#Wolves of the Steppe

[thagomizersshow]

I hope everyone understands, when I say “most endangered habitat on earth”, I mean temperate grasslands.

They’re more endangered than tropical rainforests, coral reefs, the arctic tundra, all of those go-to environments that get more of the spotlight.

Where I live, maybe 25% of the prairie remains in a natural state and that number is dropping. Even these fragments are mostly missing the keystone species that maintain their health, like bison, wolves, and prairie dogs. I know this is the case for other grasslands like the pampas and steppe as well. Vast lands empty of many species that used to call them home.

If you live on temperate grasslands, hold onto them tight, because they’ve been exploited like no other land and most people don’t even know how far the devastation goes.

[elodieunderglass]

Horses are often referred to as prey animals, but what are their natural predators?

Any large grassland predator in the biome, including humans! This is an interesting question, though, because it takes in the axes of time and space. "Wild" horses, the ancestor of domestic horses, are currently extremely rare. The only existing ones in a wild state are Przewalski's horses, also called the Takhi or Mongolian Wild Horses, which live on the Mongolian steppe. Their "natural predators" in that environment would include wolves and snow leopards (which are themselves endangered). However, it isn't an entirely natural setup; they were reintroduced to their native habitat after becoming essentially extinct, through an incredibly complex and fascinating recovery project. In the spacetime pocket in which Earth has wild horses, that's the current state of play: wild horses live in Mongolia and are occasionally eaten by wolves, but are being preserved fiercely for the benefit of humanity.

Meanwhile, we do have things like Dartmoor ponies in England and mustangs in North America and Brumbies in Australia. Dartmoor ponies aren't eaten by anything and are considered feral in the sense that they're domestic animals that live wild, but more or less on purpose, with the moor being treated as a common for keeping ponies on, and the nominal owners can just grab one if they want one at any time. Mustangs are accidental colonists of the American West. They are preyed on by wolves, cougars, and other local large predators, but are not wild. they are feral because they're all descendants of European horses and honestly, if we aren't being sentimental about it, they're invasive.

North America has not had a native population of horses since humans arrived on the continent. The facts are often associated. It is commonly held that humans, upon arriving in America, ate the native horses all up. The typical line goes that "when the first humans populated North America, they were so greedy and invasive that they overhunted most of the local large mammals to extinction". but I personally - and in an unhinged I'm-allowed-to-randomly-hold-ONE-fringe-belief-that-I-Made-up-Myself way - don't like that narrative, and there might be evidence in oral myths indicating that First Nations people at least remembered contact with horses prior to European colonisation. At any rate, there aren't wild horses on that side of the planet any more. The mustang - the most classic "wild horse" in imagination - is not wild, but is currently preyed on by everything that WOULD have eaten the OG native horses of America, minus the large predators that have gone extinct since then (sabre-toothed tigers). Whether mustangs are a nice reintroduction that adds a missing element of Horf to the landscape, or agents of ecological devastation, is kind of up in the air. But they are regularly and routinely preyed upon by the same "natural predators" as the wild cousins would have been, albeit in lower numbers. Take-home message: to visualise how interactions of wild horses with predators and the environment would have looked, mustangs are a very good model.

Going back to the "time" element, human interaction has really decreased a lot of the "natural predators" of horses; they were once preyed on by a larger variety, diversity, and number of animals. In the pocket of spacetime when wild horses were common and had a large range, there also used to be a lot more things like hyenas in Europe and Asia. Here's a diagram showing the "prey animals" and "predators" of Pleistocene Europe. Horses are on the bottom shelf on the far right, at a lower opacity, to show they're "prey animals". You can see that there was a greater diversity of predator types, while today there are usually just Your Local Wolf and Your Local Big Cat.

But this diagram puts "people" as "prey animals" - and humans are traditionally The Natural Predators of horses. Looking at that diagram, you can see that the common, smallish-but-not-too-small herd animal, whose defenses are Having Friends and Being Fast, is a delicious-looking proposition. The spectacular depictions of cave horses in Lascaux are showing our kin, but they're also showing our food.

There is a very important Middle Pleistocene site at a lake in Germany called Schöningen 13II-4, with hominin remains dating back to 300,000 years ago (!!!!!) and it's called the Spear Horizon (for the incredibly well-preserved evidence of spears) but a common nickname is the Horse Butchery Site. One of the most ancient preservations of hominin behaviour, culture, skill, tool-making - their/our priorities, their/our methodology, their/our view of the world - is a narrative of eating horse meat. And the hominins at the Horse Butchery Site did it in a way that seems quite rapacious. Entire family groups of horses, coming to the lake to drink, would be butchered at once: Persistent predators: Zooarchaeological evidence for specialized horse hunting at Schöningen 13II-4 - ScienceDirect It seems like the hominins were killing a lot of horses and not using a lot of the meat, because they wanted fat, and horses don't have much of that.

At any rate, human-shaped people and horse-shaped horses have a very, VERY long history of us eating them. WE are their natural predators. And it makes sense. Humans and Equines are all social animals of relatively small sizes and have interacted with each other for an extremely long time. We have observed them, we know them, we grew up together. For quite a lot of that history, we had a simple relationship; we ate them. Now we much prefer to ride them.

Horses have not entirely forgotten this, but appear to have largely forgiven it.

[queer-reader-07]

hate how they're saying they brought back dire wolves because wow i guess we just love lying but i also generally hate de extinction people. the animals they want to bring back are animals that have no place on earth anymore. i mean that in a literal sense. the mammoth steppe doesn't exist because the earth is literally different now. the ecosystems dire wolves lived in when they were alive does! not! exist! anymore!! i don't care if you think they look cool it is worse for the planet to bring them back and BAD FOR THE ANIMALS if it succeeds. they have nowhere to support them. why bother???

de extinction science like genetic engineering that uses similar genes in related animals should be used to preserve animals that are currently endangered due to human activity. and that's my truth always and forever.

[friendlyforrest]

Telemachus and Antinous getting into some puppy play for their ✨sexy✨ times, and Antinous accidentally calls Telemachus a wolf, to which Telemachus corrects him by telling him he’s actually a steppe wolf. Antinous shrugs and says ‘same difference’ and that sets Telemachus off on a rant about the different subspecies of wolves and how they differ from one another for the rest of the night. So instead of Antinous having fun ✨sexy✨ times with his boyfriend, he’s forced to listen to Telemachus ‘erm actually🤓’ about his special interest for the rest of the night (he loves that about him tho dw)

[shattereality]

what would happen if we slapped your Space marine oc's on their butt? How would they react?

anon, you have awakened something blessed and unhinged in equal measure. here’s how they would react to their beloved daring to slap their genetically-engineered rear in the middle of whatever business they’re up to:

TOGHAN OF THE WHITE SCARS & THE CLERIC

The slap echoes in the air with an almost comedic sharpness, hidden between the chaos of offloading crates and the rumble of an idling assault bike. Toghan freezes. Mid-step. Mid-command. Astartes-level processing power comes to a screeching halt.

Slowly—slowly—he turns his head, one eyebrow rising behind his helm.

“You dare strike a son of Chogoris…?”

His voice is low, but there's a grin hiding in there.

The Cleric looks horrified. “I—I didn’t mean to—! That is, I was—!”

Toghan steps toward her. “You will pay,” he intones seriously, but he’s already pulling off his gauntlet.

She squeaks. She flees.

He chases her through the camp at quarter of his speed, only to gently flick her forehead when he catches her easily.

“Warriors of the steppes do not let such insults go unanswered,” he says, voice rich with amusement.

Later, she catches him looking at her butt with exaggerated judgment. “Tactically poor. Vulnerable to counter-slap.”

—

EIRIK FROSTCLAW OF THE SPACE WOLVES & THE BLANK

Smack.

Eirik stops. His head tilts like a curious wolf who just heard a strange birdcall.

Then he grins, sharp-toothed, predatory.

“Well well, what’s this? Are you doing recon on my backside, little flame?”

She shrugs, suppressing her laughter. “Just observing local terrain.”

“Oh-hoh! Dangerous ground, that,” he laughs, sauntering up, his armor growling with each step. “You best be ready to defend yer claim.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I'm always ready.”

He practically howls with laughter, grabs her and throws her over his shoulder and mutters, “Throne, I’m gonna marry you twice.”

—

CAPTAIN APHAREOS OF THE DEATHWATCH & THE SPECIALIST

She does it mid-patrol. Smack.

The Specialist grins and keeps walking.

Aphareos freezes.

His brain? Crashed.

His soul? Rebooting.

His dignity? In critical condition.

“…Was that necessary?” he asks eventually, voice clipped, mortified.

“You’ve got one good rear, Captain. Someone has to acknowledge it.” she grins

He frowns so hard behind his helmet. “Emperor is disappointed in us both.”

But later, when she’s walking ahead of him, he very gently, very lightly, taps her hip with a single armored finger.

“Balance must be restored,” he says.

She laughs for an hour.

—

LORD KALLEXUS VORDATH OF THE RAVEN GUARD & HIS SERF

Kallexus Vordath freezes mid-stride, the sound of the slap echoing like a gunshot in the dim corridor of the battle barge.

His head turns slowly, dark eyes burning with incredulity and something darker—possessiveness. A pause. And then:

“You dare.”

The words drop like thunder, low and dangerous.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He never needs to. Instead, he stalks toward her, towering and armored, his lips curled into a slow, feral grin.

“How bold of you, little serf,” he murmurs, tilting her chin up with a clawed gauntlet. “How foolishly reckless.”

Then his voice dips—taunting, growling.

He pins her to the wall as punishment/reward depends entirely on the mood.

[lucky-stick]

🏞️🐾🦴wolf study 🪵🌲🥩

hello creechers im a wolf otherlink (or idk yet rlly) so i've compiled like everything about wolves and i might add to it sometimes but heres the contents:

basic (size, diet, status ect)

species and subspecies

pack anatomy

communication

-vocal, body, facial, scent,

-submissive behaviour

-playing

fandom facts

basic information 🥩

scientific name: canis lupus

lifespan: 13 years (wild)

diet: carnivorous -

size: 80-85cm 30-80kg

conservation status: least concern

species and subspecies 🍖

its a big debate on how many species of wolf there are in the wolf but the 2 main ones are the grey and red wolf then all the subspecies evolved in different way based on their habitat but they all descended from grey and red wolves

subspecies: (38) WIP 🚧

arctic: usually all white with black nose and ears

Eurasian: a brown-red colour

eastern: a darker coloured wolf

northwestern: a grey wolf with more black

northern rocky mountains: more pale fur

Indian: brown-grey

Mexican: browny-black

great plains: light grey

British Columbia: all black

Vancouver sea: light grey on top black on the side

Italian: dark brown

Arabian: dark brown and black

canis lupus dingo: light brown

Iberian: darker not a lot of white

interior alaskan: mostly black with some white

alexander archipelago: all black

tundra: mostly white with a bit of black on top

texas: coyote colours

alaskan tundra: all white

Manitoba: dark grey

labrador: dark grey to mostly white

baffin island: mostly white

Greenland: all white

Mackenzie: white-yellowish

mongolian: light brown light grey

steppe: coyote colours

new guinea singing dog: red-brown

Egyptian: jackal colours (blueish)

tibetan: light brown to whiter

Austro-Hungarian: very dark grey

extinct subspecies

Hokkaido: all grey

Japanese: they are patterned

mogollon mountain:

