#Day 12: Quarry

[midnightmagicks]

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Day 12: Quarry

Quarry: a thing or person that is chased or sought.

Swirls of fog denote danger within the alleyways of the quiet city of Kugane. 

Lurking. Waiting. Always hunting for the newest entertainment.

Whispers of a finicky yokai; One whose whims flow and dissipate much like his telltale mist. One is warned to always be on guard and never alone at night in the dimly lit pathways that weave the city, lest one find themselves the fox’s quarry. 

Pray to the Kami that he does not take interest in you.

[starres-stuff]

Day 12: Quarry FFXIV Write 2024

Quarry: Anything being hunted or pursued

“Been a while, what brings you out here?” 

The voice caught Viviane off guard and she spun around to see the familiar face of an old friend, a Bounty Hunter from the Shroud who went by the name of Ellie. 

“Took the day off from baking and decided to come out here with the bow, been a while since I’ve practiced.” Vi was never one to reveal too much about herself, kept things safer for everyone involved “How about you? What has you here? Not like you need any practice.” Ellie had always been a crack shot with a bow, even when she had a broken wrist. 

“Nerves I guess, got a bit hunt coming up this week,” Ellie said quietly, not that anyone was around them, or even listening in on the conversation but it was the way of the hunters, everything was done in whispers and secrets. 

“What’s the quarry?” Vi murmured as she hung over the side of the wall into the area Ellie was occupying with her things next to her. The other woman looked much older now, unlike Vi who never seemed to change as she aged, and she had recently become concerned about that as it was becoming more noticeable year to year that she was still how she looked in her twenties. 

“Voidsent,” Ellie grunted, picking up her bow she gave the string a light tug and then turned towards the target about ten fulms out to make certain everything was in balance before she started firing arrows.  “Nasty bastard too, been harvesting Aether out of Camp Tranquil. They are convinced it is this Chocobo Handler that came into town a sennight ago, people started vanishing not too long after they arrived.” 

The word Voidsent always made Vi swallow hard, there was always the tangible fear that someday it would be here that her old friends would be hunting even though she knew that she wasn’t like the things that came out of the void directly, the stain on her still meant she had to take on extra aether to remain healthy.  

“Had part is no one knows where he goes when it is dark. It’s like he vanishes during the night and then reemerges first thing in the morning when the tents are open again. Our contact said she’s not even sure it is him but there is no one else there that is new.” 

Now that Ellie was satisfied with her bow, she plucked an arrow out of her quiver, slid it along the string, and then at the last possible moment she pulled back, letting it fly towards the target. To Vi there was nothing more soothing than the thwip of an arrow leaving its bow, the whoosh of the wind behind it, and, the thunk it made as it embedded into the boards that supported the target; a dreamy look appeared on her face as her mind traveled along with its flight. 

“Damn missed center by an ilm.” Ellie chuckled at herself, but Vi knew out in the field when you were working that ilm off-center could mean life or death for the hunter who had taken the shot. 

“That’s because you are nervous,” Vi commented with a small smile on her face, recalling something Ellie had said to her almost five cycles ago when she had first started her job as a Bounty Hunter. “The more you think about your quarry and what could go wrong, the more you are going to be working yourself up, and then when you are facing it you are going to forget all of those things and move on instinct.” 

Ellie let out a snort, then took a drink from her flask, which was filled with whiskey, Vi’s nose was just that sensitive and could pick up certain things without much of a struggle. “So the student becomes the teacher, would love to have you along you know. Got a place on the team for you, if you ever want to start hunting ago, you were damn good at what you did.” 

Somewhere in her mind, a small voice yelled ‘Yes do it!’ but when Vi spoke what came out was “I thank you for the offer I have the bakery now as I’m sure you have heard from the others who have stopped in for breakfast. There is also the matter I have not yet explained to my husbands my past.” a small smile appeared on her face as she mentioned them and then she added on “We tend to keep out past pretty guarded even from each other. Better to just move forward that go digging in each others secrets. Too many questions.” 

Ellie pulled another arrow from her quiver and nocked it against the bowstring, of course, Vi caught the look out of the corner of her right eye “You know sometimes keeping secrets keeps us from doing the things we are born to do. Can’t tell me you are happy to be working the counter at a bakery Vi, you got a thrill out of the hunt, you had a lust for the chase and until your accident, you were bound to be one of the best we ever had. Think about it, the offer is always open.” 

Vi remained quiet this time, the pang of desire she always felt when a new mark came in was already in the pit of her stomach. Ellie was not wrong there was a thrill in being a Hunter, but she couldn’t even begin to figure out how to explain her truths without upsetting one of her partners or both.

“I will keep it in mind, Ellie.” the silence was broken, with ease and grace. The small Elezen picked up her things and then stopped to watch as her friend loosened the arrow that she had been aiming for some time now. Those noises made once again music to Vi’s ears, a shiver rolling down her back from the memories. 

“Good luck catching the bastard, say hello to everyone for me.” Then off she went, Ellie turning to watch her walk away, a small smile on her face for she knew she had planted a thought in Vi’s head. Now what was left was to see how it would bloom. 

[ghostradiodylan]

🎶 On the second day of Christmas The Quarry gave to me two boys in love

And Max Brinly on top of a tree… 🎶

🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄

[Would this have been more festive if I started 12 days BEFORE Christmas and counted down? Absolutely. But it wouldn’t have been accurate. So let’s be festive until Epiphany even though I’m agnostic.]

[Y’all knew my Rylan/Radioheads agenda would be up in here. Also I think it’s so funny that half the time Dylan and Ryan are 6 feet apart because they shot during COVID and nobody on the animation team thought to MOVE THEM CLOSER TOGETHER. But it totally works for my headcanon of how fucking scared they are of being so in love with each other lmao.]

[clustxr]

hi y'all. i know i don't make a lot of original posts here. however, on may 31st, i watched as my friends and peers were brutalized at the hands of cops from departments across california.

edit 6/12/24: students for justice in palestine at uc santa cruz has published a press release. it is easily the best way to understand what happened that night. please take a few minutes to read it.

uc santa cruz police made a statewide call for mutual aid in order to disband the gaza solidarity encampment located at the main entrance of the campus - initially established at the quarry in the center of campus on may 1, it moved to the entrance on may 20 in solidarity with the UAW strike. on tuesday, may 28, protesters barricaded the main entrance, cutting off the primary way of getting on campus; though the western entrance to UCSC was left unblocked (except for a few hours on tuesday), the main entrance remained obstructed until the raid began late on thursday night. this road blockage is what admin cited as the reason for the raid, along with "campus safety" and "academic freedom".

it's important to note that prior to blocking the road, students had been encamped for 28 days, and had been holding peaceful, law-abiding rallies since october. nothing worked. months of following the guidelines that admin had set, and of course student voices were dismissed and ignored by chancellor cynthia larive and cpevc lori kletzer (the latter of whom, by the way, showed up at 6 am "walking her dog" and smiled while watching her students get suffocated and beaten). the escalation would never have happened if student demands had been met at the very beginning.

hundreds of cops in riot gear from as far out as uc davis showed up to abuse students. over 115 arrests were made, including 3 ucsc professors, transported off by buses that were fifteen years past their intended end-of-use date and had also been servicing the campus prior. is this "campus safety"? is this "academic freedom"?

from just before midnight until approximately 9am on friday, cops kettled, suffocated, shoved, yanked, beat, and bruised students. one got a battery charge for writhing and bumping a cop after another slammed him in the head with a baton. another had a bag placed over their head, leading to suffocation, vomiting, and loss of consciousness. at least two protesters were confirmed to go to the ER that morning; many more have had to seek medical attention for lasting injuries.

arrestees were given a 14-day campus ban, including those who live on-campus (functionally evicting them & preventing access to their belongings), not to mention subjected to horrifyingly inhumane conditions:

you can find more information on various instagram accounts such as ucscsjp, ucscdivest, fjpucsc, ucsc_encampment, & jawsucsc. there's plenty of other organizations and people posting about this, too. please, don't let ucsc brush this under the rug. demand amnesty for the arrestees and protesters. contact any ucsc admin you can find. the uc has been utilizing police brutality to repress student voices across their institution, with ucla and uc irvine also being victims of this violence. do not let them get away with it.

free palestine, from the river to the sea. if seeing this violence sickens you, remember that this is not even a fraction of what the people of palestine have been enduring for decades. we will not let the university silence us, no matter what.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Febuwhump - Day 12

Pairing: Dean x reader

Prompt: Semi-Conscious

Warnings: language, head injury

_________

Dean POV

Cuffed in the backseat of Baby on the verge of blacking out was not the way I wanted to spend my Tuesday. If Y/N were the one doing the cuffing and I wasn’t fighting to keep my eyes open, then hell yeah, I’d be all for it. 

