#Miss Veda

[maddcelestial]

Sometimes on cold days nothing beats a nice hot Philly cheesesteak from the deli a block away. It’s nice to get out of the apartment too and walk around the neighborhood.

Of course there’s always the issue with the Beej Tax….

But it wouldn’t be a good outing without a bit of his antics.

(Thank you @outer-andromeda for the help with the sketches.)

[bitterscampi]

I am very behind on wrestling but I watched the wr grand prix last night and it was GREAT

[skyflyinginaction]

Clamp Art Style Analysis: Part 1: Creation Process and Materials

Introduction

Clamp is a manga artist team of four women. They are a prominent distinguished manga artist team known in the West and in China. The thing they are most recognized for is their highly detailed art style many people may have known and many may not. They did several manga you might have known such as Card Captor Sakura, Chobits, and even Tsubasa.

Clamp is one of the artists whose art style I highly admire and want to imitate in my art. I created this post so I can understand and take apart their art style and better understand it. It is going to be difficult since there are four people with different specialties and years of professional experience in their belt. They are constantly changing and adapting to every genre. 

I am going to analyze Clamps’ art style in this post and this may take a while to crack due to how extensive the Clamp style is. I am going to pile up everything and explain this in this post which is going to take time to explain in this post. I am going to take apart interviews from different sources while explaining their art style in this post.  

I am going to examine their art style and the materials they use. I am going to split into sections talking about the art style and what they use for materials for the manga.

To understand the art style and how it is defined I need to understand Clamp themselves since they created an entirely individual style that is going to talk about other things, not about the art style there is going to be so much I might miss while explaining in this post. I could be wrong while explaining this is an analysis I am going to take my crack at understanding the art style. 

Influences

Though the members of Clamp are largely self-taught they are inspired by many figures that influence their art. The list consists of Reiji Matsumoto, Osamu Tezuka, Go Nagai, Hirohiko Araki, and Moto Hagio. The other works that influenced Clamp are animated cartoons and Galaxy Express 999. Reiji Matsumoto and Osamu Tezuka are major influences in their works Clamp used Osamu Tetsuka’s star system in their works which is seen often in the crossing over of characters from their series into their other works. You can see this prevalently in Tsubasa, X, and Kobato where you would find characters from the different series crossover.

Nekoi's favorite cartoonist was Moto Hagio in high school and Mokona mimics pictures by Reiji Matsumoto when she was younger. 

While working on manga Nekoi started copying Shinji Wada and Rumiko Takahashi, in which She copied her art in drawing legs. She drew them thick and big. She liked the legs Rumiko Takahashi drew since they seemed long until short feet. She took them to make them more delicate and feminine. Clamp used other artists to help them while drawing. 

Go Negai influenced the creation of X, taking inspiration from his work of Devil Man featuring two main male characters, and the murder of the lead's sweetheart triggers the apocalypse. Devil Man is used in creating x The extreme levels of violence depicted in X came from Go Negai's works. Clamp knows about Devil Man. They did a doujinshi of Devil Man in their works as doujinshi artists a while back and even had a doujinshi about the lead character's relationship in their works. 

X was inspired by Go Nagai the heavy violence in x inspired from Go Nageis works and the assembled cast of x is inspired by Kyokutei Bakin's Nansō Satomi Hakkenden, The fight sequences of x were inspired by the manga Dragon Ball specifically Akira Toriyama's use of white backgrounds.

Mokona influences are H.R Giger and gérard di-maccio are used  for the RG veda backgrounds.

Mokona likes Alphonse Mucha who is a considerable influence in drawing XXXHolic art.

Hirohiko Araki is another influence of Clamp with JoJo's Bizarre Adventure fan manga back when they drew doujinshi and starred in Clamp in wonderland animation with Jojo animated.

They drew a doujinshi on Jojo a while back starring Josuke and Kakyon and even they drew Jolynn once.

There is a lot of Kakyoin and Josuke fanart with Yaoi art drawn by these two characters.

Jojo was used in drawing wish with Kohaku and Shuichiro strongly resembling Jotaro Kujo and Noriaki Kakyoin and Kohaku's hairstyle strongly identical to Kakyoin and Shuiichiro resembling Josuke.

Members

Nanase Ohkawa     

The main leader of the group, the main writer of the scenario, is in charge of the original story, script, and design. The other three artists are Mokona, Nekoi, and Satsuki, who are in charge of the art.

Mokona 

Mokona is the artist and designer in charge of drawing. Mokona is in charge of sketching out the construction of the characters by hand. Mokona draws the storyboards and sketches out the characters. Mokona is responsible for drawing female characters.

Tsubaki Nekoi    

Nekoi is in charge of character design, background scenery, finishing touches, and charge of the foundation of the art in their works. Her booth has been painted for design and screens for finishing touches.Nekoi likes to doodle and throw pages. Nekoi is in charge of drawing male characters.

Satsuki Igarashi

Satsuki Igarashi is in charge of design and drawing and is in charge of the finishing touches. She is in charge of designing the cover of the book itself.

Bio 

Three members of Clamp were classmates in high school who took art-focused classes in school; none of them studied at school for manga. Nekoi tried using colored pencils and opaque watercolor in school when she was young. Satsuki and Nekoi were in middle school when they first started drawing manga. Mokona was in an art club in middle school. In high school, she started drawing manga with proper frames and dialogues. Mokona, Nekoi, and Igarashi studied art in high school Nekoi, Mokona, and Igarashi met in high school as a kid She found a friend who loved manga, Satsuki went to an art-type highschool and Mokona high school and college had art-focused classes, Igarashi was at an art department in highschool then to computer graphics vocational school. Clamp started as doujinshi artists who first published doujinshi fanzines Back then they had more people it went down to four in the year of their commercial debut.

The group never worked as assistants with most of the members being self-taught with Tsubaki and Nekoi being more self-taught.  

They never used assistants to help them with their work since they wouldn’t be able to understand the years of jargon they created among themselves They created work for years without any help from assistants since assistants would slow them down and wouldn’t understand when we would tell them to do the same thing as before disrupting the workflow they created for work.

For inspiration, Ohkawa gets her ideas from dreams or inspiration based on events she hears or sees on the news a lot of times its deadlines. Ohkawa doesn’t always take notes and she usually loses ideas.

Clamp’s daily work hours while working on manga is in the morning, get in the studio at about 10 or 11 in the morning and in the afternoon they eat dinner at 6 in the evening then stop working at midnight. 

The members share a single workspace and are separated into three booths while they work.

There are four separate studios and the member's workspace accommodates all four of them. Clamp work requires complete perfection with members having their own space where they have to work to create one of their works 

The art of Clamp is lush layered and amazingly detailed. It has a high-quality art style with extensive details. Due to this, it's almost difficult to adapt to animation.

Each of Clamp’s titles has a different art style depending on the genre or magazine they are running in; their art styles change to suit the work and magazine the manga will appear in. The art style of the work is based on Ohkawa’s decision in charge of the art direction of the work. The art styles and pictures have changed but not their methods.

There is a lot to talk about the Clamp art style which may not be enough to explain one segment

Creation process 

Clamp's work process is similar to an animation production; they work like a small animation studio. if you look closely at the work process for creating works it's more like an animation with the director, playwright, character designer, painter, background artist, creator, and publicist treating the manga or story like a script for a movie or anime, the creative process for creating manga is similar to that of animation and movies.

Ohkawa is the storyteller and writes the scripts other three draw drafts and original design, Mokona is the chief character designer, and Tsubaki and Nekoi work for the background Sometimes they they take turns doing different jobs

Ohkawa writes then it goes to Mokona who draws out the outline of the storyboard and sketches the characters

They would normally go to Nekoi for the finishing touches Igarashi and Nekoi work on the final touches the team may shuffle roles. Clamp members do get outside work with computer graphics. For drawing sometimes the members do character backgrounds or may draw everything depending on the story. They have a work where one person designs the character and another draws the actual story. They make storyboards and start drawing. Sometimes they decide who is going to make storyboards and then start drawing.  The art is drawn by Satsuki, Mokona, and Nekoi, Nekoi draws the rough draft and thinks about how the story is going forward to next month's script. The designs are handled by Satsuki and Mokona. Satsuki worked on the design for the cover page. In the beginning, they believed that everything in the comic from front to back was important to the story. They take turns completing the rough sketch depending on the story. They divide the story into frames; they mostly draw it on art board paper after they create characters and scripts. Ohkawa explains what in each frame props and the characters in they have how they turn around and include emotions in the panel. Ohkawa and Igarashi never drew manga with split frames. They Look like frames from a movie 

When Ohkawa comes up with stories Ohkawa drafts the outline of the story and the story setting The ending for each story is determined from the last scene back to the first scene and the end last and deciding the thing and heading into this way makes way for change drags the reader along for the story Ohkawa drafts the outline the other three members formulate characters designs by creating character profile sheets to avoid confusion. Ohkawas style of writing is considered a color woodblock print in the way it conveys and portrays things the manga is close to picture books and elimination of everything unneeded. Ohkawa thinks about the setting of where the story takes place and Ohkawa constructs a visual image at least in their head then splits up panels in their manga. for the writing process, they come up with the story Ohkawa gets together to discuss the story with the members about the purpose of the story and the main characters when writing and drawing After the members get well used to the story they write it down when creating a story for a weekly magazine they first decide on a rough story from beginning to end Ohkawa works backward from the ending for the story to have an ending like this the members don’t always know how the story develops. Ohkawa's style of writing for stories is not telling anyone the progression of the storyline before it happens reason for that is that when the members of Clamp learn of Hokuto's death one of the members couldn’t draw Hokuto's smile the same way this is how badly shaken they were since that the way Ohkawa created her stories changed for most of the works it was until Chobits she could tell them again. Ohkawa kept using memos in the beginning when she wrote the stories where she kept track of the flow of the story.

Before they start drawing they decide the flow of the story up until the end as well as the materials used for color and monochromatic drawing and the direction of the illustration. The members consider the art style during the planning stage and the materials for the manga, for materials Clamp uses color samplers In the order of how they draw. They draw them the same size as manuscripts, they draw rough sketches, and the size of the manuscript is b4 size and genkou size. They seldom use computers to create manga but only to color pictures, sometimes Clamp uses the scanning method when they draw or draw the rough draft using tablets. They don’t use references for their designs except at one time for Ohkawa she drew inspiration from a perfume and drink package she gathered together she drew more influence from the business art and art from Alan Chai's design. 

The amount of lines and the thickness of the lines in the manga depends on the work. When you look at the manga, there are a lot of lines in the characters, Clamps can make the lines, and the thickness of the lines depends on the nature of their work from the thicker lines shows how serious and heavy the story thicker lines match the nature of their work that fits with a heavy theme like works like Tokyo Babylon, which have a heavy atmosphere. Mokona draws with thicker lines and uses pens with strong pressure when drawing. Clamps drawing methods changed with Tsubasa and xxxholic.

In the process of launching a serialization first is to decide on the major storyline work out the details of the characters later and consider the number of chapters needed to tell a story, second Ohkawa has a meeting with Mokona and Nekoi to decide on the design of the main characters Ohkawa asks for designs once they are finished they go over one more time.  They go about creating manga and have two processes,  one creating a manga based on the request from a publisher The second Clamp decides on the story first and then thinks about the magazine to write it for. Clamp comes up with an outline for the story First after they create the outline they discuss who's going to draw pictures or if they all draw together. They turn the project into a movie telling how a story goes and who the main characters are among themselves. They talk about the rough story and how they should do it when they bring a story to the publisher, attach the rough story and characters, attach characters' settings to them and draw the appearance in the manga to the publisher. Then after they show the work to the editor if the editor thinks it's okay they start the story. After receiving approval from an editor, Ohkawa assigns roles to each group member and then chooses the visual styles depending on the factors such as the complexity of the story and chosen art style the artwork depends on the genre and magazine of the story. Ohkawa provides a rough draft for each chapter with things such as dialogue panel size props and movement and characters' emotions. Storyboarding takes 12 hours while the script takes 8 hours to write. To Mokona from rough draft to inking 10 pages per day, the average Mokona puts into how many pages of black and white manuscript draws in a day the number of pages they draw in a month to finish one installment For example if they're in two monthly publications like Tsubasa and xxxholic one is about 19 or 20 pages other takes one day to finish 6 pages for the foundations for the fishing touches and inking takes a couple of days every 2 weeks when it comes to two weekly series its 120 and 130 pages a week. xxxholic takes two days and x took four days 

Ohkawa will specify the proper production for the story and character. After the story, they will choose a person to perform the character design. Clamp switches up who works on character design and the drawing. Igarashi and Ohkawa do it together. One of them directs the work for design and the person in charge of the drawing for that work will draw a rough sketch which is discussed. Mokona is one of the concept artists When the scenario is specified in detail, Mokona listens to the basic story and consults the original concept with Ohkawa Mokona will show what she designed on the spot of the drafting and period.  Mokona and Clamp often decide on the design first, then Mokona draws the illustration from format, paper, and photoshopping specifications to color specification. Mokona does pencil drawing first then ink and color it the pencil stage first so Mokona can fix errors in the pencil stage. Ohkawa as the main scriptwriter Ohkawa determines the story and setting and tells the members about it and the rest give their thoughts on it Ohkawa maps out the location, ideas, and character design Ohkawa gives the character's figures hairstyles, and clothes she envisions to the designers or sometimes Ohkawa draws them herself only sketches the rest get the art close to Ohkawa original version. Ohakwa doesn’t talk about the characters until it's time to create their visual design, Ohkawa decides the design of the character and the group visualizes it She explains their appearance she sometimes brings sketches instead of explaining Ohkawa decides the characters they have long or short hair their style of clothes and complexity. Clamp discusses together and thinks about how to make characters, Ohkawa makes requests and discusses them with the other three Ohkawa gives concrete and specific thoughts on what she wants the main characters to be. Ohkawa is the one who decides on the details of the characters and Clamp crafts their characters. They explain the story in the works that include the drawing of the clothes of what the character wears. Ohkawa takes all the info she gathered and has them design the characters based on the descriptions she gave like body build, hair length, and small details, next decide who is going to design the characters either Nekoi or Mokona design them characters and pick one of them then make a character setting chart and decide on the character's height. After the story they choose a person to perform character design. When that is happening, they use specific proper proportions for the story and character. They come up with a story through a character design phase Clamp and choose different styles and proportions for the characters. When it comes to designing characters they determine the head and body ratios since the person drawing can change the proportions in their sketches without knowing.  They reference the proportions of the characters in case the person drawing it gets it wrong. Igarashi and Ohkawa consult each other and ask for revisions so that the proportions don’t shift, so it can come in tandem when working for 4 people. Mokona had difficulties drawing Yuko's proportions; she considered drawing them constantly a nightmare. Mokona found it reassuring to have partners who can check your work. Sometimes they decide on the colors to get the approval of the publisher to work on the storyboard and then agree on the birthday and height of the characters. The height is important because it's for drawing proportions that are made to keep consistency when drawing characters. The character designs look like character sheets like the ones you would see in anime. When they first set out to draw the members consulted such things as whether or not thin lines mesh well in the manga. what color materials they would be using the members play it by ear as they go along when they draw. Before drawing the portraits of the characters, Nekoi takes special care of the characters by differentiating them with their hairstyles. 

For creating the clothes for the characters, Clamp dresses their character in stuff based on their own or things their acquaintances wear. Clamp reads a lot of informational magazines and fashion magazines on a personal basis which serves as inspiration for characters. Some of the clothes and other items that characters in Clamp wear are inspired by real-life pieces but most of them are done initially by Mokona.

Once the main characters are completed, they decide on the detailed settings for those characters,  The members decide on each character's birthday and height. The height is used for doing the proportions of the characters. for the character settings the group goes into detail about the characters like what food they eat, special skills, how and when they do things, how they grew up, when they were young, their hobbies, the type of house they live in whether its Japanese or western style, if they are sleeping wearing pajamas or negligees and whether they like sweets or not; for example if a character is eating sweets it means that a character grew up in an environment where sweets can be easily eaten and if a character has long hair it can be tied or untied these details reference the characters way of life and polices the reason Clamp focuses on what a character likes to eat is because what a person eats says a lot about a character in personality. There's a lot of thought that goes into making character settings. It's mostly to advance writing their characters or fleshing them out as individuals. The character settings are important when writing the characters in the story These details are important for them to write for the characters the character profile is used so they won’t get confused when writing a character for the story to keep the writing of the character to remain consistent throughout the story. 

Materials 

When drawing manga and illustrations the group often determines the materials they use to draw during the meetings 

Once they set out drawing they first consult things like whether or not thin lines and colors. Clamp used different techniques, art materials, and paper when they did manga and color illustrations Clamp used different materials at their disposal. For drawing Rayearth, the materials they use to draw manga are used include other works as well. The heavy colors are used to suit the tone of the story. This goes to show that you can change the impression by changing the pen you use and the paper used. 

You can change the impression based on the paper you use. The paper makes a great first impression on the manga. Paper is not the only thing that changes the impression of the manga they draw, also the materials they use are used to change the impression. 

Clamp uses different paper sizes for each work, the manga paper is sorted for each one of the members to use. Clamp has strong drawing pressure for their strong drawing pressure they chose thick paper.  They use paper made by Daieidou printing for manga drawings because the members have a strong drawing pressure so they chose a thick paper that's three times thicker than manga paper. For the paper that the members use for illustrations Igarashi, Nekoi, and Mokona use Watson paper, BB Kent back of manga paper of copy paper. Both Ohkawa and Igarashi like acid-free paper, they love the sandy texture and don't like smooth art-coated paper. The reason for that is that if the paper is too smooth the texture will not be the same. Clamp uses many materials for works such as Copic markers and alcohol-based products, They use Kaimei Indian ink, and for color inks, they use Holbein and Holbein special black The screentone they use Brans that Clamp uses is  I.C. 's and Letraset.

When they first used computer equipment,  they were instructed by Takeshi Okazaki and Katsuya Terada. satsuki was into photoshop so Takeshi Yamazaki gave satsuki lessons in photoshop.  

For the materials that Clamp used in their past works, rg veda used color inks, aeroflash, Liquitex, and modeling paste, Rayearth used Copic markers, Mokona used color inks for Mask of 20 faces, Tokyo Babylon used color tones and angelic layer had them use thick fountain pen like liner markers for drawing the manga.

Mokona’s pen uses a Kabura and a Marupen. Depending on the weather she draws a line to see which is better. Her favorite pens are Zebras Maru pen and Kabura pen nibs. with lnks, her favorite is Kaimei Indian Ink and Holbein’s Grey or Nouvel’s Burnt Sienna. What she used to draw backgrounds is Pigma 0.05, Mokona has strong drawing pressure. The G pen is too soft for her. She tried using one but it is hard to adjust and prefers using a harder pen. She uses a magic marker with a pigment ink called Prokey she used to draw letters on paper and uses Pentels water-resistant brush pens for solid areas like hair. She uses a powder board for paper with larger pieces and Baron Kent paper stretched with water. For RG Veda backgrounds Mokona used a lot of airbrush techniques. Mokona draws with thicker lines, and her drawings have been drawn with thicker lines. In the beginning, like in the third volume of Tokyo Babylon, the character's faces are angular and have thicker lines which show that her art is changing. Syaoran was Mokona’s favorite character to draw in Tsubasa.

Nekoi uses different nibs for the maru pen and g pen; she uses the Kabura pen for concentrated and close straight lines, also Pigma 0.5 for backgrounds.

For paper Nekoi uses whatever paper they have at hand to the back of wrapping paper bits of cardboard that have fallen around the back of cosmetics box envelopes from the publisher, the wrapping paper from a cup of tea that is Japanese style. She uses an eraser to reduce the tones in the screentone and sandpaper to reduce the large areas of tone she uses. A fine grit sandpaper will decrease nicely but not allow for fine adjustment which she had to fix with an eraser later. Nekoi loved experimenting with new painting materials; she especially loved painting in color.

Step to Step in Creating Manga

When it comes to drawing manga there are steps taken to create manga. these are the materials they use for drawing manga The list of materials and things they use in the steps to create manga are listed as this

1.) plastic eraser, mechanical pencil 0.5 HB

2.) Pigma 0.5, magic marker

3.) brush pen

4.) screen tone, tone cutters round sand eraser 

5.) pen white, liquid paper ink, Mython

lastly, for writing the script, they use a pc

For the steps they use to create manga Rayearth I think it might be the same steps they use to draw other manga that come after it might be the same steps they did for Tsubasa,xxxholic, and other manga that come after it, and the materials they use. I bet it's the same materials used for Tsubasa, Card Captor Sakura and xxxholic.

1.) The plot is written by Ohkawa on a personal computer with manuscript paper, For the rough they draw frames with a pencil and roughly insert characters and other elements, they draw the rough while paying attention to the composition and balance the draw the panel as to what you want to show most when you are doing a specific scene. The rough is a lot of lines and its way is less detailed. The rough is used for the placement to know the place of things to ink. You can see the same rough stage with Tsubasa and xxxholic. 

Clamp pays attention to the distribution of lines in the panels, the reason why Clamp pays attention to the number of lines is because it's a manga and they are going to ink over and over again. The reason they pay attention to the number of lines in the rough is to calculate how much you ink while you draw. the number of lines you use while you ink is important because you are going to use it over again

the rough is drawn with a pencil, they used a regular pencil for the rough rather than a mechanical pencil since the mechanical pencil has fine lines 

2.)  Next is the sketching phase, in the sketching phase the characters are drawn with a mechanical pencil they check the drawing by looking through the rough manuscript and back. Once the sketch is finished the member will fix it until they are satisfied The background is only included briefly in the sketch.

3.)  The inking stages for the steps of Magic Knight Rayearth are inked mainly using a Pigma 0.05 or Kaimuji marker or brush. When Mokona was drawing Rayearth Mokona had strong drawing pressure so her lines became thicker She changed pens as soon as she noticed it her strong drawing pressure caused Mokonas tip of her pen to break quickly they often used 4 to 5 bottles a day for inking. 

4.)  Next up the beta stage, after they are done with inking they erase and check it again After that the members add solids the tool used is a brush pen to fill in areas like hair and stuff. They use ink that is resistant to water because if it is water resistant the area will become thin when the eraser is applied. 

The steps for rough and sketch are used in their other works only the materials that are used for inking change consistently Depending on the series 

5.)  Next is the toning stage when they add screentone traditionally to a manga page, when it comes to screen tone they make sure that no more appears in the overlapped areas Clamp use a circular blade type cut when they apply screentone traditionally to a manga and small areas might be scrapped with a sand eraser scrapping the tone can change the texture of the object. They consider the effect and carefully cut it and their grain to the tone and know in which its neatly scrapped directions are not scrapped. 

In Rayearth tint and gradation tones are used, and a little gala for the screen tone of the manga. 

6.) This is the last stage of Clamp creation in drawing manga. The last stage is to express light and create glamorous images white is used for it. when applying white fluid to the image which is done by flicking the brush on the correction fluid with the rim of the container the effect changes depending on the concentration of the liquid. You can add white to the toothbrush or flick it with your finger. It changes the effect of the image. If you add fine white dilute it with water to adjust for the white. Clamp uses quirk drawing because the pen can be put on the white later.

This technique was applied in other manga like Tsubasa, Card Captor Sakura, and their other works. They used the same white ink to make a beautiful panel.  

Next

[talonabraxas]

Solar Diety

A solar deity (also sun god(dess)) is a deity who represents the sun, or an aspect of it, usually by its perceived power and strength. Solar deities and sun worship can be found throughout most of recorded history in various forms. Hence, many beliefs have formed around this worship, such as the "missing sun" found in many cultures.

Solar deities throughout cultures

In different religions solarised supreme deities carry different names and are associated with different aspects of the cultural universe of the society, but for the most part its raw image remains identical.

The Neolithic concept of a solar barge, the sun as traversing the sky in a boat, is found in the later myths of ancient Egypt, with Ra and Horus. Earlier Egyptian myths imply that the sun is within the lioness, Sekhmet, at night and can be seen reflected in her eyes or that it is within the cow, Hathor during the night, being reborn each morning as her son (bull). Proto-Indo-European religion has a solar chariot, the sun as traversing the sky in a chariot.

During the Roman Empire, a festival of the birth of the Unconquered Sun (or Dies Natalis Solis Invicti) was celebrated on the winter solstice — the "rebirth" of the sun. In Germanic mythology this is Sol, in Vedic Surya, and in Greek Helios (occasionally referred to as Titan) and (sometimes) as Apollo. Mesopotamian Shamash plays an important role during the Bronze Age, and "my Sun" is eventually used as an address to royalty. Similarly, South American cultures have emphatic Sun worship, see Inti.

