#and for the first time since meeting them we step beyond the invisible border that we'd previously dared not pass

[dualumina]

To be completely honest they could just yell out while looking all normal water spirity "Hey I'm a water spirit and I'd be so so so happy if you'd let me drown you in my bog 🥺" and you'd never find our body after that

I feel like a lot of you on here would be tricked by a water spirit trying to drown you

[mintvender]

UTOPIA [ 7 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning : Suggestive Content

Word Count: 9.8k

A/n: Finally finished this chapter. This chapter marks the end of the first era where the main ensemble finally unite. However, this is also the start of something else. Tell me what you think, 🌿.

Masterlist

Humming a quiet melody, you felt the air around you stirred. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of the flow around you, patiently waiting for a response. Expectedly, your question was not answered.

Nevertheless, you knew better than to give up your standing and continue to participate in this wordless battle. After all, as a member of the Crimson branch, it would hurt your pride to lose to such a miscellaneous game.

Slowly but surely, the air around you both began to constrict, seemingly trapping you in its borders. However, instead of surrendering to either of your guys’ unmoving selves, none made a move in anything close to failure and instead, waited.

Such a manipulator.

Seconds steadily merge into minutes, and before you know it, you are left with a quarter of an hour before having to head back. Looking at the entrance of the alley, it had seemed that the sun was already setting. Turning around to meet Raven’s eyes, you let out a smirk before pushing yourself off the walls.

“ If you don’t have anything to say then I guess there is no other purpose being here,” you taunted, heading towards the bustling street.

Purposely exaggerating your steps to enhance the sound of your shoes colliding with the floor, you confidently walk the opposite way, not glancing back. However, before you can bathe under the colourful lanterns, an arm slid around yours, pulling you back into the darkness.

Quick to hide your growing smirk, you let yourself be dragged back deep within the alley. Turning around, you look down at the piercing eyes, staring menacingly into your own.

“ Stop joking around,” Raven warned.

“ Answer my question then,” you insisted, “ Why have you called me?”

Even with the mask, you could tell that she was rolling her eyes at your ridiculous question. Reaching into her long sleeve, Raven took out a thin envelope and shoved it into your arms.

“ The Master wanted to give this to you.”

Looking at her knowingly, you flick the tab open, reaching in to get the paper. Pulling the paper out, you motioned her to bring the lantern closer. You both peered through the content of the letter, processing the intentions that have been conveyed. Looking into each others’ eyes, silently having a conversation.

After a while, you both synchronously nodded, agreeing on the best solution.

Standing straight up, you carefully tuck the letter into your inner sleeve. You patted the spot a few times to test its stability as you mindlessly listened to Raven’s plan.

“ You do know that it is better to do it now than later right?”

Stopping what you were doing, you clench your hands repeatedly while staring at the ground. Letting out a tired sigh, you tussled through your hair in frustration, making obvious attempts to ignore her question.

“ You kno—“

“ I know!” You growled, biting your inner cheeks. “ I… need time to adapt to this current life. After that… I will tell them.”

Without looking at her, you could already define her expression of knowingness. Even so, you ignored it, too caught up with your thoughts and forceful emotions.

Letting out a loud sigh, “ Mind joining me for a drink?”

Looking into Raven’s eyes, you could almost spot specks of whites and yellows swirling into her magnificent midnight black orbs. Despite how gorgeous they were, you knew that they held nothing more than pity and sympathy; ones that aimed at you— your decisions specifically.

Once again, you both held eye contact for however long before Raven broke it with a gentle shake of her head. She nodded, quietly accepting your invitation, stepping away from you.

Following her lead, you nodded, tightening your grasp on your own mask, in which you had taken off unconsciously during the discussion.

Fingers running through the surface, you admire each stroke that has been carved into the wood. Unlike Raven’s who was smothered in shades of black and grey, yours was painted in a variety of red and gold. In another way, it showcases the difference between your animal and hers.

Each member of the clan is subjected to form their alias based on their branch and their ones that resonate with them.

For example, your branch— the crimson branch is categorized as a physical branch, people who focus on close combat. As a result, all the members within the branch are named after predators of all kinds, except birds. Raven, who belonged to the Gold branch, specializing in long-distance attacks, are thus named after various avians. With that, the Azures are categorized to different strategic pieces and theories, while the Veridian branch are varieties of poisons, and the Titanium branch, are all the raw materials used for craftsmanship.

Bringing the mask to your face, you quickly fasten it, lifting your hair to hide the knot under it. You started heading out of the alley, Raven following right after you and into the clusters of light.

As you both walked through the noisy crowd, you glanced around at the assorted shades of lanterns that are hanged throughout the district, most in deep, bright shades of red, confirming that you were indeed in the epicentre of the red district.

