#I am Not going to work at some rundown camp in the middle of nowhere!!

[habken]

Watched friday the 13th and the last bit where mrs voorhees is like “I used to work here in the kitchen and my son drowned cause those pesky teen counsellors were too busy boinking,” me personally, I would not have picked up on her murderous intent

I would’ve sympathized with her like “woah that’s awful, how could they be so irresponsible omg mrs voorhees I’m so sorry” and then she would’ve stabbed me real good

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragments II

Part I here

Word Count: 2,516

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Second chapter here we go! I’ve been very excited to continue this series, and I hope you find it as fun to read as it was to write. I already have mapped out a plan for where the story is going, though I’m not sure how many chapters it will take. We’ll see how it goes!

Dear Signora,

I am happy to inform you that the task you sent me has been completed. The fortune teller, though they still refuse to reveal their name, appears to be somewhat legitimate. I’m not sure what you’re going to do with this information, but I hope you’re prepared for a difficult time, as…

 Scaramouche sighed, putting his pen down, although not after scribbling haphazardly on the paper in front of him. It had been two weeks since he’d first recruited the mysterious clairvoyant, and altogether nothing of consequence had happened. Not for lack of trying, of course; the Harbinger had taken to banging on the door of an inn almost every day, demanding that the unwilling coworker inside come out and do something. Honestly Scaramouche was surprised he hadn’t been asked to vacate the premises at this point, though of course that wouldn’t’ve stopped him. Still it was becoming a tiring ritual, and though Scaramouche himself wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant when he suggested you work with him, he was certain this wasn’t it. Something had to happen, and soon. If not, well the Harbinger wasn’t above kidnapping unwilling colleagues; regardless of their threats to burn down his living space.

“At the very least I’m getting them out of that damned inn.” Scaramouche muttered to himself, for the time wasted was appalling, the inn being located not in your own village, the closest villager to the camp, but in one farther away. Standing up, crumpling the unfinished letter in his hands and throwing it into the trash, Scaramouche walked out of his tent and towards the now all too familiar road. He wasn’t doing this anymore.

Walking along the road, unfortunately there were no waypoints in villages this small, Scaramouche thought over the whole matter once more. He’d not expected you to agree to his offer of working with him, especially not after supposedly reading his future. Nor had he expected to truly believe you. And yet something about your demeanor had certainly changed since you’d looked into his future, accepting his proposal aside. Scaramouche wasn’t one to pry about such things, he didn’t really care what you saw in his future, especially after your revelation that doing so wasn’t an exact science. He had to admit though that the longer this went on the more he wondered what exactly you had seen. What had you seen to make you agree to his proposal, then refuse to even open your door to him? Or had you simply said yes on a whim and were now regretting your decision?

It was baffling to Scaramouche, and what he didn’t know or understand irritated him. He was a harbinger, and though you might’ve been blessed by the gods or some such thing, you’d still agreed to work with him. He’d see this through, if it was the last thing he did.

 The inn was just as rundown as it had been the day before, and Scaramouche’s feet dragged as he made his way up the stairs towards the offending door. Knocking as softly as he could, not wanting to bother the other rooms and get kicked out, he called out. “It’s time for you to get to work. You’ve had two weeks to recover from whatever shock you’d had in the woods, and now you must uphold your promise.”

 You stared at the door, still lying on the bed, the place where you’d spent most of your time recently. This routine had played out for two weeks, and you were becoming tired of it. Honestly, couldn’t the idiot realize when he wasn’t wanted? You thought that you’d made it clear enough.

Ignoring the banging for a moment you stared up at the ceiling. Two weeks, for two weeks you’d agonized over what you’d seen. What you’d expected to be dulled by time still came as a shock, and if you closed your eyes the image of you smiling at the Harbinger danced around in front of you. You didn’t regret your decision to work with Scaramouche, the determination for a better future still lay firmly in your heart; but you hadn’t realized how much personal agony it would cost. Certainly your now conflicting feelings weren’t helping, as you couldn’t help but wonder if your sudden awareness of the person now knocking on your door was caused by anything genuine, or simply by what you saw might come to pass.

The knocking was louder now, and you groaned, dragging yourself out of bed, thankful that you’d at least had the sense to have changed out of your pajamas. You were going to answer him today. It was what you’d been telling yourself all morning. You couldn’t live at this inn forever, the bill was beginning to rack up terribly. And, conflicting feelings or not, you weren’t about to steal away in the middle of the night. That would be perhaps the stupidest move one could make when dealing with a Fatui harbinger to whom one had made a promise.

 Scaramouche let out a huff of surprise and relief as the door suddenly began to make way. This was some progress. Usually your early morning conversation was shouted through the closed door. Although you barely appeared from behind the door at first Scaramouche could see the improvement in your health. At least now you didn’t look to be constantly seconds away from once more passing out. As if reading these less than generous thoughts you scowled. Looking around, as if making sure there was no one around, you grabbed Scaramouche by the wrist and dragged him into the room, closing the door with a firm click behind you.

Though the inn was certainly bedraggled, the room you were housed in seemed nice enough. The furniture was sparse, only a bed, a small table, a chair, and a pair of sad looking dressers. Sitting down cross legged on the bed you pointed towards the chair. Smirking, Scaramouche sat down.

“Are we not talking today?” He asked snidely.

“Nice to know your personality hasn’t improved.” You shot back.

“Maybe I’d be a bit more amenable if you had left this room at all in the past two weeks. Do you even eat?”

“Thank you for so graciously caring for my wellbeing, but I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“We had an agreement.”

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you hold to it?” Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, his temper wearing increasingly thin. He didn’t like yelling, found it beneath him; yet right now he wanted nothing more than to find some secluded area and scream. Letting out a hiss of a breath he shook his head. “Why did you let me in if you won’t even look at me?”

