her into something that she didn’t wish.

She knew no words would be able to lift him out of the spiral he was currently plunging into so instead she showed him. Showed him that she trusted him, that she longed for his touch, that she wished for it day and night. But before she could completely succumb to those desires, she needed an explanation. She needed an understanding of where they stood, what she meant to him, why he had left her so abruptly that Solstice. 

Stalking up to him and grasping his hands in hers, she looked up into his face, hoping to portray nothing but sincerity, trust, comfort in his near presence.

“Azriel, please. Just tell me. Tell me what it is. What it all means. Why you’re jealous of Leto, why you avoided me for all those months, why you called me a mistake…”

A chocking sound escaped his throat. He looked stricken, his shoulders sagging with the weight of a secret she knew not. His eyes had closed but as he opened them his hazel irises burned brighter than she had ever seen them, appearing almost golden in the light of the setting sun.

“You are not a mistake Elain. You have no idea how abhorrently those words haunt me. How my actions haunt me, just. Please. Please try to understand.”

“Understand what? Azriel, stop evading speaking your truth! Please, just say… something.”

“I can’t—” a rasping sound clawed its way to his lips, as if the words were chocking him.

“Elain, I’m sorry. You deserve better.” 

Pulling his hands from hers he inched backwards once more, edging closer and closer to that cliff.

“Azriel! Stop running!” she cried, her mouth twisting in pain despite her attempts at willing it not to.

His hazel eyes guttered at the sight; the same devastation she felt reflected on his handsome face.

As if his legs moved on their own accord, he stalked back to her, reaching for her like a man finding nirvana. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tilting her face up to his, her doe eyes wide as she peered back at him. He held her tenderly as if he had possession of the most precious thing in the world in the palm of his hands. His thumb traced her jaw and he looked down upon her as if he wished for nothing more than to simply exist in her embrace. “I’m not running, Elain. But please, let me…let me fix something first. I’ll see you at home. I promise.”

With those words, he pressed his lips to her forehead for one long, pointed moment before he retreated again and stepped off the edge of the cliff. Elain gasped, forgetting herself before his wings shot out from behind him, catching a current and carrying him away.

Elain lifted her fingers to her lips, feeling they were indeed swollen from his passionate kisses. That this all just wasn’t a dream, a vision cruelly planted in her mind to torment her further.

She stood on that blustery cliff edge watching him fly away until he was but a dark speck upon the horizon in the far distance, high above the lights of Velaris, just winking to life as the sun set upon the city she called home.

~

Hours later Elain was being woken up by an urgent hand shaking her shoulder. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep, spending hours tossing and turning in her bed back at the manor. She had awaited Azriel’s return, straining her ears to hear any movement from his room down the hall, but such a thing never occurred. Her younger sisters’ tattooed fingers dug into her shoulder as her eyes adjusted to the first rays of morning light.

“Elain. Elain. Wake up. Beron has made his move. His armies march south.”

Elain bolted up in bed, the words clanging in her brain like a clapper pounding against the inside of its bell.

Elain scrambled within her bed sheets, fighting to free herself from the tangle of quilts and furs.

“I’ll get dressed immediately; I just need a minute,” she babbled, her voice thick from sleep.

“No Elain, wait. I need you to stay with Nyx, protect him,” Feyre instructed, the voice of the High Lady making its request. “Rhys and Az have already gone ahead. Cassian is gathering the Illyrian troops. Nesta and I are leaving shortly to meet them, and Mor is on her way too. Amren will stay behind with you to protect the city.”

Elain wanted to argue, wanted to insist she go with them. Help them in any way she could. But she knew why her sister asked her of this. She wasn’t a warrior. Was not trained in combat. Although no one could settle and care for Nyx outside of his parents like she could, something still twinged in her heart about being separated from them all during this time. But she knew this is where she was most useful.

Elain nodded her head just once, her sister seeming to sag in relief that Elain hadn’t put up more of a fight.

“Thank you,” Feyre breathed, “Send word with the twins if something comes up.”

“We’ll be fine, I promise,” Elain vowed. Feyre saw it for what it was; that Elain would protect Nyx with her life. Today and always.

