#Winter Storm Nathaniel

[vigilskeep]

harker do you have any idea when the fifth blight starts and ends? like it’s in 9:31 or smth but like… what month?

okay, so, forewarning, the dates we know are a bit of a mess.

we know for sure that the fifth blight starts and the battle of ostagar takes place in 9:30 dragon, and that the blight ends in 9:31 dragon.

we also know that by the end of the six months between dao and awakening, it’s still 9:31, and i actually just found out that we have a very precise date: if you execute nathaniel, there’s apparently a line of formal sentencing which states it is “the seventeenth of ferventis”. ferventis/justinian is june. the weather is a bit cheerless for june, but i suppose the climate is still recovering from the blight and the locations are, like, the storm coast and the blackmarsh. the wending wood is june-ish enough. if we agree that the archdemon is slain six months prior as the game states, but it must have been in 9:31, then the fifth blight ended and the archdemon was slain in wintermarch/veremensis, which is january. what a hideous time of year for medieval warfare.

in the dwarf noble origin, a codex entry featuring the journal entries of trian aeducan (who dies during the origin, pre-ostagar), has dates through ferventis, going right up to the events of the origin. which would place the fifth blight as the 6-7 months from june/justinian 9:30 to january/wintermarch 9:31. is that fairly reasonable? seems fairly reasonable to me

the reasons you might take that with a grain of salt are firstly that wynne has dialogue during the game referencing it being “almost a year” since a mage warden left the tower, although i think we can discard this because it can literally trigger at any point in the game once she’s recruited, making it sometimes baffling. secondly, a complete dwarven pregnancy takes place between the dwarven origins and a dwarf warden’s return to orzammar (brosca’s nephew, or potentially a male aeducan’s son), not to mention oghren manages to have a child in the six months between dao and awakening. they clearly handwaved this a bit, and i think it’s fair to brush it aside with small hc timeline edits if you have a dwarf warden, or the suggestion that dwarves have shorter pregnancies than humans, which is a nice bit of fantasy variation to throw in there

but shoutout to the implication that doing orzammar last is most amenable to canon and that the warden had to cross gherlen’s pass to orzammar and back in the thick of a fereldan winter, because that’s horrific

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

Eternal winter AU Nathaniel finding Sigma alone and scared of a winter storm (Fyodor and Nikolai out for hunting perhaps) 👀

i present: nathaniel and sigma strange besties agenda and fyolai

(also this got long so i'm putting them both under a cut lol)

It's on one of the colder days that Nathaniel finds Sigma outside, staring up at the snow as it forms. It hasn't turned into a storm yet, but he's lived long enough to know it'll whip up into one soon. He stands at their side, waiting for an acknowledgement, and when one doesn't come, he sets his hand on Sigma's shoulder. Sigma's head whips around immediately, but he relaxes when he realizes it's just Nathaniel. "Oh." "You shouldn't be out here right now." Nathaniel states, letting his hand fall back to his side. Sigma's warmth fades as soon as it came, Nathaniel's palm cold once more. He still hasn't grown used to that, the way his body freezes so easily. "I know." Sigma takes a breath; it's visible in the cold air. Nathaniel watches it fade, then looks back at Sigma. There's an uneasiness in their stance like prey, though Nathaniel shakes his head, ridding it of that thought as quick as he can. He's already sinful enough by virtue of the existence he's been forced into. He can't prove to God that he's truly a demon, not when a possible savior is right at his side. Sigma's hand wraps around Nathaniel's, and they smile softly at him. "Let's.. let's head back to Fyodor's." Nathaniel just holds theirs in return, the bit of warmth welcome in the bitter temperatures. // Fyodor hasn't forgiven Nikolai. Not really. He has no desire to, especially with the risk Nikolai has put them in. They've always lived a dangerous, dangerous balance. Fyodor cannot fade completely into the background lest they lose business, but he also cannot let Nikolai be so publically known. The vampire would get them cast out into the cold, and Fyodor already struggles with keeping warm as is. His anemia will hardly ever be cured, after all. He's not happy about having another bloodsucker to feed, and he doesn't like letting Sigma be Nathaniel's juicebox. So. Here he is, keeping an eye on Nikolai to make sure he doesn't pull anything like that again, hugging his coat round his shoulders to keep what heat he can insulated. Nikolai looks back at him and flashes him a grin, those sharp teeth glinting in what light the clouds allow. Fyodor meets his gaze with a tired glare.

[lysapadin]

More whale posting! Let’s talk about Ahab.

I applaud Ishmael for trying to be generous and saying that it was the loss of his leg that drove Ahab around the bend, but Ishmael, honey, I think the man was already there:

His three boats stove around him, and oars and men both whirling in the eddies; one captain, seizing the line-knife from his broken prow, had dashed at the whale, as an Arkansas duellist at his foe, blindly seeking with a six inch blade to reach the fathom-deep life of the whale. That captain was Ahab.

One does not fling oneself into battle with the supernatural embodiment of malice aforethought armed only with a knife and expect to come out the other side in one piece unless one is a few crayons shy of a box of Crayolas.

But losing that leg sure didn’t help:

ever since that almost fatal encounter, Ahab had cherished a wild vindictiveness against the whale, all the more fell for that in his frantic morbidness he at last came to identify with him, not only all his bodily woes, but all his intellectual and spiritual exasperations. The White Whale swam before him as the monomaniac incarnation of all those malicious agencies which some deep men feel eating in them, till they are left living on with half a heart and half a lung.

and

All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick. He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.

Let’s just pause for a moment and linger on “as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it“ because goddamn, what a line. What the fuck, Melville, who gave you the right to write like this? Nathaniel Hawthorne could never, that’s why he ghosted you, honey, he was clearly jealous.

Ahem. Moving along. Regardless of when Ahab took up residence in Crazy Town, Population Him, he is definitely crazy:

Yet, when by this collision forced to turn towards home, and for long months of days and weeks, Ahab and anguish lay stretched together in one hammock, rounding in mid winter that dreary, howling Patagonian Cape; then it was, that his torn body and gashed soul bled into one another; and so interfusing, made him mad.

And his obsession has made him dangerously powerful:

his special lunacy stormed his general sanity, and carried it, and turned all its concentred cannon upon its own mad mark; so that far from having lost his strength, Ahab, to that one end, did now possess a thousand fold more potency than ever he had sanely brought to bear upon any one reasonable object.

and

He was intent on an audacious, immitigable, and supernatural revenge.

So much so that he can take his entire crew down with him:

morally enfeebled also, by the incompetence of mere unaided virtue or right-mindedness in Starbuck, the invulnerable jollity of indifference and recklessness in Stubb, and the pervading mediocrity in Flask. Such a crew, so officered, seemed specially picked and packed by some infernal fatality to help him to his monomaniac revenge. [...] by what evil magic their souls were possessed, that at times his hate seemed almost theirs; the White Whale as much their insufferable foe as his; how all this came to be—what the White Whale was to them, or how to their unconscious understandings, also, in some dim, unsuspected way, he might have seemed the gliding great demon of the seas of life,—all this to explain, would be to dive deeper than Ishmael can go.

It’s not just the whale that is supernaturally powerful; Ahab’s rage has made him supernaturally powerful as well. It’s made him cunning, too:

Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form. Ahab’s full lunacy subsided not, but deepeningly contracted;

and

Now, in his heart, Ahab had some glimpse of this, namely: all my means are sane, my motive and my object mad. Yet without power to kill, or change, or shun the fact; he likewise knew that to mankind he did long dissemble; in some sort, did still. But that thing of his dissembling was only subject to his perceptibility, not to his will determinate. Nevertheless, so well did he succeed in that dissembling, that when with ivory leg he stepped ashore at last, no Nantucketer thought him otherwise than but naturally grieved, and that to the quick, with the terrible casualty which had overtaken him.

