#Red Parrot on the Branch of a Tree

[arinewman7]

Red Parrot on the Branch of a Tree

Ito Jakuchu

color woodblock print, ca. 1905

[meisterdrucke]

Yellow and Red Parrot by Jacques Barraband (hand-coloured engraving)

[barbieaemond]

A snake in the bosom

Moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: Prince Regent Aemond x Lady!reader

WARNINGS: dark Aemond, angst, public humiliation, semi public sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), religious kink, knife kink if you squint, overstimulation, light choking.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Author’s note: House Peake were green loyalists during the Dance. Shout out to @zae5 who helped me brain storming this filth 🫶

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The skies rumble as they always do when preluding a storm. But it’s different this time. The thunder echoes in your chest, sliding through your ribs and then rattling them to break free.

A warning, the Gods’ way to seal what cannot be undone. They greet this new day, this new order, with blinding lightning. The Wood seems bathed by the early morning light, and yet the owls will soon resume their sentry task on the branches of these ancient trees.

A new flash forces you to look up and you think you can see them, the Seven, leaning out from their perches, pointing a finger at a woman like any other, with her bowed head devoted to obedience and her tight corset to choke to death any desire inside her heart.

And you did.

You stopped going to the library, you kept your eyes faithfully down, weeding out the need to caress the silver through your gaze, to feel the cold alabaster carved into angles so precise and sharp as to be exhausting.

You stopped lingering on the delicacy of long white fingers turning pages, on white knuckles around the sword, rippling with veins, blue and green as snakes crawling underneath. 

Not looking didn't do much good.

It's all burned into your eyelids, and the more you don't look the more your mind betrays you like a stab in the back, evoking slender hands and an arched mouth that lazily pulls itself up into an omniscient smirk.

It happens so often that you've come to terms with it. Desire is a shadow that follows you step by step, crawls into your bed as you lie with your husband, makes you close your eyes as you peak and in the darkness that shadow is finally flesh, pulsing and weighing on you, but it is not.

It shouldn’t and it will never.

The lightning tells you can no longer hide, there is no way to stall now, no way to trick the King about the allegiance of your family. It is easy to fool a fool, more so when he’s willing to make himself one in front of a woman. But the King is burned. His cries of pain can be heard outside Maegor’s Holdfast, until the Maesters are merciful enough to give him milk of the poppy.

The throne is empty, the Kingdom has no ruler. But the Gods are snickering with thrill and dread.

Not for long.

“My lady, there’s a storm coming.”

You turn and see your maid clutching a cloak to her chest to shelter from the wind. "Please, you should go back inside.”

You nod tiredly, walking on the thick grass, dragging yourself back within these walls in which days seem to pass following two different times.

There’s the real, urgent one, a military up and down of whispers and promises, pawns moving and ravens coming and going, breaking or forging alliances as easy and quick as their wings flapping. And then there’s your time, dilated, obscenely slow, like molasses. It sticks to your fingers, prevents you from picking up ink and parchment and write, cheat, whisper what you have easily spilled from the worn out lungs of your husband.

“Men sing like parrots in their final throes, remember that. They’d tell you anything when they think with their cock.”

Samantha had been right. But your sister is playing her game in Oldtown and Old Town is not the Red Keep. There are no eyes on the walls there, or ears behind the portraits. There’s no shadow trailing on her path, clouding her mind enough to look away from the game. A game of life and death, your father reminded you in his last letter, the scolding clear in the way the feather had pierced the parchment in some points. The answer was nowhere but in your head, and you were too ashamed to even confess it to a Septa, let alone put it on paper. There’s a snake crawling in your garden of lies and instead of chasing it away, you’re nursing it in your bosom.

You slow your steps upon glimpsing your husband. He’s striding towards you along the corridor. There’s a slight furrow between his brows, one that you have been able to recognize on the faces of many within this fortress. But it's more severe now, or maybe it's just that shadow that makes you see a new man, a stranger.

Has his hair always been that dull and mousy? Has his posture always been so unassuming?

They have since that night in the library, the sin whispers.

“Husband.”

“I’ve been looking for you. We have been summoned to the throne room.”

“Is something the matter? Is the King—"

"The King lives. But the Maesters believe it is best to confine him to bed. Come, Prince Aemond is waiting for us." he grabs your arm and you walk with him, glad that he can’t see the shadow falling on your face at the mention of the King’s brother.

The throne room is so dark that servants are hurrying themselves to light more candles. Every now and then a new lightning flashes from the large windows, making the Iron Throne an eerie sight at the center of the Hall.

There are a few Lords of the court with their ladies, and they seem just as lost as you as they see you and your husband halting before the ancient seat.

Whereas not more than a moon ago, Lords and Ladies would have had to wait hours to be received by Aegon, the new ruler is not long in coming.

The huge doors open and Aemond Targaryen stalks the room carrying the same storm breaking outside. He makes a striking figure, ominous; the lighting pours on his long silver hair making them look like moon rays.

A dreamy picture, were it not for the conqueror's crown on his head and the sapphire in plain sight.

It is the first time you see him without the eyepatch, the first time anyone has seen him without it. They said he wore it so as not to frighten the ladies, but the one-eyed Prince is done hiding. And if fear is all he can muster, so be it. It serves him well for what will come.

He halts before the Iron Throne and takes a good look at the little gathering. You can’t help but trail your eyes on his lean and tall figure, wearing a dark green doublet made of velvet. But it’s the sapphire that catches your eye, and the long scar marring his marbled face.

You remember that one. You remember it shamefully clear while disappearing along with his head beneath your gown.

“My lords” he starts lacing his hands behind his back “As you may know, my brother is in no condition to rule. Thus, according to the law, in case of physical or mental incapacity of the sovereign, the younger brother must bear the weight of the crown.”

There is a shy, almost uneasy passing of glances between those present, but Aemond ignores them altogether. “I will not style myself as King. You will address me as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm."

Silence falls upon the huge Hall until a loud thunder seem to awaken one of the lords who hurriedly bends his knee before the Prince. "My Prince, I renew my absolute loyalty to you and your—“

"Get up, my Lord, I did not summon you to hear you pledge your loyalty.” He says in a bored tone, darting his eye at the man “Rest assured, if I had any doubt about it, Vhagar would be feasting on your corpse as we speak.”

Silence falls once more and Aemond revels in it. He can smell fear, just like the creature he rides. “But you did raise an interesting subject.” he tilts his head and looks at Lord Peake, your husband, with a benevolent expression stretching on his face. “Lord Peake, if I asked you to pledge your loyalty to me and my family, would you do it?”

You dare not to raise your head, keeping your eyes glued to the ground, but you can sense your husband’s uneasiness, the sound close to one being insulted as he addresses the Prince. “Prince Aemond, my loyalty to your Grandsire and the Dowager Queen has never wavered and it never shall.”

The Prince nods slowly, seemingly pleased by the answer, and keeps his gaze down for a few moments before casting a sharp glance at you. You can’t see it but you can feel it.

“That is very noble of you, Lord Peake. But I can’t help but wonder, is your lady wife of the same mind as you?”

Lord Peake looks puzzled, shifting the weight on his feet “My Prince, my wife is—”

“No.” Aemond cuts him off, darting a single look at the Lord before returning on you “Let her speak.”

With a deep breath, you look up, shrinking under his violet eye and the sapphire ominously glinting of his own light. “My prince, I am saddened that your Grace would think I’m nothing but loyal to your brother, the one and only heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Every day, I pray the Gods to heal him from his burns and give him strength to—”

“Hush.” He says, raising a hand to stop you. “That’s enough.”

You shut your mouth nervously, tensing all the more as he looks at you, unblinking, for a long moment before his lips stretch into a slow, cunning smirk.

“You know, I spoke to your distant cousin once, Lord…something Tyrell. He said something very interesting to me.”

You keep a blank face even when dread starts to run down your spine. Despite the distant kinship, there’s always been bad blood between Tarlys and Tyrells. 

“He said to be very careful with Tarly women. Pretty vapid things, he said, hiding a viper’s bite.”

“I am neither my prince.” you state calmly “I’m just a woman like any other, serving my husband, my house, my King.”

“Hmm.” He ponders, the smile lingering still. Then, he picks something form his pocket and asks “What is this then?”

Despite the darkness, you could recognize that seal with eyes closed. And that seal, now, in this room, clutched by Prince Aemond’s fingers, is a death sentence.

“This is not the seal of House Peake.” he rightly says.

You look down, mustering your courage, and say “No, your Grace. That is just a silly token of love between two sisters. I use it to send ravens to my sister in Oldtown.”

“I see. And why do you hide it?”

“I do not, your Grace.”

“Lying to the King may cost your head, my Lady. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Wife…” your husband takes your arm, searches your face with an anxious stare “What is going on?”

“The White cloaks found it.” The Prince informs him “when I made them search your rooms.” He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow “For a token you’re supposed to be so fond of, I may suggest placing it somewhere else than the bottom of an old trunk.”

“Am I on trial for sending letters to my sister?”

“Yes. Considering the circumstances under which these ravens were sent. Ladies give letters to their maids, they do not go personally to the rookery, more so in the hour of the bat.”

Courage leaves you like a gust of wind. You thought you had been clever, careful. Why would anyone take notice of a court lady simply taking a walk in the early hours? And even if they had, they would have dismissed the thought at the first distraction. But not him.

“You think I would not notice? I may be half blind but I can assure you, my lady, I see everything.”  He throws the seal on the ground and resumes his soldier-like posture, standing tall and domineering with his arms laced back. “What did you tell your sister? Knowledge about our war plans? Are you secretly siding with the Blacks? I’d advise you to choose your words carefully. From them depends whether you’ll see the next dawn or not.”

Your shoulders slump a little, like a doomed creature sticking its head in the noose.

“My father asked me to spy on my husband to gather knowledge about the green army at Rook’s Rest. But I did not send any raven. I stopped since—"

“Since what? Do continue, my lady, I think your Lord husband is keen to know why his wife stopped playing him like a fool.” He leans his head forward, like someone desperately willing to hear a big secret, but your tongue is a dead thing in your mouth.

“No?” he inquires as silence stretches “Fine, I’ll tell you. You see, Lord Peake, recently your Lady wife seemed to have developed a sudden interest in the library.” the prince says with a little grin “I’m aware of this because I am myself an avid reader. In fact, your lady wife and I have been keeping each other company lately. A rather…intimate company.”

Some of the ladies start to whisper at your back, and you know what kind of words they’re labeling you.