As if on cue your head snapped forwards. Although it seemed as if you were about to say something your expression quickly shifted into something unreadable. You said nothing, simply staring at him, that odd, opaque expression leading him to silence as well. The transformation was so sudden that it managed to throw the Harbinger completely off guard, and he found himself scrutinizing you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking of.

As you continued to stare at him Scaramouche realized that he was losing time. Shaking his head slightly, he spoke again.

“I want you to move into the camp.”

“Over my dead body.” You replied venomously, the spell obviously broken. “I refuse to live surrounded by members of the Fatui.”

“Well then where are you going to live, you can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ll… figure something out.”

“I’m offering you a solution to your housing problem. You can even live on the edge of the camp; but I refuse to continue this song and dance of walking six miles just to get you up. Consider it part of your work benefits.”

“What a lovely benefit, being housed against your will.”

“You made it perfectly clear you have nowhere else to go. You abandoned your village, you’ve holed yourself up in a random inn, you made a promise, an agreement, to work for me. Have you forgotten that?”

“Of course I haven’t!” You snapped, once more tilting your head towards the wall. “How could I forget after what…” You trailed off.

“After what?” Scaramouche pressed, but you shook your head, merely glancing at him once more.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it’s affecting our bargain. Something must’ve happened. You’ve been acting, strangely.”

“How would you know how I act?” You scoffed. “Anyways, my behavior is none of your business. I promised to work with you, and I will, if only to stop this stupid conversation. But I won’t move in with the Fatui. They’re the worst sort of organization. Besides,” you added, voice lowering slightly. “I’m not comfortable staying in unfamiliar places.”

There was a pause in the conversation, as Scaramouche wracked his brain. He needed to get this to work. He couldn’t stand this; no matter what, he’d make sure this conversation didn’t drag on any longer.

“Fine then,” Scaramouche finally sighed, “let’s make a deal.”

“We seem to be making an awful lot of those.”

“It’s the only way apparently to get you to do anything. Here’s the deal. I arrange it so you’re allowed to use your own furniture and belongings in your tent. You can use one of the extra harbinger tents, they should be big enough for that. If I promise to do so, will you promise to move out?”

“I’m not letting random Fatui members sack my house, not even on your orders.”

“Then do it with the. I’ll just send some men to carry the heavier furniture, you can handle the rest. Agreed?”

You paused, staring at him, expression much more readable this time, being one of distrust. Still, eventually you nodded your head and Scaramouche finally began to feel some sort of relief.

“Good. Now pack whatever you have. Thankfully it’s early enough to have this finished today.”

And with that he stood up, not bothering to look behind at you as he walked across the room and out the door.

 --------- 

Scaramouche entered the tent, nearly running into you in the process. You glanced back at him, letting out a quick “sorry”, before scurrying over towards your cot – your bed had ended up being too bulky to move.

“I see you’ve finished.” Scaramouche spoke up, feeling slightly awkward, not sure how to converse with you in a way that wasn’t arguing. Luckily you didn’t seem to notice, nodding enthusiastically.

“It’s so odd to seem my dresser on the grass floor.” You giggled softly.

The Harbinger stared for a moment, realizing that this was the first time he’d seen a genuine smile out of you. It was almost transformative, and for a moment he found himself forgetting all the haggling it took for you to get here. Walking towards you, slightly unaware of what he was doing, he stopped a few inches away from you. You seemed caught unaware, and as you stared at him your smile slowly faded, instead replaced once more by that odd expression you carried when you look at him. This time you seemed a bit more agitated however, and instead of lingering you shook your head slightly, walking sideways towards the dresser you’d just mentioned. Suddenly aware of himself Scaramouche mimicked the gesture, stepping back towards the tent opening.

“Well,” he said, voice stilted, “I’m glad that we’ve finally resolved this. I’ll let them send dinner to your tent tonight, though I expect you to eat with everyone else afterwards. I’ll see how you are later.” And, not wanting to start another argument and still trying to process what had just happened, Scaramouche marched out of the tent.

The late afternoon air was finally beginning to cool down, and Scaramouche took in several deep breaths. Not wanting to deal with the presence of various underlings he made his way out of the camp and towards the woods, the woods in which, about five miles away from here, he’d met you for the first time. Now, leaning against a tree, he thought back on that night, on everything that had happened since then. Mostly he thought about the odd experience in the tent.

Scaramouche hadn’t really meant to walk up to you, he found being the proximity of people odious most of the time. The action was completely instinctive, devoid of any motive to intimidate or to scare. It was just, it was just the fact that he’d liked your smile, it had drawn him in, literally, apparently. As had your expression, what was that expression? He wanted to ask about it again, wanted to know what was going on. This whole experience was alien to Scaramouche, your interactions all the more so. A normal underling would’ve never talked back, would’ve never forced concessions out of him. And yet that wasn’t the only abnormal thing. A normal underling would’ve never been so important, and, more importantly, would’ve never drawn such a strange reaction out of him. A reaction he was still feeling the effects of.

It wasn’t simply walking up to you, no, nothing was that simple. It was how he’d felt, the way he didn’t mind being that close, wanted it even. The way a part of him was somewhat disappointed when you – rightfully – drew away. Even now he still felt those lingering feelings, that alien want to be closer to someone, to learn about them, to… what? That was the beginning and the end of it, wasn’t it? He wanted something, and he didn’t even know what that something was. Information he supposed. It was always that in the end; something that he could use, a bargaining chip. Maybe he just was getting tired of these concessions.

 It was dark by the time Scaramouche returned to your tent. You were slouched forward on your cot, a book held up to your face, your attention utterly captivated. Looking up at the shuffling of feet you saw the Harbinger staring at you, as opaque as before. Although your initial instinct was once more to look away you instead met his gaze, letting out the faintest crack of a smile.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was nothing. If you’re going to be my clairvoyant assistant, well, this was for the best.”