Fuck. If I was in the backseat, where was Y/N? 

“How we doing back there?” I shook my head out, swallowing when I saw who was behind the wheel. “I didn’t smack your pretty head too hard did I?”

“Y/N,” I sighed, burrowing my face in the seat. “The witch…crap.”

“Excuse me but she is amazing. She was very enlightening about all the crap I put up with from you. I mean, god, men just suck.”

“A man hating witch and you’re cursed. Perfect,” I grumbled, head pulsing and tempted to just go back to sleep. 

“I am not cursed. I’m fed up with you. You leave your dishes in the sink-”

“I’ve gotten better about that-”

“You never clean-”

“I do all the laundry-”

“You get your pee all over the toilet!”

“That’s just a lie,” I said, forcing myself upright, getting whoozy on the way up and blacking out for a moment. When I flashed open my eyes, she was ranting and raving about the other stereotypical things men didn’t do. 

“-and that’s why I have to push you into the quarry. You had too many chances-” I tuned her out, fumbling with the space between the cushions, grateful to find one of her bobby pins hidden away. Another wave of dizziness hit though, my focus slipping as Y/N drove into the quarry. Shit, how long had a spaced out?

I needed these cuffs off and now.

________

[blueiscoool]

Michelangelo’s ‘David’ Was Carved Out of a Flawed Marble Slab

Two sculptors had tried and failed to chisel something out of the block—until Michelangelo stepped up.

Michelangelo’s David was recognized as a masterpiece the moment it was unveiled. In fact, its commissioners found the sculpture so beautiful, and so massive, that they decided its intended home, high up in the roof of a cathedral, just wouldn’t cut it.

The statue was conceived almost a century before Michelangelo picked up a chisel to create it. In the early 1400s, the Opera del Duomo, the workshop of Florence’s cathedral, began commissioning pieces for a series of 12 massive sculptures depicting prophets from the Old Testament. These would each be housed in niches of the church’s tribune, semi-domed apses in the roofline, over 260 feet high.

In 1464, Agostino di Duccio, a sculptor inexperienced with projects at such a large scale, was commissioned to create the statue. Duccio traveled to a Carrara marble quarry in Tuscany, where he handpicked a giant block of stone. Upon its arrival in Florence after a long, arduous journey, the block was found to be a flop. The hewed hunk of marble was tall but thin and riddled with holes and veins, imperfections both unaesthetic and potentially compromising to the structure of so large a statue.

Realizing his error, Duccio chipped at the stone with his hammers and chisels for a while, but soon gave up on his work. The abandoned wedge of marble went untouched for a decade until another sculptor, Antonio Rossellino, seized the mantle. After some attempts to salvage the work, he, too, deemed the block unusable. It was left naked in the Opera’s courtyard for another 25 years.

Finally, in the summer of 1501, the workshop’s overseers assigned the work to Michelangelo. In just over two years, he transformed the misunderstood marble block into the 17-foot-tall statue that is today one of the most famous artworks in history. At the unveiling, the unexpected size, weight, and beauty of the statue demanded a reshuffling of plans. In 1504, 30 Florentine cultural leaders, including Leonardo da Vinci and Sandro Botticelli, convened to determine David’s fate.

After months of raging debate, it was decided that the statue deserved a spot in the Piazza della Signoria, in front of Florence’s town hall. It took 40 men four days to transport a rope-bound David, caged in wooden scaffolding, from Michelangelo’s workshop to the plaza a half-mile away. Upon arrival, the artist took his chisel to his creation one last time, applying finishing touches. The statue had been designed for viewing from far below; this unexpected setting and perspective required slight modifications.

The statue became quickly known as “the Giant,” a symbol of liberty for the Florentine people, with his glare pointed at their rival city, Rome. Though beloved, the Giant fell victim to vandalism in his first year, when protestors pelted the colossal sculpture with stones. In 1527, a riot against the ruling class broke out in the plaza, and a bench thrown out of a window struck the statue, breaking its arm into three pieces. David went on to survive earthquakes and lightning strikes before the city council decided to protect him.

After almost 370 years, fans and art connoisseurs finally compelled the city to move David into the Galleria dell’Accademia for his protection in 1873; he still stands there today. Even in the confines of the museum, though, David was unsafe. In 1991, a mentally disturbed Italian artist, Pierro Cannata, snuck a hammer into the museum. With it, he lunged at David’s left foot, shattering a toe before being subdued by museum-goers. Cannata claimed that La Bella Nani, a figure from a Veronese painting, compelled him to strike David. Thanks to the attack, David’s beauty is now shielded from jealous hands and hammers by a wall of plexiglass.

By Adnan Qiblawi.

[whencyclopedia]

Child Labour in the British Industrial Revolution

Children were widely used as labour in factories, mines, and agriculture during the British Industrial Revolution (1760-1840). Very often working the same 12-hour shifts that adults did, children as young as five years old were paid a pittance to climb under dangerous weaving machines, move coal through narrow mine shafts, and work in agricultural gangs.

It was very often the case that children's jobs were well-defined and specific to them, in other words, child labour was not merely an extra help for the adult workforce. The education of many children was replaced by a working day, a choice often made by parents to supplement a meagre family income. It was not until the 1820s that governments began to pass laws that restricted working hours and business owners were compelled to provide safer working conditions for everyone, men, women, and children. Even then a lack of inspectors meant many abuses still went on, a situation noted and publicised by charities, philanthropists, and authors with a social conscience like Charles Dickens (1812-1870).

A Lack of Education

As sending a child to school involved paying a fee – even the cheapest asked for a penny a day – most parents did not bother. Villages often had a small school, where each pupil's parents paid the teacher, but attendance was sometimes erratic and more often than not the education rudimentary in hopelessly overcrowded classes. There were some free schools run by charities, and churches often offered Sunday school. Not until 1844 were there more free schools available, such as the Ragged schools established by Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury (1801-1885). These schools concentrated on the basics, what became known as the 3 Rs of Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic. Compulsory education for 5 to 12-year-olds, and the institutions necessary to provide it, would not come along until the 1870s. Consequently, "at least half of nominally school-age children worked full-time during the industrial revolution" (Horn, 57).

Some factory owners were more generous than others to the children in their employ. An example is the Quarry Bank Mill in Styal in the county of Cheshire. Here the owner provided schooling after the long working day was over for 100 of its child workers in a dedicated building, the Apprentice House.

An indicator of better education, despite all the difficulties, is literacy rates, rather imperfectly measured by historians by recording the ability of a person to sign one's name on official documents such as marriage certificates. There was a great improvement in literacy, but by 1800, still only half of the adult population could sign their name to such documents.

