#Great Lakes Viper

[living-in-a-fantasia]

-> Character Lineup - 2

-> Gods;

----------------------------------------------

Info under the cut

Endioniv - Protector of the stars and galaxies, responsible for keeping them safe from unclaimed magic and the wrath of entities

Athena Crow - Goddess of Death and Freedom (Blithe's Firstmate, former Captain).

Renae - Goddess of the Harvest, of Plants and Fruits.

Saja - Titan Goddess, Protector of Nature and all its creatures. Creator of most mythological creatures.

Constance - Goddess of the Water and the Oceans.

[herpsandbirds]

Great Lakes Bush Viper aka Nitsche’s Bush Viper (Atheris nitschei), female, family Viperidae, found in forests of the Albertine Rift of central Africa

Venomous.

photograph by Dick Bartlett

[usafphantom2]

#TomcatTail

#TomcatTuesday

That Time at Top Gun I Got Jumped by an F-5

Disclaimer: This #TomcatTail occurred almost 30 years ago and while I’ve got the lion’s share of the details correct, there may be a few errors but not in anything substantive to the story. Sorry, I’m old.

Getting selected to attend Top Gun in March of 1995 was pretty cool. Back in those days, TG was still at NAS Miramar so a good bit of training occurred in the Top Gun hangar and out over the water off San Diego. Other elements of training involved training ranges near El Centro/Yuma, Fallon, Nevada and China Lake, CA (emitter hop). All in all it was a great experience but it did have a couple “others”.

First, both the selected pilot and RIO are supposed to be cruise qualified, having done a deployment as they would likely become Pilot and RIO training officers after they graduated. Unfortunately, the luck of the draw had it that a non-cruise-experienced RIO got the nod to attend with me which made it just a bit more challenging. No dig on my RIO, it’s a really hard thing for anyone to do, but it made for some extra work on me in a learning environment.

The second “other” – and I know you aviators out there will be shaking your head in recognition – was that when I went through there was a HUGE budget problem in the flying hour program: not enough money for gas (when is there, right??). My CO’s solution was to only partially fill all the jets for each flight (internal fuel only) and NOT fill the drop tanks. Your normal fuel load of 20,000 pounds was reduced to 16,000 pounds (yes, 20% reduction). Not my favorite CO, BTW. I asked “can I at least take the drop tanks off so I don’t have the drag penalty?”, his answer was, in a word, “no.” D*ck. Any other classmates have this problem? Nope. Double D*ck.

That was my challenge all the way through Top Gun; an inexperienced RIO (still love him like a brother) and a 20% fuel penalty for every flight. My RIO got better pretty quickly and generally rose to the occasion, and for my part (having always been a Friend of Maintenance or FOM) I managed to often times sweet talk the Sailors fueling the jet to “accidentally” fill up the drops. I always had a great relationship with Sailors (my Dad was Enlisted before he became a Naval Aviator), so it wasn’t that hard to get ‘em to help me out on occasion.

It was a pretty lengthy syllabus (I counted 28 hops in my logbook just now) with your standard “small to big” training focus. 1v1s, 2v2s, 4v4s, the infamous “Flanker Hop” against high alt/high speed Vipers, threat emitters at China Lake, and Strike missions around Fallon, Nevada. The instructors were absolutely top notch and literally everything you did (from brief, to flight, to fight, to debrief) was critiqued. It’s like applying Blue Angel precision to the fighter environment.

With that, we come to the story of getting jumped by an F-5. As I recall, the hop was a four plane Self Escort Strike (Fighter/Bomber configuration) at the training range around Fallon, Nevada carrying two each inert Mk 82s (cement 500lb bombs). We’d fight our way in from the east on the north side of the range, hang a left at the right time to attack the Bravo 19 target complex to the south, and egress/hook out to the west after that (picture counter-clockwise flow). We were in a four plane and the section of F-14Bs were in the lead, and I was Dash-2 in the section of F-14As.

Side note – one crew per squadron was selected per class so they generally ran 2 sections of Tomcats and two sections of Hornets (maybe a few more). At the time, I was in VF-24 in the F-14A so I got crewed up with another Pilot/RIO [admission – for the LIFE of me I can’t remember their squadron……VF-213?.....31?... ...dunno….it was 1995 and they were flying A’s out of Miramar] and we’d swap leads every other mission/syllabus hop. Today “Stinky” was in the lead (not his real callsign).

We started the run from the east headed west along the northern boundary of the working area. We were one mile combat spread (each jet 1 mile apart) in a line abreast and I was on the far right (northernmost fighter); lead fighter in the B was on the far left and Stinky was 1 mile to my left. Break those hands out again if it helps. Looks about like this:

◄ - Dash 4 (me)

◄ - Dash 3 (Stinky)

◄ - Dash 2 (F-14B)

◄ - Dash 1 (Lead F-14B)

The expectation is that we’d see some long-range contacts (we did) and fire some BVR weapons (we did) and then make our way to the target area and get jumped either in the middle during our turn south (we did) or immediately off the target after we released (we did).

So we’re “haulin’ the chili” as we used to say, ingressing at 480kts and nearing the swing south. Parenthetically, we liked to travel at speeds in multiples of 60 because that made the time/distance calculation easier…..480kts = 8 miles a minute means 16 miles away = 2 minutes. We hit the turn point and start this sweeping gentle “wheel” to the left and steady up on a southerly heading as I get back in position having been on the outside of the turn. Right when we settle back in and we’re all 1-mile line abreast, my RIO shouts out on the tactical frequency “BOGEY RIGHT THREE O’CLOCK ONE MILE!!!” I look over and sure enough there’s an F-5 at one mile away on my altitude pointing right at me. Dang it.

Here’s where it gets funny. Stinky calls out on the radio “We’re clear!”, meaning he thinks we don’t need to engage and can blow through. Well yes, Stinky, YOU are clear because the F-5 is TWO miles from YOU and has no chance of catching YOU, but I’VE got him in my knickers and I HAVE to honor his presence and engage. So I do.

INTERMISSION – I will say that Stinky was a resoundingly gifted Tomcat pilot and was as good at ACM as anyone, but this was NOT the first time he’d left me to engage as he blew through. It happened on a previous 2 plane ingress; I got jumped and he kept going. Not the coolest move, naturally, and the Instructors were savage in their critique but honestly I didn’t have to worry about it after Top Gun because he wasn’t in my squadron. We now return you to your previously schedule dogfight.

So bam, max performance turn to the right to take the F-5 down my right side close aboard to try and neutralize the threat and then figure out what’s next. I figure that if I want to have a snowballs chance in hell to get back to my division, I had to steer the fight properly. So he goes down my right side and I take the fight two circle (continue the right turn, but mostly in the vertical), come out of blower to get the speed down and turn rate to increase quickly and pull hard to get nose on. It works pretty well because the F-5 turns about like a Phantom (meaning: it doesn’t). I get the nose to rate around quickly and pull down to get nose on the F-5 and call a quick “Fox 2” on him. Fortunately for me, we’re kind of pointing the way we were going originally, so it’s blowers to Zone 5 and try and find our buddies. Honestly, I think that was a gift from the Instructor to configure it so I’d bag him and be able to continue. They were always good like that.

My RIO finds them on the pulse scope pretty quickly; they’re a number of miles ahead but we’re heading down hill toward them in full grunt, haulin’ and extra helping of chili. I get a visual and aim for the Dash-4 position to the right of Stinky where I was previously. By this time we’re getting close to the roll in point on the Bravo 19 target. The plan is to do a “John Wayne Left”, where – just like in the movies – we all roll in on the target leftward, one after another. We’ll likely even mentally make that noise from those movies…..”Brrrrr…..Brrrrrr…..Brrrrrr”. The timing works out absolutely perfectly (rather be lucky than good). I’m sliding up into position when Dash 1 rolls left….Dash 2 goes……my RIO gets Air-to-Ground read into the system, good symbology…..Stinky goes….then I go.

Master Arm on, roll left, pull nose to the target, 45° dive set, symbology tracking (a vertical line through the target with a que marker marching down to a release marker), que marker hits release marker, press the bomb button (“pickle”), thump-thump, and we’re off target. I pull out hard, roll wings left to look back briefly at the target (a hit, or at least close enough) and find and join on Stinky in spread again.

The B guys get jumped from the north now and me and Stinky have a couple bogies on our nose to the west. We’ve split into roughly separate sections so now it’s time to fight our way out. Fortunately for us, the bogies are right on our nose, so discretion being the better part of valor we blow through as we accelerate through the number at about 5,000 feet off the deck. Not a good idea to hang out over simulated bad guy country after you just bombed the shit out of ‘em. “Evaluate the bug” says Stinky…..”good bug” says the Instructor. Success.

We come back for the debrief and it goes fairly well. For those that haven’t been through, “fairly well” means you get talked to about each and every point of the flight for about 3 hours. Stinky got savaged for not honoring the threat to his wingman but again, no big deal to me. And then we go to the tapes to evaluate our strike run. It comes to my turn and we roll tape. The vertical line (Bomb Fall Line, I think) tracks over the target, que hits, bombs come off, and the instructor hits pause.

“So how fast were you going at release?” Uh oh. I had no idea. So you know, there are actually limits to how fast you can drop ordnance based on how much testing had been done on the airframe. At that point the Tomcat wasn’t cleared for supersonic release. Conjecture was that depending on speed and airflow that a released bomb may get “stuck” in the air around the jet and clatter around in the tunnel between the engines. On the “good/bad scale”, that’s clearly on “bad.”

“I’m not sure, Sir. I was trying to get into position on time to roll in with the division and I didn’t check.”

“Well, based on what we could see on radar, you joined your division nearly supersonic, right around 600 knots. Then you rolled in, so I figure you may have dropped past the number. Congratulations, you’re a test pilot.”

Oops. “Uhhh…..thank you Sir.” What a time to be alive!

@RSE_vb via X

[serpentface]

Ok I have been repeatedly asked about maps and I cannot provide any that are anywhere NEAR up to date enough but I can provide this (still WIP and missing most of its lesser cities and virtually all of its towns LOL) map of the Wardi Empire.

(Note- don't take the exact paths of rivers and coastlines too seriously. The broad details are accurate but I'm mostly drawing squiggles here)

Key:

Red area: lands nominally claimed by Wardi imperial rule. It is less territorially contiguous than this map would suggest, but this is broadly accurate. Lavender area: lands of major tributary states/other conquered entities/contested areas (many all at once). Lands that are either self-governing but tributary to the surrounding empire, or heavily contested and in conflict against imperial land-grabbing. Light blue (within red/lavender boundary)- nominally claimed as Imperial Wardi land, but either largely wilderness or otherwise effectively self governing. Most of central Wardin is sparsely populated grassland and savannah, with dry scrubland to the south. Star: A central city-state Dot: A major city.

Key city-states:

Godsmouth - Religious center of Wardin, center of commerce and capital in all but name. Given its proximity to the entrance of the inner sea, it is the most critical port and center of trade.

Wardin- the original city-state from which the Wardi empire emerged. 'Wardin' is used interchangeably for this specific city-state and the empire itself, context depending. Home of the imperial family. Fed by agricultural lands around the Brilla river.

Jazait - city on the White Sea, important river trade route.

Erubinnos- city on the eastern White Sea, another important trade route. Close historical ties to Lobera via the Kannethod river.

Lobera- city-state at the head of the Kannethod River, eastern extent of the Wardi empire.

Erub- City-state along the Yellowtail river. It is currently experiencing a localized collapse due to catastrophically falling water levels.  Named for the same historical figure as Erubinnos and the Erubin river.

Ephennos- the breadbasket of the Wardi empire, key agricultural land.

Tiberrich- Bears a name of an ancient royal Dain king, one of the most culturally diverse city-states with populations hailing from around the Viper.

Finnerich - recently conquered tributary state that fell into civil war, its new leadership is hostile to the Wardi Empire and is currently engaged in a protracted war for independence.

Some points of interest:

The White Sea- large sea to the south

The Viper- narrow inner sea to the north. its ends connect to the Inner Seas and the White Sea, its western tip ends about 55 miles from the ocean. Many have attempted and failed to bridge this gap with a canal, to the point that 'digging out the viper's tail' is a common expression that communicates an exercise in futility.

Sons of Creation - a strange, circular mountain range with a lake at its center and an island at the center of that. Believed to be the site of God’s sacrifice and the world’s creation. It is a prehistoric impact crater.

Jaquin’s Boot - a peninsula, claimed territory of the Wardi empire but functionally independent. The location of the sole native elowey population of the region. 

Yellowtail river: originates from two separate rivers in Greathill, and dies out in the central savannah. Seasonal and periodic flooding extends its length dramatically.

Kannethod river: the largest river in the region and the most sacred, defines most of the eastern borders. Key trade route.

Erubin river: the largest river in the Greathill region

Black river: large and densely populated river mostly fed by the Erubin

Cholemdi - ‘the salt wastes’, a great dry lake and surrounding salt flats. Some condemned criminals are sent here, and the whole land is believed to be haunted. 'Saltlanders' live on its borders. Very, very rarely, seasonal rains and flooding of the Yellowtail river refills the lake. 