He knows he’s gone around the bend, and he knows how to hide that from his employers and crew, at least long enough to get the Pequod out to sea. After that, though, well. Not even Starbuck can stop him now.

[ravenspeakrp]

The residents of Raven’s Peak awaken to fresh snowfall, discovering the town blanketed in white. Everyone carries on with business as usual; children enjoying the snow with snowball fights, sledding, and hot chocolates while others find the weather more of an annoyance, adding additional challenges to their workday commutes. By the end of the day children are all snuggling deep beneath the blankets of their beds dreaming of a snow day the next day to cancel school.

When morning comes, all memories of the snow have been washed away with a warmup overnight. The snowfall has transitioned over to dreary rainfall, coating everything in a layer of wetness. Disappointed children board their busses and the town continues life as usual. Throughout the morning, though, the temperature falls once more. All surfaces begin to freeze over in a rapidly growing layer of ice, which then covers over with snow as the precipitation switches from rain to sleet to snow. The rapid freeze makes any form of travel unsafe. Coupled with the blowing winds, navigating the outdoors is treacherous at best.

The weight of the ice on tree branches and power lines spell disaster for the town. Tree branches snap, damaging nearby buildings and power lines, causing blackouts throughout Raven's Peak. Slick roads and sidewalks cause the residents of town to become stranded with no way home, left with no other choice but to simply wait out the storm.

Fortunately, The Golden Spoon has plenty of food that can still be served without electricity, and candles are lit to bathe the cafe in a flickering, warm ambiance. Cassidy Sykes and Willow Chamberlain are on staff, trying to keep the customers calm as the winds batter the cafe. Baylie Quinn, Micah Boudreaux, Fitzroy Duncombe, and Nathaniel Wolfsong all find themselves waiting out the storm in the shelter of the cafe for various reasons. At least the cafe is comfortable, that is - until it isn't. The weight of ice and snow continues to grow on the rooftop of the cafe until suddenly, it caves in.

Cup O' Joy finds itself in a similar situation, trying to keep their customers calm while the storm rages outside the windows. When a window shatters from a particularly violent gust of wind, Samuel Armando Martinez sitting nearby finds themselves in the middle of the shop with a large shard of glass lodged into their skin. They need medical attention, but there isn't any to be found any time soon - and as time ticks on, how will the vampires, including young Luca Diaz, Lennon Sinclair, and Amadeus Gonzalez locked within the small space handle the tempting smell of blood growing thicker on the air by the minute? At least Kara Sykes is also within the coffee shop, trying to help in providing medical attention as well as keep the patrons under control.

Rhythm Realm has opened its doors to stragglers in town seeking shelter from the elements. The reliable staff have all made an appearance in hopes to lend helping hands, including Kai Winter, Jensen Reid, and Arden Reilly. Anyone nearby that was attempting to battle the storm was shuffled into the warmth of the shop, including Mollie Moore, Emily Powell, Jason Park, and Kelly Baudelaire. As comfortable as the music shop is from the elements, the elements take a turn on them and tensions rise amongst the group members. Under the weight of layers of ice, a nearby tree finally gives way and crashes into the building.

In the morning the roads hadn't seemed so bad. Aspen Blackwood had decided it would be easy enough to take their truck from visiting their parents ranch back into the heart of town, but soon found the roads impassible and ended up stranded. Neylani Smith was giving Mikael Blackwood a lift, but their vehicle ended up spinning out on a particularly rough patch of ice. Talia Cowen, desperate to get to the school to check on her daughter, was in no better condition as her tires spun uselessly on the pavement. Then even before she can get out of the vehicle and begin considering a new plan, a car crashes into hers. Ria Nunez had lost control on the slick pavement and slid helplessly into her. Hopefully the damage isn't too bad! With most nearby buildings seemingly shuddered up due to the storm and car batteries quickly depleting, is it better to face the near whiteout conditions in hopes of finding somewhere to take shelter, or stay in their cars to await rescue or other options?

Oh, and if you remembered to check the calendar this morning, you may have noticed that there is a full moon tonight. The werewolves of town are especially on edge, eager to get themselves somewhere safe to endure the transition.

Out of character information

Please feel free to begin posting for this event immediately!

Note that if a character wasn't mentioned above, you are free to decide what they were up to during the storm.

Additionally, just because your character is mentioned in one of the scenarios above doesn't mean they are locked into it - if they wish to leave and reasonably can find a way, they certainly can! Or alternatively, you could write something they were up to prior to the scenario.

[harmonyhealinghub]

Winter's Last Song Shaina Tranquilino December 3, 2024 The snow fell silently outside Nathaniel Grey’s cabin, nestled deep within the frozen woods. It was the perfect retreat for the reclusive composer, whose fame had long since faded. His piano, a weathered Steinway grand, was the only constant companion in the solitude he craved.

Yet, tonight, he sat with his hands resting motionless on the keys. No symphony stirred in his mind, only the hollow echoes of his dwindling genius. The years had taken their toll, each note a little harder to find, each melody less inspired. The winter storm outside was just another reminder of his isolation, the world beyond lost to him.

But as the wind howled, something changed.

At first, he dismissed it as a trick of his fatigued mind: a faint melody threading through the roaring gusts. The longer he listened, the more he realized it wasn’t random. There was a structure, a pattern, haunting and beautiful. Rising and falling, it carried the weight of longing and loss, mingled with an eerie, unearthly cadence. It pierced the silence of his soul.

Nathaniel leapt to his feet, throwing open the window. Icy air rushed in, biting at his skin, but he didn’t care. The melody grew clearer, intertwining with the sound of the snow-laden trees swaying in the storm. The night seemed alive with music, as though the forest itself were an orchestra, the wind its conductor.

He scrambled to his desk, pulling out sheets of blank staff paper. His pen moved feverishly, transcribing the notes that poured from the storm. Hours passed unnoticed. Each measure was a revelation, as though the music was being whispered directly into his mind.

The storm abated just before dawn, and with its passing, the melody faded. Exhausted but elated, Nathaniel slumped over the piano. His hands trembled as he played the piece from the beginning, his heart surging with a renewed purpose he hadn’t felt in years. It was perfect, unlike anything he had ever composed before—achingly beautiful, transcendent.

But as the final note lingered in the air, he heard a voice behind him.

“That is my song.”

Nathaniel turned sharply. A figure stood in the doorway, draped in a cloak of frost and shadow. Its face was indistinct, shifting like smoke, but its eyes were sharp and piercing, reflecting the pale blue of the winter sky.

“Who—what are you?” Nathaniel stammered.

“I am the wind that carried the song. The voice of winter’s final breath,” the figure said, its voice melodic yet mournful. “You have taken what was not yours.”

“It was... a gift,” Nathaniel insisted, though he felt the chill of doubt creeping into his bones.

The figure tilted its head. “A gift, yes—but gifts from the beyond are not freely given. You have bound yourself to this song, and now, so too are you bound to me.”

Nathaniel’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”

“You will know when the final note plays,” the figure whispered, and then it was gone, dissipating into a swirl of frost that swept out the open window.

The composition, Winter’s Last Song, was an immediate sensation. Critics called it the work of a genius, audiences wept in the concert halls, and Nathaniel’s name was resurrected from obscurity. But the joy of his success was tempered by the figure’s warning.

As the years passed, he grew wary of playing the piece, fearful of what might happen when the final note sounded. Yet the world clamored for it, and his reluctance only made the demand greater.