Florida black: all black

kenai peninsula: dark grey

Newfoundland:

cascade mountain:

gregorys:

sicilian:

canis lupus youngi:

bernards:

pack anatomy 🌲

packs can consist of 6-20 members though the average is thought to be around 10

there is usually 2 main wolves, sometimes known as alphas but that terms outdated, these are usually the main parents and give birth to most of the pack

a litter usually consists of 4-6 pups and they are all born blind and vulnerable and they usually stay in the den and with their mother for about 2 years

older siblings have been known to look after younger siblings if needed

the packs social bond is very strong and have fierce devotion to their pack. they have been known to mourn loss, which is what a lone howl usually is, they have also been seen to sacrifice themselves for their pack

(WIP) 🚧

communication 🦴

vocalisation:

every pack as its own unique howl to distinguish different packs and if they are on someone else's territory

a defensive howl is to keep the pack together and keep predators out of their territory

a social howl is to locate one another

barking, though rare, is used as a warning for example a mother wolf may bark of she senses danger around her pups

whimpering and whining can indicate a "i give up/in"

growling is also used as a warning but for more dominance like protecting their territory

body language and posture:

a wolf interacting with it pack can say lots about the status of the wolf and the pack

less dominant wolves usually crouch to make themselves look more smaller

they also lick the muzzles of more dominant wolves

slinking is another "i give in" and is a more submissive behaviour and is show in fights and disagreements with the pack

dominant wolves usually have a more confident upright posture to show said dominance

they also rest their head on submissive wolves neck or back

facial expressions:

when angry their ears stick upright and they bear their teeth for example when two wolves have a disagreement they will show this and growl

when suspicious they squint their eyes and put their ears back

when in fear they flatten their ears

when they want to play they display the play bow and dance around

as a warning they will curl the end of their lips displaying a bit of teeth

when relaxed their eyes are just on their sides

tail position:

tail tucking is a sign of being in fear and submission

a more dominant tail position is sticking it out and slightly upward

a neutral tail position is wagging

scent marking

they mark their territory with pheromones

these pheromones come out from glands on the toes, tail, eyes, skin and genitalia

they mark territory with urine and scat (i will not be doing this)

they have also been known to mark food

submission:

there are 2 types of submission: active and passive

active submission: is where a wolf shows signs of inferiority like tail tucking, muzzle licking and crouching (pups do this with adults)

passive submission: passive submissions is when a wolf lays on its back or side displaying the stomach or chest which is a vulnerable part of the body because it contains vital organs it is show to more dominant wolves when they get into a disagreement the less dominant one usually gives up and shows passive submission to show the others authority

playing:

they are known to get zoomies like how domestic dogs do

some games they play include: chase, tug of war or jaw sparring

jaw sparring is when two wolves will rear up on their hind legs and use their front paws and jaws

a range of vocals come out when playing this this fortifies bonds and status and shows physical skills

a more casual version of this is then laying down

facts + misconceptions 🌕

they have 42 teeth

they have 4 toes with claws and run on their toes not their pads

despite running on their toes they can run at 16-38 miles per hour

they can swim up to 8 miles

they have 200 million scent cells

they can eat 20 pounds of meat in one meal

they don't howl at the moon that was a myth people thought because of werewolves their howls are actually just more clear at night because there is usually less wind and other sound

alpha, beta, omega ect roles don't actually exist there is just more dominant wolves and less dominant wolves the alpha is usually just the parent but there is a social hierarchy in packs

wolves don't hibernate at all so they can be seen all year around

the biggest pack ever consisted of 400 wolves which was found in the outskirts of the woods in russia (i made a post abt then when i got 400 followers)

wolves have their own unique personality

northern rocky mountain wolves are one of the biggest subspecies

this is my pack so far :3 ✨ idk why im adding this i rlly like wolps at the minute and im going to get more ^^

[excessively-english-jd]

On Woolly Mammoth De-Extinction

So. My thoughts on mammoth de-extinction.

Let's start at the beginning. What is de-extinction? It's basically what it says on the tin: bringing a species back from extinction. De-extinction has been a popular topic for decades, particularly since the release of 1993's blockbuster Jurassic Park which famously featured the concept. Since then, a lot of research has gone into the science around the theory.

There are a few proposed methods to facilitate de-extinction: cloning, genome editing, and selective breeding. Of these cloning is the most widely talked about, and also the only method which would result in a 'pure' de-extinction instead of a hybrid species, which can be important to distinguish depending on the goals for any given de-extinction project. However, each most certainly has limitations. Cloning often results in a lot of health problems [1] - even Dolly the Sheep, arguably the most successfully cloned animal, died prematurely due to health issues tied to her clone status. While cloning is an older technology and has a bit more history behind it, it still isn't particularly successful. Genome editing is a relatively newer technology, with a lot of trial still needing to be done. Currently, although there have been leaps in synthetic biology, and an array of genome editing and genome recreation has been done, this has mostly been in the realm of bacteria and viruses, which have far simpler genomes than more complex animals such as mammals [2]. Finally, selective breeding may have some successes, but requires a lot of chance and a lot of time. So overall, de-extinction is a science in its infancy, and currently has very few real, tangible successes.

So why do we want de-extinction? There are a lot of reasons.

In a world where we are increasingly aware of our impact on the planet, there is a desire to 'fix' our mistakes. Many species, like the dodo or the Tasmanian tiger, have gone extinct directly due to human threat or due to unnatural pressures introduced by humans. There is a societal guilt felt here, which some people may want to rectify. This is a theoretically noble intention, but ultimately tends to place emotive reasoning over logic and practicality.

Reviving extinct species could also potentially help to revive extinct ecosystems and environments. This is one of the biggest arguments being used by Colossal for resurrecting the mammoth [3] - an aim to also resurrect the mammoth steppe ecosystem. We'll revisit this. The theory here is to recreate a natural balance that has been lost, similar to proposed reintroduction programmes. A success story in terms of restoring ecological balance would be the reintroduction of wolves to Yellowstone [4] - keystone species such as apex predators or large megafauna can influence a whole environment including animal populations, flora assemblies, and even soil properties. With extant species this absolutely is a good path forward, although it does require careful management - with extinct species this becomes a little more difficult. In a joyous occasion, I get to quote Ellie Sattler: "the question is, how much can you know about an extinct ecosystem? And therefore how can you ever assume you can control it?". How can we be sure our actions will have the outcome we want? It's a delicate balance.

Yet another facet is the possibility of learning more about the species we de-extinct. This is why dinosaurs come into this conversation so often despite the (sad) fact that it's not realistic. When you have an animal that has been extinct for so long that there's no living memory of it, little or no historical record of it, no bodies and no closely related or similar species, natural human curiosity runs wild. What did it look like? Sound like? What colour was it, how big was it, how fast? What was it like to co-exist with? The older a species is, the further removed it is, the more this curiosity is raised. Sure, the Yangtze River Dolphin is extinct, but we remember that being around. Sure, a passenger pigeon is extinct, but we have paintings and accounts, we have modern pigeons. Now a dinosaur? Sure birds exist, but they're so far removed from Tyrannosaurus and Triceratops that they just don't compare. There's huge differences and we want to learn about them. But here there will always be the question of: how much is real, and how much is created? How can we know how much a recreation is the same as the original? The question of nature and nurture has to come in here - whether we're enacting some form of Forbidden Experiment [5] on extinct species and how that will affect what we might or might not learn.

To once more return to Jurassic Park (sorry), I feel there's one more possibility to acknowledge: profit. In our current capitalist society, de-extinction is expensive. It takes time, resources, manpower, and equipment. This is not cheap and of course, anyone investing in it is going to want to see returns. Of course, a lot of scientists will be in it for passion, for knowledge, for advancements. And perhaps generating profits will be for good cause - like a zoo charges entry to fund its conservation projects, a de-extinction project could charge fees to fund further research and additional applications. De-extinction could be like the panda - a public facing, popular and charming money machine to fund smaller, less appealing projects, creating a funnel into other projects [6]. However, there is also the possibility that knowledge gets hoarded with a price on its head, and it could be that interest shifts more to increased revenue rather than ecological betterment. I won't harp on this point, but I think it's worth acknowledging.

This brings us back around to mammoths and the specific efforts to bring them back from extinction. How do these considerations apply to this project?

Cloning was once, I believe, proposed for mammoth de-extinction. The problem to my memory is a lack of intact mammoth cells. Without a well preserved cell with genetic material to transfer into an egg cell, a clone cannot be created. However, a complete mammoth genome has been sequenced - in fact, several have been, and there's quite a few papers published [7]. That means we know the full genetic code of the mammoth. Colossal, the main company working on mammoth de-extinction, is going in this direction: using genome editing to, one day, create a hybrid elephant with mammoth traits encoded into its DNA [3]. Immediately, I want to point this out - this will be a hybrid animal, with mammoth-like traits. There is a question here as to whether this is actually de-extinction, or actually a kind of artificial evolution. The animal might look superficially like a mammoth, but is it a mammoth? Can we learn anything about mammoths by observing this animal? Will this give us a glimpse into the past? I'm going to keep referring to this hypothetical animal as a mammoth just for clarity's sake here, but this point should stand.

This leads into another concern - will this animal behave like a mammoth? Obviously, there are no extant mammoths, so how will a baby mammoth learn to be... a mammoth? Elephants are complex social animals, who pass on knowledge. In Africa, it is known that elephant matriarchs can be instrumental in teaching younger generations about locations and foods that can be important during exceptional droughts [8]. We don't know how much nature and nurture affect us, let alone other species - did mammoth matriarchs teach their youngsters where the grazing was best in the thick of winter? Did a young mammoth learn what food could or could not be eaten by watching their herd? Will a mammoth, 4000 years separated from the last generation of mammoths, act the same way? Eat the same food? Follow the same migration patterns? Will the surrogate elephant family be able to cater to the social needs of a young mammoth, or is there some unique mammoth behaviour or instinct that we aren't aware of, which an elephant herd will not provide?

Here we come to ethical questions about quality of life. Keeping elephants in isolation is agreed to be cruel and damaging - a social animal needs access to its social group. Perhaps a solution to this mammoth problem is simply to create a lot of mammoths, which seems to be the intent - but that still leaves a lot of infant mammoths with no adult mammoths. There is that possibility that a surrogate elephant family cannot provide this necessary socialisation. Can they even provide the right nutritional demands? Will elephant milk properly sustain a baby mammoth? Additionally, the current proposal is to have the surrogate mother be an African elephant, as they are larger and more able to potentially carry a mammoth baby. But African elephants live in savannahs on an equatorial continent. That will not be a suitable habitat for young mammoths, but is the Arctic circle a particularly suitable place to house African elephants? Are these species able to cohabit for the decade or so it takes for a young elephant or theoretical mammoth to truly mature? The world is very different than it was 4000 years ago when the last mammoths roamed; is the climate still suitable for mammoths and the flora they ate? Have the air quality and UV radiation levels changed too much? Are there new diseases that a mammoth may not be capable of fighting off? Basically, is the modern world truly capable of supporting a theoretical population of mammoths in a way that allows them to be healthy, happy, and without suffering? I don't know the answers to these, I haven't researched enough into specifics, but these are just some examples of the questions I would have.