During the later periods of Roman history, sun worship gained in importance and ultimately led to what has been called a “solar monotheism.” Nearly all the gods of the period were possessed of solar qualities, and both Christ and Mithra acquired the traits of solar deities. The feast of Sol Invictus (Unconquered Sun) on December 25 was celebrated with great joy, and eventually this date was taken over by the Christians as Christmas, the birthday of Christ.[1]

Hinduism

The Ādityas are one of the principal deities of the Vedic classical Hinduism belonging to Solar class. In the Vedas, numerous hymns are dedicated to Mitra, Varuna and Savitr.

Even the Gayatri mantra, which is regarded as one of the most sacred of the Vedic hymns is dedicated to Savitr, one of the principal Ādityas. The Adityas are a group of solar deities, from the Brahmana period numbering twelve. The ritual of sandhyavandanam, performed by Hindus, is an elaborate set of hand gestures and body movements, designed to greet and revere the sun.

The sun god in Hinduism is an ancient and revered deity. In later Hindu usage, all the Vedic Ādityas lost identity and metamorphosed into one composite deity, Surya, the sun. The attributes of all other Ādityas merged into that of Surya and the names of all other Ādityas became synonymous with or epithets of Surya.

The Ramayana has Lord Rama as a descendant of the Surya, thus belonging to the Surya Vansh or the clan of the Sun. The Mahabharata describes one of its warrior heroes Karna as being the son of the Pandava mother Kunti and Surya.

The sun god is said to married to the goddess Ranaadeh, also known as Sanjnya. She is depicted in dual form, being both sunlight and shadow, personified. The goddess is revered in Gujarat and Rajasthan.

The charioteer of Surya is Aruna, who is also personified as the redness that accompanies the sunlight in dawn and dusk. The Sun God is driven by a seven-horsed Chariot depicting the seven days of the week.

In India, at Konark, in the state of Orissa, a temple is dedicated to Surya. The Konark temple has also been declared a UNESCO world heritage site. Surya is the most prominent of the navagrahas or nine celestial objects of the Hindus. Navagrahas can be found in almost all Hindu temples. There are further temples dedicated to Surya, one in Arasavilli, Srikakulam District in AndhraPradesh, one in Gujarat and another in Rajasthan. The temple at Arasavilli was constructed in such a way that on the day of Radhasaptami, the sun's rays directly fall on the feet of the Sri Suryanarayana Swami, the deity at the temple.

Chhath (Hindi: छठ, also called Dala Chhath) is an ancient Hindu festival dedicated to Surya, the chief solar deity, unique to Bihar, Jharkhand and the Terai. This major festival is also celebrated in the northeast region of India, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, and parts of Chhattisgarh.Hymns praying to the sun can be found in the Vedas, the oldest sacred texts of Hinduism. Practiced in different parts of India, the worship of the sun has been described in the Rigveda.

Ancient Egypt

Sun worship was exceptionally prevalent in ancient Egyptian religion. The earliest deities associated with the sun are Wadjet, Sekhmet, Hathor, Nut, Bastet, Bat, and Menhit. First Hathor, and then Isis, give birth to and nurse Horus and Ra. Hathor the horned-cow is one of the twelve daughters of Ra, gifted with joy and is a wet-nurse to Horus.

The sun's movement across the sky represents a struggle between the Pharaoh's soul and an avatar of Osiris. Ra travels across the sky in his solar-boat; at dawn he drives away the demon apep of darkness. The "solarisation" of several local gods (Hnum-Re, Min-Re, Amon-Re) reaches its peak in the period of the fifth dynasty.

In the eighteenth dynasty, Akhenaten changed the polytheistic religion of Egypt to a monotheistic one, Atenism of the solar-disk and is the first recorded state monotheism. All other deities were replaced by the Aten, including, Amun-Ra, the reigning sun god of Akhenaten's own region. Unlike other deities, the Aten did not have multiple forms. His only image was a disk—a symbol of the sun.

Soon after Akhenaten's death, worship of the traditional deities was reestablished by the religious leaders (Ay the High-Priest of Amen-Ra, mentor of Tutankhaten/Tutankhamen) who had adopted the Aten during the reign of Akhenaten.

Chinese mythology

In Chinese mythological cosmology, there were originally ten suns in the sky, who were all brothers. They were supposed to emerge one at a time as commanded by the Jade Emperor. They were all very young and loved to fool around. Once they decided to all go into the sky to play, all at once. This made the world too hot and nothing grew. A hero named Hou Yi shot down nine of them with a bow and arrow to save the people of the earth. He is still honored to this day. In another myth, the solar eclipse was caused by the magical dog of heaven biting off a piece of the sun. The referenced event is said to have occurred around 2,160BCE. There was a tradition in China to make lots of loud celebratory sounds during a solar eclipse to scare the sacred "dog" away. The Deity of the Sun in Chinese mythology is Ri Gong Tai Yang Xing Jun (Tai Yang Gong / Grandfather Sun) or Star Lord of the Solar Palace, Lord of the Sun. In some mythologies, Tai Yang Xing Jun is believed to be Hou Yi. Tai Yang Xing Jun is usually decipted with the Star Lord of the Lunar Palace, Lord of the Moon, Yue Gong Tai Yin Xing Jun (Tai Yin Niang Niang / Lady Tai Yin).

Buddhism

In Buddhist cosmology, the bodhisattva of the sun is known as Ri Gong Ri Guang Pu Sa (The Bright Solar Boddhisattva of the Solar Palace) / Ri Gong Ri Guang Tian Zi (The Bright Solar Prince of the Solar Palace) / Ri Gong Ri Guang Zun Tian Pu Sa (The Greatly Revered Bright Solar Prince of the Solar Palace / one of the 20 or 24 guardian devas). In Sanskrit, He is known as Suryaprabha. He is usually decipted with Yue Gong Yue Guang Pu Sa (The Bright Lunar Boddhisattva of the Lunar Palace) / Yue Gong Yue Guang Tian Zi ( The Bright Lunar Prince of the Lunar Palace) / Yue Gong Yue Guang Zun Tian Pu Sa (The Greatly Revered Bright Lunar Prince of the Lunar Palace / one of the 20 or 24 guardian devas) or known as Candraprabha in Sanskrit. With Yao Shi Fo / Bhaisajyaguru Buddha (Medicine Buddha), these two boddhisattvas create the Dong Fang San Sheng or the Three Holy Sages of the East.

Africa

The Munshi tribe considers the sun to be the son of the supreme being Awondo and the moon is Awondo's daughter. The Barotse tribe believes that the Sun is inhabited by the sky god Nyambi and the Moon is his wife. Even where the sun god is equated with the supreme being, in some African mythologies he or she does not have any special functions or privileges as compared to other deities.

Aztec mythology

In Aztec mythology, Tonatiuh (Nahuatl:Ollin Tonatiuh "Movement of the Sun") was the sun god. The Aztec people considered him the leader of Tollan, heaven. He was also known as the fifth sun, because the Aztecs believed that he was the sun that took over when the fourth sun was expelled from the sky. According to their cosmology, each sun was a god with its own cosmic era. According to the Aztecs, they were still in Tonatiuh's era. According to the Aztec creation myth, the god demanded human sacrifice as tribute and without it would refuse to move through the sky. It is said that 20,000 people were sacrificed each year to Tonatiuh and other gods, though this number is thought to be inflated either by the Aztecs, who wanted to inspire fear in their enemies, or the Spaniards, who wanted to vilify the Aztecs. The Aztecs were fascinated by the sun and carefully observed it, and had a solar calendar second only in accuracy to the Mayan's. Many of today's remaining Aztec monuments have structures aligned with the sun.

In the Aztec calendar, Tonatiuh is the lord of the thirteen days from 1 Death to 13 Flint. The preceding thirteen days are ruled over by Chalchiuhtlicue, and the following thirteen by Tlaloc.

Indonesian mythology

The same swapping process is seen in Indonesia. The solar gods have a stronger presence in Indonesia's religious life and myth. In some cases the sun is revered as a "father" or "founder" of the tribe. This may apply for the whole tribe or only for the royal and ruling families. This practise is more common in Australia and on the island of Timor, where the tribal leaders are seen as direct heirs to the sun god.

Some of the initiation rites include the second reincarnation of the rite's subject as a "son of the sun", through a symbolic death and a rebirth in the form of a sun. These rituals hint that the Sun may have an important role in the sphere of funerary beliefs. Watching the un's path has given birth to the idea in some societies that the deity of the Sun descends in to the underworld without dying and is capable of returning afterward. This is the reason for the Sun being associated with functions such as guide of the deceased tribe members to the underworld, as well as with revival of perished. The sun is a mediator between the planes of the living and the dead.

Theosophy The primary local deity in Theosophy is the Solar Logos, i.e., the consciousness of the sun.

[vievieveda]

busy | francesco & veda

@philoflore:

Well, perhaps tonight was not going to be suited for relaxing with a nice cup of tea. At least, this was what he figured. The patrons weren't much like the sort you found on the patios of his hometown, although he generally found that you shouldn't judge a person by their language, or their clothes, or the state of their hygiene, though he did pray that what he was seeing on the sole of these boots was mud. It didn't smell much like it did in his garden, and he kept his finger against his nostrils as he waited for the woman he thought to be the owner to return. She seemed to have it all under control, which he found quite remarkable, given the rough manners of her clientele.

"That look is nothing less but my way of expressing awe, Madam. Miss. Tavern keeper." He wrinkled his nose. He figured that the place was always in such a state, no matter the day. "Oh. Hum. I ... Well..." The look he gave her then was apologetic. He was just about to ask her something more complicated than that. "I suppose I can survive without tea. Perhaps do you store Chartreuse." It came from the bottle, and it also was just a cocktail of plants carefully selected. Closest and furthest thing to tea he could think of.

.

"Veda. Vee if you're feeling some sort of way," she introduced when he tried to assign her a title. The human was no madam or miss, at least not in her mind. Having spent the majority of her formative years in the tavern had erased any manners or courtesy she might have formed elsewhere. Veda's language and general attitude was the same as the rowdy patrons that helped earn her keep. And she wouldn't have it any other way. "But the awe is appreciated all the same. That being said, feel free to remain awestruck even as I reluctantly tell you I have no Chartreuse and offer you some Madeira instead?" Vee graced the man with her most charming smile, resting her chin in her hand and elbow on the bartop. The options were limited by the tastes of her usual clientele. She only carried Madeira for the few regulars that preferred wine. "I've been told the ale doesn't taste like horsepiss tonight, as well."

[web-novel-polls]

ORV Constellations Tournament Submissions

Last Checked: September 15th, 2024 - Please check the original post for updates

Submissions Close Date: TBD

Rules:

Must be from ORV / Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint or an ORV-based OC. They do not have to be from canon 

One constellation per response. Submit as many responses as you want

Constellations listed within examples/questions are not already included nor do they have priority

If unsure about anything, just write "unsure" or something like that. Submissions won't be rejected if there's missing info; I just need something to call them at the very least 

Lying is allowed because it’s ORV, and I think dishonesty is a virtue (<-lying)

Tournament Tag: #orv constellations tournament

Submissions

(Major spoilers below!)

Cheok Jungyeong / Goryeo's First Sword 

Cheok Jungyeong gazed at the night sky through my eyes. I could feel the explosive emotions mixed in the silence. Cheok Jungyeong's rage and sadness. His grief… And… his decision.  [You can feel proud.]  Cheok Jungyeong spoke to me.  [Those who are at the highest point in this damn world are afraid of you.]  "…What is pride worth when I am going to die?"  [You won't die.]  They were just words, but they were words spoken by a constellation.  As if putting a buoy against fate, all the stories built by Cheok Jungyeong were rooted in my existence.  [I won't let you die.] - Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, Chapter 176

Nebula: Hongik

Submission 1: I LOVE HIM IDC I CAN'T EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW

Submission 2: The one who always has kimcom's back, from very early on. He puts himself on the line for those incarnations while others turn away 

Submission 3: he shows up to look broody, kill on Kim Dokja's command, then dip 

Director of the False Last Act 

Nebula: Kimcom / Kim Dokja’s Company 

Submission: This is my favorite OC!!!!!!! She's really cool and powerful and swag and is friends with Kim Dokja Company. She can command Yoo Joonghyuk to do her bidding and even was engaged to him once :) 

Galileo / Another One Bites the Dust

No propaganda submitted

Kim Dokja / Oldest Dream

Nebula: Kimcom / Kim Dokja’s Company

Submission: I love the concept of Oldest Dream so much that if I had a physical copy of ORV i would be biting the novel right now <3 

Lame Trickster

Nebula: Unknown

Submission: I just think the one legged swift horse stigma is kinda funny. Imagine you're basically like a god and your special god skill is you can run away super fast. You bestow your super skill onto the human that has earned your respect and favour (now he can run away super fast too). Amazing

Loki / Constellation Who Likes to Change Sex

Nebula: Asgard

Submission: [The constellation who likes to change sex is changing your sex] 

Master of Steel

Submission: a quiet supporter died also rather forgotten death. sacrificed himself for kimcom ;-; 

No Stranger to Love

Submission: He just wants to turn everything into a romance, and I think that's beautiful

Samyeongdang / Bald General of Justice

Nebula: Hongik 

Submission: haha. bald

Sigmund Freud / Discoverer of the Subconscious

Submission: it's funny what more could you want

Image Link

Surya / Supreme God of Light

Nebula: Vedas

Submission: he's so cool tbh, i hope his design will bang 

Uriel / Demonic Judge of Fire

Nebula: Eden 

Submission 1: she loves so much, so bright, so burning. 

Submission 2: I want to make sure my girl is in the brackets. She is really really cool and also very powerful. She also canonically mixed up the metaphor about calling followers "sheep" and she just brought sheep in Eden.

Submission 3: She's just like me fr 

Yoo Junghyuk / Secretive Plotter

Submission: 

does an outer god who was assumed to be a constellation for majority of plot counts? either way, he's one of the OGs four of kdj's channel

[camelspit]

Best Keeper Character Bracket: Preliminary Rounds

June 1

Alden Vacker, Lady Alexine, Councillor Alina, Alvar Vacker, Amisi

Amy Foster, Lady Anwen, Audric, Barth the Reaper, Sir Beckett

Behnam Aria, Lady Belva, Benesh Vacker, Bethany Lopez, Bex Dizznee

June 2

Biana Vacker, Blur, Boo Boo the Boobrie, Boobrie Dude, Bo

Coach Bora, Brant [REDACTED], Brielle, Brier, Brisa

Councillor Bronte, Sir Bubu, Bullhorn, Bun-Bun the Bunny, Bunhead

June 3

Master Cadence, Cadfael, Cadoc, Calla, Caprise Redek

Lord Cassius, Sir Caton, Lady Ceah, Ceri, Councillor Clarette

Coackatrice, Sir Conley, Cyrah Endal, Damel Kafuta, Lady Dara

June 4

Councillor Darek, Dedra, Della Vacker, Lady Delmira, Dempsey

Dex Dizznee, King Dimitar, Sir Donwell, Durand Redek, Edaline Ruewen

Eleanor Wright, Elidyr, Ella the Elephant, Elwin Heslege, Elysian

June 5

Councillor Emery, Emma Foster, King Enki, Ermete, Esha Aria

Ethan Wright II, Lady Evera, Fallon Vacker, Sir Faxon, Lady Fayina

Fernan Babblos, Fintan Pyren, Fitz Vacker, Flori, Mr Forkle

June 6

Lady Galvin, Garwin Chang, Gerda, Gethen Ondsinn, Gildie

Lady Gisela, Gora, Grady Ruewen, Greyfell, Grizel

Queen Gundula, Sir Harding, Harlin Vacker, Harry the Jackalope, Huxley

June 7

Queen Hylda, Iggy, Irja, Lady Iskra, Sir Jarvin

Jensi Babblos, Jolie and Brant's Gremlin, Jolie Ruewen, Juji, Juline Dizznee

Jurek, Keefe Sencen, Councillor Kenric, Kesler Dizznee, King Gowg

June 8

Kloris, Krikor, Kun, Sir Leander, Lefty

Lesedi Chebota, Lex Dizznee, Linh Song, Councillor Liora, Livvy Sonden

Lovise, Luna, Lur, Luzia Vacker, Mai Song

June 9

Marella Redek, Marty, Maruca Chebota, Mitya, Nesrin

Lady Nissa, Councillor Noland, Norene Vacker, Queen Nubiti, Ollie Heks

Opher, Councillor Oralie, Orem Vacker, Pelipa Heks, Lady Pemberley

June 10

Empress Pernille, Prentice Endal, Princess Purryfins, Quan Song, Quinlin Sonden

Quinlin's Receptionist, Councillor Ramira, Rayni Aria, Rex Dizznee, Righty

Coach Rohana, Ro, Sir Rosings, Ruy Ignis, Sandor

June 11

Lady Sanja, Lady Sassyfur the Sasquatch, Shayda Adel, Silla Heks, Silveny

Sior, Mr Snuggles, Sir Splashyhugs the Kelpie, Sophie Foster, Lady Song

Sprocket, Stina Heks, Mrs Stinkbottom, Stinky the Stegosaurus, Mr Sweeney

June 12

Tam Song, Tarina, Councillor Terik, Thales the Sower, Tiergan Alenfar

Timkin Heks, Timur, Tinker, Trella, Trix

Twinkle, Umber, Urre, Valin, Lady Veda

June 13

Councillor Velia, Verdi, Vered, Vertina, Lady Vespera

Vika Heks, Watson, Coach Wilda, William Foster, Woltzer

Wraith, Wylie Endal, Wynn, Yegor, Yuri, Councillor Zarina, Lady Zillah

June 15

Comeback Round

Note! If I have missed a character or misspelled something PLEASE let me know. There are currently 197 characters and they can be hard to keep track of 😔 if you want to check on a certain character, the list is alphabetized.

[sivavakkiyar]

I do kind of miss being an undergrad and willfully saying technically haha you know what I mean-true and ‘annoying’ things like ‘The Vedas are classics of Pakistani literature, like Homer is one of the first great Turkish poets’

[goodeapple]

i had all and then most of you / some and now none of you

VI

"It's been 84 years..."

What can I say? Sometimes a girl just needs a 6 month hiatus, more than one breakdown, and an entire chapter rewrite to come back SWINGING.

I really hope you bitches like this. I feel like I just birthed a child.

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : oh yeah, they fuckin'

word count : 12,000+

masterlist

tags : @erensfreedom221 @aiyaiy @gknj9495 @saintaliasblog

Ysilla hisses, feline-like and ferocious, as her auburn haired companion pulls the laces around her waist impossibly tighter. Her air is thin and her head spins in circles, and she misses the apologetic wince her handmaiden gifts her. 

“I’m sorry, milady, we’re nearly done.” Veda’s voice is pained, as if she’s the one being squeezed together until her guts pour from her mouth.  

Ysilla bites her tongue, exhaling the little breath she has, before unscrewing her eyes. The corners of her vision twinkle in pinpricks of black, before fading away to reveal the faded stone of her walls. She pats Veda’s hand delicately, trying to calm her maid’s worry.

“It’s alright, no need for apologies. Let’s just…” Ysilla pauses, attempting to speak without breathing. It’s more trying than one would think. “Finish with this, and get on with this blasted day.”

Veda lifts the corner of her mouth in an attempt at an agreeing grin, but the apprehensive tremble of her fingers betrays her unease. The Princess has had to be handled sensitively as of the last few weeks. Ever since returning from her ancestral home, with the newest heir to the crown held tight in her arms, the maids that doted on the young beauty for years noticed a drastic change. Motherhood alters each woman who undertakes it, but Ysilla seemed to carry a heavier load than most. Veda had to blot away countless tears on numerous nights, and she had long ago lost track of the hours spent holding the Princess’s hand, lending a listening ear to her lady’s worries while they both strived to calm an ever fussy Daenerys. The dark circles under Ysilla’s eyes matched the violet of her irises. A powdered paint the tone of her skin had to be tapped into the hollowness, lest she were to arouse worry within her close circle. And by strict order of their mistress, whispers of Ysilla’s struggles would never be heard by any other Targaryen, with special emphasis placed on a certain one-eyed devil. The women fought the burning urge to argue, only wishing for what was best for their lady, but worries of causing further cracks in the young heiress had their lips sealed like a tomb.

With a final yank and a hasty knot, Veda smooths down the cream colored shift layered over the rigid corset and steps away from the Princess. 

“Thank the Gods,” Ysilla japes. She’s grateful that Veda is helping her dress behind the partition- the day ahead of her will be endlessly vexatious, filled with visiting families paying well-wishes, spirited vendors hawking their goods, and enough horses to turn the air rank with hay and manure. This hush in her day, no matter how physically disagreeable, is a moment Ysilla will savor like a poached pear. 

She taps her nails along the stiff component constricting her, restless jitters dashing through her before huffing in defeat, teetering around to face her friend. 

Veda’s eyes go a bit wide, a bashful grin showing her endearingly crooked teeth brightening her face. She twiddles her fingers, her girlish giggle a welcome, light sound. 

Ysilla follows where her handmaiden’s gaze had been glued, and sighs a dismal breath. Her body is still something she is trying to reacquaint herself with- finding a friend in the jagged lines where her daughter had stretched her belly, in the fleshiness of her thighs that had thickened with the added weight, and something she hadn’t quite lost yet, the fullness of her chest that threatened to burst out of every gown’s neckline. 

And this morning, her breasts want to come out and say hello to the world. Ysilla whines, hands settling on hips and her lip caught between chewing teeth. Ysilla chances a glance at Veda, hoping for some help but the handmaid is occupied, a pair of boots in either hand, before one loses the war and gets tossed back into her trunk. Veda kneels at the Targaryen girl’s feet, clasping one ankle and maneuvering her foot into the leather. 

“One thing is for sure, no one will be looking at your feet, Princess.” 

Ysilla lets her anxiousness dissipate with a weak laugh. Her door opens after a knock, Ysilla unable to even voice her acknowledgement before the newcomer makes their entrance. Or, newcomers it seems, as the familiar sound of infantile babbling floats to her ears. Veda rises after securing the boot straps, curtsying low to the floor in greeting, and that tells Ysilla all she needs to know about the stranger facing her turned back. 

“Happy morning, husband. I trust you slept well to prepare for the day’s events.” Ysilla greets the Targaryen prince, palms dampening with perspiration. She hopes the soft spool of her dress is absorbent as she pats them dry. 

“I slept as well as you did, wife. With our sprog’s restlessness, I fear the pair of us will be battling yawns until the day draws to its end.” The rich sharpness of Aemond’s voice flows over her like spun silk, and Ysilla yearns for the comfort it once brought her. But a whisper shared by a kitchen maid over her morning tea stunts that joy from blossoming. 

“I hear that’s not the only thing you’ll be battling today.” The bite in her words is hungry, and she hopes it punctures somewhere deep in Aemond. 

Things between the young mother and father have been… strained, as of late. Ysilla grew jaded as the self-loathing from the night of Daenerys’ birth had dissipated, and righteous anger took root. Everyday, she struggled under the heavy weight of what her delirium nearly made her do and everyday, she poured over what should have happened instead. The maesters who had conspired to commit the unspeakable were turned to ash within hours of her daughter’s coming, but even their demises were not enough to quell uneasy thoughts. She hung all attention on every inhale and exhale, a fear she’s never known accompanying all of the cries, gasps, coughs, and sneezes Daenerys released. It kept Ysilla teetering on a tightrope of exhaustion and madness that felt thinner as the days drifted on. 

As for Aemond… Gods, she missed how her and Aemond were before. Not before their daughter’s birth, but before the night’s events had revealed the absolute worst parts of each other to the newlyweds. Her desperate attempt, his cruel words. Then after, when they were back in King’s Landing, her effort at amends and his refusal to acknowledge anything had gone awry. 

The energy that Daenerys drained from her left little to be spared for trying to fathom her husband’s distance. To then have to attempt to amend her marriage, their marriage, by herself? Feeling as if it were starting to slip into a courteously, cold union, while their beginnings rivaled the intensity of dragonfire? She felt like a shadow of herself and she hated it. 

“Mmmm, so the little birds have begun their incessant chirping early today, I see.” Aemond sounds removed from the conversation and the pinch at the back of her scalp from Veda tucking in a hair pin makes Ysilla want to scream. 

“Is it true, Aemond? Are you joining in today’s competition or not?” 

“Yes, Ysilla, I intend to do so. I apologize that I did not request your approval before I reached my decision.” The sarcasm isn’t appreciated by his wife, as her foot begins to tap. Veda doesn’t quite shoot him a warning look, as that would be highly improper, but it is just shy of a glare. 

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Aemond isn’t sure if his wife is attempting to be funny, but he laughs either way. Better to laugh than to continue to bicker. They aren’t at their wit's ends with each other; it leans more towards easy irritation- but it is bearable. Like sticky fingers after indulging in lemon cakes. Or the tightness of sunbathed skin after a day of dragon riding. 