It was on a winter night, much like the one when the song first came to him, that he agreed to perform it one last time. His fingers danced over the keys with a grace that belied his age, the haunting melody filling the grand concert hall. The audience was spellbound, their breaths held as the final, delicate note approached.

As it rang out, clear and crystalline, the world seemed to hold its breath. Nathaniel’s hands fell to his lap, his eyes closing as a serene smile spread across his face. When the audience rose to its feet, the applause thunderous, he did not stir.

Winter’s song had claimed its due.

[fatherhoodstory]

last summer

It’s well past midnight but the moon is almost full and there are long shadows behind things. The storms came heavy from the south as the sun went down and the pavement still shines in the dead glow of streetlights and moonlight, the air cleansed and cool for late August. East and south to the sea a heat wave bakes the landscape, killing livestock as they follow the patches of shifting shade. The ice is melting, the seas warm, entire forests take to flame like matchsticks and fill this valley, and our lungs, with the ashy remnants of the dead.

I stand among the sunflowers we planted in the spring, hundreds of them bathed in moonlight, heads slightly bowed, as if sleeping, waiting for the world to turn back towards the light. The soil beneath me is dark and rich, the smell taking me to quieter places. There is a frat party at the end of the block, drunken children walk by yelling and laughing, their conversations dark and stupid. Most stare down, necks and shoulders slumped into the dull glow of a phone, oblivious to the sunflowers, me, or the stars above them. A few of them look in my direction as I stand swaying gently with the sunflowers, the leaves and heads as big as basketballs. They say nothing and hurry along, not sure of what they saw but not looking again. I stand out here because you are sleeping and the noise of this place woke me. There are cars too, speeding up and down the street, screeching their tires amid the screams from the open windows. It sounds like the end of the world or the madness and chaos that might take place then and I could not sleep and now stand vigil in the night. I did this when you were younger, just a baby, but there were only coyotes then, yipping wildly at the moon, or bears, wolves, or a lone lion passing through in the shadows, and always the silhouette of mountains against the brightly speckled dark. The fire is here too, the coals grey and cold in the night. I can see the stain of Bison blood where I let it run out onto the cracked concrete as I peeled the skin back to reveal the skull. It found its way back to the soil here, an offering, to the memory of the place where we make our stand. This is the Valley of the Flower, and before John Bozeman or Nathaniel P. Langford ever thought about exploiting it, the People lived and hunted here; the Blackfeet, the Nez Perce, Lakota, Crow, and the Shoshone. I stand there with the Bison blood and flowers, looking out at the rivers below and the peaks beyond, what they call Yellowstone now, the Tobacco Roots, the Bridgers. There is no concrete, no cars, no drunk kids or people at all. It is quiet save the wind and distant thunder from the storm that has already moved on into another world. You sleep still and I can see your face, same as it ever was, and I hope that you can see this place in your dreams, the way it was and might be again someday, when the Buffalo return. In the morning it will be slightly colder, another winter waiting patiently for its time just over those mountains to the north. Time and memory fade now, deeper into the dark. Like space above, endless, unfathomably cold and black. Is there judgement after all this, redemption, or do we simple play out our lives below the void of this silent expanse? After a while I can rest and lay down again. It is almost 3 and I have been standing out here for hours. The drunks and cars and intensity of things grows as quiet as it ever does here. The train blows it's horn again and again for they never stop, the coal they dig and carry must feed the fires that burn the world.

In the morning I will be tired and you will be rested. You will never know that I stood watch long after you were asleep, after I fell asleep beside you and wake and stand in the night. As long as I am able I will stand vigil and protect you, even if it is only from the dark and cold that surrounds us.

[luckypandaland]

LIFE'S COMPLEXITIES

These Tumblr posts reveal interlinked themes that deeply resonate with the human experience. Therefore, taking us on an everyday journey through art, nature, and reflection.This manifesto's central idea is the study of the ocean's depths using Nathaniel Hawthorne's poem "The Ocean." The author of this poem creates a sense of calm during times of uncertainty in his verses by comparing the calm water with the restless Earth. The other posts all touch on this theme of finding comfort in the midst of chaos, which reflects the writer's desire to find clarity and peace in the beauty of nature. Another post we can look at that relates is the one where the author is analyzing the interiors of buildings, thus providing insight into how interior spaces and mental health  interact. These places, starting from the small, dark kitchen to the broad, welcoming restaurant, express the diversity of human feeling and the desire for comfort and a sense of belonging. These areas become sanctuaries among the storms of everyday life, providing relief and refuge, much like the quiet depths of the ocean. So as you can see a similar theme is being established throughout the author's posts. Each one has their own way of conveying the complexities of life. Whether it’s trying to establish peace in a world of chaos or in general trying to establish yourself as a human and finding where you belong. We see this again through the pure energy of conflict and unrest in Ali Banisadr's painting "Interrogation”. Which is characterized by it’s spontaneous brushstrokes. The tense feelings sparked by Hawthorne's ocean are mirrored by the whirling colors and blurry forms, which show an inner sense of conflict. However, in the middle of the destruction, there is a feeling of resilience and hope, which is evidence of the human spirit's ability to persevere and triumph over hardship. As if all of that wasn't enough, the author also portrays the EMOTIONAL complexities of life, beginning with Hamlet. Act 3, Scene 4, which is commonly known as the "closet scene." Hamlet and Queen Gertrude's strongly felt encounter here reveals depths of grief, anger, and responsibility. The complexity of their relationship is revealed through careful staging, highlighting the interaction of motives and emotions that form the story. This scenario is a small example of human interaction, providing insights into the characters' inner struggle through visual and nonverbal clues. Lastly, using a series of images that show Niagara Falls at different times of the day and year, we explore the themes of perspective and change. From summer's lush greenery to winter's freezing hold, every picture presents a different angle on how this natural beauty changes. These images act as windows into time, emphasizing the value of accepting change and the transforming force of the natural world. To me this post conveys the message that perspective is everything, just because we see or experience things one way does not mean everyone does the same we did. As humans we have to take this into consideration because it allows for those emotionally complex times in life to be turned into a chance to emotionally mature. Once we are able to shift our perspective, deal with change, and control our emotions, we are one step closer to mastering life's complexities. In conclusion, throughout these blogs we are essentially told a story of connectivity that touches on art, nature, and reflecting.  We explore the complicated details of life through poetry, art, music, and reflection, finding comfort and purpose in the wonder of interconnection. And along the way, we learn that even in the middle of disaster, the quiet depths of the ocean always offer a peaceful embrace that brings clarity and serenity to those navigating life's storms.

[easthavenhq]

The event has officially ended!

Within the days proceeding the storm, most of the town was closed and volunteers could be seen helping any damaged buildings block the snow from getting in and removal of snow from sidewalks, streets, and around cars. By the end of this week, power will be restored in all of town and with the rise of temperatures, snow levels have started to go down. It may take some time, but slowly the town will get back to normal. We will be keeping the damages list up in our discord for all the businesses and feel free to write your character volunteering to help any of these places. It'll be a while before the whole town is back up and running, so remember that for future threads.

Any event threads can be continued to get to a conclusion, but you are more than welcome to start new ones or continue any from before the event. Thank you to all that has participated and we hope you had fun!

And now a message from Mayor Clairmont:

To the citizens of East Haven,

I am deeply saddened by the destruction Saturday's storm did to not just our city, but to all of you as well. However, seeing you all come together at a time like this to lend a hand and help out really shows that this city is a force to be reckoned with itself. We are overcoming this challenging time together and we will help our neighbors recover from the damages.

I want to thank all the volunteers out there helping businesses and their neighbors start on repairs and helping out at East Haven Memorial as well. We at city hall would like to extend that help and divide up the earnings from our Valentine's Charity Auction as well as any from the Winter Festival to help pay for repairs to our businesses.

