#abraytha

[that-cia-agent]

Nardeth: Meeting Abraytha was fun I liked Abraytha let's go back to Abraytha

Mrellin: you literally spent the whole time cowering

Zerlan: and I nearly died.

Nardeth: mmm

Mrellin: you're drunk again, aren't you. *Crosses arms and turns away*

Nardeth: pthhh no! So what if I am? What's the big deal? Mrelly, come on, what's the problem?

Mrellin: don't. I can't do this right now.

Nardeth: Mrell-

Mrellin: just don't. *Walks away. Zerlan doesn't know what to do*

[a-writable-paradox]

Foggy Memories

Narrator is Xiantio fist --

I tossed and turned, and then lay down on my back. I could see the stars, and I could see their eternal beauty. The constellations of Zeus, Urion, and Avathorn took up skyward vision. Over to my right lay Lavender, and to my left Zachariah.

I got up from the hard forest floor - we weren't in Fimbletrex anymore, but in Greenstone - and walked over to the edge of the cliff, and sat down. Far down the edge of the mountain, past Fimbletrex Forest, I could see a ruined building. The building in which I grew up and learnt our history - or rather, the history the Capital wanted us to believe. The building the resistance - or a branch of it - started in, lead by Excellynia Croft. And the building the some terrorist Imperealis-sympathisers bombed in the 9th year of the War. I could still see the sycamore in the gardens where me and Xiantio used to lie together, telling each other stories of our lives. But we can't do that now. That's why I can't sleep today. She's gone now, they took her.

---------

Three days prior, me and Abraytha were sleeping together under the trees of Retrex, next to the Red Mountains and Fimbletrex Forest, when a capital guard fell down from the sky, his black and purple armour glistening in the starlight of a myriad never-worlds. The guard moved swiftly and silently along the forest floor, burning every finely crafted leaf into a thousand pieces of ash and ember. This angel of death, this Apollyn, stood over us, and they knelt. Then they touched Abraytha on the head, and both of them were gone. I immediately felt it, the cold brought on by the sudden removal of his warmth, and I stood up. Shaking all over, I looked around, but could not see him anywhere. I called out to Zachariah, who was camping with me, and he helped look. When we started the sky was black, but by the time we had finished, the orange chariot of dawn had already risen over the hilltops. I lay down and cried, bawling my eyes out for I had lost my last connection to my life before the War, and my lover.

------

They could be doing anything with him, even bending and twisting his timestream. Oh, Ouroboros! I forgot about that! They could change his life so that he never met me, and then-

-----

I walked back to camp to see my best friend Zachariah, and new comrade Lavender, lying on the floor. I joined them. Closing my eyes, I expected to call asleep quickly. But there was a thought nagging in the back of my head that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and it kept me tossing and turning all night until the sun rose and we began our walk towards the Red Plains. But I couldn't drop the feeling I was forgetting something, not when Zachariah talked to me about someone he loved he was meeting by the shores of Rostrand, beyond the Red Plains and the Tashrun Marshes, in fact I found myself shedding tears of sadness, but I could not understand why. I could not drop the thought when Lavender told me of all the wild things she had got up to previously to meeting us in the Betweenlands. Not even when I sat down to make us all lunch, boiling rock-potatoes over the fire, and serving with sweet leaves. After a while longer, when I had my head leaning on Zachariah's shoulder whilst we walked, Zachariah asked me what was wrong. I didn't know how to explain it, because even I did not know, so I just said I was tired.

--Switch to Abraytha's perspective-

I awoke in a cold sweat, lights glaring. I was in a room... No. I was in a white bed, in a black void, which had white light shining in from distant points. There was nothing around me, as far as I could see. As the lights faded I remembered my life. I was with a boy... A resistance... I loved....

A purple mist permeates the void in which Abraytha slept, covering everything

I awoke in a cold sweat, lights glaring. I was in a room... No. I was in a white bed, in a black void, which had white light shining in from distant points. There was nothing around me, as far as I could see. As the lights faded I remembered my life. I was with a boy... A resistance... I loved....

A purple mist permeates the void in which Abraytha slept, covering everything

I awoke in a cold sweat, and sat upright. There was a strange feeling of déjà vu, as if this had happened before, but I quickly dismissed it. I was a capital guard, and I must begin my journey.

walk out of the black room I was in, and into a seemingly endless corridor. I know my way around, but can't recall learning. Actually, when I think about it for about 20 seconds, I do remember a coach teaching me all the ways around this complex. What was I doing? Oh yeah. I need to get to Convergence Room to do... A thing. Yes. A thing. Seeing an elevator ten metres away, I walked towards it and get in, pressing the button labeled "0". I arrived in a hallway resembling an ordinary business hallway in all ways except one. It was white, all over. Every single inch of the walls, floor, and roof were totally devoid of any individualism that defined life. If you'd ask me if there were windows, I'd say yes, although I could not describe them or what was through them. Just like the windows, I feel like there were people but have no idea who or how many or how they looked. No one questioned me.. why would they, I'm following capital orders, am I not? I'm confused...

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

That night I slept alone. I have all my life, since I stopped sleeping with my mother when I was a small child, but for some reason I feel like there was a body missing from my side. He smelt of nature, adventure, and of familiarity. I would rest my nose into his shoulder every night and take in his scent with one big sniff before resting down for the night against him - No he didn't. Because he doesn't exist?? What am I on. Sleep, that's what I need. So I slept. Or at least tried to, because that nagging feeling of loss would just not disappear. Early in the morning a while before the sun had begun to rise, I woke up and decided to get up and take a small walk, to see if that would help. So I picked up my torch and wrote a small note on some paper and placed it next to the fire for Lavender and Zachariah, and made my way toward the cliff edge. The leaves crunched underneath my bare feet; I heard a krodeav* twit-tweroo'ing. I sat down, legs dangling over the gorge. A solitary tear trickled down my cheek, made its way down my body, and fell off, falling down and hitting a cliff-bound twig; it sagged and let the tear drop down through the gorge until it collided with the still lake at the bottom, and made a wave explode across the entire surface, turning over a leaf that had been stood still for over a month.

*a native flying bird of Gieakron which roughly resembled the earth bird "crow", although also sometimes twit-tweroo'ed like an owl, and flocked around gieakronians about to suffer a temporary "fatality", particularly when they reached 100 and were considered "adult"

I had been fixated on the pool so hard, that when a hand touched my shoulder I almost jumped off the cliff, but he managed to catch me, and got all flustered. Then when I was back to safety, I was confused as to why that was, as I'd never met this person before in my life. Or had I...? He smiled at me, and we sat down together on the cliff. I asked him who he was, and he just smiled, patting my hand (which peculiarly I rather enjoyed). We spent a long time, until the sun rose, talking to each other, and I started to remember who he was. His name was Abby, or Jasmine, or something like that. But then the sun rose, and he said he needed to leave, so I left also and went back to sleep for a couple more hours.

When I awoke, I felt slightly more tired then usual, which was weird because I did not remember getting up during the night or anything.

-- Switch to Abraytha's perspective --

I found the door, and I opened it, white light enveloping me as I looked into infinite alternity. Stepping forward, the door behind me closed, and I glided closer to the Convergence. I reached one hand out and spread my fingers, touching the light...

Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

In the next day, we made it to the Red Plains and set up camp in the edge of a clearing with a sycamore tree. As soon was my head hit the makeshift pillow I felt myself fall into a dreamscape of wild memories, before resurfacing after what felt like no time. But it must have been hours, because the sky no longer resembled an artist's brush of orange paints, but rather the ink of a spilled fountain pen. I made my way towards the sycamore, with a feeling of expectation that I couldn't quite pin down. After sitting with my back up against the tree for a couple of minutes, I saw him walk towards me.

"Help me, Xiantio" he said, his voice raspy and hardly audible.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, but even as I did I felt that I knew why. He knew me, and perhaps even I knew him.

"Please.", his voice sounded scared, and he sat down next to me. I welcomed him into an embrace, and he warmly excepted. I felt myself sinking my head into his rough shirt, and taking in his scent. This felt totally normal, almost a natural reflex, but I had never touched him before now. We stayed lying together, telling each other stories of our lives: me of my travels with Lavender and Zachariah, and him of his life working for the Capital. This facet of his life shocked me, but I felt no repulsion. Sometimes, though, we'd find ourselves telling the same story about both of us together as children. As this continued I felt even more strongly that I knew who he was, and in fact had almost solidified his name: Abraytha. It was around this time that I remembered the affairs of last night. Along with this continuation of memory came a wave of sadness and joy; emotions I could not figure out in this moment.

In the following days we met every night, with me always forgetting during the day but remembering more and more by night.

-- Switch to Abraytha's perspective --

And I stepped into the light...

And I saw him. Next to the cliff, by the sycamore tree, as children in the schoolyard. And I saw him, not the one I learnt had been my boyfriend in another life, but that other life itself. An alternate version of myself, locked away within the confines of the Metaphysic. I was not that boy, but that boy was greater than I could ever be. I tried to reach out to him, pull him toward me, but I couldn't reach. No matter how far I went, or how outstretched I hung my arm, he was always just out of reach. So I looked down and saw the one he - I, whatever- loved so dearly. So I delved into those spaces and I met with the boy - Xiantio - and I felt the other me surface more and more. It was scary, because I was loosing who I had known to be me my whole life, but it felt good because this boy found so much happiness in this other me. But every morning when the sun rose I felt myself disappearing back into the ether of that Convergence Room, so I excused myself.

Eventually I saw on the other side of that room not the boyfriend of Xiantio, but the capital guard. For I know was the boyfriend, and I was never taken by the capital. And as I wasn't taken - but kind of was, it's complicated - I could return through the floor of the convergence even in daylight. And that I did, and me and Xiantio lay in the grass until the sun set.

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

That night I didn't sleep at all. But it wasn't because I felt like something was missing, but rather because I had found that very thing once more.

[thecheshirehouse]

Introducing…The Cheshire House!

This is our logo, drawn by the amazing @aristidetwain!

https://thecheshirehouse.wordpress.com/

The Cheshire House is a new website which will play host to stories from across the Third Universe and beyond — prepare for adventure, mystery, and weird alien shit! 

Featuring the activities of a wide range of characters across several different series, the website shall emerge with six all-new stories and one republished story. 

Founded by Ostara Gale (@a-wartime-paradox), the Cheshire House will feature stories from a wide range of authors, including: Ostara, Elodie Christian (@tvmigraine), Aristide Twain, Theta Mandel (@theangelshavethephonebox), Plum Pudding, Molly Warton (@aquanafrahudy), L. Alves (@drleevezan), Thien Valdram (@thienvaldram), Ryan Fogarty, Xavier Llewellyn, and more!

Above is a digital artwork of Abraytha, the Unbound Scavenger, drawn by the fabulous Holly!

And here is the cover for 'A World of Pure Unimagination', drawn by the awesome Aristide!

Our first seven stories...

The First Metamorphosis is a story of The Interstellar Sleuth, written by Elodie Christian and edited by Ostara Gale & Aristide Twain. The story follows an amnesiac patient’s attempt to escape the terrible Happiness Facility, with their only real clue to their identity a mysterious lottery ticket…

The Carnage of Urmafrae features Lotto and Mae as they investigate the disappearance of a village which has never existed, and learn to live with the consequences… The third story of The Interstellar Sleuth, this story was written by Ostara Gale and edited by Theta Mandel & Aristide Twain.

A Collision of Ships marks a crossover between The Castaways of Ishiok and Zadellin, written by Ostara Gale and edited by Theta Mandel & Aristide Twain. A multiversal traveller and three Archons run into each other —  literally. Their Ships collide. Unsurprisingly, tensions rise as they try to fix their respective Higher Dimensional Ships so they can continue on their adventures.

A Visit from Everywhere is a crossover story between The Castaways of Ishiok and the worlds of Jenny Everywhere, written by Ostara Gale and edited by Theta Mandel & Aristide Twain. When Jenny turns up in Katioka, Abraytha and Xiantio attempt to take her home.

My Name is SAM is a standalone sci-fi short story, penned by Elodie Christian and edited by Ostara Gale. SAM, a true AI based on Mars, sends a letter home. AI should not have a home, but SAM has memories that would beg to differ…

A World of Pure Unimagination by Xavier Llewellyn and edited by Aristide Twain follows Jenny Everywhere and her colossal chocolate craving. On the search for sweets, she finds an infamously awful Chocolate Factory knock-off. But is there something going on that’s more sinister than a simple scam? Jenny won’t leave without answers.

The Cathedral of Winter was originally published in The Book of the Snowstorm, and is Abraytha’s first story. Written by Ostara Gale and edited by Aristide Twain, this story is now available for free digitally in order to make the Unbound Scavenger’s story complete.

You can find us here on Tumblr, and also at CheshireHouseStories on Instagram, as well as Cheshire_House on X/Twitter. You can turn on notifications for this blog to always be notified when a major update occurs, or when new stories are released. We hope you enjoy our stories… Now, get to reading!

[thienvaldram]

The Book of the Snowstorm – Readthrough/Review Part 7

Framing Story (Scenes 16-18)

Did that just imply… Urizen was God. Like the ‘God’ mentioned by the Toymaker in the Giggle was actually Urizen (and thus Rassilon)? Also a Church on Ruby Road reference with the goblin. I like Rich’s little section, and in general I’m curious as to how the events in the 925 Universe tie to the Snowstorm in the library and how the mysterious-99-per-cent-sure-he’s-not-Auteur stranger factors into it, if they do at all.

The God Who Came For Christmas

Hello again FASA War Chief. The glimpse into the Archon’s perception of one another was fascinating and I think I get what it’s trying to do. Imply the FASA War Chief is a Self-Hypnotised Master trying to disguise. Either way, fun little piece even if (IIRC) it’s a sequel to a DW RPG story that I have not seen.

Presents

Interesting piece. The Fantastic Realm is an interesting setting and I like the use of comic book terminology alongside more DWEU concepts. As well as the general exploration of the infinitely variable constantly resetting characters of comic books. Captain America, or well… Captain Yank, was a good choice of character for that IMO and I appreciated the references to other suspiciously similar substitutes for Marvel’s other cast members.