“Stop squirming, Daenerys, I just laced these terrible things.” Their daughter shrieks at her father’s chiding, unhappy at being commanded and Ysilla cocks her head in puzzlement. Only one of her girl’s formal pieces has laces, and it is, of course, the one made by Aemond’s mother. The exact opposite piece Ysilla had chosen for her daughter while she was being bathed this morning. 

“That is why I laid out the red one for her, Aemond. She doesn’t care for the green.” Ysilla huffs, annoyance bleeding into her tone. She flinches hearing it, hoping Aemond doesn’t recognize it and take it as his cue to leave her be. She wants him here, even if she is slighted by his very stupid decision. She wants all three of them together, marital and parental bliss, a thought she’s dreamed of since her pregnancy began. 

“She’s a baby, Ysilla, she doesn’t know the difference.” Ysilla can’t see his face but she can hear the eye roll in his voice and it blisters her something awful. Her brow twitches. Bliss be damned, then. 

“Is that right?” Ysilla pulls once more at the oppressive fabric around her chest, righting her gown into something just near comfortable before rounding the edge of the shade, her husband and babe at last coming into view. 

Aemond must’ve been in the midst of dressing- his tunic is absent and his hair undone and flowing freely around his face. The strings to tighten the collar of his shirt hang limp, displaying the entirety of his upper chest. His eyepatch is missing, the glittering gem tossing sparkles of light in every direction. Their little girl is seemingly miniscule in his cradling arms, thick muscle corded under his creamy pale skin. 

Ysilla’s irritation ebbs, her belly twisting with want at the vision her dashing husband makes. One thing has been unchanged throughout these last few moons, and that is her overwhelming desire for Aemond. If anything, her emotions have been heightened, heavier than before Daenerys. Sweltering, sizzling she is now, her fingers a dismal help to aid in her hunger.

Daenerys’ whining cry shreds whatever may be left of Ysilla’s nerves and she stalks across the room to pluck her daughter from Aemond’s arms. 

He doesn’t protest, face carefully drawn and impassive as he hands over his wiggly hatchling. In contrast, the pupil of his eye roves over his wife’s choice of attire wildly, mouth pursing in an emotion Ysilla cannot place. 

“Is that new?” 

Ysilla rocks her babe, shushing softly, trying to soothe her upset. She blinks at her husband, turning away from him and walking about the room, bouncing as she goes. “No, it was a gift from my grandmother for my last nameday. It just… the fit is just different now, that’s all.” The embarrassment that floods her is a feeling she does not wish for. As if Aemond is not just as familiar with her body as she is- but perhaps he no longer is. Nearly three moons have passed since Daenerys’ coming and their marital bed has been simply a place for them to rest their heads. Nothing more, even though Ysilla feels the press of his manhood along her back each time she wakes. 

“I could’ve had something made for you. You need only ask.” 

Ysilla does not believe he hides any other meaning behind his words, but she has already decided her mood to be sour and her discomfort eliminates any interest in harmony. 

“I can ask on my own, thank you. And just mayhaps, it would’ve been nice to be surprised.” Aemond is quiet and Ysilla thinks he may have taken that as his cue to depart, but the sudden brush of a presence at her back stills her. 

“Would you care to elaborate on that… my love.” The sentiment is a stiff attempt for affection. The undercurrent of annoyance threatens to drench the words in a feud. 

Ysilla won’t rise to the bait- years of Jace’s prickliness, Lucerys’ hijinks, and Rhaena’s mood swings throughout childhood has steeled her resolve into not wavering to any goading. The satisfaction from not giving in to Aemond’s surging ire will make this entire terrible morning worthwhile.

Ysilla pats rhythmically at Daenerys’ bottom before turning to face the man. She locks their gazes, a demure smile the first pleasant look to grace her face in what feels like too long. 

“You should dress now, before the day grows longer. Wouldn’t want to be late for the tourney, would you?” 

Always so smart, her husband, as he relents and ends their conversation there. He takes his dismissal with a mock bow, strutting out of the room and flinging the door shut after him. For a while, Ysilla stares through the wood, swaying in place as her child naps in her arms, finally settled even if her parents are anything but. 

“Milady… Ysilla… do you need some more time before we head down?” Veda’s quietness rivals that of a mouse and even so, Ysilla startles. The younger mother presses a peck to her daughter’s forehead, love never far behind her fatigue. 

“No. Let’s do this.” 

.

.

.

The seat cushioned beneath Ysilla couldn’t be more stuffed with goosefeather lest it spill from the seams, but she still wiggles every few minutes in a dreadful attempt at finding comfort. The air is muggy, all traces of a breeze having vanished in the last hour, as the sun courses its trail through the cerulean sky. The stands are filled to the brim with bodies. The common folk surrounding the royal section are a jeering, boisterous crowd; pints of ale are passed hand-to-hand, bets placed on confident knights, and dancers twisting about to the troubadours’ tunes. As the joust stretches on, the mood seems to grow ever the more celebratory. 

Ysilla is pleased to see it- her sister’s first nameday, being celebrated by the entire city and more, a joyous day for her house. Joyous for her mother and father, a few seats behind her, crowned and carefree as they enjoy their cups and the health of their last babe. Joyous for Luke and Jace, dueling the day away with the visiting Hightower boys. And most joyous for her husband, as he has been victorious the last five rounds and not once been unseated off of his saddle. 

Truth be told, after the third round, Ysilla just grew more irritable at his lack of presence beside her and almost wished one of these knights would cause him to teeter, if only a bit. Not wanting to be reminded by a vacant chair beside her, Ysilla took her seat next to her grandparents, making a fair attempt at raising her spirits. First-born daughter and granddaughter came with its perks, and Ysilla would never deny the fact that she was spoiled in both love and company. But with Daenerys’ arrival, Ysilla was dethroned in favoritism and all but abandoned to her own thoughts. 

Grandsire Corlys is so taken with little Daenerys that he barely relents and gives her up to anyone else while he is near. He had nearly bowled Ysilla over once they made their appearance, his cane unable to keep up with him as he scooped up his newest descendant. Only to her Grandmother Rhaenys does he ever hand her over without much argument, and even that comes with some fuss. 

He tickles the tiny foot that had sprung free from Daenerys’ swaddle, swaying his locs playfully away from her inquisitive hands as the young mother vents her frustrations to the couple. 

“I am at a loss, I suppose, of how to move on from this point we’ve reached. I feel we take two steps forward only to take four back when we reach an impasse.” Ysilla sighs, watching with uninterested eyes as a Riverlands fighter tumbles into the dirt, narrowly missing being trampled by his own steed. 

Ysilla can hear the whine in her voice as she complains, and she herself grows tired of her sorrows, but today is an especially rough day and Ysilla does not have it in her to sit dutifully and clap at Aemond’s wins while he is the cause of much of her aggravation. Thankfully, Rhaenys’ patience has been fortified by years of the dealings of men and she just shushes her worries with a tender hand and an attentive inflection. 

“A child will bring either great union or a great rift to any marriage. You’re adding a whole other person to your lives- it’s natural, darling.

But with how it may start, does not always spell how it will go forth.” Rhaenys smiles a sly grin, rocking Daenerys in her arms, suddenly finding her great-grandbabe’s unintelligible noises fascinating. Ysilla frowns at the long gone gray woman. Riddles were never her forte. 

“What do you mean by that, grandmother?” Ysilla questions, knee bouncing rapidly, the eager cheers of the commoners and the neighing of horses clang between her throbbing temples. The noises grate on her nerves, plucked thin already by Daenerys’ lack of sleep and her and Aemond’s squabble. The two blatantly ignore Ysilla, causing her to huff and slump down in her chair. As much as she can with the corset’s bindings cutting into her skin.

She prays to all the Gods she knows that she’ll be back in her chambers before she knows it. Her prayers fall on deaf ears.

“Princess Ysilla, my my, how my memory does you such an injustice. You’re even more beautiful than the last time we met.” Ysilla’s misfortune is abundant this day, as she aims a startled gaze at the mystery ser approaching the balcony on horseback. His curls spring over his olive eyes like a brunette garden, full pink lips spread into an agreeing grin. Ysilla stares at him as if he will evaporate like sea foam.  

The Princess is confused and it must paint her face in a question. She looks to her grandmother for assistance but finds a perked brow of similar query. Her grandsire himself, ever a man drawn to the most elite of gossip, has stalled his cooings at her daughter and aimed his full attention at the knight. 

Ysilla figures it is time to speak, as the silence grows thicker the longer it stretches on. 

“Forgive me, my Lord. I seem to have misplaced your name.” It’s a rusted response, a not at all convincing one to boot. She tries for a grin but it is warped- she can tell by how it twists at her cheeks- all too tight lips and clenched teeth.

To his credit, the stranger takes it on the chin, and his melodic laugh eases her humiliation. 

“Of course, I was only a boy when we were first introduced. Lord Dominick Tyrell of Highgarden, Your Highness. Pleased to make your re- acquaintance.” 

The night of her ball on Dragonstone comes to mind, Ysilla cycling through the endless lords she greeted and dismissed, and a somewhat lankier, more timid young lord conjures from her memories. The blood red roses he had with him then are with him now, however, this time, the lush green stems are braided into a crown and multiple flowered heads adorn the botanical ornament. 

“Lord Tyrell, my most sincere apologies. You certainly have grown since then. Welcome to my home.” Stunted and sweet, her mother’s influence resonating in every terse word. Ysilla holds her sight on the posy he carries.

“I am charmed by your recollection, and I thank you for your hospitality. Before I take my turn on the field, I do have something to ask of you, Your Highness.” Lord Tyrell rolls his shoulders, as if reading himself to undertake a mighty feat. Ysilla’s heart drops. Oh no.  

He presents the gilded blooms, redolent and beauteous. “Your support would grant me the strength of a thousand soldiers, and allow me to spear through any rival facing me. Of this, I am most certain. Would you do me the honor of blessing me with your favor, to prove to you my worth as the ultimate lord of my house?”

Ysilla feels the heft of her family’s stares, heat creeping up her neck. She would rather jump into a dragon’s mouth than be in this position. 

“Not to be overt, my Lord, but you are aware that a Lady’s Favor, if not being bestowed upon family, is generally given by, ehm… by an unmarried Lady.” Ysilla sweeps her hand down herself in a show, attempting to drive her point through the man’s thick skull with a polite dignity. A mistake she commits as she draws his gaze to her figure, and all of his focus centers on her chest. 

Ysilla’s face darkens, an indignant frown downturning her visage. She slaps her palm over her cleavage, the smack on her skin startling the Tyrell. He blinks rapidly, flexing his hold on his stallion’s reigns, blushing deeper than that of her banner’s colors. Rhaenys hides a laugh in her husband’s shoulder.

“As well, I am unaware of who your opponent is. As next in line to be Queen, I must express benevolence to all of Westeros and be fair to my future subjects.” Lord Dominick’s face is crestfallen, even if he tries to hide it beneath his curls. He nods, murmuring an apology at his misstep. Her scowl is heavy on her face, but seeing him wilt like a parched flower has a sharp pinch in her heart dispelling her anger. Ysilla grasps at her fleeting animosity, but it is as if she’s trying to bottle the wind. 

“Who will be your match, my Lord? Mayhaps I will… indulge your whims if I am able to meet your challenger.” Ysilla grumbles, eyes narrowing as Dominick bursts back to life, smiling a grand grin. She has to learn how to be meaner.  

.

Aemond doesn’t give a shit about tourneys. 

They’re pointless occupations of time, flamboyant affairs to give those who attend them an excuse to drink to excess and gorge themselves until the point of spewing. Even worse, the dueling is a farce. Quarreling for show, competing for the accolades of people who Aemond doesn’t give two shits about. But in a time of peace, with no wars and no conflicts to satisfy the violent tendencies of men, today is a day of anticipation for most. Aemond pities the fools who look ready to collapse in excitement. It doesn’t stop him from entering into the contest though. 

He has been bristling with unnerved energy for weeks, snapping at squires and shouldering stableboys out of his path with no remorse. If he doesn’t fight, fuck, or feast sometime soon, he’ll drive himself mad with his own battling brain. Mud splattered, sweating like a hog, and muscles tuckered and spent, Aemond unlatches his helmet, satisfied with his wins. He tosses it to one of his bannermen, accepting the congratulatory cheers from his company with a not-quite-there smile. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he finds a curious image. A knight, capturing the attention of the royal sector of the stands, a curvaceous figure rising among the seated to entertain him. A woman, with flowing black hair, pops of color littered sparsely throughout the strands. 

Aemond yanks on the reins, the powerful beast beneath him so easy to control in contrast to Vhagar. He ignores the questions from his men as he trots towards his family, the refined features of his wife’s face becoming clearer as he approaches. 

Ysilla’s attention hones in on him, a flickering alarm being masked after it colors her eyes a shade darker. The trespasser turns around once his companion’s attention seems to shift.  

“Prince Aemond, congratulations on your victories today. I can only hope to do as well as you.” The younger man bows his head, showing respect that he obviously does not mean. If the crown in the hand that he angles away from Aemond is telling enough, it seems that this man was asking for a Lady’s Favor. And the budding amusement in Rhaenys’ expression shares that it certainly wasn't she who was asked. 

The Lord is but a boy in a too big coat, breastplate a tad ill fitting and gaping around his chest. Aemond will aim there and pray his lance severs the skin and that he’ll choke on his own blood as he lay dying. 

“No need for hoping, little lord. The journey from Highgarden must've been long. And to come all this way for the second Princess of Queen Rhaenyra?” Aemond’s eye cuts to Ysilla, who hangs on every word he utters. The fatigue flees his body, the thrill of a fray bubbling in his blood. “Who better to receive you, than I?” 

The swallow the Tyrell takes is audible, and Aemond flexes his grip on the reins. 

“But you have… have you not retired for the day?” The Rose's voice is three octaves higher than before and Aemond grins, urging his steed forward, pushing the boy further into the wall. Aemond’s towering stature blots him out of the sun, and even though she is not with him, he can feel Vhagar’s anticipation in his veins. Predator cornering prey.

“What kind of host would I be to not indulge my guests, and if you want to best the best, here I sit.” Aemond wishes to continue advancing, to squash him like the insect he is, but he retreats after a moment, letting the threat swimming in his words engulf the lord in fear.

The Rose peers back with wide eyes, lips bloodless and thin and Aemond can see the turmoil churning behind his stare. Aemond giddily hopes the boy will simply faint off his horse, and give the observing crowd a good laugh. A cap ‘n’ bells would pair nicely with his curly mane. 

Ysilla catches the crown tossed at her on instinct, eyes widening as she realizes that Dominick Tyrell has sealed his fate. He gives her a final embellished bow before riding to his corner, his men hastily rushing to prepare him. Ysilla worries a stem between her fingers, thumb catching on a thorn, the pain cutting clear through her headache. 

Aemond’s horse whinnies, stomping at the ground as if in anticipation for what’s to come. Ysilla looks to find her husband awaiting her attention, an intensity in his stare that makes her gulp. She wonders idly if House Tyrell has a particular funeral custom that they hold dear.    

“Enjoy the show, niece.”

.

.

.

Ysilla is panting, hands fluttering over her stomach, her waist, her chest, attempting to settle her racing heart. Her chambers are blessedly empty, Veda left behind at the tourney to assist her grandparents with Daenerys, her other maids off washing sheets or repairing the stitches on her gowns’ bust lines. 

The door bursts open behind her, and she is so absorbed in her own thoughts that the fright is lost on her.  

“What the fuck was that about, hmm?” Aemond is a furious frenzy, his gloves flying across the room, helmet clanging where it lands by the unlit hearth. Blood of not his own is splattered like paint over his face, white hair braided back for battle. His armor left a trail from the courtyard to the castle, and Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk had struggled to collect all of the metal pieces and keep pace with their fuming liege. 

“What, Aemond?” Ysilla questions, exasperation laced in her voice. Her beloved sneers, and it’s unfair that it does nothing to discount his exquisiteness. 

The men barrel down the track towards each other, as close to flying as Dominick will ever be but to Aemond, it feels slower than running. He takes advantage of the seconds as they tick by, angling himself further to the side, preparing to accept a blow that Aemond knows will come because this boy is fighting for love. No matter how childish and no matter how ill-suited, the eyes of a suitor are heavier than that of an entire city. The Dragon Prince knows the feeling well. The lances take aim, rising before impact as the men draw together.  

“Your tits, practically at your chin. No wonder he thought it appropriate to approach you.” Aemond knows the fucker wasn’t thinking at all. One look at Ysilla in that dress and Aemond had nearly swallowed his tongue and dropped his daughter. Upon finding her this morning, it took every ounce of self-control not to filet open her corset and take one of those bountiful breasts into his mouth. 

Ysilla wants to strike him. Her palm itches with the urge, ants biting across the grooves, making her dance with irritation. 

“Oh… fuck you for even saying that!” 

Ysilla tries to rush by Aemond, headed for anywhere not occupied by a one-eyed highborn whose life’s mission seems to be to drive her to madness. But his hand lashes out, shackling around her wrist and halting all attempts at an exit. 

“Do not walk away from me when I am speaking to you.”

Ysilla entertains the thought of spitting in his eye, but decides that might be a bit much. 

“You are not ‘speaking to me’, you are accusing me of seducing the Tyrell boy and for what? As if he does not look just as young as Luke, and as if I am not married to you!” She wrestles against his hold, desperate to get away from him. Aemond can tell, as he clutches even tighter to her. The bones in her wrist will surely throb tomorrow and a sick part of him hopes she bruises. Hopes that when Ysilla looks upon the purple shadows, that she’ll remember it was him who nearly cut a man in two for simply requesting her favor. 

“Is he even alive? Did you kill him over a silly tiara of roses or did you maim him just so that each time he looks in the mirror, he’ll never forget your face?” 

It’s a cowardly thing to say. A veiled callback to a childhood scuffle gone terribly wrong. Ysilla knows it but even as Aemond glares at her with the animosity of a foe rather than a spouse, she can’t bring herself to care. Because at least he is looking at her. 

“Do you even care to know?” Aemond’s grip had loosened with her previous questioning but Ysilla does not take her chance to flee. She stabs her pointer finger into his chest, the undershirt he dons translucent with exudation. “Does it even matter to you, that you may have squashed out a life over nothing more than a handmade headdress?”

Ysilla laughs, incredulous and edged, and the fury erupts in Aemond once more.

“You need to come down from that throne you’ve placed yourself on, dearest. Come down and face yourself- as if you didn’t like it. As if you didn’t enjoy it.”

Ysilla is shaking her head before he is even finished, a backwards step advanced on by quick feet. A cat chasing a mouse. 

“No-”

“Yes! You did. I saw it. Saw the way your breaths quickened, the way your gaze hung on every swing of my sword, the way you practically moaned when the herald pronounced me winner. I could practically smell your slick from there.” Her back meets the room divider, Aemond looming over her, Ysilla drowning in his shadow. She’s always smaller, swept up in his towering frame, but Gods, she never feels less than. 

“I can smell you now. You are mine, from here,” Aemond’s thumb sweeps over her heart, the spilling skin hot to the touch. “To here.” He cups her sex through her dress, pressing the heel of his palm into her. Ysilla’s breath skips in her throat. She’s aching, wetter than a river; has been since this morning, the glimpse of his naked chest enough to spark her fire. But even through the swirl of lust, her nose starts to sting with salt. 

“Then act like it!” Ysilla spits, furious at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She wants her rage, wants it to race through her veins and burn away this jealousy, this inadequacy that has been lingering for months. She doesn’t want the weakness that hides in the droplets. 

Aemond’s brow raises so high Ysilla thinks it may tangle in his hairline. He stills, sliding his hand from the front of her neck to the back, thumb starting soothing circles at the tense muscle he finds there. 

“Explain, Ysilla.”

His wife breaks their stare, blinking speedily, trying to dispel the pooling water. Aemond will not have it. They’re here, now, alone and he will not waste this opportunity. He sways closer, knocking his forehead at her temple, the scent of almond blossoms in her hair cloying, masking her natural perfume so heavily it makes his nose curl. He wants her as she is, has always wanted her that way. 

“Tell me, ñuha jorrāelagon. I can take it.” 

“You’ve been…” Ysilla’s voice wobbles; she’s crumbling like ancient stone. Her fury is being washed away by the clouds in her heart, flames extinguished by sorrowful rains. “So distant.” 

A dam cracks, hopeless sobs churning and tossing her words. “Why have you not spoken to me? Why do you seem so occupied with other matters? Why do I feel as if I were to try and clutch you closer, you would slip away from me like sands on a dune?” 

Each word is a lance to the heart, a dagger in his eye. He didn't intend to be cruel, maliciousness a thought never even crossing his mind. Ysilla had needed space, time, distance- he hadn’t been kind in his terror, in the moments when the horror of what so nearly transpired threatened to obliterate him. He wished to take it back, to comfort rather than chide, but words spoken cannot be unsaid, so he withdrew. Punished himself with desolation that he didn’t realize flogged two in place of one.  

But Ysilla is so different from him. He should’ve known; it is in the way they were raised. His mother loves him wholly, no secret he is the preferred child out of the three she bore. But even if he didn’t wish to, he recalls watching his eldest sister raise her brood as if it were the grandest present ever bestowed upon her. With a flourish of love that at no time seemed to run dry, and encouragements with no attached strings uttered in abundance. Ysilla was nursed on attention and comfort, where Aemond had to find a way to endure on the scraps he was tossed. 

For all his smarts, he could be a daft fucker. His brother would agree if anyone would listen to him. 

“Ysilla. Sweet girl, I am sorry. That was never my intention. You are the only one in my sight. You have been since the very moment I laid my eyes on you. You are the first thought I have upon waking, and the last name on my lips upon parting.”

Ysilla’s eyes crinkle at the corners, a coughing laugh aiding in easing the tension, her tears slowing as she blots them on the handkerchief her husband provided. Aemond hums softly, pleased with the sound. 

“Eye, don’t you mean, husband?” Ysilla doesn’t mean to poke fun, and she tenderly traces around her husband’s scar to assure him of her emotions. She wants his disguise off, can’t stand it when the patch mars his beauty. His malformation is just as much a part of him as his celestial locks, his mighty height, his ivory pallor. She wants him genuine and bare and naked- in all the ways that she loves.  

“No. I do not mean that. It’s always been you. With two eyes, with one eye… dragon, no dragon… from boyhood to now… Seven be damned, my intended place is wherever you take me.”

Ysilla knows it is not the rushing emotion that has made her lightheaded. Aemond could be a poet in another life, she is certain. The way he conveys his thoughts and feelings is enough to steal the very air from her lungs, or leave her doubled over and gasping for more.

“I…. burn for you, Ysilla.” The declaration rushes out of Aemond as if it pains him to keep it inside. Exertion plagues each word, his lungs shriveling as he vocalizes the yearning tearing him apart. 

“Do not let me go, Aemond. Please, please.” Ysilla drops her chin, sealing herself to her husband’s chest. 

Aemond chuckles wetly, fist winding through her curls and clutching her to him. He has to anchor himself down, and relish in the vigorous pluck of her heart beating along his breast. How wild that not quite an hour ago, he maimed a man who thought it wise to intrude on what is his. They would never know, the crowds the people the realm, how this one woman, this beauty with midnight hair, this dragon with amethyst eyes, this belle with a smile that the stars paled to, brought him to his knees in rapture. 

Does Ysilla not see? How holy she appears to him? Life bursting from her pores, radiating in the whites of her eyes and the gusts of her breath. He awakens still, even night after night of having her at his side, gasping and soaked in sweat, the memory of Daenerys’ birth flashing like lightning strikes in his mind. The only thing that settles him from slicing a blade across his throat in lunacy is when he catches the ever-steady lift and fall of her chest. 

Ysilla rises from her gloom, pillowy lips pecking at his chin, and then up to the corner of his mouth. The heat from her thumbs smears the once dry droplets of blood up the dips of his cheeks. Like oil on a canvas, she paints her dragon in shades of red, highlighting the sharp edges of his features, coloring him in with the splatters of his violence. 

She whines as their lips meet, shivering as their tongues brush, mapping familiar territory as if never before visited. 

Ysilla’s talons cut into his back. Aemond can feel the paper-thin fabric begin to give under her crazed clutch. He presses her further into the wooden divider, threatening to send them over as the furniture begins to teeter. Aemond dreads to part from her but he needs to ask her, needs to hear her voice command him to do exactly what she desires of him. He sucks blemishes up her jaw, lips leaving her at last to speak along her ear. 

“What beautiful, tell me what you need.”

Ysilla cries, attempting to rid him of his clothes without separating from him. 

“Need to ride you, need you as deep as I can take you.” 

They’re moving together before she finishes, mouths reconnecting so desperately their teeth clink. Ysilla’s shoulders shake in a smothered laugh, and Aemond smiles into her lips. 

