#Silencia writes

[victormalonso]

cuaderno de bitácora | víctor m. alonso

[elemento de sombras, \ tus ojos y la mar arrastran mis palabras al frío de la noche. \ eres cruel en tu cúpula de estrellas, \ pero la luna te devuelve el eco de los años y mi sangre. \ en este ámbito, tan sólo una metáfora me ubica y me silencia, \ porque aquí es el mar quien manda, \ quien impone los rumbos de la vida \ quien redacta la bitácora del silencio.]

[element of shadows, \ your eyes and the sea drag my words into the cold of the night. \ you are cruel in your dome of stars, \ but the moon gives you back the echo of the years and my blood. \ In this ambit, only a metaphor places me and silences me, \ because here it is the sea who rules, \ who imposes the course of life, \ who writes the log of silence.]

[nature-antithesis]

Welcome to Nature Antithesis!

This is a blog dedicated to my project called Nature Antithesis. I'll share here any updates, drabbles, ideas, WIPs and finished chapters, as well as art related to the project and character designs C:

Genre: Sapphic fantasy. Status: WIP. Started: January 2024. Synopsis: A wandering elven druid arrives to a sacred forest during her travels. Townsfolk tell her the forest has been sick for a while and decides to stay until she can help cure it. And then she'll have a fateful meeting with the keeper of the forest, another elven druid, who has been living there for centuries. She's already been looking for a cure for some time already. Will they manage to fix the problem together?

About page with more info.

The story and all updates will be in both English and Spanish. Different posts will be made for writing centric posts, but art posts will have only one. Feel free to mute the one for the other language.

Bienvenide a Nature Antithesis!

Este es un blog dedicado a mi proyecto llamado Nature Antithesis. Postearé aqui cualquier actualización, drabbles, ideas, textos en progreso y episodios terminados, además de artes relacionados con el proyecto o diseños de personaje.

Género: Fantasia sáfica. Estado: En proceso. Empezado: Enero 2024. Sinopsis: Una druida elfa ambulante llega a un bosque sagrado durante sus viajes. Los habitantes de un pueblo de los alrededores le cuentan que el bosque lleva enfermo durante un tiempo y decide quedarse hasta que pueda ayudar a curarlo. Y allí tendrá un encuentro predestinado con la guardiana del bosque, otra druida elfa, que ha estado viviendo en el bosque durante siglos. Ha estado buscando una cura durante un tiempo. Conseguirán solucionar el problema juntas?

Pagina about con más info.

Todos los posts de la historia se harán tanto en inglés como en español. Se harán posts diferentes para cada idioma cuando sean con foco en la escritura, pero los de arte tendrán solo uno. Silencia el tag de la otra lengua si lo prefieres.

🍃 Personal blog: @eirasummers || 🔥 Art blog: @eirasummersart

[chaosnsparks]

San Dimas - CA 🇺🇸 Sofia Chudzik Bauer | IG: @sofiacbauer

🇧🇷 PT_BR

Eu sempre brinco que moro no Faroeste, no Rancho, e não tem muito o que fazer por aqui. As coisas fecham cedo, até nos finais de semana, as opções são limitadas, ir para cidades um pouco maiores demanda carro e eu só tenho uma bicicleta. Mas com isso, aprendi a me virar para me divertir e ter bons momentos, mesmo no meio do nada.

O Faroeste me ensinou coisas preciosas:

Posso ter momentos de pausa sem a necessidade de estar sempre ocupada;

O tédio é necessário e estimula a criatividade;

A rotina ajuda a focar no que realmente importa. A falta de opções e o limite de horários me levaram a criar uma rotina de atividades para aproveitar ao máximo;

O planejamento reduz dores de cabeça. Como tudo é longe daqui, sempre organizo meu dia e minha rotina para realizar tudo que quero e preciso;

Viver com momentos de pausa, tédio, rotina e planejamento me permite pensar e agir melhor, focando nas minhas metas e tendo mais energia e tempo para realizar o que desejo.

A cultura da pressa em grandes cidades afeta de forma silenciosa, mesmo que não pareça. O excesso de opções nos distrai constantemente, tornando fácil perder o foco e esquecer o que realmente importa. No entanto, o Faroeste me ajuda a manter o foco, pois aqui não há muitas distrações.