Oaklands - largely undeveloped oak forests, source of a few major rivers.

Odatoche- The highest peak in the region, a long dormant volcano

Greathill - montane region. Source of several great rivers. Land of the Hill Tribes. 

The tooth - a peninsula in the waters of The Mouth. Contains a port city Od-Koto.

The Tongue- lower Godsmouth. 

[pjmmania]

To Be a Viper - Part II

Content Warnings: References to sex, mentions of suicide, grief

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Thank you for supporting this work so far. It’s been really awesome to watch the numbers climb little by little, especially for a small account like mine! Let me know in the comments what you think - I’d love to hear from you. Thanks again and enjoy Part II:)

—————

Jimin pushed himself off the rock wall with his right foot. He let out a breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear you say those words all day, that you were ready to give him whatever information he needed. He tilted his head towards the house, gesturing for you to follow him back the way you came.

“It’s a simple question,” He said, “And it’s alright if the answer doesn’t come to you right away.”

“Okay.” You replied wearily.

“What I need to know, and what Yohan would like to get out of you, is where your parents were stockpiling the weapons.”

You were at a loss, "How would I possibly know the answer to that?"

"Like I said, it's okay if it doesn't come to you right now," Jimin was being gentle, even encouraging, "But you likely do know the answer. When my father was explaining everything to us, right after we left home, he told us that he suspected the weapons were being taken out of the country, possibly to a remote location."

"What made him think that?"

"Well, because it would make sense, wouldn't it? Our parents were so close for so long. They knew virtually everything about each other. So if one party needed to keep something hidden, then that hiding place would best be somewhere far and unexpected."

You crossed your arms as you walked along lazily, deriding him, "No offense, Jimin, but that seems like a pretty loose theory. It's based on nothing but conjecture."

He looked at you and smirked, "Great minds think alike. I thought so too at first, but then I remembered when your father took you on that one spontaneous trip. Remember? It was our freshman year of high school, so the timeline matches up fairly well."

"Yes," You mumbled, trying to piece something together in your mind, "He wouldn't tell me where we were going, saying it was a surprise."

Memories replayed in your head. You remembered your impromptu getaway with your father. Jimin was correct - it was right at the beginning of high school. It was a fond memory of your father, until now. You were so giddy about it when it happened. He gave you only a day to pack, increasing your wonder and excitement. When you discovered you were heading to America, you were overjoyed. You'd always wanted to visit.

Jimin nodded, "Probably because he didn't want you to tell me, for fear that it would get back to my parents. And I recall you being secretive about it when you returned, which was strange. It was one of the only times you kept something from me.”

"Right...Before we left, he told me that it would be nice to have this one vacation just between us, as father and daughter. I guess I was happy to play along. We didn't have anything like that, a fun little secret just for us."

"Where did you end up going, Y/N?" He nudged you cautiously, eager for the information but careful of your emotions.

You recalled the exact spot. You could see it, you could smell it. That charming little cottage on that gorgeous lake in the mountains, birds chirping in the western hemlock treeline surrounding you.

But you couldn't remember the name of that place.

Jimin noticed your eyes darting around as you wracked your brain for something. He was going to be patient with you on this.

"I-I don't know what it was called," You got frustrated with yourself, "I can see it so clearly, though. I remember that trip so well. We were somewhere in America. There were mountains nearby, and we stayed in a cottage on a lake. The lake let out to a bigger body of water. I don't know the name of it for some reason. It was really secluded, not a place that people...that people would know."

You closed your eyes, almost embarrassed that you just confirmed his whole theory in real-time.

The mafia boss was losing count of how many times you’d managed to weaken his resolve since the morning. He felt the pull to put his arm around you, just as he had countless times in a past life. Caving to this impulse, he placed his arm around your shoulder and walked you along.

“It’s alright,” He assured you, “The name will come to you. Thank you for telling me this.”

Feeling his semi-embrace came with so much nostalgia. It was precisely what you longed for in that moment, a glimpse of what life used to be - not only before this terrible day, but before your father died. When you and Jimin were close, when you had someone you could lean on for anything.

It was a cruel predicament indeed, where the man who had just blown up your life was also the only one who could console you.

You allowed your body to lean on his as you traversed upon the sand.

“So is this all your life is?” You inquired quietly, “Just guns and schemes and always having to watch your back?”

He chuckled and squeezed you closer in a manner that resembled a familiar playfulness, “Of course not. I still enjoy my life, all of us do. We have to do a lot a dirty work, but it has its perks. We get to travel. We have fun.”

“When did you meet all those guys?” You asked.

Jimin shrugged, “They all came aboard at various times. Picked them up as I’ve gone along. Their backgrounds are pretty diverse. Namjoon is one of the sharpest people I’ve ever met and the first one I brought on board. He worked for my parents, actually. Helped connect them to firearm manufacturers that were willing to help in their black market sales. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Hoseok all come from different street gangs. Jin came from a rich family, super smart. He went to medical school but got kicked out for selling drugs right out of the hospital. He’s saved a few of our lives before, sewn up some bullet wounds here and there.”

“Have you been shot before?”

He nodded, but it didn’t seem to bother him, “Once, yes. On my left thigh, but thanks to Jin’s expertise I was able to recover pretty quickly. One of Yohan’s little cronies did it. Got me while I was leaving a nightclub. I haven’t let myself be that careless since.”

You didn’t know what to say, “I’m sorry.”

Jimin smirked, “I’m not. That fucking sleaze accomplished the opposite of what he intended. I became more alive then ever. I got tougher, more refined.”

There was a period of silence. The breeze weaved through the gap between your bodies, its subtle whistle filling your ears.

Then you thought of the one member of the group he hadn’t talked about, the one who currently could not have ranked any lower on your scorecard.

“What about Taehyung?”

He looked at your face, detecting some malice in your conviction, “I met Tae almost a full year ago at a, shall we say, gentlemen’s club.”

It could be interpreted as warped, but that made you giggle a little. Your system needed to be lighthearted, it needed something to laugh at, “That makes perfect sense.”

Jimin was confused at your change in attitude, yet welcomed the sound of your genuine laughter, “Oh it does, does it?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “The one you met at a strip club was the one you sent to be all slimy and flirtatious with me. The womanizer.”

He smiled and laughed a little too, “When you put it that way, I guess it is a bit on-the-nose.”

Your mood sobered shortly after you got back inside the house. The remainder of the day was spent in a limbo. Jimin showed you the rest of the Safe House just to pass some more time. Eventually, you simply retreated back up to your assigned room.

The guys and the staff gave you your space. After the story had been told, it felt like it was alright to call it a day. You had taken in all that your body could handle. Not even hungry for dinner, you remained in your room for the rest of the day and fell asleep early.

The following morning, the boss went about the typical routine. He got out of bed and padded into his bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

Looking into the mirror, Jimin examined his slicked-back hair. He noticed how far his dark roots had grown and realized it was time to dye it again.

It was something he’d done periodically, to change appearance. He’d been blonde for a long time. Perhaps he was due for a new color, but he set that down for now.

He went downstairs, where Bongcha was scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees.

Jimin went and crouched down in front of her.

“Good morning, Sir.” She smiled with labored breath. She swept a piece of hair out of her face.

“Morning,” He shared his own friendly grin, “Care to tell me what you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning the floors,” the maid said innocently, knowing the question was well-intended, “I didn’t have the time to do it before your arrival, so I thought I might-”

Jimin cut her off, stopping her sponge-clutching hand from moving, “No, this kind of manual work won’t be your burden for the time being. Not in your condition.”

Bongcha seemed relieved yet concerned.

The boss knew exactly what she was thinking and squashed it immediately, “Don’t worry. I have a household full of healthy men who are quite capable of doing their fair share of chores.”

The maid let out a sigh, but smiled with a nod, “I think I have to agree with you on that, Sir.”

Jimin chuckled and helped her to her feet, “It’s about time we all stop being a bunch of bums around here, huh? Come have breakfast with me. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

Bongcha agreed. This was the side of this man she was trying to tell you about the day before. Fiercely loyal to and caring toward those in his inner circle.

They sat in the dining room together and ate Eunji’s delightful cooking. Both of them would attest that she made the best scrambled eggs on the planet. Jimin had coffee, and she had decaffeinated tea.

The boss took this opportunity to ask her an important question, “How has he been with you as of late?”

She swallowed her bite and tilted her head candidly, “Not too bad.”

“That’s not good.”

“I think he’s just still getting used to the situation,” She said, “I understand it will take some time. He’s been kind, just a little standoff-ish compared to before.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Well he needs to realize that he doesn’t get to take his time. You don’t. You’ve been dealing with it day in and day out for…how many weeks has it been now?”

“Nine, Sir.”

“And you still plan on keeping it?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“I will talk with him.”

Bongcha set her fork down, “Please do not chide him.”

He raised his brows with a grin, “I didn’t say ‘chide’, did I? We will talk.”

The maid was feeling a little squeamish and decided to change the note of this little morning chat. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she said, “I think I can see how you and Y/N used to be friends.”

The boss hummed a laugh into his mug, “Is that so?”

“Quite,” The young woman replied, “Your personalities are very similar.”

Jimin had to express his amusement once again, “Though I usually align with your sensibilities, I really don’t think you have your finger on the pulse this time, Bongcha. We are very different people. Perhaps in a past life we were alike, but certainly not now.”

She sipped her tea elegantly, “Well, I can only speak to what I’ve seen so far, which granted is very little, but I’d argue that my position here had given me a keen eye when it comes to these things.”

The leader let his mug rest on the table, “Okay, then elaborate.”

Bongcha started to poke the eggs on her plate to gather another forkful, “She is headstrong, but tactfully so. Kind at heart, but intolerant of disrespect. Her tongue can be sharp, but never loose.”

“You mean to say she is calculating.”

The blonde woman tilted her head. That word sounded too negative, “No, Sir. I’d rather go with…discerning.”

Before he could respond, Jimin heard another set of footsteps coming their way.

It was Hoseok, with disheveled hair, baggy sweatpants, and a wrinkled white t-shirt. He entered the room with a yawn, using his pistol to satisfy an itch on the back of his neck.

He gave the pair a nod, “Kids.”

He sat down perpendicular to Jimin, who was at the head of the table. The boss grimaced, “You reek of Macallan.”

The elder couldn’t have cared less, “At least I reek of a top-shelf brand.”

The boss became aggravated, “Jesus Christ, go fucking shower.”

He then looked at the maid, who was trying to seem disinterested in the conversation by looking down. Jimin grinned at her and then turned his head back to Hoseok.

“And after that, you can clean the floors.”

Bongcha pressed her lips together to conceal her amusement.

Hoseok let out a guffaw, “You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Jimin taunted him while leaning back in his chair with arms crossed, “Have Kookie join you too. A little manual labor, to put some hair on your chest.”

After he ate and got some coffee in his system, the hungover member began his assignment. He picked up where the maid had left off, right by the staircase. An inconvenient spot for his pride, as all the others got to make fun of him as they came downstairs.

The only way one who didn’t get away with it was Jungkook. He wasn’t pleased when he learned that he had to help with the task, at Jimin’s insistence. As the youngest of the seven, Jungkook was a little more sensitive to performing duties he believed were below his station. Of course, his boss was aware of this, but he needed some humbling from time to time.

Soon it was the middle of the morning and the house was wide awake. These kinds of days were the best for the group. No jobs to do - just tucked away in a secluded part of Jeju Island with some relaxation time to be absorbed.

Jin and Namjoon sat in the living room, enjoying a screwdriver and Irish coffee respectively, while the others ate breakfast. Jin noticed the boss meandering around the first floor with his mug of black coffee. This wasn't atypical behavior, especially when he had much on his mind.

Keeping his volume discreet, he remarked to the other, "Apparently he told Y/N everything yesterday. Even asked her the question we all want to know the answer to."

Namjoon glanced back at their leader, observing the same thing, before turning back to face Jin, "Good for him."

"No, he looks distraught," Jin sighed at the younger man's nonchalance, "I thought he'd be the opposite by now. We have the girl, he offloaded all the information he needed to tell her. He should feel relief."

Namjoon made sure his voice was lowered and leaned in a bit, "Take it from me, since I worked for his parents. Though I rarely ever saw Jimin and never met Y/N during those days, his father mentioned how close they were. Once he even told me that Jimin favored being around her over all others. All others. Like, over girlfriends."

The elder cocked a brow as he swallowed a gulp of his screwdriver, "You think he was in love with her?"

"I don't know. Jimin has certainly never said that, but you remember how it was to be a teenage guy. We're all fucking idiots at that age, often so dumb that we can't even realize our own feelings." Namjoon explained.

The other chuckled, "Well that's a cute sentiment and all, but what does that have to do with him being stressed out right now?"

"I think he's just feeling paranoid and guilty that he had to do this to her. Obviously he cares about her a lot. I'd wager that it's pretty fucking hard to bring someone you care about into this kind of life. But he'll get over it, just like she will. Because they both have to. And that's all there is to it, hyung."