Aemond sprawls on the side of the bed, Ysilla standing in between his spread knees. Even with him this low, he still only needs to raise his chin a tad to keep their lips locked. It never fails to spur Ysilla on, how absolutely tiny she feels when she smothers herself in his physique. They both go for their respective laces, Aemond making quick work of his breeches, his boots kicked off and banished under the bed. 

Ysilla tears away from him, growling as she does, lips puffy and breaths labored. Aemond goes to nibble at her neck but his wife takes a step back for good measure. Her fingers fly over the knots tying her in, concentration pinching in her brow. 

“I despise this fucking corset.” 

Aemond tsks a rebuttal, drinking in the vision she makes, stroking his weeping prick. 

“Mmmm, I might have to disagree. Motherhood becomes you, niece. The swell of your hips, the mount of your arse, the budding of your breasts.” Aemond chokes his cock, the head purpling with unquenched desire. “Truly a woman to die for.”

Even as Ysilla’s core clenches around nothing, Aemond’s sultry words nearly causing her to collapse, she keeps working at loosening her bindings. Her thighs rub together under her dress, the slide of her underclothes a tease more than a relief. 

Aemond’s impatience gets the better of him, going for the knife he keeps in the bedside drawer. Ysilla’s hand flies to his wrist, maternal reprimand present on her flushed face. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Ysilla warns, dropping a kiss to occupy him from ruining another piece of her wardrobe. With one last tearing pull, the torturous binder falls away, and Ysilla inhales so deeply she fears her ribs may crack apart. 

“Finallyyyy.” Aemond hisses, halting her relief as he drags her back to him. She’s out of her dressings before she can blink, her poor gown another victim of Aemond’s temper and her small clothes a companion to the tattered fabric pooling around her ankles. Ysilla thinks to scold him and she has half a mind to, before her thoughts go blank as her husband suckles her breast into his rapacious mouth. 

Aemond grasps her by her thighs, palms spanning the skin beneath her cheeks, rolling the flesh there with calloused hands. His mouth continues to work at unraveling her so soon, laving her nipple with his tongue before pulling at the bud with keen teeth. 

Ysilla winds her fingers through his hair, unplaiting the silver strands to free them around his face. The wisps tickle at the slope of her chest, Aemond trailing down to nip at the tender underside of her breast. She yanks him back with a gasp, squeezing at his jaw tightly to keep his gnashing teeth together. 

Aemond whimpers, the delectable sound something Ysilla wants to eat up like a sweet treat. He blushes at the vulnerability he let escape, but his pupil is blown out, betraying the longing he’s keeping inside. Even his sacred stone glows brighter, the sapphire seeming to pulse in time with the blood thickening his cock. 

“‘Sillaaaa,” Aemond whispers, trying to sway forward to bury his face in the valley between her breasts. Ysilla doesn’t allow him this divinity, controlling him with the grip under his chin. She’s winded, stroking the cut of his jaw before urging him backwards with a soft push. He listens, Gods willing, and she crawls after him, moving until he meets the pillows and reclines there in wait. 

Her knees mirror his hips, seating herself on his lap to make herself comfortable before she lines up his bobbing cock with her entrance. Ysilla takes him all down in one go, damn near creaming as his intrusion feels entirely natural but at the same time brand new. 

“Fucking hell, you feel so good. Always stretching me out until I think I’ll split in two.” Ysilla gasps, hand coming up to roll her tits in her palm. Aemond groans, the sound choking off as Ysilla’s other hand tightens around its new place at his throat. Her hips rock harder, dragging him in and out of her, a slick burn that makes her grit her teeth. Her cunt presses hard against Aemond’s pubic bone every time she careens forward and the pleasant sting she gets at the pressure pulls at her insides. 

It wouldn’t matter if he was even awake, Aemond thinks, watching through a low-lidded eye as his wife fucks herself on him. He is simply a toy, a tool for her pleasure. The thought should slight him, pinch at his pride but it just makes his cock jump harder, makes him plant his feet on the bed and spread himself further open for Ysilla to use. 

Her head rolls forward fluidly, mouth hanging open and spiraling locks askew. Her gaze is glazed, pouring heat and unflinching want over him. He looks delectable, veins straining at attention, poised and at the ready. Ysilla rolls forward faster, a breathy series of gasps escaping her, brows coming together in vulgar concentration. She needs to cum, her entire body teetering on desperation, wound up and tense for an endless amount of hours (of days, weeks, truthfully but who's counting?)

Need, need, need. Want, want, want. 

Aemond’s being so good for her, such a perfect Prince that it damn near sends Ysilla over the edge but Gods, it’s just not enough. She needs a bit more… a good push to finish her.

“You looked every bit a king out there today, my love.” Ysilla whispers, palms sliding warmly over Aemond’s pectorals, nails catching on his nipples so sharply that Aemond hisses and jerks his hips up. “You sliced through that Rose’s stem like he was nothing.”

Aemond bares his teeth, canines sharp and burnished. The grip he has on the pillow behind his head flexes. Ysilla smiles. 

“He is nothing. I made him into nothing. Thinking he could ask for your favor, that you would lower yourself to accept such a notion.” Aemond rocks up harder, Ysilla’s vision whiting out at the sharp jolt and her cunt clutching at him in commendation. 

Yessss, more, more. It’s the right direction, she’s nearly there. 

“I don’t know…” Ysilla sways back, the muscles in her thighs tightening as she reclines upon her husband as if he is the iron throne that the Seven Kingdoms bow towards. 

“He could’ve grown into quite a catch, before your handiwork. I could imagine what the ladies of the Court saw that interested them so.” Ysilla snickers meanly, dizzy with her husband’s closeness and the molten pleasure in her loins. The shadow that passes over Aemond’s face is lost to her bravado, and she’s pulled backwards before she can blink. Her scalps screams at the sting of Aemond’s fist rooted in her hair, the bones in her back creaking at the abrupt bend she’s forced in to. 

“Does that please you? That when you speak of another man while I am inside you, it makes me want to kill?” Aemond’s voice is cold but he is aflame, perspiration not even daring to slicken his brow. Ysilla can’t see him, and that stabs at her, but she feels the graze of his nose along the underside of her chin and shivers. 

“Who would’ve thought my fair niece would turn out to have such whorish tendencies.” He nips at her in punishment, the fine skin stinging in response. 

Ysilla claws at his arm, wanting to be freed. Wanting to push him back down and ride him until his eye rolls back, and her’s do too. But Aemond is unwavering and he yanks again with his fist, sending home the point to not test him further. Ysilla still wants to, but that is only because his lessons leave her so delightfully sated. 

“Is that what you are, Ysilla ? A whore for me to use?”

Ysilla gurgles under his grip, growing so wet it feels as if a wave has crested in her cunt. He pulls her further in a bend, her head nearly laid amongst the bed now. Aemond glares down at her with a deadly desire pulsing in his eye, and Ysilla spreads her thighs as wide as they go. His pupil flickers to her movement, her desperate rocking against his cock for even a spark of relief angers him. He sneers. 

“Use your words, little demon. Tell me what you are or I’ll fuck you until the sun sets and never let you break.” Aemond sees emotion pool in her eyes then, Ysilla’s lip wobbling and her chest heaving as she attempts to draw in calming breaths. He battles a smirk, fondness attempting to creep into his timbre and his hold, but he wars against it just as he had the Tyrell weasel. All in the name of his wife, would he slaughter a million men and then defile her in their sheets to make sure she knows who she belongs to. 

“I’m only for you. Forever been for you… my husband’s whore.” Ysilla chokes out, desperate tears dampening her hair as they tumble over her temples. Aemond can’t help himself and he doesn’t want to as he brushes his lips over both of her fluttering eyelids. A show of kindness before he unleashes the beast within.

“Then maybe I should treat you as such.”

Her world goes right side up as she’s flipped, Aemond’s fist unrolling once to ease the tightness of his hold but then he’s pushing her down into the bed, arm slinging around her hips and pulling her back end up against him. He guides himself back inside her, all sopping wetness with no resistance and husband and wife both inhale deeply at the joining. 

“Yes Aemonddd, harder.” Ysilla moans brokenly, face pressed firm into the sheets. 

“Any harder and I’ll fuck you through the bed.” Aemond rumbles a laugh, thumb stroking the slip of skin behind her ear. He feels better already, just mere minutes spent with his wife enough to soothe the sore from too long apart. They are one in the same- a grave mistake to not have them be joined like this each and every night. They’ve both been too high strung, too snappy and prickly. Fucking out their frustrations a habit they have neglected- Aemond will make sure it does not happen again. 

“So wanton, so desperate. What a pretty picture you make, wife.”  

Aemond is unseated and the gasp that tears from Ysilla’s dry throat is ragged. She propels herself forward in her chair and she thinks she would be up and over the ledge if her grandmother’s grip on her arm didn’t keep her in place. He’s on his feet at once, haste written in his every move. Dominick swings himself down from his perch, and the herald announces their battle. The crowd sounds their elation, and even a few of their family voice their support. Aemond draws his long sword out of its holster like a dragon unfurling it’s tail. One fluid motion and in the blink of an eye, steel meets with a metallic cling! and the two are locked in a dueling dance.  

“Unnnhh , fuck Aemond, yessss.” Ysilla is being loud, much too loud for a late afternoon summer day where people are milling about enjoying the tourney. The doors to their balcony are still propped open. She can hear the clopping of hooves against the dirt. 

Aemond snarls, thrusting faster into his pinned wife’s form. His cock slips easily in and out of her, her essence spreading between them and dripping down to the inside of her knees. She’s so open and willing for him, accepting him without a fight. Underneath him, joined as one, just as she should be. Right where she belongs. 

“Yessss, Ysilla, take it like a good bitch.” 

Ysilla wails, nails ripping into the sheets her head is burrowed into. Every thrust of Aemond pushes the air out of her lungs, makes her face burn hot and pleasure curl her toes. 

“Give me another, my love. Kostilus, ñuha dāria. Let me pump one more inside of you so I can fill you up every, single, night.” Aemond punctuates every word with a punishing thrust of his cock and Ysilla pants like a hound in heat. Her vision blurs with tears, wet gasps pulling in her throat. Her naked chest is completely flush with the linen, back arched like a bow, every nerve pulled taut as she’s curved herself to accept her husband’s onslaught. 

This is what Ysilla craves, when her duties as a mother, a wife, a successor grow too heavy. To be held down and made to take, take, take it until her mind goes foggy and the one thing that matters most is the pleasure scorching through her. 

“Ae-mond, please, fuck, I can’t take it.” 

“Liar. Yes you can. And you will. Just for me.” 

She’s too full like this, cunt stuffed but Aemond is still trying to be impossibly deeper in her. His cock has never not made her ache the morning after a midnight escapade, but she feels as if he is coming up her throat. Trying to prove the point that he will be the only man to make her feel this delirium.  

“Gods, Aemond, don't stop!” 

“‘Don’t stop’, ‘I can’t take it’. Which is it, little one?” Aemond’s voice is mocking and the demeaning chuckle he releases into her ear makes Ysilla shy away, face burning and burrowed in the bed. 

Muffled words mumbled into her elbow has Aemond slowing (but not stilling- he can’t, he’d go mad if he stopped fucking her) and sliding his palm under her jaw and around her throat. He forces Ysilla’s head up, the tips of his forefinger and thumb digging into her cheeks. 

“What was that, sweetling? I didn’t quite catch that.” Aemond can’t help himself from bringing her face up to his mouth, licking a hot stripe from neck to temple and then trailing the tip of his angular nose from her ear down her jaw. He’s missed her terribly. 

Ysilla groans, needy and petulant, but there’s a rumble hidden in the sound. A growl of contempt, a warning to not poke her when she’s still sore from their earlier fight. 

“I said, you prick,” the power in Ysilla’s voice is dampened by the domineering grip pressing to her airway. “Make me take it until I can’t, kepus.” 

She rolls her hips back against him, and Aemond laughs darkly. She is such a perfect partner for him, a truly amazing mother to their girl. He can’t wait to do this forever. 

“As you wish, pretty thing.” Aemond braces one foot on the bed, nails digging into the supple flesh of her arse. The arch of her is so good, making her open and ready to be used. He can’t help but recall that this same position was what seeded Daenerys in Ysilla’s womb. With how deep he is, it is no wonder that his spend took root. 

Ysilla’s hips stutter, her walls squeezing around her husband’s hung cock as the splitting slide of him becomes too much to take. She breaks apart, screaming obscene praises for all to hear, every nerve in her cunt singing as Aemond refuses to falter in his stride. 

He moves somehow harsher, deeper, spurred on by her undoing. The headboard knocks thunderously at the stone, the frame squeaking in protest at the pace the duo have set. Aemond grips the edge of the bed with a frantic vigor, blanketing over Ysilla, coating her in his sweat as he pummels her cunt. Ysilla’s hand shoots back, colliding with his belly, and Aemond can’t figure if she’s pleading with him to relent or spurring him on for more. 

“Jaes, Ysilla, cum for me again. Let me take it all.” Aemond mouths at her shoulder, teeth sinking deep just to give him something to anchor to. If she had the ability to form words, the most carnal of curses would pour from her, shouted or whispered, she isn’t sure. 

“Lord Dominick Tyrell has conceded! Prince Aemond has won the duel!” The herald’s bellow falls silent from the crowd’s roar, the screams sound monstrous, sadistically hungry for more. Aemond is shocked that an overwhelming part of him aims to appease them, twist his greatsword about and cleave the boy’s head into twin pieces. Hungry he is too, but his hankering for blood falls second to another. He strides in the direction of the royal seats, steady and straight towards the figure waiting there.  

Ysilla tosses the wreath once he is close enough, watching through hooded eyes as it seems to float down on the wind. Time slows in its ticking, the crowd quieting to lower than a whisper and fading from sight as she watches Aemond. He catches it, the crown careening into his fist as if it was secured there with a thread. He crunches the wreath without hesitation, the petals plummeting from their bloom only to be muddled to nothingness under his boots. They hold each other’s gazes, for how long neither of them know. Ysilla spins suddenly, stalling to say something to the Sea Snake and the Queen Who Never Was, before she disappears from his sight.  

Aemond goes for the tunnels at once, the cheers and praises unimportant and unneeded. He passes his men, their hoots and howls sidelined, shedding his armor as he heads for the castle. 

Aemond doesn’t stop thrusting, not even after Ysilla has shattered for the fourth time, not even after he himself releases inside her after what must be a lifetime. He carries on, sliding through the mess they’ve made of each other, being propelled on by the passion that never seems to cease when it comes to his beloved.

.

.

.

Otto Hightower glares at the door as if it has personally affronted him. 

The lewd hollerings of the Prince and Princess cannot be contained behind the wood, slipping underneath the door like smoke and coming up to curl around his ears. The guards mirror each other in face and stance, breathing gargoyles holding vigil at behest of their future King. 

Otto sniffs, spinning on his heel and stalking down the hall when a figure rounds the bend in front of him. 

“Cole, finally, an ear that can be lended. My daughter seems to evade me at every step, I have not spoken anything besides pleasantries with her in nearly half a year. And forget speaking to my second grandson, as he seems to be endlessly occupied with his marital duties.”  

The knight winces at the moans and groans echoing in the hallway, his spine stiffening as he realizes who resides in this corridor of the Red Keep. He was simply wasting away the day, patrolling the barren halls of the castle while most were occupied with the celebrations outside, when he strayed too far from his customary route. 

Otto starts down the hall, leading away from the perverse sounds and Criston only follows him in order to pay some privacy to the… exuberant couple enjoying their time together. The old lord casts one final abhorred glare towards the royal apartments, before addressing the quiet man beside him. 

“You and I need to talk.”

“You and I need to talk.” 

Rhaenyra’s brow came up to arch in a question, not deigning a spoken response.  

“About what exactly?” She refused to cross her arms, attitude tampered down by highborn grace.  

The hate laced in Criston’s gaze never failed to steal a bit of her breath. Once, a very long time ago, love and adoration had been there, had turned those simple brown eyes rich and stunning. To be looked at like that made a young girl’s heart soar higher than any dragon and a taste of that was hard to forget.  

“You know what.” Criston took a step into her chambers but Rhaenyra refused to budge. Not in this house, not in her house would she tolerate that fucking disrespect. She didn’t have to take any more of those contempt filled looks, the snide comments he whispered to Alicent all those years spent in King's Landing. He could eat fucking Dragonglass and enjoy it for all she cared. 

Rhaenyra set her shoulders, chin high and gaze bitter. Criston clenched his jaw, staring hard through her with a revulsion that would topple a lesser woman.  

“I don’t think you wish to have this conversation in public, my Queen.” 

Bitch. Whore. Monster. Rhaenyra hears them all, hidden behind her title.  

“What. Conversation?” Gritted teeth are hard to get words through but she does so all the same. Her patience was thin and he was keeping her from her grandchild- her granddaughter.  

Criston blinked at her, an unhappy grin that showed all of his teeth pulling at his features horridly.  

“About Ysilla… Rhaenyra.” He leaned closer. She could feel the coolness of his breastplate through her corset. She stomped down a shiver.  

“About how I just helped that girl deliver her child, and all I could think of was what my mother looked like when she was birthing my sister. That the way her face scrunched in pain nearly unseated me, because it was like a memory pulled straight from my head.” Criston breathed out harshly, tremors causing his hands to shake in their leather confines.  

“Because that is my face, on her face.”  

Rhaenyra flinched as if he’d slapped her. She almost wished he had, so she could form a plausible excuse to tell her husband, and have the knight’s head separated from his body. So she wouldn’t have to have this conversation- one she’s never counted on having.  

“I…”  

She thought to lie, to call him foolish and imaginative. To sneer and scoff and dismiss. To push past him with her granddaughter in her arms and shower her with love, and then find Ysilla and do the same. But the time had finally come, the dreaded day that’s waited for her like a hung blade, coming loose to swoop down and dice apart her well-crafted life. Her tongue was thick in her mouth, words failing to come to her aid. The young queen angled herself off to the side, and pulled the door open far enough to give the two a wide berth.  

Criston hesitated, fearful that she would attempt to slam it in his face and bust his nose wide but she kept still, fingernails gripping the grain for dear life.  

He hurried in, his bloodied cloak bundled on the sheets capturing his attention immediately. He was at the foot of the bed without thought, pulling the wrap tighter around the babe. This dastardly stone dungeon was as drafty as a cliff side: the fire in the hearth had barely started to kindle and he could feel the chill through his garb.  

The blood was tacky upon her cheeks, turning a dusky burgundy that threw off her bronzed skin. Criston wasn’t able to catch the true color of her eyes on the beach, but with her lids closed and lashes fanned out, it was easy to conjure up the image of oak brown irises. The ones he’s seen in his own reflection.  

“Tell me that I am mad. That my mind has spun an impossible thought. That it must’ve been a trick of the moon’s light. That you haven’t… that she isn’t…” Criston sounded near pleading and Rhaenyra felt ill. He stared at Daenerys like she was a snake poised to strike, but too, as if she were a cool oasis in an endless desert. A warring heart, trapped in a man of hate.   

She had to force herself to breathe.  

“Ysilla’s name is Dornish.” 

One beat of her heart, two, three.  

“I wanted her to know one piece of you. Even if it wasn't your name, even if it wasn’t your face… it felt like I owed you…” Rhaenyra swallowed past her tongue. “It felt like I owed you at least that.”   

Criston’s breath whooshed out of him like the wind out of a sail, knees buckling as he collapsed into the chair in front of the fireplace. 

“Gods above…”  

Years flashed in his mind, dates tallying themselves as he did the math. “Then you were- that means-” 

Rhaenyra’s nod drew him into silence, the weight of her agreeance crashing down upon him like thunder.  

“I was already with her at mine and Laenor’s wedding. I started to swell before Daemon and Laena were wed.”  

A bee’s buzz could’ve knocked him over. “He knew? Laenor?” 

“He did. It took some convincing on my part; Joffrey’s death still so fresh for him when my moonblood stopped coming. He didn’t want any part of you in our life but the moment he laid eyes on Ysilla… he did it for me and he did it for her . ” Rhaenyra swallowed hard, jaw tightening in an old ache, long ago sent off to Pentos. “He was a good man.” 

Criston stared at her. It dawned on Rhaenyra that this was the first time they had been alone, truly alone together, since the night of Ysilla’s conception.  

“Does she… does she know that I’m her…” Criston trailed off, brows coming together, trying to think back on his and Ysilla’s meetings. If there was any small thing he was too daft to pick up on.  

“No, she doesn’t know. There’s always been doubts, I can see it in her eyes. We’ve never discussed it. I’ve been too much of a coward to do so. So I’ve left it to her.” Rhaenyra’s candor spilled from her before she could stop it, and she winced. She advanced on wobbly legs, reaching for Daenerys, plucking at the stubborn sand caked on a drying blood patch on the cloak. The grit of it rolled under her nails, thick and pasty.  

It was odd, to voice something that had been trapped in her heart for nearly twenty years. A simultaneous sense of freedom, of lightness wholly overshadowed by the wrongness of the timing.  

Criston’s stare turned cold, an all-too familiar look Rhaenyra knew, and she braced for the freeze.  

“I deserved to know.”  

Rhaenyra scoffed; as if it were so simple.  

“She deserved a father! This isn’t about you or me, Criston, it was about the little girl who was born into this world an heir to a heavy crown. Born into a family not seeing eye-to-eye. Born to a man that would rather spit in my direction than bow to it.”  

Criston didn’t flinch but the righteous rage dimmed in his eyes.   

“In a different world… mayhaps I would’ve gone with you. Taken you up on your offer and sailed to Essos, ran away from all of these duties and obligations. A little girl that smelled of oranges and sea salt and cinnamon clinging to our sides, and growing up with a spirit of a wanderer.” Rhaenyra tucked Daenerys tightly in her arms, bringing her close to her chest, tears that she would never let fall brushing at her lashes. Rhaena would return any moment and this conversation would stay between grandparents, granddaughter, and the four walls of this room.  

“But I didn’t. I chose a different path. One I do not regret, not even an ounce. And what I do not regret most of all, is raising Ysilla with all the love that my heart had to give her. Which was enough for both me and you. That is something I’ll never apologize for, Criston.” Rhaenyra turned swiftly, exiting through the door, and pulling it shut behind her. The sudden silence threatened to deafen the knight.  

Criston sat and thought. He sat until the morrow’s sun burst hot and bright through the window’s glass, until the seagulls squawked at their day’s catch, until every droplet of blood left behind from his daughter stood apart from his clothes like the day against the night.  

Criston slid his gloves off, gripped them so tight that the leather squeaked, before tossing them into the fire.  

“Cole, Gods, are you even listening to me?” Otto hisses. Criston blinks away the past, gaze fixing on the fuming older man. They’ve come to a halt, far enough away from the twin sers that neither man can catch note of another lecherous noise. He finds that he has to fight a sneer of irritation from furling his lip, a foreign response that doesn’t feel as unwelcome as he feared it would.

“That girl has bewitched my grandson. Aemond was once the epitome of a ruler and now he is but a lapdog, playing puppy to every wicked whim she casts upon him. The Small Council has been picked apart and replaced, all of our allies scattered to the wind. And with Alicent seemingly back under Rhaenyra’s wing, I fear that it is only you and I left to protect the realm. Ysilla will be the end of House Targaryen. I can sense it. I know it to be true.” Otto waxes on, so engrossed with the sound of his own voice that he misses entirely the dimming civility in Criston’s expression. The animosity in his posturing, the squaring of his shoulders. The knit of his mouth as he voices his rebuttal. 

“The end of House Hightower, I assume you to mean.”

Otto stops short, twitching his head to the side in the beginnings of bewilderment.

“Pardon?”

“Well, it is not only Ysilla that represents House Targaryen, but her daughter now as well. And from the sounds of things in that room,” Criston fights off a cringe, shoving away the unwelcome pictures that evoke in his mind. “Daenerys will not be the only one in line after her mother. And if not them, then Jacerys, then Lucerys, then Joffrey, then any one of Rhaenyra’s children will hold steady over the Realm. It will never be Aegon, it will never be Aemond.” Criston pauses, readying the nail in the coffin, boring his eyes into that of a man whose lust for power would never be quenched. 

“It will never be you, Otto. It will never be anyone but Ysilla and then her daughter to wear the crown, unless something is to happen. And nothing, will happen to them, as I stand here breathing.” 

Otto appears as if he might blow away in the wind, and Criston wishes it were that easy, but he is no fool. Not anymore.

“You have gone mad, Cole. Once and for all, you have at last gone mad and fed yourself to the Dragons.” The disgust in Otto’s delivery cannot mask the trembling of his tone. 

“Those words are treasonous utterings best kept silenced… my Lord. Do well to remember that before you open your mouth again, or I do fear whatever you may voice could find its way to the Queen’s ear.” Criston feels dizzy, elation and terror warring in his head as he brushes past the former Hand of the King. Everything he has known and abided by for the last eighteen years is abandoned, burned and buried with the final words of his speech still reverberating in his skull. A part of him mourns, regret attempting to find a chink in his armor. 