“Wife.” Your husband calls, and this time his voice is steel “What is the meaning of this?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure whether it is worse to tell your husband how you’ve played him or to confess your sin.

“Come, don't deny it now.” the Prince goads you “All the hours you've spent, all those late nights did bear fruit, did they not? You've betrayed your house and the Crown, yet what sweetness it was to have gotten a taste, I'm sure your husband would agree.”

Lord Peaks looks utterly bewildered, shifting his gaze between you and the Prince like a dead fish.

“Oh, so he hasn't after all.” Aemond laughs “A pity, for your treacherous essence reeks of the most bittersweet nectar. Tart, but delicious.”

Your husband’s face is whiter than a sheet for a moment, followed by a red veil of anger and shame. The latter is in plain sight in the way you keep your head down; the Gods have stopped pointing their finger at you and left you in the claws of a much crueler creature. Namely, your own desire.

 “Search her.” Aemond orders returning to a stern face “And search her thoroughly.”

“My prince?” asks one of the guards.

“Women can be sneaky with all those veils and layers. Lose the corset.”

The cloaks look at him puzzled, just as you and your husband and anyone else in the room, but the guards know better than to disobey the King. 

One of them goes to stand behind you and starts pulling the laces of your dress, another is busying himself with lowering your sleeves.

Your eyes bore to the ground with the purest humiliation as your chest gradually grows exposed. You could raise your hands to hide your breast, but you have nothing to hide, not anymore.

You know it and Aemond knows too. He’s not doing this because he thinks you’re hiding something. He’s doing so for his own pleasure—to see you bare, to finally make you come out of your den and stop hiding from him. 

You dare not look at him but you can feel his eye lingering on you, on your body; you can sense the ghost of a delighted smirk on that wicked mouth. 

He takes an unreasonably long time before he gives a short nod to the guards, at last satisfied with your public humiliation. What drives your husband to move is not regard for you, but for his own dignity. What are women if not property of men? And however ruined you are now, Lord Peake will not have talk of his wife standing with her breasts out in the Throne Room.

But just as he leans down to you, the Prince speaks “You may go, Lord Peake. All of you.”

The Lord stalls, looking lost at his Prince.

“You can wait outside. She stays.” Aemond commands.

His eye is boring into you as he walks down the few steps with leisure, lingering on the sole of his boot before resting it on the ground. “She needs to learn the price of her disobedience.”

Your husband hesitates, looks at you with lingering disdain and a veil of fear that keeps his eyes wide open, but he can only bow his head.

When you’re left alone the Prince, save for the guards on the four sides of the hall, you dare to look up and see his eye blazing, a cunning edge to it.

He starts circling around you, and what’s left of your dignity makes your hands fly up to cover your chest.

“You said you stopped writing to your sister. And you stopped coming to the library.” he starts with a collected and calm voice. “Why?”

“You know why.” you mutter.

“You better drop this condescending tone if you want to leave this room with your head on your shoulders.”

“Apologies, my Prince. I did not mean to offend you. But I dim you wise enough to understand why I thought it was best to keep my distance from you.”

He stops his circling for a moment “Enlighten me.” and then he’s pacing again.

You swallow, smelling ashes and smoke on his trail. “It was a sin.”

“Hmm. Which one?” He asks somewhere behind you. Out the corner of your eye, you see him slightly leaning towards you, silver rolling past his shoulder as he cocks his head to one side “Your betrayal or the fact that you let me feast on your cunt like a common whore?”

You swallow again. Shame is still coiling in your belly, but there’s also something else on hearing those words coming from his mouth, recalling that night. This man has just humiliated you in front of the court and yet you crave for him to get closer.

“Both.”

“Both?”

“I did not want to.” You say and it’s true. And this, this is the last chance you might have to avoid the pike, or worse, Vhagar’s fangs. “My father forced me.” You say turning your head left and right as he resumes his pacing behind you “I don’t know which kind of deal he has struck with Prince Daemon but I swear it, my Prince, I said nothing about Rook’s Rest, I—“

The word dies on your tongue along with your breath as you feel the coldness of a sharp blade against your throat.

“I should slit your throat here and now.” He whispers dangerously, you can hear his teeth gritting. His arm is pressing on your chest, keeping you locked against him. “What else Lord Tarly ordered you in all his great wisdom? Mh? To seduce me? To play me like a fool, like you played my brother and your husband to gather knowledge about our armies and report it to my uncle and his whore?”

“No, I—" you try to say, but he presses the blade firmer and you choke a gasp, unconsciously grabbing his arm.

“You will speak when I say so.” He seethes, pulling your arm back with his other hand, painfully twisting your bone until a moan of pain escapes your mouth.

It awakens something inside him, something savage that makes him collide his body against yours “Hmm.” He coos darkly in your ear “This brings me back to that night.”

He swiftly twirls the dagger, sheathing the Valyrian steel, but his hand is quick to resume his caging, sliding on your half-covered breast, looking down your shoulders at your bare chest.

His fingers are cold as they slowly travel up, but they lick flames on your skin, making your nipples harden. “Do you remember, little snake? I do.” he runs the tip of his finger on the hard sensitive skin and you whimper softly “It was hard to forget the sounds you made.” He speaks to your neck, his breath scorching “I could hear them when I fucked my hand at night. You made me sin so many times. Was that part of the plan too? Did your father force you to moan my name while you peaked on my tongue?”

“Please…” you sob quietly, feeling fire nestling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his bulge against your lower back.

“Do you moan like that when your husband fucks you? Mh?”

He wants an answer, and he pinches one of your nipples when you don’t please him.

“No…”

“No? I thought so.”

Your body reacts on his own, clenching for how his voice in your ear pools like liquid fire below your stomach. You can see his delighted smirk out of the corner of your eye. “You better speak now, little one. Not even the Gods can save you from the spike. Why would they? They turn their backs on traitors and sinners. And you dared to sin with a Kinslayer. You have only me to beg for mercy.”

“You don’t want to kill me.” You choke when his hand laces around your throat.

He would’ve done it already. He might still do it, but his pressing hardness on your back tells you otherwise.

“No. I have a better use for you.” he says squeezing your neck “I will make an example out of your treacherous mouth. They will look at you and be reminded of the mercy of my crown.”

He steps back and you have little time to catch your breath as he sits on the Iron Throne with the confidence of a God on his perch. The candles mix with lightnings, making the blue of the sapphire and the obsidian of the crown shimmer in a disturbing way.

He rests his arms along the forged swords, his long legs almost sprawled out on the ground. “Come and pledge your loyalty, my lady.”

Your heart hammers in your throat as you swallow. This is a game of life or death, but not now. Your two times have merged into a perpetual dizziness and you’re sinking into the claws of your desire like quicksand.

“No.” he admonishes with a voice like honey when you dare a step closer “On your knees. Like the sinner you are.”

You sink to the ground and his eye goes down with you, smirking with something savage flashing on his face. “Go ahead.” He says spreading his legs around you. “Take your blessing.”

You raise your hands slowly, close to his belt but when you start unbuckling it you find there’s no tremor in your fingers. And he’s too quick to notice. “You wanted this, do you?” he asks “Did you close your eyes and pretend to suck my cock instead of your husband’s?”

The buckles clink together as you finish the unbuckling but he suddenly leans over you, gripping your cheeks with a hold of iron.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” You quickly, shamefully say.

The left edge of his mouth pulls up tiredly, omnisciently. “How? Like this?” In a blink his long fingers breach your mouth, hitting the back of your throat until you choke on them. He pulls them back just slightly, grazing your tongue, and he looks at you with a lustful blaze in his eye.

“Suck.” he orders, and you oblige, keeping your eyes on him as your mouth close around his two fingers, sucking gently and twirling your tongue around the skin.

“Hmm.” He croons with pleasure, leaving your mouth abruptly to lean back against the throne, sliding a little on the ancient seat to push his crotch before you. He makes haste of pulling his cock out, giving it a few tugs while he keeps looking at you, at the longing darkening your eyes and wetting your gowns.

You take hold of his hard hot length, all veiny and leaking from the tip and it’s only natural for you to close your lips around it. You have obscenely dreamed of this.

He lets out a loud gasp, gripping the throne with his hands as your head goes down, taking him all in. It hits the back of your throat with a lewd choking sound; you breathe through your nose, resuming your holy punishment once you have adjusted to length and girth, sucking hard and fast.

"Greedy little thing.” He praises with his eye growing heavy with pleasure “Easy. Easy, now.” he goads you to slow down, and you do, looking up to see him watching you closely, his lips parted, his breath slow and puffed.

“Fuck—” he curses, titling his head back but keeping his eye fixed on you. “See? This is the only good use for your cheating mouth. And you look so pretty.”

The ache between your legs is unbearable, you’re swollen and wet, you can feel your undergown dampening.

“Are you soaked for me, hmm? I bet you’re dripping all over the Conqueror’s swords.”

You have no way to answer as you keep bobbing your head up and down, a sinner worshipping her own sin.

“Open your mouth—wide” he orders and you do, drooling all over him as he starts to thrust harshly in your mouth.

“Yes. Like this, yes—fuck” He pumps in and out, bucking his hips, hitting your throat on and on while he moans helplessly and loudly, as only a King on his throne can.

“Hollow your cheeks.” And when you do it, something snaps inside him. He grabs your hair, pulling at the roots painfully while he keeps fucking your mouth frantically, choking your breath. But you don’t mind. This could be your last day, your last hour breathing. The snake is sucking at your bones and you welcome the poison.

“Enough.” he croaks when he was starting to breathe too fast, too close to the end. “Get up.”

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up but he’s so quick in lifting up your skirts and grabbing your waist to make you turn and sit on his lap, facing the Throne Room. The Guards are exactly where they’re supposed to be, blind and deaf to what they can perfectly see and hear.

“Let me give you my blessing, now.” Aemond says spreading your legs on the throne, making you wince as you feel his hot fingertips on your wet aching folds. “You’re soaked.” he states proudly, smiling with victory next to your ear.

He draws lazy circles on your bundle, sliding down your dripping lips, slowly, too slowly. You buck your hips against his hand and his chuckle travels up and down inside you, rattling your bones like thunder.

“Please…” you cry when his fingers brush your swollen lips once more.

“I should summon back your husband. So he’d see how his pretty wife begs to be fucked by her Prince like a whore. Shall I?”

You grab his hand, pressing it to your core and he dips a finger inside, spilling a loud moan from you that makes him bite your ear as he feels your hot walls clenching around him.

“Fine. We shall let him hear it.”