Agora entendo que morar aqui é como um período sabático para um escritor que se muda para uma cabana nas montanhas para terminar de escrever um livro. Esse "autoexílio" permite que as coisas aconteçam, pois ouvimos as vozes internas da alma que a cidade grande silencia. Mesmo no meio do nada e sem perspectivas predefinidas, encontramos nosso caminho de volta.

Que você também encontre o seu "Faroeste" interior, mergulhe dentro de si mesmo e siga em direção aos seus objetivos.

🇺🇸 EN

I always joke that I live in the Wild West, on a Ranch, and there isn't much to do around here. Things close early, even on weekends, options are limited, going to slightly bigger towns requires a car, and I only have a bicycle. But with this, I've learned to make the most of my time and have great moments, even in the middle of nowhere.

The Wild West has taught me valuable lessons:

I can have moments of pause without the need to be constantly busy.

Boredom is necessary and stimulates creativity.

Routine helps focus on what truly matters. The lack of options and limited hours led me to create a routine of activities to make the most of my time.

Planning reduces headaches. Since everything is far from here, I always organize my day and routine to accomplish everything I want and need.

Living with moments of pause, boredom, routine, and planning allows me to think and act better, focusing on my goals and having more energy and time to achieve what I desire.

The culture of haste in big cities silently affects us, even if it doesn't seem like it. An excess of options constantly distracts us, making it easy to lose focus and forget what truly matters. However, the Wild West helps me maintain focus because there aren't many distractions here.

Now I understand that living here is like a sabbatical period for a writer who moves to a cabin in the mountains to finish writing a book. This "self-exile" allows things to happen because we hear the inner voices of the soul that the big city silences. Even in the middle of nowhere and without predefined prospects, we find our way back.

May you also find your inner "Wild West," delve into yourself, and move toward your goals.

[riylcast]

Episode 567: Marc Byrd (of Hammock)

Sometimes you can’t fully appreciate the power of music until you need it. 

For me, it was 2019’s Silencia, which helped me through the darkest period of the pandemic. 

Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to speak to Marc Byrd on the occasion of Hammock’s 12th release, Love in the Void. 

Byrd happily discussed the healing role of music as a musician, as writing and performing pulled him through some of his own darkest moments.

[silenciawrites]

Nano 2020 Weekly Update

As I do. It’s really lovely to be able to hang out with my Wrimo crew from a few years back again, and it’s showing in my writing! (That may also be the procrastination talking, though...what final on Monday?) Project: Stonecast Status: Complete Draft 1 Word Count: 10 232/50 000 Excerpt:

The minutes count down to midnight, one year to the day after she had made her fateful Casting. Zolenna stares, hypnotized, at the hourglass sand as it trickles through and down, each grain another second of time she had not expected to have. She listens fiercely, as though she will hear the crackling of the flame and the screams of the dying, as though the blood and torment in the vision would not have taken hours to cause…

The last few grains of sand trickle into the bottom of the glass, and nothing has happened. She lives in a room alone now, after spending most of the last year dedicating herself only to her craft and being granted a higher status because of it. But she imagines that in her old room, the other girls still breathe evenly in their sleep. There is no fire. There is no blood. It has been one year, and she is alive. 

And this...cannot be possible. The hourglass has run out on the year she had left, and she is still breathing. No smoke fills the air. No screams shatter the quiet of the dark hours. There are no crackling flames, no spreading blood on the stone floors of the library. The keep is the same as it has ever been, and she does not know what to do.

---

It’s pretty rough but it’s there, is the thing. Tag list: @writekaywrite @tinbramble (I don’t think I’ve been tagging anyone else in this? I’m not sure? idk.)

[emptysurface]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Female Character(s), Amelia Bones, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Original Male Character(s), Minerva McGonagall, Marauders (Harry Potter), Gideon Prewett (Harry Potter), Fabian Prewett, Ignatius Prewett, Lucretia Black Prewett Additional Tags: Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Self-Insert, Two Self-Inserts at Hogwarts, Worldbuilding, magical headcanons, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, implied child neglect, Emotional Manipulation, slightly sad backstories, Growing Up, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

Enid Prewett dreams of becoming an animagus and studying under the greatest Transfiguration Master of her time, Minerva McGonagall. It's Going To Happen.

Eleanor Flint is here to learn magic, play Quidditch, and eat all the food. She's also absolutely, definitely, totally, a proper Pureblood Lady.

Finally having reached the auspicious age of eleven, armed with (somewhat spotty) knowledge and additional life experience (less useful than you might think), these two witches are finally going to Hogwarts.