Feyre squeezed her shoulder before turning away, her long braid swinging down her back against the leathers she had already donned. Time and time again her family had gone into battle, had been flung into conflict and danger and terrors beyond her wildest dreams. Elain couldn’t help but wonder when their luck would finally run out.

“Feyre?” Elain called from her bed, the urgency evident in her voice. 

Feyre turned; her blue grey eyes bright with concern. “Yes?”

“Please make sure you come home. All of you.”

Feyre nodded solemnly before she turned back, and Elain could do nothing but watch her sister retreating from her room for what she desperately hoped wasn’t the last time.

*******

tag list:

@fawnandshadows

@ultadverb

@nightcourtseer

@wingedblooms

@tswaney17

@jasmineandshadows

@azrielslight

@shadowflorecita

@curiositywoman

@tealeaves-and-rosepetals

@theanonymousopossum

@elrielbaby

@reverie-tales

@jmoonjones

@nikethestatue

@biimbocore

@duskwhisperer

@emely01

@lyncheffield

@dottielovegood

@supernaturallynerdy

@darthpheonix

@glaucocomora

@glasscupsss

@dreamsandwings

@liliput2203

@justreallybored

@chaoticesthete

@elainsweetcobalt

@evanescsent

@mis-lil-red

@emilyondemand

@draguta

@shedoessoshedoes

@lesolehabitantdelalune

@123moiaussi

@edanmaia

@fancysludgeshoelamp

@elriellover

@serendipity-by-chance

@britishwings

@ilikebigb00ksandicannotlie

@lunaduskxo

@acourtofquietdreamers

@downingg2001

[garudabluffs]

Iran women's protests are the focus of 'Persepolis' author Marjane Satrapi's new book

April 27, 2024 "Spanish artist Patricia Bolaños says she thought it was a prank when she got an email about working on the project with the famed author of Persepolis. It was only when Satrapi got in touch herself that she believed it. Bolaños, who lives in New York, says Persepolis is one of her favorite graphic novels but she knew little about Iran. / So she worked with one of the project's Iran scholars to illustrate the book's chapter on the "Aghazadeh," or noble-born, a term connoting nepotism and corruption that's used to describe the children of Iran's elite, its ruling mullahs and Revolutionary Guards. //

Bolaños says she was inspired by one of their Instagram accounts, "Rich Kids of Tehran," which showed the Aghazadeh wearing bikinis on French Riviera beaches, drinking alcohol and partying.

"It was really scary because these are the kids of those setting the rules, but they don't follow the rules," she says. "For me, it was like, how is this possible? Especially for the women. These kids are perpetuating this corrupt system. And at certain moments they have to collide with this other world of other women fighting and dying for freedom."

Bolaños wanted to know what those moments are like. The last cartoon in her chapter shows a stylish Aghazadeh checking her Instagram account. "She watches videos of women burning veils and yelling 'freedom,'" says Bolaños, "and the reader sees it reflected in her sunglasses. And someone asks her, what are you watching? And she says... nothing."

READ MORE https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/tnyradiohour/articles/jerry-seinfeld-on-making-a-life-in-comedy-and-also-pop-tarts

[ierotits]

was talking about the burning of the palace at persepolis and in trying to find an equivalent for that the students could relate to I said "imagine some Aussie comes over, sacks wellington, then throws a drinking party in the beehive (aotearoa parliament) and burns it down. how would you feel?" and one of them goes "I kinda would care miss"

[aphroditelovesu]

Is it me or does Alexander give us Claude Frollo Vibes?

Guard: Your Majesty, The Queen... she's not in your shared quarters, shes...gone.

Alexander: But..HOW? Nevermind...Get Heeeer you IDIOT! I'll Find her.... I'll find her if I HAVE to BURN DOWN ALL OF PERSIA/GREECE!!!

TOTALLY!!

I can actually see him do it!! Perhaps the fire of Persepolis was caused by different reasons than we already know 👀

And her return to her time, oh...

~ Lady L

[jeannereames]

Shows or movies based on historic figures and events are hard to pull off if the goals are to be both entertaining and somewhat true to history. If we accept that some inaccuracies can't be avoided in order to appeal to audiences what would you consider cornerstones and pillars about Alexander and his history that can't/shouldn't be touched in order to paint a somewhat realistic picture in media based on him and his life?