He brings his soaked fingers to your mouth, sticking them inside to make you taste yourself, and then he takes your wrist, trapping it on your stomach with his hand. He easily slides his cock inside you, moaning along with you into the haunting silence of the hall. His thrusts are deep and quick, desire has consumed him too, for too long. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh are only barely muffled by your frantic gasps. Your eyes are closed in a painful bliss, his hot labored breath dampens your neck as he fills you to the hilt.

Your throat is sore with lack of air as you turn your head and he slams his mouth against yours, filling your mouth with his scorching tongue, biting your lip and sucking until it’s swollen. All of this while relentlessly rutting into you, giving you violent bursts of pleasure that make your moans high-pitched and loud, so loud that everyone outside these walls can hear them. Your husband will hear them, the guards are definitely doing so.

“Fucking Gods, you feel so good” He pants in your mouth “You really wanted this. Your cunt is squeezing my cock like a vice. That husband of yours never fucked you this good, did he?”

“Gods—” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut but he grabs your chin with his free hand, forcing you to turn your head. “The Gods cannot hear you now. They’re deaf to the pleas of sinners.” with his free hand he clutches your bundle and he starts to torture you, drawing fast circles, while his length keeps rutting harshly. “Lucky for you I’m more merciful than the Gods.”

The tension in your belly is unbearable, it makes you cry obscenely and the sound only pushes him to go harder, faster.

“Please—I—I can’t—Gods—”

“You can’t what? Mh?” he nothing but growls, thrusting once more and then again. “This is your retribution.” He says baring his teeth “You failed your family for this. You lied and cheated. Now fucking—take—it” his last words punctuated with three deeper thrusts that make you whimper and roll your eyes back.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your peak, letting out a long moan matched with sloppy shakes of your body against his. But he doesn’t stop, chasing his own pleasure as you whimper and sob with overstimulation. His hand keeps moving on your apex, all sticky with your pleasure and you grip his arm, trying to stop him. “Please—I can’t take it anymore—please my Prince—"

“You can and you will.” He promises “Give me one more. Come on, little traitor, just one more.”  

You’re not late in granting his wish, trembling all over him and curling your toes with spasms in your muscles.

He groans loudly beneath you, teeth clamping down your shoulder and he stills completely, coming inside you with a choked sound of relief vibrating from his throat.

You whimper softly, feeling him pulsing inside you, but he grabs your waist and forces you to stand up. You waver on your weak feet, his hand is around your arm but only to firmly push you away from him. Falling on the ground, you look up to see him fixing his breeches, hair all disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Guards.” He says hoarsely, catching his breath, and two white cloaks stand at attention, their faces blank, pretending to be oblivious to what they have just witnessed. “Take her to my chambers and have the maid give her moon tea.”

Then he looks down at you, his face is wild and yet viciously focused. “We’re going to find a way to send your husband back to Starpike.” He says grazing your lips with his long fingers. “You’re not leaving my chambers anytime soon. In the time being,” his hand grips your mouth harshly, his voice eerily calm “You will write to Oldtown in your own hand, and ask my uncle to send me the head of Samantha Tarly.”

You widen your eyes with terror and he smiles, sweet and poisonous. “And remember, little snake. If I find you near the rookery at odd hours again, I will cut your throat in your sleep. Such a waste it would be. I’d rather have you choking on my cock than your own blood.”

He leaves without another word and you’re left on the ground. You can’t beg mercy to the Gods now, you will have to beg for his and his alone.

thank you so much for reading!! 💕

[saiintvalentiine]

HTFF Chapter 1.5

hi. this is like..... a missing scene from how to featherfall. before it became just Wifies POV, I was going to rotate through different POVs but I found it really difficult and unsatisfying to write so I scraped the other POVs.

however! I have what constitutes as most of a chapter from Parrot's POV set immediately after the end of chapter 1. in chapter 3 he mentions that Wifies popped a few totems, and this chapter would have shown the first one :)

Important notes:

This goes without saying, but this won't make sense if you haven't read at least chapter 1 of how to featherfall.

There is a section that's just missing and filled instead with my A/N where I'm screaming. that's part of the experience. it's also unedited. that's also part of the experience.

I really am not that satisfied with the writing in this. Zam and Wemmbu are here and honestly I completely botched them. sorry in advance.

Warnings for gore! It's sprinkled throughout so unlike chapter 2 where you can skip it, here it's unavoidable.

There's a sub-200 word Ken POV set right after this that I just won't post because it's so pathetically short but it exists, so if it feels like this trails off strangely at the end, that's why

anyway, I think that's it. enjoy this little. . . chapter 1.5? divider

Wordcount: 1,712

Wifies has never made a noise like that. Never, ever, ever, not once, not in the hundreds of times he's been stabbed or trapped, the dozens of totems he's popped from shots through the head or axes through his limbs— never. He's so quiet in his pain that Parrot worries sometimes that Wifies will just slip away from him, unheard, and Parrot won't know until it's too late. Now he knows that Wifies slipping away is a horrifying sound. It's like listening to an animal’s death rattle. It's like he's been split open. Like he's been pulled apart.

Wemmbu’s expression cracks, blatant fear and concern breaking through their usual charade. When Parrot leaves him to find Wifies, he’s greeted with Zam's limp arms and blank stare. Whatever just happened, Parrot knows Zam didn't mean it. Zam likes their games just as much as Wifies usually does, just differently, the subterfuge and arguments and drama fueling him. But he likes Wifies— they all like Wifies and his dry humor and his level headed persuasion and his stilted, earnest affections.

Wifies is hanging from a tree, left wing pierced through by three different tree branches. He’s stopped screaming, instead shaking and trying to pry himself off of the branches before going terrifyingly limp just as Parrot reaches him. Zam wordlessly pulls out an axe from his inventory as Parrot wraps his arms around Wifies’s middle and lifts him up to ease the pressure off his back. Zam starts to chop off the branches, and all Parrot can think of is how he's going to get this armor off of Wifies.

Wemmbu appears with a totem in hand, hesitating for a moment before taking one of Wifies's hands and wrapping his fingers around it, tucking the tight cuff of Wifies's sweater on the lower bit so it won't fall out.

“Just in case,” he murmurs to no one.

Parrot appreciates it. Zam cuts through the final branch and all of Wifies's weight lands on Parrot. Zam is holding the very top of Wifies's wing, trying to ease it closer without irritating it.

“We need to cut through this chest plate,” Parrot says. “There's no way we can move his wing to take it off normally.”

Zam offers his axe, and Wemmbu takes it, struggling to find a notch on the metal that'll let him cut through the netherite. Once he does manage to slice away enough to pull the back of it out, though, his face pales.

“That's a whole metal bar,” Wemmbu says in a choked voice. “That's— what the fuck is this?”

This is about an inch of a thick, red iron bar pulled straight out of Wifies's back, the base of his left wing attached to it through what looks like screws and layers of silvery scar tissue. The wing-holes of his sweater let them see that it’s been ripped right out of Wifies’s back, a gaping wound that's pouring out more blood than Parrot can comprehend. 

Parrot holds Wifies closer with his left arm, touching the exposed metal with a shaking finger. It's slick with blood and still warm.

The totem in Wifies's hand pops. They all startle at the noise of it, and Parrot can't stop looking at how the broken skin and muscle starts to pull together, metal shuddering violently as it's pushed and pulled too and fro, like it can't decide if the metal is invasive or belongs. It reseals around the exposed metal, leaving the wing at an awkward angle.

“Nooo,” Wifies moans weakly into Parrot’s ear. “No, no, no. . .”

Zam pulls out a totem from his inventory and hands it over to Wemmbu. Wemmbu shakily repeats the process of getting Wifies to hold onto it, though this time Wifies grips it with a faint sigh.

“Wifies,” Parrot whispers, at a loss for what to do. “What. . . ?”

“What happened?” Wifies slurs. He can't seem to move his weight off of Parrot, though his twitching legs are clearly trying.

“There's metal,” Parrot says dumbly.

Wifies tenses, right wing ruffling and left just jittering inertly.

“No,” he says again and again. “No, no, no, no, no, it's out, it's out isn't it?”

“It’s— there's like, like an inch of metal sticking out of the left side of your back,” Parrot says, stained hand still hovering over it.

“That's too much to put back,” Wifies says. “Gotta, gotta rip it out for the next trial—”

His fever. Wifies still has a fever. Parrot scrambles to pull Wifies’s helmet off and toss it away, pressing his cheek to Wifies's forehead. He's burning, twice as hot as this morning, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“Rip it out?” Zam says faintly. He looks like he's going to be sick.

“Rip it out,” Wifies replies. “Rip it out, means the scapula is too damaged, ‘s no good anymore, trial failed.”

“What is he talking about Parrot,” Wemmbu says. He also looks like he's going to be sick.

“I don't know.”

Wemmbu and Zam are looking to him to salvage this situation, but Parrot feels nauseous and lost. He thought Wifies’s wings were organic, that maybe he couldn't fly because of some kind of muscle issue or psychosomatic symptoms. Not— whatever the fuck is happening now.

“Parrot,” Wifies says, voice slurring. “I have no idea what to do. I've never survived getting them out.”

What the fuck is Parrot supposed to do?

“Someone call Ken,” Parrot blurts out, and Wemmbu whips into action.

“Ken’s gonna kill meeeee,” Wifies mutters. “Told me to take care of it.”

He goes limp again, and Zam checks on the totem.

“Uh,” Ken’s voice is tinny over Wemmbu’s comm speaker. “Can I help you?”

“Wifies’s wing just, uh, exited his body,” Wemmbu says. “It’s— there's a lot of blood.”

Ken curses and something heavy sounding hits wood. There's scrambling, then catastrophic noise that feels appropriate to the inside of Parrot’s brain.

“Just— keep him alive, please,” Ken says, voice strained. “I'll— I can fix it, I think, just keep him alive til I get there.”

Ken hangs up, and then it's the four of them again in the morning light. Ken can fix it. Parrot has to believe in him.

“Let's lay him down inside, head in and get all the stuff off of the living room floor,” Parrot says.

With direction now, Zam speeds off with Wemmbu close behind. Parrot struggles for a minute, but manages to wrangle Wifies up further onto his shoulder without agitating his torn wing. He’s careful as he walks into their house, hand still warm with blood and viscera.

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA]

Ken arrives in a flurry of movement, fur and feathers standing on end. He’s already pale, but looking at Wifies turns him sheet white.

“Fuck,” he says, then turns to Wemmbu and Zam and says, “You two need to leave. Sorry. Get out.”