The theory of this project is to reintroduce the mammoths to Siberia, where they will facilitate a return of the mammoth steppe habitat. As a large megafauna animal, it's thought that they are a keystone species in allowing this habitat to exist, by clearing plains, trampling certain vegetation, and packing snow and ice. The aim is for the mammoths to clear areas of Siberian forest and allow the steppe to reform. There's two problems I have here: one species does not an ecosystem make. What about other coexisting species that might have contributed? Woolly rhinos? Deer, bison? What about predator species like the cave lion or sabre cats? Hell, Neanderthal humans were part of this ecosystem, do we know that they didn't contribute to maintaining the steppe? In Australia some habitats are suffering because Aboriginal land management is no longer being used - the same thing has happened in parts of North America where Native peoples have been driven off their land and not been allowed to continue maintaining it [9]. Humans are part of their ecosystems. Is a mammoth really going to be enough to revive this habitat? Second: what about the species who already live there? It's not like Siberian forests are empty. Have you ever heard of the Siberian tiger? They're an endangered species, and one of their major threats is a loss of habitat due to deforestation, particularly in the Russian Far East. Other animals live in this ecosystem, like bears, and deer, and moose. Are we going to enact extinction on these animals, just to bring back the mammoth? This ecosystem has evolved. In the absence of mammoths and the steppe habitat, forests have taken over, populated with new animals that evolved to fit into the niches left open. This is, at the end of the day, a natural process on Earth. Something ends, and something else takes over.

Now why do we want the mammoth steppe back? Because, the theory is, it could help tackle the climate crisis. Mammoth-packed ice and snow would thaw slower in summer months. Large open plains covered in snow increase the albedo of the Earth, reflecting more light and heat away. It is thought that mammoth steppes were a carbon sink, which would hold carbon and reduce the amount of it going back into the atmosphere contributing to the greenhouse effect. This is a great theory, but as mentioned, there are problems with it. The mammoth steppe was, at the height of the mammoth, a massive ecosystem that stretched across most of Eurasia and into North America. Where the hell are we going to put all of that now? Those areas are inhabited, either by humans or by other species. Sure a small reserve could be made, but will that small reserve actually have a noticeable impact on the climate? What's the game plan for if it turns out to do nothing, or very little?

Also, surely, there are easier, more efficient, more proven, and less expensive ways of tackling climate change. Why not invest this money into overhauling infrastructure to be more eco-friendly? Solar power, wind power, green land management, reforestation, low-carbon alternatives? Putting caps on industrial power use and source, abolishing fossil fuels, enforcing use of sustainable materials? There are bigger and better impacts to be made elsewhere, and maybe those should be focused on first. We are in the middle of a climate crisis. Our world is warming faster than ever, and not enough is being done to reverse or prevent this. But we also live on a warming Earth as the planet recovers from an ice age - in its time, it will continue to get warmer and warmer. This is a natural cycle which is seen throughout (geological) history. Does it not seem cruel to bring these animals into a world not suited for them, when it is currently only set to get worse? Is it ethical to bring them back from the purpose of 'fixing' this? Especially when it will take so much time to see the theoretical benefits - this isn't going to be achieved overnight - and could lead to suffering in the meantime.

So, ultimately, I have several reservations about mammoth de-extinction. I've probably missed things out here, or not explained with full clarity. I have based this mostly on my own pre-existing knowledge and basic surface research, and this isn't my specialty, so perhaps some of this isn't as relevant as I think. I've also just rambled for several thousand words, so forgive me for errors. But, to summarise:

Will a created mammoth act the same as a true mammoth? Can we guarantee that a mammoth in the modern day will act how we hope it will?

Can a mammoth be cared for adequately? Can its physical, spatial, environmental, nutritional and socio-emotional needs be met?

Is it cruel to create a mammoth when it will be unique and alone, isolated from it's own kind? Will infant mammoths suffer for the lack of adult mammoth care?

Are current climatic and environmental conditions correct to sustain mammoths? Could damage be done to them if it is not?

Is there space for a mammoth population? Are there large enough areas with the correct conditions?

Are we sacrificing extant species and environments for the sake of reviving the mammoth? Is that justifiable in a climate of rapid biodiversity loss?

Could these resources be better applied? Should we advance this project while the climate crisis is still so severe?

Is it ethical to create an animal for the purpose of theoretical climate control? What are the consequences if we do not see the benefits we hope for?

Could this technology be misused, or restricted for the sake of greed, power or influence? How are we guaranteeing that the benefits will be shared and used well?

Is there anything we can learn from resurrecting the mammoth? Will a modern mammoth really tell us anything about mammoth behaviour, biology, or ecology?

Is this even going to really be a mammoth? Is this truly de-extinction?

Now I do want to just mention that there are some potential benefits. Primarily, the technology being developed for this project is wonderful, and could be used for many applications. Colossal does, it seems, have plans to implement their technology for the conservation of elephants. I do think that de-extinction could have its place - but I personally think we should first focus on near-extinct or recently extinct species, lost within the past 100 or so years, to minimise some of the risks above and to prevent further loss of biodiversity on our planet. I think that the choice of mammoths is purely one of iconism and publicity, but technically that can be useful in conservation, so long as resulting resources are then properly redistributed.

To finish off, here are some articles and papers which cover the topic:

"Meet the ‘woolly mouse’: why scientists doubt it’s a big step towards recreating mammoths", Nature: https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-025-00684-1

"A mammoth undertaking: harnessing insight from functional ecology to shape de-extinction priority setting", D. J. McCauley et al: https://besjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/1365-2435.12728

And the sources I cited:

1 - Cloning Fact Sheet, National Human Genome Research Institute, https://www.genome.gov/about-genomics/fact-sheets/Cloning-Fact-Sheet

2 - Synthetic Biology, National Human Genome Research Institute, https://www.genome.gov/about-genomics/policy-issues/Synthetic-Biology

3 - Mammoth project page, Colossal Laboratories and Biosciences, https://colossal.com/mammoth/

4 - "Trophic cascades in Yellowstone: The first 15 years after wolf reintroduction", W. J. Ripple & R. L. Beschta, https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0006320711004046

5 - Language Deprivation Experiments, Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_deprivation_experiments

6 - Flagship Species, Wikipedia, https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flagship_species

7 - "Complete genomes reveal signatures of demographic and genetic declines in the woolly mammoth", E. Palkopoulou et al, https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/25913407/

8 - "Elephant Memories May Hold Key To Survival", ScienceDaily, www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/08/080811200337.htm

9 - "Traditional ecological knowledge and restoration practice", R. Senos et al, https://research.fs.usda.gov/treesearch/50696

[babylon-crashing]

This is the second scene of my wuxia retelling of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus.

In the source material Titus returns home after years of war, bring with him all the bodies of his fallen soldiers (he refers to them as his, "sons;" some folks have taken this literally, which would mean Titus had somehow fathered hundreds and hundreds of boys in his free time, since the crypt is nearly full after decades at war). With him in chains is the defeated Goth Queen, Tamora, along with her three sons (Demetrius, Chiron and Alarbus), as well as Tamora's lover, Aaron the Moor (and yes, Aaron is a highly problematic character ... which is a polite way of saying racist as fuck). In order to appease the dead, Titus has Alarbus butchered as a sacrifice. We are also introduced to Lavinia, Titus' daughter.

Because this version is wuxia and has most of the genders flipped, instead of slicing and dicing Hēi Dú, General Tiān Mǔ orders her oldest daughter, Tiě Yīng, to shatter Hēi Dú's meridians, leaving her as a living corpse entombed with the glorious dead.

ACT I · SCENE II.

[剑冢森森，魂灯荧荧] [A forest of grave-swords; ghost-lanterns flicker blue.]

[祖剑堂 · 地宫] [Ancestral Sword Hall · Underground Crypt.]

[战鼓渐歇，丧钟低鸣。地宫穹顶垂百剑，剑柄为碑。二十石台空置，待天母众女。青烟如蛇，盘绕尸骨未寒之刃。]

[War drums fade into funeral gongs. A cavern lit by yin-blue lanterns, its walls studded with hundreds of upright swords, each a warrior’s grave-marker. Twenty empty stone plinths await Tiān Mǔ’s fallen soldiers. Incense coils like serpents around blade-cooling flesh.]

[铁链声响。铁链与铁翎押阵，铁山刀卫捧灵位与佩剑次入，后随铁英、铁血。天母戎装未卸，甲上犹带草原尘沙。大狼与其女[灰毒、蓝毒、黑毒]棘链缚身。末入巴悉拉，景教十字暗芒浮动。] [Chains clank. Tiě Lián and Tiě Líng lead the procession, followed by Iron Mountain Blades bearing spirit tablets and sheathed swords. Tiě Yīng and Tiě Xuè enter next, then Tiān Mǔ, her armor still crusted with steppe dirt. Behind them, Dà Láng and her daughters (Huī Dú, Lán Dú and Hēi Dú) shuffle in manacles. Last comes Bǎ Xī Lā, his Nestorian cross glinting like a hidden knife.]

[众人迫大狼一族跪于五眼蟾蜍铜魂炉前。] [The prisoners are forced to kneel before a bronze soul-brazier shaped like a five-eyed toad.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ.

[举碎玉令，诵咒如刃。] [Raising her broken Jade Seal, chanting like a whetstone on steel.]

"玄女兵主——" "Xuánnǚ, Dark Mother of War—"

"开黄泉之扉。" "Open the Yellow Springs’ gate."

[抚剑墙，声裂金石。] [Her palm scrapes along blade-embedded walls, voice splitting metal and stone.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [cont.]

"吾女今与鬼同行。" "My daughters walk with ghosts now."

"以刃镇幽冥。" "Let their swords guard the underworld’s edge."

[铁山刀卫置灵位于石台，朱砂名讳如血。无棺椁，以剑代尸。] [The Iron Mountain Blades place spirit tablets upon the plinths, each name inscribed in cinnabar. No coffins; the dead are honored as ancestral swords, not corpses.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [续] [抚空台，甲缝渗沙。] [Her armored fingers brush an empty plinth, steppe-dust sifting from the joints.]

"祖剑冢啊…" "O sacred crypt ..."

"汝怀吾欢，亦纳吾悲。" "You who cradle my joy and grief alike."

"为何贪噬无厌？" "Why must you feast so ravenously?"

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG.

[执刃穿魂幡，幡动如濒死之息。] [A dagger-pierced soul-banner trembles in her grip like a death rattle.]

"母亲，赐一囚破丹田。" "Mother, grant us a prisoner to shatter."

"以炁饲亡魂。" "Let her qi feed the dead."

"化其息为香。" "Let her breath become their incense."

天母 / TIĀN MǓ.

[戟指灰毒，甲上反光如狼瞳。] [Her gauntlet points to Huī Dú, armor-scratches glint like wolf-eyes.]

"取可汗长女。" "Then take the Khagan’s eldest."

"草原狼种，正合燃薪。" "a steppe-wolf’s whelp, fit kindling."

大狼 / DÀ LÁNG.

[锁链暴起，棘刺入肉。] [Chains rattle as manacles bite deeper into flesh.]

"这也配称‘道’？" "You call this Taoism?!"

"分明是屠场！" "This is butchery!"

[唾血] [Spits blood.]

"玉皇必降天罚——" "The Jade Empress will curse your—"

天母 / TIĀN MǓ

[抬手如闸，声寒于铁。] [A raised hand silences like decapitation.]

"天道不悯豺狼。" "The Tao has no mercy for wolves."

"汝女之息，当饲吾殇。" "Your daughter’s breath will feed my dead."

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG.

[并指为鹤喙，点向灰毒后腰。] [Fingers coiled like a crane’s beak, pressing to Huī Dú’s spine.]

"道予炁，道夺炁。" "The Tao gives qi. The Tao takes it."