The Cathedral of Winter

Ok so first of all, Abraytha is really fun, and I appreciate his general upbeat demeanour and sense of adventure and fun. Also his aesthetic is cool. The Archons of Winter were really funny, and have similarly funny implications for their temporal counterparts (In that a Multiversal visitor with the appropriate equipment could in theory bypass their defences almost as easily as Abraytha did to the Archons of Winter). The cultural differences between Xiantio and Abraytha were also really fun. Aesthetic was great too, just the general winter theming. (Also Lotto cameo?????)

[a-wartime-paradox]

Ah, so basically /'kaʊlfɪa/…? With 'Jayness' I was thinking about how to pronounce 'Janus' in Abraytha's full name… And yeah, thanks for that too! I hadn't even considered that 'Abraytha' could have a /ð/ and not a /θ/ in it. Katioka is something like /kətɪ'oʊkə/, right? …I'm unsure if that first vowel's more /kæ/ or /ke͡ɪ/, and if the third is /ɔ/ or /oʊ/. And is 'Yophese' closer to /'jɔfi:z/ or /jɔ'fezɪ/, or /jɔ'fizɪ/ or even /'jɔfsi/? Sorry if this seems absurdly pedantic, but it doesn't hurt to check… Wonderful stories, by the way!

Yeah

Ah! Right, of course. Janus is /dʒənʊs/ (phonetic, at least to me)

Oh no, I hadn't noticed there was three different "th" sounds in IPA. You were correct, the "th" should be θ and not the other one; it's the "th" in "thigh", not in "thy". (those words are almost homophones to me)

Katioka is /kætaɪoʊkə/. Long i, not short. Possibly a /j/ like in sky, but not the "i" in kit.

Yophese is /jɒ'fiːz/

And don't worry about asking questions, I'm always happy to help :)

Thank you for your kind words !

[a-wartime-paradox]

Interesting! Killer plots are always interesting, love a a good Agatha Christie

Aww, romance <3

He sounds friendly!

As for my OCs, I have a lot, but here's a few (feel free to ask about them individually)

Xiantio and Abraytha: two OCs caught in the midsts of a War between winged time foxes and some stuck-up old "editors of reality"

Vivien and Loki, a human and posthuman (biological catboy, actually) couple. Both go on time adventures with their guide Johnathan McColl (brother of Abraytha) before bad shit happens and.. well, spoilers. I can tell you them if you want, tho

Alice and the Mad Household. Yes, this is the one from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (except this time he's trans and slays the Jabberwock and does anarchy)

Who's your favourite OC?

still a huge fan of Mercer <3 but Dupre and Noah are close runners up!

[a-writable-paradox]

Goodbye, Xiantio... [Short Story]

We were just sitting on a rock in the Fimbletrex Forests holding hands and facing the Red Mountains.

Five miles due south, a soldier reached into her satchel pulled out a bullet, with the a symbol showing two circles intersecting with an eight-sided cross in the intersection. The symbol of Capatia. Due to the gieakronian's unique nature - that they could not die until 1000, at which point they immediately did - the Capital had to design a special bullet that accelerated the growth of its victim, although only temporarily. If the bullet was removed before and the victim made to not bleed out, it sent them to age 1000, their body would regress back to what age it had been before impact, as was the nature of the gieakronian gift/curse.

Five miles due south, the end of Xiantio's world escaped the barrel, pushing through the atmosphere of Gieakron, and making it towards the target. The Blue Fields zoomed on by; the bullet did not hit a single blade of grass.

100 metres, and Xiantio reached out his hand towards my face.

50 metres, and my face is facing his, eye to eye.

25 metres, and he moves his face toward mine, cupping my head in his hands.

10 metres, and our lips touch, if only for a second.

5 metres, and contact is made. Ecstasy runs through my veins, as paradise builds itself here, on this ground. Heaven on earth.

2 metres, and we are oblivious.

1 metre, and Xiantio jerks his head slightly, feeling something shooting towards him, but it is too late.

0 metres, and the bullet has pierced Xiantio's skull. 0 metres, and the forests on Xiantio's head have exploded into a fire, sending sparks into the stratosphere. 0 metres, and the smile on Xiantio's face, which always lit up my day, fell just as she fell down behind the log she was sitting on into the bracken below.

------------------

Five years earlier- before the War had begun and the Second Imperealis ascended - me, Xiantio, and Kraster were sitting in the same location. The sun, which our village called Zi'tia, was blossoming in the rich green and blue sky, baking the trees of Fimbletrex in beautiful orange fire. The wind ran through the woods, exciting all the little nebouri* and making them turn their small heads to look up for oncoming gryfosks**. Standing there, watching Xiantio fall, I could think of nothing I wanted more than to return to that life. A life of exams, of research, and of peaceful adventure. A world without fascist leaders, even if they were not perfect. A world with no war, and little violence. To me now, that world of yesteryear felt like a utopia, but to me then it just felt normal. You know what they say, you don't know what you have until you loose it.

*(pronounced neb-or-ee) a squirrel-like creatures with colours that reflect that of a nebula, and who's tail extends into the fourth dimension to allow very exact grip

**(pronounced gr-eye-fosks) a small fox-like creature, with vastly varying colours (predominantly blue or red) and wings. They hunt nebouri

Another time, I'm not sure if it was before or after the previous scene, or even if it matters. Xiantio was playing with my hair, stroking it gently and getting out his brush whenever she encountered a knot, which was embarrassingly often. Her hand reached down over my shoulder and rested atop my chest. A warm feeling, call it love, pushed itself through me, burning me. And the fire burnt away the memory to reveal, on the floor, Xiantio. My emotion-induced paralysis faded away, and the adrenaline kicked in. Save Xiantio. Save Xiantio. Save Xiantio.

I turned Xiantio over on the forest floor so that the wound was exposed to the air. Gross and pus-oozing, the cut reminded me of of the one corpse I had seen in my life, of my uncle Rava'thorn who had died at the natural age of 1000, but fell of a cliff in the process. I looked back on the minor medical training we had all been taught at the Academy, and put one leg on each side of Xiantio's body, and moved my chest down towards his head, placing my shirt firmly down upon the cut. My shoes were soaked in his blood, which was cascading down from the cut like the many tributaries of a river. I knew what this bullet was for it to have harmed him, and I knew how to remove it. Reaching down, I picked up one of the many flintstones from the floor and risked it all. I took the flintstone and brought it down underneath the bullet, hacking away at it. I knew this would release more blood, but without it he'd just keep on degrading and die. So I pushed and pushed the flintstone, which in turn pushed the bullet up like a see-saw. Push, and blood and pus eek out of the cut. Push, and the bullet gets closer to the surface. Push, and veins and arteries break, spilling open new sources for this bloody river. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the bullet rose above the cut, and I pulled it out, throwing it away. Without stopping for breath, I took of my shirt, crumpled it up, and placed it over the source of the bloodbath. Applying all of my weight into my hands and over the fabric, I held still, watching the blood continue to trickle slowly out of the wound. After some time, the bloodstream slowed down, but by this time his face had lost all resemblance of life. I wasn't even sure if he had survived, but I pressed on.

After fifty seven presses, the blood was just slowly trickling down.

Fifty nine, sixty. No blood.