For those children who could find work in the Industrial Revolution, and there were employers queueing up to offer it, there were no trade unions to protect them. For the vast majority of children, working life started at an early age – on average at 8 years old – but as nobody really cared about age, this could vary wildly. Working involved at best tedium and at worst an endless round of threats, fines, corporal punishment, and instant dismissal at any protest to such treatment. In one survey taken in 1833, it was found that the tactics used with child labourers were 95% negative. Instant dismissal accounted for 58%. In only 4% of cases was a reward given for good work, and a mere 1% of the strategies used involved a promotion or pay rise.

Continue reading...

[steddieas-shegoes]

take my hand, we'll make it i swear

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is a hand reaching out'

rated m | 2,343 words | cw: blood, injury, temporary character death, nightmares | tags: coming back barely right, post-vecna, realizing feelings, getting together

🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻

Hawkins has been torn apart for eight days. Eddie's been dead for eight days.

Everyone's been mourning for eight days.

A week doesn't seem like a long time until you're in the throes of the world ending and a group of teenagers mourning one of their friends. A week starts to feel like a year when all you've done is cry and hope for any other ending than the one you got.

Steve was just trying to be there for them, be there for the people who didn't run from Hawkins, and somehow still take care of himself. It wasn't going well.

He'd barely slept more than a few hours at a time, and that sleep was anything but restful, nightmares invading his mind from the moment he closed his eyes to the time he woke up in a cold sweat with gory images seared into his brain.

One in particular had happened three times in a row now: Steve was walking in the Upside Down, searching for something but he didn't know what. He'd be surrounded by demodogs and demobats, but none would attack him. He'd keep walking and walking, yelling something he was unable to decipher. Eventually, he'd see a hand sticking out of the ground. A very recognizable hand, one that he'd last seen covered in blood, his rings no longer a shiny metallic, but a dirty and dull gray. When he tried to reach for the hand, it disappeared. He woke up.

And then he pretended he hadn't just had a nightmare about Eddie.

Robin saw through it. She made him talk about it, said the only way to get through it was to talk and actually receive comfort.

But so far, it wasn't helping.

The nightmares got worse.

By day 12, he was convinced Vecna had managed to get into his head.

By day 18, he was so sleep deprived, he started sleep walking. Robin insisted on staying with him to make sure he didn't try to drive or walk into the road or something.

It was bad.

And then suddenly, on day 19, they just. Stopped.

He didn't dream at all. In fact, he slept for nearly seven hours with no movement at all.

Robin figured maybe his body was just so exhausted, it finally gave up on torturing him. He figured she might be right.

But on day 20, things got weird.

He was awake, he knew he was.

He was sitting in his car with the radio on low, staring out at the only place not touched by Vecna and the Upside Down: the quarry.

It was quiet other than the radio, which is why he jumped when the radio suddenly flipped to a different station. White noise filled the car as he tried to put it back to his usual station, but then the car just...shut off.

His keys were still in the ignition, but the car wasn't running.

A technical problem was the last thing he needed right now; All the mechanics had left town and he wasn't very handy with anything except changing a tire.

But then it started up again, the radio on the right station, and nothing seemed to sound or look wrong.

"Okay then," Steve said to himself. He gave it a minute to make sure it wouldn't shut off again before putting it in reverse and leaving the parking area. He could try to take a look at it at home.

But when he got home, Dustin and Mike were in his driveway waiting for him, pacing, looking far too worried.

"Where've you been?" Mike asked.

"We've tried to get you on the walkie for an hour!" Dustin whined.

"I was busy," Steve said. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"El said she felt something," Mike spit out. "She said it's not Vecna, but it's powerful, or at least seems to be."

"Mindflayer?" Steve asked.

"Don't think so. Will didn't feel it."

Steve gestured for them to throw their bikes into his trunk so they could go back to El and find out more of what was going on. He decided not to say anything about the weird incident with his radio for now, wanting to hear what El suspected about things before he worried people for no reason.

When they got to Hopper's cabin, still in quite a bit of disrepair, but livable, El was drinking a glass of water on the couch, pale and eyes constantly moving from person to person.

"Sorry, we had to wait on Steve to get back from whatever he was doing," Mike rolled his eyes as he sat next to El and reached for her hand.

"It is Eddie."

The room was silent as everyone processed what El said.

"It can't be," Hopper said, though softer than he would normally. He knew the kids were still having a hard time. "Steve checked his pulse. Nancy checked his pulse. He lost so much blood. It's-"

"You know better than to say impossible," Joyce spoke up from her spot next to Will. "With everything we've seen, impossible is an impossible word."

"But he wouldn't be human if he was alive. And we couldn't really know if he was on our side," Hopper said to her. "We can't trust anything that comes out of that place, even if they have the face of our friends."

"So you do not trust me?" El asked.

"Or me?" Will asked.

Hopper sighed. "No, that's different."

"It's not that different," Will said. "I was down there for a week and everyone thought I was dead. We all know I have a connection to the place. Eddie may just be like me."

El suddenly stood. "We must go to him. He needs our help."

"El-"

"I am going. Steve?"

Everyone's eyes shot to him, his face turning a bright red.

"You have seen him in your dreams. You know where to find him."

"Uh..."

"You can take me and Hopper to him. I can't see him, I can only sense him."

"Uh." Robin shoved at his shoulder. "Okay, yeah. I can try. But they were just dreams. They might be wrong."

"They are not wrong."

So, despite Steve's promise to himself that he would never go back into the Upside Down without the help of the entire military, Steve held his bat in one hand and El's hand in the other while Hopper walked behind them with a flamethrower ready to go.

He didn't think about where he was going, he just walked.

They had a walkie with them for communication, but told everyone to stay silent unless there was an emergency topside. El assured them there wouldn't be, but she wasn't always right.

Steve felt goosebumps on his skin as they approached a more dense wooded area. If you looked hard enough, you could see the trailer through the trees, but it was unrecognizable, somehow even more dilapidated and gross than the last time they were down here.

El squeezed his hand, but nobody spoke.

They walked further.

It started to feel like one of his nightmares, the darkness and thickness in the air starting to weigh heavy on his chest.

But a small movement caught his eye, and before he could even think it through, he pulled away from El and ran towards it.

A hand.

It was his hand.

Eddie's hand was reaching over a fallen tree, just as bloody and dirty as Steve's nightmares showed.

God, why hadn't he said something to El? Why had he thought they were only nightmares? He knew better.

"Eddie!" Steve said as he cleared the trunk of the tree, nearly landing on Eddie's body. "Shit, Eddie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Steve wasn't think about this being a trap, wouldn't even care if it was. It was Eddie. He was alive, or at least a form of alive that they could get him out of there, and that was the only positive thing that happened for weeks now.

"Steve." Hopper's voice was right behind him, and El was standing just on the other side of the tree. "Back up. He could be dangerous."

"Shut up! He's barely alive, Hop! He needs help."

Steve was working quickly to check over where the injuries looked the worst. But everything seemed healed, all the blood on him dried and some of the smaller bites already scarring over. But he looked incredibly thin, dangerously thin, and there were dark circles under his eyes as his hand started to reach for Steve shakily.

Steve grabbed it, didn't want him doing more than he could handle. "It's okay. You're okay. We're taking you home, okay? I'm not letting you die here again."

"Didn't die the first time, Stevie," he whispered, his lips curling into a smirk.

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh that tried so hard to be a sob. "I guess not, huh?"

"Don't know if I can walk," Eddie said.

Steve looked to Hopper, who gave one small nod.

He turned back to Eddie. "Anything bleeding?"

"No."

"This probably won't be fun."

"What-"

But Steve's arms were under him, lifting him, carrying him before he could finish his question.

"Didn't think you'd sweep me off my feet like this," Eddie joked breathlessly.

"How else would I have?" Steve played along.

Or maybe he wasn't playing. Maybe the reason he couldn't get Eddie out of his head even in his sleep was because there was a connection. Maybe he was here because he actually cared about Eddie, not about the way the kids mourned him. Maybe Robin was right about expanding his horizons.