“What?” Wemmbu says.

“Get out, get out, last thing we need is two more cooks in the kitchen,” and Ken flinches at his own words, waving his hand as if to wipe them out of the air. “Listen, just— I need you to leave. Wifies might kill himself if I don't insist.”

“What the fuck,” Parrot mutters, watching as Ken pushes Zam and Wemmbu out of the house and locks the door behind them.

“Wifies trusts you, and I'm gonna have to trust you too,” Ken says as he slams obsidian in front of the door and pulls out a file folder from his inventory.

“Trust me with what?”

“His life.”

It’s such a dramatic thing for Ken to say, so over the top it’s almost comical, but then he’s pinning sheets of paper onto the dark wood of their walls and Parrot’s nausea doubles. It’s charts and diagrams and— fuck, sometimes pictures, surgical and bloodied, and Parrot doesn’t know where to look when everything is violation and gore. Ken collapses across from him on Wifies’s other side, and starts to tear through his sweater with shears.

“Ken, explain something,” Parrot chokes out. “Anything, please.”

“Wifies’s wings are installed, not grown. They're installed poorly. If one of them exits the body, the whole system has to go.”

Ken sounds so. . . unlike himself. The words sound foreign, practiced, like he's heard them somewhere else and is only repeating them.

“Wifies told you that,” Parrot realizes suddenly. “He knew the whole time they were dangerous didn't he?”

“He left me a kit,” Ken says stiffly. “Just in case something happened. Asked me if I would be okay with having to do something like this.”

The sweater and shirt disappear bit by bit, and Parrot sees the network of gnarled scar tissue on Wifies’s back for the first time. His broken (extracted? He isn't sure what to call it) wing is surrounded by puckered skin from the totem pop, but there's a— a track of scars. Two go from the top of his shoulders down to his mid back. Another two connect the ends of those scars. A single wide scar bisects at an equal distance between those. And then, from the top of his spine all the way down to his waist is a single, inelegant cut that looks large enough to pluck out his vertebrae. Three vertical, three horizonal, like some kind of fucked up version of the rule of thirds.

“God,” Parrot says, and then again, “God,” but he helps Ken toss away the scraps of fabric and looks at the wall of papers for guidance.

“I just need to get the wings out,” Ken mutters, clearly trying to convince himself that he can. “Everything else can stay. The wings, and the fastening mechanisms. That's it. Those are two things on each side, so it’s only four things.”

“We can do that,” Parrot says. “Just four things right? We can do that.”

“We can do that,” Ken repeats, and then the shears are swapped out with a thin, sharp scalpel. “We’ll have to do that.”

Parrot reaches over and holds Wifies's damaged wing away from Ken so he has more space to work with.

“We can do this,” Parrot says, putting every ounce of hope and confidence he can muster into his voice.

Ken’s hand flexes over the handle of the blade and he nods.

“We can do this.”

[mindblowingscience]

Kākāpō are avid walkers, wandering on strong legs for miles at a time and hiking up mountains to find mates. They’re keen climbers too, clambering up New Zealand’s 65-foot-high rimu trees on large claws to forage for red berries on the tips of the conifer’s branches. But there’s one thing that the world’s heaviest parrot species can’t do: fly. With their bulky frames—males weigh up to nine pounds—and waddling gait, they have little chance of outrunning predators like stoats and feral cats. When threatened, the nocturnal parrots freeze, relying on their moss-green feathers to act as camouflage.

Continue Reading.

[jeannereames]

Master of Battles...teasers

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

From @nemainofthewater The word for the next round is FEAST.

So, I’m going to have a little fun and share with you some excerpts from my current series, Master of Battles. Even better, as the word has five letters, I’ll choose one excerpt from EACH of the 5 completed novels in the series. (Book 6 is still in process.)

Two caveats: as the series is not sold yet, much less in the editing process, what you see here might differ from any final version (up to and including book titles).

Second, perhaps obviously, all of these are copyrighted material. Consider them teasers.

Love any feedback in comments.

From Master of Battles, Book 1, The Oriole

(I’m cheating just a tad here, as the second line of the novel starts with an /f/, so I’m bracketing the first line but including it….)

[Heart hammering, Otteutákhwa ran for his life.]

Five of the city guard scrambled after, stud-soled sandals aclatter on cobblestone, a bright-brass drumming that called “capture.” If they caught up, they’d drag him back to jail, which would, eventually, return him to Shishiíkwia.

He’d rather die.

From Master of Battles, Book 2, Green-mantle Bird Clan

Equal parts honored and terrified, Suwatha stood on the most hallowed place in all of Four Rivers.

The Sacred Isle.

Clouds fashioned a rolling haze, diffusing sunlight, so the elaborately carved arboreal buildings of the Holy City appeared then vanished in mist as Suwatha and her twin Skanyo were led along hanging wooden bridges. Phosphorescent vines braided handrails and slid beneath floor planks, making yellow-green and red trails through the cloud forest. Water rushed down cliff faces to which plants clung: fluffy ferns, delicate purple orchids, and huge white spider flowers with long cerise stamens like curling tongues. Birds piped clear and high over a constant purr of insects, and the air was heavy with moisture, more mist than sprinkle. Pathway lamps wreathed in fog stretched into the distance, a fuzzy yellow line rising as clouds filled the valley bowl, brushed on top by the sun’s pink and gold. She spotted a few hummingbirds, beryl and carnelian, amethyst and lapis zipping past almost too fast to see. Gnarled trees grew in thick clumps anywhere a plateau or ledge could be found. Now and then, branches would thin enough for Suwatha to see the parrot-blue sea far below.

She’d grown up in Yú-nawa Tewáleyu—Hundred Falls—the largest Longhouse city, arguably the largest in all of Four Rivers. She was used to impressive buildings, grandeur in scenery, and a bustle of people at all tree levels. Yet the Holy City invoked pure awe: ethereal, ancient, and serene.

From Master of Battles, Book 3, Great Blue Heron

As they entered the harbor under a halo of pale mist, no major engagement greeted them. Ision’s infantry occupied the dock, forming a long line of locked shields, eight-men deep. No one seemed to be down. It looked like parade formation.

Had Shishiίkwia permitted them to gain a beachhead unopposed?

Unbelievable.

What did the witch want so badly that he��d risk his entire army to get it?

From Master of Battles, Book 4, The Piasa

“Shhh,” he said. “Shhh.” It was the voice from [Suwatha’s] childhood when she’d been scared in the night, the big brother come to comfort her and Skanyo. She ceased fighting.

Cautious, those who’d dropped to knees got up. The half-finished sacrifice lay forgotten on the altar, everyone’s attention riveted by Ision-as-Piasa arrowing towards a scoop in the eastern slope: no doubt the flat area where Nowoko and Kuluana had made their wheel. A haze seemed to bloom around it despite the brightness of late morning. Roaring in defiance, Piasa pierced right through, rolling the mist to either side. Immediately, it flowed back together to flood after him. Suwatha clutched a hand at her throat, tail curling and uncurling. Nagwē kept a hold of her, as if afraid she might try to bolt again, but common sense had returned. How could she possibly help in a supernatural battle?

And, One Foretold or not, how could he fight cannibal spirits?

For surely that was what swarmed around him, materializing more fully as a gray cloud. His wings beat the air, driving himself up, up. At this distance, he was little more than a red-gold speck against sun glare, the cannibal spirits occluding his form like an oncoming eclipse.

Abruptly, the fog exploded outward and away from him, leaving him free, wings spread against the yellow sun behind, head lifted and mane streaming.

The fog seemed somehow diminished. Not gone but diminished. Diving, he chased after.

And it fled.

From Master of Battles, Book 5, The Peacock Throne

Teo felt cold seep into his bones. “Will they kill him? When they find out the truth?”

“That won’t be the problem. But he’ll have to negotiate.”

“I had a vision in the park. At the old plane tree.”

“The Mother Gaia Tree?”

So, Ensāni understood Mother Trees.

“What did you see?” Aratos asked.

“The city founding, I think. A red-haired man constructed an altar under the tree and said he’d build a city to last a thousand years. The altar isn’t there anymore though.”

“It is—holding up one of the branches. That must have been the first Perdikkas. He and his brothers were fleeing pursuit and crossed the Bodená, then scaled the cliff to find that tree. He thought it a good omen. I think he just liked the waterfalls and knew a defensible site when he saw it.”

That sounded like Aratos. Always rational.

“What else did you see?” His tone was expectant, as if he knew something. Was he the Spirits’ answer to Teo’s request for more?

“I saw two futures, but don’t know if they’re just different times in one future, or two possibilities. In the first, my people live peaceably among yours. But I also saw a future where the city falls, only a few survivors hiding in the tree’s hollows.”

The ghost of Aratos bent forward on the throne. “You must make the first Perdikkas’s prophecy come true, Teo. A thousand years. You must bring about the first future.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Negotiate.” The ghost faded until the throne was empty.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hello again, Mr. Curly!

I'm back with Odd Creature Lightening Round 2!

Like last time, I'll begin with a bird! One that's right up my alley too, ha!

Creature: Dracula Parrot (properly known as Pesquet's Parrot)

Size: A little bit over a foot

Habitat: The rainforests of New Guinea

Bonus Information: They are the only members of their subfamily, which is quite unique! Their calls are said to sound like low growls and loud screams when they're flying. But despite how intimidating they are, they are only known to eat fruit!

Next, another lizard! These guys are very colorful!

Creature: Namib web-footed gecko

Size: 5 inches long (nearly half of which is just their tail!)

Habitat: The Nanib Desert in Southern Africa

Bonus Information: Their eyes are quite large in order to help them hunt at night, as they are another nocturnal species! They also squeak!

Next is a creature that's kind of just its own thing rather than being a part of a more recognizable species!

Creature: Banded Linsang

Size: 14-16ish inches

Habitat: Evergreen forests in Southeast Asia

Bonus Information: They're a very elusive and solitary species and it doesn't seem like a lot is known about them compared to some of the other creatures I've talked about. One observation of them though is that they do run through the trees of their habitats and are good at leaping between the branches.

Next, we return to the birds!

Creature: Rosefinch (The one pictured is a Pallas's Rosefinch I think? I'll be using them as my main reference)

Size: 5-6 inches

Habitat: Eurasia

Bonus Information: Rosefinches are a genus made up of 28 known species during my era. Most are a mix of pink, white, brown, and/or red!