[三击如钟。] [Three strikes toll like a funeral bell.]

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG [cont.]

"命门。" [Mìngmén.]

[闷响，灰毒气息骤滞。] [A dull thud—Huī Dú’s breath seizes.]

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG [cont.]

"脊中。" [Jǐzhōng.]

[玉裂之声，肌骨僵锁。] [A crack like splitting jade, her body locks rigid.]

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG [cont.]

"大椎。" [Dàzhùi.] [折骨脆响，银炁自七窍喷涌，旋入魂炉。] [A final snap, silver qi erupts from her pores, swirling into the brazier.]

[炁凝‘仇’字，瞬散。铁山刀卫置灰毒于碑前，形存神灭，永跪为鬼奴。] [The qi forms the character 仇 《vengeance》 before dissolving. Huī Dú’s hollowed body is propped before the plinths; a living ghost forced to kneel eternally.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU.

[三叩入殿，额抵冷石。] [Entering with three kowtows, forehead pressed to stone.]

"母亲…" "Mother…"

[捧纸马，声颤。] [Clutching paper effigies, voice trembling.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

"儿带冥驹，助姊远行。" "I bring paper horses for their journey."

[天佑一边吟诵诗歌，一边焚烧人像。]

[Tiān Yòu begins burning the effigies while reciting poetry.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

"双蛇缠…" [Two snakes entwined ...]

[纸灰突燃碧火。]

[The ashes flare emerald.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

"无首尾 ..." [Neither head nor tail ...]

[焚纸，灰烬化鹤形——白思之徽。] [The ashes twist into a crane—Bái Sī’s crest.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

"唯饥无宴。" [Only hunger without feast.] [魂炉中五眼骤睁。]

[The toad-brazier’s eyes snap open.]

[天佑退后，诗成谶言。] [Tiān Yòu staggers back, the poem now a curse spoken out loud.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ.

[捧子面，甲锈沾颊。] [Cupping his face, her gauntlet leaves dried blood like tear-stains.]

"吾儿…" "My son…"

"男儿总被讥弱。" "The world calls boys weak."

"然你乃吾德所铸之身。" "But you are my virtue made flesh."

[低语切齿。] [A whisper like grinding steel.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [cont.]

"活得比我久。" "Outlive me."

[按剑柄，刃吟如泣。] [Her palm on a sword-hilt, the blade hums a mourner’s tune.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [cont.]

"安息吧，吾刃。" "Rest, my blades."

"未斩之恨，生者必断。" "The living will cut what you could not."

[所有人都退场。]

[Everyone exits.]

[门阖。终余：灰毒游丝之息，与万剑饥鸣。] [The doors seal. Last sounds: Huī Dú’s shallow breath in the dark and the swords’ hungry humming.]

֍

Notes.

Unlike Aaron the Moor, whose presence in the play is never really explained (except for being Tamora's baby daddy) Bǎ Xī Lā (the name he adopted since arriving in China), is in fact European, a Nestorian Christian missionary, with a demonic apatite for destruction (thank you, Guns and Roses). Other terms that need to be explained are:

Tiān Mǔ refers to her soldiers as, Iron Mountain Blades (for no other reason than I thought it sounded interesting). In traditional Chinese medicine, meridians are invisible pathways in the body through which vital energy circulates. This energy is called Qi (气) an energy field ... created by all living things; it surrounds us and penetrates us and binds the galaxy together. If that sounds a bit Star Wars-ish now you know where Lucas stole his idea from, you're welcome. Paper horses (纸马) were burned to transport the souls of the deceased to the afterlife.

The only part that gave me pause was trying to come up with a description of how meridians would be cut or severed, since in the wuxia kung fu movies I've seen someone declares that they're using, "the Quivering Palm" (or something) and a glowing CGI cloud then leaves the body. Personally, I am very fond of the description used in Airplane! (1980):

"It starts with a slight fever and dryness of the throat. When the virus penetrates the red blood cells, the victim becomes dizzy, begins to experience an itchy rash, then the poison goes to work on the central nervous system, severe muscle spasms followed by the inevitable drooling. At this point, the entire digestive system collapses accompanied by uncontrollable flatulence until, finally, the poor bastard is reduced to a quivering wasted piece of jelly."

... but I suppose there are better descriptions out there, somewhere.

[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

Continue reading...

[house-of-geewolves]

Good morning and welcome to the Weekend Wolf Report! I’m your reporter Geewolves. Today’s featured matchup is ‘The Ghost of You’ Gerard and the Steppe Wolf (Canis Lupus Campestris). 

 Fun fact about wolves:

Alpha wolves are actually the parents of a wolf pack! Wolf packs are basically families. 

Recently, there have been concerns about Gerard wolves eating the other MCR animals. While this is important for maintaining the balance of the MCR ecosystem, We assure you that all wolves and other canids on this blog are fed regularly. Apologies for any fear this situation may have caused. 

Just this week alone, the house-of-geewolves News Station has gained 70 new fans! Wow! We can’t thank you enough for all this support. We’ll do our best to deliver you quality Gerard wolf matchups. 

The MCR ecosystem is thriving more than ever with the rise of new MCR animal blogs. In fact, it’s expanded far past the MCR ecosystem! We encourage you to support all the other members of this lovely community.

Thanks for tuning into the Weekend Wolf Report! Have a nice week and see you next weekend! This is Geewolves, signing off.

[outofangband]

Poisonous plants and their lore in Beleriand part one

Note: the information provided about the effects of poisonous plants are the effects for real humans; I headcanon that toxin tolerance varies far more widely among elven peoples so I’ll specify

Medicinal plants part one

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda Masterlist

Societal world building Masterlist

My second post in the series will focus on poisonous properties of plants that appear in canon!

Wolfsbane (Aconitum lycoctonum) is a blue flower also called monkshood that grows in mountainous regions. It contains a neurotoxin called acotin that causes gastrointestinal symptoms, burning, tingling, convulsions and can cause death.

In Beleriand it likely grew primarily in the Ered Wethrin and thus was encountered by the Northern Sindar, the Noldor and the Hadorian people. It’s name in Sindarin translates more to blue tower. Although the effects of the poison are mild to elves, it has posed a risk to their animals.

The Noldor occasionally use a substance derived from several plants including wolfsbane as a numbing agent. Tingling or numbness is a common effect of wolfsbane toxin (in both humans and elves)

It’s gained infamy as a killer of wolves; in later ages, some Sindar elves plant it by graves and monuments to depict the fall of the Isle of Wolves and Sauron’s defeat by Lúthien and Huan

The word in the Hadorian language means horse bane and it is often destroyed on site, especially in their fields and along grazing routes. Gifting these petals to another is considered a grave threat

Also little personal note: . I have ideas relating to Aerin about this (not my poisoning post actually though that is on my mind) Also speaking of poisonous plants and post Nírnaeth Dor-lómin, henbane has appeared in several historical accounts of witch trials so I want to write further about that too.

Ragwort is a common flower, often considered a weed, growing in dry fields and steppes. It’s generally considered to be more dangerous to horses than humans but can cause illness if ingested

In Beleriand it likely grew primarily in Dorthonion and in the northeastern plains such as Himlad and parts of Thargelion

Humans (including in real life) can eat honey that’s made from ragwort and the Bëorians did; some report mild psychoactive properties from this honey, leading to its cultivation among some curious artists and scholars

The Avari of Northeastern Beleriand use yellow wildflowers including ragwort in wedding ceremonies

Wood anemone are small white flowers that grow in woodlands.

In Beleriand it likely grew in deciduous forests such as Brethil, the woods of Núath and parts of Doriath

These flowers are not poisonous to elves beyond mild increased oral sensitivity and are occasionally used as garnishes in Doriath, especially in late spring and early summer

In Haladin folklore, clearings and groves where wood anemone grows in abundance are the site of unmarked graves or other dangers

Other notes

Nutmeg is used as a psychoactive agent in Valinor and there are groves of nutmeg plants in the gardens of Lórien

There are plants that have poisonous effects or psychoactive ones only on elves rather than the opposite

In addition to the canon poison plants, I’m also going to do a post about the environmental damage to flora caused by Glaurung and around Angband including the poisonous plants and mushrooms that thrive within Angband often cultivated by Maiar there

[elucubrare]

Doctor Valeris gave a quick, cool press of the hand, and gestured me to a chair. “Tell me what happened,” she said, with no further preamble. I closed my eyes — on the insides of my eyelids danced scenes of glory and conquest, as they had for the past three weeks - and tilted my head back. “I’d hired out as a guard to an archaeologist up in the steppes. We spent a week riding around barrows, with nothing more than a couple of wolves to bother us. Then he reread a text or something, and pointed us further north. Have you been up there, doctor? Probably not. It’s so big. The sky, sure, but everything. No trees for a hundred miles, just you and the horse and a few mounds where no one alive has walked for three hundred years, and the wind. I remember there was one tree, though, where it shouldn’t be. It was the tallest thing there, and it felt like a mountain. An oak, tall and straight despite the wind that had scoured anything taller than a barberry bush off the face of the world. The archaeologist bent and scraped some earth off a rock between its roots. He pulled a crowbar off his horse’s equipment and pried it up. ‘After you,’ he said, and I went down. That’s when the ghost entered me.” The doctor nodded. “Let me read the statement back to you. ‘I had been entombed under the strength of oak for centuries. I had begun to fear that I would never again feel a horse surge into a gallop under me, or the wind in my hair; that I had failed the ritual; that the promises of the gods were naught but lies.’” She paused. A muscle in my jaw clenched and then relaxed, but I stayed quiet. “’At last there came a breath of fresh air: a wind from the outside, and with it, a bright spirit. Ah, I thought, the gods spoke true. I am fortunate indeed. She is my kin, and she will serve me well. She is thrice bound to me.’” The doctor waited for a response. “That’s not what I said,” I told her, firmly. “No,” Valeris responded. “But it’s what I heard."

[247reader]

The Great Shepherd, peaceful deity of the much-oppressed Lhazareen - "lambs in a world of wolves," as the Red Lamb puts it in Barristan's sample chapter.

I included elements of Turkic steppe clothing in his outfit, along with fantasy elements like his ram's horns. I like shading sheep much more than I like figuring out how their legs work.

[walks-the-ages]

If you love educational games, if you love wolves, and you love animal sciences, please check out WolfQuest! They just released their absolutely huge expansion today, completely free for anyone who already owned the game, and only raising the base price of the game by $5 to make a grand total of.......... $20 for the entire, fully expanded, remade and reworked game they've spent years crafting.