How to Make a Responsible Movie or Documentary about Alexander

I saved this to answer around the time of the Netflix release. For me, there are four crucial areas, so I’ll break it down that way. Also. I recognize that the LENGTH of a production has somewhat to do with what can be covered.

But, first of all…what story is one telling? The story arc determines where the focus lies. Even documentaries have a story. It’s what provides coherence. Is it a political tale? A military one? Or personal? Also, what interpretation to take, not only for Alexander but those around him. Alexander is hugely controversial. It’s impossible to make everyone happy. So don't try. Pick an audience; aim for that audience.

MILITARY:

Alexander had preternatural tactical skills. His strategy wasn’t as good, however, especially when younger. Tactics can be a genius gift (seeing patterns), but strategy requires experience and knowledge of the opposition. The further into his campaign, the more experience he gained, but the cultures became increasingly unfamiliar. He had ups and downs. He was able to get out of Baktria finally by marrying Roxana. That was strategy, not tactics. He beat Poros, then made a friend of him; that’s strategy. Yet he failed to understand the depth of the commitment to freedom among the autonomous tribes south along the Indus, which resulted in a bloody trek south. And his earlier decision to burn Persepolis meant he’d never fully reconcile the Persian elite.

So, it’s super important to emphasize his crazy-mad tactical gifts in all forms of combat, from pitched battles to skirmishes to sieges. Nobody in history ever equaled him except maybe Subatai, Genghis Khan’s leading general. In the end, I think that’s a lot of Alexander’s eternal fascination. He fought somewhere north of 250 battles, and lost none (where he was physically present).

But HOW to show that? What battles to put on screen? Oliver Stone combined three into one + Hydaspes because he had only 2-3.5 hours (depending on which cut you watch). The Netflix series is going to show all four of the major pitched battles…or at least all 3 for the 6-episode first part. They had circa 4.5 hours to play with, but they cut out other things, like Tyre.

Another issue, from the filming/storytelling point-of-view is how to distinguish Issos from Gaugamela for the casual viewer. They’re virtually identical in tactics (and players on the field). So it made a fair bit of sense to me for Stone to conflate them. In a documentary, it’s more important to separate them, largely to discuss the fall-out.

Some v. important clashes weren’t the Big Four. Among these, the sieges of Halikarnassos and Tyre are probably the most impressive. But the Aornos Rock in India was another amazing piece. I’d also include the bridging of the Indus River to illustrate the astonishing engineering employed. Again, if I had to pick between Halikarnassos and Tyre, I’d pick Tyre. I was a bit baffled by Netflix’s decision to show Halikarnassos instead, but I think it owed to an early error in the scripts, where they had Memnon die there. I corrected that, but they’d already mapped out the beats of the episodes, so they just kept Halikarnassos. That’s fine; it was a major operation, just not his most famous siege.

Last, I really wish somebody, someday, will do something with his Balkan campaigns. What he did in Thrace and Illyria, at just 21, showed his iron backbone and quick thinking. It’d make a great “and the military genius is born” set-up, drama wise. But you could use the Sogdian Rock to show the clever streak, at least (“Find men who can fly” … “I did; look up.” Ha) Plus it has the advantage of being where he (maybe) found Roxana.

Last, he fought extremely well--wasn't just good at tactics. Being a good general doesn’t necessarily mean one’s a good fighter. He was. Almost frighteningly brave, so show that too.

RELIGIOUS:

Ya gotta deal with the “Did he really think he was a god?” thing, and the whole trip to Siwah. I obviously don’t think he believed he was a god; it’s one of the things I disliked about the Netflix show’s approach, but they were dead-set on it. I DO think he came to believe he was somehow of divine descent, but of course, that’s not the same as most moderns understand it, as I’ve explained elsewhere. It made him a hero, not a god on a level with Zeus, and to ME, that’s an important distinction that Netflix (and to some degree Stone) rode roughshod over.