And finally, a moth!! This one's not what most would probably consider cute, but they a r e quite distracting

Hopefully they aren't bothersome? The skull pattern is less prominent in the image I chose, but apologies if it's an issue-

Creature: Death's-Head Hawkmoth

Size: 5 inches

Habitat: Asia, Europe, or Africa based on the species

Bonus Information: These moths are another genus, there are 3 species from what I can tell! They can make loud chirps when bothered and mostly feed on honey and nectar. It's kind of funny to me that the moths with what looks to be a skull on their bodies have such sweet diets!

And thus concludes Off Creature Lightening Round 2! This one made me realize I really do have more groups of species than I originally realized in my creature collection, ha

Music before I go!

https://youtu.be/N4EXOdCRqnE?si=dkcjX6leZRc_M9dn

Haunt you later Mr. Curly!

-Ghost👻

Hey again! Cheers.

Dracula Parrot? What, does it drink blood or something like that?

Hah! That lizard's eyes— Doesn't even look real. It's out of some kinda cartoon!

Aww. It's adorable...

Wow, never seen a bird that pink before. ...Except for flamingos, I suppose.

Nope, not bothersome! S'got a nice pattern to it. Can confidently say it doesn't look anything like Death's head, though. Hah.

Thanks for these! And for the music, of course.

Talk soon!

[huskynotwolf]

When I first met a Watcher — Scar

From my Fanfic Watchers and Hunters on Quotev

The world is weird. 

Like, for example, the day me and Martyn found a Watcher. 

We were, as usual, patrolling around to see if there is anything wrong. Martyn was complaining about it being boring, but Xisuma told him he had to otherwise, so he couldn’t argue with that. Impulse said he had other jobs, so he didn’t join us.

I mumbled as I went down to weaponry to get myself crossbows because I thought it would come in handy. I found Scott enchanting shields and tridents in a corner, with Cleo next to him, holding an axe. “Hey come on, don’t stare,” Martyn mumbled, grabbed a bow and a stack of arrows and started up the stairs. Cleo gave me a brief wave before walking away to another chest. 

We were walking through the forest, with Martyn murdering any chicken we came about. “Look, I don’t know the point of hunting Watchers. They’re not really messing with us, right?” He grumbled. I elbowed him hard in the ribs and grunted. “You never know when they attack. They hit hard.” I touched the long scars on my face. It was from a hawkling Watcher a bit back ago, when I got attacked by it and then my buddies had to save me. I kept my distance ever since, but I won’t hesitate to kill if I got attacked. 

There was a rustle of leaves up front, and Martin stopped torturing a nearby rabbit. “What’s that?” He perked up, walking closer to me. I pulled out my crossbow, just in case, when a swishing sound followed by the hiss of a creeper came behind up. I jumped and tried to pull Martyn away, when a multicolour blur shot past me, slammed into the creeper and knocked it into a tree. It screeched, then vanished in a puff of smoke. 

“Whew! That was close. Careful next time, travellers. Creepers are nasty in my forest.” He said, waving a hand and sweeping leaves off his red shirt. He had brown beady eyes and a pair of jeans, but sprouting behind him was a pair of giant, red-yellow-green parrot wings sprouting behind him. He had bird talons instead of legs as well. 

There is a Watcher right in front of us. 

“Ahhh!” Martyn screamed and lashed out his sword. The Watcher yelped and leapt up a tree, claws scraping against the branch. “Woah woah woah woah woah… I save your lives and now you wanna kill me? Wow, should’ve just left you there.” The Watcher mumbled. Martyn held his sword high. “Gimme a reason not to kill you right now.” He growled, poison seeping in every word. “Eh, I know you won’t. Anyway, be grateful. Now get out of my forest.” He flicked his hand in a ‘shoo’ motion. 

I raised my voice. “Wait, Martin, stop.” I pushed his sword downwards. “Sorry. You have a name?” I turned towards the mystery guy that apparently owns this forest. “What’s yours?” He replied, playing with a stick. “Scar. That’s Martyn. We’re Hunters.” I said, trying to keep my excitement. I’ve never managed to talk to a Watcher for more than thirty seconds! Most of the time they’re trying to kill me!

”Grian,” he mused. “I’d better be off. Just in case someone tries to find my base and steal all of my stuff.” He flapped his wings. Martyn stared at his wings in awe as he stretched them. “Bye!” Grian laughed and launched off the branch, sending leaves and sticks showering down onto the floor. 

“Well, should we tell Xisuma?” Martyn asked, shaking his head. “Nah. Tryin’ keep that secret.” I mumbled. He shook me. “Dude! How can you be so calm about that?!” I only held up a finger. “He seems harmless.” He slapped my hand. “Hey! You know what happened to your face? No one wants that again.” He growled. “You’re the one who said nothing will happen.” I pointed out. He scratched his head then looked down. “Yeah whatever.”

”Let’s get back to base.”

Contents

Next

[mogai-sunflowers]

Fave bird?

*rubs my hands together gleefully* oh my sweet sweet Rei little do you know I actually have an official list of my top 104 favorite birds HSDLFHASDLKFHASKLJDF. so I obviously can't put pictures of them all in this post but I will give a top 10

1.Splendid fairy wren

[ID: A splendid fairy wren perched upon a small twig with blurred grass and flowers in the background. It is a small, plump bird with a bright royal blue body, light blue cheeks, and a black band around the back of its head and front of its chest. End ID.]

2.Himalayan monal

[Image ID: A close-up image of a Himalayan monal standing on the ground. It is a medium-sized, multicolored bird with the same general shape and stature as a turkey. It has a black underbody, but bright blue and purple wings, as well as a back with red, green, purple, and white feathers on it. It is fully displaying its tail, which is bright orange. End ID.]

3.Lilac-breasted roller

[Image ID: A photo of a lilac-breasted roller perched upon a small twig. It is a smallish bird with a white head, red cheeks, a lilac-tinted magenta chest and "shoulders", a bright turquoise underbelly, and both bright turquoise and royal blue on both its wings and tail. End ID.]

4.Purple-breasted sunbird

[Image ID: A photo of a purple-breasted sunbird perched upon a twig. It is a small bird with a black head, but a back and chest that is vibrantly colored as gradients between pink, orange, light blue, and purple. It has a very long and thin tail. End ID.]

5.Rosita's bunting

[Image ID: A photo of a Rosita's bunting perched upon a twig. It is a small bird with a completely blue head, back, and wings, but a vibrant chest and underbelly that's a gradient from bright pink into bright orange. End ID.]

6.Violet-backed starling

[Image ID: A photo of a violet-backed starling standing on the ground amidst sporadic clumps of grass. It is a lean, smallish bird with a pure white underbelly and chest, but a pure vibrant violet head, neck, back, tail, and wings. End ID.]

7.Philippine fairy-bluebird

[Image ID: A photo of a Philippine fairy-bluebird perched upon a twig. It is a smallish bird with a black underbody and cheeks, but bright blue on the back of its head, body, wings, and tail. It has bright red rings around its eyes. End ID.]

8.Dusky lory

[Image ID: A photo of a dusky lory perched upon a tree branch. It is a parrot with its whole body patterned in alternating orange and black bands, with a large orange beak and a black head and wings. End ID.]

9.Crimson rosella

[Image ID: A photo of a crimson rosella perched upon a flat wooden surface. It is a parrot with a bright red head, underbody, and back, but light blue cheeks, a blue tail, and wings patterned with black and blue feathers outlined in red. End ID.]

10.Crowned woodnymph

[Image ID: A photo of a crowned woodnymph perched upon a small twig. It is a hummingbird with a vibrantly iridescent green head and chest, and a vibrantly iridescent purple rest of its body. End ID.]

there are literally so so so sosososososososo many beautiful birds in the world this barely even scratches the surface tbh. but these are my top 10!

[shinymoonbird]

Anaya Nayanar, also known as Anaya and Anayar, is a Nayanar saint, venerated in the Hindu Shaivite sect. Anaya is considered to be the 14th of the 63 Nayanars. His playing of the Panchakshara (five-syllable mantra 🌟na, ma, śi, vā, ya🌟) on his flute so pleased the god, Shiva, that he took Anaya away to the eternal world.

🌟

The life of Anayar is described in the Thirutthondar Puranam (Periya Puranam) by Sekkizhar, which documents the Histories of the 63 Nayanmar. Anaya is described as a cowherd (ஆயர் or Aayar). Anayar was born and lived his life in Tirumangalam (Thirumangalam), currently in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu. Tirumangalam is a place of pilgrimage, famous for its Samavedeshvarar Temple, dedicated to Supreme Lord Shiva. Aanaayar used to tend cows. He used to take the cows for grazing in the pastures outside of the town. He used to protect the cattle from disease and beasts of prey. Anayar used to smear Sacred Ash on His body. In the meadows, He used to play the Panchakshara (Five-Letter) Mantra of Supreme Lord Shiva on his flute. Music was his way of worshipping Lord Shiva. A verse from Periya Puranam tells about how he crafted a flute from bamboo, as prescribed in the science of music (Gandharva Shastra).

🌟

One day at the onset of the monsoon, Anayar started playing the Holy Five Letter Word on His flute under the Konrai tree, which is sacred to Lord Shiva, in a garden of blossoming konrai trees. The Periya Puranam devotes several verses to describe the natural beauty of the location.

✨Aanaaya Naayanaar spread sweet melody all aound, playing on his flute with supreme skill, according to the prescribed technique. The basic note of the music - Panchaakshara - streamed sweetly like celestial nectar mixed with honey into the ears of the listeners. Entranced by this the herd of cows forgot to chew the cud, after cropping the tender shoots of grass; the little calves with mouths on the udders of the cows let the foaming milk drip down on the ground; the might-horned bulls and the wild animals like the deer came near, with the hairs of the body standing on end. The dancing peacocks stood still; the flocks of birds with their hearts filled with melody, kept quiet as in a swoon; the herdsmen left tasks incomplete. The 'Naagas', inhabitants of the underworld came out of their caverns; the celestial ladies gathered in the heavens and stood quite charmed; the other denizens of the outer space - the Gandharvas, Charanaas and the Kinnaras - too crowded the sky in their chariots. The heavenly damsels feeding their pet parrots on nectar under the shade of the Kalpaka tree, hurried to drink in the sweet music. Both the weak and the strong were caught in the same spell - the serpent with the venomous fangs leaned gently on the peacock; the unmoving lion and the huge tusker kept company; the deer with the grass in its mouth stood by the side of the tiger. ✨All nature too came under this spell - the wind ceased to blow and the blossoming branches of the trees stirred not; the streams and brooks meshing down the mountain stopped dead in their tracks; the clouds lay quiet and shed no drops of rain; the lightning did not flash and there was not a ripple in the wide seas. ✨Thus all things - movable and immovable - lay ensnared in the mesh of the nectarine music that flowed from the sweet-red lips of Aanaaya Naayanaar touching his flute. ✨Ah, the sweet music welling up from the gushing love of the player for the feet of his Lord, which filled earth and heaven then filled the ears of the indwelling Lord dancing in the Golden Hall, hard to reach for all those lacking in real Love.