I am proud of you, East Haven, and happy to call myself the mayor of this strong community.

~ Mayor Nathaniel Clairmont

[thexdesk]

THE PREAMBLE:

The minutes from the Quiet Council of Krakoa’s meeting as explained by Mister Sinister.

 This meeting was called to take a vote. After several high profile mutants were kidnapped and absorbed into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Pleasant Hill, the Council made a wartime decision to execute the reality warped victims and resurrect them as whole beings once more. This was done without an official vote. Word has officially leaked to both Krakoa and the Avengers, neither of which are happy. Now, a new problem presents itself. The mutants who weren’t saved are now trapped under a faulty spell by the Scarlet Witch and Wiccan that has returned them to themselves but left their Pleasant Hill counterparts in their heads. The Council must now decide if they will once again execute and resurrect, or if they will have to find another way to fix things.

The following come from the private journal of Nathaniel Essex, the mutant known as Mister Sinister. These private musings are indicative of his personal views. They also seem to imply that Essex is working on some other plot, but no other journal entries have been recovered.

THE PROCEEDINGS:

It seems everyone was quite naughty in my absence. It figures, of course, that the meeting I missed would be the one where they finally reveal their bloodlust. Oh, Quiet Council. You dirty, corrupt thing you. How bad you’ve been. But alas, the Council sits whole again with the exception of Storm. Her hands are in so many pots that I hope she won’t see my true designations until it’s too late. In any case, she refuses a back-up. If she happened to eat it (oopsies!) there will be no resurrections for the so called goddess. This is very good.

Back to the matters at hand.

The Council’s little transgression has been revealed to the world. The snapped necks of Jean Grey, Hope Summers and darling Destiny may have solved the problem in the moment but now have created a larger one. Harm no man. A ridiculous rule, really. Man has harmed man since before Cain offed Able. But no, no. Krakoa is oh so very good until it has an excuse to not be. It’s almost commendable how gray the moral center of Krakoa is.

Today, the Council takes an “official”  vote on if the murder spree can continue. At least four mutants have returned from that little town corrupted. Shall we snap their necks as well and give them a good ol’ resurrection? The proceeding are as messy as always.

The Question: should we stick with the tried and true method of snapping necks and resurrecting the poor souls? 

The responses are as follows:

Charles Xavier unsurprisingly says no. There’s much he’ll do for his nation, but I believe the word “optics” comes up. Oh, Chuck. Still operating under the guise of a man with morals.

Vote: 1 against, 0 in favor.

Hope Summers votes yes. It happened to her and she lived through it, pun intended. She’s a true thorn in my side. If my plans are to come into fruition (they’re secret, so don’t ask what they are yet), then I’ll have to dispatch her first — and quickly. I’ll have to get rid of her religious nut of a guard dog as well. 

He — Exodus — votes yes as well, by the way. Considering Hope’s vote, that’s unsurprising. 

Vote: 1 against, 2 in favor.

Nightcrawler and Colossus are as unshakably upstanding as always and vote no. Kurt is a man of a God (a God that’s not real, mind you) and has morals. Colossus is being mind controlled by the Russians — but we don’t know that yet. For Nightcrawler, it’s more than “optics”. It’s morality. The Council has a duty to people to act with the upmost sense of justice. Honestly, the entire spiel is rather long and self indulgent. I’m not sure where he gets it considering the fact that his mother is so amoral. It’s clearly not genetic. Considering the fact that Storm is on Arakko, her vote is forfeited. That means the Summer faction of the Quiet Council is in agreement.

Vote: 3 against, 2 in favor.

We turn now to the Winter faction, where yours truly sits. I have been in close conference with my dear old acquaintances, Destiny and Mystique. As always, Irene says the same thing: if we are to win, we must work together. She’s a tricky little precog. Working together is not always what it seems, though. I know what she’s told me in cryptic words. I cast my vote:

Mister Sinister votes no. This is the only way, apparently. I trust no one but I will not be caught playing the fool. Not when I have so much I need to accomplish. That’s why it’s a surprise when Destiny casts her vote.

Destiny votes yes. That little snake. I can’t see her face behind that damned gold face plate, but her head tips to the side. I know what that means. Hold the course. 

Mystique votes yes. She would have even if her wife hadn’t. Raven’s always been incredibly trigger happy. With my dissenting, the Winter faction stands divided.

Vote: 4 against, 4 in favor.

The final decision will be decided in the Spring faction where the Hellfire Trading Company rules supreme. If there’s anyone to finalize the vote, I would have preferred it not to be them. Shaw drinks and it’s only 9 am. Ariel-Sprite-Kitty-Kate is as self-righteous as Kurt is. And Emma? What is there to say about Emma Frost that has not been said already? She is a Frost through and through: ruthless, selfish, cold. Her predictable nature will no doubt be shown in her vote.

Kate Pryde votes no. She has to speak about it, of course. Krakoa wasn’t forged as an independent nation so we could murder with impunity. Impunity. Someone clearly did well on her vocabulary test. The poor dear has eighteen failed resurrections. Perhaps one can’t blame her for being hesitant when it comes to using it as a solution, but I think her reluctance may be a sign of a bigger weakness overall.

Vote: 5 against, 4 in favor.

Sebastian Shaw votes yes. Again, unsurprising. He makes a point to note that people die all the time. With his vote, the motion is tied. The White Queen will end the tie breaker and we’ll continue to snap the necks of... Oh? But what is this?

Vote: 5 against, 5 in favor.

Emma Frost votes no. What is this? A no? Her own daughter is among those suffering, but she stands in opposition? This — this — is a surprise. I spy with my little black eye Destiny nod at her from across the chambers. It would seem Irene’s voice is in more than just my ear. The White Queen provides little reasoning and the vote ends.

Vote: 6 against, 5 in favor. The Vote is over. The motion has failed.

I’ll spare you, reader, the rest. The Council continues the session before dispersing. Oh, how badly I’d like to know what Destiny has told the White Queen or what’s been promised. I doubt Emma will tell me, that shrewd bitch. I’ll have to wait, just like I must for many other things. The Council has reached a decision that leaves some unhappy. I wonder how unhappy they’ll be when my dominos fall into place soon. I wonder how proud they’ll be when I bring them to their knees. Yes, I wonder.

But that’s for another time, isn’t it?

[xiomarawinters]

The Winters sisters had always been told they looked scarily identical, but Cadie and Xiomara couldn't have looked less similar that evening if they tried. While Xiomara's hair had been freshly cut to her chin, straightened so that the ends looked razor sharp, Cadie's locks had been curled to an inch of their life, wrapped up in a gaudy, bow-shaped updo. Xi's golden dress hugged her body, revealing long legs adorned by sharp stilettos. She looked dangerous. Leocadie, however, looked like Shower Pouf Barbie, her spray tan just a shade too orange for the eyes to stay entirely restful.

And Xiomara hadn't even had a chance to snap some witty remark at her sister, before she burst in high-pitched French: "Can I see it? The ring?"

Xi squeezed Nate's arm, but looked puzzled, "What ring?"

In a show of absolute mercilessness, Cadie switched to English before she commented, "Our Maman et son Pere said Nathaniel's proposing tonight!"

Xiomara immediatley released herself from Nate's arm, her face pulling up in disgust as she looked across at him, "... No you are fucking not."

Who the fuck did Nate think she was, that she would want a proposal while she was wearing a borrowed dress? And at someone else's Christmas soiree, of all places? When her nails weren't done? So angry with him, Xi didn't even wait for his gape-mouthed response before storming away in search of the wine for which she'd bothered dragging herself there.