But I’d like to see more inclusion of sacrifice and/or omen-reading—religion in general. Cutting the Gordion Knot (omens!). His visit to Troy (Netflix tackled that one). A really cool thing would be to make more of the lunar eclipse before Gaugamela. Again, Netflix touched on that, but it’s one of those chance events that might actually have affected a battle’s outcome, given how seriously the ancient near east took sky omens. (A solar eclipse once halted a battle.) The Persians were freaked out. Even his massacre of the Branchidai in Sogdiana was driven by religion, not military goals. Pick a couple and underscore them.

I give Stone big props for the sacrifice before the Granikos/Issos/Gaugamela battle. It was so well-done, I’ve actually shown it in my classes to demonstrate what a battlefield sphagia sacrifice would look like.

Alexander was deeply religious. Show it.

POLITICAL:

Ah, for ME the most interesting stuff surrounding Alexander occurs at the political level. Here’s where the triumph story of his military victories all went south. He knew how to win battles. He was less good at managing what he’d conquered.

In terms of a story arc, the whole period up to Gaugamela is really the “rise” of the story. Post-Gaugamela, things began to collapse. And I would pin the turn on PERSEPOLIS. Yes, burning it sent home a message of “Mission accomplished.” But he was selective about it. Areas built by Darius I were spared, Xerxes’ were destroyed: a damnio memoriae.

Problem: Persepolis embodied Persia, and ATG essentially shat on it. Not a good look for the man who wanted to replace Darius III. That he also failed to capture and/or kill Darius created an additional problem for him. Finally, his lack of understanding of how politics worked in Baktria-Sogdiana resulted in an insurgency. Bessos was going to rebel, regardless. But Spitamanes might not have. Alexander created his own mess up there.

Another matter to look at is why he created a new title—King of Asia—instead of adopting the Persian title (King-of-Kings). I don’t think that was a “mistake.” He knew perfectly well the proper Persian title (Kshāyathiya)…and rejected it. He adopted some Persian protocol, but not all of it. After the summer of 330, he was essentially running two parallel courts, which seemed to satisfy neither the Persians nor his own men. (Kinda like docudramas are a hybrid that seems to annoy perhaps more than satisfy.)

So I’d like to see this handled with some nuance, but it’s intrinsically difficult to do—even while, if done well, it would be the most interesting part of an Alexander story, imo.

So, what events, what events…3-4 leap out after Alexander’s adoption of some Persian dress. The Philotas Affair, the Pages Conspiracy, the Death of Kleitos, the marriage to Roxana. I’d show it all, although I could also understand reducing the two conspiracies to one, for time, in which case, the Philotas Affair because it resulted in the fall of Parmenion. But the fact there were two, not just one, tells a story itself.

What about the proskynesis thing with Kallisthenes? I’ve come to disbelieve it ever happened, even though it’s symbolic of the whole problem. So, weirdly, I’m of two minds about showing it. OTOH, it won’t be in my own novels. But OTOH, I could easily see why a showrunner or director might want to include it. And it certainly appears in several of the histories, including Arrian.

Then we have the two indisciplines (mutinies)…one in India that made ATG turn around, and another at Opis. They’re really two different things as one was an officer’s rebellion, the other the soldiers themselves. But will viewers be able to distinguish between them? It’s like the Issos/Gaugamela problem, or for that matter, the two conspiracies. They’re similar enough to confuse the casual viewer. “Didn’t we already see that?”

But if they were narrowed to one, how to choose? The mutiny on the Hyphasis provides an explanation for why he turned back. But the Opis event was more dramatic. The man jumped down into the middle of a rioting crowd and started (essentially) knocking heads together! So if I had to pick…Opis. The other might could be mentioned in retrospect.

PERSONAL:

Here are five things I think really OUGHT to be shown, or that I have yet to be pleased by.

1) Philip isn’t an idiot and should get more than 10 minutes of screentime. Oh, and show Alexander did learn things from him. Stone had to make his movie a Daddy-Issues flick, and the Netflix thing did very little with Philip as they wanted to get to the Alexander-Darius face off (which was the meat of their story). But there’s a very interesting love/competition story there.

2) Olympias is not a bitch and was not involved in Phil’s murder, although I can see why that is catnip to most writers. She did kill Eurydike’s baby and (by extension) Eurydike. One of the historians in the Netflix story (Carolyn, unless I misremember) talked about the rivalry between the two wives, at least. But I think ATG planned to marry the widow and Olympias got rid of her to prevent it. Now THAT’S a story, no? But they were in too much of a hurry to get to Persia.