Your whispered something and Scaramouche leaned forward.

“What?”

You repeated the word again and the Harbinger’s brow furrowed.

“What does that name have to do with anything?”

“It’s mine, idiot.”

“You could’ve just said that.” Scaramouche scoffed, glancing away. “Thank you.”

“It’s my thanks, for doing this for me.”

“I see.” Scaramouche stood there silent for a moment. Eventually he looked around and nodded. “All seems to be in order. I hope you’re an early riser, tomorrow we’ll get to work. So make sure to sleep. I…” he began to turn towards the tent opening. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

The sound of your name whispered into the night by him was something that would keep you up for a while longer.

[sides-of-demigods]

Arm Yourself, A Storm Is Coming

Word Count: 2,572

Warning(s): Kidnapping/abduction, injuries, snakes (well, snake people), mention of blood, and a lot of crying from both me and the characters,

Author’s Note: Out of nowhere this turned so freaking sappy and I don’t know where it came from. My writing at some parts of the beginning isn’t my best, but push through it, I promise it’s worth it. The title is taken from Phoenix by League of Legends. You should pay attention to the title :)

As soon as the words were out of Dennis’s scarred lips Virgil was walking in the direction of his cabin, for once standing at his full height. He heard hurried footsteps straining to keep up with his long strides, so he assumed it was Patton. He didn’t pause to wait for him though and slammed his cabin door open once he reached it. He didn’t even stop to consider what he might need before he’d grabbed Tempest and strapped his shield to his arm. His brain was stuck on this one-track road of save Roman. He startled when a gloved hand grabbed his arm and spun him around.

He looked down at Patton, who was looking right back at him with some sort of expression that Virgil couldn’t read, almost like Patton himself didn’t know how he was feeling. Virgil could understand that, especially at that moment. He sighed and gently removed Patton’s hand from his arm. He didn’t want to worry the son of Hebe any more, but all he could think about was that the longer it was until they got to Roman, the less likely it was that he...they just had to find him. Fast.

“Look, Pat,” Virgil sighed. “I’m sorry I snapped at Dennis, okay, I really am. But I can’t let you stop me. I am going to get Roman back.”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” Patton scoffed. “Of course we have to get him back.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“You need to slow down. Kiddo you’re completely manic right now, you can’t go into a fight like this.”

“No, we can’t waste any more time Patton!”

“It’s not a waste of time to make sure we all get out of this instead of none of us!”

“‘We’?”

“You didn’t think we were going to let you go by yourself, did you?”

“No, it’s just..”

“You didn’t want us to.”

Virgil was about to contradict him but the glare on Patton’s face stopped any form of protest. The shorter boy crossed his arms and didn’t look away, practically daring Virgil to argue. The worst part was, he was right. Virgil had wanted to go alone or had at least expected to. He just...he didn’t want to risk losing anyone else. Patton had always been a little too good at reading him, as his face quickly softened.

“Virge,” He said. “Let us help you.”

“Fine.” Virgil knew when to admit defeat. “But we can’t take too long Patton, I mean it.”

Patton didn’t respond to that, instead leading the way back to the Big House. Virgil was only half a step behind. They stepped up onto the porch only to find Logan already waiting for them, already equipped with his daggers and holding Patton’s medkit and slingshot in his hands. How did he DO that? Freaking Athena kids. Patton quickly explained that it would just be the three of them, which kind of irritated Virgil but still made sense. Three was the ideal number for a quest anyway. Thomas couldn’t go with them since he had such an important role at camp, Emile wasn’t a demigod, and Remy had to stay with Emile in case the Oracle decided to pay them a visit. They were the only other people he really trusted to have his back so he supposed he would rather it be just the three of them than a bunch of people he didn’t trust.

Logan showed them to one of the Camp vans that was already waiting for them on the road. Logan was the only one with a mortal driver’s license, so he climbed into the driver’s seat with Virgil and Patton in the backseat. The entire drive there Virgil couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat, his eyes trained on the passing scenery. He just couldn’t stop thinking about ‘what if’. What if they were too late, what if they couldn’t get to Roman, what if Remus didn’t actually have him, what if Dennis had led them into a trap, what if he’d lied to them, what if, what if, what if? Virgil just couldn’t lose Roman, not now, not when this thing was still new and fresh and warm and just so so amazing. He’d realized it earlier, but he was in love with Roman. If you had told his fourteen-year-old self that one day he’d be ready to say ‘I love you’ to Roman Prince of all people, he probably would have punched you in the nose. But here he was.

The address Dennis had given them was a house in the middle of a more-rundown neighborhood, which kind of surprised Virgil. He’d almost been expecting a full-on supervillain lair, complete with an abandoned warehouse. The house didn’t even look deserted.

“Logan, you sure this is the place?” Virgil asked, watching the house through the van window. Logan had parked the van a couple of blocks away to give them the chance to case the property, but the only danger Virgil could spot was a few mortals in the house-wait, those mortals had snake legs. “Nevermind.”

“You see them too?” Patton said.

“Scythian Dracanae,” Logan cursed, running a hand through his hair.

“Dracanae aren’t too bad,” Virgil shrugged. “We can take them.”

“On their own, they are fairly easy,” Logan agreed. “But I can nearly guarantee there is a large number within the house and blocking our way to Roman.”

“Okay,” Virgil said slowly. “So, Mister Strategist, what do we do?”

“Give me a moment,” Logan murmured. He spent a few more minutes watching the house windows, though Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Whatever it was he apparently found it as he nodded in satisfaction. “Virgil, you have had experience living in a suburban area, correct?”

“Uh, yes?” Virgil answered, though it sounded more like a question. “Why?”

“Would you say it was likely for this type of house to have a cellar or basement?”