✨Next, the Lord, with His consort, the very soul of compassion - He from whom all sound and music arise - the three-eyed Supreme being - appeared in the heavens, seated on His Bull-Mount. ✨His crowding hosts kept utterly quiet, so as not to disturb the music of the Panchakshara which the dancing Lord relished so much! ✨The Lord then declared: "Come unto Me, in the same pose as you now are, to enable the righteous devotees to savour your music ever" ✨This Naayanaar willingly complied! ✨The celestials rained flowers on earth; the sages chanted the Vedic hymns, while the flute continued with melody. ✨The Lord and His devotee then entered the Golden Hall at Chidambaram.

🌟

Note: Rasikas may recall in this context the techniques of music portrayed in Silappadhikaram and the effect of Sri Krishna playing on His flute graphically described by Sage Suka, Periyaazhvaar and Arunagirinathar.

A rasika is a term for an aesthete of Indian classical music. The term is derived from the Sanskrit word 'rasa', meaning full of passion, elegant, and with discrimination. Connoisseur - An expert able to appreciate a field; especially in the fine arts.

🌟

[connectionxterminated]

THE ECHOS OF SILENCE

— AUTHOR : KRATOS

— STATUS : PROLOGUE, WIP SINCE 2022, NOVEMBER 2ND.

“But..- What about my human? Where are they going to go?” I chirped, stepping onto Death’s cold, almost empty feeling hand, was it even a hand? It felt more like bones to me. But that’s not the point right now. I needed to focus on what was happening at this very moment.

“Your human will be safe, little one. Come now, we have a lot of work to get done.” Death stood, scooping me up in his hands and starting to walk into what looked like a void of darkness. I wasn’t ready to leave just yet. I wanted to say goodbye to my former human, but I couldn’t, we were already too far into the darkness to go back now. Everytime I would look back, it would just get darker, and darker, until there was nothing left to see.

Not much later we arrived in what seemed to be a huge meadow filled with trees, and tall grass, the grass had what looked to be flowers, beautiful ones at that. There was Red, Blue, Purple, flowers of every color! There were other birds there too! All different kinds. Like Blue-Jays, Parrots, Humming-Birds, the list could go on for hours! The birds looked so majestic, glimmering with what looked to be stars, they looked like spirits! But far more gorgeous than what I’ve ever been told before!

“Is this what the afterlife is, Death?” Death smiled, putting me down onto a tree branch. “There’s so much more to the afterlife than this, little one. This is only a small part of it.” I perked up and looked at him, curiosity coursing through my feathers as I finally replied after a few moments of silence. “Really?” I chirped excitedly. “What more is there? Can I see?” I was ecstatic. What more could there possibly be? “I will show you more of what there is tomorrow. For now, you should rest. You’ve had a long day.” I nodded and got comfortable on the tree-branch I was sitting on, curling up into a comfortable sleeping position, my eyes began to get heavy, and within a matter of minutes, I had felt myself drift off to sleep comfortably.

[coltbuckley]

starter for: @unathorn

location: the woods

One thing you learned when you were living out in the middle of nowehere was that there wasn't a thing like complete quiet (and if there was, you had a big fucking problem). On the farm, there'd been always something. Mooing, barking, the rattling, falling apart engine of a truck or tractor, yelling. Same for the woods, birds and deer and whatever else was out there. This place was no damn different, aside from the fact that now, for some goddamn reason, Colt could understand it all.

It was giving him a fucking headache.

"I want nuts. Do you have nuts? I like nuts." The bird asked from it's branch up in the tree, turning it's red and green feathered head from side to side. It'd been like that for the past ten minutes, following him around, squawking. Colt could talk to them but that didn't mean they had shit to say, or were able to take a damn hint. "Fuck off. Go get 'em yourself." He rumbled back. H They always asked for food. What did he fucking look like? "I want nuts. And worms. And bugs. Give me bugs. Give me worms. I'm hungry." Colt was about ready to pelt a stone at the thing, when he heard something.

Not a bird. Definitely not a bird. A flash of white between the branches and- Colt stopped dead in his tracks as a white wolf padded out from between the trees. A big one. Very big. The kind you'd hear rumors and tellings about from your neighbours, about how it'd mauled a cow or a couple of sheep on it's own not even leaving the bones (when that cow had just ran off because the fuckwit of a farmer hadn't fixed his damn fence).

He'd dealt with coyotes and foxes before. There hadn't been wolves in the woods where he was from. But dogs. Wolves were similar to dogs, right? Should there be wolves here, with parrots and monkeys and whatever else? But this island didn't seem to give a shit about what things could. He'd been talking to a fucking parrot. "Hey there, buddy." Colt finally said, keeping his distance, his eyes fixed on the animal. "Aint'cha a pretty one. Got some seagul meat for you. Real good. You want some scraps?"

[cagemasterfantasy]

Aarakocra Ranking and Features (5e)

Guide

1=do not play this class as this race

2=can play but not recommended

3=decent choice

4=perfect

Elemental Evil Player's Companion

Sequestered in high mountains atop tall trees, the aarakocra evoke fear and wonder. Many of these birdfolk hail from the boundless vistas of the Elemental Plane of Air. They are immigrants, refugees, scouts, and explorers, their outposts functioning as footholds in a world both strange and alien.

Ability Score Increase. Your Dexterity score increases by 2, and your Wisdom score increases by 1.

Age. Aarakocra reach maturity by age 3. Compared to humans, aarakocra don’t usually live longer than 30 years.

Alignment. Most aarakocra are good and rarely choose sides when it comes to law and chaos. Tribal leaders and warriors might be lawful, while explorers and adventurers might tend toward chaotic.

Size. Aarakocra are about 5 feet tall. They have thin, lightweight bodies that weigh between 80 and 100 pounds. Your size is Medium.

Speed. Your base walking speed is 25 feet.

Flight. You have a flying speed of 50 feet. To use this speed, you can’t be wearing medium or heavy armor.

Talons. You are proficient with your unarmed strikes, which deal 1d4 slashing damage on a hit.

Languages. You can speak, read, and write Common, Aarakocra, and Auran.

Mordenkainen Presents: Monsters of the Multiverse

A winged people who originated on the Elemental Plane of Air, aarakocra soar through the sky wherever they wander. The first aarakocra served the Wind Dukes of Aaqa — mighty beings of air — and were imbued with a measure of their masters’ power over winds. Their descendants still command echoes of that power.

From below, aarakocra look like large birds and thus are sometimes called birdfolk. Only when they roost on a branch or walk across the ground is their Humanoid nature clear. Standing upright, aarakocra are typically about 5 feet tall, and they have long, narrow legs that taper to sharp talons. Feathers cover their bodies — usually red, orange, yellow, brown, or gray. Their heads are also avian, often resembling those of parrots or eagles.

Ability Score Increase. When determining your character’s ability scores, increase one score by 2 and increase a different score by 1, or increase three different scores by 1. You can't raise any of your scores above 20.

Creature Type. You are a Humanoid.

Size. Your size is Medium.

Speed. Your walking speed is 30 feet.

Flight. Because of your wings, you have a flying speed equal to your walking speed. You can’t use this flying speed if you’re wearing medium or heavy armor.

Talons. You have talons that you can use to make unarmed strikes. When you hit with them, the strike deals 1d6 + your Strength modifier slashing damage, instead of the bludgeoning damage normal for an unarmed strike.

Wind Caller. Starting at 3rd level, you can cast the Gust of Wind spell with this trait, without requiring a material component. Once you cast the spell with this trait, you can’t do so again until you finish a long rest. You can also cast the spell using any spell slots you have of 2nd level or higher.

Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma is your spellcasting ability for it when you cast Gust of Wind with this trait (choose when you select this race).

Languages. Your character can speak, read, and write Common and one other language that you and your DM agree is appropriate for the character. The Player’s Handbook offers a list of languages to choose from. The DM is free to modify that list for a campaign.

Elemental Evil Aarakocra

Artificer 1 aside from flight Aarakocra brings nothing to Artificer

Barbarian 1 flight is always great but Barbarian is a poor choice for Aarakocra. The emphasis on remaining in melee combat takes away Aarakocra’s biggest advantage: mobility

Bard 2 flight is great for staying out of melee but that’s the only thing that Aarakocra brings to Bard

Cleric 3 Dexterity and a bit of Wisdom are great for a lightly-armored Cleric and flight is always fantastic

Druid 4 Aarakocra works really well as a Druid. Dexterity will help fill out your AC in druid-friendly armor and Wisdom will help with your spells. Flight means that you don’t need to spend your limited wild shape uses to turn into a bird so you can save them for more useful things like fighting

Fighter 4 Fighters really like races with a great stat line and few frills so Aarakocra is a great fit. Dexterity is ideal for an Archery build but if you want to be in melee you’ll want to use finesse weapons. Flight solves a lot of problems for Fighters since they typically need to rely on party members or magic items whenever an enemy is out of reach

Monk 4 it’s hard to think of a better option for Monk than Aarakocra. Dexterity and flight line up perfectly and flight is a massive boon for a class that’s almost completely locked into melee combat. Better still your flight speed is affected by Unarmored Movement so your already impressive 50 ft. flight speed continues to improve as you gain levels making an Aarakocra Monk among the fastest creatures in the game

Paladin 2 you could make a dexterity-based Paladin work and flight is always amazing but Aarakocra offers very little of value for Paladin

Ranger 4 likely an even better option for Aarakocra archers than Fighter Ranger makes good use of both of Aarakocra’s ability score increases and still gets the Archery fighting style to capitalize on Aarakocra’s superior mobility at range

Rogue 4 +2 dex +1 whatever else you need and flight. You could certainly fight at range but hit-and-run melee attacks work great too. Thanks to Cunning Action you can Disengage as a Bonus Action and perform easy hit-and-run attacks from the air

Sorcerer 1 same as Artificer

Warlock 1 same as Artificer and Sorcerer

Wizard 1 same as Artificer Sorcerer and Warlock

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Horizon to Horizon AU Masterpost!

(And some Saints of Eyes and Ears AU too!)