Live the life of a wild wolf You are a two-year old gray wolf born in the Northern Range of Yellowstone National Park. You learned the ways of the wolf in your birth pack. Now it's time for you to learn how to live on your own, finding food, meeting other wolves, and searching for a mate. Ultimately, your goal is to find a home and build your own family. Embark on a quest for survival Your quest begins on the slopes of Amethyst Mountain and eventually takes you across the Lamar Valley to Slough Creek. There, you and your mate must  establish a territory and raise a litter of pups: training them, feeding them, defending them against predators, and finally taking them on a cross-country journey to a summer home. Ultimately, your success will depend on your ability to ensure the survival of your pack. Experience Yellowstone National Park Explore WolfQuest's realistic recreation of the Northern Range of Yellowstone National Park — "the Serengeti of North America" — where herds of elk and other ungulates roam the sagebrush steppe grasslands, alpine forests, and magnificent high ridges. But watch out for packs of stranger wolves, who patrol their territories and don't look kindly on intruders. The wilderness brims with other dangers as well — grizzly bears, cougars, and coyotes — who all vie with you for territory and food. Realistic Ecology and Gameplay (Anniversary Edition) Herds of elk roam the land in realistic herds, along with moose, mule deer, beavers, and other prey. Other wolf packs maintain and defend their territory against intruders -- like you. Grizzlies, cougars, coyotes, and other predators challenge you over your kills -- and protect theirs. Wolves communicate with each other using natural actions and vocalizations. Dynamic (family-friendly) courtship interactions allow you to choose a suitable mate. Adorable wolf pups who play with each other and with your wolf and mate. Vast wilderness maps (nearly 50 square kilometers) depict Yellowstone's Northern Range. Innovative Age Perks system models the arc of life (and death) of a wild wolf. In Ironwolf mode (optional), live life on the edge: your first death is your last. Dynamic day/night, weather, and seasons immerse you in the wilderness. Over 80 achievements, plus collectible objects. Our science advisors include some of the top wolf biologists in the world today, who help us keep WolfQuest accurate to real wolf biology and behavior.

Their youtube channel has tons and tons of videos showing the development of the game, what kind of research they do building the game, behind the scenes info, bug fixing, etc!

They also go out of their way to make the game playable on the the most potato computers possible, so you can play this game without having the most expensive gaming PC in the world, and they love receiving feedback from people using low-end PCs to try to make it even better.

Links to buy:

https://eduweb.itch.io/wolfquest

https://store.steampowered.com/app/926990/WolfQuest_Anniversary_Edition/

[visions-of-our-past]

Real prehistoric animals Colossal Biosciences could have brought back instead of giving us fake dire wolves:

Cave bear (Ursus spelaeus)

Woolly rhinoceros (Coelodonta antiquitatus)

Steppe bison (Bison antiquus)

Woolly mammoth (Mammuthus primigenius)

Cave lion (Panthera spelaea)

Sabre-toothed tiger (Homotherium latidens)

[shmowder]

Lignum Vitae

In which the bachelor spends his evening under a tree, having one-sided conversations about life, death, love and lust. Finding his truth in wine, thinking of what a different future with the Haruspex might look like.

A love letter to Artemy. D.D.

Daniil Dankovsky x Artemy Burakh

AO3 Mirror

[ Smut, Romance, Angst, Drama, Philosophy, Drinking, Medical Kink, Religious Imagery, poorly translated latin, Yearning, Denial of Feelings, Self-acceptance, Steppe Culture, Flower language, some words rhyme, porn with feelings ]

“A forget-me-not is a tiny yellow flower…isn't it?”

“I believe Myosotis alpestris are more renowned for their sky blue colour…But I suppose they do come in yellow as well.” Returning the stamped documents to their original named folder, Daniil secured them besides the rest, alphabetically ordered, before closing his bag. “Curious…why do you ask, Eva?”

“That steppe man keeps calling me by flower names.” Holding the end of the blue shawl draped over her upper torso, Eva glared at it as if it was the strands’ fault. “I try to tread softly and stay out of his way, but he still seeks me out whenever he's here to visit you.”

Raising his eyebrow in question, Daniil analysed the situation with ease as he considered the best and most delicate way to approach this.

With someone as soft as Eva, he needs to be more careful with his wording.

“You can't possibly let fear cloud your judgement of people forever.” Fixing his red silk cravat as best as he can without a mirror, Daniil continued. “condemnant quod non intellegunt.” He clipped the brooch back into place as the finishing touch.

“He's just…” with a sigh she cuts her sentence short, “I don't know how he gained Lara’s favour.”

In the background, the faint sound of the early morning birds chirping outside filtered through the tightly-shut heavy curtains covering the windows. Chirping as they happily cleaned their feathers in the stillwaters.

Maybe it was being woken up at such an early hour from her beloved slumber, courtesy to Daniil's loud morning routine, that has gotten Eva's tongue loose and brain groggy.

“Lara's so soft and kind-hearted.” Eva sang her praises with dainty lips painting a smile. “Beautiful like the moon, graceful like a bird and always clean with a lavender scent.” Her finger twirls a loose strand of her blonde hair around it, “what does she ever see in a man with a terrifying gaze? He constantly smells like blood…God keeps the moon from the wolves for a reason.”

God, huh.

The cross weighs heavy on his neck. Or was it still in his pocket? Daniil can't remember. Maybe it fell out somewhere amidst his daily chaos of running errands and sprinting from place to place to an early grave.

Collecting dirt and grime down some random drain, maybe the rats have taken a liking to it and dragged the trinket through the sewers to their home.

He doesn't dare check either.

The loud booming sound of the church's bell ringing cuts their conversation short. An hour has passed, and his pocket clock churns. Time is of essence.

With a soft spoken goodbye to his dear friend, Daniil is out the door. Promising to revisit this topic of infatuation and misguided fear under better circumstances.

A bright sky greets him. Pulling his coat tightly closed as the wind picks up, the refreshing momentary solace of a gentle breeze does nothing to cool down his nerves.

People passing by avoid his gaze. The audacity, he thinks, to break quarantine and not even look him in the eyes. Nonetheless, he has a committee to give orders to, reports to receive, and files to update. He has no time to lecture these fools.

If they think they know better than a doctor to not heed his advice, then so be it. Let them reap what they sow. As if the theatre wasn't bursting at the seams with patients awaiting treatment already.

Never-ending responsibilities, what a thankless rotten job it is to heal.

The sun taunts him, up high in the sky as the day goes by; its chariot being pulled at an alarming rate. Clouds come and go as they please while the earth rotates, the hours never kind enough to slow.

Daniil ignores the soreness of his ankles as he attends his tasks, travelling from one part of town to another, indulging the whims of those in power when the fantasy of strangling them for wasting what precious time he has is all that's on his mind.

Alas, the birds return to their nests, and the kids are called inside for supper. Apollo sets on the horizon, calling his sister to wake from her slumber and start her hunt.

The doctor's job is done here, for today at least…he did what he could. Tomorrow is in the hands of fate.

Yet not a single soul was cured. Minimising the losses has become his routine as of late. For the sand plague was nothing if humbling.

Stopping in his tracks, Daniil's hand pressed against his temple.

A growing headache courtesy of a merciless brain declaring him an offender.

He needs a drink. Drown these thoughts before it's him they drown.

Turning abruptly in the middle of the street, he takes a step forward towards the direction of the only bar in this goddamn town.

These people are going to be the reason his head starts sprouting grey. Building and maintaining a functional brewery with a large bar amidst a plague. Yet, god forbid that a semi-functional hospital gets built on these sulled grounds.

Really telling where the people's priorities lay here.

With his long coat trailing behind, Dankovsky walks like a man on a mission.

Only to stop abruptly in his tracks in the middle of the street…again.

Oh no.

He can't go. Not today, and especially not when the Haruspex is guaranteed to be found there at this hour... He can't face him like this. Not since the last time Artemy stumbled upon him there, wallowing in despair at the lack of progress.

Once was already too many times.

But twice? in the same week?! What kind of picture would he be painting of himself? He needs to remain dignified in his colleague's eyes, for as long as possible. The idea of anyone else seeing him a vulnerable state already irked him to no end, but for it to be the Haruspex... terror gripped his heart.

Turning on his heels, back to where he started, a display that would've marked him as a madman for any unwilling bystander.

Thankfully, this town already views all doctors as mad self-absorbed pricks so It's not like his reputation is on the line here. He could show up to work tomorrow in a clown costume with the suit, red nose and everything, make up some false info about how clown suits have superior insulation and not a single soul would bat an eye.

No. No one would dare question his judgement. Not when their only two other doctors spend their days in secret warehouses, conducting god knows what experiments and smelling vaguely of blood and human organs.

Taking his original route to the stillwaters, Daniil's tense shoulders unconsciously relax as he heads home.

Except for that throbbing pain of a headache steadily growing in his brain, an eerie thick silence filled all the remaining empty corners.

A forbidden name on the tip of his tongue.

His pride won't allow him to wonder how he is doing.

Instead, he settles for convincing himself that it's the panacea that he is concerned with.

…

..

.

At least, Daniil hopes that he's eating well, if nothing else.

Unlocking the house to his resident, the soft glow of candle lights illuminate the corridor. He takes gentle steps towards the end of the room, careful not to awake Eva from her slumber.

Laying on her bed behind the folding screen so comfortably, an open book left sprawled near her hands. The candles flicker with every soft breath she takes.

Extending his hand over, Daniil picks up the stray book. Closing and setting it aside on the bedside table. He tugs the covers upwards towards her chin to tuck her in, takes a moment to stare at the face of the only person in this town who has always remained truthful and kind to him no matter what.

In the corner of his eye, he spots a folded letter just next to where he set the book. A lovely pink colour with floral details on the trim.

Addressed to ‘My dearest, Lara.’

Looking like the cat that swallowed a canary, Daniil is at least happy knowing she has resolved this issue on her own, it still doesn't make his expression any less smug.

It's most likely going to be him who ends up delivering it tomorrow, he has all the time in the world to revel in his victory later.

For now, more urgent matters require his attention.

Not caring about wrinkling his clothes, Daniil gets on his knees as he attempts to spot that special box under the bed in this dim room.

The one where Eva keeps her secret stash of liquor.

When his fingers brush against a wooden surface, Daniil knows he hit the jackpot. Fishing it from under the bed, he's greeted with the cure to shutting up his brain.

Emphasis on the secret part of a supposed secret stash.

The bottles’ labels are too hard to read in this poor lighting. He picks two bottles at random and carefully returns the box to its original place, making a mental note to reimburse Eva later...if he has the money.

By the time he steps outside, the night’s veil has begun to descend down, like curtains being drawn shut at the end of a play. only the stellar corona remains visible off in the distance, illuminating the corridors of the horizons.

Not wanting to throw away whatever remains of his dignity by publicly cracking open a wine bottle and downing it in the middle of the street, Daniil decides to find a secluded spot to drown his sorrows in instead.

The southern edge of the town leading towards the Steppe comes to mind. Specifically that one opening through the rocky walls, right next to the river channel.

A tree silently calls to him through the meadow, its branches vast and powerful. Safety nestles between its exposed roots, orange leaves litter the ground below, rich in their colour that they could easily be mistaken for golden flakes crowning the earth.

The bachelor makes his respite amidst the nest of yellows, the leaves are surprisingly soft and accommodating. The beauty of the natural world in this town still takes him by surprise at times. He doesn't know what he expected, a town this harsh should've given roots to the most vile of flora, thorny branches and razor-sharp edges for leaves was more its forte.

Something this soft...this comforting couldn't have sprung from these blood soaked grounds.

Having remembered to snag a glass before heading out, Daniil breaks the seal on the bottle before filling his goblet to the brim.

It's just another thing he'll add to the short list of miracles this wretched town seems to house. Definitely not at the top of the list, oh no the polyhedron secured that spot since the day he was allowed to step foot on top of it.

Bringing the rim to his dry lips, Daniil takes a slow sip before throwing caution to the wind and downing the whole thing. Whatever flavour it may have had went absolutely unnoticed by his taste buds, whatever effort went into making this aged delicacy went unappreciated for the night.

Just like that, the storm in his brain settles down. Like a swarm of locusts was put to rest in an instant, their buzzing was no more.

Of course he knows these are just expectation-congruent-symptoms and that oral ingestion couldn't have possibly resulted in intoxication this fast. No, the alcohol hasn't even been absorbed by the lining of his stomach walls, nor metabolised by his liver, let alone reached his bloodstream this quickly.