3) Alexander was not an only child! He had sisters (and a brother) with whom he was apparently close…and a cousin who was his real rival. To me, missing that cousin rivalry overlooks a juicy personal/political story! Too often all the focus winds up on Alexander-Olympias-Philip-Eurydike-Attalos, but man, a more subtle showrunner could do a lot with the Alexander-Amyntas rivalry. But he’s constantly cut out. I can’t think of a documentary that actually addresses Amyntas except in passing (if at all)l

4) Hephaistion’s importance is a must, but I’d like to see him treated as someone with a personality and authority of his own, besides just as ATG’s lover. At least Netflix Went There onscreen with the love-story part, but otherwise, the writers couldn’t figure out what to do with him. Neither Stone nor Netflix really portrayed him as his own person. I do understand why they can’t show the whole cast of characters. I had to do weeding myself in the novels, but I’m annoyed Netflix showed only Hephaistion and Ptolemy. Where’s Perdikkas (so important all along really, but certainly later)? Or Philotas, Kleitos, Krateros, Leonnatos, Lysimachos (later king of Thrace)? I think viewers could probably have handled at least another 5 people, especially if introduced gradually, not all at the beginning.

This brings me to….

5) Alexander’s apparently very real affection for the people in his orbit, from personal physician (Philip) to childhood pedagogue (Lysimachos [not same as above]) to Aristotle to various other philosophers. He was so loyal to his friends, in fact, he initially jailed the people who brought word of Harpalos’ first flight.

He needed to be loved/appreciated and wanted to give back to people. Yes, generosity was expected of kings, and as a king (THE king), his generosity had to excel that of anybody else. But he seemed to genuinely enjoy giving presents. I think of him like that one friend who heard you say you liked that cute pair of “Hello, Kitty” socks…then 6 months later they’re your Christmas present from them. Some of his gifts were grandiose, but not always. I love the dish of little fish (probably smelts) that he sent to Hephaistion, presumably just because his friend liked smelts!

To me, point #5 would be easy to get in with a skilled scriptwriter, tucked into the corners of other scenes. It’d be fun to highlight the personal side. If we can believe Plutarch, he was a PRODIGIOUS letter-writer. Also, he loved to hunt, so that’s another thing. And he loved the theatre, and to watch sport. These would all be very humanizing details.

I think the biggest issue is that most of these documentaries/docudramas are done by people who don’t know squat about Alexander aside from a few things, before deciding to make a documentary/movie about him, or write a book. Their research is shallow, and even if they bring on the experts, they don’t always listen. Stone DID at least have a long fascination with ATG, but it caused him to try to throw in everything but the kitchen sink. It wasn't as bad of a film as some have made it out to be, just horribly bloated and for all his reading, he never understood the WORLDVIEW. I wrote about that some while back in my review.

The best documentary/movie would be told by an actual specialist who knew enough at the outset to craft a better, more complex story arc.

Or maybe I’m just biased because I tried to do that myself in my novels. 😂😂😂😂

[cherrychevellet]

In this land of broken poems and sun-drenched ruins, where our love was whispered like ancient verses woven into the silk of our letters, each word a pomegranate seed, heavy and red.

He called me eshgham, sent words blooming like wild tulips in a field of faded dreams and gunpowder skies. We held each other through ink and longing, a love carved out in the scent of jasmine and crushed rose petals, hidden between shadows of what could never be.

But one day, he left said I should find someone untouched by war, someone whose hands weren’t stained by the dust of history and fire. How do I unlove a soul that still sings in every wind that sweeps through Tehran’s empty streets? How do I forget the taste of his name on my lips, like saffron dissolving in warm milk at dawn?

I’m still here waiting, with the weight of a thousand nights spent dreaming of what we could have been, dying a little more each day, trapped in the ruins of a love that can’t leave but can’t stay, either. I wait for him like rain in the heart of the desert, like the last notes of an old tar song, playing softly in the hush of a dim-lit courtyard.

We are like hafez’s forbidden verses a firefly caught in a world that demands darkness. I’m still here, burning quietly, writing his name on every corner of my heart, like stars above Persepolis, like a love that refuses to vanish even under a sky that’s always on the verge of breaking.