“Probably.” Virgil shrugged before it dawned on him. “Oh, you think Roman is down there.”

“I do, and I have a plan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil crouched in the bushes behind the house, trying to keep track of the Dracanae and their positions. He was also trying to prepare himself for whatever he might find in that basement but quickly shoved the thought into one of the dark and dusty corners of his mind. Fight now, worry later. He stayed low, waiting for Patton’s signal. Well, he didn’t know if he’d call it a signal exactly. Everything was quiet until there was the sound of glass breaking followed by a screech and loud hissing from the front of the house. He forced himself to hold back, to not move until there was a pause in shadows passing the kitchen and the sounds of fighting were prevalent. Logan and Patton’s diversion had started.

Still, Virgil crept forward. As much as he wanted to sprint into the basement and drag Roman out of there, his part of the plan relied on him not being detected. It felt as though it took years and all the self-control he had, but son Virgil was at what he assumed was the basement door. He opened and closed it behind him as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert anymore Dracanae that may be down there. Gods, it was pitch black down there. Virgil didn’t risk turning on a light so as to not alert anyone to his presence. He raised his shield as he slowly descended the stairs, step by step. The silence, as opposed to the battle raging upstairs, was excruciating and Virgil wanted nothing more than to just shout Roman’s name into the darkness. He bit his lip to resist the urge, but he hadn’t heard any sign of anything moving down here, which admittedly worried him a bit.

“Roman?” Virgil called out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He got no response.

“Ro please, this isn’t funny,” Virgil pleaded, desperation in his voice now.

He waited a moment more and after still not getting a response decided screw stealth. Logan and Patton had the monsters upstairs occupied and if a few made their way to the basement Virgil could dispatch them easily. He ran his hand along the closest wall until his hand came across a light switch right about where he thought the stairs ended. He counted to three in his head and flipped the switch, immediately spinning around in a defensive stance with his shield in front of him and sword raised. He didn’t see any snake women but his eyes did fall upon a familiar figure slumped in a chair in the middle of the room.

“Roman,” Virgil breathed, dashing forward.

Roman was slumped in the rickety chair, his chin against his chest. Virgil couldn’t see his face but the auburn hair and freckles up and down his arms gave him away. His ankles were tied to the front legs of the chair with rope but his arms were bound behind him with Celestial Bronze chains, as expected. Virgil moved to the back of the chair and prayed to his father to sharpen his sword before raising it in the air. He really doubted this would work, mostly because it shouldn’t and Phobos very rarely if ever answered his children’s prayers, but Virgil did not have the time or the patience to try to pick the lock. He swung Tempest down, striking the chains and, to his surprise, slicing straight through them like they were nothing. Virgil just stood there blinking for a second. He silently thanked his father before remembering the situation at hand.

His sword clattered onto the concrete floor as Virgil once again rounded the chair. He managed to untie Roman’s ankles despite his shaking hands. He took his shield off so he could cradle Roman’s face in his palms gingerly like he was afraid his touch would shatter him. Now that he got a better look at him, Virgil could tell that Roman was definitely looking worse for wear. His camp shirt was in tatters, blood staining it in one or two spots. There was dried blood on Roman’s face and bruises all over his body, and his breathing was weak but he was alive.

“Roman?” Virgil begged, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Come on baby, I need you to look at me. Don’t do this to me Roman, don’t do this to me again.”

A strangled half-sob clawed its way out of his throat as Roman still didn’t even stir. He was mostly fine, at least Virgil thought so, but he was no healer. What if he had like, internal bleeding or something Virgil couldn’t see because he didn’t know to look for it? His vision blurred through tears as all of the fear from the last few years slammed into him at once.

“Come on, beautiful.” Virgil’s voice was rough now with barely-contained cries, Roman’s vacant expression swimming before him. “You gotta wake up, I need you to come back to me. You have to be okay Roman, you have to. I still have so much I want to do and say and tell you and I-” Another choked sob escaped. “Please, just wake up!”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, as if that would block out everything wrong with this scenario, number one being Roman’s limp body in his arms. He heard a groan and his eyes flew open, watching Roman’s eyelids flutter. Once Roman realized someone was touching him his eyes wrenched themselves open wide and he began pushing away from Virgil in a blind panic. Virgil barely managed to hold on to his boyfriend, refusing to let him go again.

“Roman, baby it’s me, it’s me,” Virgil spoke reassurances over and over until he saw recognition behind Roman’s eyes followed behind a blossoming hope that made Virgil want to start crying all over again.

“W-wait,” Roman rasped, his voice rough and dry. “Virgil? You’re, you’re here?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” Virgil nodded slowly, a watery smile finally finding its way onto his lips. “I’m here.”

Like the center of gravity had shifted, both boys fell into each other, hands grasping whatever they could find. Roman clung to Virgil like a drowning man would a breath of fresh air and Virgil wasn’t planning on loosening his grip anytime soon. Virgil was kneeling on concrete and Roman was still sitting in that chair, but damn it it was still the greatest hug Virgil had ever had. Virgil felt Roman tuck his face into the crook of Virgil’s neck and tears fall onto his skin and that was all it took for him to fall apart. He buried his face into Roman’s shoulder and just cried, ugly, rough, sobs that made his whole body shake and his hands cling tighter to the remains of Roman’s shirt. Gods, he had been so fucking scared and angry, so sure he was going to lose him. Every single emotion he’d pushed aside since that Iris Message dissipated seemed to hit him all at once and he just couldn’t handle it. Thankfully Roman didn’t push him away, instead reciprocating the tightness of the hug.