Jin laughed, "As if it's that simple."

Jimin began to feel your absence as the morning went on, but understood that you needed a decent rest. You were recuperating from the longest and most emotionally draining day of your life.

But you weren’t resting. You were lying in bed and staring at your the lock screen on your phone. The background photo was of the River Thames in London. You captured it from the street during one pretty sunset the previous summer. The London Bridge was standing proudly over the calm, reflective water.

You’d give anything to be able to go back. Back to a charming life in Europe, back to the career you adored.

The lock screen also showed endless notifications. They were calls and texts from your family. You hadn’t turned off your location, and more damningly, you hadn’t returned home last night like you said you would.

Their texts were panicked, asking if you were in trouble. You wondered if they had put the pieces together by now. Did they suspect you were with Jimin?

Your nerves escalated, forcing you out of bed. You just needed to move and focus on something else.

Subconsciously, you ended up standing at the windows. The sky was blanketed with clouds, and there was no wind to move them. From your viewpoint, you could look down on the back deck. There was zero activity and motion below, until you saw someone emerge.

You could decipher that this was Jimin by the light hair and distinguished gait. He had a black leather jacket on, and hands in his pockets to deal with the nippy early spring climate. At first, you expected to see someone follow him out the back door, but after a few moments, it became clear that he was alone.

He ambled around without intention, as if he was sleep-walking. This was a habit of his that you recognized, the aimless pacing of a man with a lot on his mind. Although this time, it wasn’t due to nervousness for an upcoming school exam.

You could gather that his life now came with a whole different kind of weight on his shoulders. He had men to look after, staff to keep safe. He was locked in an arms race that would cost him his life, if he lost.

You found yourself pitying him, despite all the heartache he had caused you in the past twenty-four hours.

Your phone began to buzz again. You looked down to see Uncle Yohan’s name and photo come up on the screen. You let it go unanswered.

You needed to remember where you and your father went on vacation, all those years ago. It was your ticket out of this mess. Jimin didn't need to spell it out for you - you could put two and two together. Whoever reached this hidden trove of weapons first would gain a crucial edge over the other, guaranteeing more security, if not the end to this cut-throat rivalry.

Then you saw another guy join Jimin outside. Black hair, a round face, muscular stature. Most likely Jungkook.

He must have called Jimin's name, making him turn around. In doing so, he noticed you standing at the window, gaze locking with yours immediately.

You felt frozen, unable to offer a wave or a smile.

Curious to see what his brother was staring at, Jungkook also turned his head. When he saw that it was you, the youngest member looked back at Jimin. He observed a perfectly calm, perhaps even pleasant expression on his face, as if just laying eyes on you brought him solace.

You uprooted from your spot and removed yourself from their sights, heading into the bathroom to wash up.

Jimin returned his sole focus to Jungkook. He noticed his sleeves and knees all soapy, which forced him to cross his arms over his chest and attempt to cover up a laugh with one hand up to his lips.

The younger didn't find it funny, "Might I ask when it became my responsibility to scrub the fucking floors?"

The boss smirked, "You may, although I'm not sure you want to have this conversation."

"Oh, I do." Jungkook challenged.

He had no clue what was coming his way, but if he was insisting, then so be it. Jimin dropped his smug attitude and agreed, opening his arms and gesturing to a set of chairs along the pool. Their frames were wooden with ivory cushioning on top.

Jungkook reclined back and put his arms behind his head, while the leader sat upright facing him, elbows propped on his knees.

Jimin was already bothered by how airy and indifferent he looked.

"Well go on," The younger sighed, "Let's have it out."

The older man laughed out his frustration, shaking his head down at the ground, "You are a damn fool sometimes, you know that?"

"Enlighten me, hyung."

"I had you clean the floors because it wouldn't kill you to learn to take some accountability around here."

"That's all fine and good, but you have a maid to 'take accountability' for house chores."

There it was.

Jimin had it. His tone dropped a level, hardening against his subordinate, "You're right. If only my maid hadn't been fucking impregnated recently."

Jungkook met his cold stare instantly. His unbothered expression soured as he exhaled in a dramatic groan, “Jesus Christ, hyung. That’s what this is about? Real clever of you to sneak that in there.”

“I didn’t sneak shit. You’re the one who inquired in the first place, and you’re the one who had to get your dick wet.”

The accused shot up to his feet, “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Jungkook,” Jimin became even more elevated, “You can’t run from this one.”

He began to walk away, forcing the boss to his feet. In a swift maneuver of dominance, Jimin used his arm to block Jungkook from passing. He shoved him backwards a few paces and got in his face.

His eyes were deadly serious, bearing into the younger’s so fiercely that it was like a form of mind control. Despite being shorter in stature and leaner, Jimin had an uncanny way of asserting such power. But then again, it was in his blood.

His voice was hushed, coming through a clenched jaw, “Did I say you could walk away? Hm? Sit the fuck down.”

Jungkook had a temper of his own that he had to keep in-check. Breathing slowly, he lowered himself back into the chair.

Jimin remained standing and put his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky for a moment, “I won’t tolerate this little act of yours any longer. You don’t get to knock up my leading maid, who I thought you had feelings for, and then pretend like it never happened. I can understand that it’s not what you wanted or planned for, but it’s time to step up.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighed, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you have no fucking idea what this feels like. Would you feel ready to be a dad?”

“It’s not about readiness, it’s about responsibility,” The boss snapped, “And for the record, I do know what it feels like. Do you think I felt prepared for this life when it was forced on me? Do you think I wanted this? Sometimes things just fall into your lap and you need to rise to the occasion, Jungkook.”

The younger buried his face into his hands, “Fucking Christ…”

Jimin sat back down and put a hand on his shoulder, “There are worse fates than being a father.”

“As if I’d know anything about that.”

It struck a chord. Jungkook never knew his father. There was no model to imitate, no rule book to follow. A silence was cast between the two men.

After a few minutes of sitting and listening to the gentle breeze, Jungkook muttered, “What the hell does any of this have to do with making me scrub the floor again?”

That made the boss laugh. He patted the back of his good friend heartily, “You can ask Bongcha about that. It seems like the two of you need to have a long discussion.”

“She asked you to make me do it?”

Jimin grinned, “You know she’d never do that.”

Jungkook knew he was right. No one who knew Bongcha would think she’d go behind someone’s back like that. She was far too gentle a soul.

Then the superior recalled finding her on the floor, overworking herself, and he frowned.

“But,” Jimin said, “I didn’t feel like I had a choice other than to speak with you about this. Someone had to take over for her. When I came downstairs this morning, she was trying to do it, breathing hard and looking exhausted. I wasn’t going to let her continue. That’s my responsibility.”

The black-haired man looked down, feeling shame for the first time in a long while. He rubbed his palms together as he pictured it - the woman carrying his child slaving away like that. Regardless of where their once blossoming relationship stood, that just didn’t sit well.

Jimin could see the gears turning behind his lowered eyes. He was starting to get it.

“I’ll talk to her.” Jungkook said.

He received another firm pat on the shoulder, “Good man. Let me know what comes of it. If I need to make other arrangements for Bongcha, I will.”

There was a mutual understanding of what he meant by that. This wasn’t the best environment for an expectant mother, let alone a baby. If she would feel safer in a different location, perhaps a new apartment somewhere, then Jimin would provide that.

They got up from their chairs and proceeded to head back inside.

Jungkook promised, “I’ll keep you informed, but don’t put all your energy towards this. We’ve got bigger problems.”

The boss glanced back up to your window, “Trust me, I’m aware. That’s why I’m calling a meeting, right now."

You were brushing your teeth until your gums bled, preoccupied with the same swimming thoughts. You were trying to clutch every single moment of that trip to America, hoping to come out the other side with a name.

Meanwhile, your phone rang again. It was an unidentified number, but you were too nervous to pick up. It very well could have been your family, trying to trick you into speaking to them. The vibration of the device caused it to move on the countertop near the sink. Unfortunately, it was already slightly over the edge of the surface. The buzzing moved the phone just enough to cause it to fall onto the floor.

It landed on its side, causing the case to pop right off.

You instantly turned the sink off, spit into it, and wiped your lips. Then you crouched down to pick up your phone and, more importantly, the photos you kept safe behind the case. They had fanned out on the floor, making your stomach drop. These photos were too precious.

You took a minute looked at them. One was of you and your mother. You were a small child, nuzzling into her chest with a sweet toothless smile. It made you remember her scent and what it felt like to be in her arms. You began to tear up, now understanding the context of her suicide.

The second was one of you and your father. You were older in this photo, a teenager. You were standing together, arms around each other in the middle of the giggles. Knowing your father, he probably had just said something to make you laugh. For some reason you remembered taking this one - you had set your phone against a tree trunk and put it on a timer. There was no one else around to take your picture because it was just the two of you there. On vacation, with a lake in the background…

It hit you. This was the place.

You sank down onto your rear with a thud, brows furrowed as you scanned the photo for any evidence of a name. There was nothing else in the background besides the lake, a long dock with yellow poles, and a hilly tree line.

Hastily, you flipped the photo over, and there was your answer, written in your own handwriting:

‘Trip to Lake Lauko’

Lake Lauko.

Lake Lauko.

That was it. You were positive. The timeline matched up with what Jimin told you, given your age in the photo. To your surprise, you were elated to have found the answer. This knowledge gave you leverage. It made you feel like you finally had some power in this situation.

You quickly changed into some medium-wash jeans and a faded green sweater. You needed to share this with them as soon as possible.

With damp hair and bare feet, you practically flung the door open and ran downstairs with the photo pinched between your index finger and thumb.

“Jimin!” You called as you descended on the staircase.

You made your way into the living room, expecting to find people there, but it was to no avail. In fact, the entire floor was quiet. There was no sign of life until Bongcha rounded a corner from the other room.

“Is there something you need, Miss?”

“Yes,” you panted a little, “I need to see Jimin. Where is he?”

“He has called a meeting. The men are gathered downstairs in the Game Room.”

“The ‘Game Room’? Like for video games and stuff?” You asked.

The maid giggled, “No, Miss. That’s what they call their conference room.”

You recalled Jimin referring to this business as a game, so you supposed that made sense.

“Am I allowed to go down?” You tilted your head a little.

“I’m not the judge of that,” Said the blonde woman, “But if it’s important-”

You pressed eagerly, “It is.”

Bongcha smiled cordially, "Then I will take you. Follow me."

You let her take the lead and went to a door you hadn't seen yet. She opened it, revealing a staircase that went to a below-ground level of the house. The lights were already on down there, revealing a lower floor that was every bit as nice as the others. The main portion of it looked like a smoke lounge, complete with an enormous bar. The sight of all of that top-shelf liquor was nauseating, after the hangover you had yesterday.

An open door to the left showed another room, which appeared to be a gym. Though the lights were off, you could make out the weights, treadmills, etcetera.

Bongcha headed past all of that and took a right, coming upon a closed door with a numeral pad mounted on the wall next to it. The pad had a red light, presumably meaning that the door was locked. You couldn't see which numbers she pressed, but you heard a small beep with every digit being entered.

Then the light on the pad turned green, followed by the sound of a lock unhatching from within.

Your guide opened the door and went in. You found Yoongi and Namjoon's eyes landing on you from their black leather chairs.

Jimin's voice could be heard, "Yes, Bongcha?"

Before she could answer him, you paced into the room behind her, making the other guys swivel their chairs in your direction. Jimin stood up from his seat at the head, fingers keeping contact with the long twelve-seater table. Your newly-showered and unfinished appearance brought about concern. Plus, your face expressed urgency.

He glanced at the small object in your hand, "Y/N, what's wrong?"

By the look of interest on her boss's face, Bongcha had no doubt that they would hear what you had to say. She discreetly exited the room behind you and shut the door. It automatically locked again.

Your eyes were darting across all of the faces now staring you down.

Jimin asked you again, "Y/N? What happened?"

Your attention snapped back to him. You slowly raised the hand that held the photo of you and your father, "I-I remembered the name. I know where the weapons are."

All of the guys shared looks of astoundment, gazes flitting back and forth between you and the boss.

His face told of both curiosity and relief, "Already? You're positive?"

You nodded and made your way across the room to him. You handed him the photo, "I know for a fact that this is the place we were talking about. And check the back."

Jimin cracked a grin. He flipped around the image and read aloud, "Lake Lauko, huh? Namjoon, pull that up."

Namjoon followed orders, typing away on the laptop in front of him, which seemed to be hooked up to the large television screen on the wall opposite the head.

In the meantime, Jimin asked you, "Where did you get this photo?"

"I keep pictures of my mother and father in my phone case." You said quietly, uncomfortable with all of the others hearing such an intimate detail of your grief.

He nodded with a hum.

"Here we go," Namjoon announced, directing everyone's attention to the screen, "Lake Lauko, located slightly east of the Puget Sound. State of Washington, United States."