Placebos always ticked him off. Someone with his medical knowledge should be past the point of being affected by them and yet the silence in his mind spoke louder than any published research paper.

I shall please, is what the empty bottom of the glass whispered to him.

Stars shimmer in the hanged heavens above, stage lights are set out to replicate the constellations. No wonder this place used to have an observatory. On a good night, even the naked eye is more than enough to gaze upon the starry night, at least that's what Eva claims.

Daniil hasn't been here long enough to stumble upon this so-called good night, nor does he ever plan to.

He never thought he'd ever miss the polluted smokey air of the capital, the bustling streets and busy life of a living organ, it truly was the heart of the entire country. So unlike the fresh air here, the constant faint scent of herbs makes his nose itch in discomfort. The closer he wandered to the steppe wilderness the more frequent his sneezes became.

Far in the distance, a standing torch is set ablaze, then another and another following it. The dancing golden flames form a semi-circle opposite to the rocky walls.

Sitting up straight from his slouching position, when did he even?-nevermind, Daniil focuses on the many figures emerging from the newly erected tents which weren't there this morning.

Worms, butchers and herb brides.

He studies their features, the atmosphere seems tense in there, as if they're preparing for a funeral.

And yet not a single casket is in sight.

The kin always fascinated him, their culture made him want to pull his hair out as much as it drove him mad with curiosity.

What a beautiful language, what a backwards belief system, what a rich history of folklore, what a needlessly convoluted set of rules that prevented him from doing his job and derailed his progress at every opportunity.

"Nulla rosa sine spinis."

He pours himself another glass-full. Loosening the suffocating silk cravat from around his neck, the snakeskin coat hangs heavy on his shoulders and yet the absolute hypocrisy of criticising another's culture while indulging in his own flies right over his Medicinae Baccalaureus mind.

"Post spinas palma."

A Herb Bride steps at the edges of the circle, dried flower petals entangled throughout her hair, experienced legs carrying her seamlessly throughout her dance, as if she was floating with the winds she swayed with.

It's almost a shame, Daniil runs his fingertip against the rim of his glass, for the many professional ballet shows he has had the luxury of watching in the capital to pale in comparison to one person making up steps as she goes.

His second glass is empty before he realises it, his white blood cells are put to work.

Would Artemy dance the same?

Daniil closes his eyes at the sudden spike in his heart, images are conjured in his brain and flash before his eyes. Fantasies of a certain brute surgeon clad in airy torn clothes, late summer blooms nestling through his golden locks, bare hands tracing upwards his strong hips as if to dare Daniil to avert his eyes.

Daniil's heartbeat quickens, breathing stalls.

Caressing the earth with his bare feet, vulnerable ankles bare to the threat of the elements without his usual army boots to protect them this time around. Would the chilly early autumn air bother the fearsome ripper? Or could he withstand the cold as every hair on his body stood in shivers.

The drink is on the edge of spilling out of his loosely held glass, and yet Daniil's mind makes no effort to break him out of this trance.

Sculpted thighs decorated with loose threads from his torn clothes, what lies between them has been the cause of many sleepless nights to the bachelor. Strong hips leading into a wide waist, a stomach with a blond happy trail, a delicious chest with slouching big shoulders.

Flashes of Anatomy 101 pages turn in Daniil's mind as he overlaps blood vessels maps with his fantasy of Artemy, imagining every vein and artery, the superior and inferior vena cava, the thoracic aorta.

The heart. Beating in the middle, pumping blood into every corner of Artemy's body. Increasing in speed to avoid a heart failure as every calculated step and spin takes toll on Artemy's body. Early signs of exhaustion, his brain adds.

Sweat follows, to cool off the skin and prevent overheating in the muscles. Glistening beautifully under the fire of a dozen torches flickering and dancing along to the song of life. A burning orange light reflecting against Artemy's face, blue eyes seeming grey like a cloudy sky moments before a thunderstorm.

Glaring at Daniil, annoyed and displeased. The mask of intimidation his colleague learned to wield like a weapon, one which came to him oh so naturally, one easily to strip Artemy of. Expose his softness, vulnerability and raw emotions for all to see, for Daniil to be a witness to his tender heart and dissect under a microscope.

Turn the tables on the Menkhu and put him on an examination table under Daniil's knowledge-hungry eyes. Prod and question Artemy about his medical history, private habits, and all the personal details that he's never whispered to a single soul before. After all, doctor patient confidentiality should run deeper than any petty personal feud the two of them might have had in the past week.

Not to mention, he has plausible deniability. For when was the last time Artemy had a proper examination by a real doctor? That's what Daniil thought, so just let him snap on the white rubber gloves and do his job.

Extinguish this burning desire to know more about that blasted surgeon. Artemy finally being an open book with him, for Daniil to turn his pages at his own pace.

Quell the burning in his heart.

Once and for all.

And...the burning in his lungs?

...lungs?

His lungs!

A sharp inhale snaps his thread of fantasy. Daniil opens his eyes to a light-headedness, brain alarms going off at the burning in his lungs from the momentarily lack of air.

His senses are dulled. With an annoyed expression at the rude interruption from his bodily needs, Daniil downs a third and a fourth in quick succession.

To get so lost in one's make believe fantasy that he forgot to breathe, that's a new low, even for him.

The night is still young, the celebration in the far distance shows no signs of stopping. Other Herb Brides stand to the side, watching the dance of their sister. A wetness in the eyes of the youngs of them, whilst the elders held a sombre sorrowful look.

She is still dancing, the same one. Even with blisters in her heels and bruises on her knees, extending the lines and bending the patterns, offered bouquets of herbal flowers which sprung from the soil under her feet, a gift from her soon to be.

It feels like he's intruding on something far more private and complex than it seems, like an uninvited guest at a wedding. Daniil turns his body away. His full weight being supported against the surprisingly soft bark of the tree.

To gaze upon the polyhedron instead.

Parting the abyss oceans of Nyx's creation with its cosy off-white light, pulsing underneath the paper walls in a breathtaking sight.

A lighthouse beckoning you closer amidst the storm, a siren's call to come back home.

Each day Dankovsky falls more and more in love with this wonderful creation, this miracle akin to two different organisms colliding into one, working in unison. A brand new symbiogenesis emerging before everyone's eyes, the first ever to be witnessed since life began, a revelation bound to change the very essence of science akin to the creation of mitochondria, plastid and all of the eukaryotic cells.

And god willing, it's happening during the short lifespan of the humankind, during Daniil Dankovsky's own lifetime.

Time after time, Artemy refuses to understand how it is the most important thing in this cursed town. Preferring to point Daniil towards the grass and trees, the branches and breeze. Singing the praises of the soil and cattle, of the worms and rivers, of the kin and brothers.

Of the so-called miracles of the mundane.

Danill scoffs, does he really expect the meaning of life to be found under a rock or in some cave? Most of these things can be spotted in any random street of any random town, he even told him so.

But Artemy had the audacity to look at him as if he was stupid, as if Daniil was playing the fool.

"That's the point, Oynon, these are the lines connecting us."

He didn't get to reply back, he had to cut their argument short courtesy of a patient biting Rubin's hand, leading Daniil to do an emergency disinfection and sterilisation while barking orders at the useless orderlies to remove that rowdy patient from the theatre this instant.

The rest of their shift was spent in silence, with Artemy ignoring his presence to be more precise. Finishing performing his daily autopsies before checking in with Rubin and making his departure.

Not sparing Daniil even a glance.

Abandoning the now empty bottle, Daniil cracks open the seal of the second one with frustration, mood souring by the minute as he pours himself a fifth.

He indirectly insulted Artemy's childhood town and its people, so what? Sue him. It's not like he was saying anything false, the town is as common as dirt. If anything it's falls short of meeting even the minimum bar of requirements, he still can't get over the lack of hospitals. How does anyone survive through childbirth in here? how do infants even make it out with no serious problems?

He studied in the best schools god dammit, practised medicine throughout most of his lifetime. Been by the book since day one. One simple outlier is far from enough to dissuade him from the clean, even paved path of the scientific method.

That's what Artemy doesn't understand, that unlike him, Daniil has something to lose if he suddenly starts believing in fairy-tales and taking things at face value.

Years of study down the drain, diplomas and degrees reduced to ash. Call him a coward but he'll never leap off the edge simply out of faith or the kindness in his heart. He requires proof, evidence of these tales passed by generations and very likely altered with each new line.

Rationality is the one thing anchoring him in the madness of the indifferent universe, his one lifeline.

Artemy is dear to his heart, it's too cruel of him to ask Daniil to throw away the one thread holding him from falling into the abyss of despair.

It's not right, Artemy claims, to cherry pick what parts of nature to use and discard.

But that's okay, that's fine.

For death is the ultimate inevitable nature of all things brimming with life, his biggest enemy of them all. Nature is meant to be understood, divided then conquered, not worshipped or revered.

Looking up at the constellations above, Daniil's eyes soften at the pale moon.

When did that brilliant child grow up to be so harsh?

In another life, maybe, a young Daniil would've happily talked Artemy's ear off about beetles and their place in the natural world, the other kind enough to listen and share all the interesting facts about flowers and their many names.

It's too late now, for he's far too old, too jaded, too grown.

Too afraid.

Fate is a cruel mistress, throwing the two of them aboard this selfish chessboard game of Me, My and I.

Mihi, Meus, Ego.

One must rise so the others may die.

Potest solum unum.

The Kains have his back much like a skull contains a brain. Around them he feels like he's floating in stasis, breaking himself down at dawn and rebuilding back up come dusk.

A solis ortu usque ad occasum.

Maria's ruthless heart, Victor's cold eyes, Georgiys madness spewing tongue, Casper's escapism filled mind.

Do the Olgimskays pull Artemy by the seams around, too? He wonders, or is it just him that the Kains made a puppet of to dance. Does the proclaimed master of bulls take care of those said bulls? Does he pull Artemy by the horns or tug at his tail then point him towards the enemy?

The father is rotten to the core, the son an enigma as a whole.

Who knows what's life like in the haruspex's shoes. What Artemy gets up to each night before going to bed, who he talks to first thing in the morning, who acts as his advisor and aid, which powers he kneels before and pleads.

The polyhedron pulses and glows, intoxication slurring the world around him into a blur.

A soft scream goes off in the distance, Daniil doesn't pay it much mind. The tree cradling him is unbelievably comforting and nice, is this the same wood the polyhedron planks were carved out of?

His mind wanders back to the herb brides, as dainty as flowers, as delicate as petals. Eva seems enamoured with them, the way she dresses and twirls, humming a melody of her own design, echoing through the observatory to an audience of one consisting of him and the papers he's scribbling on.

A messy desk amidst a messy room, an oil lamp resting next to the highly flammable books. This morning's tray of tea one slip away from falling off of the desk's edge, empty cups with floral designs keep him company deep into the night.

The same tray Eva kindly prepares for him each sunrise, wordlessly waiting for him to bring it down on his own, worried she might disturb him if she ever sets foot on the second floor.

A forget-me-not, Artemy was spot on.

Aware of it or not, she's brought life into this empty stillwaters house. Painting the walls and dusting the corners, fixing the windows and tracing the cracks on the floors. Even when she's gone, the echoes of her voice will live on, for any passersby to hear.

Daniil is not much like a flower himself. Although he never gave it much thought, maybe others would disagree. Paint him as an especially thorny rose or something from a poisonous vine, like Larkspur, Oleander or a Wolf's Bane.