“I was so scared, Virgil,” Roman whispered into his neck. Virgil forced his sobbing to subside at least a bit so that he could hear what Roman was saying. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“Me too.” Virgil pulled back just enough to remain in Roman’s arms but could still see his face. He lightly brushed away a tear on Roman’s cheek, trying to summon the same smile from earlier. “But I’m here now.”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Roman practically blurted out. Virgil kept his mouth shut as Roman chewed on his bottom lip, not sure how to proceed. “This whole thing, it, it made me realize that, our lives are so unpredictable and dangerous all the time. I could lose you at any moment or the other way around and I…” Roman took a breath slowly. “I don’t want that to happen before I tell you that...I love you.”

Virgil inhaled sharply and Roman’s eyes fell to his knees, not looking at Virgil as he processed what Roman had just said. He loved him. Roman loved him. He couldn’t help the incredulous that bubbled out of him and made Roman look back up in confusion. Virgil cupped his face again and pulled his lips down to meet his in a passionate, almost desperate kiss but oh so sweet and loving that they both had to pull back because they were grinning too much.

“I love you too, Ro,” Virgil laughed again. Gods, this day was just a rollercoaster of emotions. “I love you so damn much that half the time I don’t know what to do with it. If I can help it, I'm going to say it to you every single day until you get sick of it or I can’t anymore.”

“I will never grow sick of it.” Roman’s hands came up to wrap around Virgil’s, his smile the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. “And I get the feeling that neither will you.”

“I love you, Roman Prince.”

“I love you, Virgil Camden.”

“You’re right, I’ll never get tired of that. Now let’s get you out of the creepy hostage basement, shall we?”

“Please.”

[theadamantium]

Harri’s Travel Blog - India 2018

Over the past decade, I’ve been quite fortunate to travel a decent chunk of this globe. But like anything so special, no matter how satisfying an experience, I am always hungry for more. I developed a fixation for culture. For every item I’ve crossed off the bucket list, I seem to add six others. But I will admit, India wasn’t on that list before.

India was my Mom’s dream. It was the top of her list and she wanted to experience it before she was “too old.” Meet my Mom for five minutes and you’ll see it’ll be a long time before she’s too old for anything. I knew she wanted to have this experience with me, her spoiled only child, before he was tied down with too many commitments. So I said, “let’s do it!” My Mom and I travel very well together. We have similar get-up-and-go styles and a do-it-all-while-you’re-here mentality. My Mom won’t shy away from long drives, elephant rides, local participation, live music, and exotic foods. As our guide would put it, “The heart of the mother becomes the soul of the child.” As I started doing research prior to our trip I began to see why India was such a priority for my Mom.

The Itinerary

As a quick outline of our plan, we set out to tackle The Golden Triangle – New Delhi, Agra & Jaipur – with a stop in Ranthambore National Park in the middle and a few extra days heading west to Jodhpur and Udaipur. Fun India fact, cities ending in ‘Pur’ were ruled by Hindu kings, while cities ending in ‘Bahd’ were ruled by Muslim kings.

On out first day in India we met with our guide, Raj, and our driver, Mr. Singh. We’d all be paired together for the next two weeks. Lucky for us, we made an excellent team. Mr. Singh was a quiet man and a traditional Sikh. He is a professional. He was never late and always available for us when we needed. He was shy so didn’t say much, but as he came to realize the easy going people my Mom and I are, he loosened up and became very honest with us.

Raj on the other hand, had the gift of the gab. He loved to share his wisdom and stories from his life and experiences. He enjoys his life’s work and looks at being a tour guide as his responsibility to show off his country and provide his guests with the best experience possible. We told Raj from the start we were excited for the sites, but we also wanted a real India experience and this thrilled him. He treated us as travelers and not as tourists and made special added arrangements to give us the India trip we wanted. More on this later.

Culture

Sightseeing is always special and an important part of travel. However, as I’ve become a more experienced traveler my trips have become less defined by these sights as it has about meeting the people and experiencing the life and culture. Not only is this the best way to expand your worldly knowledge, but I truly believe it is one of the best ways to get to know yourself and expel your own ignorance. Most of what I learned on this trip didn’t come from palaces or safaris but rather walking through local bazaars, attending religious rituals or just witnessing the local life that surrounded us as we passed through town to town.

Making our way through India was very humbling. I don’t need to explain how little many of the people own and the cleanliness of their conditions. But this is the life they know and they seem just as happy with it as I am with my own. Who are we to say this is a worse quality of life? The people of these small villages have a strong work ethic, sense of community, family pride and undying faith. Are these not life’s core values? One may not have this same outlook in the large cities as your experiences can certainly be clouded by the tip chasers and pushy salesmen. Often when we’d stop in one of these small towns or villages, the locals would crowd around us out of curiosity. We’d be the talk of the town and the young people would request a photo with us.  

Of course, a trip to India would not be complete without its culture shocks. Sharing the roads with cows, donkeys, camels and elephants, straight men holding hands, curry for breakfast, recreational mathematics (including upwards of 15 channels on television dedicated to it), and the importance of cricket (I still don’t understand how this overcomplicated, slower and longer version of baseball works) are some of the traditions that would take me some time to adapt to. One of the most shocking sights to a Westerner or European is the number of swastikas painted or carved into important religious structures. This one requires explaining as this symbol does not mean the same thing as we are accustomed to. The swastika is a religious mark the Nazis adopted from Indian culture, alternating the direction in which it points.

Taj Mahal

Unlike the rest of the trip, I had an expectation for the Taj Mahal. It’s impossible not to. It was at the centre of our itinerary requirements and has been declared one of the manmade wonders of the world. So, in fact, expectations were pretty high. But I’m happy to report it did not disappoint.

Mahal which means palace, was built by the king, Shah Jahar, to monument his love for his wife, Mumzel Mahal. This work of perfect symmetry took 26 years to build and was originally supposed to have an identical twin in black marble. Meanwhile, I complain about spending $100 on an overpriced meal for two in Toronto. But if I had the means of a king, maybe I’d build a monument for Margot Robbie in hopes that she’d be my queen. But I digress.