With no idea that the other actually exists.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

[kaistrex]

Hiya!! For your end of the year asks - 13 & 14? :)

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

Hammock. My playlist of their tracks is currently 8½ hours long and is only going to get longer!

I can actually link the bigger fics I wrote this year to the Hammock album I listened to while writing them, so indulge me as I list them here!

Where the Real Beasts Are was a mixed playlist of Silencia and Universalis

Cloaked in Gold was Mysterium

Home was the two tracks Tape Recorder and Tornado Warning (Tornado Warning in particular is the perfect soundtrack for Chapter 5)

Elsewhere was Elsewhere (I straight up named it after the album I listened to because I had no idea what else to call it 😂)

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

Probably a bad case of the wilds. I’m no stranger to reading smut, but writing it like this (and actually posting it) is way out of my comfort zone haha. People seemed to enjoy it though 🤣

Thanks for the ask <3

Questions here if anyone else is interested!

[ssojack]

sso hogwarts au: sorting!

one of these days, i’m going to write the softest, most self-indulgent sso hogwarts au, because fuck, man, all i want is to see the soul riders at hogwarts. i would kill to see my favorite characters as wizards falling in love, navigating youth, and trying to simultaneously fight garnok and ace their exams. anyways, i’m going to explore this au more soon, but for now, here’s my sorting headcanons for who i can picture as a student. feel free to add any of your own headcanons and help me brainstorm!

gryffindor:

alex, anne, madison, mica, rania, alonso

hufflepuff:

lisa, tan, maya, jupiter, keema, emma

ravenclaw:

linda, syntax, ming yue, violet, luciana, kora

slytherin:

james, justin, loretta, silencia, ricky, thalia

[bittertomato]

Yooo just passing by to leave this here... 🎵 📚 🌍 😭 and the one after it but i can't see the emoji (has a fic ever made your face hurt from laughing so much?)

Yooooo. I’m pretty sure you’ve already passed by and left LOLOLOLOL sorry for the late answer but thank you for sending one in XD

🎵 What do you listen to while you read?

Answered here but since I change videos around so much I might as well offer an alternative XD

📚 What’s the longest fic you’ve read in one sitting?

Also answered here but I might as well mention others, right?

I don’t actually remember if I read all of this in one sitting, but Child of Earth by Gilmare on FFN is pretty long. I don’t remember how long it took to read though.

Yes, as you can see my long fics tend to be from Sailor Moon LOL. The older fandoms can write. Also, they had a lot of time to finish posting chapters lol.

🌍 What is your dream AU?

An alternative to my answer here would be a Fate AU with all of my favs as Servants LMFAO. I have considered writing this but I refuse there’s too many characters and idek how that would work.

😭 Has a fic ever left you inconsolable?

Probably? Maybe? I don’t know actually. I tend to like it when my favs suffer so... I honestly don’t remember if any have left me inconsolable. I get a better emotional response from visuals lol.

I think the best fic I can think of is Full of Grace by Silencia del Umbrae for Frozen. I remember reading it for the first time like 3 years ago, getting to the end, and going “what the fuck did I just read?”

🤣 Has a fic ever made your face hurt from laughing so much?

Yes! I just! Cannot remember! Which one! Is the one! That sent me! Into a laughing fit! The most lol. I know @sailorportia​‘s butch!Diana has made me laugh, but I know there are others. 

[joakimantonio]

Quando você silencia, grita, elogia ou critica, eu retiro sua roupa de letras e leio você. Cada palavra carrega um, "eu sou". Todo silêncio tem o peso do viver. Joakim Antonio #poeta #escritor #writer #writing #joakimantonio #poetry #poet #brasil #brazil #poesia #quote #frases #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #writers #writersofinstagram #writersofig #writerscommunity #writers #poetrycommunity (em São Paulo, Brazil) https://www.instagram.com/p/BnACDkeh86L/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=10f58xxxerbvu

[desemprego]

write about

Você diz não ser romântica e pede que eu entenda.

Te peço um carinho, uma surpresa, umas palavras, um gesto. Silencia.

Imploro com os olhos um momento de ternura e você diz que não entende essa carência minha repentina.

Emburreço para que transpareça o que sinto e o que recebo é outra cara emburrada em sinal de desaprovação.

Queria dizer que não, mas isso dói a longo prazo.

Ao prazo que te dei para termos a próxima conversa sobre o nosso futuro ou destino.

Queria ter mais coragem.