But even so, with the crushing weight of his own duty upon his shoulders, not just to the crown now, but to that of a girl who has gained an eternal guardian in her corner, he keeps walking. He puts one foot in front of the other, and keeps his stride. Away from his mistakes and on to nobler intentions. 

.

.

.

“We’re missing the feast.” Ysilla hums, strewn across Aemond as if she were a weighted fur. Every inch of them is pressed together, not an item of clothing in sight, skin against skin and breaths in tandem. Aemond caresses the dip of her back with lazy fingers, tickling the dewiness left behind from their coupling. 

“My hunger has been sated, ābrazȳrys. And if any cravings shall arise,” Aemond brushes his knuckles along the rise of her cheekbone. Ysilla gazes back upon him with unbridled adoration. He never would have thought a heart could threaten to burst as often as his, and continue to beat just the same. 

“I shall simply spread your thighs and eat until I am full again.” 

Ysilla smirks, gaze hooded and dark, mouth finding his for a short, albeit fevered kiss. If she didn’t love to look at him, her ear would find the rise of his chest and rest there, let the thunderous thrum lure her to sleep. But to turn away now would feel like parting too soon, so in place, Ysilla drops her chin along the tail end of his sternum and tucks her breasts along his stomach. Aemond sends his knees farther apart, fingers lacing together behind his head to keep him upright and mooning over his woman. 

“We’ll be alright, you and me. Us three.” Ysilla whispers it like a secret, her nails tracing phantom lines over the ridges of Aemond’s torso. The tone of her voice is strong and unwavering, even if it is spoken softly. But all the same, a sliver of uncertainty worms its way between the letters. Aemond is silent, letting the ambient sounds of the festivities fill the space instead of his response, and Ysilla’s heart twinges coldly before dual hands cradle her face. Ysilla aims misty eyes at her husband, tongue tucked tight behind her teeth in worry.  

“We’ll be better than alright. You and I… our daughter… we will live this life together in such a way that our love will be undeniable. We are the beginning of the next era in our house’s dynasty and there will be no uncertainty from the lineage we will spawn. And when it comes our time to rule, we will do so with the strength and sovereignty passed down from those before us, and after, our daughter will rule like no other before her. I promise this, ñuha prūmia. In this, I will never fail you.”

The lump in Ysilla’s throat is larger than that of a peach pit but yet sweeter, and the exhilaration that ripples from her full heart feels like the greeting of an old friend. 

“Aemond the Beautiful Bard.” Ysilla laments, the sentiment teeming with affection.

“Ysilla the Dragon Tamer.” Aemond declares, restless spirit slowing with serenity.  

“Daenerys the Cherished.” The parents manifest, their future endless in its prosperity and remarkable in its unity. 

.

ñuha jorrāelagon 

my love

Kostilus ñuha dāria 

Please, my Queen

kepus 

uncle

Jaes 

Gods

ābrazȳrys 

wife

ñuha prūmia 

my heart

[bethanythebogwitch]

Digimon & mythology: the Warrior 10 and spirits

In the genesis of the Digital World there was the Warrior 10, a group of mighty Digimon who each represented one of ten elemental attributes. When Lucemon rebelled against God, the Warrior 10 fought him. In the end, they managed to seal away Lucemon at the cost of their own lives. While the Warrior 10 are long since dead, they passed their data and abilities down to the many Digimon types. In addition, each member left behind two spirits who can be taken up by others to become special Digimon.

Designed for the anime Digimon Frontier, the Warrior 10 and their spirit descendants go outside of the normal evolution methods. For each element there is two spirits: human and beast. The holder of the spirits can switch between human and beast forms. In addition, the holder can merge the two into a fusion form. All spirit Digimon are given the special level of hybrid, but in general human spirits are equivalent to the Adult/Champion-level, beast spirits to Perfect/Ultimate-level, and fusion spirits to Ultimate/Mega-level. In other media outside of Frontier, the spirits have been treated as normal Digimon. In addition, the spirits of fire and light can fuse with other spirits to take on a transcendent form. In the anime, only the holders of the fire and light spirits got to reach their fusion forms but the other heroic spirits (darkness, ice, thunder, and wind) from Frontier have been given their fusion forms in other media. The villainous spirits (water, earth, wood, and metal) have only been given their human and beast forms, which is a big missed opportunity. To fit with being the descendants of legendary heroes, the spirit Digimon have a lot of mythological themes in their names. A lot of these were changed in the English translation to avoid religious references. The concept of different elements that make up the world can be found in many cultures, including the classical elements originating in Greece (earth, air, fire, and water), the Chinese Wuxing (fire, water, wood, metal, and earth), and Hindu Pancha Bhuta (earth, air, fire, water, and akasha, which can be translated as sky, space, or ether).

The Warrior 10 member representing fire is AncientGreymon and it passed its abilities down to dragon Digimon. No real mythological references with it so we move onto the human spirit of fire: Agnimon. Agnimon is a flaming martial artist that hones its mind and controls its temper with yoga. Its name comes from Agni, the Hindu god of fire. In the Vedas, Agni brought light into the universe and frequently acted as the intermediary between humans and the gods, making him one of the most important deities. While later texts downplayed his importance somewhat, he is still a major deity and is invoked in many ceremonies and traditions. He also carried over into Buddhism and Jainism. Agnimon doing yoga is another reference to India. The beast spirit is Vritramon (eng: BurningGreymon), a ferocious dragon born from data produced by scientists researching volcanoes. Vritramon's name comes from Vritra, an asura (demon or evil demigod) who personified drought and was the archenemy of Indra, the king of the Hindu gods and god of the sky and weather. In the Hindu text Rig Veda, Vritra blocked all the rivers in the world to horde all the water and force the people to suffer. Indra then fought Vritra and eventually slew him, releasing the water and ending the drought. In one version of the story, Agni was originally on Vritra's side before being convinced to side with Indra, which may be why their Digimon versions are linked. While most early depictions of Vritra had him as a humanoid, some later adaptations made him into a dragon. The fusion of the spirits of fire is Aldamon, who combines the intelligence of Agnimon and bestial power of Vritramon. Its name comes from Ardhanarishvara (Japanese doesn't have the "L" sound and uses the "R" sound instead, which is how "ardha" becomes "alda"), which is a fusion of the Hindu god Shive and his consort Parvati. Usually depicted as male on the right and female on the side and represents a fusion of the masculine and feminine powers of creation and how the feminine and masculine principles of the divine are inseparable. While Ardhanarishvara is a fusion of male and female, Aldamon represnets the fusion of human intellect and bestial power. Aldamon's attacks are maned Brahmastra and Brahmashira, legendary weapons from Hindu mythology. The transcendent form of the spirit of fire is KaiserGreymon (eng: EmperorGreymon) and it doesn't have any real mythological references other than harnessing ley lines, a concept found in new age pseudoscience.

(left to right: AncientGreymon, Agnimon, Vritramon, Aldamon, KaiserGreymon). I have to compile images to stay under the limit

The Warrior 10 member representing light is AncientGarurumon, which passed its abilities down to beast Digimon. Once again, no mythological references so we'll move onto the human spirit. Wolfmon (eng: Lobomon) is a warrior empowered by a righteous spirit that contains a holy light. It doesn't have any real mythological references but its attack names are in German and the rest of the spirits do have a germanic and norse theme. Missed oppurtuinity to reference the faoladh, benevolent Irish werewoves, tbh. The beast spirit of light is Garmmon (english: KendoGarurumon), an extremely fast beast that hunts evil. It will never obey an evil creature, but will devote itself to a master with all its heart. Garmmon's name comes from Garmr or Garm, a wolf found in Norse mythology. It is described as a guardian of the gates of the bad afterlife Hel, giving it a similar role to the Greek Cerberus. Garmr is trapped by a chain in a cave called Gnipahellir and in the Porse Edda, will escape during Ragnarok where he and the god Tyr will fight and kill each other. Garmr is very similar to the more famous Fenrir and the two may be different cultural variations of the same legend. The fusion of the light spirits is Beowolfmon, a fighter who cooly measures up its enemy with human-like intelligence and tries to remain level-headed in combat. Its name comes from Beowulf, the hero of the germanic epic of the same name. In the epic, Beowulf slays the monster Grendel and then its mother and became king before dying in the process of slaying a dragon. The transcendent form of the light spirits is MagnaGarurumon, which again doesn't have any mythological references.

(left to right: AncientGarurumon, Wolfmon, Garmmon, Beowolfmon, and MagnaGarurumon)

Where there is light, there is darkness and the Warrior 10 member representing darkness is AncientSphinxmon, which passed its abilities down to mythical beast and demon beast Digimon. It is based on the great sphinx of Egypt. The Egyptian version of the sphinx was seen as a protector and was often associated with Ra, god of the sun. A bit ironic for the Digimon of darkness to be associated with a sun god. The spirits of darkness are unique in that there are two versions of each one, a corrupted and purified version. Also, I like that Digimon made the warrior of light a dog and the warrior of darkness a cat. The corrupted human spirit of darkness is Duskmon. It was born from the regrets of extinct Digimon species and exists to oppose holy Digimon. Duskmon doesn't have any real mythological references, but the corrupted beast spirit, Velgrmon, does. Velgrmon is a being of hatred as the proud Duskmon hates transforming into its ugly beast form. Velgrmon's name comes from Hræsvelgr, a gigantic eagle from Norse mythology that creates wind when it flaps its wings. The purified human spirit of darkness is Löwemon. It operates from within the darkness, but is not evil and instead hunts evil from the shadows. Löwemon wears a ring called Neeblinge, which comes from Der Rings des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung), an epic music drama by Richard Wagner. In the story, various gods, monsters, and humans battle to obtain the title ring, that will grant dominion over all. The story is named after and partially based on the germanic epic poem Nibelungenlied. The purified beast spirit of darkness is KaiserLeomon (eng: JagerLöwemon, whos unique armor lets it be incredibly fast and sharp enough to cut apart whatever it runs through. No mythological references here, it just furthers the visual connection to sphinxes. Similarly, there is no real mythological connection in the fusion form Raihimon (eng: Rihihimon). Its a humanoid sphinx that is so skilled at stealth that few realize it even exists. The name "Raihi" is a corruption of the German "Reich", meaning "empire".

(left to right: AncientSphinxmon, Duskmon, Velgrmon, Löwemon, KaiserLeomon, Raihimon)

The Warrior of ice is AncientMegatheriummon, which passed its abilities down to mammal and icy snow Digimon. While it is not based on a myth, the megatherium is an extinct giant ground sloth. The human spirit of ice is Chackmon (eng: Kumamon). Its a cute tedy bear made of snow that carries military gear and claims to be part of an arctic defense force. No myths here so we go to the beast spirit of ice: Blizzarmon. Blizzarmon (eng: Korikakumon) is a ruffian with a love of battle that offers prayers to an ice god. There's no obvious mythological references other that it maybe being based on a yeti. The yeti is a mythical being said to live on the Himalayan mountains. It is supposed to be hairy and is associated with ice and snow at least. Weirdly enough, Blizzarmon's axes are named in the Igbo language of Nigeria, which is not a place known for snow. The fusion of ice is Daipenmon which not only has no connection to myths, it has no real connection to its prior forms. Not sure how two snowy mammals merge to become a mechanical ice shaver penguin dual-wielding popsicles.

(left to right,: AnceintMegatheriummon, Chackmon, Blizzarmon, Daipenmon)

The Warrior of thunder is AncientBeatmon (eng: AncientBeetlemon), which passed its powers down to insect Digimon. Digimon associates insects with electricity a lot. The human spirit of thunder is Blitzmon (eng: Beetlemon), a mechanical yet highly emotional electric wrestler with a heart of gold. Blitzmon is not based on mythology, but it is one of many references Digimon makes to the Japanese franchise Kamen Rider, which features a lot of martial artists wearing bug-themed costumes. The beast spirit of thunder, Bolgmon (eng: MetalKabuterimon) sacrifices mobility for incredible firepower as it turns itself into a tank. Its name comes from Firbolg, a mythical tribe of people who inhabited Ireland in the story collection Lebor Gabála Érenn. I found a few sources associating the name Firbolg with a thunder god, though as far as I can tell this appears to be a misconception. Bolgmon's profile also references scarabs, which were used in ancient Egypt that were used as seals and symbols of the sun due to an association with the god Kephri. The fusion spirit is RhinoKabuterimon. It's just an electric rhinoceros beetle. Nothing mythical about that. You may have noticed that the fire and light spirits have tons of references and the other spirits have a lot less. That comes down to the writing of Frontier where if you weren't the human holders of the fire and light spirits, the writers did not care about you and occasionally seemed to resent having you in the show to the point they turn you into a power-up for the heroes. The lack of interest in the other spirits and their holders is my biggest gripe with Frontier.

(left to right: AncientBeatmon, Blitzmon, Bolgmon, RhinoKabuterimon)

TheWarrior of wind is AncientIrismon (eng: AncientKazemon), who passed down its abilities to bird man and fairy Digimon. Iris is a minor Greek goddess who personified the rainbow and usually acted as a servant for other gods. The human spirit of wind is Fairimon (eng: Kazemon), a good-hearted gossip with the power to manipulate the atmosphere. Fairimon is based on modern interpretations of fairies. Fairies are found throughout European folklore, but are most famously associated with Ireland. The myths about them are highly diverse and they can range from benevolent to malevolent to having a completely alien sense of morality. More modern depictions of fairies often simplify them to small humans with insect wings and make them cute and friendly. This is the version that Fairimon is based on. Fairimon is also based on kamaitaichi, a form of yokai from Japanese folklore. They are associated with wind and dust devils and often look like weasels. The story about them says that they (often working in groups of three) will use sickles to cut people and then heal them so fast that the person will feel the pain of being cut but see no wound. One hypothesis to explain the origin of the stories was that minute vacuums in the air would make people feel pain with no wound. Fairimon is stated to be able to use is power over air to cause these vacuums. The beast spirit Shutumon (eng: Zephyrmon) is a mischevious trickster with the power to cast Mesopotamian spells. It is based on Shutu, a minor Mesopotamian god or goddess of wind. Design-wise, it also takes after two other Mesopotamian creatures. Lamashtu is a she-demon that appears as a fusion of human and various animals (fitting for a beast spirit) while Lilith was a demon (or class of demon) associated with women and birds. The fusion spirit is JetSilphymon, who can fly so fast it can't be seen and unleash hurricanes from its giant pinwheel. In the writings of the Swiss philosopher Paracelsus, Sylphs are elemental spirits of air.

(left to right: AncientIrismon, Fairimon, Shutumon, JetSilphymon

The Warrior of earth was AncientVolcamon (eng: AncientVolcanomon), which passed its powers down to ore and mineral Digimon. The human spirit of earth is Grottemon (eng: Grumblemon), a temperamental artisan who can summon hammers from the ground. Grottemon is based on European folklore of gnomes and dwarves, diminutive people who lived underground and were typically great craftsmen. The gnome was also used by Paracelsus as an earth elemental and Grottemon's design is based on garden gnomes and their pointy hats. The beast spirit of earth is Gigasmon, a gigantic and violent beast with earthen skin baked into armor. Gigasmon is visually based on some sort of troll or ogre, but thats the closest it gets to a myth.

(left to right: AncientVolcamon, Grottemon, Gigasmon)

The Warrior of wood is AncientTroiamon, who passed down its abilities to plant Digimon. It is based on the Trojan horse from the Odyssey and Aeneid. The story goes that during the Trojan war, the Greek forces could not breach the walls of Troy. Odysseus had the Greeks feign retreat and leave behind a giant wooden horse as an offering to the goddess Athena. The Trojans brought the horse into the city as a trophy and that night, a force of men hidden in the horse came out and opened the city's gates, allowing the Greek army to invade the city. The human spirit of wood is Arbormon, a seemingly emotionless puppet that is actually keenly aware of its surroundings. Arbormon is based on a karakuri doll, mechanized Japanese puppets that were able to move on their own. The beast spirit of wood is Petaldramon, a giant and hungry plant dragon.

(left to right: AncientTroiamon, Arbormon, Petaldramon)

The Warrior of water is AncientMermaimon, who passed its abilities down to aquatic Digimon. AncientMermaimon is based on mermaids. Human-fish hybrids has appeared in virtually every culture that lived around water, though AncientMermaimon is based on the common European image of a mermaids. It holding a trident and having power over water is similar to the Greek sea god Poseidon. The human spirit of water is Ranamon, whose mood is as changeable and temperamental as the sea. Ranamon is also based on fish/human hybrids, though is more humanlike than most mermaids. Its name comes from the Spanish ford for frog, "rana", which is why it's dumb that more recent English translations like the card game keep trying to change it to Lanamon. The Japanese L/R confusion strikes again. The beast spirit of water is Calamaramon, a witch who excels at offense and defense. It is based on more monstrous versions of the human/fish hybrid.

(left to right: AncientMermaimon, Ranamon, Calamaramon)

The Warrior of steel is AncientWisemon, who passed its abilities down to mutant Digimon. It is all-knowing due to having access to the Akhasic Records, a spiritual compendium of all knowledge found in Theosphy and new-age spiritualism. The human spirit of steel is Mercuremon (eng: Mercurymon), a genius tactician and philosopher. The beast spirit of steel is Sephirothmon (eng: Sakkakumon), a bizarre being that possess the power of all 10 elements. Sephirothmon is based on the Sefirot tree of Kabbalah, a school of Jewish mysticism that attempted to explore the relationship between the eternal, unchanging god Ein Sof and the finite mortal world. Kabbalah is an extremely complex subject that I can't do justice with the short amount of research I'm doing for this post. The Sefirot tree, which Sephirothmon takes the shape of, is a concept in Kabbalah intended to illustrate the 10 methods or emanations of God's work in the material world. Each emanation also may represent a metaphysical world that people can pass through as they try to understand God. While the 10 spheres of the Sefirot tree each represent one of the emanations and their relationship to each other, the 10 spheres of Sephirothmon's body each represent one of the 10 elements that make up the Digital World and presumable how they and their associated Warrior 10 member relate to each other. The Sefirot tree is also supposed to help one gain wisdom and they further understand God and AncientWisemon and the steel spirits are associated with knowledge and wisdom.

When the power of all of the spirits come together, they become Susanoomon, a god who presides over destruction and regeneration. When the Digital World descends into chaos, Susanoomon will appear and destroy it so that a new one can take its place. Susanoomon carries a weapon called ZERO-ARMS: Orochi. Susanoo is the Shinto god of storms and wind that has been portrayed as both a hero that slays monsters and a wild and dangerous god of storms. This with with Susanoomon representing both destruction and regeneration. The most famous story involving Susanoo says that he was banished from the heavens after his bad behavior terrfied his sister, the sun goddess Amaterasu. Now on Earth, Susanoo encountered an old couple who told him of a mighty, eight-headed snake named Yamato-no-Orochi who had devoured seven of their daughters and would be coming back for the eighth and final one soon. Susanoo agreed to help them and transformed the final daughter into a comb to keep her hidden. He then brewed strong sake (an alcoholic beverage) and offered it to Orochi. After the snake got drunk and passed out, Susanoo killed it. In Orochi's tail, Susanoo found a sword that he gave to Amaterasu as a gift, leading to the two reconciling. ZERO-ARMS: Orochi is based on the sword found in Orochi's tail. There is an Orochimon, but it debuted before Susanoomon and the two are not connected.

[virgo-mess]

Silver Thread- Chapter 9 Part 1

At last, we have made it to the final chapter of Silver Thread which I've cut into two parts for length purposes. Be on the lookout for part 2 which should be uploaded after this part has been up for a while. My plan thereafter is still the same there will be a short fluffy smutty epilogue set about 5 or 6 weeks after the events of this chapter. I will try to get Silver Bells up and ready before the month lets out it is in the spirit of Valentine's Day after all. I am still aiming for 6 shorter chapters with that story and a decent length epilogue, but I've decided to leave Veda and Terry's story a little more open ended, so I have space to revisit them in the future. Expect some one shots and glimpses into their lives after the events of these stories in the future guys!

I appreciate those of you who have made it this far. This story ended up being way bigger than I originally intended back in September, but I'm not mad about it. It's hard to believe I basically wrote a novel in five months, but here we are. I hope you enjoy where this story has ended up as much as I have with all that being said get to reading and enjoy all the different head spaces we get to dwell in and the vague back stories we get for our trusty sidekicks in this chapter!!!

TW: Missing people that have somewhat been presumed to be murdered, mentions of assault both violent and sexual, detailed descriptions of injuries after a traumatic event, brotherly cry sessions, meddlesome and emotionally abusive parents, one mention of an inappropriate relationship with a minor it's very brief but it is there, lots of tears guys and I'm sorry if any of you shed a few, tender moments to boot, sidekick backstories and I think that's about it for this part guys.

PS: I hope you mobile readers appreciate my choice in emoji scene dividers 🤭

Terry’s Pov

Terry let out a long sigh, trying not to look as bored or as worried as he felt as Walter Getty droned on and on about all the models and beauty queens, he met at whatever event he went to months ago. Terry was more than aware he was just trying to pique his interest on at least one of the airheads he was talking about, he hadn’t missed the way Walter overtly ogled at Veda the minute he spotted them across the ballroom or the way he’d been brazenly trying to woe her all night. Terry had been keen to let Walter snake women he was no longer interested in out from under him in the past because it beat having the dreaded breakup talks, soothing the onset of waterworks that were sure to ensue as a result of said talk, and saved Milos and Margaret the trouble of answering and delivering the disgruntled messages his past connections would leave for him. But Veda wasn’t someone he’d ever let slip through his fingertips.

“I think you’d really like Miss Brazil, Miss Mexico, or both I know you aren’t really a one girl kind of guy after all, Terry.” Walter said obnoxiously, Terry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stared back at Walter with a steely eyed glare. The jazz music swelled indicating they were now taking the last bids for the auction items and winners would soon be announced. Terry couldn’t help but anxiously search for a flash of Veda’s tiny little burgundy dress, he had been dying to get her out of that dress since she popped out of the closet in it, even more so after her giving him the greenlight to finally take their relationship to the next level. After those words fell out of those plump little lips of hers, for a moment Terry thought he was dreaming again. Veda had been dwelling in his heated dreams for months now and even when they finally started dating, they rarely ever stopped even though she’d be lying right on his chest. She filled his thoughts, dreams, and heart Terry knew that if he lost her his world would never make sense again.

“Look, Walter, in the past I’ve let you think that you had successfully swindled a long string of women out of my clutches, but I assure you if I wanted any of them to still be on my arm they would be. I see my generosity has made you a little cocky, so I’m going to say this once and if you continue making my sweet Veda uncomfortable after I’ve said it Larry, and I are both going to have a little talk with you and I’m sure you know how those little talks go. Don’t you Walt?” Terry asked forcing a polite enough looking smile on his steely face, Walter pursed his lips finally shutting up for the second time tonight as he slowly nodded his head.

“Take it easy, Terry, I meant no offense. Veda is a very beautiful girl you know but she’s not really the type of girl your father would approve of now is she. I mean, sure, she’s a lot smarter than a majority of you past flames but at the end of the day she’s just a regular girl who doesn’t have a penny to her name. I can’t believe you even put that ring on her finger, have you even introduced her to your parents yet. I just thought I could spare you both the heartache, I mean it’s not like your dad is going to let you marry her anyway. I could take really good care of her you know” Walter said with an aura of mock sincerity in his tone, Terry’s expression hardened, and he leant a bit closer to Walter with a sinister look in his blue eyes.

“My father doesn’t have a say in what I do or who I marry, and you and Julia are more than welcome to tell him that because Veda isn’t going anywhere lest of all with a disgusting predator like you. Did you think I didn’t hear about you knocking up that poor little girl, Walt what was she fourteen, you paid off her mom and dad to keep it hush hush so they wouldn’t press charges. If you touch a hair on Veda’s head believe you won’t live long enough to pay me off. You can tell my parents I don’t really care if they ever meet her or approve of her because it won’t change the fact that she’s the woman I am going to marry. You tell them, if they want me to get back to them on that dinner invite sometime within the next decade, they’re just going to have to accept that. So, when my Veda comes back here you will not ogle at her again, and you will not try to talk her up if I feel her so much as shift uncomfortably into my side one more time tonight. Walter, I will not help fund your museum and I won’t be generous enough to warn you about what’ll be coming for you. Larry adores Veda as much as I do and he will do whatever it takes to help me protect her, now I know you remember Larry and what he used to do back in Texas very well, Walt. Don’t you?” Terry said in a hushed, menacing tone. Walter leaned away from him slightly, and Terry was more than happy to see fear swirl in his beady little eyes, anyone that thought they could threaten her spot in his life deserved to feel that way and he couldn’t wait to finish what he started with the last people that dared to do such a thing. Walt nodded frantically.