Much like Margot, it’s impossible to take a bad photo of the Taj. We arrived at sunrise as the golden rays reflected off the dome and towers - A photographer’s fantasy. Additionally, Raj had called upon a friend, a young boy named Raja who knew all the best spots to get photos around the premises. I could have stayed there all day snapping Nat Geo worthy (please see contact page to all Nat Geo editors reading this) and potential profile pics with this mega babe, but I guess an extra hour would have to do. Within hours the photo I posted with the Taj became one of my most liked photos on my personal Instagram.

Inside the Taj is basically a large marble room with the tomb of Mumzel Mahal. Although beautiful, it was maybe the only underwhelming part of the Taj. What did I expect? An exotic bazaar, curry buffet, and a Bollywood production of Rocky Horror starring India’s best and most beautiful maybe?

The Taj is located in the city of Agra. A fascinating but poor place with rundown buildings, street vendors and roaming cows. How can a city which brings in so much tourism be so poor you ask? Most of the money earned by the Taj goes back into restoration of the masterpiece. As well as the landmarks, I enjoy experiencing and photographing local culture. I found Agra fascinating but after consulting with Raj, it wasn’t a safe place for me to explore on my own. So instead I found myself taking video clips with my iPhone from the vehicle window.

Driving

If you think driving downtown is stressful. Try driving anywherein India. Stop signs, traffic lights and speed limits only exist in major cities like New Delhi. “Rules are suggestions in India,” Raj explained to us and then joked, “This is a sign that we live in a democracy.” Seatbelts are optional. Signaling is optional. Braking is optional. Driving on the correct side of the road... optional. However, using your horn continuously is mandatory.

It’s not uncommon in India to see vehicles getting bumped, families of five with infants riding a single motorbike without helmets, a bus so crowded some passengers are riding on the roof, and cows casually strolling across the highway. On our second day, we saw a van making a right-hand turn, crash into two women on a motorbike, knocking them over. Something I have never seen in my life before. Luckily no one was hurt. The van did stop to check if they were alive. The two women stood up, dusted themselves off and were on their way again. No exchange of insurance necessary.

Horns aren’t so much used as a way to let someone know how pissed off you are but rather as a tool to let the person in front of you know they’re approaching or passing quickly. For you see it is quite possible the road is being held up by a camel tow, tractor with an overweight load of chaff, or a herd of goats.

Tipping

Ugh.

Call me a cheap bastard. But I dislike the custom of tipping. I’m used to tipping service people - waiters, drivers, barbers, etc. But in India you tip everyonefor everything, and they expect it. On our daily adventures and discoveries, we found the people of India to be very friendly and considerate. But when it comes to service it can become difficult to distinguish genuine kindness from wallet plunging. Some days I felt like a sultan in a strip club, leaving a trail of dollar bills behind me.

After an exchange of pleasantries with someone, I’d often find them awkwardly lingering until I realized they were waiting for a payout. As we’d come out of our hotel room, a cleaner would be standing in front of you already or appear out of nowhere like something out of a horror movie and repeatedly ask if everything is satisfactory with the room. To the point where I felt like I was paying to get rid of them.

Activities that we’d consider common courtesy (like holding the door open for someone) we’d be expected to tip for. I used the gym at one of the hotels and asked the receptionist if someone could turn on the music. A man came ten minutes later while I was on the treadmill and did so. He then stood behind the treadmill and asked more than once if the music was to my liking. Unfortunately for him, this effort would not be a profitable one. For one, I very much don’t like being interrupted in the middle of a workout. And secondly, who carries cash in their sweaty workout gear?

See, my issue isn’t to do with the money (mostly). The tented camp we stayed at in Ranthambore adjusted this tradition in the right way, in my opinion. Instead of tipping the service people individually, you left something in a tip box upon checkout which was equally distributed upon the service people. This removed the sense of false friendliness.

Maybe I should just move to Australia or Japan.

Safari

Going on safari in Kenya and Tanzania was one of the best experiences of my Mom and I’s lives. So, we decided we wanted to slightly detour to include a few game drives in Ranthambore in an attempt to spot some wild tigers. The state of Rajasthan is one of few territories remaining that is home to the tiger. We were well warned by booking agents, guides, and naturalists that due to the dwindling number of wild tigers (only 64 remaining in Ranthambore) there is no guarantee you will see one. Tigers are also solitary animals that don’t travel in packs, making them even more difficult to track and spot. But I won’t lie, our hopes were quite high to see one. Twenty minutes into our first game drive, “Hey, there’s three tigers!” A mama and two young.

Our second and third game drive weren’t quite as lucky. Ranthambore National Park is split into ten zones, but because we booked late we only had access to zones 6-10. Our afternoon drive was in zone 10 and was pretty much baron and completely dried up. I kept picturing a collection of wildlife having a disco in a lush jungle paradise in zone 1. Our naturalist received a call saying one of the male tigers was hanging out back at the entrance to the zone, with our permission the 4x4 driver hit the gas and drove like an Indian version of Schumacher, who drifted corners and cliffs like human Mario Kart. We rattled around the vehicle, jumping close to a foot off our seat at times. Imagine riding the ricketiest coaster at Canada’s Wonderland (definitely The Wild Beast) without a seatbelt... for 30 minutes! Of course, by the time we reached the entrance, buddy had peaced. But it was one helluva ride to remember and we had some enjoyable back pain as a souvenir. Poor Mom!

Highlights

Other than Adam’s quam with tipping, it sounds like our trip was all sunshine and rainbows (well it was a lotof sunshine, complete with 41-degree heat). But no trip is complete without a few bumps. A group of young over-privileged women who felt entitled to party in the hotel hallway at the expense of everyone else on the same floor cost us a night’s sleep in Jaipur. I also had a 24-hour battle with food poisoning, complete with six accounts of projectile vomiting. But no amount of curry spewing from my nose (spicy!) was going to hinder my experience!