Você diz não ser romântica e pede para que eu entenda, mas necessito de uma demonstração de afeto uma vez ou outra.

Não cobrar o que deve ser involuntário eu repito várias vezes em minha cabeça. Desculpa por isso.

Então me lembro da sua pouca vontade de me ver e me ter em sua cama nas noites de frio, de tédio, de fogo.

Por que estamos aqui ainda?

Queria ter mais coragem para dizer tudo diretamente a você mas tenho medo de ouvir uma resposta que faça tudo parar.

Seguimos.

Até quando, eu não sei.

[silenciawrites]

NaNo “Weekly” Update 3

Good morning! I have literally nothing to say for myself.

Project: Stonecast and other various writings Status: Draft 1 complete Word Count: 153,902/50,000

Excerpt:

Where is Li?

She sits up, or tries to--her body barely lets her shift a few inches up before it gives out on her and she collapses back down. With a surprised hiss, she tries again. This time she can’t really force herself up at all. 

“Shh,” says a voice from an angle outside of her range. Zolenna’s body doesn’t even move, but the shock of the unexpected sound--it’s not Li. It’s a stranger. 

“You’re all right,” the voice continues, a little too patiently. “Your friend is here, too, worrying themselves sick about you. Everything is fine. You just need to stay still and be quiet.” 

The owner of the voice appears in the corner of Zolenna’s vision, closing in until she can finally make out features. Sharp, is the first thing that comes to mind--the jut of her chin, the blade of her nose, the prominent cheekbones and darting smile. Her hair is short and as black as Zolenna’s own, though it has more curl than hers. 

She looks...familiar, somehow. Not her actual face. Zolenna knows she does not know this girl. But her features, the way she looks. She looks like many of the students Zolenna has known in the past.

“Your friend says that you’re travelers here, and that the desert is outside of your usual range. I would say that sounds about accurate.” She smiles again, but there’s no humour in it. “If you weren’t, you would know better than to go out and fiddle with the night cactuses. They don’t take kindly to it.”

Her lips part slightly, but what comes out instead of a question is really more of a breath. The stranger seems to understand, though, because she smiles and shrugs. “You’re not going to die,” she says, which wasn’t really what Zolenna wanted to know--after all, she is going to die, if all goes as planned. It’s just a question of when. She wants to know if Li is all right, what happened to them, how they got here. Those sorts of things.

“That’s just how night cactus works,” the stranger says calmly, completely ignoring Zolenna’s pointed mental questions in a way that seems very rude. “It starts with hallucinations. Then paralysis. Then muscle weakness. I saw you move a little, so I know we’re getting through to the last part. Once that’s over, you should start to feel like yourself again.” She briskly adjusts the thin sheet before resting a hand just above Zolenna’s forehead. Not actually touching her. Li must have asked them not to. 

She has never appreciated Li enough.

--

Tag list: @writekaywrite @tinbramble @toboldlywrite (I think?) I’ve finished Stonecast so my last update will probably be on some other writings I am doing, but hey, we’re moving!

[universitybookstore]

For the last three days, I have been devouring a short novel by Mozambican writer, Mia Couto called CONFESSION OF THE LIONESS – unless it’s really been devouring me. I feel like I’ve been attacked. I’ve gasped every few pages, hit by shock after shock. Sometimes I have to put the book down until my breathing becomes normal again. I don’t see Couto’s surprises coming; they just sort of erupt out of the darkness and hit you. This is not magical realism; it’s taking another belief system as real. With a name that sounds like an African woman, this white African man known as Mia Couto writes like no one else, and yet all the classic conventions of a novel are there underneath the shocking African newness. My first impulse on finishing it was to start at the beginning and read it over again, to see how the hell he did that! It’s quite a performance in plotting and suspense, with writing that’s consistently brilliant until it blows up on itself at the end.

CONFESSION OF THE LIONESS by Mia Couto Regular price $16 20% off at University Book Store Our price: $12.80

LIONS HAVE SURROUNDED THE VILLAGE

Mariamar knows that her sister, Silencia, was the most recent victim of the lions attacking the villagers of Kulumani in Mozambique. She also knows the hunter who has arrived to kill the marauding animals – they’ve met years before, when the moody charmer Archie Bullseye saved her from the unwanted attentions of the village policeman.

Now Archie and Mariamar are the only two who suspect what is really happening as village terror mounts and the lions are not the only danger. The real danger may be that Archie is in love with someone else.