Something with venom in its vines, something bitter on the tongue and stings the skin. Something that broke its oath to do no harm.

Artemy, however, was the furthest thing from a flower.

No, he reminded Daniil of something far larger...a tree, actually.

Uprooted and replanted several times over, taken from its cradle of rich soil and forced to adapt to several different pH levels just to survive, grow thicker bark, jagged branches and a strong core to never have to rely on anyone's support. Only for it to come back home, a completely different plant in essence, standing out amongst its kin and forced to struggle to fit in.

What's a flower to a tree?

What was it all for?

Sanding down his own horns only to end up having to regrow them back, losing the sense of belonging into either communities.

Daniil has thought long and hard about the puzzle Isidor left to his son in the inheritance Alexander seized and presented before him, a final conversation left one-sided for it was way past its prime.

Maybe he knew deep down it was too late for goodbyes. That the day he let Artemy leave the town was the last day he ever had someone to call a son.

Which face did he picture when he wrote that letter, Daniil wonders, the face of the a young Artemy with stars in his eyes, waving to his father through the open windows of a moving train leaving the town, or the blurry face an unknown grown man, vaguely sharing his features and visibly aged by life's hardships and teared down.

The moon too, used to be a part of earth once upon a time. For God has kept the moon from the wolves for a reason, Eva's words ring true in his ears.

Just out of reach, a full moon hanging up high, Apollo's sister must be nearby.

What's a rock to a moon?

The second bottle is halfway empty now. Somewhere along these thoughts, the doctor abandoned the glass on a patch of grass, preferring to sip from the mouth of the aged grape vine directly instead. Stray droplets of wine red trailing down the edges of his lips, travelling down his jaw and intertwining back into one as they meet under his chin.

Before gravity takes its toll and the surface pressure on the fragile droplet breaks, falling onto his shirt below like a one-droplet rain, staining the white fabric just between where his lungs cradled his heart.

Daniil pays it no mind, or is it his mind which can't afford the price of focus?

The polyhedron still stands tall. The longer he stares the more he can make out the quiet sound the structure makes in the distance, or maybe it's the fact the noise of celebration in the background has massively quieted down.

Curiosity, the bringer of doom to felines, takes the better of him and turns his head around towards the blazing torches.

Only to be met with nothing. Tents still stood high, yes, but not a sign of a single person in sight. The dancing herb bride is missing, the worms and butchers nowhere to be found, even the lights are dimming down as the wind snuffs the fires out.

Just barely, a reflection of one of the final flames on the ground catches his eyes. A puddle of red amidst a dozen flowers or so, just as red in colour with a couple white coloured herbs littering the ground.

He recognises these plants, ones Artemy carried around. Their pleasant smell acted as an undertone to the sharp scent of blood that followed the surgeon everywhere.

Daniil never got the opportunity to inquire for their names, nor did his vision ever separate them from the several other species of weeds which blended with the grass strands.

Never enough time for anything, that's been the norm for his past week in this town. Even his meetings with Artemy are too few and far in between, he barely managed to grasp at the tail of deciphering steppe language and phrases with the other's help before their conversation, like always, is ended abruptly by the ringing of the church's bells. Just like that, an hour slipped from between his fingers, time indifferent to the full plates Daniil's desperately balancing on two hands and a foot.

Tempus fugit.

It must be past midnight now, by a lot.

The capital never slept, cafes brimming with life at the oddest of hours deep into the night, mugs filled to the brim with scorching coffee served in paper cups to all kinds of people coming in and out. Meanwhile the ones residing at the tables with stacks of notebooks and tightly held pens got theirs on silver trays, barely glancing in the direction of the waiter as they swallowed the bitter drink down.

All shops stayed open at all times, casinos and libraries alike under the cloudy skies, fewer stars in sight for the streets were too bright. As a group danced under neon lights another cramped for their 8am exam.

Daniil spent it in Thanatica research labs. It was almost a ritual to him at that point, to be the first one to arrive and the last one to depart. Clinical white walls and sterilised marble floors, cryo freezers which held all kinds of tissues in several different states of decay. Hoping a breakthrough will arrive and that maybe his team could revive another sample and steal it from Thanatos merciless yellow eyes.

How are they faring without him? His assistants and colleagues never made an attempt at contact, didn't even send a courtesy letter since the town was put into quarantine with him trapped inside. Did they simply not notice because they too lacked any perception of time? Or did they not care at all? To forget and move on.

Bitterness at the tip of his tongue, sliding down his throat to sink like poison into his lungs. The familiar taste of his own sour venom. Warm, mocking, salty to the taste. Paralysing, stings the roof of his mouth.

Daniil tilts his chin up towards the sky, takes one final sip before the now empty bottle gets thrown across the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces, piercing the night silence with its sharp sound.

To hell with them all.

"H..hominibus…plenum- amicis-IS vacuum" Daniil's speech comes out slurred, words mushed together, vowels vaguely sounded, the pronunciation is a mess as a whole.

And yet, he persists, "Amici probant...u..ur" cursing under his breath in frustration, trying to recall the sentence in full. Not giving up, "rebus...adversis"

Walking seems like a very bad idea at the moment. Slurring his latin like a drunk is one thing but stumbling around with two left feet is another. Laying fully down to get more comfortable, his head rests against one of the tree's exposed roots.

Facing above, counting the stars, feeling the polyhedron gaze back at him, hearing its eerie melody.

The voice of empathy.

Of childhood dreams, of immortality.

Of things yet to be, of desires untold, of worlds anew.

Of heresy.

Of the garden.

Eve's apple, Adam's sin, God's tree.

It's out of view, for now. Lifting his neck seems too expensive for a simple task.

The faint sound of a heartbeat drums under his ears, echoing from the ground below, alive and pumping the blood to freely flow.

He mistakes it for his own, after all who else's would it be?

Last time he checked trees don't sprout fruits made of hearts. They don't own roots with veins, they don't feel any pain when you cut them down and burn their trunks to the ground.

Only humans do, and Daniil has never felt more human in his life than this very moment.

Burying himself into his snakeskin coat to evade the chilly air, longing for another's warm embrace.

Artemy blood must run hot, with all the things the ripper gets up to in the darkest of hours. Adrenaline soaked brain, blooded fists and strained muscles. His physique must be the envy of every soldier, the pride of every march, the mastered body of a surgeon, trained and disciplined, carved into perfection.

Is it simply in his nature or did it require hard work to achieve? A natural born gift that was an early inheritance bonus or a marble statue years into the making?

It's magnetic in the way it pulls Daniil in. Makes him spot Artemy in a crowd from miles away, makes him trace his figure with his eyes, noticing every contract and release of muscle tissue as Artemy gets put to work with a scalpel.

Even hidden under these insulated clothes with tightly secured belts on each cuff and hem, Artemy's body was nothing short of a beautiful work of art.

But his build simply just wasn't the star of the show, was it?

No. Artemy's hands were the main course amidst his sculpted towering body. Those pretty precise surgeon-hands are capable of making the cleanest of cuts even with nothing but a rusty scalpel.

Bare and exposed to the elements. Tantalising and taunting Daniil, reddening knuckles with the occasional bruises. Wrists just out of sight as they disappear under one of those belt cuffs sealing his outfit in place like a glove.

Heat is pooling down his stomach, a primal feeling Daniil has been in the habit of ignoring for the last week.

And yet his dear colleague seems eager to approach every problem fists first, risking irreversible nerve damage with every punch he throws around, with every misfire of a gun or a lucky stroke of a foe's knife.

Daniil scoffs.

An idiot, that's what Artemy is, for how could he not see that these hands are worth the townsfolk combined weight in gold? they're once in a century kind of special. Any doctor worth half their degree wouldn't let a surgeon this good slip away from their fingers.

Only a fool would, and Daniil Dankovsky is not a fool.

That's why they need to work together. Just the idea of having these golden hands under his beck and call already has his brain bursting with euphoria at the potential of what the both of them could achieve, if only Artemy would stop being so stubborn and start doing exactly what Daniil orders him to.

A tightness against the constraints of his trousers, lust rearing its head. Daniil refuses to acknowledge it still.

Maybe it's the lowered tolerance courtesy of his student days of wild drinking, or maybe Eva just happened to have an uncharacteristic preference for strong liquor, but whatever was in these two bottle's is clawing at Daniil's last remaining thread of decorum.

Pretty hands like these should be protected, he concludes, under lock and key, preferably under Daniil's own supervision for as long as possible.

Long fingers, an iron grip, and a reassured, confident movement with a steady calculated amount of pressure.

A shudder runs down Daniil's spine as he imagines the ghost of those hands’ touch his skin. The way Artemy would run them through his hair, pulling at Daniil's soft black strands with that lovely glare in his eyes.

Fists tug at the grass below, an ache between his legs begging to be released from these constricting clothes. Daniil's hand could just as easily reach down and undo his belt, pull his hardness out and experience a little death, la petite mort.

Oh, how beautiful those angry eyes were, the pouty grimacing lips that made Daniil want to give him a real reason to be angry about.

The near constant scowl, the fire in these eyes. The terror Artemy instilled in every person he walked by, both of his features and sheer massive size painted him as a someone not to be messed with. Daniil has heard all the stories, got handed all the rumours about Artemy's little adventures and brawls. The one time he beat 4 worms in fight, the way he survived a whole town out for his blood on the first night, even Daniil himself had readied a gun and stashed enough bullets just in order to confront him when he was still a suspect in Isidor's murder.

Only for Artemy to come to him first. Or to Rubin's to be more precise, completely taking Daniil by surprise and throwing rehearsed speech off the rails.

...the amount of things Daniil discovered about himself through their short conversation that day. He was never one to fall for appearance alone and yet everything about Artemy screamed physical power and untamed.

But knowledge is true power, therefore Daniil couldn't stop his mind from imagining the other on his knees as their conversation progressed.

He wants to ruin Artemy in every meaning of the word.

Artemy's hands down his neck, cupping his nape. They must be so warm and big. He's more than aware of Artemy's deadly grip, the many lives those hands have ended, a weapon by themselves. A horrifying reaper of souls, capable of both breaking bones and stitching flesh back together.

Isn't alcohol supposed to lower the blood flow to the reproductive system? So why does Daniil feel like he could lose his mind if he doesn't attend to his bodily needs immediately.

Now is not the time nor the place for an erection. There is a plague going around, the sick and ill litter the streets, people die with every stroke of every hour, he is nowhere close to making a vaccine.

He does not have the time for this

The grass is being teared upwards by his clenching fists, dirt from the earth below seeping under his fingernails. Jaw closed tightly with his teeth pressed against each other in a grind.

A pulsing echo in his body, of lust, need and desire. Of neglected urges left unfulfilled.

How can one man have this effect on him, a person he barely met and is yet to get to know properly. A person who is a friend, a foe and a stranger all the same.

To prove someone wrong is the ultimate pleasure in life. For someone who is so used to being in control, Daniil wants nothing more than to flip the tables on him and show Artemy how good it feels to submit to someone else, to be pulled and ordered around. That he doesn't have to be the responsible eldest Burakh around him, nor the fearsome ripper or the wise Menkhu. That Daniil could corner him into a checkmate whenever he wanted to, the board has always favoured the mind that plays it, not the hand moving the pieces.

The body wants what it wants, the heart wants what it wants.