"I dunno. Kinda figured I'd actually die before you got here."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see me in dreams?"

El was following right behind them, probably listening to everything. Steve nodded as he kept walking the way they came.

"I felt this pull. I dunno how to explain it, man." Eddie coughed and it wracked through his entire body, almost causing Steve to lose his balance. "Sorry. Um, but like, I kept seeing flashes of you. Not anyone else. Just you. And if I thought about you hard enough, I could almost like...sense you?"

"Me? Why me?" Steve looked to El for an explanation.

"I do not know," she replied.

"I thought I was just crazy. Like, the crush I had on you shouldn't be enough to cause this."

"You had a crush on me?"

"Have, present tense, Stevie. Kinda hard not to when you're carrying me out of here like a bride on her wedding day," Eddie's eyes closed as they got closer to the gate in the road they used before. It was the only one marked safe by the entire group. "Hurts."

"What hurts?" Steve ignored everything else for now.

"Everything."

"I'll fix it, okay? Just a bit longer."

Eddie passed out less than a minute later after a whine left his mouth and his hand curled into Steve's shirt against his chest.

******

When he woke up again, Eddie was certain he died for real.

20 days in an alternate dimension puts things into a different perspective.

Steve Harrington was next to him, in a large bed, a bed that was definitely not his in a home that was not his. He wasn't in a hospital, at least not the one in Hawkins.

"Shit, Eds. Hi. Hey." Steve scrambled to sit up as quickly and carefully as possible. "How are you? I mean, obviously not great, but like, does anything hurt more than anything else? Are you bleeding? Shit, I was supposed to check while you slept and didn't."

"Steve. Jesus, man, it's okay." Eddie huffed a laugh. "I feel better than I have in a while."

"Good. That's probably the fluids and drugs we've been pumping into you for two days," Steve smiled apologetically at him, like he had to apologize for taking care of him. "You were out of it when we made it back. Hopper made the kids leave."

"Did I say something?" Eddie had no memory of getting back to... "Where are we?"

"Oh, this is my house. Safest place for you right now. Close enough to everyone if there's an emergency, but far away from where most people who stuck around Hawkins are living that no one will see you." Steve shrugged. "Joyce comes three times a day to check on you. I stick around the rest of the time."

"You've been here for almost two full days just...watching me?" Eddie should be uncomfortable with that, at least a little. But he should be a lot of things that he isn't.

"Making sure you don't die, mostly. Keeping the IV fluids switched around at night. Um, changing the bag," Steve looked down at his lap, face bright red.

Eddie realized exactly what he was talking about the moment he moved. "Jesus Christ. You've changed my pee bags? Just let me die. I can't go on like this."

Steve giggled. "It's not a big deal, Eds. Just part of taking care of you right now. Since you're awake, maybe Joyce can get rid of that on her next visit."

"Maybe she would do me the honor of killing me so I don't die of embarrassment."

"Eddie-"

Something about Steve's voice made him look up.

He reached his hand towards Steve's, suddenly not caring about the embarrassment at all.

"Steve, I'm okay. I promise. My pride may be wounded, but I will survive," Eddie said quietly. "You got me out of there. You did what I needed you to do. You did good."

It was easy to hold hands for the next hour while Steve caught him up on what happened.

It was easy to hold hands when Joyce came by and Eddie experienced more embarrassment at the realization of what she'd have to do to remove the pee bag.

It was even easier to hold hands as they both fell asleep in Steve's bed, finally finding rest without nightmares and without the threat of the Upside Down immediately surrounding them.

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

ao3 | tumblr tag | my writing

short stories include spoilers from a realm reborn to endwalker. all stories are set in aureia malathar's canon. [❤] = fave entry/fic that I am proud of [g] = general (all audiences), [t] = teen (some language, more difficult themes), [m] = mature (implied sex, sensuality, strong language, and/or violence), [e] = explicit (mature themes, explicit sex scenes)

Week I

— 01. Steer | [G] Ryne x Gaia | 943 words — 02. Horizon | [G] Alisaie x Tesleen | 2298 words [❤] — 03. Tempest | [M] Sadu x Y'shtola | 1489 words — 04. Reticent | [G] Minfilia x Aureia | 964 words — 05. Stamp | [T] Fordola x Aureia | 1945 words [❤] — 06. Halcyon | [E] Igeyorhm x Iphigeneia (Azem) | 5424 words — 07. Morsel | [G] Alisaie x Tesleen | 967 words

Week II

— 08. Collapse [FREE DAY] | [T] Thancred POV | 1561 words — 09. Lend an Ear | [T] Aymeric x Aureia | 1617 words — 10. Stable | [T] Sidurgu x Aureia, Rielle | 2086 words [❤] — 11. Surrogate | [E] Thancred x Hilda | 2306 words [❤] — 12. Quarry | [G] Thancred & Ryne | 1408 words [❤] — 13. Butte | [T] Aureia & Avi'li | 820 words — 14. Telling | [T] Aymeric & Artoirel | 1600 words

Week III

— 15. Replacement [FREE DAY] | [G] Emet-Selch POV | 973 words — 16. Third-rate | [G] Lyse & Fordola | 1864 words [❤] — 17. Sally | [T] Rielle POV | 2200 words [❤] — 18. Hackneyed | [G] Thancred x Aureia | 1868 words — 19. Taken | [G] Thancred x Aureia | 1219 words — 20. Duel | [G] Alisaie & Aureia | 2189 words — 21. Shade | [M] Sidurgu x Aureia | 2015 words [❤]

Week IV

— 22. Threshold [FREE DAY] | [M] Aymeric x Aureia | 1273 words [❤] — 23. On Cloud Nine | [E] Aymeric x Aureia | 2504 words — 24. Bar | [E] Fordola x Aureia | 1522 words [❤] — 25. Perpetuity | [T] Hythlodaeus & Iphigeneia (Azem) | 1589 words — 26. Zip | [G] Thancred POV | 1294 words — 27. Memory | [T] Meteion & Aureia | 2135 words [❤] — 28. Deleterious | [G] Venat & Iphigeneia (Azem) | 1409 words — 29. Evaporate | [E] Thancred x Aureia | 2010 words — 30. Two Heads Are Better Than One | [M] Sidurgu x Aureia | 2795 words

[andromaqves]

Celebrating October with prompts for 31 days of The Quarry!

Low energy, purely for fun... pick your fave word for the day or work them all into a new or existing work, whatever appeals to you. Just have fun and hopefully get inspired to create more for this world!

Thanks @ghostradiodylan for being my sounding board after I got possessed by this idea tonight <3

1. claw / cabin / cards 2. stab / shoot / safe 3. hag / hunger / Hackett 4. lake / lodge / leader 5. gun / gift / ghost 6. bruise / bear / bargain 7. rot / rabid / regret 8. puncture / promise / protect 9. choke / chainsaw / cage 10. radio / rage / red 11. motel / memory / morgue 12. haunt / heart / haven 13. casualty / choice / chase 14. fury / fall / flames 15. teeth / taken / torn 16. shock / selfish / scar 17. bandage / bury / bullet 18. monster / mistake / murder 19. curse / challenge / campfire 20. bitter / balance / bone 21. heavy / hostile / hurt 22. punch / prey / pursue 23. infect / interfere / instinct 24. animal / admire / attack 25. spirit / survive / saint 26. flight / fool / favor 27. predator / plead / party 28. witness / witch / wager 29. hunt / hand / harm 30. worry / wolf / wind 31. bite / bleed / break

Tag with #31 days of the quarry if you feel like sharing!