Told in alternating diaries between Mariamar and Archie, this plunge into ancient African religion and deadly contemporary jealousies builds to an unforgettable encounter.

Come discuss the book with us!

Nick’s Picks Book Club UNIVERSITY BOOK STORE 4326 University Way NE The bookstore café Monday, July 31, 6 pm

You’ve never read anything quite like this before. Take the plunge. It’s a real rollercoaster of an experience, so be ready for the floor to drop out from under you! -- Nick

[silenciawrites]

NaNo Weekly Update 2

I’m on social media moratorium until everything calms down IRL, so if I’m not responding to anything that’s why. I’m still around and still writing! Project: Stonecast Status: Complete Draft 1 Word Count: 37 715/50 000 --- Excerpt: When Zolenna walks towards the Seeing Stone, it seems to shine in all the colours of the stones scattered around her feet. She closes her eyes and lifts her hand. The minute it makes contact, she has a bare second to think it’s warm before she’s swept off her feet.

There’s no need for a casting circle here. No need for prayers or wishes for the Lady to guide her. She’s already been granted all the guidance she will need. A book, fresh and new, bound in clean leather. A young woman, who looks rather like a young Tali, holding the book between her hands and smiling down at it. “For future generations,” Zolenna hears her whisper, “I will entrust this to you, to my children.” She’s drawn out of the room, out of the building, and finds herself looking down on the desert town where she had met Amari, where everyone else that she had seen had looked so much like her. It’s bigger in her vision now, bustling with activity and life, and she can’t help but wonder what had happened to make it so much smaller, quieter. Sadder. Her vision blurs around the edges, and when it clears again, she sees a man riding into town: a horse, not a donkey, which is the first thing that identifies him to her as an outsider. There had been no horses in town then. His clothes are wrong, too; he dresses like one of the men from the city. He’s too pale; she’s never seen anyone look more out of place than this man does in this city. Around him, the desert sun seems to pulse red. She doesn’t like him.

She blinks, and he’s riding through the town, heading towards the house where the woman had been. It’s not the same time frame; she can tell by the way the town looks. It’s smaller already, but still bright and busy. She grits her teeth against the urge to scream at any one of the passersby in the street who stop to look at him, Stop him, don’t let him go there, don’t let him find her.

He enters the house, and she’s drawn in after him, as little as she wants to go. When she focuses again, he’s holding the book. Its leather looks a little older, softer around the edges, but it’s still well-tended. To keep it safe, he’s telling the old woman in the house (who looks like Tali but is not), to preserve it for your future generations. To teach your children. Don’t let him take it! she screams in her head, but the old woman doesn’t hear her. The conversation goes on for a lot longer, but she hears no more words, only faint murmurs as though she were listening from behind a thick wall. But she sees the results well enough: he leaves with the book under his arm, and when he rides out of town, the book goes with him. She watches children filter away from the town in the desert, watches them ride away with men and women who are not their parents. There’s a soft blur around the edges of the vision, and by now she’s realized that indicates the passage of time. She watches the children vanish, and never return. Parents begin to try to hide them, going into the desert with them whenever the strangers come through town. Some of them succeed. More of them don’t. --- I have been taking a few odd turns over the course of the last few chapters, but we’re back on track again. Tag list: @writekaywrite @tinbramble

[silenciawrites]

Snippet Saturday

So things have been...rough, lately. I’ll continue to do these when I can but my twice-a-month schedule (what is weekly? never heard of her) may be disrupted for the next little bit as I deal with family things and school suddenly getting mean again. 

For now, enjoy the moment Ebony knew she fucked up.

From Part 2, Chapter 3.

----

The minute she’s back within the great walls of Novus Aevum, Ebony makes a beeline for the great black stone. If she’s fast, maybe she’ll make it there before Ayra does. They’re supposed to meet there anyway, but Ebony wants to talk to--

the Saint--

--the woman in the stone first. 

It looks just the same as it had before, but to Ebony’s ear it seems to hum softly on her arrival. Pulses of warmth seem to leak from it as she gets closer; it moves, subtly, beating like some great heart. That should be creepy. (It is, a little.) But she knows why it’s happening and tries not to think about it. 

She approaches slowly, as though it might startle and flee if she moves too fast, the way deer in the forest had when she was a child. She’s always too fast, everyone says so. Gently, she lays a hand on the warm smooth stone. Hello? she thinks, experimentally. 