------------

Now, I understand at this point you may be confused. I've just been pressing hard onto somebody's skull, that's gonna do damage. And you'd be right, if us gieakronians were mortal. But we're not. As long as we're not 1,000 years old (which the bullet can induce, along with failing the regenerative process) we can always regenerate, or "heal" from wounds. So the mission here was to stop the bloodgushing and remove the bullet, everything else would fix itself.

-----------

But this was not the end. He could still have died minutes earlier. So I picked up his arm, still positioned over him, and put my forefinger to the vein next to his hand, on the underside, and the heavens opened, celestial glories enveloping me along with the transparent bullets of water from the sky. But these bullets wouldn't harm us. At first I thought it: I've got a pulse . Then I whispered it: "I've got a pulse". And in case the universe was playing a sly trick on me, I screamed it above the treetops: "IVE GOT A PULSE!". I jumped up and down, dancing around and, throwing my arms about. The crusty look that I hadn't even notice develop all over Xiantio's skin faded away as the wound closed itself up, and Xiantio stirred. Almost immediately I was at his side, and as soon as he could look up at me he smiled, and pulled me into a kiss, murmuring "where were we?"

[a-writable-paradox]

Hidden Injury [Short Story]

Hidden Injury, This is a repost from a while back, because I lost the original post, but found the text in an email

"Abraytha!" I heard someone call my name, far ahead. The resistance. We must continue. If we don't fight with everything we have, we will never have fought, and it will all have been for nothing. We stop for nightfall under a cronewise tree, brown leaves blocking out the nebulous Metaphysical barrier in the heavens. Slumping down next to the tree, I feel a sharp pang of pain through my leg, but ignore it. This is War after all, things are always hurting.

As the sun rose over the Red Mountains, carrying the night away on its back, we rose with it, trudging on tall grass. The pain began as a subtle twist in my left leg, slowly growing, and my memories twisted…

On the second day, we made it 9 miles towards the Capital. We had to move slowly in order to avoid being detected by the many Capital spies and subsequently getting erased from reality. You may notice that I have no mentioned the names, or even features, of any of my companions. I wish I could, but when I look back on these events, I am there with no others, yet not alone. So I know I was accompanied, but I also know that every one of my accomplices, however many - it could be anywhere from one to one thousand, - were erased by capital forces. Perhaps I am not special, perhaps I was just lucky. Or perhaps I am a pawn in some larger game; I cannot know.

On the third day, we made it 8 and a quarter miles. At one point we walked through the Fimbletrex Forests, and I remembered playing with sticks and stones with my dear brother and friend Johnathan McColl. We would take stones and pile them up, creating little make-believe worlds for our make-believe people. But now I don't know what is and isn't make-believe, or even what that means. On some days I look back on those beautiful nights and see only pestilence, as xartaths (zar-thas) descend upon us, eating us both alive. This couldn't have happened, though, could it? I'm still here, aren't I?

On the fourth day, we fought off the xarthas, but one bit into my leg, and burrowed deep down. As if nothing had happened, the xarthas ceased to be and Johnathan was giggling excitedly, telling me how he'd made a castle out of rocks and extended the turrets into the fourth dimension. I sighed, just another day. But what about the xar-

On the fifth day, I saw in the distance a swarm of xarthas, circling around something, presumably some kind of temporal corpse. Thats what they feed on, xarthas. The echo of being removed from the Metaphysic, their last essence. I wonder if it was a member of my team who now never existed…

On the sixth day, I was back at the Academy, learning about Dimensional Evolution. Xiantio (z'eye-an-tea-oh), a childhood friend, was talking to me. I felt I should be here, but also felt I shouldn't, somehow. It was all very confusing. Yes, this memory... experience... was exactly how I remembered... it's happening now, isn't it?...

CrAsH, the xarthas had broken through the glass windows. Students were running around, screaming, as they were picked up and seemingly erased from existence. I held onto Xiantio's hand, and both of us ran down the corridor, jumping down flights of stairs. Neither of us know what's going on - well, I think I have some weird memories and recollections, but I'm not sure - but we know that we need each other, so we hold on and persevere. We make it out of the Rostrand Academy and as far as the ends of the Blue Fields before we need to stop to rest. The sky is clouding over with purple, gold, and green fractals whilst more and more xarthas appear, looking for survivers, and then I realised. We both did. Why xarthas come, what their looking for, and why they leave. When someone is removed from the Metaphysic, for one reason or another, all of their positions in the pan-reality become susceptible to corruption. For any normal being, this isn't an issue, but for people of the Metaphysic it can cause irreparable damage as previously almost no corruption was possible, so it all comes falling down at once. This, combined with the fact that the xarthas are natives our planet, Gieakron, but they were expelled from the Metaphysic, meaning they feed on all beings outside of its domain but on the planet extensively.

All of this together meant that someone here wasn't meant to exist anymore. And I had a feeling it was me. I tried to persuade Xiantio into letting me sacrifice myself to the xarthas, but she would not let in. She said that I could not possibly be the heart of the storm, but refused to explain why or how. It is only now, now that I am in this space of nontime, writing this, that I realize she may have loved me too much. For the next hour we tried to stay hidden, but soon enough a xartha swooped down and grabbed Xiantio, but as she rose heavenwards, she grabbed onto my leg and it came right off.

I don't remember anything else after this, I don't even know if that reality continued existing or not.

On the first day, I trudged through the wilderness with Xiantio, Lavender Myst, Krastar, and many others, towards the Capital and towards Revolution.

[thecheshirehouse]

Four incredible new stories!

From the worlds of The Interstellar Sleuth, The Castaways of Ishiok, and Disparate Minds, The Cheshire House is delighted to show you four incredible new stories!

A drawing of Abraytha, Xiantio, and Yahed (a character original to this batch), by the excellent Plum Pudding!

The Tall Dark Spire at the Edge of the Not-Sky is the next instalment in The Castaways of Ishiok, penned by Ostara Gale (@a-wartime-paradox) with help from Ryan Fogarty, and edited by Aristide Twain (@aristidetwain). The story follows Xiantio and Abraytha as they attempt to uncover the truth about the Deus Initiative.

Above is an illustration for Island on the Edge of Eternity - Part Two, with the background by Kevin (@fire_fly_flare) and the foreground by Matilda Duncan!

Island on the Edge of Eternity - Part Two is the eagerly-awaited second part of Island on the Edge of Eternity, after the release of Part One in our previous regular batch. This story is in the series The Interstellar Sleuth, and was written by Thien Valdram, before being edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. As the bodies begin piling up, Rhyz’ir deals with Nzhi’ax’s betrayal, and must decide whether being believed is worth losing someone they once called a friend.

This is the wonderful cover of the third Disparate Minds story, ‘Deadspace’, and was created by series originator Plum Pudding!

Deadspace is the third instalment in the Disparate Minds series, written by Plum Pudding and edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. This story follows Serena as she and Avenue face the uncomfortable arrival of strange people who aren’t quite human. Serena finds everything she’s ever known turned upside-down as the not-people’s artificial presence begins to spread…

Another lovely cover from Plum Pudding, this time for the fourth Disparate Minds story, ‘Pitcher’!

Pitcher is the fourth instalment in the Disparate Minds series, written by Plum Pudding and edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. We see June, lying on the road. She really thought she could do it this time — escape Avenue. Is that even possible? Has she done it? And, if she has, where can she go?