Dismissive of Xiomara's anger, Cadie grinned up at Nate, "This is simply the best news. We must start planning an engagement party at once. Do you think you'll get married in France? Oh, silly, of course you would. Xiomara would never let the children be raised in England."

---

Xiomara's march to the corner of the room, where a fountain of dirigible plum wine awaited her, felt far too quick. She was furious, and hot, and annoyed. The glasses resting on the table tinkled as she grabbed a bottle and poured herself a glass, and she glared at them, laying her palms flat on the tablecloth. There was no point reminding herself to breathe, to steady herself, to keep her entropy at bay. When she gulped down the wine, she was forced to inhale anyway, practically slamming the glass down when she was done.

"Always knew how to make an entrance, my son." Xiomara froze at the voice behind her, her muscles tensing. The wine fountain was pouring into a waiting bowl, and it rippled as she stared through it, threatening to burst. Her toes curled in her shoes.

"He's not with me," She said, still staring at the wine. "He's with Cadie. He's by the door."

Hamilton sighed, inpatient for her to turn around. He waited, and Xiomara had to still herself before she did so. "Miss Winters, it's not him I want to talk to. I believe we had an agreement."

"It is difficult to keep 'is name in print when you publicly disown 'him..." Aurelie retorted quickly, raising her brows. She wasn't opposed to cutting off diseased branches of her own strong family tree in order to maintain its growth. But when economic deals had been put in place, and the pruning would put someone else out of their entitlement? Well. Aurie had an issue with that. And she had no problem reminding Hamilton of it. Fucking Americans.

She rolled her eyes at Hamilton's childish play- as good as standing there with his hands over his eyes, crying like a petulant child: 'I can't see them, so they don't exist!'. Aurelie finished her glass, dropping the flute on a passing waiter's tray, and sucking her teeth.

"If they show, you speak to 'im. I will speak to 'er. We need a ring, Pinnock."

"A ring?" Aurelie turned as her daughter approached. Leocadie was dressed in ostentatious hot pink tulle, complimented by the midnight blue dress robes of her husband, who strolled along with her, arm in arm. Even if Xiomara proved to be an eternal disappointment, at least Aurelie had Cadie. At least one of her children proved fruitful. "Who's getting a ring?" The blonde asked as she approached, looking between Hamilton and her Maman.

---

Xiomara's hand slipped into Nate's pocket, fingers clutching around the small plastic baggie and sliding it out, seamlessly making the stash appear in her purse with a few flicks of her fingers, like she was flicking away dust.

"... The fuck are we doing this for?" Xi sighed, smoothing her hands down the lapels of Nate's suit as if she hadn't just removed his only means of coping with the evening. "It's not too late. We can still go home and watch Jurassic Park."

"Tempting, Mrs Smith," Nate nodded, humming as if he were considering it. "But as I recall, someone wanted Dirigible Plum wine-"

"God, yes, I need that wine." Xi winced. The orange-tinted wine was a wizarding delicacy, shared only at Yuletide events. It was ridiculously expensive, so completely out of their budget, but also guaranteed to be at the night's festivities.

Nate offered his arm to her, and she sighed. Means to an end. Xiomara looped her arm in his, and a moment later, the pair apparated to the party.

[thelostjournals]

Here starts the constellation's song

Here starts the constellation's song that me and Nathaniel transcripted:

Mortals tell stories about a city. They call her a dazzling pearl of the ancient world. Her life was that of rulers and beggars, poets and bankers, old and young, men and women, and everyone in between. She knew neither sleep nor total darkness, although the parts of her that were dark bled the darkness like no other darkness known to mortals. Just as the parts of her that were bright bled the light like no other light in this world.

She was everything and everything could happen on her streets, her bazaars, palaces, universities, and slums. And while being everything, she was also her, distinct, unmistakable, unforgettable.

She was a city to tower over all cities and she indeed had a tower. An observatory from which one day the scholars saw the approaching storm, one of such strength that it would kill the city and all that lived in her.

Mortals say that the city's people packed and left in a matter of weeks, leaving behind only the empty shell, the city's corpse. They say that when the storm came, the devastation was so complete that the only parts of the city that survived were the few stones that were thrown so far into the sky that they formed a constellation.

This is a dead story, all its loose ends cut short, neat and oval like a pebble. I still remember pebbles. And I remember my death and my ascension. I remember being so alive that when destruction came, our reflection was imprinted into the night sky because the universe refused to forget us. I am the soul of the immortal city and all the filthy, beautiful people who died in me. I loved them all.

I didn't know how to roleplay a constellation, but yesterday I went to a friend.

I cycle everywhere, and to get to her flat I need to ride through the main street of my city. I live in one of the youngest cities in my country, the infrastructure was built mostly in the XIXth century, and instead of the main square, it has a long promenade that twenty years ago was cobbled with the names of people who lived here at the turn of the millennium.

It is still the season, so Christmas decorations are all there: light strings between street lights, a carousel made of Christmas lights, photobooths also made of Christmas lights, and electric raindeers. And, since it was 15 degrees Celsius (climate catastrophe helping this blog once again), there were a lot of people. I've never seen so many people on this street in winter (barring one massive winter charity event we have in Poland), and I used to perform there every weekend. They seemed happy, full of hope, slightly hungover from New Year parties, and absolutely beautiful.

About five hours later, after ten PM I was riding back, the soundtrack to Flicker and the Fade still in my headphones, and the street was empty, except for the crazy amount of lights and a few lonely pilgrims, one-third of them making pictures of the long, empty, lonesome shining street on New Year's late evening and I was in love with both faces of the city I saw that day.

And that's how I decided that my constellation will be a city immortalized.

This is the first entry in my The Flicker and the Fade playthrough. You can find the game here, so far it challenged my imagination in a way I really like: https://nyessa.itch.io/the-flicker-and-the-fade

[everythinginbooks]

Book recommendations; Young Adult fantasy pt. 1/?

So you're looking for new YA fantasy books to read, or you want to begin reading YA fantasy and don't know where to start. Don't worry you're in good hands. Below are a few books (and series) that I greatly recommend, I hope these will intruige you!

As always check trigger warnings and goodreads for more information.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson (2019)

Following Elisabeth Scrivener, we are introduced to a magical world with sorcerers, demons and enchanted books. Elisabeth has known her entire life that sorcerers are evil, but when she is accused of releasing a dangerous grimoire, she must turn to the sorcerer Nathaniel Thorn to prove her innocence, and ends up entangled in a conspiracy of old.

This one is, in my opinion, a read to tackle when you want something fun and light hearted (although I did get emotional near the end). It's fast paced, the magic system isn't too complicated to understand, and the cover is absolutely gorgeous. The characters will forever have a special place in my heart, especially Nathaniel, who I related to all throughout the book.

The Circle by Mats Strandberg and Sara Elfgren (2011)

Taking a dive towards the gritty side of urban fantasy, this book is sure to keep you awake into the late hours. This book follows a group of Swedish teenagers with newly gained magical powers as they learn they are The Chosen Ones. They aren't what you would consider friends, and the animosity in the group is intense, but to save the world they have to put their differences aside and work together.

I admit, this book sounds cliché and tame in my little blurb, but it's diffucult to read from the start, with violence and darker themes being in focus in most of the book. I personally loved it due to how insane the plot gets and how the characters act like real people I've met. It also gives an insight to an aspect in Scandinavian teen culture, which by being of that area myself can admit is quite similar to my own experiences, though not quite as gory. The soft magic system is really interesting, and I absolutely adore the characters.

This book is succeeded by Fire (2012) and The Key (2013).

Trigger warnings include depictions of suicide, self-harm, eating disorders and pedophilia.