There were images of the lake blown up for everyone to see. It was a beautiful place, just as you remembered. The group was observing keenly, including yourself.

"Looks remote, just as we thought." Yoongi remarked.

Jimin kept checking between your photo and the images on the screen ahead, looking for any signs of similarity. They needed to be able to pinpoint the exact spot.

"There," He eventually called out, pointing with his other hand, "Right there. Pull up that one on the bottom left, Joonie."

You noticed the same thing as soon as the image became enlarged. It was a picture of the lake from a higher angle, showing the same dock that was in your personal photo - the one with the yellow poles.

Jimin passed your belonging off to Hoseok, who then passed it to Jungkook. It began traveling around the room, making you uneasy. You didn't want these men having visibility into a private memory of yours like this. It felt like an intrusion, to allow them to see the younger version of yourself with your deceased father.

"It's the same dock." Jin nodded.

Jimin smirked, gesturing to the large screen once more, "That's it, gentlemen. That's exactly where we want to go. We leave in one week."

There was an uproar of clapping and celebratory noises. They were patting each other on the back and whatnot, grateful that they finally had the answer. The boss watched with gratification written on his face, enjoying the sight of his men getting to have this weight lifted off their shoulders.

He then smiled at you, "Thank you."

But the zeal you possessed when you first made the discovery had been drained from you. You weren't happy. You weren't eager. You weren't even relieved anymore.

All you felt was that you had just betrayed your own family. The thing that could have helped them win this long-drawn war, you had just given away to their enemies. You thought of your dear parents. Your father, smiling joyously next to you in that old photo. Would he be ashamed of the fact that you had just broken faith with Uncle Yohan, his brother?

You pursed your lips together, looking down at the floor. A nod was all you could offer Jimin in return, before making an excuse to leave the room, "I just wanted to let you know. I'll, um, go back upstairs now and get something to eat."

You turned and walked out of the meeting, and no one followed.

Luckily, finding your way back to the main floor was uncomplicated. You aimed to head into the kitchen, where you hoped to find something small to eat. What you told Jimin wasn't entirely a lie - you were starting to get hungry.

You walked in on a conversation between Eunji and Bongcha.

"No," The maid sounded like she was whining, which was strange, given the graceful composure she'd been showing you thus far, "I'm sorry, I just can't eat kimchi right now. Even the smell of it makes me nauseous."

Eunji saw you and cleared her throat, warning Bongcha to stop.

Both women looked at you and put on their smiles. The cook wiped her apron and said, "Can I get you something to eat, Miss?"

You sighed, "Anything. You don't need to make something fresh. I'll take leftovers."

The woman could tell you were in distress, so she offered you a smile, "Leftovers? I cook for seven men, Miss. There are never leftovers in this place."

That made you laugh a little, fostering more appreciation for her, "I guess it was a silly proposition."

The maid left the kitchen soon after and Eunji whipped up a rice bowl with veggies and beef for you. As you ate and the cook cleaned up, you asked her, "Is Bongcha sick?"

Eunji paused, but then shook her head, "No, Miss. She's expecting."

Your chewing ceased for a moment before you swallowed and remarked, "Oh, I didn't realize."

"She isn't showing quite yet," the cook dried a pan she had just hand-washed, "Don't say anything to her unless she tells you, Miss. I'm only informing you since you would have found out eventually."

"Why can't I congratulate her?" You asked, "Oh, does she intend to...you know...?"

Eunji quelled that concern, "No, Miss. In fact, she's quite excited about it. She's just having some trouble in the early stages."

“I see. Who is the father?” You asked. Perhaps you were prying too much, but you couldn’t say no to the opportunity to focus on a situation that wasn’t your own.

The cook closed off, “Oh, I-I’m afraid that isn’t for me to say, Miss.”

The way she seemed to earnestly search for another task to perform made you all the more intrigued. Why was that such a touchy subject?

Then it dawned on you. Bongcha lived and worked full-time here. With Jimin and his men. You remembered the day before, how kind Jimin was with her and how highly she spoke of him. He had also told you quite openly that he’d been to strip clubs before. Was it that far off-base to think that a mafia boss in his sexual prime would fornicate with female members of his own staff?

You didn’t ask any further questions.

It was dark outside now, and you were sitting out on the back deck alone. The temperature had dropped, leaving you huddled on one of the sofas in one of the warm sweat sets Bongcha got for you.

You weren't opposed to the cold. You had a lot on your mind and it helped you think.

There was a battle being fought in your head. One side knew the safest thing to do was to join Jimin, and the other wanted to believe your family was redeemable.

Your family had undeniably been dishonest with you, while he had told you the truth. It was clear who you could trust and who you couldn't. You should have been feeling good about your decision to stay here, and you were, until you gave them the information. Something about taking real action against your own flesh and blood made your skin crawl.

Was it because their manipulation of you was that deeply engrained? Was it because it directly contradicted the values your late parents had instilled in you, to be loyal to your family?

You had taken sides with a man whose family destroyed yours. They were responsible for all of your heartache, and yet here you were. Was it a cowardly act of self-preservation, or were you simply being smart?

Thoughts and memories attacked each other, fueling the opposing sides.

You let out a small groan and buried your face in your hands. It felt like you were going into overdrive, collapsing under this monster that was gnashing its teeth at you.

"Hey you."

You sighed into your hands, not exactly in the mood to speak with him, "Not now, please."

"That's alright." He said. You looked up to find Jimin standing over you, holding your photo in his hand and extending it out to you, "I just wanted to return this to you."

You were so upset before that you hadn't realized that you left it behind in the Game Room, "Oh...Thanks."

You looked down at the photo, the lighting from the surrounding outdoor bulbs and lamp posts allowing you to faintly see the image. It flooded your heart with so much love and pain that your chest felt physically heavy.

Jimin began to leave you, abiding by your request. Then you had a feeling that pissed you off - you wanted him to stay.

"Wait," You huffed, causing him to turn around, "I changed my mind."

You scooted over, making room for him. Jimin smiled gently and sat next to you. He was in a charcoal grey hoodie and comfy black cargo pants, his lounge-around attire, apparently. The pair of you overlooked the rest of the back deck for some time, taking in the stillness of it all.

That is, until he said, "I'm sorry for how it was in the Game Room earlier. I know it wasn't easy for you to give us that information, and for it to be treated with celebration rather than respect hurt you."

Staring dead ahead, you replied, "Actually, it was easy for me to tell you. I found that photo and bolted downstairs. After we spoke yesterday, I truly believed that it was the right thing. I believed that you had my best interest at heart and that you were being honest with me. It's like giving you that crucial information meant fully committing to joining you all here. And I thought I was ready to do that. Evidently, I was wrong."

Jimin's expression went from remorseful to perturbed, "And do you still believe that I have your best interest at heart, and that I've been honest with you?"

You looked into his serious dark eyes, "Yes. It's just...They're my family. And I betrayed them."

He gave you a sullen look, "Can I let you in on a secret?"

You nodded.

Jimin put his calloused hand on your cheek and used a sympathetic tone, "You didn't betray your family, Y/N. They betrayed you. Yohan, Aera, and Eoduun knew the circumstances and didn't tell you, not because they wanted to spare you, but because they were priming you to hand over the same information you just gave to me. And although they loved you and might not have known it, your parents betrayed you by setting you up for this life. So did mine. But if I've learned anything over these past eight years, it's that you're not a bad person for doing the best you can with the cards you were dealt."

You felt like crying, your voice almost in a whisper, "And these are the cards we were dealt."

He nodded slowly, "These are the cards we were dealt. And one more thing."

"What?"

The mafia man put his other hand up to your other cheek, "You choose who your family is. All of us here, we can be your family if you want us to be."

His words were genuine and warm, filling your heart with loud echoes of the past. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and held his hands there. A tear rolled down your cheek but was derailed by his palm. It felt like you were seeing him anew. There were hints of the old Jimin before. Now, he was fully there. Mafia or not, you could see him sitting before you.

You shook your head, still holding his wrists, "I can't believe you're here right now."

Jimin took the chance to tease you and lighten the mood. He chuckled, "You can't believe that I'm here at my own house?"

You broke into a giggle, but it died down quickly, "No, I can't believe that you're here at all. You just vanished from my life. I mourned that loss as if you had actually died. It's like you've come back to life."

He smirked, “I’ve come back blonde and tattooed.”

You laughed slightly. He was smiling into your eyes, and yours into his. You then wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His sweatshirt smelled faintly of oranges and whiskey. Jimin held you around your back, soaking in your embrace.

“I missed you.” You said.

He closed his eyes, “I missed you too.”

Your taste of happiness was interrupted by the back door opening and closing. More of the guys were coming outside.

Jimin pulled away from the embrace and sighed, “Here they come.”

Hoseok called out to both of you, “Hey, we’re having a bonfire. You guys want to join?”

“Be there in a few minutes!” The leader responded. You glanced in their direction, seeing the reflection of light bouncing off bottles of dark liquor. A few of them sounded drunk already, judging by their laughter and volume.

Jimin seemed like he wanted to be with them, but he remained at your side for the time being.

“You know,” He nudged you with his side softly, gesturing to the photo in your hand, “I had a similar moment of clarity when you handed me that picture. The past couple of days have been hard for me too. I’ve felt this overwhelming guilt, even though I know that we had to bring you here. But now that I’ve seen this…The girl that I knew in another life, I don’t regret it anymore. She was the one I thought of all these years, when things became unbearable or when I needed to be reminded of something good in my life.”

Your focus went from the photo to his eyes. For the first time you saw something desperate in them. He had lost his entire family in a pool of blood, his life was cut to shreds. But you were still there, so he had a reason to keep going. He had been clinging to the idea of you.

It was your turn to lighten the mood, “You thought of a high school version of me? Creep.”

Jimin threw his head back and laughed. Oh how you missed his authentic laughter. It was a few octaves deeper than it used to be, but its cadence was the almost the same. It made you laugh along with him.

“And just like the high school version of yourself, you are still impossible.” He said with a little wink and a partial grin.

It was a minuscule, subconscious action, but that little wink translated differently than it would have in the past. While you’d recovered a part of your friendship, there was still twelve years of distance between the two of you. You couldn’t simply pick up right where you left off, so the wink of his eye didn’t read as platonic. As if that didn’t feel strange enough, you were just as confused to find yourself enjoying it regardless.

In the dim yet proficient lighting, you began to notice how handsome he was. He was your old friend, yes, but now you were starting to view him as a man. A little rugged yet distinguished. His jawline was the biggest change from his younger self - now sharpened by the aging process. And God, did you finally see what all the fuss was about his lips back in the old days. They were sultry and pillowy, perhaps even inviting.

Likewise, Jimin was seeing you through a new lense. Your features still brought about a familiar comfort, but he saw them as utterly gorgeous. Your eyes were twinkling in a way that pulled him. Your body had developed more - desirable according to any man’s standards. You were every bit as adorable and kind as that girl in the photo, but now there was something else too. Something striking.

All of this mutual observation lasted but a millisecond. Then, both looking for an escape, you made your way over to the bonfire together. Whatever you had just felt, you shook it off.

It was a gorgeous fire pit area. The flames were nurtured in a round stone table, surrounded by plush ivory seating with rattan framing. These included a four loveseats covering all sides and four arm chairs. It was another twelve-seat arrangement.

You plopped down next to Jimin on one of the loveseats, to no one’s surprise, but this gave you the opportunity to get to know the other guys a bit more.

As they drank and cracked jokes, some of them quite dark, you laughed along. At first, it felt very much as though you were force by yourself to enjoy their company. But, as the hours passed, it got easier. You were able to perceive their individual personalities better, and they got to see a tiny bit more of you. Your guard was still mostly up, but it was at least a start. And you certainly didn’t join them in drinking.

It got late and you decided to go to bed, the first out of the group to do so. The exhaustion washed over you as soon as you walked back into the house, and took you under shortly after your head hit the pillow.

You had a long road ahead of you if you wanted to feel truly content here, but today was a start.

[yuri-is-online]

Hi there! So I recently fell down the Tokyo Debunker rabbit hole and came across some of your posts in the tag so here I am for DISCOURSE lol So there’s been talk of Towa’s eyes closely resembling those of a goat due to his horizontal pupils, and that perhaps he’s a goat who made a pact with a demon to become human. But I noticed that Haku’s eyes are also different - his irises and pupils reminded me of a dragon immediate at first. Until I saw his campus chat with Tohma who makes a reference to a Dodge Viper. Tohma was insulting him, and at first I thought it was about Haku being the spy, but the Viper comment struck me in that Haku’s eyes also look like snake eyes. I wonder if his eyes being different also has to do with his ability to see spirits - in other words see what “normal” human eyes can’t. Would love to hear your thoughts! Can’t wait for the Hoturabi chapter!!

yeah I remember posting that Towa theory to the reddit in an offhanded comment and feeling sort of dumb for bringing it up. I'm real glad other people have been posting about it and discussing it, makes me feel much less stupid.