You can find us at CheshireHouseStories on Instagram, as well as Cheshire_House on X/Twitter.

[thecheshirehouse]

Three brilliant new stories!

The Cheshire House is proud to present three brilliant new stories!

This is the cover of the first Disparate Minds story, Analog, created by the fabulous Plum Pudding!

A drawing of June, a character in Disparate Minds, standing in a motel room, unsure of how she got here. Also drawn by Plum!

From the worlds of The Interstellar Sleuth, The Castaways of Ishiok, and a brand new series, Disparate Minds, we introduce…

Island on the Edge of Eternity, which is Thien Valdram’s first story for The Cheshire House, and is edited by Ostara Gale (@a-wartime-paradox) and Aristide Twain (@aristidetwain). A The Interstellar Sleuth story, this tale follows two scientists as they argue over the Universe’s genesis, the discourse echoing the pain of their lost friendship. Rhyz’ir’s side of this debate, an out-there theory about some ‘Big Bang’, has long been dismissed as unsubstantiated nonsense, but all this may be about to change as they meet a shockingly cognisant creature who can confirm all their suspicions. Stay tuned for part two of this story…

Misadventures in the Interdimensional Scrapyard is L. Alves’s (@drleevezan) first foray into The Cheshire House, and is edited by Aristide Twain & Ostara Gale. A The Castaways of Ishiok story, Abraytha and Xiantio arrive in a desolate scrapyard, only to quickly become stranded. Xiantio wants nothing more than to leave, but Abraytha seems to be in no rush to reacquire their transport. Can the pair reconcile their differences in time, or will they become trapped in the Interdimensional Scrapyard forever?

Analog is the first story in Plum Pudding’s marvellous new series, Disparate Minds, which is a black comedy taking place in a middle-of-nowhere town called Avenue. Written by Plum Pudding and edited by Ostara Gale, Theta Mandel (@theangelshavethephonebox), and Aristide Twain, Analog follows June, who has woken up in a motel room. She is hearing things. She may be going mad. She is trapped in the motel room. She cannot leave the motel room. She has left the motel room. Trapped in still waters of dead concrete and lurking things, she will have to find herself in the dark. In more ways than one.

You can find us at CheshireHouseStories on Instagram, as well as Cheshire_House on X/Twitter.

[thecheshirehouse]

I'm Dreaming of a Cheshire Easter

by Molly Warton

The Cheshire Cat grinned an inane kind of a grin. He had a large variety of grins, which he would use on various special occasions, and this was a particularly inane sort of a grin, for he had Guests. He was spread on a sort of regal russian rug, carefully embroidered with all sorts of different patterns zig-zagging across each other, arguing over which one ought to be on the top, and this had been thrown carelessly upon a windowsill that looked for all the world like it was trying to escape into the spring-time country outside. The lambs gambolled in the fields, as lambs are apt to do; the daffodils swayed in the fields, as daffodils are apt to do; and the politicians walked around kicking puppies in the fields, as politicians are apt to do. 

The Cheshire Cat sat on a Cheshire Rug in his Cheshire House dreaming Cheshire dreams of days long past — and feeling very grateful that he wasn’t the Merseyside Cat, as Cheshire was a much better name. He suddenly remembered about the Guest, and grinned a little wider — in a vapid sort of manner, that being how he grinned. 

“Hello,” you said, poking your head round the Cheshire Door and looking into the Cheshire House, “I don’t suppose you have such a thing as a story about you, by any chance?”

When he saw you arrive, he frisked his tail in such a very frisky sort of a manner that you thought it a most frisky tail indeed. “Well,” said the Cat, “I may well do, but then again, I may not. You never can tell with stories. Except, of course, when you can.” 

By this point, of course, you were feeling a little confused, and said so. 

“Oh dear,” you said, “I’m feeling a little confused.” 

“There’s no need to repeat yourself,” said the Cat, good-naturedly. 

“But I didn’t repeat myself!” you said, rather indignantly. 

“Indeed you did,” said the Cat, “Once in your head, and once out loud.”

“But if I didn’t say it out loud,” you said, “you wouldn’t know what I had said.” 

“Ah,” said the Cat, “but if you only said it out loud, then I should.” 

Well, you weren’t quite sure what to say to that, so you said:

“How about that story?” 

“How about that story?” asked the Cat. 

“Well, would you very kindly mind telling it?” 

“There are many stories,” said the Cat enigmatically, “within my Cheshire House. Won’t you come in and see?” So you did. You came in, and you looked, and you saw, and there were all the stories, hanging there suspended in space like brilliant, glittering jewels, shining, sparkling in the morning light, and in you came, you weary traveller from parts unknown, and you took the chocolate egg that the Cat had very kindly passed you, and the stories you saw! Stories of Archons and Abraytha and Everywhere, of Lotto and Lords and Luca, of SAM and Shamblers and Zadellin, of worlds beyond your wildest dreams, and in you went, into a whole new world of adventure.

And the Cheshire Cat faded away behind you just as if he had never been there.

The Shamblers from the Stars were created by Robert Bloch and are now in the public domain.

The Cheshire Cat was created by Lewis Carroll and is now in the public domain.

Lotto, Luca, SAM © Elodie Christian

Abraytha Janus Colefia © Ostara Gale

The Zadellin crew © Theta Mandel

Archons © Aristide Twain

[a-wartime-paradox]

Hello. Important question: Is it /ʃ/iantio or /ks/iantio? Or /z/iantio? /'d͡ʒɑ:nəs/ or /'d͡ʒe͡ɪnəs/, and does it really start with /d͡ʒ/? I assume Colefia is /ko'lefɪa/, but in case it's /'koʊlfɪa/, I'd like to know too…

Xiantio is possibly /z/iantio, although the way you've written that is ambiguous.Its not /zɪ/antio, but rather /zaɪ/antio. In full, /zaɪəntjiːoʊ/ (I think, I'm new to IPA)

As for the second one... that IPA parses as "Jayness" (very roughly), which I don't recall naming anything.

Abraytha is /əbreɪðʊ/ (or /ə/ at the end, that's just my accent turning it into an 'uh') if that's somehow what you were asking

Colefia is closer to /'koʊlfɪa/ than /ko'lefɪa/, but it's more like Cowl'fia. Not sure how to represent 'owl' in IPA.

[a-wartime-paradox]

[Whumptober Day 9] Foggy Memories

Prompt: Tossing and Turning

Word count: 2k (I'll try and keep them shorter from now on I think)

-- Narrator is Xiantio fist --

I tossed and turned, and then lay down on my back. I could see the stars, and I could see their eternal beauty. The constellations of Zeus, Urion, and Avathorn took up skyward vision. Over to my right lay Lavender, and to my left Zachariah.

I got up from the hard forest floor - we weren't in Fimbletrex anymore, but in Greenstone - and walked over to the edge of the cliff, and sat down. Far down the edge of the mountain, past Fimbletrex Forest, I could see a ruined building. The building in which I grew up and learnt our history - or rather, the history the Capital wanted us to believe. The building the resistance - or a branch of it - started in, lead by Excellynia Croft. And the building the some terrorist Imperealis-sympathisers bombed in the 9th year of the War. I could still see the sycamore in the gardens where me and Xiantio used to lie together, telling each other stories of our lives. But we can't do that now. That's why I can't sleep today. She's gone now, they took her.