*this is a work in progress, updates will occur sporadically as I find motivation in drawers and under my bed*

A guide to my fantasy worldbuilding alternate universe built around the Hermitcraft, Empires, Evolution, and Life Series SMPs.

Questions are always welcome, and my ask box is open!

The elevator pitch:

The sun rises, and the moon rises, and the sun sets, and the moon sets, all between the Four Horizons of the world. One to each cardinal direction, and each with it’s own continent: Equinox to the North, Solstice to the south. Sunrise to the East, Sunset to the West. Civilizations rule the Land of the Sunrise, the Birthplace of Day and Night. Empires rule the Land of the Sunset, the Resting Place of Day and Night. Hermits and Emperors make peace and war, trade and explore, live and die and make merry in this First Dimension. The Second, the Nether Below, and the Third, the End Above, are lands of danger ripe for discovery. The lands to the north and south, however… who knows what’s over there, leagues past the vanishing point of plain sight?

More in-depth stuff below the cut! Fair warning, ‘tis very long.

What is the Horizon to Horizon AU?

The Horizon to Horizon AU, or more simply Horizons AU, is an alternate universe fusion containing the characters within the Hermitcraft SMP, Empires SMP, and Evolution, or Evo SMP. It is a high-to-mid fantasy setting, with some sci-fi elements when it comes to redstone.

Fics set in this au, in-universe chronological order:

- Among the mountains of everlong, a story about the Stronghold War (3,451 words, unfinished, on hiatus)

- Cracking like a dry branch in a westward wind, a story about newcomers and old debts (24,980 words, finished!)

- A kindling, of sorts, fluff and banter and all that jazz (3,423 words, unfinished)

- Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees, or, 2023 Hermittober Chapters, a story about crime and conspiracy (12,875 words, finished but I haven’t uploaded them all yet)

- Give me back my heart, you wingless thing, a story about prophecies and past tragedies (25,025 words, unfinished, a good ways along, currently working on this one)

- We’ll sing a song of days gone by, a story about the forgotten history that ties Horizons to the Saints of Eyes and Ears (unpublished, hammering it out in private at the moment)

Who’s who in this universe?

Between the Horizons, there are two major groups: the Hermits of the Sunrise, and the Emperors of the Sunset. This AU was made during Season 9 of Hermitcraft and Season 2 of Empires, and more specifically was born from a question that came into my mind during the crossover event: What would happen if the Hermits were tasked with ruling nations, like Emperors?

The emperors are pretty much doing the same thing they usually do: ruling empires. But the hermits are split into two main camps: those active in the crossover, who I arbitrarily chose to rule their own civilizations (as having a civilization for each hermit would be… some nonsense), and those not active in the crossover, who live among the civilizations, but do not rule. A full list of Hermits and who they are in alphabetical order follows:

- BdoubleO: The Lord Bee Double Oh of the Moss Throne, moss-faerie, ruler of Livingstone

- cubfan135: The Sovereign Cub Fan Voidstars of the Red Rock Crown, half-vex infected with sculk, ruler of Climbing Spires

- Docm77: The King Doc Mk-77 of the Deepfang Crown, goat-folk-faerie, ruler of The Maw

- ethoslab: Wanderer and freelance redstone technomancer, ambiguous canine-folk

- FalseSymmetry: The Lady False Symmetry of the Darkwood Throne, human(?), ruler of Umbra

- GeminiTay: The Queen Gemini Taylor of the Crown of Needles, deer-faerie, ruler of Evergreen

- Grian: The Sitter Grian Sunset of the Dusk Throne, parrot-folk, ruler of Sunset Coast

- hypnotizd: Mercenary and eyes-for-hire, bat-folk

- impulseSV: The Emperor Impulse Esvee of the Emerald Throne, cat-folk, ruler of The Labyrinth

- iskall85: The Vice-Mayor Iskall Eighty Five, wolf-folk, second-in-command of Iceberg Metropolis

- iJevin: The Crown Prince Eye Jevin of the Clearwater Crown, thinking slime, ruler of The Watering Hole

- joehills: The Administrator Joe Hills of the Other Throne, just a guy, ruler of Elsewhere

- Keralis: The Mayor Keralis of the Blue Ice Crown, wolf-folk, ruler of Iceberg Metropolis

- MumboJumbo: Chief Engineer and Technomancer of Technicolor City, plant-faerie

- PearlescentMoon: The High Priestess of the Throne of Histories, llama-folk, ruler of Great Acacia

- rendog: The King Ren Dog of the Crown of Vines, wolf-folk, ruler of The Tangle

- Skizzleman: Official cross-ocean diplomat between the Hermit Civilizations and the Empires of the Sunset, parrot-folk

- Stressmonster: Wandering trader of information from the little creatures of the world, butterfly-fae

- TangoTek: The King Tango Tek of the Basalt Throne, third-blaze-third-stray-third-human, ruler of The Neverglades

- VintageBeef: Just your local neighborhood innkeeper, tavern-keeper, and quest giver, cow-folk

- Welsknight: Trusted knight and right hand man to Bee Double, human

- xisumavoid: The Commander X of the Dragon Crown, living void?, ruler of The Dragon’s Spine

- Zedaph: Freelance wandering inventor and mad scientist, half-sheep-half-chicken-folk

- ZombieCleo: The Duchess Cleo of the Everfrost Throne, zombie, ruler of Permafrost Springs

And the Emperors of the Sunset, too:

- fwhip: The Duke Fwhip of the Icicle Throne, polar-bear-folk, ruler of Glacier Way

- Jimmy Solidarity: The Trailblazer Jimmy of the Throne of Dust, horse-folk, ruler of Frontier

- Joey Graceffa: The Lord Protector of the Petal Crown, sniffer-folk, ruler of Paradise Mountain

- Katherine Elizabeth: The Maiden Queen Katherine Elizabeth of the Powder Snow Throne, human, ruler of Skytouch

- LDShadowLady: The Lady-Defender Lizzie Shadow-Lady of the Glowing Crown, firefly-faerie, ruler of The Waterways

- MythicalSausage: The Guardian-Emperor Mythical Sausage of the Underthrone, human, ruler of The Thicket

- Pixlriffs: The Emperor Pixl Rifra of the Verdant Crown, parrot-folk, ruler of The Emerald Lands

- Scott Smajor: The Emperor Scott S. Major of the Gilded Crown, half-husk, ruler of Solis

- SmallishBeans: The King Joel S. Beans of the Ivory Crown, goat-folk, ruler of Undermoon (an Emperor in this AU)

- Shubble: The Great Librarían Shubble Shade-Stander of the Copper Throne, fox-folk, ruler of Great Aurora

- TheOrionSound: The Marcher-Lord Oli Sounder of the Crown of Grasses, llama-folk, ruler of Cross-Country

Also kicking around are the members of the Evolution SMP, who are not hermits or emperors, most of whose characters are not entirely fleshed out as of writing. Their descriptions will be updated later, and all are parrot-folk:

- MiniMuka, technomancer

- InTheLittleWood, diplomat and brother to Grian

- Nettyplays

- bigbst4

- SalemsLady, Sensor Systems Operator

- Tomohawk

- systemzee

- Taurtis/Joeyish, Shrieker Systems Operator

And what is the Saints of Eyes and Ears AU?

The Saints of Eyes and Ears AU is… sort of its own thing, and sort of a part of Horizons. It is a retelling of the events of the Life Series SMP through a semi-historical, semi-legendary lens as the cosmology/history of a religion known as Livolutionism. It is mostly based on the history-legends of Christianity, more specifically Catholicism, as that religion is the one I am most familiar with.

The elevator pitch:

In the time before time, when the world was small and the gods were close, an endless line of descendants of descendants lived and died under a sky full of eyes. Saints and sinners, lovers and enemies, bitter rivals and soulbound comrades have lived a thousand lives beneath the watchful gaze of the angels above, and demons below. But what an angel or devil is up to interpretation, as are their opaque intentions.

This will probably get its own post later down the line.

Okay, what are those legends?

The events of the various installments of the life series are collected into various books, which are self-contained tales that each follow a specific Saint, the winner of that particular installment, and the world and people that grow and flourish and crumble and die around them. The books and their Saints are as follows:

- The Book of Thirds, surrounding the life of the Saint Grian of the Desert Sun and the Red Winter War

- The Book of Lasts, surrounding the life of the Saint Scott of the Endless Stars and the Trickery of the Boogymen

- The Book of Doubles, surrounding the life of the Saint Pearl of the Shadowed Moon and the Bonds of the Soulmates

- The Book of Limits, surrounding the life of the Saint Martyn of the Stained Mars and the Chaos of the Clock

- The Book of Secrets, surrounding the life of the Saint Scar of the Blooming Earth and the Keeper’s Whispered Words

- The Real Book, a disputed scripture, surrounding the life of the Saint Cleo of the Fading Comet and the Repeating Lives

- The Book of Cards, surrounding the life of Saint Joel of the Turning Wheel and the Luck of the Draw

[americangrove]

Easement

I did not see a parakeet. Nor did I expect to because the last time anyone saw the kind I could have seen was one hundred years ago. But had I seen one, it would have had a green body, a yellow neck, and a red crown, like a granny smith apple, turning into a golden delicious, ending with a fuji flourish. Unlike apples though, this parakeet would have been indigenous. Back in his day, Audubon fixed four of them, all on a branch of matured cocklebur, their name swirling below–Carolina Parrot or Parakeet—just as live ones would have swirled above and outside his page, until they all passed (a century later) into life only re-presented (drawings, pictures, reminiscence, taxidermy).[1] So, I did not see a parakeet.

But I did see cane, as I was in a canebrake. Switchcane, rivercane and hill cane, the genus Arundinaria trio, bamboos native to North America. I am not sure which species of cane I was in, though my guess is switchcane (A. tecta), as rivercane (A. gigantea) also has the name of giant cane for its remarkable height—at maturity it is taller than a grown man on a grown horse; and hill cane (A. appalachiana) has a topographic preference that did not describe the place where I stood. 