"special eyes" are a frequently used trope in anime and manga, JJK and Naruto are the two most famous examples I know of, so Haku's eyes looking different and that being what allows him to see spirits/things other people can't is... interesting. Snakes are associated with body's of water in Japanese myth, and Haku's artifact is a flute that seems to have something to do with bubbles, not to mention that Hotarubi seems to be on a lake. It makes me wonder where his family shrine is located....

Oh and before I forget, dragons and snakes are sort of intertwined in a lot of folklore. Many cultures have had the belief that if a snake lives long enough it can turn into a dragon, and both are simultaneously considered symbols of great evil and great good. If Haku is the spy, I wonder how he would characterize his actions, or if he sees his actions as beyond either good or evil because of the system he is trapped in, or if I am thinking too deeply.

[dansnaturepictures]

Eleven of my favourite photos I took in November 2024 and month summary

The photos are of; Great White Egret at Testwood Lakes, Snow Bunting at Sandy Point on Hayling Island, Cormorant at Lakeside Country Park, white deadnettle and view at Lakeside, Fallow Deer at Bolderwood in the New Forest, Red Admiral and shaggy scalycaps at Lakeside, red campion at Testwood Lakes, a characteristic sun going down whilst out view at this time of year at Pig Bush in the New Forest and the moon out the front.

November was another fantastic month of birds for me with a major highlight coming soon into it getting sensational views of the sumptuous Snow Bunting at Sandy Point and another fine species seen late on with only my third ever Red-necked Grebe seen at Weston Shore today. Other key birds seen this month included the seasonal delight of Redwings, Raven, Green Woodpecker, Ring-necked Parakeet, Greenfinch and Siskin. Glorious Great White Egret views, Grey Heron, Little Egret, Lapwing, Oystercatcher, Curlew, Wigeon, Teal, Shoveler, Pochard, Red-crested Pochard, Goosander and Egyptian, Greylag and Brent Geese brought a sprinkling of blissful wading birds and waterfowl to observe, evocative of autumn and winter for me. This month I also enjoyed seeing Buzzard, Red Kite, Jays, Kingfisher including at Winnall Moors and Lakeside in another strong month I had for them, Cormorant, Great Northern Diver, Slavonian Grebe, Mistle Thrush, Blackbirds, Robin, Great Tit, Blue Tit, Long-tailed Tit, Wren, Pied Wagtail and Tufted Ducks and Mute Swans which were especially nice to see on patch at Lakeside and a young one in Winchester respectively. Common Gull was another key bird seen this month with one returning to Lakeside which is always thrilling to see, with Herring Gulls enjoyed there too. I also took pleasure in some great Winchester Peregrine and Grey Wagtail and Lakeside Great Crested Grebe, Coot and Moorhen views this month. A dashing male Sparrowhawk at home was another special bird to see.

I got fine and immersive views of Fallow and Roe Deer this month, seeing a fair few New Forest Ponies, Grey Seal, Grey Squirrels and Brown Rats too. There was still some butterfly interest this month with some great views of a Red Admiral at Lakeside. Bee, wasp and hoverfly including marmalade hoverfly were also nice to see with Grey Silverfish and spiders seen well at home. It was a good month for plants still with a fair bit seen flowering including knapweed, marsh thistle, red campion, herb-Robert, hedgerow crane’s-bill, periwinkle, hedge woundwort, red clover, some early winter heliotrope and violet at and near Lakeside, hogweed, wild carrot, ragwort, petty spurge, dock, white deadnettle, stinging nettle, red deadnettle, groundsel, ivy-leaved toadflax, viper’s-bugloss, scentless mayweed, sea mayweed, oxeye daisy, daisy, dandelion, oxtongue, sow thistle, buttercups, ivy, rock samphire, red valerian, evening primrose, gorse, common heather, bell heather and cross-leaved heath. I enjoyed observing seed heads a lot this month with teasel, fleabane, spear and creeping thistle, wild carrot, hogweed, old man’s beard, purple loosestrife and hemp agrimony standing out and leaves including common toadflax, thistle and ferns. Apple, privet berries, rose hips and holly berries led the way for fruit seen.

Fungi once again played a key role in my month as I was captivated by enigmatic shaggy scalycaps and intricate patterns of turkey tail at Lakeside with the latter seen elsewhere too. Crowded parchment, waxcaps, dung-loving deconica, possible winter russula, pleated inkcap, earthball and parasol in a good autumn I’ve had for them and a notable new one for me seen a couple of times in the New Forest handsome club were other highlights. I also liked seeing moss and lichen including oakmoss. I took in a lot of charming landscape and sky scenes this month again with the splendour of autumnal colour continuing to grip the landscape giving way to morning frost scenes as winter crept in towards the end. Sunsets, sunrises and some great full moon scenes were wonderful to take in this month too alongside lake, wetland, coastal and New Forest woodland and heath vistas. Wishing you all a great December.

[evolutionsvoid]

I know I have said before that oceans get all the clout and legends when it comes to water bodies, with maybe swamps coming in at second place. There are many obvious reasons for that, but I want to remind folk that there can be fascinating and dangerous things lurking in any water body! Lakes were brought up in some previous entries, with mentions of the Glutwort and Berberoka being terrors found within. I mean, it could be said that lakes and ponds are just mini, salt-free oceans, and that the largest of these types can net the same horror stories and tales of mystery as the sea. But what about rivers? Certainly they deserve some mention as well! There are some neat things found in their depths and rapids! However, I feel the most I see on rivers and streams is them blocking paths and sweeping away fools who dare cross unprepared. The river is an obstacle, and less so a place of intrigue and discovery. What incredible legends are told about these water bodies? What tales of adventure and monsters are centered around such a location? None! None at all, and it is an absolute shame! (Bold claim for someone who doesn't read anything besides dusty tomes and research papers. Maybe one day you could stomach the idea of enjoying some different literature.) There is plenty to be found in these serpentine roads of water! Don't think the sea is the only one that has the monsters people crave! I know some folk in a certain region would happily inform you that the river can, indeed, harbor frightening beasts.

Below the white water and churning current, waiting in the dark muddy depths, is a great pale serpent. Its body can reach over three meters long, and its width is like that of a tree trunk. It has two powerful teeth that it uses as deadly weapons, dooming all it sinks them into. Now it may sound like a vicious viper, a truly monstrous water snake! However, this is no reptile! The beast I am describing is the Indus Worm, which is....well, a worm! And one of impressive size! The description I gave to you earlier was no lie, it is truly that big and it is a pale thing that lives in rivers. The two teeth I mentioned, which you probably envisioned as "fangs," are actually much thicker and broader. Like sharpened boards or a hefty beak, these nasty teeth are not known for venom but sheer strength. A single chomp can punch a hole through your body with ease, and bone turns to pathetic shards when met with this force. What a set of chompers! Wonder what they use those for?

In their early years, these hefty teeth are not really used for carnage. Their diet is mainly algae scrapped from rocks, eventually growing big enough to start gnawing on mussels and hard-shelled foods. At a small size, the teeth also serve as tools for carving holes and grooves into stone, which serve as a good place to hide from the current and predators. Though not big at devouring flesh at these stages, they are still capable of a nasty bite when threatened. Fishermen who haul one up from an accidental snag are sure to keep their fingers clear of their snapping jaws, lest they lose them. When the Indus Worm becomes an adult, that is when the diet gets more meaty. They are ambush hunters, slithering through the mud and murky water in search of prey. Shellfish are still on the menu, and help keep the belly full til something nice and big comes by for a drink. When a large animal stalks close to the water's edge, the Indus attacks. It bursts from the water and seeks to sink its massive teeth into the flesh of its victim. Unless the prey is quick to react and fast in movement, if the bite lands then it is typically over in an instant. Skulls are crushed, organs are punctured, and an entire limb may go missing if the assault misses its mark. Losing limbs and chunks of meat are the "lucky" option if you are able to move vitals out of range in time. Yes, dodging the bite entirely is preferable, but if you are being ambushed at such close range, you don't really get a say if that happens or not.

When the teeth latch on, prey is either dead or mortally wounded. From there, the Indus Worm drags them back into the river with it, where it may dine. With such powerful jaws, the Indus eats everything it can, gorging quickly before scavengers and unwanted guests show up for a free meal. If you are caught by an Indus Worm, just know that there will be nothing left to bury. Unless in your struggle it happens to lop off an arm and leave that behind at the scene. Due to bodies being reduced to paste in their jaws, some wonder how many disappearances near the river are from being washed away versus being taken by a worm. Honestly sounds like a scary story for the saplings already! Stay away from that river or else the worm will get ya! But in this case, the tale isn't a fictional one that conjures a boogeyman to be a stand-in for real life dangers. Seriously, don't go near the river because there actually is a worm!

Their presence makes these water bodies dangerous to those who live nearby, as any muddy shore could be hiding an Indus. They not only attack people, but are perfectly capable of dragging down camels and cows. So when your livestock or beasts of burden stop by for a drink, you have to be on your toes! You fail to secure the area and you could be losing an animal, or yourself! So to avoid this fate, folk will carry ropes with large hooks on the end, and throw them into the waters they wish to use. The movement may trigger an attack, or the barbs being pulled back to shore may snare a hiding worm. In most cases, the thrower will not have the strength to haul in such a catch, and merely cut the line to let the angered worm go. Its writhing and rage will spoil the hunt and make it leave, while also giving a brief window of safety for this section of water. It certainly isn't a perfect system, but I suppose it is the best they got at the moment. Nets are occasionally used, but that way is pretty costly as they are always torn to ribbons in the struggle. Some advice suggests seeking very shallow and clear waters, as it makes the worm easier to spot.

Now it may seem like people want nothing to do with these giant worms, avoiding them entirely. However, Indus Worms are actually hunted pretty frequently, as they fetch a high price! While the huge teeth may make fine trophies or carving material, what people actually want is their oil. What oil you ask? Well, you see, the Indus Worm is a pretty squishy soft thing, which makes it vulnerable to sharp rocks, toothy predators and parasites. So to protect itself, they possess bulbous glands running alongside their body that secretes an oil that coats their form. This oil easily survives water, is pretty bitter and is thick enough to ward off jagged points and hungry parasites. The coating is great for protection, but there is one detail that really gets people's attention: it is flammable.

Indus oil burns intensely, creating a potent flame that sears through anything caught in it. Due to the oily nature, it clings to people, armor and siege weapons, and is even capable of surviving water! The flames cannot be doused with water, they must be smothered, making them very hard to snuff out during battle or chaotic situations. This makes it a highly prized substance for war, sabotage and arson. Indus Worms are caught, killed and strung up above clay vessels, so that they can catch every drop of oil that falls from their sliced bodies. The demand and difficulty in obtaining this oil makes it very expensive, said to only be affordable for royalty and nobles. This oil also gives the Indus Worm a fatal weakness: stick it with flame and the whole beast will go up like dry tinder! However, this obviously consumes the oil, which renders the whole hunt pointless. With how much hypothetical money goes up in smoke when you burn one of these worms, I think folk may throw you in the river with the dying serpent in anger if you choose this method.

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

[taocom]

TAOCOM INTEGRAL MERZPROJEKT

Hundejahre Skulptur Serie - Red Lake Gold

Goldmouth, The Great Cuckoo, Mother Viper.

Finally attached the tiny Golden Eagle sculpture to final of the three sculptures of the RLG project. The Great Cuckoo. Got some photographs done, though still have editing and such, and am now getting a dozen or so more pages of documentation ready to complete the addition to the RLG Dokumenta in my long awaited website update - along with the rest of the completed artwork from the past year. Currently only one month behind schedule due to the book cover commission - will probably take at least another month to get everything in order. I also have to replace a number of corrupt files from my initial website launch - mostly work so far down the chronology that I’d seriously doubt that anyone has even run across it.