[supersmashsoni]

An idea for another Brenner Era Season

1. Haulage Capacity: When an old haulage wagon Skarloey used back in the early days is restored by the Earl, Peter Sam gets the chance to ride it and enjoys it. Trouble ensues when he forgets to mind his limits when he tries to help a broken-down Henry to the next station.

2. Edward and the Express: When Gordon fails, Edward is given the Express despite the big engine’s protests. Edward tries his best, but a faulty coupling might spoil his chances.

3. Alfie to the Rescue: Alfie feels left out when the rest of the Pack gets to help with a spring celebration. He gets his chance to shine when Thomas has an accident.

4. BoCo’s New Driver: BoCo gets a new driver, but he quickly proves to be rude and inexperienced, ending with the diesel being sent down to Brendam by mistake. The driver tries to improve for the better, but BoCo struggles to accept it.

5. Sticking it to Percy After an argument with Henry, Percy intentionally gives him a heavy train as a prank. This plan backfires when the small engine has to take the train himself after Henry is delayed.

6. Mavis and the Trolls Mavis tries to spook Toby with a story about trolls cleaning up the quarry at night. Toby winds up turning the prank against her when he takes Sir Topham Hatt on a late-night visit to collect some rocks for a garden.

7. May the Best Engine Win!: Thomas and Emily have a friendly competition to see who will get their work done quicker. Things seem neck-and-neck until one of Emily’s loads spills at a sharp bend.

8. Nia's Perfect Plan When Nia is given several jobs, she comes up with a plan to get it all done on time. When the plan starts to fall apart though, she stubbornly sticks to it.

9. Leave After the Bluebell!: The engines are excited when Stepney is due to visit the island again after a long overhaul and hold a welcome party for him. Stepney however winds up nearly missing his own party when he offers to cover Norman’s work after the diesel fails at Vicarstown.

"The Festive Season" DVD:

10. Hannah and the Avalanche: Hannah finds herself bored by the care Toby and Henrietta take during winter and decides to travel with Thomas instead for some excitement. She learns to be careful what she wishes for when Thomas accidentally brings snow down at Hackenbeck Tunnel, burying Hannah.

11. Can He Handel It?: Sir Handel starts taking heavier stone trains to finish his goods work earlier. This mixed with a blizzard spells disaster.

12. Gordon's Christmas Special Gordon is put in charge of a special Christmas train but will have to miss spending Christmas with his friends. This results in Gordon having a nasty argument with the other engines when he suggests he doesn't want to. Scotsman may have a way to make things right.

13. Spencer’s Snowslide: After Rebecca gets covered in snow at Crovan’s Gate, Spencer teases her insufferably. He eats his own words when he slides into a blockage at a tunnel.

14: Coal Competition: Max and Monty compete to deliver the most coal one winter. This leads to an embarrassing accident with Trevor and his cart when Monty doesn’t watch where he is going.

Back to normal episodes:

15: Norman Mixes it Up: Norman tries to prove he is more than his faulty engine through helping out the other engines with their work. He winds up accidently having to do several jobs at once, leading to him pulling one of the strangest mixed trains the Island’s ever seen.

16: Bad to the BoCo: Jealous of all the praise BoCo receives, Diesel challenges the big diesel to a strength competition. BoCo is reluctant to take part but does so accidentally when he accidentally takes the train Diesel put together for the competition…with Diesel still at the other end!

17: Bulgy and the Twins: While helping out around Edward’s branchline, Bulgy tries to cause trouble for the engines. He soon runs afoul of Bill and Ben, who trick him into trying to appease a transportation inspector.

18: Holding Your Buffers: Stanley assumes the famous Stepney is used to being pampered on the mainland and tries to give him the same on Sodor, unaware Stepney is annoyed with his overbearingness and losing the chance to do real work again. Things come to a head when Stanley tries to take a passenger train for a delayed Stepney.

19: Read All About It: Frank, the Small Railway’s new diesel, feels left out after learning that the other engines were in a book and accidently hits the back of the shed in anger. He redeems himself when Rex has steaming issues, and Frank comes to the rescue.

20: Rosie’s Passengers: Rosie is asked to cover for Thomas, but her overeagerness leads to her accidentally beating Percy to the junction and she winds up going to Knapford Harbor by mistake.

"Summer at the Seaside" DVD

21: Terri-ing Them Apart: A new engine named Terri, and her snarky brake van Clarice, arrive to help Ryan and Daisy on the Harwick Branchline. After a near miss, Ryan mistakes Terri’s generally nervous nature for her being afraid of him and he tries to make amends, which only stresses Terri out more.

22: Only I in Team: Frank grumbles about having to clean up after the other small engines. He winds up being truer than he thinks when a drought leads to the steam engines being taken out of service, leaving Frank to handle the railway by himself.

23: Terri and the Trucks: Terri’s timid nature makes her an easy target for the troublesome ballast trucks. The Scottish Twins give her advice to keep the trucks in line, but she overestimates the effectiveness of their methods, leading to a tense struggle up Gordon’s Hill.

24: Clarice and James: Clarice is rather impulsive and enjoys picking a fight. This leads to chaos when James has to take over one of Terri’s trains, and Clarice decides to taunt the red engine. The two's bickering soon leads to trouble.

25: Perfect Porter: When Porter covers for Philip at Tidmouth, he decides to rearrange the shunting arrangements to be closer to what he thinks is perfect. This leads to chaos when the other engines can’t make sense of the new organization system.

26: Skiff and the Dolphins: Skiff discovers a group of dolphins living around Arlesburgh. However, when some hunters try to illegally catch them, Skiff tries to save them.

[ghostradiodylan]

🎶 On the third day of Christmas The Quarry gave to me…

Three blood-drenched men,

Two boys in love,

and Max Brinly on top of a tree! 🎶

🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄🐻🎄

[hedwig123]

Ranking The Quarry Counselor Outfits By Late-August Practicality

OK, so. This has been bugging me. I blame SMG's British-ness for this, but so many of the counselors' outfits are just... ridiculous for late August.

(Apparently the weather in the area- West Kill, NY- that day was a high of 75, a low of 68, and humidity was 100 FUCKING PERCENT. So. My concerns are not unfounded.)

So now I'm going to rank all the character outfits by how likely I think it is that normal human people would put them on during the latter half of August, tyyyyyyyy

Excluding Max & Laura because the only time they got to pick their own outfits was June- which, still not great, but. I'll let it slide. Also excluding Emma's overalls, because again, she didn't pick them.

So of the other 21 AUGUST outfits:

21. Nick's 80s Outfit

Dead fucking last is the letterman jacket. Aesthetically it looks cool, and I want to give it bonus points for being a Matt Taylor reference, but I can't. That's a coat. A coat, SMG.

20. Jacob's Modern Outfit

First can I just say how weird it is that Jacob doesn't have a single 360 look uploaded? In ANY of his outfits???

Anyway. This was going to be a little higher because I thought he was wearing a sweatshirt, but looking at it in the close-up that is a fucking sweater. NO!!!!!

19. Nick's 50s Outfit

That is just a full-on nearly-cable-knit sweater. The only reason it ranks above Jacob is that it's at least not visibly layered. But still.

18. Abi's 50s Outfit

Listen, I love that they made Blygbank into Velma & Daphne as much as the next person, but Abi's still wearing a turtleneck in August. They couldn't at least shorten the sleeves? Or pair it with shorts?

17. Emma's Modern Outfit

OK, so I love this outfit out of context. But. Even as a crop-top. It is a turtleneck sweater. With jeans, no less! Jeans, no less!

16. Kaitlyn's Modern Outfit

Why the layers. Why. It's cute, sure, but August.

15. Dylan's 80s Outfit

I'm told this is a rugby shirt, which people do play some sports in. So it's almost passable. But the slacks... the sleeves... the shoes...