The Girl Who Fell Beneath The Sea by Axie Oh (2022)

Inspired by The Tale of Shim Cheong and Spirited Away, this book combines traditional with fantastical, leaving us with a wonderous outcome. When Mina offers herself up as the sea god's bride instead of her brother Joon's beloved, Shim Cheong, she is swept away to the spirit world, where she sets it in her sights to wake up the sea god so the storms that ravage the land may be stopped.

This book found me at a time where I really needed it, and now it's my turn to help it find someone else. The colour and love that shine from this book is something that I didn't know you could feel so clearly. All characters are extremely lovable, and the writing will make you emotional more than once. It reads like a ghibli movie, which makes me want to petition the studio to turn this masterpiece of a book into a masterpiece of a movie.

Cinder by Marissa Meyer (2012)

Inspired by Cinderella, this book follows the cyborg Cinder on a sci-fi retelling of the brothers Grimm fairy tale. When she becomes entangled with the handsome prince Kai (and an entire intergalactic political mess featuring the Lunar queen Levana), Cinder must find answers in her past to save the future.

I absolutely LOVE the Lunar Chronicles; the writing is easy to get lost in (I finished Cinder in three or four hours), the world building is incredibly intruiging and the characters were easy to love. Personally, I was motivated to finish even faster by Levana's chapters, because they honestly gave me the biggest ick I've ever experienced by a book villain. Good job Marissa Meyer, I salute you for being able to write a sympathetic villain that I absolutely detest.

This book is succeeded by Scarlett (2013), Cress (2014) and Winter (2015).

Those are the recomendations! I hope you may find a world you fall in love with through my recommendations. I find that fantasy is one of the most enjoyable genres of literature, and so I was compelled to make this list.

Happy reading!

-Cami

[theblueskyofthedawn]

Prompt: include words “Winter. Dagger. Loss”.

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Branches scratched the glass, unable to resist the raging blizzard. The cabin, used to everything, held strong.

The young woman kept unemotionally finishing drawing a circle.

From her victim’s temple, on the floor steadily dripped blood.

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

– Amber? – Nathaniel frowned, seeing his sister that just returned from the market. – You’re pale. Everything’s well?

– Yes, yes, don’t pay much attention, – she wearily smiled. – Just...I thought I’ve seen someone.

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

– But that’s impossible! – the young man shook his head in despair. – I buried his corpse with my own two hands!

– Father’s coming for me, Nath, – the blonde girl whispered, heavily leaning on her brother’s shoulder. – He wants revenge on you…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

– Yes, I can help you, – witch’s black eyes captivated, drank his voice and shackled his will. – But everything will have its price.

– I accept, – words, on the edge of hearing, flew from his enchanted lips.

The witch smiled.

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

– Sister? – rumpled and sleepy, Nathaniel confusedly observed hustling in preparing Amber. – Where are you going? Midnight’s close.

– The witch asked me to come, – she shrugged, a little guilty. – Sorry that I didn’t warn you.

The young woman hauled her knapsack on her shoulder.

– For some reason, asked specifically today, before the first cockcrows, – she shyly smiled.

– And you’re going? – yawning immediately left the young man.

– Of course. I trust her. She saved me... – she bent to peck her brother on the cheek in farewell. – And because the one to trust her are you.

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

– But padre, you can’t leave it like that! – ruffled, wild-eyed, Nathaniel was ready to beg holy father on knees.

– But thou thyself preferred to contact for help her, not the church, – imperturbably, he replied. – Not to mention, – pale-emerald eye sparkled in the cell’s darkness, catching a reflection of the accidental lantern, – thee got quite an honest witch…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

A full moon was veiled in the storm clouds in a second, and Nath now barely ploughed through cold and wind in the face.

Witch’s cabin was just behind the corner…

The door flew open with the wind’s squeal.

– Why are thou here? – witch’s silhouette, in the dress to the floor, pressed down with power, and her voice – froze harsher than a blizzard.

But the human heart burned hotter.

– Why do you need my sister? You promised to save her!

– I promised to relieve her from the ghost, nothing more, – the witch only waved her hand. – She’s already doomed.

– Then I propose a new deal! What you need from her – take from me!

Snowstorm’s gust blinded him, and he didn’t see how widened in fear and surprise witch’s pupils in the light of the stirred-up hearth.

– Alright, – she inclined her head. – But it was thine own wish.

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Drip. Drip. Cre-e-eak…

Nathaniel wheezed and coughed, choking on the smothering fumes of herbs.

– Thou are just in time, – the witch loomed over him, and the subtle shine of the silver dagger reflected in the amber eyes. Behind her back ignited and danced, showing off, candles’ flames.

Two more flared up to both sides of him.

And one behind, supporting a storm of life in the black pools.

The pentagram, finalized.

– Why do you need...all that? – his tongue barely obeyed him, turning in his mouth like a log.

– Power imposes a law, – enchantress shrugged. – Once in a decade dark demands its payment. Just knowing herbs is not enough, – shadows crawled from the corners, flowing to the corners of the array. – That much a herbalist can do as well.

The witch gently caressed the shackled by fear young man’s cheek:

– I’m even sorry that things turned this way. I liked thee. So young and so passionate… She lowered her hand:

– Only giving thine life to nothing.

Confusion splashed from amber’s depth.

The witch bitterly smiled:

– I have told thee. Thy sister is already doomed, and no power can save her. The dead left his brand on her and will pull her to himself, sooner or later… I wanted to do with a little blood and take this winter solstice a doomed soul.

The young man lowered his eyes, starting to understand.

– You want to say… All my actions were senseless?

– Yes, - she nodded. – It was a loss from the very beginning.

The witch threw a glance to the window. Blizzard approached its height.

Time to the midnight of the longest night of the year trickled away as a last dribble of sand.

– Forgive me, – enchantress with a well-honed gesture raised her dagger. – I’m sorry I can’t take deals back.

And confidently directed silver right into his heart.

[travel-in-pictures]

Samcheok-Si, Gangwon-do, South Korea

I shared the color version of this shot a few weeks back an I think I might have grown to like the BW version more. While the color on the other shot is technically nice, I was never happy with the super warm tones of the rocks that resulted from the hard light and polarizer I used. The BW version also feels a bit more mysterious to me somehow.

by Nathaniel Merz from South Korea 

Source | Google Maps

[peace-love-piper]

[ cottagecore ] pix

It was clear they both needed to get away, for a little while.

The Census business, and subsequently losing her job at Flitterby, had been a tough blow to Piper’s nerves. The patrols in Knockturn Alley had been kicked up tenfold since, with the residents of Borgin and Burkes facing constant, harsh scrutiny in particular. Even apparating straight to the stoop, you could feel eyes always on you, coming or going, no matter what time of day it was. It made Piper jumpy, like she was just waiting for the real storm to hit.

Finding the Putney safehouse had been a step forward, albeit a tense one, seeing as Xiomara Winters seemed to run the ship there. But even with Xiomara’s enduringly low opinion of her, Piper had felt a sense of community there that seemed like a positive thing.

Until that day, as it was warily and rarely referred to amongst them, between Loxley and Xiomara and Nathaniel Pinnock. Loxley didn’t like to talk about it, but Piper knew how hurt he was over it; she could feel it, searing through her bloodstream even though Loxley tried his best to brush it off, always insisting the rest of them go on without him.

All signs pointed to escaping somewhere for a little while; some fresh air, some quiet. No stress.

There were still a few weeks left before the end of the Hogwarts term, when Piper would need to return to the city to see to her work for the Band Cthulhu, who would then be out of school and ready to hit the ground running. But for now, the former Professor Sprout had offered up the spare cottage on her property to her best (and only) employee to use for the next few weeks—as long as they were willing to clean it up to livable standards, that is; apparently it hadn’t seen tenants in quite some time. 