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Warrior Cats Prefixes- R

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

Rabbit-: "[noun] a burrowing, gregarious, plant-eating mammal with long ears, long hind legs, and a short tail"

Raccoon-: "[noun] a grayish-brown American mammal that has a foxlike face with a black mask and a ringed tail"

Ragged-: "[adj] torn; [adj] having an irregular or uneven surface, edge, or outline"

Ragweed-: "[noun] a North American plant of the daisy family. Its tiny green flowers produce copious amounts of pollen"

Ragwort-: "[noun] a yellow-flowered plant of the daisy family that is a common weed of grazing land"

Rain-: "[noun] moisture condensed from the atmosphere that falls visibly in separate drops"

Rainbow-: "[noun] an arch of colors formed in the sky in certain circumstances, caused by the refraction and dispersion of the sun's light by rain or other water droplets in the atmosphere"

Raindrop-: "[noun] a single drop of rain"

Rainy-: "[adj] (of weather, a period of time, or an area) having a great deal of rainfall"

Ram-: "[noun] a male sheep"

Rampion-: "[noun] a Eurasian plant of the bellflower family"

Rapid-: "[adj] happening in a short time or at a fast pace; [noun] a fast-flowing and turbulent part of the course of a river"

Raspberry-: "[noun] an edible soft fruit related to the blackberry, consisting of a cluster of reddish-pink drupelets; [noun] the plant that yields the raspberry, forming tall, stiff, prickly stems (canes)"

Rat-: "[noun] a rodent that resembles a large mouse, typically having a pointed snout and a long, sparsely haired tail"

Rattle-: "[verb] make or cause to make a rapid succession of short, sharp knocking sounds, typically as a result of shaking and striking repeatedly against a hard surface or object; [noun] a rapid succession of short, sharp, hard sounds"

Rattlesnake-: "[noun] a heavy-bodied American pit viper with a series of horny rings on the tail that, when vibrated, produce a characteristic rattling sound as a warning"

Raven-: "[noun] a large heavily built crow with mainly black plumage, feeding chiefly on carrion; [adj] of a glossy black color"

Ravine-: "[noun] a deep, narrow gorge with steep sides"

Red-: "[adj] of a color at the end of the spectrum next to orange and opposite violet, as of blood, fire, or rubies; [noun] red color or pigment"

Redwood-: "[noun] either of two giant conifers with thick fibrous bark"

Reed-: "[noun] a tall, slender-leaved plant of the grass family, which grows in water or on marshy ground"

Reflection-: "[noun] the throwing back by a body or surface of light, heat, or sound without absorbing it"

Resin-: "[noun] a sticky flammable organic substance, insoluble in water, exuded by some trees and other plants (notably fir and pine)"

Ridge-: "[noun] a long narrow hilltop, mountain range, or watershed"

Rime-: "[noun] frost formed on cold objects by the rapid freezing of water vapor in cloud or fog"

Ripple-: "[noun] a small wave or series of waves on the surface of water, especially as caused by an object dropping into it or a slight breeze"

River-: "[noun] a large natural stream of water flowing in a channel to the sea, a lake, or another such stream"

Roach-: "[noun] a scavenging insect that resembles a beetle, having long antennae and legs and typically a broad, flattened body"

Roam-: "[verb] move about or travel aimlessly or unsystematically, especially over a wide area"

Roaming-: "[adj] moving about aimlessly or unsystematically, especially over a wide area"

Robin-: "[noun] a small chiefly European thrush resembling a warbler and having a brownish-olive back and orangish face and breast"

Rock-: "[noun] the solid mineral material forming part of the surface of the earth, exposed on the surface or underlying the soil or oceans; [noun] a large piece of rock which has become detached from a cliff or mountain, like a boulder"

Rocky-: "[adj] consisting or full of rock or rocks"

Roe-: "[noun] a small deer, reddish and grey-brown, and well-adapted to cold environments"

Rolling-: "[adj] moving by turning over and over on an axis; [adj] (of land) extending in gentle undulations"

Rook-: "[noun] a gregarious Eurasian crow with black plumage and a bare face, nesting in colonies in treetops"

Rooster-: "[noun] a male domestic chicken"

Root-: "[noun] the part of a plant which attaches it to the ground or to a support, typically underground, conveying water and nourishment to the rest of the plant via numerous branches and fibers"

Rose-: "[noun] a prickly bush or shrub that typically bears red, pink, yellow, or white fragrant flowers, native to north temperate regions"

Rosehip-: "[noun] the ripened usually red or orange accessory fruit of a rose that consists of a fleshy receptacle enclosing numerous achenes"

Rosemary-: "[noun] an evergreen aromatic shrub of the mint family, native to southern Europe"

Rosette-: "[noun] rose-like marking or formation found on the fur and skin of some animals"

Rot-: "[verb] (chiefly of animal or vegetable matter) decay or cause to decay by the action of bacteria and fungi, aka decompose; [noun] the process of decaying"

Rough-: "[adj] having an uneven or irregular surface, one that's not smooth or level; [adj] (of a cat or their behavior) not gentle. Violent or boisterous"

Rowan-: "[noun] a mountain ash tree; [noun] the scarlet berry of the rowan tree"

Rubble-: "[noun] waste or rough fragments of stone"

Ruby-: "[noun] a precious stone consisting of corundum in color varieties varying from deep crimson or purple to pale rose"

Rue-: "[noun] small perennial shrub in the family Rutaceae used as a culinary and medicinal herb"

Rumble-: "[verb] to make a continuous deep, resonant sound; [noun] a continuous deep, resonant sound like distant thunder"

Running-: "[verb] the action of running"

Rush-: "[verb] move with urgent haste; [verb] dash toward (someone or something) in an attempt to attack or capture; [noun] a sudden quick movement toward something"

Russet-: "[adj] reddish brown in color; [noun] a reddish-brown color"

Russula-: "[noun] a widespread woodland toadstool that typically has a brightly colored flattened cap and a white stem and gills"

Rust-: "[noun] a fungal disease of plants which results in reddish or brownish patches"

Rustgill-: "[noun] a small and widely distributed mushroom which grows in dense clusters on dead conifer wood"

Rustle-: "[verb] make a soft, muffled crackling sound like that caused by the movement of dry leaves; [noun] a soft, muffled crackling sound like that made by the movement of dry leaves"

Rusty-: "[adj] reddish brown in color, resembling rust"

Rye-: "[noun] a cereal plant that tolerates poor soils and low temperatures"

[dirtanddistance]

Grandma's Marathon 2024 Race Recap: Sometimes, you PR. Other times, you're just trying to stay out of the ER.

A wise woman once told me "a marathon in 20 miles of hope and 6.2 miles of truth." At the 2024 Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, Minnesota, I can confidently say I did not get a full 20 miles of hope, and certainly got more than 6.2 miles of truth.

The first question you might be asking yourself about this race report is, "What on Earth were you doing in Duluth, Minnesota? You live in Canada. Your brother who went with you lives in Florida. You are not trying to qualify for Boston. If you were trying to qualify for Boston you are a day trip away from any number of other net downhill qualifying races. Explain yourself." Dear reader, winding up spending a long weekend in Minnesota with my brother is the consequence of a pact that we made last year to run a destination race (a marathon - this detail will matter later) together every year now that we do not live near each other, and we both are very much into running far. We both compiled wish lists of sorts for marathons we thought would be great adventures to go on together, and after running the Vancouver Marathon together last year, it was my brother's turn to choose. I honestly do not know what exactly made him select Grandma's Marathon, but of course as it is a very well reviewed and beloved event in the marathon world, it made it onto his list. I did not check his math on this decision. We signed up when registration opened, virtual high fived at our brilliant decision, and carried on with our lives.

We were not fully aware of the logistics that would come for us in the ensuing months. As you might have noticed, there is no mention of 'booking flights' or 'reserving hotel rooms' in our initial description. And that would be because we did not do any of those things until about 2 months before the race. I can confidently tell you that everyone else on the internet is right when they tell you that you should be booking your hotel for Grandma's the day after the previous year's race. We were ready to book an RV 38 miles outside of town on AirBnb before I finally found a hotel room with a much more reasonable location and amenities. Holding my nose and paying for the hotel room aside, it was time to book flights. Duluth, Minnesota is conveniently located pretty much between Florida and British Columbia, which sounds like a good compromise for two people 3,000 miles apart seeking a destination to meet in. What this does not mention is the fact that flying into the Duluth airport is prohibitively expensive, and you will be flying into Minneapolis, renting a car, and driving two and a half hours to Duluth instead. Now, for two siblings who haven't caught up in a minute, this is not a massive imposition and allowed for a memorable side quest for tacky souvenirs at the Mall of America. However, it is a less charming feature when you have to get back to the airport for one sibling's 9am flight on Monday morning after the race. All of this to say, if you are considering Grandma's Marathon, do not overlook the logistical details.

Warnings out of the way, I rolled out of bed at 3am on a Thursday morning and dragged myself through YVR onto what was thankfully a direct flight to Minneapolis. After an unremarkable plane ride (as unremarkable as hurtling through the sky in a metal tube to a destination over a thousand miles away), I landed in the Land of 10,000 Lakes and lumbered off the jetway to the sight of my little brother, clad in a matching pickleball jacket and shorts set with his Pit Viper sunglasses and a coffee in hand. We found our way to the car rental counter, where we discovered our first hurdle of the trip: some kind of crisis which resulted in us standing in a line for about an hour to pick up the rental car. This left us plenty of time to commiserate about air travel and snap a selfie for our ever-concerned mother. Car keys in hand, we rolled out to find some lunch at the famed Mall of America. Now, the Mall of America is the largest mall in the United States, maybe all of North America, I don't know. I find this claim a bit spurious because while it is a very big mall which contains an entire theme park and aquarium, a number of the retail stores are DUPLICATES. Which, fine, maybe you do need multiple Caribou Coffee locations in case fatigue strikes while you're several floors and a couple of wings separated from the coffee shop, but I will draw the line at multiple Bath and Body Works location in a single mall. This is the American Excess they warn you about. Anyway, we wandered the Nickelodeon Universe and wax nostalgic about the icons of our childhood before finding our way to the food court, the ultimate lunch destination for diametrically different dietary needs travel parties. I snagged the largest acai bowl I've ever seen (it was called 'yacht' size and while I don't think it could fit an entire Leonardo DiCaprio and whichever model he is currently dating, it was still a formidable opponent even for as hungry as I was) and waited up while my brother fetched a fried chicken sandwich meal from Popeye's, which he would later admit to regretting. We then proceeded to put in our first 10,000 steps in the land of 10,000 lakes by wandering every wing of every floor of the Mall of America in search of the perfect tacky treats to bring back to our loved ones and also so that we could say we'd walked the entire Mall of America and seen everything it had to offer. As someone who grew up in a state known for its endless theme park offerings and moved somewhere known for its endless natural amenities while also having tons of large and vibrant indoor shopping malls, I can't say that the Mall of America was for me, but if you ever happen to find yourself in the Twin Cities it was an interesting stop (and there is a food for every appetite in that food court).

Several hours, a stop at the oldest Target location, and numerous gossip topics later, we found ourselves at the hotel in Superior, Wisconsin. When the race materials suggested that the entire surrounding area was really invested in this event, I was not prepared for the random Holiday Inn we were staying at to be completely decked out for marathon weekend. Balloon banners, buckets of bananas and water bottles, little party favor bags in the rooms with more snacks and sunscreen and race-day instruction printouts. I have never been to an event where the city so thoroughly embraces the race weekend energy. We settled in before exhaustedly conceding that we did in fact have to eat dinner, and dragged ourselves to the Perkins across the street where we reminisced about our family's long abandoned ritual of weekly dinner at Perkin's after church on Sunday while I picked at a rather sad collection of side dishes (eating vegan in the Midwest isn't that hard. Eating vegan at Perkins on the other hand...).

Friday dawned and it was time to hit the race expo and check out a bit of downtown Duluth. The race expo had everything you'd expect... many booths hawking Gu and related products, headbands and shirts with cheesy slogans, booths touting methods to 'reset your nervous system' and 'refresh your blood'. After doing a maple syrup shot and drinking a few different flavors of Celcius, we grabbed our packets and were struck with immediate concern at the lack of t-shirts. As it turns out, Grandma's Marathon gatekeeps its finisher shirts and you will not be collecting one unless you cross that finish line yourself.

Friday evening brought the highly touted Michelena's All You Can Eat Spaghetti Dinner. I'm not certain I've ever seen so many people eating in one location, not even in a university dining hall. The quantities of pasta served were gargantuan. You are by default presented with two dinner rolls as your starting portion, with entire loaves of bread out on the table to follow up. Choccy milk and ice cream also abounded. For the low price of just under $20, there was truly no excuse for not being properly fueled for race day.

Speaking of no excuses, we arrive at race day (yes, I know, we're far into a race report for only just getting to the actual race now. Sorry not sorry). After being rudely awakened by two iPhone alarms perfectly in sync, we dragged ourselves through a semblance of a morning routine. Being so early, and being the more morning-oriented sibling of the two of us, I did succeed in convincing my brother to adorn himself with stick on face gems, as is my custom for races these days. He quite appropriately selected two teardrop shaped gems, "one for every marathon I've killed". Boys will be boys (wholesome) I suppose. We rolled up to the parking lot at the University of Wisconsin - Superior, and beheld the bus line to get to the starting line. This is another quirk of Grandma's Marathon - it is a point to point race, and you get to contemplate the full gravity of your decision to sign up for it on a half hour or so bus ride to the start line. I cannot imagine the logistics gymnastics required to get 9,000 people to the start lines via school buses, but after waiting in line for a bit in the misting rain as busload after busload ahead of us were ferried off, we got onto a bus and the journey truly began.

The starting line was a gauntlet of finish line drop bag collection trucks and porta potties, and a nervous huddled mass praying that the rain would continue to hold off on such a gray and dismal morning. We did our rounds of bathroom and stand-around-observing until it was time to surrender our jackets to the drop back trash cans to be reclaimed at the end of our Ordeal.