---

Three days prior, me and Abraytha were sleeping together under the trees of Retrex, next to the Red Mountains and Fimbletrex Forest, when a capital guard fell down from the sky, his black and purple armour glistening in the starlight of a myriad never-worlds. The guard moved swiftly and silently along the forest floor, burning every finely crafted leaf into a thousand pieces of ash and ember. This angel of death, this Apollyn, stood over us, and they knelt. Then they touched Abraytha on the head, and both of them were gone. I immediately felt it, the cold brought on by the sudden removal of his warmth, and I stood up. Shaking all over, I looked around, but could not see him anywhere. I called out to Zachariah, who was camping with me, and he helped look. When we started the sky was black, but by the time we had finished, the orange chariot of dawn had already risen over the hilltops. I lay down and cried, bawling my eyes out for I had lost my last connection to my life before the War, and my lover.

---

They could be doing anything with him, even bending and twisting his timestream. Oh, Ouroboros! I forgot about that! They could change his life so that he never met me, and then-

---

I walked back to camp to see my best friend Zachariah, and new comrade Lavender, lying on the floor. I joined them. Closing my eyes, I expected to call asleep quickly. But there was a thought nagging in the back of my head that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and it kept me tossing and turning all night until the sun rose and we began our walk towards the Red Plains. But I couldn't drop the feeling I was forgetting something, not when Zachariah talked to me about someone he loved he was meeting by the shores of Rostrand, beyond the Red Plains and the Tashrun Marshes, in fact I found myself shedding tears of sadness, but I could not understand why. I could not drop the thought when Lavender told me of all the wild things she had got up to previously to meeting us in the Betweenlands. Not even when I sat down to make us all lunch, boiling rock-potatoes over the fire, and serving with sweet leaves. After a while longer, when I had my head leaning on Zachariah's shoulder whilst we walked, Zachariah asked me what was wrong. I didn't know how to explain it, because even I did not know, so I just said I was tired.

--Switch to Abraytha's perspective-

I awoke in a cold sweat, lights glaring. I was in a room... No. I was in a white bed, in a black void, which had white light shining in from distant points. There was nothing around me, as far as I could see. As the lights faded I remembered my life. I was with a boy... A resistance... I loved....

A purple mist permeates the void in which Abraytha slept, covering everything

I awoke in a cold sweat, eyes dazzled by... Something. I slowly began to remember who I was. I was a member of the capital guard. A boy, I loved...

A purple mist permeates the void in which Abraytha slept, covering everything

I awoke in a cold sweat, and sat upright. There was a strange feeling of déjà vu, as if this had happened before, but I quickly dismissed it. I was a capital guard, and I must begin my journey.

I walk out of the black room I was in, and into a seemingly endless corridor. I know my way around, but can't recall learning. Actually, when I think about it for about 20 seconds, I do remember a coach teaching me all the ways around this complex. What was I doing? Oh yeah. I need to get to Convergence Room to do... A thing. Yes. A thing. Seeing an elevator ten metres away, I walked towards it and get in, pressing the button labeled "0". I arrived in a hallway resembling an ordinary business hallway in all ways except one. It was white, all over. Every single inch of the walls, floor, and roof were totally devoid of any individualism that defined life. If you'd ask me if there were windows, I'd say yes, although I could not describe them or what was through them. Just like the windows, I feel like there were people but have no idea who or how many or how they looked. No one questioned me.. why would they, I'm following capital orders, am I not? I'm confused...

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

That night I slept alone. I have all my life, since I stopped sleeping with my mother when I was a small child, but for some reason I feel like there was a body missing from my side. He smelt of nature, adventure, and of familiarity. I would rest my nose into his shoulder every night and take in his scent with one big sniff before resting down for the night against him - No he didn't. Because he doesn't exist?? What am I on. Sleep, that's what I need. So I slept. Or at least tried to, because that nagging feeling of loss would just not disappear. Early in the morning a while before the sun had begun to rise, I woke up and decided to get up and take a small walk, to see if that would help. So I picked up my torch and wrote a small note on some paper and placed it next to the fire for Lavender and Zachariah, and made my way toward the cliff edge. The leaves crunched underneath my bare feet; I heard a krodeav* twit-tweroo'ing. I sat down, legs dangling over the gorge. A solitary tear trickled down my cheek, made its way down my body, and fell off, falling down and hitting a cliff-bound twig; it sagged and let the tear drop down through the gorge until it collided with the still lake at the bottom, and made a wave explode across the entire surface, turning over a leaf that had been stood still for over a month.

*a native flying bird of Gieakron which roughly resembled the earth bird "crow", although also sometimes twit-tweroo'ed like an owl, and flocked around gieakronians about to suffer a temporary "fatality", particularly when they reached 100 and were considered "adult"

I had been fixated on the pool so hard, that when a hand touched my shoulder I almost jumped off the cliff, but he managed to catch me, and got all flustered. Then when I was back to safety, I was confused as to why that was, as I'd never met this person before in my life. Or had I...? He smiled at me, and we sat down together on the cliff. I asked him who he was, and he just smiled, patting my hand (which peculiarly I rather enjoyed). We spent a long time, until the sun rose, talking to each other, and I started to remember who he was. His name was Abby, or Jasmine, or something like that. But then the sun rose, and he said he needed to leave, so I left also and went back to sleep for a couple more hours.

When I awoke, I felt slightly more tired then usual, which was weird because I did not remember getting up during the night or anything.

-- Switch to Abraytha's perspective --

I found the door, and I opened it, white light enveloping me as I looked into infinite alternity. Stepping forward, the door behind me closed, and I glided closer to the Convergence. I reached one hand out and spread my fingers, touching the light...

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

In the next day, we made it to the Red Plains and set up camp in the edge of a clearing with a sycamore tree. As soon was my head hit the makeshift pillow I felt myself fall into a dreamscape of wild memories, before resurfacing after what felt like no time. But it must have been hours, because the sky no longer resembled an artist's brush of orange paints, but rather the ink of a spilled fountain pen. I made my way towards the sycamore, with a feeling of expectation that I couldn't quite pin down. After sitting with my back up against the tree for a couple of minutes, I saw him walk towards me.

"Help me, Xiantio" he said, his voice raspy and hardly audible.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, but even as I did I felt that I knew why. He knew me, and perhaps even I knew him.

"Please.", his voice sounded scared, and he sat down next to me. I welcomed him into an embrace, and he warmly excepted. I felt myself sinking my head into his rough shirt, and taking in his scent. This felt totally normal, almost a natural reflex, but I had never touched him before now. We stayed lying together, telling each other stories of our lives: me of my travels with Lavender and Zachariah, and him of his life working for the Capital. This facet of his life shocked me, but I felt no repulsion. Sometimes, though, we'd find ourselves telling the same story about both of us together as children. As this continued I felt even more strongly that I knew who he was, and in fact had almost solidified his name: Abraytha. It was around this time that I remembered the affairs of last night. Along with this continuation of memory came a wave of sadness and joy; emotions I could not figure out in this moment.