I am here, says a voice, soft and far away. It’s both like and not-like the one from the desert; it’s the woman who lives in the stone now, not the one who’d lived in the world then. Smoother. Colder. A little lower, like she hasn’t spoken to anyone in a very long time. What do you wish to ask? 

There’s so much she wants to ask that she doesn’t know where to start. But she’s been given a quest now, hasn’t she? She has a duty. I have to find him, she says, for Aza to be safe. Her free hand curls around the flute that she’d shoved into a pocket. 

It takes a little while, but when the Saint speaks next, her voice comes through much more clearly. She says, Where you saw him first will give you all the answers you need. I’m sorry. That’s all the Timescape can tell me. The rest is up to you. 

That is some bullshit. Is that what you said to them? Ebony demands, her stomach tightening as she thinks of the youngest of the Visionaries, the only one who’d looked her in the eye that whole day. Why didn’t you stop him? They were your chosen! Why didn’t you save them? 

There’s an even longer silence. The Saint’s reply, when it comes, is slightly hesitant. She sounds, Ebony’s afraid to think, confused. The Shards are my chosen. I would have saved her, had she not saved herself first. 

Not her. I know you’d have saved her. The Visionaries--the ones who died--the Order says... She trails off, abruptly afraid of what she might hear. 

The...what? 

Ebony is rapidly getting a very bad feeling. Well, it’s been a long time since the Saint spoke to anyone. Maybe the name changed, or the language is different now--anything to explain why the Saint doesn’t seem to know what she’s talking about. Your worshippers? 

My what.

---

...oops.

Tag list: @writekaywrite @toboldlywrite @tinbramble @scribble-dee-vee @lady-redshield-writes

(as always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged!)

[silenciawrites]

Snippet Saturday

I’m just not even going to try to explain myself anymore. I am a Mess of a human and that is just how it is sometimes.

From Part 1, Chapter 4.

---

“We’ve known each other twelve years.” Ebony rocks back on her heels, tilting her head back to look more easily up into Aza’s face. “I’ve seen you in my dreams for most of my life.”

“We’ve known each other for three days,” Aza corrects gently. “The church saw to that.” She slides off the edge of the bed so that she and Ebony are once again closer to level. It’s like the time she’d made light in the dark hallway as a child--natural, unthinking. “You deserve to be free, if leaving here is your wish. I would not hold you down.”

“You weren’t listening.” Ebony realizes she’s still holding Aza’s hands, but she can’t bring herself to let go, not until Aza hears her. “I was waiting. I didn’t know it, but I’m sure now that I was waiting for you. I didn’t remember meeting you when we were kids, not until I saw you again, but I’ve dreamed of you for years. I never believed in that kind of stuff, but I--I think I’m supposed to be here, to help you get out, to do whatever comes next. I don’t think you could hold me down.”

That feral quality has left Aza’s eyes, and now they just look sad and haunted. “Well,” she says softly, “we have time to decide all of that. For now, I think your plan is a good one. We have to deal with the Visionaries first, and then...and then we can talk about what happens after.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not exactly a no either. Ebony decides to leave it for now, but plan as though she’ll be coming. Even if they don’t end up sticking together once they get there, it’s not as though she knows where else to take Aza if it comes down to it.

“When can you be ready?” Aza asks even as she finishes thinking it. 

She wants to say now, now, let’s go right now, fuck the plan I can get you out today. But some last vestige of common sense rears its head. “I have to make sure everyone’s ready and on the same page,” she says, “and I have to get Petranna the security system schematics. If...let’s say day after tomorrow. Can you be ready by then?”

Aza smiles at her, but it’s sad. She gestures around the room. “What would I possibly have to take with me?”

It’s as empty as it’s ever been, cold and sad behind all the brilliant white of it. For a moment, Ebony thinks she sees what it must have been like, to be here all this time with no one on her side. The urgent need to get her out rises again, swelling, choking her with its desperation. The feeling is her own, mostly, but also somehow not. (She’s not usually this emotional. It’s not usually safe.)

“Day after tomorrow,” she promises instead of letting the rush of emotion out. “I’ll come get you. We’ll find the Visionaries and we’ll handle it. And after that we’ll...we’ll decide what to do. Okay?”

Aza’s hands gently cup her face, touching her with a tenderness she’s never felt before. “After,” she agrees. “I’ll be waiting for you then. Be careful, Ebony. And…” she trails off for a moment, then says, “and thank you for coming to find me again.”

---

remember when I thought it would take most of the book for them to register their Feelings? I remember.

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