“Yes, Mr. Silver, I apologize. I didn’t realize that you and Miss. LaRusso are so set in stone. I’ll be sure to let your father know that you actually…” Walter for once seemed to be at a loss for words he looked around the gala with weary eyes. Terry once again let his eyes search for Veda and Margaret, they should’ve been back now, the lines to the ladies’ room were always ridiculous but the head of the Foster Care organization had already got through announcing a fair chunk of the winners after making his speech. Terry resolved to go look for them after he got through to the gross Walter Getty.

“Love her, Walt, I love Veda and you can tell my father that though you might have to pull out a dictionary for him because I doubt he knows what that word really means. Now, if we have come to a little understanding here, I’d like to go look for my sweet girlfriend and witty secretary. You better count yourself lucky though Walter if Margaret had heard anything you had just said in the last few minutes, she’d have your head on a platter right now” Terry said coolly, Walter looked at him with an unreadable expression for a long moment as the organization announced Margaret Spencer as the winner of an all-inclusive trip to Hawaii. Terry searched again for any glimpse of deep burgundy or navy blue in the sea of people, he finally rose to his feet as the man announced Margaret’s name two more times before setting her prize aside.

“Terry, your father cares about you I know he doesn’t show it that well, but he talks about you all the time you know, misses you even” Walter said lowly, Terry brushed him off with a curt, humorless chuckle before heading off in the direction his sweet girl had disappeared to. Terry was sure she was probably just adorably gaping at the ceiling somewhere, but he still wanted to make sure she was okay and to tell Margaret she won a trip to Hawaii. Terry chuckled softly to himself as he neared the near deserted restrooms just off the ballroom, if Margaret had just asked, he would’ve happily given her an all-inclusive trip as part of her Christmas bonus. She, Larry, and Milos definitely deserved a great trip for sticking with him through this amazing seven-month rollercoaster he had taken them on. He was glad to see they seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he was through, they doted on Veda almost as much as Terry did these days.

“Veda, Margaret are you okay?” Terry asked, cracking the restroom door open a smidge hoping Veda’s honey like voice would float out at him and ease some of his nerves. He called one more time before letting the restroom door close shut gently.

“There are other restrooms on the second-floor balcony, as well as the ones down in our new Reserve bar downstairs. It’s very beautiful down there, I’ve noticed that your date gapes at all the architecture, it’s really the cutest thing and she’s so sweet. You can reach both the balcony and the Reserve by main staircase or the elevators” a very kind venue attendant caught his attention as she motioned towards the elevators and elegant staircase with a polite smile on her face. Terry flashed her one back for paying Veda a nice compliment out of the blue, but Veda seemed to have that effect on everyone they came across. Terry wished he could assume everyone had the best intentions with his sweet girl, but he knew that wasn’t the case which is why finding her now was imperative for him.

“Thank you, Miss” Terry responded with a courteous smile of his own, the attendant nodded her head in acknowledgement and gave him a small wave farewell. Terry ventured a little further down the hallway and hit the elevator button anxiously, he was sure Veda and Margaret were fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss as he stepped into the elevator swiftly. He decided to act on the advice of the attendant and pushed the button for the Reserve room downstairs, hoping to find his little angel marveling at another paining innocently. Terry was so glad her meeting with the USC dean of admissions went so well, though Veda had no idea that the grant and the scholarship the dean was referring to were ones he’d be funding anonymously. Terry had come to realize Veda wouldn’t accept him paying for all of her schooling no matter how much she loved him, she had a thirst for knowledge, independence, and wanted to make her own path. Terry found that trait of hers incredibly endearing and deserving of admiration, Veda was one of the few people in the world that didn’t care about his money and Terry thought that was what made her the most deserving of it. She had sacrificed her time and happiness for her selfish little brother, the least Terry could do was give some of it back to her, he knew one day she might figure out he was behind it all. Terry hoped by then it would be too late for her to do anything about it if she ever tried to pay him back he’d simply put the money towards something else she desperately wanted

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a very elegant looking evening bar with gilded ceilings and a large vault door that led to a second room with two glistening chandeliers. Terry stepped out of the elevator feeling a bit more confident that this was most likely where Veda and Margaret disappeared to. He knew her well enough to know this was exactly the type of room that might induce one of her adorable little doe eyed marvel sessions. Terry walked toward the circular vault entrance and peered into the room, there were quite a few gala goers sat on the leather sofas, but Veda and Margaret were not among them. Terry felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck as his blue eyes desperately searched for a single spot of burgundy in the dimly lit room, he could hear the swell of more lively music in the floor above him before it died down completely. The shrill ring of the telephone near the bar cut through the dull chattering of the few guests sat on the sofas, the bartender answered it rather quickly and Terry could infer something happening upstairs was indeed amiss. The bartender’s dull brown eyes swirled with the slightest hint of fear in the red tinted lighting above them. Terry straightened out a bit, taking a few steps towards the bar when the bartender put the phone back on the hook with a curious look in his eyes. The bartender’s shift in demeanor and the abrupt cut off of the music in the ballroom had Terry’s heart swelling with concern almost immediately, his eyes were still flicking across the room and back through the doorway he just walked to for a flash of Veda’s soft black curls. Terry neared the bar trying not to sound as anxious as he felt as he watched the bartender frantically flit around behind the gilded bar, almost like he was closing for the night.

“Sorry, sir, you’ll have to place your drink order back up in the ballroom the Reserve will be closing for the remainder of the gala so if you could please head back upstairs” The bartender said dismissively, Terry tensed giving him a steely glare in return as he watched him fumble some beer bottles into a bin.

“May I ask why” Terry said flatly, he didn’t miss the nervous way the bartender’s lip twitched as his frantic hands hastily cleaned off the bar top. His anxious brown eyes glanced behind Terry for a moment before settling on his face, Terry had seen that expression a few times before. There was some emergency upstairs that the staff was doing their best to conceal, once it was over, they’d feed guests some random story about technical difficulties so they wouldn’t tarnish their establishment’s reputation. This only served to make Terry more anxious as Veda and Margaret were nowhere to be found, all the other event rooms were closed off there were only a few other places they could be. Terry supposed he could do another sweep of the ballroom before heading up to the balcony, if they weren’t there that only left the lobby and if they weren’t in the lobby Terry didn’t know where he and Larry should begin to look.

“Just protocol, sir, nothing to worry about. You and your friends enjoy the rest of your evening, the one with the slings looks like he could use a good time and a strong drink” the bartender said trying to lighten the mood with a tight smile. Terry furrowed his brows at the bartender, his mind was still trained on finding Veda so he couldn’t bring himself to think about what or who he might be referring now.

“What, no, I’m down here looking for my girlfriend and my secretary. Have you seen this girl?” Terry asked quickly pulling his wallet out of his pocket he pulled out one of the polaroid’s he had taken this weekend, he hated the way the bartender’s eyes practically lit up as they peered down at the picture. If Terry wasn’t so desperate to find Veda right now, he’d have no trouble knocking the guy silly for ogling at her picture so overtly.

“Wow, I can see why you’re desperate to find that one unfortunately, sir, I haven’t seen her and believe me I’d definitely remember her” the bartender said with  a smirk, Terry glared back at him blankly before tucking the photo back into his wallet gingerly his mind was reeling as it thought of what could’ve possible happened to his little angel. The bartender flashed him an apologetic sort of smile with something resembling pity swirling in his eyes.

“You and slings aren’t having the best night, huh, the other kid looked like he’d been through it too I’m surprised security even let him in with those muddy jeans he’s wearing. I’m not supposed to give out anything else once I’ve closed down the bar but here. Just don’t tell anyone where you got it from” he said handing Terry an unopened bottle of Macallan scotch, Terry furrowed his brows trying to process what the bartender was really saying as he took the scotch from him. Terry’s face hardened as he finally registered who the young bartender could possibly be referring to, Chad Johnson was undoubtedly the only person within a twenty mile radius that happened to have both of his arms in a sling. Part of Terry’s payback for Chad’s misdeeds at the pier a number of weeks ago was to make sure the kid couldn’t touch anything, a dislocated elbow in one arm and a slight fracture in his other seemed sufficient enough to get the lesson to really sink in. The added restraining order and getting him kicked out of Berkley was just a means to rub salt in the wound, a bonus to the extensive list of misfortune Terry Silver had single handedly caused him. Terry let out a low growl as his blue eyes darted across the near empty Reserve bar trying to catch a flash of Chad Johnson’s mangled golden boy locks. Terry’s lesson must not have sunk in if Chad Johnson was already in violation of his restraining order, Terry felt his heart sink into his stomach as he thought of who Chad had brought with him tonight.

“What did the kid in the muddy jeans look like and do you happen to know where they might be?” Terry asked coolly, keeping his tone nice and even though his blue eyes were blazing as they bore into the bartender intensely.

“Um, he’ about five foot nine with sandy brown hair and brown eyes they came down here not too long ago asking if I’d seen a tall guy with a ponytail which I can only assume is you, sir. I’m pretty sure I just spotted them in the lounge area just outside this door” Terry turned away from the bartender without uttering another word and rushed back into the lounge to find Chad Johonson and a disheveled looking Tommy Russell by his side. Terry watched their frantic looking eyes sweep around the empty lounge before settling on his tall looming figure across the room. Terry could tell they were anxious by the vein slightly bulging on the side of Tommy’s neck and the way Chad refused to meet his sinister gaze. Terry stalked towards them with an unreadable expression on his stony face taking the way Tommy put his arms up like he was waving a white flag from across a war zone.

“Look man, we’re not here to start anything with you, alright. I’m sorry about my behavior at the pier there’s no justification for what I did” Tommy said looking up at Terry with frantic but sincere looking brown eyes, Terry maintained his stony expression trying to decide if the look was actually sincere or if Tommy was just acting.

“And what can we attribute this shift in your moral compass to, are you missing your Camero’s pristine paint job, or did Dutch not pay you enough for the intel you gathered at the pier” Terry said flatly, Tommy sighed giving Chad a gentle nudge to the ribs, but Chad kept his eyes trained on the floor and let out a long-winded sigh of his own.

“I was the one that told Dutch what happened at the pier, Tommy asked me not to tell him, but I did it anyway so if anyone is to blame for what happened and what is happening now its me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…” Chad trailed softly, Terry cocked his head to the side looking between the two boys for a long moment as he pondered exactly how to respond. He hadn’t been expecting to get an apology and as much as he hated to say it, he wasn’t the one they owed an apology to.

“I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to, I’m not the one who wakes up from nightmares every night and I’m not the one who had to completely uproot my life to get some semblance of safety back in it. Why are you even here, surely you know you’re violating that restraining order you earned yourself don’t think a half-assed apology is going to keep me from calling the cops. I don’t take people upsetting and threatening my girl lightly and neither does my staff” Terry said coolly, noting the very serious yet frightened expression that spread across both boy’s faces he could faintly hear some sort of commotion happening on the floor above them. Terry never let his eyes stray from the offending pair taking in the sudden shift in their body language as they heard the commotion too.

“Look, sir, we know it might be hard to believe that you can trust us but you’re going to have to if you don’t want Veda getting hurt tonight, alright. Dutch is here and he’s gone completely insane he was saying a ton of crazy shit before he attacked me with a stun gun. I don’t think… I mean he was vague, but I think he wants to kill Veda tonight and if he doesn’t do that, he wants to…” Chad trailed looking back at him with serious looking green eyes, Terry stiffened feeling his heart plumet into his stomach once more. He searched for a tell nestled in the pair of green or brown eyes in front of him, but he couldn’t find one. Each pair had nothing but genuine concern and sincerity swirling within them as they stared back into his blue ones. Terry let out a shaky breath as it dawned on him that Dutch had most likely gotten to Veda and Margaret already; a large grandfather clock’s melodic chimes rang above them just as a blood curdling scream ricochets throughout the otherwise quiet venue. Terry felt the blood drain from his face as his took off towards the grand golden staircase to his left he’d recognize one of Veda’s horrified screams anywhere. They often echoed through the still halls of the Ennis House in the wee small hours of the morning, they had the power to pull Terry out of even the deadest of sleeps. The gleaming chandelier that hung over the staircase resembled the gleaming Christmas lights Terry had strung up in their bedroom as he ascended the staircase as fast as he could. He could hear Tommy and Chad’s faint pattering feet behind him as he reached the top of the staircase only to be met with a sea of horrified gala guests impeding his jaunt to save Veda from the monsters that plagued her past. Terry shoved past as many guests as he could, paying no mind to how rough or how gentle he was being as he pushed his way to the lobby.  

Terry sank to the ground in despair, watching the malicious red taillights disappear, the last time he felt such an overwhelming amount of torment and anguish he was locked in a cage. The police sirens were wailing all around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge any of it, he sat on the ground and pulled his knees into his chest. He vaguely felt Larry or Margaret place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he kept his eyes trained on the ground trying to comprehend why he wasted so much time intimidating Walter Getty surely if he had left the conversation when he wanted to Veda would still be by his side, Margaret wouldn’t have a concussion, and they’d all be happily dancing in the ballroom right now, probably discussing a way for everyone to go on Margaret’s all-inclusive getaway. Terry’s despair quickly shifted to a realm of unadulterated anger, mostly at himself for not seeing that he should’ve taken Dutch out first instead of wasting his time dishing out petty grievances to Tommy and Chad. Dutch was always the bigger threat to his sweet Veda; he never should have underestimated the sick kids’ ability to pull off a successful kidnapping he spent so long assuring Veda this wouldn’t happen and just when she started to believe him it did. Terry felt his heart twinge with guilt and did his best to keep the tears brimming his blue eyes from pouring over, he had to fix this he had to save Veda and he had to do it now.

“Mr. Silver, Margaret and I are supposed to give our statements but how about you and I can go looking right now Chad and Tommy gave me a list of places we could start.” Larry said in his deep Texan vibrato just as the chief of police approached them, Terry looked at the officer sharply as he slowly rose to his feet finally finding a strength he couldn’t when he was in the hellish cage. Assessing for the first time that he couldn’t find it then because nothing else mattered to him this much back then, he had nothing to live for and now he did.

“I want every cop in a hundred-mile radius on this case now, once Margaret gives you her statement one of your officers needs to take her home to rest. Larry and I are going to drive around and look for them” Terry said firmly, the chief of police gave him a weary look.

“I know you’re all a bit on edge right now but let the police do their job we have to question everyone here first including both of you.” The chief tried to reason, Larry gave him a discerning look and took an intimidating step forward.

“No, we’re going to start looking first and then you’ll get your statements. What we have now is a CLEAR alert, chief, one we wouldn’t be having if your department did your job weeks ago when that little girl went to you asking for a restraining order against the kid that just violently abducted her. Now I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, chief but where I’m from we don’t take little girls being dragged by their hair or being abducted at knifepoint lightly. Since your department messed up we’re going to do this our way, get over there, do your job, and send out an alert for Veda LaRusso. Margaret here will give you all the extra details and then you’ll take her home just like Terry Silver told you to or your badge will be on the line understand.” Larry said vehemently, the chief took a meek looking step back and nodded his head frantically.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry there appears to have been a miscommunication down the line. The call said there was a violent person on the premises, we weren’t aware the situation escalated before we got here. I’ll send out the alert right away, I just need her age, a description of what she was wearing, and a description of what she looks like and the vehicle he took her in.” The chief said pulling out a pen and paper.

“Nineteen, burgundy cocktail dress and sheer black tights, she has black hair, brown eyes, and is about 5 foot 2. The car is a light blue Cadillac Fleetwood, Margaret can you tell them anything else they need to know” Terry said softly, Margaret looked at him with an uncharacteristic pleading blue eyes Terry sighed looking at the white bandage sticking out from under her light blonde hair. He knew she was gearing up to fight him on his stance, if she wasn’t hurt, he might consider letting her tag along, but she was, and Terry didn’t want to think about what might happen to her if he and Larry did successfully hunt down Dutch. It was very clear Dutch had no woes when it came to hurting women in general and Terry didn’t think he could handle losing another important woman in his life tonight he was already dreading the phone call he would surely have to make to Lucielle LaRusso soon.

“Mr. Silver, the paramedics said I’m fine, I can help you and Larry search” Terry shushed her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, Margaret’s eyes were still pleading but her shoulder untensed at the feel of his hand.

“Margaret, please, I need you to go back to the Ennis house and rest for now. If Veda gets away, home might be the first place she’ll go and what if she’s hurt and can’t get in, Milos is there but he doesn’t know what’s happening.” Terry said softly, Margaret narrowed her eyes at him Terry could tell she caught on to what he was really doing and why he was doing it, but he was relieved to see her urge to fight him on it slowly evaporate from her sad, pale blue eyes.

“Okay, promise me you’ll call if you find out anything or if you want me to call up some of Larry’s friends from Texas alright” Margaret said firmly, Terry nodded his head and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and something resembling a reassuring smile before he followed Larry to the car.

“Hey, tall guy, wait” Tommy Russell’s voice came flooding towards Terry just as he opened the Rolls Royce door, Terry glanced over at Tommy’s approaching figure before deciding to meet the kid halfway. He figured he at least owed him and Chad something for their change of heart even though none of this would’ve happened if they had just left Veda alone that day on the pier. Even Terry had to admit this outcome was partially his fault too, if he hadn’t wasted so much time dishing out petty grievances instead of dealing with the biggest threat to his and Veda’s little Eden none of them would be in this situation right now. Tommy panted softly under his breath as he handed Terry a crinkled piece of yellow paper with sloppy writing scrawled on it.

“This is a list of all the places Dutch likes to hangout in the top half are his favorite places in general, the middle ones are where he likes to do his drug deals, and the bottom half is the list of properties his family owns as well as the places his dad does reality for. I couldn’t get the full list of course but I gave that older lady the number of the office he works out of so she can call as soon as they open.” Tommy said, Terry looked down at the long list and felt his stomach churn uncomfortably wishing he knew the best place to start.

“Thanks kid, uh, you don’t have to worry about your spot at Berkley it might be too late for me to get Chad back in, but I can pay for the damages I made to your Camero and tell Chad I’ll pay him the money he already wasted on tuition…” Terry said softly, Tommy flashed him a weary smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes though Terry didn’t really expect it to. Terry was surprised to see how quickly his perception of Tommy Russell had shifted within the last half hour. Behind his brown eyes he could see a semblance of the youthful innocence he saw in Veda’s; it was the same kind of innocence that lived in Twig’s eyes in what felt like a lifetime ago. Terry often wondered if anybody could still see it in his eyes even now though he felt like Veda was proof that some of it still lived within him.

“Don’t worry about that, sir, this is all my fault anyway. I was just being a jealous idiot at the pier and tonight even I should’ve asked Dutch more questions before I even agreed to give him a ride and I’m sorry. I really hope you guys find her, Veda is a wonderful person, and she deserves to be happy. I’m glad she seems to have found that with you…” Tommy said sincerely, Terry sighed letting a large hand fall on top of Tommy’s shoulder with a soft sort of expression on his face. Terry had seen this a scene like this play out a lifetime ago only he had been the one receiving a strong brotherly hand on his shoulder from a tall guy with a ponytail.

“Terry, you can call me Terry” he said, watching Tommy’s brown eyes light up, and a real smile graced the boy’s face as he stuck out a hand towards him. Terry grasped it with his free hand as the pair shared a look of understanding and respect.

            Larry drove off into the LA night, his grey eyes were trained on the road while Terry’s blue eyes would flick from the list of potential locations that Tommy gave them and the dreary LA cityscape. They drove from Hollywood to Pasadena and then from Pasadena to Encino, turned over every stone possible but found nothing, not even a single trace that either Dutch or Veda had been there or would be there. Terry grew more and more anxious with every abortive stop they made, Larry pulled the black Rolls Royce in to a dimly lit gas station around 2 am and killed the engine. They’d been driving in a tense silence for the last hour or so only speaking when it came to directions or to decide which place to go next. Terry sighed throwing his head back against the seat as he crossed off another location on the crinkled sheet of yellow paper in his hands. There were only a handful of stops left on the long list and he wasn’t sure what he would when they finally hit them all and Veda still wasn’t back in his arms, he felt Larry’s weary grey eyes linger on him for a long moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Instead, he trained his blue eyes on the payphone lit up near the gas station building, he knew Lucielle LaRusso’s phone number by heart now, but he was sure she was sleeping by now. Terry had been dreading this phone call since they left Hollywood, he hadn’t worked out how to tell Lucielle exactly what happened tonight. How he failed her and Veda so greatly in the span of a few hours, how to tell her there was a possibility that neither of them would see her daughter alive again. Terry felt tears well in his eyes for the second time tonight and this time they were closer to spilling over because Lucielle was another one of the few important women in his life.

            “I’m sorry kid, this is all my fault I should’ve never let him walk out that door with her, but he had that knife against her neck and I just… I didn’t know what to do” Larry sighed out with a slight crack in his deep Texan drawl as he stared out the windshield with watery grey eyes. Terry placed a firm hand on his forearm but still couldn’t bring himself to look at the slightly older man because the tears finally spilled over just as Terry was digging through his pocket for a quarter or two.

            “Don’t say that Larry, you did the best you could do given the circumstances, and I can’t say I would’ve done anything differently if I were in your shoes. I mean I couldn’t even break her window because I was afraid, I’d hurt her, a few cuts would’ve healed up just fine, but this won’t if anyone failed it was me and she watched me do it.” Terry said lowly, he felt Larry place a callused hand on top of his own in a brotherly manner that was reminiscent of the hands Ponytail and John used to place on him. Terry repressed a sob as Larry clasped another calloused hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a brief hug.

            “You didn’t fail, and Veda is not gonna to think you did and her mom’s not gonna think that either, I wish I could tell you everything is gonna be alright kid, but I can’t. What I can tell you is that didn’t fail her or anyone else, to hell with what your dad tells you, to hell with what anyone tells you. We’re gonna get through this together, I promise, just breathe” Larry in a soft firm tone and trailed his thumb in soothing circles on the back of Terry’s neck, the two softly cried together for a good while until Terry finally calmed down enough to pull away.

            “You alright” Larry said softly, he didn’t remove his hand until Terry nodded his head uttering a soft ‘Yeah’. Terry took a deep breath wiping the last of his tears on the sleeve of his burgundy blazer and giving Larry a half smile through the dim orange yellow glow that was flooding through the car’s windows.

            “Good, here’s a couple of quarters do you need me to go with you?” Larry asked seriously wiping away a few tears of his own before handing Terry a handful of quarters. Terry shook his head as he accepted the handful of quarters from him gently.

            “No, it’s alright you can gas up and then we’ll get going.” Terry said opening his door slowly and stepping out into the cool summer air.

The later morning hours crept in quickly, but Terry wasn’t tired, he knew he’d never rest until he found his Veda, or his body gave out on him and shut down. He wasn’t sure which option was worse, it had been nearly seven hours since Dutch Howard ripped his sweet girl out of his clutches, there were so many horrible things he could’ve done to her by now and every passing hour decreased the likelihood of finding her alive. Terry felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as Larry silently pulled the car through the Ennis House gates, he didn’t think he could live in a world without her in it. Terry caught sight of a very anxious looking Margaret and Milos in the entryway as Larry threw the Rolls Royce in park for the first time since they made a stop at the gas station some time ago. Terry silently stepped out of the car, not waiting for Larry to come around and open his door for him for the first time in a while and sluggishly made his way up the concrete path.

“Morning, Mr. Silver, the authorities did inform us that they have Mr. Howard in their custody, but Veda wasn’t with him when they got him. He is insisting he doesn’t know where she is but the shoes, she was wearing last night were with him and um there was quite a bit of blood on his clothes. Chief Ramsey sent it out to get tested, but it’ll be a while before they get the results and other than that Mr. Howard is refusing to talk. You still have a board meeting scheduled for this morning and if it were any other day, sir you know I’d cancel but we postponed it for you take your trip….” Margaret said just above a whisper, Terry sighed not meeting her gaze as he walked past to her and into the entrance hall the house seemed so cold, so lifeless without Veda here with him to light it up.

“Cancel it, after I clean myself up then I’m heading back out to find her. Larry, go get some rest I can take the Corniche” Terry said, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Dutch Howard was currently sitting in a station interview room with Veda’s precious blood as he ventured up the stairs.

“Mr. Silver, I’m sorry but I can’t let you miss this one, you know Marcus is after your chair as CEO and you not showing up will be all he needs to get signatures on his petition” Margaret said frantically, Terry brushed her off and rushed down the loggia and into the lifeless master bedroom he busied himself with a quick shower and opted for a casual summer suit to really drive the point home. Margaret sighed when Terry emerged from the bedroom with a stony-faced Larry by her side.

“Sir, I don’t mind driving you really you know I can function on just as little sleep as you can, but Margaret is right. Do you think you could at least make an appearance at the board meeting for appearance’s sake? You don’t have to stay the whole time I’m sure even Marcus could understand you cutting the meeting short. If our results turn up unsuccessful today you know I have Wild Bert on speed dial” Larry asked softly, Terry sighed looking between them for a long moment before training his eyes on his shoes.