14. Ryan's Modern Outfit

Again, almost passable. The shirts look thin, even if there's two of them. But the two shirts combined with the skinny jeans & shoes would just... suffocate him :(

13. Abi's 80s Outfit

This outfit is awesome, but not pictured here are the COMBAT BOOTS SHE'S WEARING ON HER FEET.

No.

12. Dylan's 50s Outfit

OK, listen.

Listen.

I love this outfit. You love this outfit. That shirt was made for him.

But the pants!!!

11. Jacob's 50s Outfit

T-shirt good. Pants BAD.

10. Ryan's 50s Outfit

Same as Jacob's 50s outfit, the shirt is fine. The WOOL PANTS are a no.

9. Ryan's 80s Outfit

This one is almost acceptable. Despite the dark colors, the material looks light. The shoes are OK (not great, but OK). The t-shirt is perfect!

But the vest. The vest. Does he look good in it? Of course. But NOBODY ADDS LAYERS IN AUGUST!

8. Emma's 80s Outfit

We have reached the Acceptable Eight.

I love this outfit. Really the only things putting it at the bottom of the top 8 are the lipstick and the socks, which like... who cares? But these things have to be considered for the ranking.

7. Nick's Modern Outfit

There's nothing wrong with this outfit. The only thing putting it at 7 is the sleeve length, but. It's fine. It's acceptable.

Leagues better than his other 2 outfits.

6. Emma's 50s Outfit

This outfit is great. The shoes are light. The pants are open on the side. The shirt is cropped and tied off!

Only thing edging it out of the Top 5 is the scarf. It's cute, I love Daphne!Emma with my whole heart, but it would get hot.

5. Kaitlyn's 80s Outfit

5th through 2nd place was a toss-up. They're all perfectly appropriate August attire.

This one's great. The jeans are light wash and ripped at the knees. The polo is perfect. The only thing that might give me pause are the converse but honestly??? They're fine too.

4. Abi's Modern Outfit

This outfit's great too! The only counselor outfit with shorts besides #1. The tights don't bother me, they look very light and breathable. 10/10 good job modern Abi!!! (Give 50s Abi some tips she's gonna die of heatstroke)

3. Dylan's Modern Outfit

Another great choice. Light t-shirt, skinny jeans that aren't too tight, and vans. ✨10/10 great job Dylan✨

2. Kaitlyn's 50s Outfit

THOSE ARE OPEN-TOE SHOES I REPEAT THEY ARE OPEN-TOE SHOES THIS IS NOT A DRILL

ONE FUCKING CHARACTER GOT SHOES THAT OPEN AT THE DAMN TOES

I don't even care that it's just a peep toe, I'm fucking counting it

Jacob's 80s Outfit

Was there ever any doubt?

Honorable mention goes to:

Nakey Jakey. Honorable mention only because he didn't reeeeeeally pick it as an OUTFIT outfit.

But still.

[autumnslance]

LynMars's FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

We're back again! The list and links for all of my completed prompts for this year's FFXIV Write. Stats and ramblings about writing will go under the Read More cut. Eventually these will be revised in some manner and tossed onto Ao3.

Asterisks again mean there's wolship nonsense happening.

01. Steer - Vignettes of less sociable times over Aeryn's life. 02. Horizon - WoL at the end of Ultima Thule, EW 6.0. 03. Tempest - WoL returns to Amaurot to contemplate, EW 6.4. 04. Reticent - C'oretta & Dark Autumn have a chat. Sort of. 05. Stamp - Aeryn finds a memento while cleaning, post-EW 6.0 06. Halcyon - Tanzel, Emelia, & understanding grief. Backstory. 07. Morsel - Zenos heading to Camp Broken Glass, EW 6.0. 08. Free Day! 09. Lend an Ear - Emperor Varis is very much alone. StB patches. 10. Stable - Hydaelyn as the avatar of Light. Endwalker. 11. Surrogate - Weird West AU. Unexpected new roles for the Strikers. 12. Quarry* - Dominants AU. Thavnair comes to Tural's aid. DT 7.0. 13. Butte - Dark Autumn versus seedkin in Xak Tural. DT 7.0. 14. Telling - WoL reflects on Emet-Selch's expected reaction. EW 6.0. 15. Free Day! 16. Third-Rate - Aeryn's annoyed by the Unbound. DT Role Quests. 17. Sally - Dark pays a final visit to a traitor, post-StB 4.1. 18. Hackneyed* - Aeryn, Thancred, & terrible literature. 19. Taken - A young wood warder tries to save his sibling. Backstory. 20. Duel - Wuk Lamat's challenge does not go as expected. DT 7.0. 21. Shade - WoL ruminates on some of their ghosts. Thru DT 7.0. 22. Free Day! 23. On Cloud Nine - A chocobo & her Warrior of Light. End ShB 5.0. 24. Bar - 2 different adventurers starting out. Legacy & ARR. 25. Perpetuity - Aeryn, Deryk, & questions of faith. EW 24man raid. 26. Zip - C'oretta helping out Hamon at the Coliseum. Technically DT. 27. Memory - In a future, music makes Iyna remember. EW Patches. 28. Deleterious - Aeryn & Shale discuss regulators & history. DT 7.0. 29. (Free) Deleterious 2* - Thancred & self-recrimination. ShB 5.0. 30. Two Heads are Better than One - Gulool Ja Ja muses. DT 7.0.

Previous years: 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023

Ended up a touch Aeryn-heavy this year, though Generic WoL, various NPCs, the other OCs, forays in the FC's AUs, and some supporting family cast members make appearances. There's even a callback to a previous FFXIV Write entry. Lots of Endwalker and Dawntrail due to recency bias, but it manages to span the spectrum from backstories through various expansions.

I only did 1 Free Day, due to having 2 solid ideas I ended up writing for that prompt. It was right at the end of my annual birthday vacation week, so I was pretty rested (may also be why they're among the longer entries!). Unusually, the rest of that week's works are not any longer than the others.

I'm also still working on some original writing, though, so that did cut into fanfiction time.

Below 500 words: #2 Horizon (347), #3 Tempest (415), #7 Morsel (499), #10 Stable (400), #13 Butte (477), #14 Telling (355), #17 Sally (464), #20 Duel (499), #24 Bar (462).

500 - 1,000 words: #1 Steer (944), #4 Reticent (581), #5 Stamp (588), #11 Surrogate (964), #12 Quarry (844), #16 Third-Rate (564), #18 Hackneyed (577), #19 Taken (915), #21 Shade (764), #23 On Cloud Nine (728), #25 Perpetuity (958), #26 Zip (592), #27 Memory (810), #30 Two Heads are Better than One (500).

Over 1,000 words: #6 Halcyon (2,479), #9 Lend an Ear (1,326), #28 Deleterious (1,099), #29 Deleterious 2 (1,231).

Shortest: #2 Horizon Longest: #6 Halcyon

Total: 20,382 words. Not my shortest but far from my longest. Comparing with the previous years, I can see a clear improvement in my grasp of both NPC and OC voices, and more confidence in general.

Even so, "Butte", "Sally", "Bar", and "Zip" were the hardest for me this year, and I may need to warm up to them. I love "Halcyon" for a lot of reasons, and am also fond of the lighter offerings in "Duel" and "On Cloud Nine." I like a lot of the others, particularly when trying to get into NPC heads (even if they're really weird places to be ffs, Zenos).

Not too many shippy entries this year, one of them for one of the AUs, one mostly talking about it rather than seeing it, but I like "Hackneyed" a lot as it's been awhile since I've written about Aeryn & Thancred's literary tastes (and opposite ways of treating their books).

These will eventually be revised and added to Ao3, and then we await next year!

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #12: A Rescue!

Prompt: quarry || Master Post || On AO3

---

Hunting with a trio of carbuncles is a fascinating experience. Well, it’s really one carbuncle with two more mostly learning under her direction, but Aymeric’s point still stands.