We shuffled into our packed corrals, and as the countdown proceeded and the gun went off, we trotted over the start line and down the highway. Now, I will say that the marathon course is quite pretty. You run along a two lane highway for miles and miles, sometimes getting a glimpse of the (angry and gray, on our race day) lake. It is a bit repetitive. You run along Superior for... well, basically the whole race. We were running along at a brisk clip, beating our pacing recommendations without much effort, chasing PRs (for us, sub 3:56:30). We made it to the half marathon point and continued along, but I quickly started to feel the pace catching up with me. By mile 15, I was starting to feel a bit dizzy and nauseous. My brother was doing ok, and he started to pull ahead. By Mile 17, we were officially separated out and my new goal was to stay out of the med tent and avoid an expensive trip to the emergency room. I was thirsty the entire time despite everything feeling sloshy and adhering religiously to my nutrition plan. My brain was simply not prepared for the reality of grinding out 26.2 miles as fast as I could manage on the road. I was quickly discovering that sandwiching a 'fast' road marathon between two trail ultras, without doing any speed workouts and avoiding road running to the greatest extent possible, was simply not something I had cracked this time around. I patted myself on the back metaphorically for coming to terms with my failure rather quickly and for deciding to grit my teeth and get to that finish line no matter how undignified I felt about it. This is where thing became surprising. Despite the pain, and the rain, and the fact that it was kinda cold (too cold to walk for the entire rest of the race for me), the entire race flew by. Even the miles I had to walk some of. I never was out there thinking, 'how much longer?! HOW WILL I ENDURE?!" It just... went by. It didn't matter that the course was kinda boring. It didn't matter that everything hurt and I didn't feel so good. I recalibrated my expectations, trucked along, enjoyed the silly signs and cheers of the spectators (they are just as enthusiastic after hours in the rain. Duluth has an A+ cheering section for sure). I paid attention to all of the makeshift aid stations with juice or beer or fruit. The sign that said "all toenails go to heaven". The fact that from what I could tell, the same spectators were moving from point to point, which is a feat of dedication in and of itself.

As I closed in on downtown Duluth in the final mile, the desire to just walk it in mounted. It was cold. It was rainy. I was over it. However, the spectators mercilessly encouraged anyone who dropped pace and I simply could not handle being yelled at to keep running, so I trudged along. Meters from the finish, the fellow next to me goes, "we're here! We did it!" in awe, and damn if I didn't kinda start crying because yeah, we are here, and we have done it. I have no idea what kind of journey it was for him (but from his tone I might guess it was his first marathon finish), and he had no idea that I too was feeling fairly awed by my ability to drag myself all the way to the finish line in spite of the many things that fell apart for me that morning. We both made it across the finish line, me with a new personal worst marathon time, and my new compatriot very dramatically dropped to his knees with his hands to the sky. I very quickly hobbled away at this point as that was not a narrative that I wished to be included in, and finally the pain and discontent had their chance to hit me full on. As I gimped along with my medal, a photographer flagged me to "Pose with your medal!". Which I totally did because no is not in my midwestern pedigreed vocabulary, but I quickly started crying seconds after that photo was taken. I was handed a mylar blanket (or 'heat sheet' as they called it) and continued my sad, damp, sniffly shuffle to find my brother. At this point I was aware of a new dire issue, which is that the empty Gu wrapper I had shoved in my side pocket under my phone felt as though it had chafed a hole through the side of my leg, and my only remaining consolation was that seeing as I had not passed my brother on the course, it was possible that he was having a slightly better day than me.

This hope was dashed as my eyes alighted on a sad red-headed boy sitting wrapped in a heat sheet under a tree. I hobbled over and also took a seat, at which point he says "I was going to go get my drop back but I can't get up". As the rain continued to fall, we looked forlornly at the lineups of people waiting to collect their drop bags. The competing desires of 'sit forever because wow my legs hurt' and 'I am going to freeze to death if I keep sitting here soaking wet with only a mylar blanket to my name' roiled in our heads until finally, the need to get dry and warmed up won out. While we did have to stand in line for a bit to finally reunite with our jackets and some dry clothes, I will say (full offense intended) that it was more organized than the Sun Run drop back pick up.

I will not go into graphic detail about peeling off clothes that are both sweat and rain soaked in a tent full of other sticky sweaty damp people, the floor blanketed in abandoned heat sheets. I was impressed to discover that while the wayward Gu packet that I was too polite to toss on the road did not bore a literal bleeding hole in my leg, I did have a chafe so bad that in subsequent hours and days it would scab over and make it difficult to sleep. Just when you think you've mastered your chafing prevention routine, nature finds a way.

The trial did not end with getting changed, however. Now that we were warm, dry, and in pain, it was time to hobble the quarter mile or so to the finish line bus stop. Finally checking our phones, we saw our mom's request for additional photos and snapped a very grumpy selfie on the way. Every foot step was a new nightmare as every few seconds one of us thought aloud, "are we there yet?" Finally we reached the buses; I will be the first to tell you that there is nothing more enjoyable than riding an un-air conditioned school bus packed full of sticky, sweaty, damp adults.

We finally made it back to the hotel in a torrent of vague discomfort and grumbling, cleaned up, and landed in the Nirvana that was the clean hotel beds with our respective Nintendo Switch/Steam Decks and snacks. When dinner time rolled around, we ventured back out (full of complaints) to a well reviewed Mexican restaurant. When I tell you this place was sketchy as hell to find, I am not exaggerating. We got lost on a 5 minute drive to the place. The windowless venue on the side of a larger warehouse type building was menacing and did not look like a promising place to find a post-marathon meal. However, upon opening the door, we were greeted by a delightful interior and more tortilla chips than either of us could safely house in our GI tracts. Sometimes, there are secrets to be found in the unlikeliest of places.

The remainder of the trip involves BOGO sourdough loaves, 'vacation coffee', and limping around Duluth the following day which was miraculously sunny. More important than any one thing we did on this trip, though, was the chance to just hang out together. We hadn't gotten to go on a sibling side quest that wasn't a funeral or funeral-adjacent in... well, a very long time. And while those tough experiences brought us together and shaped who we are, it's only in quiet moments of mundane togetherness that you truly get to enjoy who another person is.

In conclusion, our pilgrimage to Duluth taught me a few things.

Always check the full logistics before signing up for a race.

I have to do speed workouts if I want to run PR times. Lame.

We would've crushed a half marathon. Too bad we were signed up for a full marathon.

You should consider cherishing and curating your personal worst performances with as much love and care as your personal best performances.

Just because you hit a physical wall does not mean you need to build a mental wall to match, and your ability to scale your mental walls directly correlates to how you will navigate your physical walls.

The refried beans you eat after a marathon are the best refried beans you will ever experience in your life.

Consider travel insurance if you want to embody the PR-or-ER ethos.

Having a buddy, whether or not you run together, can very easily help you find a 'why' on a tough run. And that 'why' can be 'I need to not keep my brother waiting so long that he loses any remaining respect for me so no more walking'.

Road or trail, rain or shine, PR or ER, there's always more to learn about yourself and others out there.

[whgmasterofceremonies]

WHG 21 Day 1

The first day of the 21st round of the Writeblr Hunger Games begins! Our 12 contestants hoping to prove themselves and achieve great destinies are set on pedestals around a flat span of astroturf. In the center is a large cornucopia full of things they could possibly need as they fight for the title of Ultimate Chosen One over the next few days.

A minute counts down for them to take in their surroundings. A suspiciously picturesque forest lies in one direction, elegant plains to another, and brooding mountains to the north. The choices are endless, but in the end, only one fate will remain for each hopeful hero. Only one can be crowned victor. Which one will it be?

The first cannon blasts, and we begin to find out.

The excitement begins! Rod and Belle get a little too into the spirit of things, but we also see a whole lot of teamwork out of our little group! On the other hand, we have about half of our crew going in empty-handed, but hey, at least nobody dies--er, gets disqualified--right off the bat.

The high energy of the initial gathering fades as the tributes run in opposite directions, each finding their own fun. Natural-looking floors give way to mechanical rooms, trees twist like turrets at their roots, and alabaster tricks and traps interrupt the landscape.

Cassian, Viper, and Rod completely ignore all that really cool setup, but Rantha Cathartes and Safirel Beynleyra have a little more spunk! I fear Safirel may have inadvertently caused Chess to have a rough first day, and Layla and Liz Bethany have discovered one of the more combative traps, but the rest did a great job sticking together!

(Oh my gosh Daisy Belle is straight-up a tree person and I set her on fire I am so sorry honey)

It's been a healthy first day as everyone hangs on like champs for those first twelve hours! No cannons mark the day's losses, because we're all winners here, haha. Oh, but for how long? How courageous and determined will you stay when the sun goes down and the nightmares come out to play?

Night is all about reflections and facing the things that haunt you. In Viper and Liz's case, those things are just other people. (Layla, seriously? Insult to injury?) Actually, Chess catches a break that Drest would be jealous of, and while everyone was able to overcome their demons tonight, I'd say Cassian came out of this evening as the biggest winner. Rantha Cathartes...at least you got some sleep.

With many tributes shaken yet victorious and others hungry but unharmed, it's still anyone's game. Until tomorrow, my friends...May the odds be ever in your favor.

Chess (she/her), @concealeddarkness13

Adrestia “Drest” (she/her), @concealeddarkness13

Cassian (he/him), @concealeddarkness13

Rantha Cathartes (he/him), @maple-writes

Viper (she/her), @maple-writes

Safirel Beynleyra (he/him), @pen-of-roses

Liz Bethany (she/her), @waltzshouldbewriting

Lucatet (he/him), @ratracechronicler

Daisy Belle (she/her), @ratracechronicler

Glidon (he/they), @forthesanityofstorytellers

Layla (she/they), @forthesanityofstorytellers

Rod (he/him), @forthesanityofstorytellers

Text transcription of events:

The Bloodbath

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.

Daisy Belle does not look where she is looking and falls into a lake but is fine.

Cassian, Lucatet and Chess spontaneously work together to grab a heavy crate and drag it away, then split the loot.

Glidon, Rantha Cathartes and Liz Bethany spontaneously work together to grab a heavy crate and drag it away, then split the loot.

Rod acquires weapons with suspicious enthusiasm.

Drest runs away from the Cornucopia.

Viper runs away from the Cornucopia.

Layla covers Safirel Beynleyra, who navigates as the two head for higher ground.

Day 1

Rantha Cathartes has to clear an obstacle course to acquire food.

Cassian manages to sleep through most of the day.

Layla and Liz Bethany are dropped into a pit and forced to brawl. Layla wins and is allowed to leave while Liz Bethany stays for the rest of the day.

Bugs sting Chess, causing her to vividly relive her worst pains.

Safirel Beynleyra encounters a statue that poses riddles. He answers incorrectly and is rewarded with a swarm of bees.

Viper manages to sleep through most of the day.

Rod manages to sleep through most of the day.

Daisy Belle, Lucatet, Glidon, and Drest are drawn to a beautiful meadow. It bursts into flames and they work together to get each other out.

Disqualified Tributes

No cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Night 1

Rantha Cathartes climbs into a tree and sleeps fitfully.

Thanks to holograms, Lucatet's worst nightmares bleed into the real world, but Lucatet overcomes them.

Important figures from Drest's life appear in her dreams to discourage her.

Important figures from Chess's life appear in her dreams to encourage her.

Rod sabotages Viper's supplies.

Monstrous beasts from Cassian's life attack, but he pacifies them and even wins one's loyalty.

A shadow version of Glidon shows up and fights him, but Glidon wins.

A shadow version of Safirel Beynleyra shows up and fights him, but Safirel Beynleyra wins.

Layla sabotages Liz Bethany's supplies.

Thanks to holograms, Daisy Belle's worst nightmares bleed into the real world, but Daisy Belle overcomes them.

[herpsandbirds]

Great Lakes Bush Viper aka Nitsche’s Bush Viper (Atheris nitschei), female, family Viperidae, Rwenzori mountains, Uganda

Venomous.

photograph by Frank Deschandol

[windforkthewriter]

My trip through hell: The story.

My mom took my brothers and me on a mountain trip. She decided that we would all go, no arguments could be booked, and so, we went on our way. 

Now, one of the things I hate the most is hiking, at least, hiking in a tropical rainforest, is that everything wants to kill you. Everything from the plants to the bugs and arachnids to the weather. No one is your friend. It's kill or be killed. 

So, after a two-hour car ride, and then another half hour of winding roads, we stopped at a trail entrance. Even though it wasn't the one we were planning to go on originally. 

Anyway, we unpacked the car and started down the stone pathway. We walked a good five minutes before we realized that the path would keep going, so we sat ourselves down on the floor and ate lunch.

The cicadas were deafening and the giant hornets were giant. For lack of a better word. Giant and vicious. Bees sting you when threatened, Bumble bees give you a nibble every once in a while but Hornets? Hornets don't even have to land on you to sting, and some might say, "With great power comes great responsibility." but no, if the hornet wants to sting you, it will.

So we were sitting on the floor, ducking the occasional hornet and crunching on our fresh vegetables when one of my brothers, one of the observant ones, noticed a snake. A white-lipped pit viper to be exact. The thing was perched on a branch, directly above the path, swaying precariously with the wind. 

We had to edge past it. 