“Mr. Silver, I’ll be here to listen for the phones so I can deliver messages if anything important comes up and having Margaret at the office would be a great thing too, we’ll have all our bases covered, don’t you think? I gave Larry my pager to use when the meeting is over” Milos said encouragingly, Terry sighed again feeling a bit defeated, they weren’t wrong sparing a few minutes to chew out Marcus wouldn’t take that long, and he and Larry could be back on the road within twenty minutes. At least by then there would be more businesses open and more people out and about on the streets of LA on their morning commute. If Veda was lost at least, she’d have somewhere to take shelter or call, Terry ignored the twinge in his chest at the thought of someone stumbling upon her in such a vulnerable state. He was considering calling up Wild Bert and his crew just to be her security detail if he, when he found her.

“Fine but let’s make it fast alright and we should still take the Corniche because that’s a car Veda will recognize immediately if she’s still…” Terry trailed calmly before descending the stairs and rushing to the garage, he couldn’t bring himself to even think the rest of that statement as he tossed Larry the keys and sat in the passenger’s seat. The ride to Dynatox felt like an eternity without her by his side, when she was there time seemed to move differently his nights and days revolved around her because she was his sun and his entire reason for being now. Terry threw his head back against the seat the top was still down because Veda loved feeling the golden summer sun on her perfect tan skin. Terry’s blue eyes took in the current state of the gloomy LA sky, it hardly ever rained during the LA summers but today it looked like it might forgo its natural inclination and weep for once. If that happened surely, they’d weep together in mourning for the loss of the warmth that radiated above their days and somehow managed to swaddle them at night. Veda had only been gone a few hours, but Terry already felt so cold, so unbelievably hallow as Larry finally pulled up to the building of course it had to be the one he first laid eyes on her in.

“Margaret, please tell all the board members to come down to the lower-level conference room today. Have the car running in twenty minutes if you can, Larry” Terry said just above a whisper, he didn’t think he could handle walking past her empty desk right now or to stand in the elevator they shared their morning ritual in. He could barely handle stepping out of the car and walking up to the gilded doors or forcing himself to walk past the gleaming elevators. He could hear the click of Margaret’s pumps on the white tiled floor behind him and for a second his mind told him it was Veda. All the people floating around the lobby seemed so cheery and Terry began to consider he might never feel that level of happiness again, he even rudely brushed off the custodian and one of the girls that worked in the buildings Cafeteria. Terry felt bad about the dejected looks that swept across their faces it’d been over seven weeks since he had so much as raised his voice at anyone in this office building. Yet another way Veda had positively influenced his life before her he knew his employees only showed up because he paid them well. At least a lot a better than what his father, William Terrance Silver used to pay them if he knew Terry had been happily closing the office to celebrate things with Veda and giving everyone end of the year bonuses, he’d have a heart attack. He was sure he was having one right now because Walter Getty would’ve informed him about the little chat, they had last night before Terry’s world was stolen from him. Terry just hoped Bill Silver wasn’t impeding on Milos’s campout in front of the landline by blowing up the phone, he was sure Bill would be popping over soon he just hoped Veda would be home and safe by then.

Terry wordlessly wandered into the corner conference room, sat in the chair at the end of the table, set his watch timer, and then let his blue eyes gaze out the large window.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Third Person Pov

Margaret sighed watching Terry bark something indistinguishable into the custodian’s face it had been quite some time since he snapped at any office personnel, she felt her heart twinge as Terry apathetically stalked into the corner conference room.

“Mr. Silver is having a rough day today; I’d suggest giving him some space for a while. I’ll be sending out a fax later to let everyone know but you might as well get the word out that all problems be brought to me first and I’ll relay the messages to Mr. Silver, alright.” Margaret said softly, the custodian and the café worker nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry ma’am but one of the café windows is broken and we thought someone might want to take a look” the girl said, Margaret nodded as she hit one of the elevator buttons.

“I’ll have a look at it just as soon as I get the board members to the corner conference room down here, alright” Margaret said dismissively as she stepped into the elevator, rounding up the board members was surprisingly quick even though Marcus Hilton looked like he was ready to bite someone’s head off. Margaret made sure to tell him setting Terry off today wouldn’t be in his best interest especially when Terry was already looking for a reason to get him kicked off the board.

“Sure, whatever you say honey” Marcus said condescendingly, he stepped around Margaret to get out of the elevator once they reached the lobby. Margaret narrowed her eyes at the older man and didn’t make an attempt to hide the sneer on her face, Marcus Hilton had used any array of nauseating pet names for her since she started working for Mr. Silver. Any other day she might be keen to ignore it but today wasn’t one of those days, today she was stressed, overworked, over tired, and nursing a mild concussion from Dutch’s frenzied elevator attack. Margaret stuck her foot out before Marcus could make it past her and watched as the lengthy, grotesque man nearly toppled to the ground.

“Sorry, honey, I guess I should’ve mentioned I’m not one you want to set off today either. The love of Mr. Silver’s life was kidnapped at knifepoint last night Mr. Hilton, he and Larry are itching to get out of this building as fast as they can to locate her and if you’re going to stand in either of their way, surely even you know, they won’t hesitate to take you out permanently. I know I don’t have to remind you who Lawrence is and what him and his friends from Texas do but I am warning you that I’m headed up to Mr. Silver’s office to call Bert as soon as I escort you and the other board members to the corner office. Now it is up to you to decide if you want me to have them add you to their little list Mr. Hilton, understand” Margaret said sharply, Marcus Hilton audibly gulped frantically shaking his head.

“Of course not, Ms. Spencer. I apologize for my tone, after you” Marcus said not meeting her eye as he stepped out of her path, Margaret gave him a tight smile and swiftly glided out of the elevator.

“Glad we have that sorted, follow me” Margaret said nonchalantly, her black pumps echoing through the titled lobby as she led the staggered group of posh board members to the corner conference room.

🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶🕶

The telephone ring cut through the silence of the Ennis house sharply, Milos jumped slightly and set down his third cup of fresh espresso and made his way across the living room. He and Margaret had been up all night trying to get an old police scanner they found in one of Veda’s unpacked boxes up and working, they had found out the cops had Dutch in custody and the chief called early this morning to keep them updated on how his interrogation was going. Milos thought it was a curious thing for her to have packed away under an array of her childhood stuffed animals but considering the events that unfolded last night it didn’t seem quite as curious to him now. He wished he had accepted Mr. Silver’s invite to the gala, if he had he could’ve been there to escort Veda and Margaret to the bathroom while Terry was occupied.

Milos picked up the phone off the receiver hurriedly, hoping to hear some good news that would lift the ominous gray clouds that currently loomed over the Ennis House. It felt like mother nature was also mourning today, truly uncharacteristic of the normally sunny California summers. This was the happiest summer Milos had seen Terry Silver have since he had started working for the young billionaire some eight years ago. He, Larry, and Margaret put up with his often-outrageous demands and misdeeds because underneath it all they knew, Terry Silver was just a young man, a child really forced to face the world of the elite alone. The money, the parties, and the models didn’t change the fact that Terry Silver was above all else, a lonely man. Sure his friend John Kreese made an appearance once in a blue moon but sometimes Milos got the sense that Mr. Kreese only showed up because of a sense of moral obligation.

“Hello, Terry Silver’s residence” Milos spoke into the phone, his eyes trailed about the lifeless house for a moment noting the absence of the golden hues that usually streamed through the stained glass windows.

“Hello this is Chief Ramsey; I believe you and I spoke on the phone last night” the Chief’s gruff voice came from the other end of the telephone. Milos didn’t miss the deep, defeated sounding sigh that the chief breathed out after he finished his statement, Milos felt his heart sink into the pits of his churning stomach. Any hope he had of receiving even a smidge of good news dissipated and he let out a deep, defeated sounding sigh if his own.

“Yes, I believe we did, I’m assuming you have an update on Mr. Howard’s interrogation. Has he…” Milos trailed; he knew the word he wanted to use but using it would mean acknowledging the fact that Veda LaRusso might be gone forever. That he might never hear her infectious laughter floating down the loggia or see her darling smile as she greeted him in the morning. The chief sighed again, and Milos could hear him faintly clicking a pen on the other end of the phone.

“No, sir, he didn’t confess, he’s been sticking to his story that she got away from him and wandered off without her shoes. He wouldn’t say why she would do that, but the analysis of the vile Chad gave us came back positive for GHB. Kids are using it to party now, but its primary euphoric effects make the users more compliant, sometimes even incapacitated especially if it’s mixed with alcohol. If his story is true Veda might have gotten away but the drugs in her system would’ve left her confused, she might have ended up in a situation she couldn’t get out of. I still have officers searching the park for any more clues and they’re questioning people in the area but that’s not what I called about…” The chief said softly wishing he had called with good news, Milos let out a mild sigh of relief at the fact that Veda might not be lost forever, they still had a chance of finding her.

“Well, what did you call about then Chief Ramsey. Finding Miss LaRusso should still be your top priority and if you have Mr. Howard in your custody there should be nothing standing in your way” Milos said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt but he couldn’t help but feel like the LAPD were wasting precious time. Milos couldn’t see the chief settle his forehead into the palm of his hand on the other end of the phone

“I called to tell you, Dutch Howard, won’t be in our custody much longer…” this time Milos didn’t try to hide his annoyance or outrage as he cut the chief off sharply.

“Why on earth would you be letting that animal go! A room full of people saw him drag a little girl by her hair and hold knife to her neck!?” Milos fumed, wishing he could knock over one of Mr. Silver’s expensive vases he surely wouldn’t mind after Milos got this ridiculous update to him. The chief sighed again clicking his pen a little bit faster on the other end of the phone, the chief had expected this type of reaction because he had handled reactions like this time and time again in his line of work. That still didn’t make the process any easier, delivering bad news was the worst part of the job.

“I’m sorry, sir, I really am but we didn’t have a choice. The kid’s dad came in with the best defense lawyer in the county and he readily pointed out that Mr. Howard was no longer committing a crime when Officer Ewing arrested him. It didn’t help that Officer Ewing roughed him up a bit before he got him here but even if he hadn’t, we had nothing to hold him on. We can’t prove he killed her anymore than we can prove that he let her go unharmed the most we could get him for was stealing Tommy’s dad’s car and violating his parole. I don’t like it anymore than you do believe me if there was more, I could do, I would. The best we can do is hope he is telling the truth and that we find her before he does, the kid did have multiple wounds from a stun gun. I’d say she put up a hell of a fight even if…” The chief said letting out another deeply dissatisfied sigh, Milos pursed his lips rummaging through his pocket for his car keys.

“How long do we have before you release him” Milos asked sharply.

“I can do my best to hold him up for another hour, maybe two if Officer Ewing can dig something up.”

“That’s all we need, chief, thanks” Milos said, placing the phone back on the jack.

👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠👠

Margaret hurriedly rushed the still astonished group of obnoxious board members into the corner office, Terry was sat at the end of the large rectangular table with his chin propped in the palm of his hand. It’d been a while since Margaret had seen him show a hint of defeat in such a manner, his expression mirrored the one he wore in those first few months Veda had started interning for Dynatox Industries. Equal amounts deeply troubled and hopelessly longing, Margaret wished the circumstances surrounding the two were the same. That darling Veda was just playing hard to get and that she’d come bounding in to give him a stern talking to. Margaret watched the board members take in Terry’s attire with deep looks of pity in their beady little eyes as they sat around the large table almost meekly.

“Thank you, Margaret, before you leave today do you think you could fax the file that’s sitting on my desk over to our shareholders” Terry said lowly, Margaret nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll do that as soon as I head over to the Café. Apparently, someone…” Margaret trailed furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she thought over what she was about to say. Terry looked at Margaret with an almost hopefully glint in his eyes as he watched her pause for a moment in deep contemplation, he recognized that look. It spread across her face when she thought or noticed something she hadn’t before, an ‘a ha’ moment in the truest sense of the expression.

“Someone what, Margaret” Terry said softly, he saw an unsure look flick across her features before she slumped her shoulders. She couldn’t utter the thought she just had after seeing such a hopeful look dance in Terry’s melancholy blue eyes and she was sorry to have put it there for even a second. Now she just felt silly for even thinking, darling little Veda, would ever do such a thing when she flew into a rather adorable panic over breaking on of Terry’s porcelain teacups the other day. Terry had to distract her with a proposal to go out for ice cream, Margaret let a sad smile grace her lips as she looked at Terry for a moment. Ice cream seemed to be one of Veda’s favorite comfort foods, Margaret often caught Veda begging Terry for ice cream with her big brown puppy eyes. Margaret had suggested that Terry simply keep some in the house, but Terry said he liked seeing how happy going out to a local shop made the little darling he then described how adorable she looked every time she tried to decide what flavor she wanted.

“Nothing, sir, someone broke one of the windows in the Café. I’m sure it was just some vandal, I’m heading up to call a repair team now and I’ll get that fax out for you right away” she said, Terry slumped his shoulders almost instantly he too thought there was no way his sweet girl would ever do such a thing even on a bad day she couldn’t drop a teacup without an adorable rambling apology.

“Oh, I see, thank you Margaret” Terry said softly finally settling his eyes on the board members in front of him. “Alright, Marcus, make this quick” Terry said harshly, Margret watched Marcus Hilton stumble to his feet for the second time today before swiftly retreating back into the tiled lobby. She didn’t really see a point in inspecting any of the damage the broken Café window had caused, she simply headed toward the elevator and pushed the button. The elevator gave a soft ding as she reached the 15th floor and the door softly slid open to reveal a rather loud bunch of Dynatox employees. Margaret wasn’t surprised, she was sure the morning news did some sort of broadcast of the current CLEAR alert out for Veda Noelle LaRusso this morning, she just hadn’t found time to watch it.

Margaret trudged through the office feeling that her lack of a good night’s rest was finally catching up to her as she neared Zoe Mitchel’s desk. The slim blonde was staring at the heaps of flowers already placed on Veda’s desk with tears briming her honey brown eyes, Rob had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and was rubbing soothing circles on her back. His sandy brown hair was tousled more than usual, and his usually cheerful green eyes looked incredibly somber, he like Zoe had heard the rundown of the horrifying events that had transpired last night on the morning news. He had quite nearly dropped a streaming pan of scrambled eggs on his bare feet when Zoe let out a high-pitched shriek and knocked over the gargoyle statue, he had sitting on the coffee table shattering it into a million pieces. Zoe had been itching to get rid of that sculpture since they started dating and Rob always knew she’d cook up a way to get rid of it in that cute little head of hers eventually, but he wished the events surrounding the death of his beloved statue were much less depressing.

Zoe stared at Veda’s empty desk and felt like her whole world was crashing down around her sometimes she wondered how she and Veda had become so close in such a short amount of time. Before Veda started working at Dynatox Zoe spent most of her days and lunches alone in the office, she had never gotten around to making many friends aside from the occasional small chat she made with Rob over the past two years she had worked here. Sometimes Zoe couldn’t help but wonder where she and Rob would even be if Veda had never come along and pushed them together. Surely, they’d still be secretly pining after each other and Rob may have never told her he loved her at the top of the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica pier. In a lot of ways Zoe felt like her life had only begun when she and Veda became friends, contrary to what people believed Zoe was never the popular girl in school. She mostly kept to herself during those awkward adolescent years, any friends she did have during her youth were still living in her small hometown of Leavenworth Washington and her years spent at UCLA weren’t much different. Zoe had already been dreading what her days were going to look like when Veda would be going to Cal-Tech full time in the fall but at least she’d know where she was and that she’d at least be seeing her on the weekends and during her school breaks.

“Oh, Margaret, are you okay? We heard what happened on the news how is everything going?” Zoe asked softly, Margaret sighed giving her a weary look as she stopped in front of her desk.

“I’m alright dear, just a bit tired, the cops have Dutch in custody but he’s insisting he doesn’t know where Veda is. Terry is having a hard time, so he and Larry are going to go out looking for her again in case Dutch isn’t lying by chance. Veda’s mom is driving down from Fresno, she should be arriving within the hour other than that, we know next to nothing I’m afraid we’re in for a long day of waiting” Margaret sighed, peering through the glass window of Terry’s still office. His office door was only slightly ajar which Margaret thought it was odd because Terry now had the habit of leaving the door wide open even though Veda would often be sat doing paperwork right beside him.

“Oh, Margaret, it’s all so awful and now having to sit and wait to find out if she’s okay or not. I can’t believe people are putting flowers on her desk already like she’s really…” Zoe trailed letting out a deep melancholy sigh she didn’t foresee herself getting much work down today. Sitting at her desk and going through environmental files was tedious enough on its own but now having to do it while she looked across the room at her missing best friend’s desk all day felt like more than she could handle emotionally and mentally. Margaret sighed again seeming to pick up on Zoe’s line of thinking, she really didn’t see the point in making everyone stay when Terry wasn’t going to be here to give out his tasks of the week.

“It’s alright Zoe, I think I’m just going to send everyone home for today, so you and Rob are free to go if you’d like. Could you get the word out before you go?” Margaret asked softly, Rob and Zoe nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, we can do that, but we’d rather stay with you today if that’s alright” Zoe said softly, Margaret gave her a brief reassuring smile before peering into Terry’s office once more. She could make out that the ominous grey clouds were beginning to let the LA summer sun peek through, the golden rays streamed across the grey tonal carpet on his office floor and under one of the black leather sofas he had put in a few weeks ago when Veda joked that he needed comfier office furniture. Margaret smiled wistfully at the memory her blue eyes were still trained on the still office as the golden stream crept a little further to the right and illuminated something glittery next to one of the sofa’s legs.

“That’s perfectly fine, darling, I just have to get something faxed for Mr. Silver, make a call, and then we can be on our way. I’m sure Larry and Mr. Silver would appreciate a few more hands” Margaret said, squinting her eyes a bit to see if she could make out the glittery object sitting under the leather sofa as she walked toward his office door and gently pushed it open. The clicking of her heels softened as she entered the quiet office and strolled over to the couch to pick up the glistening heap off the fabric covered floor. Margaret bent down and scooped the object into her hand, she took a few more steps into the office as looked down at the object. She let out a soft gasp and she trailed her thumb over the diamond chain gingerly before settling it on top of the 6-carat tear shaped ruby pendent in the middle.

🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴

Milos swerved in and out of traffic lanes with expert precision ignoring the disgruntled yells and honks of LA patrons as he sped down Hollywood freeway with the windows of his Porche 944 Turbo. Back in Black by AC/DC was flooding out of the windows and above the rev of the engine, Milos gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as he let his foot press down a little harder on the gas pedal on instinct. The Porche was a late Christmas present from Terry last year, he left a cheeky little card encouraging Milos to relive the stockcar races of his youth through Milos had left that life behind him long before Terry ever hired him. The only remnants of his racecar days were a few trophies shoved in the back of his closet in the servant’s quarters above the Ennis House garage, along with his extensive collection of black leather biker jackets.

Milos threw on his black sunglasses as the grey clouds finally parted for the LA summer sun, he’d be at Dynatox shortly he only hoped he’d arrive before Terry and Larry went out to search for Veda again. He had to tell them Dutch was being released, Milos was never one to get his hands dirty or start a fight even in the young rebellious years of his youth, but Dutch Howard had him seriously reconsidering that prospect. He wasn’t half as skilled as Terry or Larry in the unadulterated violence department, but he could throw a nasty punch when it came down to it and no one deserved a nastier punch than Dutch Howard. Milos sped off the freeway and turned down a series of streets, running a few red lights in the process before he pulled the Porche to a screeching halt in front of Dynatox Industries.

Larry was leaning against the Corniche with a tired but amused half smile curled upon his face and took part of his thick grey mustache with it. His grey eyes watched as Milos cut the engine and threw open the driver’s door wearing a pair of black sunglasses made popular by the Blue Brothers and his usual black suit though his tie was hung loosely around his neck.

“Oooo wee, Speed racer has emerged from his cave and rejoined the land of the livin’, never thought I’d live to see that day. Remind me again why I’m the chauffer, I really wished you had pulled out one of those leather jumpsuits you’ve got buried in the back of your closet. What’s goin’ on, you hear anything from the cops?” Larry’s deep Texan vibrato floated across the sidewalk as Milos rolled his eyes under his sunglasses and shut the Porche door with a soft thud.

“The cops are releasing Dutch” Milos said walking towards Larry with a weary look of his own though it was shielded by his dark glasses. Larry’s face hardened as he glanced over at Milos with a fire blazing in his grey eyes, Dutch Howard was about to have the worst day of his miserable life. Neither of the men standing on the sidewalk thought the kid was going to live to see the inside of a prison cell and even if he did, he surely wouldn’t last there very long the spoiled Cali brats never did. Larry had a few friends over in the Metropolitan Detention Center that didn’t take young woman and girls being abused lightly all Larry had to do was write a letter.

“What, why the hell are they doin’ that” Larry boomed clenching his fists tightly against his sides, Milos let out a deep sigh and took off his sunglasses to look Larry in the eyes.

“The kid’s dad got a hold of Willie Cole, Chief Ramsey said they could hold him for another hour or two hours at the most. I thought we’d all want to be there to greet Mr. Howard on his way out of the precinct” Milos said lowly, Larry raised an eyebrow at Milos as they both made the short walk up to Dynatox’s grand gilded doors.

“Shoot, you coming with us to the rodeo Speed racer?” Larry said slightly surprised, he never really believed Terry when he said Milos used to be a rebellious race car driver. Milos was always poised and polite, the opposite of Larry when Terry met him in a bar down in San Antonio some years ago and hired him on the spot. Why Terry was in that rundown bar was still a mystery, but Larry was eternally grateful for whatever it was that brought the kid there. Larry has been working odd jobs and living out of motels after his grandma passed, Georgia Bowman was the woman that raised him and the only family he had left. Larry always wondered why Milos insisted on the role of being a butler when he clearly knew how to operate a car way better than he could, but Milos was almost as tight lipped about his past as Margaret was.

“Damn right” Milos said, taking a moment to click the lock button on the Porche key fob.

“Well alright then, let’s go get the boss man” Larry said pulling the handle on one of the gold doors, he and Milos shuffled inside the virtually empty Dynatox lobby. Larry had seen a sea of employees shuffle out of the building some time ago, gabbing about the current string of depressing events of the previous night in a manner that was similar to the way his grandmother used to gossip to their neighbor on their front porch during the Texan summers. Larry glanced down at his watch for a moment, he’d give it a couple more minutes before he stormed into the conference room just like Terry had quietly asked him to when Margaret had stepped out of the car. If she knew they were only planning on giving the board members a full ten minutes instead of the full twenty-five they had promised she’d have a cow. Larry could count the amount of times he had seen Margaret Spencer angry on one hand and each time was more terrifying than the last.

👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈

Margaret felt her stomach churn uncomfortably as she looked down at the expensive ruby necklace in her shaky hand, it was the necklace Terry gifted to Veda before they left for the Gala last night. Margaret remembered the way the ruby glistened in the venue lobby as Dutch Howard pressed a long knife into the side of Veda’s neck and the way she helplessly reached for Larry to comfort her. She remembered how time felt like it stood still because it was reminiscent of the way time stood still that night, she was riding along a rainy highway with her husband, George Spencer in the driver’s seat and their sixteen-year-old son, Ben, in the back seat. She was caught in that confusing moment when your body is trying to decide if you’re going to fight, flee, or freeze of course that rainy night Margaret wasn’t given the opportunity to choose though she did freeze when the truck headlights sharply veered toward them. She woke up on the muddy ground sometime later to see their car set ablaze in the unusually heavy London storm. Last night however Margaret was afforded the chance to choose and for whatever reason her body choose to freeze as soon as her blue eyes spotted the iridescent hilt of the knife Dutch Howard held to her neck in the venue elevator. Margaret wished there was more she could’ve done to keep Dutch Howard from finding Veda alone and defenseless in secluded hallway but Dutch wacked her in the temple hard enough that she couldn’t think up a more convincing lie for Veda’s whereabouts.

Margaret ripped her blue eyes off the necklace and looked around Terry Silver’s office in its entirety for the first time since she walked in. Upon closer inspection she noticed some of the files that were previously sat neatly atop his desk last week were now scattered across the gray carpeted floor. Her mind wandered back towards the broken café window and how she considered for the briefest of moments Veda LaRusso had been the one to break it, it would now appear her original line of thinking wasn’t too far off. Perhaps the scum that is Dutch Howard hadn’t lied after all, Veda LaRusso did get away from him and she for whatever reason decided Dynatox was going to be where she was going to take refuge for the night. Margaret let out a shaky breath as she eyed Terry’s desk at the far side of the office there weren’t many places for Veda to be hiding in here though it was possible she was hiding out in another part of the building probably scared half to death. Margaret saw Zoe appear in the office doorway out of the corner of her eye but she couldn’t bring herself to look at her as she tried to detect any movement on the other side of the Terry Silver’s cherry desk. Zoe eyed the older woman curiously as she stood frozen next to one of the new leather sofas Terry had put in his office last week, she looked much paler than she had a few minutes ago.