Dylan, with her Boots Network experience, had rigged them a quasi-Floo portal from a cupboard in Borgin and Burkes that was untraceable by the Ministry—a direct line between the Knockturn Alley property, and Sprout’s country cottage. Having kissed all their flatmates goodbye for the week (Mae and Oz were set to come visit the following weekend, assuming all went well), Piper squeezed Loxley’s hand at the cupboard door and said meekly, “Ready?”

They were spit out into a room that was…dark. Piper coughed, and shot a few light orbs up into the air. When she walked forward, her shoes left prints in the dust that caked the groaning wooden floorboards. She looked around and…well, they certainly had their work cut out for them. Still, bright and optimistic as ever, Piper wheeled around and smiled at Loxley. “I think we should wash the windows first—get some natural light in here, don’t you think?”

@loxley-blair-lockhart

[howemancing]

WIP Wednesday

I’m going to pretend @dreadfutures tagged me because she said it was open. I started a Flufy Modern AU one shot version of my main OC Elspeth Cousland and Nathaniel Howe which has been a ton of fun to play in. Problem is, I need to work on the pacing, because my main pair just spend the entire time teasing each other.  One day I’ll come back and turn this into a fully fledged fic.   I’ve never posted stories directly to tumblr before so this is about to be an adventure in HTML -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soldering pedals was one of Elsa’s great joys in life. It was simple, straightforward, necessary, and immediately rewarding. Working on music could be richly satisfying in its own right, of course, but sometimes she just wanted a project with a clear goal and obvious outcome. And as a bonus, she could listen to whatever tracks she or her collaborators had made, with half a mind to future tweaks even as she worked. 

Shadow suddenly perked up at her feet, a sure sign that Delilah was home, before turning into a barking dancing ball of energy as she raced towards the doorway.  Her mutt was just barely well trained enough not to bump her owner while she was working, but it made her nervous all the same.

“Hey, ‘Lilah, because I know you love me, would you be willing to take the monster out while you’re still bundled up?” she called out in amusement. “I’m just in shorts and a sweater over here.” She didn’t hear a response, but her faithful mutt’s barking began to get more muted, even through her headphones.

She let herself get caught up in her work once more, finishing the last few wires that needed attaching. Elsa Cousland stood, stretching energy into stiff limbs, wandering over to their kitchen to check on the stewing cordero al vino. Soon enough, she heard the barking of Shadow in the hallway, apparently particularly excitable tonight as she returned. Her faithful mutt didn’t usually stay hyper this long when Delilah came home.

Keys jingled in the doorway, letting in the hyperactive pup, but Elsa’s attention was caught up blowing on the broth, eager to sample if it was coming along alright. “Geez, Lilah, do you have bacon in your pocket or something?���

“Heard a number of odd pick up lines before, but that one’s rather new,” a different, comforting voice graveled at her. Elsa started in surprise. It can’t be, she thought, even as she whirled. Nathaniel Howe was leaning in the doorway. Of course there was a faint smirk on his face, helmet in hand, and he would choose to look quite so dashing in his snow dusted leather coat. “But yes, I am happy to see you.”

“NATE!” she breathlessly enthused, dropping the spoon and launching herself at the man.

He grinned, catching her into a tight hug, wonderful chuckles rumbling through his chest. Despite the cold he brought in, warmth of a different kind seared through her.

“Hey, Elsa,” he breathed, his cologne such a wonderful, familiar scent. “Miss me?”

“You can’t possibly need to ask, you dork,” she murmured back, voice muffled by his chest. She pulled back to beam up at him, trying to ignore how easily he made her heart flip. Piercing grey eyes crinkled at her, peering past that wonderful aquiline nose. A faint blush from winter’s cold colored his cheeks, all while a smile danced across his lips. His sharp chin sporting that same soul patch she remembered so well. 

Nathaniel Howe, back after over a year of international travel. Smiling at her, daring to act even a fraction as happy to see her as she was him. 

She shoved down her pounding heart with firm internal rebuke. She didn’t have a crush on the man anymore, really. Clearly this was just the affection of having missed a man she cared dearly for - as a friend! Her energy would settle soon enough. 

Around their feet, her mutt danced, still bouncing ecstatically, and one particularly affectionate bump nearly knocked Elsa over if Nathaniel hadn’t tightened his hug and righted her. “Shadow, couch,” she ordered with exasperation, and obediently the dog quieted, following her owner’s command. Ponderously she climbed on, mournfully huffing as she curled up on the cushion. Large, sad puppy eyes demanded an explanation for such a betrayal, but her supposedly morose demeanor was rather cut by a wagging tail steadily thumping on the cushions. 

“It’s so wonderful to see you,” Elsa repeated warmly to Nate. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re here! Have you had dinner? Can you stay? I’m making cordero al vino. Ori’s recipe.” 

“It smells amazing, but I don’t want to trouble you,” Nathaniel demurred.

“Doctor Nathaniel Howe! Don’t be ridiculous, do you see the size of that pot? Besides, I will not be denied the chance to play host, or the pleasure of your company,” she growled, playfully thumping him in the chest.

“I am still not used to that title,” he mused, shaking his head, eyes crinkling with amusement. She giggled. “I’ll have to help you get used to it then, Dr. Howe. Indiana Jones wannabe-”

“Great, good. Years in the field and that’s never gotten old.”

“Professional artifact thief.”

“I am not a thief, I do nothing of the sort! I don’t even - I work in Greece, I’m mostly just surveying, and you - ah. You know this, of course you know this, and you’re winding me up.” Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his nose and trying not to smirk. “Why am I such an easy mark for you?”

Her brown eyes sparkled with humorous delight, grin bursting past all efforts to control it. “I mean, that goes both ways and you know it,” she pointed out, and he had to smirk, dipping his head in concession. “Please, settle in, make yourself at home. I should warn you, I’m likely to strongly insist you stay the night.”

“Oh?”

She gestured out the window. “Look at the weather. Did you really not know a major winter storm was coming? I don’t even want Delilah taking public in this, though I imagine she’s thinking the same. Her decision, in the end.”

He hesitated, frame stilling as he shed his coat. “Oh. Just you and me, then?”

Nerves flashed through her. She kept her tone light, offhand. “Is that a problem? Need me to invite other friends?”

“Of course not, but I feel bad for interrupting your, ah, special date night. And I don’t mean to force you to entertain me.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated, worries settled. “Nathaniel. It’s fine. I’d really prefer you didn’t try and take your bike in the storm that’s about to hit, but I’ll not pressure you. If you can put up with a slightly more humble abode than you’re used to, oh mighty Doctor Nathaniel-”

“-I feel as though you vastly overestimate the lifestyle of a non medical doctor.”

“-we’d be more than happy to have you stay. Especially for safety’s sake. If you can’t fit on the couch, you can stay in my bed.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she flushed, quickly continuing as if nothing were wrong. “Instead of me! I can sleep out here, I’ve spent more than one night on this couch.”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes looked distant. “I’m sure both you and Delilah have.”

“If it weighs on the scale, I’d like to pester you with a thousand questions as your rent for the night. Plus, you’ll have to give that shameless flirt - the one with a tail - all the attention she craves.”

Nathaniel grinned, piercing grey eyes sparkling and flipping her stomach in knots. “Such a price. Are you trying to threaten me with a good time? You know I’d pay it a dozen times over.” Her heart pounded within her, but she shoved that down. Nathaniel loved dogs. “But wouldn’t I just be in your way?”

“Nate, don’t joke like that. I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“A year and a half!” She huffed at him, and he quickly held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just thought you’d rather - well. I appreciate the offer. Hm.” He checked out the window, noticing the snow flakes getting thicker. “Maybe I will take you up on it, at least for tonight. Mind if I go down and cover my bike, then?”