How can he resist the way Artemy's fingers would dig into his back? Trimmed nails burying into his soft flesh with every thrust of Daniil's hips between his darling surgeon's spread legs. his beloved calling Oynon over and over, eyes closed shut to evade Daniil's intense gaze, studying him and taking notice of every single small detail, counting the droplets of sweat and hungry for any revelation to act as the solution to the puzzle, an explanation for this anomaly of his strongly founded infatuation.

Just like that, his last thread is snapped in half.

Hands abandoning the ground, one clumsily tugging at his belts as the other presses down against the painful throbbing under his pants. Grinding himself against it without a trace of shame.

What expression would he make as Daniil robbed him of his pride? Would he close his eyes shut right out of shame or match Daniil's fervent eyes with hunger and acceptance of who they are.

What noises would he make? What sounds could Daniil steal from his throat? Would Artemy call him on a first or last name basis? Or would he use that sweet title Daniil's grown to love, oynon.

With a body like that and a heart that tender, Artemy must feel nothing short of heavenly inside. Tight walls of warmth enclosing around Daniil's cock, bearing the fruits of his labour after Daniil thoroughly prepares him and opens him up with his fingers beforehand.

Or would Artemy do it himself instead? Let Daniil sit there and watch as Artemy puts his golden hands to use, feeling his own tight insides being prodded and spread open with his own fingers. Letting Daniil have a front row seat to this exhibition of devotion and primal lust.

The clank of his belt falling off is all the hint Daniil needs to immediately move his hand below his clothes. Stroking himself with feverish intensity, the pleasure shooting through his brain was more delicious than any wine he's ever tasted.

After Artemy's done, and as Daniil has him laid down below him, exposed and bare, Daniil would take the other's hands into his own. As his cock is sinking inside Artemy, he would pepper his fingers with kisses, licking the sensitive skin between each finger , grazing the stitches and lines on his flesh with his teeth, sucking the thin skin in the middle of his palm.

Biting the inside of Artemy's wrists. Leaving his mark on the only off-limits hidden parts of Artemy's hands is ascending his ego to the stars.

Entangle their fingers together, holding hands as their souls and bodies become one.

Nice and safe, Daniil will take care of Artemy's golden hands.

"circumda torquem bracchiis, meum collum circumplecte." A whisper of a love confession in the lonely night, Daniil's voice comes out breathless and filled with yearning.

Daniil's possessive grip on the surgeon's thighs, wrapping them around his own waist so he may go deeper inside. Press a hand down Artemy's stomach and imagine what it would be to feel his own cock against his palm, thrusting in and out, creating patterns with Artemy and tracing the lines.

Has Artemy been on the receiving end on the bed ever before? Someone like him is always stereotypically expected to take charge. Has he any past experiences with someone through his days of travel? A childhood friend perhaps? Maybe a moment of experimentation with Rubin or Grief?

Jealousy makes itself known as a tightness in his throat, a boil in his blood, a green envy coiling like a snake's tail around his heart.

....He doesn't want to entertain that hypothesis anymore.

Daniil himself...didn't have many people to share a bed with, and the numbers kept dwindling down since the end of his college years.

People respect him, revere him even and swear by his brilliant mind. But liking him is a completely different story, at times he's not sure if he even likes himself.

What he knows for a fact, is that Artemy likes him as much as he hates him. He wouldn't answer his letters and invitation calls so frequently otherwise, he wouldn't share all the information about the kin and steppe language as freely if he didn't think of Daniil as deserving of knowledge.

Artemy respects him as an equal, hates his ways but loves his mind. Understands his good intentions but is disappointed in his means of actions. Their relationship is absurdly complex and painfully simple.

Sometimes, he questions if Artemy knows him better than he knows his own self at times.

A lot of Daniil's actions, a lot of who he is was shaped in spite of, not because of.

He hates death more than he loves life, he dislikes failing more than he enjoys winning, he is annoyed by others more than he is charmed by them.

Happiness didn't come easy for him, it was a luxury of his brain to chemically produce. His hedonic set point prefers to stay under the average baseline in comparison to the rest of the population. The older he gets, the harder it is to be fueled by anything other than bitterness and hate.

Hate for the people abusing their powers, hate for the unfairness and injustice. Hate for the way this cruel world breaks the fragile hearts of any of those who dare hope or dream, the way wolves tear the naive apart.

Hate for this stupid incurable ever-evolving plague.

And bitterness for the passion he's robbed of everyday.

When perfection is expected of him, praise becomes a luxury.

To cure death. What a naive, childish dream. The type of which adults in the room would coo and aww at, in condescending endearment of the ignorant child who can't come to terms on why grandma can't visit them anymore, on why his brother hasn't come back from the war, on why his cat ran away or why his dog moved to a far off farm.

The world will have to claw that last remaining naivety out of Daniil's cold dead, mutilated corpse. It will have to break his fingers in order for him to let go of the box where he kept this dream, it will have to reach into his chest and dig the key hidden behind his heart in order to unlock the box.

It will have to tear him apart, limb from limb. It will have to take everything dear to his heart, it will have to break his mind and pluck his tongue before he ever gives up.

He's a very selfish and stubborn man.

He wants more of life, more of power, more of love and lust.

More and more, he wants all of there is of Artemy to offer. Every whimper and moan, every curse and groan, Daniil wants to swallow him whole. All is fair in love and war. Omnes volumnus plus. Et plus, et plus et plurimus.

With the long amount he's gone without any self-gratification, it doesn't come as a surprise to him at all when he already finds himself close to the edge. Pre-cum soiling his hands with its sticky texture as the act of this in public soils his pride and taints his soul.

But he's earned it. Slaving every hour for this thankless town with its corrupted systems of power. Between all the looting, murder, scheming, lying and information manipulation he has been forced to do, this sinful act of indignity should be the least of his concerns.

Just how would Artemy act after the deed is done? Would he finally open up more to Daniil and view it as a stepping stone into what could potentially blossom into a relationship? Or would he sweep it under the rug, brushing it off as a mere bodily need for release, pretending it never happened. Curiosity is killing Daniil, both possibilities are very interesting to explore, both plausible, both imply so many things and answer so many unspoken questions.

Oh how much fun Daniil would have with an opportunity like that. Maybe make a habit out of holding Artemy's hand in his own instead of their usual one word greeting. Daniil could just as easily grasp the other's hand, caressing it with his own gloved fingers before leaving a tender sweet kiss on its back.

Fuck, just the thought of doing that so openly to Artemy at every opportunity is fanning the flames of desires in his body.

All of the town already views him as the obnoxious outsider from the capital, why not lean into it and show Artemy just how obnoxious a true gentleman acts.

Daniil could hold him by the waist while having a friendly chat, link their arms together when walking down the street, kiss his hand in greeting, and offer a courtesy bow in goodbyes.

Sugar every sentence with endearing pet names.

My dearest Artemy

My love, my dove.

Mea vita, mea lux.

Meum delicium, meum suavium.

Mea voluptas unica, meum corculum.

Mea spes, meum solatium.

Meum decus.

Burakh.

Treat the hulking intimidating surgeon like he'd treat a delicate spring flower back in the capital. Really drive it home just how much more annoying Daniil could be if he wanted to.

In his last seconds of ecstasy, just reaching the heights of pleasures, Daniil indulges his wandering mind one final time. A simple stroke of a pen, a pair of golden rings, Artemy Dankovsky.

The euphoria goes through him in waves, movement stalls as stripes of white cover his hand. The climax hits him harder than he ever expected it to, leaving him gasping for breath with his wine stained shirt sticking to his sweaty skin below. Black hair a mess, strands entangled with leaves of orange, yellow and gold, forehead glistening with sweat.

Coming down from his high, the earth grounds him below. A rhythm of a heartbeat akin to sleeping on someone's chest, cradled in their arms, safe and sound.

Daniil swallows down the dryness in his throat, counting the seconds, steadying his breath. With his other hand he takes out the handkerchief from the inner pocket of his coat, wiping the sweat off his forehead, neck and finally using it to clean his other hand.

An isolated spot from everyone else, what a find this Eden was for him to stumble upon.

The autumn wind cools him off, swaying the tree's branches above. Daniil watches as even more leaves fall gently down to the ground, framing his hair like a crown.

The universe extends him an olive branch, he gladly accepts it, content for just a simple moment to close his eyes, which is more than he expected.

Daniil is a selfish man, Artemy has clocked him right since the first day in this town.

Selfish in his thirst for knowledge, selfish in his desire for victory, selfish in his stubbornness for a better tomorrow, a better humanity. A true utopia with no fear or hunger, no death or plunder.

The amount of progress he could achieve if only he'd be able to whisk this once-in-a-lifetime surgeon back with him to Thanatica. Far better than the imbecile feet-for-hands-called surgeons that Daniil was forced to settle for while accumulating his research.

The possibilities of what the two of them could achieve, the breakthroughs they could make together, all for humanity, all for love and all of the above.

But if only.

If only.

What luck, what shame.

By the time he opens his eyes, the day is anew. Dusk has risen, the dice has been cast, and new cards are being played.

The sun peaking through the edges of the world on the horizon, the night veil is lifted, Luna bids her goodbyes, a full lovely moon goes unappreciated for the night.

What a thankless job it is for the earth to spin, for the sun to rise, for the moon to set. What a rotten job it is to nourish and protect, to illuminate the sky and share warmth with any passers-by, to sooth the waves and count the days.

Just to exist.

With his liver working overtime between all the immunity boosters, coffee beans and now alcohol, Daniil feels the aftermath clawing at the corners of his mind, a menacing hangover just out of reach.

Slowly, carefully, he sits up. Back sore from laying on the harsh uneven ground, head throbbing from the movement.

He must look like a mess.

The inquisitor will be arriving today. Daniil is as good as dead, might at least make himself look presentable in his final day of life.

Firstly he fixes his belt back into place, then runs his fingers through his hair, watching the various leaves and occasional small twigs fall down, plus the single ladybug which crawled through his strands. Brushing it back and smoothing it down as best as he can.

Standing fully upright, he leans back against the tree while he folds and wraps his silk cravat back into place. Adjusting the brooch which was coming loose and clipping it into its usual centre spot.

As for his stained shirt...well he'll just close the top buttons of his coat. Scrounge up as much decorum and dignity as he can before stepping a foot on a paved street with people walking around, hopefully he can make it back to Eva's house without an incident or someone stopping him in his tracks. Hopefully the red vest he packed with him is still somewhere in the back of his closet, maybe it's time to fully incorporate it into his everyday wardrobe if this stain remains stubborn to remove.

He's sure he packed some hangover medicine-just in case-in his bag before he came to town, not to mention the abundance of morphine he had stashed in a drawer next to the milk bottles. Ah speaking of those, he probably should drink them up before they go bad, even with their vile taste they're still a valuable source of nutritions.

Three problems and three solutions. Let's see what else is there? Well, besides his usual routine of makeshift-hospital rounds and running errands for rich morons.

Ah yes. His foolish smitten heart and Artemy's oblivious mind.

Maybe he'll try again today, offer another invitation about wanting to work together, how he can't do this without Artemy by his side.

And maybe, a miracle might just happen. Maybe the heavens will take pity on his tortured heart, maybe the surgeon will lift the gates and finally let him inside.

Maybe two souls will become whole again in each other's embrace. With his mind and Artemy's heart relaying on each other, entrusting one another, confiding together, even the moon doesn't seem that out of reach.

Let alone a pathetic sad excuse of a plague, a corrupted rotten joke of government, the apathetic desensitisation to human suffering infecting the streets. He will find the solution, together with Artemy, the will of truth prevails.