My mom put everything back in the car and we set out. We walked by all manner of things. I saw leaves with sharp thorns as large as my finger sticking out. Above our heads, the massive webs of golden orb weaver spiders sat. 

I hated every step. I should've been grateful, for my time with my family, for my interesting adventure, and for the exploration of an environment so alien that they would've given their right arm to experience what I was experiencing now. I would've given both to get out of there.

I was a little ridiculous, I admit. My mother had requested no complaining, so I did it mentally. I stared at the floor, willing everything to disappear and mentally repeating, "I want to go home." with a, "I hate this," and a, "Kill me now." mixed in as well.

We walked along a river and over some rocks until we came to an end. It was a calm little river, and at the end of the trail sat on a rock overlooking a small lake. I prepared to turn around with a cheery, "Well that's it, adventure over, let's go home now," on my lips when my stupid, reckless, ridiculous family decided to go on a dirt trail that looked very un-trodden. Suicide essentially. 

The path was hugged by rainforest leaves, barbs of death, and snakes. That was something I was sure of. So I refused. I declared that I would wait on the rock until they came back and sat myself down. Little did I know that however bad I felt before, this was going to be the worst of it.

I was foolish, I admit. My family was not known for going down the same trail twice. I believed, wholeheartedly, that they would return and that all would be well.

I spent the first two hours on that rock staring into space.

I watched water bugs zoom across the surface, leaving little ripples, and the fish swam by me. For a while I was content. But I was tired, so I lay my head down on the rock and daydreamed. 

I only knew that I had fallen asleep because Prince Arthur, from Merlin, leaned down over me and brayed like a donkey. I sat up sharply, terrified and feeling slightly sick. 

I sat forlornly on my rock for another hour. I heard a hint of thunder but thought I was being paranoid because, of course, I was thinking of ways to run like a coward. Back to the car, back to warmth, safety, and my Kindle. But I would show them. I wouldn't leave until they came back. 

I wanted to do it right. I couldn't complain about it later if I had had a good time. So I sat out my self-made sentence on that rock.

Twenty minutes later something large almost the entire length of my arm appeared out of the corner of my eye. I shot up and watched in horror as a massive snake swam three feet away from me. When I stood I must've startled it, which scared me even more. A human and snake, terrified of each other. What a joke.

It must've deemed the cost clear and resurfaced. It climbed up onto the bank on the other side of the lake, thankfully quite far from me. I watched petrified as it lazily disappeared into the underbrush.

I sat down again. Why? I will never really know my reasoning. I counted under my breath. I sang out loud. I did a little dance, a rather pathetic dance to be honest, all in the hopes of alerting the nearby fauna that, "Yes I am alive," and "Please don't kill me."

It started to rain. A very light shower. I stayed.

Thunder boomed, and the trees showered leaves and water all around me. I stayed. 

Three small, lightning-quick snakes darted, at three different points, within three minutes of each other. Three is not the magic number. I left. 

I stood and hurriedly quickly marched myself back into the woods. I panicked. This is why I didn't leave, this is why I endured the hell of that dry little rock. I was terrified to walk the path back to my car, alone. Because I walked quietly because I didn't speak, so the snakes wouldn't know that I was coming.

I started jogging. I shouted the letters of the alphabet, "A is for Antichrist, and anteater..." etc etc etc. 

The storm grew above me and my terror caught in my throat. I started to reason with nature. I argued that my love for animals and appreciation for all things, great and small, gave me a free pass. 

I screamed at the bushes, imploring them to understand that I was a nice person. 

One of the worst parts was that my flight or fight reflexes were so strong. Every leaf that fell near me made my body stutter, in an attempt to hit it before my senses came back and resisted the urge. 

So as I ran, and panicked and held back tears.

My breaking point came when a very large, inquisitive, oriental garden lizard held me up in the middle of the road. It stared at me, I stared at it. I tried to scare it out of my path. But it was fearless. I wish I were that brave. 

It watched me, and when I tried to edge past it, on that narrow path, it took a step towards me. It knew that I was terrified, and it also knew that it held all the power. So that lizard watched me as I writhed and pleaded and sobbed my heart out. Then, it let me pass. 

I continued to sob as I passed it, and took a startled run when it followed me a couple steps. Yes, I was terrified of a lizard. I am never terrified of lizards, I enjoy learning and writing and taking pictures of them. I even had a pet Iguana once. At any rate, it wasn't a normal day.

I must've been quite the education for the lizard. Not acting like a normal person who trampled his home and poked sticks at him. It must've been quite an ego raise to see me the way he did. 

After my interaction with the devil (see above), I started jogging. I ran out of alphabet letters and just started screaming curse words, for lack of better things to say. I had tried peaceful negotiations, I had tried empathy, I had tried everything except aggression.

I stormed back to the car, threatening anything and everything I saw with stabbing to evisceration. I'm not proud.

The rain hit me like sharp needles. I was desperate to be saved. I saw the car and I had never loved it more. All around the car, hornets and horseflies swarmed, trying to get out of the rain. But I ran towards them, into the valley of death, and pulled on the car door handles. 

The car was locked. 

My mother never locks the car. 

I run to every single door and tug fruitlessly. I think, "This is okay, it will be okay, you'll be fine." When I happen to glance at one of the car tires. One of the tires which happens to be flat. 

"Oh my god," I think. "and I thought it couldn't get any worse."

I ended up sitting down on the floor, by the car, letting the pounding rain pummel my head. If I wasn't so exhausted I would have slammed myself into a wall for being so stupid. 

To conclude the story, I have several small notes to add. 

My mother had left the rest of the hiking group at a road stop and had returned to drive the car and pick them up. 

Moments before she returned I waved down a car and asked politely to use their phone. I called my mother, uttered some halfhearted jab about how great the trip had been, and then told her the tire was flat. 

When they arrived at the car I waited for them to formulate a plan. 

Fortunately, a nice local happened to drive by on his e-bike and spot our trouble. He stopped and immediately helped with the car. He changed the tire, helped blow up the donut, and sent us on our way. 

He refused any form of payment or gift. So before our angel rode off, my mother secretly stashed some money in his bike. She told him to check it later. 

And that is how I walked through hell. I hope you enjoyed my pain and suffering.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 4: Black Tide Rising

Narrated by no one.

Narrator: Flo took one last longing gaze at the crumbling altar and murmured his final prayer to the ancient god.

Flo: Great Arionus, I will follow you to the ends of the world, 'til the forests die and the oceans dry up...

Narrator: With every word that fell from his lips, Flo's misty form dissipated bit by bit into specks of deep blue floating lights, like warm, passionate teardrops.

Narrator: The swaying sparks gathered around Mercury's hand, bleeding bit by bit into the azure gem.

Flo: Great Arionus, heed my prayers...

Narrator: Flo's last words faded away into the mist. The wisp that only remained for so long due to obsession finally accepted its demise.

Narrator: Elves, after all, were destined to come back to nature. Flo's dedication brought him prolonged pain, but he never stopped seeking his god even to the very end.

Narrator: What he never realized, though, was that the person who brought him the ray of hope was never a believer of the God of Water to begin with.

Narrator: Mercury's New Moon gem began to gleam, more brightly than ever before. A wild force surged in it as the ancient powers were finally ready to be awakened.

Mercury: The time has come to prepare.

Narrator: As the light dimmed, calm returned to the space. The last tear fell to the ground, trampled beneath uncaring feet on the way out.

Narrator: Mercury Group has always been highly efficient. Viper and his men fished the stele out of Lake Bovaly quickly, and Alan soon translated it.

Narrator: Hymns singing the praises of Arionus, the God of Water, were etched upon the stele, and contained many more clues toward awakening the god.

Narrator: The songs and poems of old are often nothing more than idle grasps at romance, but a sharp eye can divine the truth within them.

Narrator: The explorations of Lake Bovaly opened a viable path for Mercury, and the gates of the abyss shall likewise open for him with Arionus' awakening.

Narrator: Mercury heads to the open sea, to tell the Elves of Water that he has found where Arionus is sealed.

Narrator: Mercury vowed to the leader of the Water Elves to wake up Arionus, to break the blood oath between the Elves of Water and Light with the aid of the gods...

Narrator: ...and to lead them in a conquest to retake the continent.

Water Elf Leader: The friend of my people shall bring back our great ancestor, and reclaim our long-lost glory.

Narrator: The tribe, desperate for anything that would further their vengeance, has no reason to turn down his aid...

Narrator: ...and thus Mercury receives the scepter, passed down through the generations, from the leader.

Narrator: At the same time, Alan gives Ophelia the ancient Pigeon codex, which records Glory originates from flame.

Ophelia: The road ahead may be littered with thorns and traps, but I will forge ahead regardless and recover Pigeon's glory at the road's end.

Narrator: The puppet queen who will do anything to restore her kingdom's glory will not give up this opportunity...

Narrator: ...and will soon venture into the Mist Forest alone, in search of the altar of the Fire Elf.

Narrator: Everything is proceeding according to plan. All he has to do now is wait.

Narrator: The altar deep in the Mist Forest quickly lights up with blue and red flames.

Narrator: The Pigeon coast is beset by tidal waves as the Elves of Water await the return of their ancestor.

Narrator: The tides may be enough to rouse those slumbering nobles from their idle fancies, if only for a moment.

Narrator: Yet Pigeon's glory shall not be destroyed in this disaster.

Narrator: The Elves of Water are too proud, too strong. They've been broken down by too much despair, and are all too willing to place their trust in others.

Narrator: Sequestered away in the deep sea for centuries, they have precious little knowledge of the state of the world.

Narrator: The stronger their desire for revenge, the further they stray from their goals.

Narrator: Everything is prepared. Arionus, the God of Water, shall open the connection between Pigeon Forest and the Ocean of Memories.

Narrator: It lies there, in the heart of the forest, where the elven prince is already headed.

Narrator: As he's said from the beginning, this is all but an experiment to peer into the Abyss.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[catchmeifyoucansalvatore]

Killian,

I rewrote the beginning of this letter over and over again. Nothing remained for long but your name, staring back at me from the first line, forcing my heart to crash against the walls of my chest; like an animal in a cage. I feel your absence like insects miss the light and I fear that my days, even if they are filled with the realisation of my trivial little desires, will become nothing more than a heap of indissoluble darkness.

I understand that it was my choice to cut across the ocean and that only I have to deal with the disastrous consequences of my ambition - but, at least for this moment, while we're alone, can I afford the luxury of regret? Of your qualities, the fact that you didn't judge my reckless attitudes was always one of the most beautiful, always ready to hold my hand when the journey I chose was too long for my lungs - always ready to catch my body exhausted by risky decisions.

England has been nothing but unfinished lessons and petty desires. Lucy has been very patient in teaching me the piano; for the first time in two months, she hasn't used the whip to correct my wrong movements. I've been reading tirelessly, the history of the stars, of the earth, of human nature in its most liquid form; I say this because we are taught that, apart from bodies, our greatest insight into human beings lies in their minds, not just in the way their skin protects them or their organs operate, but in their psyches. With so many discoveries, I feel even more insane. It's as if knowing how the human brain works is gradually melting mine almost completely - not because it's too much teaching, too much content or too difficult, but because studying feelings makes them too real. And feeling always brings me to the point that I miss you. I miss you so much that I could jump right out of this window if I were sure that you were waiting for me. I'd choose to drown myself in Lake Buttermere, where we practise arrow shooting, just to make sure you'd be there... Sitting under-water... Waiting for me.

Silly... I know.

I think of New York every night. I think of you as soon as my eyes open in the morning and every time I'm transported to the world of dreams. I think of you when I'm alone and when the world of literature seems to say your name; those damned poems, about soul, body and hearts that coil around each other like snakes. Killian. Killian. Killian. I think of you at the most inappropriate moments a lady should think - or be. Like when Gennevivie removes the ties from my dress and I remember how quickly your fingers slid through the silk, knowing my armour as well as my body. I think of you when I bleed, certain that this is the only way to endure the torments of my new life; I think of you every time I wonder how long it would take for Vronsky to realise that one of his poisons is missing. I think of you with the same rebelliousness, harshness and brutality as a viper on fire.

But you don't belong to me. Of course you don't.

You promised you'd save me. And you said we didn't need much. You made me believe that my choices were right, that all my sacrifices would somehow, if you were the right person, return me to your arms.

And I hate you so much for making me believe that.

You said I should finally use this time to write my book. To let my mind run wild, through the poison of pain and loneliness and sadness and despair, to untie those knots, to spit out my insanity and the acid sweat that you said was pouring from my collarbones; you said I could use my words to spill my demons out of me, like rain, like blood from my wrists.

But, my love, my evil darling... In this hell, all my damn words are about you.

I dream of being in your arms again. After our great war; when we're out of danger.

When our enemies disappear.

If we are unable to realise our dream,

Who knows, I think to myself, alone, in the waves of my despair,

Would you save a bullet for me?

With aching love,

Yulia.

ps: please remember to burn this one too.

Yulia Skarzara's letter, from the Kazhiev Chronicles by A.L.