“Excellent! Good choice,” she praised, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. “And go for it. Dinner should be ready in another ten minute or so.”

“I look forward to it. And the promised thousand questions,” he added with a faint smirk, heading out.

Elsa watched him go, double checking on the lamb with sudden nerves, buzzing with excitement that wasn’t suspicious. It was normal to be this happy to see an old friend. Those butterflies were just clearly the natural excitement of being surprised. But the growing snow worried her, so she found her phone to make sure her roommate wasn’t enroute, and realized she’d missed several texts from Delilah

 Nathaniel’s back in down, you don’t mind if I invite him to dinner, right?

Hey

Hey

Check your damn phone buttface. He’s on his way.

Also I’m going to stay at Albert’s tonight. It’s much closer and work held me up. If you end up fucking my brother, please don’t tell me.

I lied, please tell me

No don’t.

Look tell me but I don’t want details. I just want to know it happened finally.

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes, and set about responding. 

Fucks sake, I’m sorry! I was working on soldering, alright? It’s fine, your brother’s here safely, happy to see him and entertain. He’s going to stay the night

No I’m not gonna sleep with him. Have to get him drunk first so he’ll even want to and that makes the whole thing too bleh for me

Can’t believe you abandoned me on date night, bitch

I’m kidding. Glad you’re staying with Albert but duh. Even without snow, when was the last time you spent the night here? Tell them I said hi

Soon enough, Nathaniel returned, and was promptly attacked by Shadow. He pretended at irritation, but a smirking grin kept fighting against his scowl even as she twined around his legs and forced him to sit with her on the couch.

Elsa smiled, watching him rubbing Shadow’s belly to her obvious delight, letting him have a moment of calm. Soon enough, though, he looked up, raising an eyebrow. “So quiet all of a sudden, should I be nervous? I believe you threatened me with a thousand questions.”

“Just giving you a moment to settle in!” she defended solicitously.

A faint half smirk traced his lips. “Consider me settled.”

It was like a floodgate releasing. “How’s Greece? Are you still doing GIS? Were you able to start any digs, discover any good sites, and find any exciting sherds? Meet any interesting new people?”

Nathaniel chuckled, and his eyes briefly went unfocused, clearly trying to keep track of each of her questions. “Rapid fire questions get rapid fire answers. Greece is good, surveying is excellent, I think we've identified a very interesting new site, specifically because yes, we found a number of interesting sherds. And no, nobody particularly interesting we haven’t already emailed about.” He shook his head, bemused. “This isn’t even your kind of field, and you’re not my family, forced to pretend. How do you remember this much? Even Delilah glazes over whenever I try to explain it.”

“Please, you underestimate how interesting you make things. Besides, ‘Lilah always remembers, she’s just trying to yank your soul patch. Which I note you still have, and so I’ve now lost a bet with her.”

Self consciously, Nathaniel stroked it. “I think it looks good.” 

“It does,” she soothed with a teasing grin. “I just didn’t think those were easy to maintain. Surprised you can keep up such careful grooming in the field.”

“Some things are worth the effort. Besides, you’re one to talk! You’re here in the middle of a city, and yet your hair’s getting so long,” he retorted. “When’s the last time you got a haircut?”

She mockingly gasped theatrically, tossing her long auburn hair. She hoped it would cascade beautifully but realistically knew she was just getting a floofy mess and shedding behind her. “Hey, I get it trimmed regularly. Besides, don’t you mock my hair, it’s my only good feature, Nate!” she baited him, raising a teasing eyebrow.

“That’s not even slightly true,” he protested.

 “How very dare you, good sir. I can’t believe you just called my hair ugly.”

 “I did nothing of the sort.”

 “I work so hard on it, too!”

 “Your hair is beautiful, and so is-”

Theatrically she pressed a hand to her forehead, sighing dramatically. “And now Nathaniel Howe, Expert P-H-D, just called it ugly. Alas! I’ve disappointed my dear Delilah’s brother. Now she’ll hate me too. Curse my miserable existence! I suppose there’s no help for it, I’ll just have to shave it all off.”

Nathaniel was outright laughing by the time her performative and overwrought display was done. “So dramatic. You are such a ridiculous ham,” he teased her. “You would never do such a thing. You know your hair is beautiful.”

She grinned at him, joy bursting out of her too much to be contained. “Can’t help the drama. I’m too excited, it’s hard to play at calm.” She performatively covered her mouth, then, and by the time she removed her hand, her smile was slightly better controlled, though her twinkling eyes betrayed her still. “Sorry, I promise I’ll try to settle down again. This is what you get for surprising me, Nate. My favorite - one of my favorite people is back in town, I’m a little eager!”

He settled slightly, smiling warmly at her, grey eyes dancing with light that made her heart flip within her. “Favorite? Please. Don’t exaggerate, you heartbreaker,” he teased, and as she geared up to protest, he continued, eyes softer, careful smile dancing on his features. “I missed you too, Elsa. It’s - it’s really good to see you again, energy and all. Especially that, actually. I loved your emails but they always lack a little something compared to seeing you face to face.”

She smiled warmly back, trying not to flush. “I know what you mean,” she agreed. “I’m so glad you could come back early. How long are you back this time?”

“Likely a couple years, actually. We’ve all but got the permit to dig in Greece so now it’s just applying for grants for awhile until we have enough to fund an actual dig. I’m probably going to be staying near the university, working on data analysis and grant and paper writing.”

Elsa tried not to let her tremor of excitement show. Cool as a cucumber. Casual. Not at all a silly, lovesick girl. Because it would be ridiculous. She couldn’t actually be still crushing on a man she should have the good sense to get over by now.

But.

A part of her couldn’t help but note this would be the first time in years they’d be local and single for an appreciable time frame. Most of Nathaniel’s graduate career had been intercut with international travel spanning for months on end, often rarely spending more than a season in the country. Last time he was in town for 6 consecutive months, she’d been dating Sebastian, and before that, he’d had some long distance relationship with someone or other. Alvina? Elvira? Damn, she probably shouldn’t be forgetting that.

Nerves would betray her, so she diverted to practical matters. “Oh? That’s wonderful to hear. Where will you be staying?”

“Mostly working out of the university, so I’ll probably settle in with father while I look for a place around here.”

Elsa made a face even as she poured herself a glass of wine.  “You really want to live with your father? I thought you didn’t get along with him either.” 

Nathaniel sighed, shrugging. “Well, I didn’t exactly have an alternative set up. It’s just to tide me over until I can get an apartment.”

“Stay here!” she insisted. “We can put you up for however long it takes to find a place.”

“That’s a kind offer, but I’m not sure Delilah would appreciate it.”

“‘Lilah would much rather you stay here than with your father, trust me,” Elsa pressed, taking a seat on the couch with him. “Double check with her if you prefer, but I’ll put money down I’m right.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nathaniel demurred. “I’d rather not, ah. Be in either of your way, though. Wouldn’t it be awkward to have the older brother around, looming over you two?”

What a strange way to phrase things. But Nathaniel tended to be more careful in his word choice than others, and Elsa knew she’d probably thrown him off already with her energy and offer. “Not at all. I intend to be shameless regardless of your presence. We can have late night slumber parties!” she insisted cheerfully. 

Nathaniel’s face flushed slightly, then, though it was hard to tell why. Nathaniel was a flirt himself, and quite smooth about it, so the idea that he was flustered from her flirtations was hard to buy. But then, it was possible she was coming across stronger than she realized. Best to back off, then. “Well, it’s your choice, but offer’s on the table.”

“I’ll talk with Delilah.”