In the following days we met every night, with me always forgetting during the day but remembering more and more by night.

-- Switch to Abraytha's perspective --

And I stepped into the light...

And I saw him. Next to the cliff, by the sycamore tree, as children in the schoolyard. And I saw him, not the one I learnt had been my boyfriend in another life, but that other life itself. An alternate version of myself, locked away within the confines of the Metaphysic. I was not that boy, but that boy was greater than I could ever be. I tried to reach out to him, pull him toward me, but I couldn't reach. No matter how far I went, or how outstretched I hung my arm, he was always just out of reach. So I looked down and saw the one he - I, whatever- loved so dearly. So I delved into those spaces and I met with the boy - Xiantio - and I felt the other me surface more and more. It was scary, because I was loosing who I had known to be me my whole life, but it felt good because this boy found so much happiness in this other me. But every morning when the sun rose I felt myself disappearing back into the ether of that Convergence Room, so I excused myself.

Eventually I saw on the other side of that room not the boyfriend of Xiantio, but the capital guard. For I know was the boyfriend, and I was never taken by the capital. And as I wasn't taken - but kind of was, it's complicated - I could return through the floor of the convergence even in daylight. And that I did, and me and Xiantio lay in the grass until the sun set.

-- Switch to Xiantio's perspective --

That night I didn't sleep at all. But it wasn't because I felt like something was missing, but rather because I had found that very thing once more.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Thank you for reading my short story. Unless I change my mind, this one will be the last (for now) to feature Xiantio and Abraytha. The next should feature Rangda and Demayl - demonic and trans gay anarchists, respectively.

Mentions (request): @bookish-galaxy

Whumptober: @whumptober

[a-wartime-paradox]

[Whumptober Day 6] Goodbye, Xiantio....

October 6th 2022: "I've got a pulse"

Personal submission number: 2

About: Gieakronian Civil War

Word count: 1168

Triggers: death, blood, war, pus, cut, gun

Xiantio is occasionally referred to as "she" in this story. This is intentionally and to remind the reader of the gender-queerness of his character. The previous short story, Hidden Injury, exclusively used she/her.

We were just sitting on a rock in the Fimbletrex Forests holding hands and facing the Red Mountains.

Five miles due south, a soldier reached into her satchel pulled out a bullet, with the a symbol showing two circles intersecting with an eight-sided cross in the intersection. The symbol of Capatia. Due to the gieakronian's unique nature - that they could not die until 1000, at which point they immediately did - the Capital had to design a special bullet that accelerated the growth of its victim, although only temporarily. If the bullet was removed before and the victim made to not bleed out, it sent them to age 1000, their body would regress back to what age it had been before impact, as was the nature of the gieakronian gift/curse.

Five miles due south, the end of Xiantio's world escaped the barrel, pushing through the atmosphere of Gieakron, and making it towards the target. The Blue Fields zoomed on by; the bullet did not hit a single blade of grass.

100 metres, and Xiantio reached out his hand towards my face.

50 metres, and my face is facing his, eye to eye.

25 metres, and he moves his face toward mine, cupping my head in his hands.

10 metres, and our lips touch, if only for a second.

5 metres, and contact is made. Ecstasy runs through my veins, as paradise builds itself here, on this ground. Heaven on earth.

2 metres, and we are oblivious.

1 metre, and Xiantio jerks his head slightly, feeling something shooting towards him, but it is too late.

0 metres, and the bullet has pierced Xiantio's skull. 0 metres, and the forests on Xiantio's head have exploded into a fire, sending sparks into the stratosphere. 0 metres, and the smile on Xiantio's face, which always lit up my day, fell just as she fell down behind the log she was sitting on into the bracken below.

•

Five years earlier- before the War had begun and the Second Imperealis ascended - me, Xiantio, and Kraster were sitting in the same location. The sun, which our village called Zi'tia, was blossoming in the rich green and blue sky, baking the trees of Fimbletrex in beautiful orange fire. The wind ran through the woods, exciting all the little nebouri* and making them turn their small heads to look up for oncoming gryfosks**. Standing there, watching Xiantio fall, I could think of nothing I wanted more than to return to that life. A life of exams, of research, and of peaceful adventure. A world without fascist leaders, even if they were not perfect. A world with no war, and little violence. To me now, that world of yesteryear felt like a utopia, but to me then it just felt normal. You know what they say, you don't know what you have until you loose it.

*(pronounced neb-or-ee) a squirrel-like creatures with colours that reflect that of a nebula, and who's tail extends into the fourth dimension to allow very exact grip

**(pronounced gr-eye-fosks) a small fox-like creature, with vastly varying colours (predominantly blue or red) and wings. They hunt nebouri

Another time, I'm not sure if it was before or after the previous scene, or even if it matters. Xiantio was playing with my hair, stroking it gently and getting out his brush whenever she encountered a knot, which was embarrassingly often. Her hand reached down over my shoulder and rested atop my chest. A warm feeling, call it love, pushed itself through me, burning me. And the fire burnt away the memory to reveal, on the floor, Xiantio. My emotion-induced paralysis faded away, and the adrenaline kicked in. Save Xiantio. Save Xiantio. Save Xiantio.

I turned Xiantio over on the forest floor so that the wound was exposed to the air. Gross and pus-oozing, the cut reminded me of of the one corpse I had seen in my life, of my uncle Rava'thorn who had died at the natural age of 1000, but fell of a cliff in the process. I looked back on the minor medical training we had all been taught at the Academy, and put one leg on each side of Xiantio's body, and moved my chest down towards his head, placing my shirt firmly down upon the cut. My shoes were soaked in his blood, which was cascading down from the cut like the many tributaries of a river. I knew what this bullet was for it to have harmed him, and I knew how to remove it. Reaching down, I picked up one of the many flintstones from the floor and risked it all. I took the flintstone and brought it down underneath the bullet, hacking away at it. I knew this would release more blood, but without it he'd just keep on degrading and die. So I pushed and pushed the flintstone, which in turn pushed the bullet up like a see-saw. Push, and blood and pus eek out of the cut. Push, and the bullet gets closer to the surface. Push, and veins and arteries break, spilling open new sources for this bloody river. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the bullet rose above the cut, and I pulled it out, throwing it away. Without stopping for breath, I took of my shirt, crumpled it up, and placed it over the source of the bloodbath. Applying all of my weight into my hands and over the fabric, I held still, watching the blood continue to trickle slowly out of the wound. After some time, the bloodstream slowed down, but by this time his face had lost all resemblance of life. I wasn't even sure if he had survived, but I pressed on.

After fifty seven presses, the blood was just slowly trickling down.

Fifty nine, sixty. No blood.

•

Now, I understand at this point you may be confused. I've just been pressing hard onto somebody's skull, that's gonna do damage. And you'd be right, if us gieakronians were mortal. But we're not. As long as we're not 1,000 years old (which the bullet can induce, along with failing the regenerative process) we can always regenerate, or "heal" from wounds. So the mission here was to stop the bloodgushing and remove the bullet, everything else would fix itself.