Nevertheless, they all look similar, more like plants in diagram rather than plants in dirt, their linear stems appear pencil drawn, their lance like leaves seem generated by straight edge. Enmassed, canebrakes look like early computer-generated greenery before sinuosity was possible. In a way, they are an early plant—a fire rolls through, clears the understory, perhaps takes a tree or two down with it; the flames cease and cane is among the first to resurface, and resurface quickly for it is not as dependent on reseeding as it is on its rhizome.[2] Like the longleaf pines which it once accompanied over the land, it looked forward to the fire next time. Out of the flames came thickets, which though they may have barred other plants, they were quite welcoming to Carolina parakeets, warblers, “cougars, bobcats and wolves” canebrake rattlesnakes, creole pearly eye butterfly and untold others.[3] Walls of cane were a kind of mass housing for the many migrant, squatter and settling organisms of the southeast. They (particularly river cane) also provided materials of home and place making for humans, as their straight stems were (and still are) gathered by Native American communities especially the Cherokee.[4] Once hollowed out, canes can become basket or blowgun, mat or flute, or—as has become a rustic object— fishing poles.  There are not many significant canebrakes today. Cattle ate them, draining and development cleared them, fire suppression stymies their return; the scattered groupings I see along the road are remnants of a lost empire, holding out amidst a concrete ground that stifles them, a dense forest that smothers them, and farmland that suppresses them. But unlike the parakeet they remain. Though, like the parakeet, I was not in the canebrake to see the cane—it fortunately just happened to be there.

I only saw the canebrake, because I was in a conversation easement, which I only noticed because of a small, yellow, all caps sign—"NORTH CAROLINA SOIL AND WATER CONSERVATION EASEMENT BOUNDARY”. “Easement” is one of those legal terms that I knew more by general use than specific meaning.  Modified by the word “conservation” easement suggested the land was protected, but why, by who and to what extent was unclear until I looked it up later. The NC Department of Environmental Quality defines conservation easements as: “voluntary legal agreements designed to ensure the long-term viability and protection of the natural resources within a surveyed and recorded boundary. The easement planning process establishes allowances and restrictions that are beneficial to the landowner, the easement holder, and the environment.”[5] The conservation easement then is not foremost a means of protection, but (much more interesting I think), it is a way of organizing layers of rights and access upon a property.  Someone owns the lands, but the easement gives some else a right to use it (or not use it, in a way, when conservation is the right being exercised) which in turn inflects the rights and possibilities of both the one who possess the land and others (like myself) who neither own the land, nor hold an easement, but still gain some benefit from the easement’s existence (i.e. enjoying a now rare landscape feature).[6] The yellow sign that alerted me to presence of the easement was nailed into a sweet gum tree. In the FAQ for conservation easements one of the questions asks: “Are there way to precisely identify the boundaries of a conservation easement?”  

The answer:

As part of the restoration project, all easement corners were surveyed and monumented in the ground with metal rods. Most of these rods are also topped with 2” diameter aluminum caps. DEQ also uses a variety of methods to post easement boundaries including signage, metal posts, and tree blaze. These may be a witness post or witness tree, located near the line but not the exact location of the boundary.[7]

In some ways, my studies right now could be described as figuring out the extra-legal work of these “witness trees” and their “artefacted” forms into “witness posts” (and columns and panels and all sorts of other wooden things that “witness” human contracts and contact).[8] It gave me pause then, after reading the FAQ to realize that I had witnessed a witness tree that still witnesses (instead of being one in a historical document or text), but that in the moment the sweet gum’s legal function had not even registered to me. I was much more taken by the train of ants along its trunk likely extracting honeydew from aphids up in the canopy, and by the trail of Virginia creeper going up further than the ants, in search of its own luminous food. From the tree’s perspective, witnessing a survey has been only one frame in a very long film still being made around, and around and around it.

In truth, I did even see the easement sign until I was near the tree. And the reason I was near the tree is because a few feet away from it, along the road was the initial object of my attention—a set of black and yellow object marker signs denoting some feature adjacent to the road, a feature which is this case was a culvert underneath the road. Culverts, in their projecting pipe form look like engineering/infrastructural litter, debris left over from a drainage project. In addition to being the ugliest kind they are also the cheapest and least efficient—they do little to channel a flow directly into their opening, which limits how much comes out their exit, potentially leading to the water overflowing the road. Luckily, the culvert I came to see is the recessed box kind with wings extending on its side to welcome water into its inlet, guiding it towards its outlet.[9] Embedded in the earth, moss covered, and a bit worn, there is a minimalist beauty to this kind culvert that does not readily betray the complexity of its task at once to convey ground traffic above and the traffic of water underneath. On the outlet side, some of the water pooled, its clear bottom supported small fish and tadpoles, while its silty edge moistened mosses and grasses and a bit further up also the canes. The water this culvert channels comes from the Indian Branch River, which drains into Deep Creek River, which drains into the Tar River, which drains into the Pamlico Sound, which joins the Atlantic Ocean. Follow these larger waters and you’ll find the larger history of the canes and the Cherokees, the parakeets and the many trees which have witnesses the work of so many kinds of settling, the human version being the most recent, but likely not the last. Though we often like to think otherwise, our homes and other feats of building are ultimately done under a kind of “natural easement”, the land allows us access for a while, but as all the other prior communities of plants or persons show, no claim of possession is final, no root is long and deep enough to always remain (though many can be long remnant). Maybe I will be able to spend a good deal of my life following these state and nation spanning roots, weavings, waters and rhizomes.  

But it is not yet time to go so far out. Afterall, the only reason I saw the signs for the culvert, which put me in range to see the blaze on the tree, which brought me close enough to see a canebrake, which led me to imagine what it would be like to still be able to see parakeets, was because I pass the culvert nearly every day when I am home. Fifteen hundred feet from the front door, I have crossed this place many times running, enjoying the brief respite of shade provided by the gums before the land opens again for the farms; and I have driven by it many more times on the way to town, the car bouncing lightly over the culvert.  So, I have noticed this spot for nearly thirty years, but this is first time I have “witnessed” the three hundred years of history flowing and growing in it. Either part separately is valuable—to live in a place and feel its features or to come to a place and learn its features, nesting sensations (the shade of the trees, the bump of the road…) or nesting histories (extinction, settlement…). But to bring them together, may, for a moment sustain that special sense which is just able to catch an apple-colored dart zipping across the far end of the eye.

Photos

[1] The Carolina Parakeet, once common from New York down to the Gulf of Mexico, seems to have gone in the first half of the 20th century. The last documented one, named Incas, died in captivity in 1918. It is unclear exactly why it went extinct though habitation destruction seems part of the problem. See: https://johnjames.audubon.org/last-carolina-parakeet and https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/why-carolina-parakeet-go-extinct-180968740/

[2] There is strong interest in canes and restoring canebrakes. For a general overview see: Barret, Richard; Grabowski, Janet; Williams, M.J. "Giant Cane and Other Native Bamboos: Establishment and Use for Conservation of Natural Resources in the Southeast" U.S. Department of Agriculture, Natural Resources Conservation Service, 2021. For a 18th account of cane use in North Carolina see: Lawson, John.  A New Voyage to North Carolina. London: 1709. Digitized at https://docsouth.unc.edu/nc/lawson/menu.html.  Lawson recorded  many ways that cane was used by the Cherokee.

[3] See: Platt, Steven G., Christopher G. Brantley, and Thomas R. Rainwater. “Canebrake Fauna: Wildlife Diversity In A Critically Endangered Ecosystem.” Journal of The Elisha Mitchell Scientific Society 117, No. 1 (2001): 1–19.

[4] For contemporary work to maintain these traditions see: https://theonefeather.com/2012/05/22/river-cane-important-cherokee-cultural-staple/

[5] See: https://www.deq.nc.gov/about/divisions/deq-administrative-divisions/north-carolina-stewardship-program/living-your-conservation-easement#Aretherewaystopreciselyidentifytheboundariesofaconservationeasement-8672

[6] Though my enjoyment in this case was not a right because this easement is not public (i.e., I was trespassing).

[7] See link on note 4.

[8] Other have already done some of this work. See for example: Miller, Daegan. This Radical Land. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 2018.

[9] Here is a wonderfully informative video on culverts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15XJDmawbYU

Images:

Carolina Parrot or Parakeet” in The Birds of America: From Drawings Made in the United States and Their Territories Volume 4. John James Audubon. New York: J.B. Chevalier, 1842. p.306.

Image 3208 (Canebrake in Northeast Louisiana early 1900’s). USDA Bureau of Plant Introduction. See note 2 for source.

[panzershrike-pretz]

Hey guys! I was bored and decided to draw some brazilian little babies! Enjoy💕💕

There'll be a bit of info about 'em under the cut! (And also the folklore behind the Boto!)

CUTIA - agouti are tiny rodents that can be found in most of North, Central and South America; Here in Brazil there's 9 different types of these little guys and i've been fortunate enough to cross ways with 'em, since they're everywhere xD

BOTO-COR-DE-ROSA - amazon river dolphin is famous for it's appearance in brazilian folklore. It says that during the night, they take the form of a very handsome man and seduce girls to spend the night with him. By the morning, he's gone and the girls are left pregnant with it's child. People say that this story was created because girls wouldn't admit they slept with someone before marriage lmao.

GRALHA AZUL - azure jay is the animal symbol of the state of Paraná. They are very important to our ecosystem, as they're responsible for spreading pinhão (pinion? Pine nut? Idk) seeds. Unfortunately, their population is declining and with it, the araucaria forests, which provides their main food.

ARARAJUBA - golden conure is a medium parrot native to the Amazon forest. Their colors are bright and resemble the brazilian flag.

SOLDADINHO-DO-ARARIPE - araripe manakin is a small endangered little guy. It's red cap gave it the name that, from portuguese to english, translates to "little soldier of araripe". It is from Ceará and some other states in the north-eastern region.

ARARA MILITAR - military macaw gets its name from it's green feathers. It's native to Mexico and the South America, and considered a vulnerable species. Apparently its not actually brazilian but i didn't know at the time i drew it xD.

MICO-LEÃO-DOURADO - golden marmoset is endemic to the brazilian atlantic coastal forest. Unfortunately, they're endangered due to loss of habitat, poaching and the illegal pet market.

GATO MARACAJÁ - margay is a small and nocturnal cat. They spend most of the time in trees and are able to turn their ankles 180° degrees, managing to grasp branches extremelly well.

JACARÉ-ANÃO - dwarf caiman is found in most of the north region of South America. It is the smallest of all crocodilians (and my favorite).

PIRARUCU - arapaima is one of the largest freshwater fish and can be found in the Amazon River. They where introduced to East Asia and are now a invasive species- welp, they're a delicacy anyways soooo (never tasted them, but people say they're good).

CACHORRO-DO-MATO - bush dogs have a big range of living but are rarely seen. Their species was, funnily enough, found first as fossils and then as the living thing - people thought they were extinc lol. Their closes living relatives are the Maned Wolf and the African Wild Dog.