As mentioned above, Raj went that extra mile to create great memories for us to take home. Two of these trip extras became highlights of our travels. On our second day in Delhi he took us to the biggest Sikh temple in the city at the time of ceremony. Not only was the white & gold temple breathtaking but it allowed us to spend some time with a group of people we knew very little about. To honor tradition, we entered without shoes and our heads covered with a bandana. We spent a few moments meditating in the temple over song before Raj took us to the “kitchen.” The Sikh people of this particular temple prepare food and feed 60,000 locals every day voluntarily. I used the word kitchen in quotes, because someone from Canadian Health and Safety would have an aneurism after one look at this room. Everything was prepared in giant vats and no one wore gloves or even socks. Mom and I helped make Chapatti, and weren’t even asked to wash out hands. But alas, the Indian iron stomach can withstand just about anything. We were so grateful for this experience as it broke so many barriers of ignorance and replaced them with a foundation of respect and appreciation. Fun India fact, all Sikhs change their name to Singh. So what happens at a Sikh gathering when there is a phone call asking for Mr. Singh?

After being so intrigued by many of the villages we drove through on our commutes, I said to Raj that I would like to stop in a local village. He was pleased I asked as he had a friend who ran a village between our drive from Jodhpur to Udaipur. Upon arrival, we were greeted with great pleasure by Raj’s friend and shown around. We got to meet the elders of the village, who offered us tea (and opium). But the most rewarding part, maybe of the entire trip, was visiting the local school. We went into two tiny classrooms to meet the children, about age 6-10. They were so ecstatic to see us. Their little faces glowing with excitement as they bounced around on their chair or floor and each one of them wanted to shake our hands. More than any heart could handle without melting on the spot. Even as we had to leave, the boys were poking their heads out the window and door to wave at us.

I can’t thank Raj & Mr. Singh enough for their enthusiasm, patience and hospitality. To say I enjoyed my time in India would be a vast understatement. Most important to me was that Mom got the experience she was hoping for. I was happy to come along for the ride (and family time). That mission was a success and I think Mom came back more satisfied than she even expected. I hadn’t set expectation for myself and was therefore overwhelmingly surprised with the experience and the richness of the culture. So much so that some of the (many) other parts of India that we weren’t able to reach on this trip have now made “the list.”

Note: More photos from my professional camera to be shared on the blog as I get around to editing them. All photos above are from my iPhone 8 Plus.

[rarestereocats]

rundown of tonight’s game!

we started our pre-game off great when discussion of whether or not Optimus Prime is a fascist came to light and then upon discussing transformer balls in the movies,  i left a wonderful “AUTO BALLS ROLL OUT” in the chat.  i also learn that Tenin doesn’t float like i’ve thought this entire time so my entire world is shattered.

as the fey vampire babushka thing dies,  she mutters something sweet under breath like the bitch she is and Tenin feels weak in the knees.  literally.  Tenin got his shit fucked up with a curse everyone and i bet he’s sworn off women now.  we head back to camp and sleep like little babes after we make sure nothing else can attack us.

upon waking up,  i’m amazed as i look over and Industria has sprouted white angel wings that glitter gold in sunlight.  like cue the heavenly choir on that shit cuz it’s pretty as fuck!  i ask her about it and then she lets me touch the wings and they are  S O F T.  so we pack up and move towards the sound of running water as we wanna get our fishing game on.

we find a cave and look,  after everything we’ve been through with that fucking spelunking adventure a few sessions back,  we don’t want what that dark hole is offering.  no more glory holes in the middle of nowhere,  please.  We Are Tired.  but after reading some thieves’ cant and realizing the water is unsafe,  we all decided this cave is our new home and began our trek through.

BUT GODDAMN,  the cave is a fucking illusion (obligatory song for this campaign apparently??) and at this point,  my illusionary magic PTSD should be cured by exposure therapy.  behind it is a sign that reads “Haven for lost children.  Harbor”.  we head inside and it’s a village in the trees literally full of children.  we meet their leader,  Luska,  and she talks of how children keep going missing.  since we need to meet the Guardian and Luska is meeting them in 3 days,  we decided to help these kids out.

these kids are ridiculous though cuz get this.  they don’t fucking age.  they went missing elsewhere and somehow ended up here with no recollection of what happened and some of them haven’t aged in centuries.  these children are literally just fucking KFC for fey and are getting picked off by the day,  but they’re pretty casual about it.  as Luska gathers some resources for us to look into this,  we head to the cafe and have a lovely time.  Samuel and Xaren share cookies,  and both me as a player and Kina as an individual,  ship it.

as we search the homes of the missing,  Xaren finds many journals that derail into paranoid rambling.  i find some claw marks by a bed and we relay that information to the other group as they search some other homes.  Elathera,  Industria,  and Rikius begin concocting a plan to lure the creature out as they realize it’s a bogeyman.  these things feed on fear,  so best option?  scare somebody and use them as bait.

now here’s the things,  kids.  we are literally in a village chock full of kids.  you know what scares easily?  children.  but what do they decide on?  lets cast fear on good ol’ Kina and leave her as bogeyman bait cuz hey,  at least i can hold my own right??   pile that PTSD on,  folks.  for her,  this entire campaign is turning into PTSD&D: Mental Trauma in a Basket.  the worst part?  they decided not to tell me this plan.

they go on a shopping trip for the supplies they need to destroy my mental state and Industria offends Rikius by implying he was an evil wizard at some point.  so she continues her beautiful crusade of offending men (#feminism),  they get their gear,  and roll out.  we all meet up at the inn.  we manage to scare the shit out of the child innkeeper and Industria makes him cry,  so now we quickly work to build this child back up and assure him nothing is absolutely gonna go wrong.