•

But this was not the end. He could still have died minutes earlier. So I picked up his arm, still positioned over him, and put my forefinger to the vein next to his hand, on the underside, and the heavens opened, celestial glories enveloping me along with the transparent bullets of water from the sky. But these bullets wouldn't harm us. At first I thought it: I've got a pulse . Then I whispered it: "I've got a pulse". And in case the universe was playing a sly trick on me, I screamed it above the treetops: "IVE GOT A PULSE!". I jumped up and down, dancing around and, throwing my arms about. The crusty look that I hadn't even notice develop all over Xiantio's skin faded away as the wound closed itself up, and Xiantio stirred. Almost immediately I was at his side, and as soon as he could look up at me he smiled, and pulled me into a kiss, murmuring "where were we?"

------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading my short story, and feel free to leave your ideas and responses in the reblogs.

Mentions (request): @bookish-galaxy

Whumptober: @whumptober

[a-wartime-paradox]

[Event] Gieakronian Civil War

This is the event which "Winged Time Foxes vs The Editors of Reality" includes

Relevant Tumblr short stories: Hidden Injury

Main Characters: Jerem Abraytha McColl, Lavender Myst, Civil Remphie, Yothan

The Editors of Reality

These beings, also called the Second Imperealis, are a temporally ascended form of the Gieakronian Government. They can edit any event that happens within the Metaphysic (mainly just Gieakron) including uprisings against them. The only force they cannot manipulate are the grychons and their pocket realities, hence why the rebels hide there or always carry one with them. Notable members include the Warlord Yothan and the Nexus Council.

Winged Time Foxes

The beings this is in reference to are the "grychons" - an ancient mythic race capable of flying through the nodes of reality (including time) and holding a pocket universe around them. They have many forms, including: something resembling a dragon, Gieakronianoid (or humanoid), and a winged fox. Also on this side of the War include rebel gieakronians (who have to hide in the grychon pocket realities to prevent Imperealis erasure) and the krywins (hybrids of grychons and gieakronians). Notable members include Abraytha (Jerem), Lavender Myst, and Civil Remphie.

Outcome

Near-total desolation of the Metaphysic, establishment of Hybrid Republic (Gieakronian, grychon, krywin, and alien representatives), imprisonment of Yothan, death of Civil Remphie.

[a-wartime-paradox]

[OC Introduction] The Timeful Adventurer

All about the variants, identities, and paradoxes of any and all beings connected to Adventurer Jo by timestream!

Basic Info about "main" version

Names: Johnathan, Jo, Jophony, Revoanna, Celesty,

Pronouns: any, but usually referred to with he or they (pre-Jophony); she/her (Jophony)

Age: 500 (The Beauty in a Paradox)

Relevant Stories: The Beauty in a Paradox , Winged Time Foxes vs The Editors of Reality, Time Wives and the Clock-Builders of Traquidia

Early Life

This version of The Timeful Adventurer shall be referred to as "Young Johnny"

On the planet Gieakron (will edit for link when post made, remind me if I forget) there were two Gieakronians on their six hundredth year (out of 1000), Robert McColl and Tressa McColl. These two individuals had up to five children (as that is the biological maximum for Gieakronians), including Johnathan Revoanna McColl ("Young Johnny") and Jerem Abraytha McColl.

Young Johnny grew up with his brother Jerem, playing in the Yellow Forest and Red Mountain near the Rostrand Academy, which they learnt in. It was here, when they were both about 52, that they meant their first aliens/off-worlders/xenos.

On their one hundredth birthdays, Jerem and Johnathan jumped off a cliff, as per Gieakronian ritual, and were reborn. Before this, their body's aged, but after this point (when they looked about 20-30 in human years) their features simply morphed over time.

Years later, Young Johnny wanted to see the bells of creation ring out, as he heard the majestics of the Capital saw through their "ontowarps". However, only the rich could afford to become "ontonaunts" (travellers of reality). So, he stole an Ontowarp. No one really knows how this happened, especially after the Gieakron Civil War (will link) changed the events, but it is generally assumed that the watch he received as a gift from a mysterious traveller as a baby assisted, in some way.

As Adventurer Jo

For many centuries now, Jo travelled the many nodes of time and space, occasionally taking on companions, the first of these being Aisham. In his travels he met the Celestial Librarian, who's name was (unbeknownst to Johnathan) Gabriel Razicos Celesti. Late in this "incarnation" (used in the sense of "forms", not in the sense of doctor who -esque regenerations). Late in his life, he became friends with Vivien Petra (will link) and her friends, including Renwyq Hallowswift, Orhill Shade, Loki Reystead, and Arcane Hallowswift (see The Beauty In A Paradox, a synopsis).

Near the end of this "incarnation", they come across a faction known as the Ourobosians. These cultists worship the very concept of chaos incarnate as messy time, and give Jo a virus that almost removes him from existence. But he just about manages to get away, saves himself and his friends from earlier in the plot, then teams up with a woman who claims to be him in the future. Then, finally, he sits down and appears to die (before he's 1000, which is meant to be impossible for Gieakronians, they live exactly 1000 years).

Martyn Jane

During the time Johnathan and all his friends were captured by the Traquidi, Johnathan's timeline was split, creating Martyn. Martyn was then discovered by the dying Johnathan and the new Jophony.

Jophony Revoanna Celesti, Celesti Mother

Jophony wakes up from the virus, only to find her body totally different, but before she can process this she sees herself from before she met the lady future version of herself, and realises she now is that lady, and so fulfils the role for her past self. Later on she finds a wife, Persephone Revoanna Celesti, and they settle down and have five children (max for Gieakronians, and that gene in dominant). These children are: Gabriel Razicos Celesti (mentioned earlier, time travel shit), Saturn Morgan Celesti, Osira Horakhtay Celesti, Zadkiel Seraphis Celesti, and Freyja Vanir Celesti.

Konathon / Nephily Kona

However, when Jophony was born from Jo's death, so was Kona. Kona joint the ranks of the Ourobosians (the Lost Court of Ouroboros) and meddled with linearity, taking a particular liking to meddling with its alternate self's daughter, Saturn Morgan Celesti.

Civil John

When Jophony met Persephone, she found out that her Ontowarp, named Remphie, held within it a "grychon" - an ancient mythic creature that could fly through time, and either look like a dragon or a winged fox. She immediately released it, and felt disdain for the Gieakronian Elite for effectively enslaving such a majestic creature without their citizens knowledge. The Gieakronian Republic noticed this event (somehow), and it triggered the arrival of the Second Imperealis (this is some complicated Gieakronian History I could get into in a seperately post). The Second Imperealis removed not just Jophony from "the timestream" (in actuality, their version of reality - the Metaphysic -, everyone not within their sphere of ontological influence could still see other versions of history) but the entirety of Adventurer Jo. This divergence created Civil John, a version of Johnathan McColl who never left Gieakron

Civil John eventually got brought into the Imperealis's side of the War, fighting against the grychons, rebel gieakronians, and krywins (hybrids of grychons and gieakronians), including his old brother Abraytha (Jerem). This pathway eventually lead to him becoming the Warlord Yothan, at a point when the War ravaged beyond Gieakron and the Metaphysic was expanding.

Yothan was imprisoned at the end of the War when his grandchild, Lavender Myst (a krywin), became president of the Hybrid Republic.

In total, 5 variants if you count Young Johnny as a separate variant, and 4 if you don't