“Everyone has cleared out for the day just as you requested. Is everything alright?” Zoe said softly, glancing over to see what Margaret was staring at so intently finding that her blue eyes were glued on the desk at the far side of the room. Zoe noticed some paperwork scattered across the floor and thought maybe Margaret had lost her footing while she went to get the files Terry had requested, she fax for him. She had heard Dutch had given the poor woman a concussion last night and decided maybe Margaret just needed to lay down for a few minutes.

“Margaret, why don’t you have a seat on one of the sofas for a minute. You look exhausted, if you just give me the number, I can go fax those papers for you if you’d like.” Zoe said walking a bit further into the office, before Margaret could respond they both heard something resembling a meek whimper float around the room. Zoe stopped suddenly, her caramel brown eyes flicked between the desk and Margaret for a long moment. Margaret finally brought herself to utter the only name that had been on her mind for the past seven hours as she took a cautious step towards the dark brown desk.

“Veda, darling, is that you?” Margaret asked in a gentle tone and another meek sounding whimper sounded in reply this time sounding more frightened than anything. Margaret forced herself to keep her cautious pace as she motioned for Zoe to follow her, Zoe felt her heartrate pick up as they reached the corner of the desk. Both of them now noticed how far away Terry’s rolling leather chair was from the hard brown desk, it was nearly touching the large window that overlooked downtown Los Angeles. The chairs deep brown leather was illuminated by the warm golden sun that had fully emerged from behind the thick gray clouds, the golden hue washed across the grey floor in a way that made Zoe feel like it was guiding them to exactly what or rather who everyone had spent the last seven hours searching for. Zoe stopped walking just before Margaret rounded the desk and fell to her knees with an audible gasp, Zoe felt her stomach twist uncomfortably even with the brief wave of relief that ran through her body.

“Oh, Veda” Margaret gasped reaching out to Veda’s curled form underneath her chosen wooden refuge. Margaret felt her stomach churn as her blue eyes took in the dark purpled bruises and deep gashes that littered her delicate tan skin before fixating on her overly swollen left arm and shoulder Veda’s bloody right hand was currently clutching. Veda was shaking like a leaf as she turned her head to look over at Margaret with terrified brown eyes that didn’t seem to register exactly who they were looking at. The deep golden sun lit her deep brown eyes up enough for Margaret to see her pupils were big, dilated saucers and the whites of her eyes were a bright shade of bloodshot red as they darted rapidly in her sockets seemingly of their own accord. Margaret reached a hand out to wipe the black curls that were clinging to her clammy forehead out of her eyes gently. Veda let out a loud horrified shriek and lurched away from Margaret’s gentle hand like it was a loaded gun, Margaret sighed sadly but ultimately retracked her hand in the hopes that Veda would halt her shrieking.

“Veda darling, it’s okay, it’s safe to come out now…” Margaret said in a soft soothing tone, Zoe finally rounded the corner and felt like she might throw up as she eyed Veda’s tattered black tights from underneath the muddy fabric of her cocktail dress. Noting the way, they were only cut between her trembling legs aside from the tears and runs over her cut knees.

“How… how did she get in here” Zoe said lowering herself to her knees right beside Margaret, who seemed to snap out of her cautious mode of inaction she had to catch Terry before he and Larry left to go search for Veda. They’d surely be leaving soon, she heard Terry planning to run away from the board meeting as soon as she stepped out of the car, due to the circumstances she was going to let his disobedience slide for once and not subject him to a harsh scolding.

“The café window was broken downstairs; we need to catch Mr. Silver before he leaves. Can you help me get her out from under here?” Margaret asked, this time reaching to put a firm hand on one of Veda’s trembling legs a little bit out of her eyesight. Zoe wordlessly obliged but as soon as their hands brushed against one of Veda’s deep cuts, she let out a bloodcurdling scream reminiscent of the one that sounded through the gala venue last night. Zoe and Margaret rushed to soothe her as a frantic looking Rob came bounding into the office to see what was going on. His breath hitched in his throat as he caught a flash of Veda’s mangled form peeking out from under Terry Silver’s desk.

“Oh my god” Rob breathed out, just as Veda’s senseless screaming formed a string of slurred, nearly indistinguishable words as she coiled further beneath the desk.

“No... don’t touch only... Terry… helps me. Want Terry” Veda slurred out between dissatisfied screams, Margaret glanced up at Rob helplessly as she finally retracted her hands and reached up toward the phone that sat on the edge of Terry’s desk.

“He’s in the corner conference room downstairs…” Margaret said to no one in particular as she hit the speed dial button for the glass conference room just off the lobby. The line rang and rang as Margaret tapped her finger on the hard wood of the cherry desk impatiently and anxiously. Rob pulled himself out of his shocked daze, forcing his legs to carry him back towards the office door. His heart was racing a mile a minute.

“I’ll see if I can catch him” Rob called before disappearing out of the office in a hurried frenzy, Zoe proceeded to soothe a now weeping Veda who was still muttering Terry’s name repeatedly. Veda tried to coil away from Zoe’s hands as they reached to pull her muddy dress back down into place for her, Zoe did her best not to burst into tears when she saw how irritated she looked between her thighs right now. Margaret hung up the phone briefly before dialing Chief Ramsey’s direct line, the phone rang all of two times before his rough voice came on the other end of the receiver.

“Chief Ramsey speaking” he said slowly sounding just as exhausted as Margaret felt right now, she glanced down at Zoe and Veda to see Veda had calmed down some, but it only appeared to be because she was in so much pain. Margaret watched her paw at her swollen arm with tears streaming down her battered face and bruised neck, she was still muttering ‘Terry’ between slow shallow breaths and Margaret feared she might slip into a coma.

“Keep talking to her Zoe, don’t let her drift off” Margaret told her in a hushed tone, Zoe nodded and proceeded to ask Veda how her trip with Terry was. She knew Veda wouldn’t answer but hearing Terry’s name made her perk up even in her delirious state.

“Chief Ramsey, it’s Margaret Spencer, I’m calling to tell you we found Veda here at Dynatox, but she’s hurt bad. Can you meet us at Good Samaritan on Wilshire Boulevard?” Margaret said hurriedly, she heard Chief Ramsey shuffling frantically on the other end of the phone, but she didn’t even wait for him to reply as she slammed the phone back on the hook. Margaret knelt back down beside Zoe and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Terry’s coming Veda, everything is going to be okay darling” Margaret said softly.

🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈

Rob sprinted towards the elevator and hit the down button more times than he needed too, he found it extremely annoying how elevators only seemed to take forever when you were in a hurry. The door even slid open at an agonizingly slow pace, Rob didn’t even wait for it to fully open before he slid in and pushed the button for the lobby hard enough to make a dull clicking sound. Rob for once was regretting not being an athlete in high school, he spent more time developing film in his high school dark room than he did playing tag football with his older brothers and sports crazed father. He could hear his dad’s condescending tone already ‘If you had just realized your potential as an athlete Robin, you’d have no problem sprinting down fifteen flights of stairs boy’. Rob tapped his foot impatiently, watching the numbers above the door glow an amber shade of gold one at a time by the time the number two lit up Rob was already backing himself against the elevator wall. A soft ding sounded, and Rob flew out of the elevator and down the ridiculously large lobby as fast as his legs could take him, he paid very little mind to anyone else lingering in the lobby, but he did stop briefly when a deep voice called out his name.

“Rob, slow down before you hurt yourself there” Rob whipped around and instantly recognized the men leaning against some of the chairs in the lobby, he had met them both at Terry Silver’s mansion that day they went to the pier. Rob let out a relieved breath at the sight of Larry and Milos, surely Terry was still sat in the board meeting which Rob would be crashing very shortly.

“Veda… is upstairs in Terry’s office… go” Rob panted, Larry and Milos shared a look of surprise and relief as they watched Rob resume his relay worthy sprint down the long lobby before disappearing around a corner. Rob reached the glass conference room only to find Terry was no longer in it, in fact no one was it was completely deserted Rob let out a breathless groan and bent over slightly to get some air back in his nonathletic lungs.

“Why didn’t I just do football” Rob hissed before turning around and running back down the hall he just flew down.

------

There's a shortage of sad pensive Terry gifs from kk3 🫠

Not period appropriate, but this is my mood board for Dynatox.

I don't usually like putting face claims into my stories because I like you guys picturing whomever it is your heart desires. But I want to make it known I'm picturing and hearing Sam Elliot in Roadhouse when I'm writing for Larry now 😂. And now you all get to, too.

[tara-girl]

The Celestial Titan: Unveiling the Dominance of Strongest Planet in Astrological World

First of all, let us first define what's the meaning of strong ?A simple answer would be is that - When you feel that you can do anything you wish in your life. That's the time you feel strongest? Isn't it?

But being strong doesn't always lead to happiness and success. It's your choice how being strong, you utilize the trait or condition to prosper or destroy yourself.

Well, as per my research and knowledge, I can say that the Moon is the only planet that can help you do whatever you want. Make you strong. Moon is mind. It represents thoughts.Mind has the biggest power to manifest anything that an individual wishes. In our ancient texts- Vedas also, Mind is being called the kalpvrkish.

There is a story in Hindu Mythology about Mind power or Kalpavrikasha. When Goddess Parvati wanted a daughter in her life to reduce her loneliness, Ashokasundari was created from the wish-fulfilling tree Kalpavriksha.If we analyze it in a practical understanding,Kalpvrkish was not any tree,but it was goddess power of is the power of your mind.

Rahu or Ketu is the planet that amplifies or decreases the quality of Moon. Rahu and ketu are same body and plays the role of a catalyst to the moon. I have seen people with Moon conjunct or aspected by rahu or Ketu did either wonders to their life or blunders to their life.Moon feels either extremely +ve or -ve in Moon Mahadasha or Rahu madasha or ketu mahadasha.

Aishwarya Rai Bachchan become Miss World in Moon Maha Dasha. Her moon also conjuct with Rahu.

Harnaaz Sandhu became Miss Universe because her moon conjunct with ketu in rahu mahadasha.

India PM Narendra Modi became Prime Minister in Moon Mahadasha due to Rahu aspect Moon in his chart.

Sadhguru got enlightened during Moon Maha Dasha because his moon conjunct ketu.

Robin Williams did suicide because his moon conjunct with rahu in Ketu Mahadasha.

Deepika Padukone went into depression because her moon conjunct ketu in rahu mahadasha.

In my more than 10 years of Research and Horoscope analysis, I have seen that most people feel get disturbed due to an afflicted moon.People become stars due to this combination,and people commit suicide or go into depression due to this combination of moon rahu or moon ketu. In the psychology field, it is a fact that human general nature is to think negatively in small things.

As per the law of attraction, this is also true. You attract what yoi think.But during the Moon dasha, rahu dasha or ketu dasha, there is a sudden rise in your negative thoughts, and because of thoughts intensity, things will also start manifesting. If we look at Moon Positive, we can also infer that during these dashas, if we can train ourselves to think positively and believe that, then wonders can happen. Your wishes will start Manifesting for your benefits. Moon dasha, Rahu Dasha or Ketu dasha is the biggest opportunity to pull your Moon upward and to fulfill all the wishes that a person wishes.

So, if you want to do wonders to your life, Moon dasha, Rahu dasha or Ketu dasha are the greatest opportunities for you. There are many remedies to generate belief power in you. To do wonders from the power of your mind(moon), there are few remedies:

Do Sadhna/Meditation of your Diety. Your diety can be seen through your birth chart.

Believe that everything happening in your life is a blessing for you. For example, if a cat crosses the road, believe that everything that is happening is a positive signal for you.

When it comes to your body, believe that your every single cell is very strong. That way, you are commanding the universe to keep yourself fit and to never get ill or if already ill, then to recover fast.

When it comes to your network/friend/colleague circle believe that they are a Blessings for you. Even if they are not doing things according to you. Your believing power will turn this the tables and you will succeed whatever the problems will be or your network circle will start working for your benefits.The same thing applies to your family members i.e wife, mother, father or boss at the workplace, and all other relations.Don't create a future on the basis of what's happening in your present.

Whatever wish you will live with intense emotion and believe, it will surely manifest!!

[zankydraws]

Incredibox is my SHIT bro. Do you have a favorite version, mod, polo, etc?

OH BOY where do i even start kfdgjh words can't describe how good that game is and i just wanna talk about everything i love about it lmao (this ask activated the silly part of my brain)

short answer: my favorite versions are Sunrise, Jeevan and Wekiddy, fave mod is The Last Day and my absolute fave Polos are ASAP Bee and Big Duke

long answer (i'm sorry i need to gush about my bois):

it's hard for me to choose THE Favorite song. Sunrise used to be my number one but then Wekiddy came and tried to take its place xD (i think i might lean towards it, i love the aesthetic, i love the sounds and nothing in V9 is a miss for me, every sound combination is top tier). Jeevan is also absolutely amazing. just *chef's kiss*. but i love every version, they all have something great about them

i love how diverse Sunrise and Wekiddy are in their sounds and designs. Wekiddy also feels a little nostalgic since i love stuff from the 80's/90's (tfw you're nostalgic for the times when you were a toddler or weren't even born yet)

when it comes to mods, i'm generally not super crazy about them, there's a few that i think are very good and i like them a lot but i'm very biased towards the official stuff. which is also why The Last Day and Veda are the ones i like the most (Mr Polo's music is just too good), especially The Last Day. it's awesome. to me it feels like V10 lmao it's so damn professional. everything in that mod sounds good

this babe is my favorite from that mod, all of tumblr and twitter knows i'm silly for the guy dkfgjh

and here's my favorite guys from the official versions :D (i put the guys i love the most in the middle lol)

the moment i saw the silly indian man i burst out laughing and he's been my fave in v3 ever since

not enough slots to show you all of my favorite guys in this song i swear

if you got to the end of this, congratulations, i hope you enjoyed reading it :')

[inspofromancientworld]

Oldest recorded creation myths in the world: 1500 BCE - Hindu creation myth India Created by Brahma, who emerged from the formless chaos and darkness that existed before the beginning. Brahma separated the five elements (earth, water, fire, are, ether) then created living beings, gods, and demons. There was a battle between the gods and demons, which the gods won. The gods then asked Brahma to create humans to worship them as their boon. Humans lacked knowledge when they were created, so Brahma gave them the Vedas so they'd know what rituals to perform. Called the Purusha Sukta Found in the Rigveda

1600 BCE - Eridu Genesis Mesopotamia (incomplete) Created by An, Enlil, Enki, Ninhursag. Enki, the god of wisdom, water, knowledge, crafts, and creation, creates a home for the gods on Earth. Enki sculpts humans from clay and tasks them with serving the gods. Humans multiply and get noisy, annoying the gods. Enki warns Ziusurda to build a boat to save his family, after which, he was gifted eternal life. https://study.com/academy/lesson/eridu-genesis-overview-summary-sumerian-flood-story.html

1300 BCE - Enūma Eliš Mesopotamia Created by Marduk. Tiamat, who embodies chaos and the primordial sea, gives rise to Apsu, the god of groundwater, and Tiamat's consort. They create Lahmu and Lahamu, then they give rise to Anshar and Kishar. Anshar gave rise to Anu (the sky), then Nudimmud (also known as Enki [same as Eridu Genisis] and Ea). They're loud, so Apsu complained to Tiamat and Mummu. Mummu proposed destroying the gods, Tiamat was reluctant. Apsu embraced Mummu. Upon learning about this, Ea created a sleeping spell for Apsu, taking his divinity, then killed him. Apsu's body became the home of the gods. Then Ea and his consort Damkina used Apsu's heart to create Marduk. The other gods complained to Tiamat, and she gathered her forces to attack Ea. Ea heard of Tiamat's plan, though, and sought counsel from Anshar, who advised him to allow Marduk to fight. Marduk defeats Tiamat with a net he was given by Anu, as well as using the seven winds (north, south, east, west, a whirlwind, a cyclone, and Imhullu [the evil wind]), and an arrow. Marduk split Tiamat in two, creating the earth and the sky. Marduk placed the likeness of the gods in the constellations and created a home for Anu, Enlil (the god of wind, air, earth, and storms), and Ea.

3000-1100 BCE - Greek creation myth (from Minoan, Mycenean, and Greek sources) Created by Gaia and Uranus. In the beginning, there was only Nyx, a black-winged bird. She laid an egg that hatched into Eros. Half the shell rose to become the sky and Eros named it Uranus. The other half became the earth, which Eros named Gaia. Eros caused them to fall in love and they had many children, who gave them grandchildren. One child, Kronus, became fearful of the power of the grandchildren, so he swallowed his children, until his wife, Rhea, gave him a rock instead of their last born, Zeus. Zeus killed his father, releasing his siblings, and starting a great war in heaven. The younger generation won, sealing up the older. Zeus's generation set the constellations in Uranus and life on Gaia. Zeus saw that animals and men were missing and told Prometheus and Epimetheus, his sons, to create these creatures, giving each a gift. Prometheus made men and Epimetheus made animals. Epimetheus used all the gifts, so Prometheus gave men fire, angering Zeus. Zeus had Hephaestus create Pandora, who was given a gift from each god, including a jar containing all evils. She is given to Epimetheus, who ignores Prometheus' warnings. Pandora then scatters the evils in her jar, except hope, which is held in by the will of Zeus. https://www.cs.williams.edu/~lindsey/myths/myths_16.html

3100-2686 BCE - Egyptian Creation Myth (Early Dynastic Period) Nu, an infinite, lifeless expanse of water, was all that existed in the beginning. Gradually, a mound of earth called benben emerged and the god Atum appeared on the mound, creating himself by speaking his name. Atum created Shu (air) and Tefnut (moisture). They gave birth to Geb (earth) and Nut (sky). Geb and Nut were lovers, but were separated by Shu, creating space between earth and sky after they gave birth to Osiris (fertility), Isis (motherhood), Set (chaos), and Nephthys (protection). Isis and Osiris gave birth to Horus (the sun). (Exact details vary by location.)

65,000 years ago - Dreamtime Australia The world was created by powerful spiritual beings created the land, sea, and sky. They made mountains, rivers, water holes, rocks, plants, and animals. People were created, given huting tools, land, and totems in their Dreaming, thus the Spirits are the Ancestors from the beginning of time. The Ancestors showed people which places were to be sacred and what rituals to perform and what songs to sing to please the Ancestors. The exact nature of the Ancestors varies from huge snakes to the Wanadjina (cloud and rain spirits).

[talonabraxas]

Sirius, The God/Dog Star Talon Abraxas

Sirius was an object of wonder and veneration to all ancient peoples throughout human history. In the ancient Vedas this star was known as the Chieftain's star; in other Hindu writings, it is referred to as Sukra, the Rain God, or Rain Star. The Dog Star is also described as, "he who awakens the gods of the air, and summons them to their office of bringing the rain."

By the ancient Egyptians, Sirius was revered as the Nile Star, or Star of Isis. Its annual appearance just before dawn at the June 21 solstice, heralded the coming rise of the Nile, upon which Egyptian agriculture depended. This particular helical rising is referred to in many temple inscriptions, wherein the star is known as the Divine Sepat, identified as the soul of Isis.

For example, in the temple of Isis-Hathor at Dedendrah, Egypt, appears the inscription, "Her majesty Isis shines into the temple on New Year's Day, and she mingles her light with that of her father on the horizon." The Arabic word Al Shi'ra resembles the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian names suggesting a common origin in Sanskrit, in which the name Surya, the Sun God, simply means the "shining one."

For up to 35 days before and 35 days after our sun conjuncts the star Sirius ~ close to July 4 ~ it is hidden by the sun’s glare. The ancient Egyptians refused to bury their dead during the 70 days Sirius was hidden from view because it was believed Sirius was the doorway to the afterlife, and the doorway was thought to be closed during this yearly period.

In mythology the dog Sirius is one of the watchmen of the Heavens, fixed in one place at the bridge of the Milky Way, keeping guard over the abyss into incarnation. Its namesake the Dog Star is a symbol of power, will and steadfastness of purpose, exemplifying the initiate who has succeeded in bridging the lower and higher consciousness.

Located just below the Dog Star is the constellation called Argo, the Ship. Astrologically this region in the sky has been known as the River of Stars, gateway to the ocean of higher consciousness.

The Chinese recognized this area as the bridge between heaven and hell ~ the bridge of the gatherer, the judge. In the higher mind are gathered the results of the experiences of the personality.

Between each life the Soul judges its past progress, and also the conditions needed to aid its future growth. As long as it is attached to desire, sensation, and needs experiences, the Soul continues to come into incarnation. Until it is perfected, the Soul cannot pass over, or through, the Bridge.

The association of Sirius as a celestial dog has been consistent throughout the classical world; even in remote China, the star was identified as a heavenly wolf. In ancient Chaldea (present day Iraq) the star was known as the "Dog Star that Leads," or it was called the "Star of the Dog." In Assyria, it was said to be the "Dog of the Sun." In still older Akkadia, it was named the "Dog Star of the Sun."

In Greek times Aratus referred to Canis Major as the guard dog of Orion, following on the heels of its master and standing on its hind legs with alpha star Sirius carried in its jaws. The concept of the mind slaying the real can be seen in the tales which relate the dog as the hunter and killer ~ the hound from hell.

Manilius called Canis Major the "dog with the blazing face." Also called the Large Dog, Sirius appears to cross the sky in pursuit of the Hare, represented by the constellation Lepus under Orion's feet.

Mythologists such as Eratosthenes said that the constellation represents Laelaps, a dog so swift that no prey could escape it. Laelaps had a long list of owners. One story says it is the dog given by Zeus to Europa, whose son Minos, King of Crete, passed it on to Procris, daughter of Cephalus. The dog was presented to Procris along with a javelin that could never miss. Ironically, Cephalus accidentally killed her while out hunting with Laelaps.

Cephalus inherited the dog and took it with him to Thebes, north of Athens, where a vicious fox was ravaging the countryside. The fox was so swift that it was destined never to be caught ~ yet Laelaps the hound was destined to catch whatever it pursued.

Off they went, almost faster than the eye could follow, the inescapable dog in pursuit of the uncatchable fox. At one moment the dog would seem to have its prey within grasp, but could only close its jaws on thin air as the fox raced ahead of it again. There could be no resolution of such a paradox, so Zeus turned them both to stone and placed the dog in the sky without the fox.

In the Chinese tradition, there is a remarkable analogy in the double meaning of the word Spirit and the word Sing (star). Shin and Sing, the Chinese words for soul and essence, are often interchangeable, as they are in the English language.

It is said that the fixed stars, and their domain, contain the essences or souls of matter ... a living soul is a higher essence of matter, and when evolved may also be called a star. These stars and essences become gods.

Like souls, stars are regarded as having divine attributes. Stars look down from regions of chaotic, violent, purity onto the world of humanity and influence the energies of humankind invisibly, yet most powerfully.

[vievieveda]

@thevaaniiofcrirtha:

OPEN STARTER for anyone location ; Kosmos / the grocerer If anyone had told Vanathi the Vaanii two years ago that she'd be selling fruits and vegetables in a magic grocer shop, she would've laughed. Not just laughed, but probably laughed so hard she'd kicked a chair - or perhaps a table - over in her effort to calm herself and to enjoy how ridiculous that sounded. Now, it wasn't even that ridiculous, she loved the work. It was much better than getting killed every month, and then resurrected. Nobody would ever understand the pain of having to take a five hour steaming hot bath just to feel like yourself again... or well, possibly a lot of people did. If not: they were missing out. She placed a new load of freshly conjured purple potatoes in their little crate and greeted the unsuspected bystander. Her toothy smile meant to draw them in, even if at times it seemed like she wanted to hit you over the head with a Withering Watermelon.

"Would you like to sample some of our recently harvested snack cucumbers?"

.

The tavern was not quite as busy during the day as it was in the evenings, making it easier for its owner to take time away from the often bustling location. When Veda had left the warmth of the pub, it wasn't to wander so much as to complete a very specific job. With the Faire upcoming and the arrival of emissaries, vendors seemed to be taking it as a sign that doubling prices would go unnoticed. Nothing went unnoticed to the human, which was precisely why she was out and about on this very fine day. It was that ability to gather secrets that allowed her to 'negotiate' with Blood, Sweat, and Beers vendors into more reasonable pricing.

Considering the nature of some of those secrets, it was easier than Vee was even expecting. She didn't begrudge them for trying to take advantage of the market; but she was not the market. And she refused to be treated as such. Business completed, she was taking a lovely stroll back to Rocheilles when a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Snack cucumbers, Vanathi? Dare I ask what makes them a 'snack' and not a 'meal' vegetable?"