we head off for our rooms and everyone else gathers elsewhere to discuss this plan.  Xaren and Samuel are not having this shit and god bless their fucking souls cuz as Industria mentions something of dying as a risk,  Samuel storms off to find me and tell him, what’s going on.  i am pissed.  i am upset.  my own friends were planning this behind my back and didn’t wanna warn me,  so my fur bristles and i just wanna go ham;  but then Industria closes the distance to explain.

as she explains,  in understand.  best option,  less opportunities for causalities and loss of innocent lives.  i’m not happy,  but i reluctantly agree to be the bait.  we say good-night,  i thank Samuel and Xaren for alerting to me,  and Industria comes into my room to talk.  we have a tender heart-to-heart,  a sisterly moment,  and hug it out.  i tell Industria that i know they all have my back,  so it’ll be fine.  we then get our gossip on,  talking but that Juice.  Elathera and Tenin being an item?  Industria says she caught them in bed and my theory’s proven true.  she heads on out,  reluctantly.

she gets back top the room and her and Elathera have a big talk about what happened that morning.  she tells Elathera to put a sock on the door when Tenin comes in to “practice his sword” and Elathera is mortified.  red in the face,  she says she has something to show Industria,  but Industria doesn’t wanna see it thinking she’s about to get an eyeful of the Nasty.  she makes her watch as she swaps places with Tenin,  but instead of realizing what’s happening,  Industria assumes Elathera ran off out of embarrassment. 

Xaren is pacing in his room,  fuming,  still upset about all of this.  Samuel and him have another romance movie moment as they have these tender,  heart-to-heart chats.  as they bond,  Samuel places his hand on Xaren’s,  who blushes and both get awkward as they pull away and say good-night quickly.  bounce back to me and Rikius and i tell him i had a horrifying revelation.  he looks up from his book.  “that explains the harness.”.  he laughs,  but says the Elathera/Tenin thing is a joke.  i tell him i know better than that cuz i’ve been traveling with them all long enough to know the truth.

Rikius asks me if the Braid Bandit will strike again so i nervously said that’d be fucked up considering current circumstance.  he shakes his head and goes back to meditating.  come morning,  everybody is downstairs when i get up with the sicks ass Blackbeard-esque braids i put in my mane.  i head on down and try to accuse the Braid Bandit of striking again,  but i think everyone’s tired of that shit.  as the day goes by,  i take the braids out and brush the mane out.

come sundown,  it’s go time.  we pick an abandoned house and they all send me up alone as they turn invisible and get into position.  i head in as the wind picks up and the darkness settles and let me tell you,  i am already unnerved.  i do not like this.  as i sit down on the bed,  Rikius moves in and casts fear and now i’m panicking.  as the bogeyman closes in,  i go full fluff and cower into the corner,  not sure what to do.

our brawl with the bogeyman is textbook “believe it or not,  this isn’t the worst day we’ve had” as our plan just falls to pieces.  the bait works!  i am perfect bait!  but we sprung the trap too soon,  so the bogeyman kicks everybody’s shit in as Rikius stays inside to keep an eye on me and drop the fear spell.  as i’m in the corner,  eternally sobbing,  i hear one of my friends scream out in agony and then nothing.  it was Industria after seeing a sight that horrified her completely thanks to the bogeyman.  probably images of Ryan Cabrera’s hair.  have you seen that shit?  i’d die too.  she goes down,  face down in the dirt as this fucker continues punishing us.

as i finally come to my senses too quickly and race outside hoping that my friends are alive.  as i leave,  Rikius fires off at the bogeyman with a scorching ray and nearly kills it.  without a second of hesitation,  Xaren punches the shit out of this thing until it’s dead.  Elathera panics at the sight of Industria and feeds her a potion to bring our girl back to us.  as she does that,  Tenin angrily roars and stabs the corpse.

we regroup and get ready to go see Luska to let her know what’s up.  Xaren asks me if I’m alright and when i say no,  he offers a hug that i take.  Samuel joins our hug and then picks us both up and as my friends fill Luska in,  i pass out and Samuel takes me back to the inn to tuck me in.  after,  everybody else goes to get dinner and burns the body.

Industria spends the night practicing and playing her new lyre she took from the corpse.  Xaren and Samuel have another date at the cafe where Xaren is haunted by the spirit of my voice telling him to kiss him.  i’m plagued by nightmares and go to longingly stare out the window and Rikius asks if i need to talk.  i tell him i’m bad at that sort of thing and he says he is too,  so we quietly sit in each other’s company as i watch the forest,  fluffed up,  and purring.  i fall asleep,  loafed into the window.

as i wake up,  still loafed into the window and purring,  Rikius is leaning against the wall and waiting for me.  he’s trying to be subtle,  but hey,  boy.  ;)

we meet everyone downstairs and and we’re all a little tired and disheveled.  my mane is a mess and as soon as Industria mentions we’re meeting the Guardian today,  i panic and began brushing my mane out fiercely.  Rikius and Samuel help me brush my giant mane and I Am Ready.  Rikius fixes his hair and checks his stubble to make sure it’s still acceptable.  he turns to me for second opinions and i give him a thumbs up,  so like,  we’re getting there,  folks.  he’s mine.

we finally meet the Guardian.  a hamadryad named Andruw Mar.  we return their book and they seem delighted to see it again.  we speak and learn that the Svartalfar are trying to take down the Guardian and his people to get back to the Feywild and do Naughty Things,  so we agree to help them out so long as they consider negotiations to ally themselves with our nation.  the Guardian agrees and hands us a fancy card to give to New Thaddeus as a way of showing their good fiath so long as we keep our word.

and that’s where we let off.