Galette, of course, takes point: finest nose and aethersense on three continents, after all. Roksana slides after her, reminding Aymeric strongly of a seal moving on an iceflow, the faintest chime of her giggles echoing in the back of his mind. Amandina lay draped over his left shoulder, too big now to perch on it, humming something Aymeric was fairly sure he’d heard from Rereha a time or two as she snuck around. Aymeric, of course, is at the rear, ostensibly serving as lookout but more accurately just enabling.

Galette’s ears twitch, and immediately they all pause; Aymeric, mid-stride, very gently eases his foot onto the floor. Roksana’s ears and tails go flat, and now she really does look like a seal.

Ivar wanders out of the library, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth and slowly disappearing as he chews and swallows it. He pauses, then turns to stare at them.

Aymeric grins. The twins valiantly attempt to not giggle and are mostly successful. Galette just stares with all the gravitas of being the eldest sibling.

My family is so weird, Ivar grumbles, and walks past them towards the kitchen.

Says the pyromaniac, Galette mutters. Ivar’s tails lash out of the corner of Aymeric’s eye, but the ruby carbuncle, for once, doesn’t raise to take his sister’s bait.

Galette turns back to the matter at hand, peering into the library. Roksana eels across the floor to poke her head under Galette’s. Aymeric leans forward, as does Amandina.

Synnove sits her desk, head bowed and propped up by one hand, a faint frown barely visible on her face. She is tapping her stylus against the desk, tappa-tappa-tap-tap, and stacks of papers sits on either side of her.

It was mid-afternoon, and his lady had been grading papers since just after breakfast. This intervention is necessary.

Galette flicks her right ear, and Aymeric carefully eases his way into the library along the righthand wall. The heavy rug there is able to muffle footsteps, and the floorboards beneath it aren’t prone to creaks from large footsteps the way the ones to the left are. Another flick of Galette’s ear, and a breeze begins to blow in through the open window, further disguising the presence of anyone else in the room.

Amandina begins her humming again. Roksana, unable to glide along on carpet, belly crawls instead, following after Galette as they go opposite along the wall from Aymeric and Amandina.

Aymeric ilms his way along the wall, until the right angle turn that allows him to begin his approach from behind Synnove.

His lady is still tapping her style rhythmically, but the frown has become a sly little grin.

Oh, well.

He swoops forward, and Synnove pushes her chair back just enough to give him clearance to lift her without banging her knees or shins against the desk. His lady still lets out a playful shriek, and he settles her in his arms with smug satisfaction.

“My lady,” Aymeric says in his poshest voice, “you while the day away in shadow and labor, when the sun shines brightly and the flowers dance in the breeze. How dare you squander Hydaelyn’s gifts?”

Synnove laughs, her breath briefly punting out of her in a wheeze as Amandina tumbles from his shoulder to land in her lap with a Hi, Mommy! “Oh, woe,” his lady says in her best mimicry of him, “I am but a slave to the needs of my masters! Whomever shall save me from my labors and show me the joys of the wider world?”

She tilts her head up, green eyes twinkling, and Aymeric lowers his head so they may exchange a sweet kiss.

Have no fear, Mama! Galette says, hopping onto the desk, with Roksana after her. She pauses, taking a moment to reach down and scruff her baby sister to help her up. That done, she continues, I have found a brave knight to bring you to the sun, and all the glories that await!

Synnove turns to stare at her eldest, a wry grin ticking across her face. “Got some pastries from Red Rooster Stead, didn’t you?”

YES, now let’s GO.

Galette picks Roksana up—Roksana now almost too big for it, but the white pearl carbunclet obediently tucks her arms and legs and tails close to make it easier—and leaps down, trotting imperiously towards the door to make her way to the patio. Synnove and Aymeric both laugh, and Aymeric presses a kiss to his lady’s hair as he follows after, prize safely in hand.

[idalenn]

Day 12 - Quarry

Following victory over the primal Titan, the Warrior of Light and fellow Scions set out to celebrate. (2.0)

Major characters: Warrior of Light, Thancred, Y'shtola Note: Bit of MtF angst in this one.

Full text below the cut

“In the presence of good company and pleasant song, I find myself growing rather bored with the idea of sitting and demand a change of pace, as it were. These Lominsan bones desire a dance, and a drink or partner on each hand.” With a wink, Thancred tilted back his head and upended the tankard, pulling down what remained of the ale in two swigs. “As it so happens,” he gasped, “I’ve no drinks, but two suitable partners to choose from.”

“Really, now?” Y’shtola’s eyes only flicked up from her book as his tankard clattered back onto the table. “One brush with mortality was not enough for you?”

“My dear Y’shtola, have you intent to wound me?”

“Only should your intentions include separating my hindquarters from this chair will you face injury; by tome or inability to maneuver two right feet.”

“All is well. Scorn only fuels this roguish heart, and reaffirms my decision to whom I would first proffer my hand. Sadly, my cattish friend, ‘twas not our time this night.” He turned to Lillian instead who was hurriedly dunking a torn crust of bread into her soup. “Our lady of the hour should have the first dance.”

Raising her mask just enough to expose her mouth, she bit into the hot, dripping bread, soup running down her chin across skin and scar. Garlic, shallots, popotoes, ham…pepper, she thought… and other green leaves not quite identifiable by sight. A multitude of flavors danced upon her burning tongue. She sucked up the drops wetting her gloves so fish and butter from the previous course entered the mixture. Her tongue darted out to catch the droplets at the corners of her lips.

Trencher in hand, she ripped another hunk from the black-dusted bread for introduction into the soup, the popotoes softened enough by the heat for pressing into the grain until resembling a chunky paste to be topped with strips of pink ham. Relish radiated up into the tips of her ears and down her charcoal length of tail, wagging like a hound’s as it welcomed home the hunter.

His voice meandered down her twitching ear; the question slowed her chewing until her jaw hung open. The trencher’s last half slipped from her grasp and landed on the table with a solid thunk.

Was I just asked to dance? Surely it was some mistake. Y’shtola was, after all, right in front of him, and the Mizzenmast was full to bursting with patrons mid-celebration.

“You do recall her accompanying the van into Titan’s abode, do you not?”

“My, my – that old adage holds truth for you as well. ‘Miqo’te of a certain fur will together purr’ as I remember. Such sweet concern from you is altogether foreign to my ears, but lovely as I’d believed it would be.”

“Tis not concern I urge, but to remind. We have, all of us, survived the day’s excitements relatively unscathed. Some would prefer to enjoy a modicum of peace while they have it.”

“Perhaps I shall ask her.”

“Perhaps you should. I am not her keeper nor seeker, nor am I yours.”

“A pity, but I shall await any change in disposition, nonetheless.”

Thancred snatched Lillian’s hand before she could retrieve the bread and pulled her to standing, a yelp escaping around her full mouth. Her free hand yanked the mask roughly back down. Too hard. She tilted her head down to peer through one crooked eyehole, chewing faster, hoping to get a word in, and saw she was being led into the jubilant press, and the chew turned into a rattle. Turning to look at her – presumably over the chattering of teeth – Thancred returned a smile, bright and victorious, if a little smug, before pulling her toward him into an embrace, the crowd swallowing them both in a sea of bodies. One hand deftly slipped around her waist. The other kept her hand in his own. His white crop of hair tickled against the scars marring her throat. As the mouthful of food traveled down in a hard lump, she for a moment feared it would bump against Thancred’s head.

“This is not a strength of mine,” she panted. “Dancing, I mean.”

“As is strangely the case, I’ve found, with every woman of exceptional stature.” Thancred laughed, his fingers twiddling against her own, warm and riddled with knife-borne callouses. “But, since you are so in need, this once I will be the one to lead.”