[reckonslepoisson]

Kick Out the Jams (1969), Back in the USA (1970), High Time (1971), MC5 

It’s tough to think of Detroit being a centre of global industry and culture, given that today the city seems as far fallen from grace as Baghdad, Persepolis, Carthage. And yet it’s in that context that the Motor City 5 helped ignite a movement in western pop that, a half-century later, is still thriving. MC5 are known as the propulsive and wide-eyed front runners of (proto) punk, but I personally love how their records audibly show the ‘roll’ being eked out of ‘rock ‘n’ roll’. Like much very early punk, the band’s music lays a path showing the formation of some of my favourite styles of music; unlike much early punk, I actually enjoy quite a bit of MC5. Political urgency with a touch of youthful, goofy naivety and without punk’s faddy narcissism/nihilism, it’s easy to get swept up in MC5’s authentic belief in action – as well as, of course, these releases’ uncontainable energy.

Pick(s): ‘Motor City Is Burning’, ‘The American Ruse’, ‘Miss X’

[lturnips]

there's something really poetic about Alexander the Great conquering the Persian empire and deliberately burning Persepolis (the symbol of Persian kingship) to the ground, trying to erase the empire only for it to actually preserve loads of clay tablets which are some of the only sources that can tell us about daily Persian life that aren't biased sources from the conquering Greeks. something about perseverance no matter how hard you try stamp down the resistance...

[whencyclopedia]

Alexander the Great & the Burning of Persepolis

In the year 330 BCE Alexander the Great (l. 356-323 BCE) conquered the Achaemenid Persian Empire following his victory over the Persian Emperor Darius III (r. 336-330 BCE) at the Battle of Gaugamela in 331 BCE. After Darius III's defeat, Alexander marched to the Persian capital city of Persepolis and, after looting its treasures, burned the great palace and surrounding city to the ground, destroying hundreds of years' worth of religious writings and art along with the magnificent palaces and audience halls which had made Persepolis the jewel of the empire.

The City

Persepolis was known to the Persians as Parsa ('The City of the Persians'), and the name 'Persepolis' meant the same in Greek. Construction on the palace and city was initiated between 518-515 BCE by Darius I the Great (r. 522-486 BCE) who made it the capital of the Persian Empire (replacing the old capital, Pasargadae) and began to house there the greatest treasures, literary works, and works of art from across the Achaemenid Empire. The palace was greatly enhanced (as was the rest of the city) by Xerxes I (r. 486-465 BCE, son of Darius, and would be expanded upon by Xerxes I's successors, especially his son Artaxerxes I (r. 465-424 BCE), although later Persian kings would add their own embellishments.

Darius I had purposefully chosen the location of his city in a remote area, far removed from the old capital, probably in an effort to dramatically differentiate his reign from the past monarchs. Persepolis was planned as a grand celebration of Darius I's rule and the buildings and palaces, from Darius' first palace and reception hall to the later, and grander, works of his successors, were architectural masterpieces of opulence designed to inspire awe and wonder.

In the area now known as the Marv Dasht Plain (northwest of modern-day Shiraz, Iran) Darius had a grand platform-terrace constructed which was 1,345,488 square feet (125,000 square meters) big and 66 feet (20 meters) tall and on which he built his council hall, palace, and reception hall, the Apadana, featuring a 200-foot-long (60 meters) hypostyle hall with 72 columns 62 feet (19 meters) high. The columns supported a cedar roof which was further supported by cedar beams. These columns were topped by sculptures of various animals symbolizing the king's authority and power. The Apadana was designed to humble any guest and impress upon visitors the power and majesty of the Persian Empire.

Darius I died before the city was completed and Xerxes I continued his vision, building his own opulent palace on the terrace as well as the Gate of All Nations, flanked by two monumental statues of lamassu (bull-men), which led into his grand reception hall stretching 82 feet (25 meters) long, with four large columns 60 feet high (18.5 meters) supporting a cedar roof with brightly decorated walls and reliefs on the doorways. The city is described by the ancient historian Diodorus Siculus (l. 1st century BCE) as the richest in the world and other historians describe it in the same terms.

Continue reading...