She tried to laugh also. All was distracting: the people, the music, the danger of crushing Thancred’s foot, where to place her eyes; high so she avoided bumping heads with Roegadyn and Elezen, or low to avoid gifting any Lalafell a noseful of knee?

Some gyrated their hips, others flailed their arms while hopping on one leg, a few slipped around with fluid motions, bodies like ripples in tumultuous water. Stiff-armed and dipping low to kick out legs. Held up by partners to avoid the restrictions of being bound to the earth. From where would they begin when every style was unique?

“For a start, you should place that hanging arm about my shoulder.” Her arm lay flat at her side, limp like a dead snake. Under the mask her face flushed hot; not that he or anyone else would see, of course. And it’s probably for the best.

“And if I were in your position, about to be taught by an eminent instructor, it would be most pertinent if I were capable of, how I should I say this…observing?” His hand separated from hers and traveled up to the mask taking the chin between thumb and forefinger. “May I?” he asked. Once her neck tensed, he rotated the mask to the proper place with a quick tug. “Good, now I can meet both those golden eyes, much as I’d prefer the mask’s absence. What lies beneath must be a valuable indeed if needing to be kept constantly guarded away from us all.”

Lillian blinked dumbly. A brief sensation grazed the underside of her chin while his hand was outstretched; light; faint; an ember of a wizened, crumbling dream to arouse her heart. And lower, too. Thancred chuckled as she worried into the arm around her waist, but he allowed the gap between their bodies to live.

“Now, my homely, towering maiden, unless you wish to bash aside everyone present, try to imitate my movements as though I were your reflection in the looking glass.” He urged Lillian forward, his movements slow, methodical, and – most importantly – easy for her to follow, steering together through the press by manipulating her arm like a ship’s rudder.

One foot here, another there. Turn this way. Step toward me, now away, and now back. Spin. Canter forward with loud stomps, half-step, weight on the heel and pivot right – I’ll catch you.

Faster. With gusto, but keep your hand in mine. And now. We. Leap! Excellent, but watch the tail. My shin can only endure so much punishment. Turn, turn, turn as if caught in a waterspout – a twister, then, if your Gridanian imagination will permit. You picked that up quicker than I’d hoped.

Sweat rolled down her temples and beaded along her upper lip, gathered in the creases between nose and cheek and in the valleys of her scars. Exhaling was the enemy, Thancred’s praise’s only pushing the temperature further into the unbearable. Her face moistened with humidity only found in tropical storms, and she was growing acutely aware of the rising bog in her gloves that would escape down their arms if she raised her hand even slightly.

“You truly have not danced before?” he asked between directions.

“A little,” she breathed, swallowing air, “When I –” An ache in her cheek stopped her; the limit of words fast approaching. “Younger.” Single-word responses wouldn’t overtax the already-aching scars on her face.

“All that lost time. I tremble to think how long exactly given the hesitancy you’ve displayed against giving us proper answers. If not for Y’shtola tempering the Scions to more reclusive sorts, well, Minfilia might have seen to task me with wheedling the answers from you myself.” Lillian’s head whipped to face him. “Now don’t give me that look, I’ll have you know I would have been the kindest thought extractor you’d ever had the fortune to deal with.” He gave her hand a rough squeeze. “What say you to upping the complexity?”

“Joy,” she said.

That gave Thancred pause. His eyes ran her over until settling on the wobble in her legs. “Perhaps Y’shtola did have the right off it after all. My apologies for the haste. Hopefully you’ll forgive this bard his inclinations for merriment in the face of wonderous company.”

“Forgiven. Table.”

Thancred’s arm slid around her back to provide support, grunting as Lillian’s towering weight bent him low. Returning through the raucous press now seeming a single mass of heads and limbs she left up to him. Little will for the task did she possess still, but the Archon was a trained hand. Navigating the sea of bodies appeared second nature to him. It must have been no more difficult than swimming. Lillian would drown if she tried on her own.

 A curious sight greeted them both when they finally broke through the crowd. Beside Y’shtola buried in her book sat another: a Miqo’te toying with a necklace not unlike a collar about her neck, gem the color of night in place of the loop for a leash. One of the Mizzenmast’s serving girls – if the red doublet, fraying black rag containing a mane of golden hair, and skirt long enough to barely conceal a Lalafell’s legs were any evidence. Three full tankards sat on the table beside her. One foot tapped impatiently on the stones as if she were waiting for someone, anyone; any at all capable of pulling themselves away from a book. As she caught sight of the approaching pair, the girl sprung to her feet and swiftly bowed, her face alight with joy when she came back up.

Y’shtola pointed a finger at the new arrival. “Thancred, I believe this one waits for you.”

“Does she now?” Surprise registered on his face for only a moment before a sultry grin took hold. Lillian felt herself lifted higher as his back straightened. “I – I must say this is a pleasant surprise. Only earlier had I jested of a companion on each arm and now a second arrives, and bearing gifts I might add.”

“She possessed a name as well, I believe,” Y’shtola added, “but pray, forgive me. I was too distracted by half when first it was mentioned.”

“Pay no attention to our bookwyrm acquaintance here.” Thancred helped lower Lillian into her seat before turning back to the girl. “Only moldy tomes can hold her attention, but you will be delighted to know such failings are unpossessed be me – the one so cordially referred to as Thancred, thank you – particularly with one so pretty as yourself.” The serving girl giggled, one hand at her ample chest, voice bubbly and so sweet as to drive one’s teeth itching. She was, unfortunately, by opinion of anyone with eyes, quite pretty. Thancred stepped closer mirroring her gesture, his hand surreptitiously unfastening one button at his neck in the blink of an eye to expose a puffed chest. “And you would be called?”

“I am Lavinia, if it pleases you, but she is right in that I have waited for your return.” Her head dropped, angular ears flattening to her head, and she stepped even closer to Thancred before returning her eyes to his. “Will you share in dance with me as well?”

“I believe I still have some reserve of vitality to draw upon for such an occasion. That is,” he said aloud, “if none present have any objections.”

“You will hear none from the ‘cattish friend’.” Y’shtola replied.

Thancred rolled his eyes. “Never one to be outstripped in timely responses,” he muttered before returning his attention to the serving girl. “So long as your absence will go without grievance. Becoming the target of wrathful seamen promised refreshment would dampen this evening ever so.”

He held out an arm for Lavinia’s taking. Batting kohled lashes, she accepted the offered limb into her hands. Thin little things, thought Lillian. Easily bruised like Lominsan apples, lithe and gainly; they cut a snug fit inside Thancred’s own. Her tail, furred in cloud-like fluff, swished back and forth against his leg with each step.

Probably feels soft as cotton.

Nearing the edge of the sea of flesh Lavinia turned to Thancred, arched toes granting extra ilms to reach his ear, some indistinguishable promise written on her lips that summoned a triumphant flash to his face. He’d been pulled closer: his arm now rested in the nook where bosom flowed into underarm, held by a starving animal – his own appetite unsatiated.

Before long they were gone, tumescence having spirited bard and serving girl into the chill of night.

Lillian shook with a feeling she did not wish to name, the cold emptiness of her chest prickling against the grey of her robes, fur along her tail’s length rising to needlepoints. The trencher became the target of her cruelty. Some satisfaction was found tearing into the bread while imagining it as those fragile hands, their covering stretched paper thin over the skeleton, those hands that had never held belief of their own incongruity.

“Fallen for his charm, have you?”

Lillian halted her shredding to find Y’shtola brushing crumbs from the tome’s pages, a strained line where her mouth should have been. “Hardly the first, and far from last – he exudes allure with nary a thought given for restraint. You would do well not to let reach his ear our Warrior of Light has been made available quarry, lest his ego grow unbearable.”

Looking up to discover Lillian’s head ducked to her chest, she let slip a sigh, deciding instead to stretch across the table to push the fullest tankard within easy reach.