The red district was a very interesting place that attracts a wide audience— for the many different reasons that are available. Some people come here to do business— both legal and illegally, while some search for companions—for the reasons you won’t go into. Anyways, in your guys’ case, it was the former. Now for whether it’s legal or illegal? You didn’t exactly know.

Along the way, you randomly chose a cozy-looking winery in the depth of the district, one that wasn’t filled with too many lustful people.

This particular winery was unlike many others. Instead of drenching in the odour of alcohol, the winery quickly filled your senses with a delicate and flowery scent. Curiosity hitting you like a brick wall, you glanced around to try and find where the scent was coming from.

“ Welcome, precious guests,” a velvety voice greeted.

Perking your head up at the voice, your head naturally followed the direction. Immediately after looking up, you were faced with a figure adorned in pieces of red. Unexpectedly, the voice owner’s face was beyond any noble ladies in the capital, with a sharp yet captivating gaze, and perfect proportions. To say the least, she was flawless.

Seeing your guys’ silence, the lady let out a smile.

“ Please, follow me,” she said, leading you into a quiet corner, invisible to most people.

You nodded in gratitude, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

“ What would you like?”

Looking contemplated, Raven asked, “ What do you specialize in?”

Eyes sparkling in excitement at Raven’s word, the lady clasped her hand together before clearing her throat, “ Finally! The Silvering Winery specializes in mixed drinks.”

Raising your eyebrow, curious of the reason for her being so excited, you asked, “ Don’t people come here for that since it’s your specialty?”

Reacting to your question, the lady huffed out a sigh, her eyebrows crunching up in frustration. “ Of course not! All we have coming are old, drunken men who know nothing more than jugs of those tasteless alcohol! With our location, even if so hidden, people still manage to find it. No one ever asks for mixed drinks… until now at least.”

You smiled, taking interest in her talk, “ Any recommendations you have?”

Tapping her chin carefully, the lady took her time to think as she scanned over the both of you. “ Mhmm, how about this? I’ll create drinks based on what I get from each of you.”

Raven hummed in agreement while you nodded in interest,“ Please… Mmm...Is there perhaps a name we could possibly address you?”

Plushed lips curling up to a smile, she answered, “ Please call me… Lisa.”

“ Sounds foreign.”

Lisa nodded, “ I’m from the west.”

Smiling at her words, you introduced, “ Please call me Phoenix.”

“ Raven.”

“ Then we’ll be in your care, Lisa.”

Turning around, Lisa headed off to what seemed to be the kitchen, “ Don’t worry, I never disappoint my customers.”

You waited for the retrieving figure to enter the kitchen before setting your eyes back to the decor of the place. The whole venue was covered in wood, planks attached to the floor while chunkier pieces are used to form tables. Smaller pieces of wood are spotted splattered across the walls and the tops of the very many seats. On your guys’ table, a tray sat there, holding a plate of sweets accompanied by two wooden cups, filled to the brim with scorching hot herbal tea.

Reaching over to grab yours, Raven following right after, you both enjoyed the taste of the herbs in silence. Letting the bitter taste coat your skin, you hummed in satisfaction as the warmth spread through your body, seeping into your core.

Unlike your usual mask where it covers your entire face, this one only covered half of it, thus making it much more convenient to use during these situations.

“ It’s been a while since we’ve had a normal conversation.”

Humming in interest, Raven continued to sip her tea.

“ How have you been?”

“ ...I’ve been good. Just the usual stuff, nothing new.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you reach over to grab a piece of sweet.

“ How have you been?”

Biting into the dessert, you munch on it while thinking over the question. “ It’s been hectic. This year has been a little … overwhelming.”

By the perked-up eyebrows, you could tell that she was interested in your wording but seeing how she had no intentions of mentioning it, you also dismissed the minor detail.

“ The Master had given you such a significant mission, it’s no wonder it would be so tiring.”

Tightening your lip to form a small smile, you nodded in agreement, your head bouncing with the force. “ In the beginning, I often wondered why the Master has assigned me to be leading this mission when there are clearly more suitable people than me.”

“ Who?”

Looking down to your own cup, you stared into the reflection of yourself painted on the layer of liquid. “ … For starters, you.”

Chuckling at your response, Raven eyed your slightly sunken form. “ Me? I have no interest in this type of mission. In fact, I’m quite glad that you were assigned to it. This way, at least, I have some reassurance that the mission is more likely to succeed.”

Refusing to look at her, you smiled in acknowledgement, the happiness unable to reach your eyes.

Seeing your sullen state, Raven reached out her hand to grasp yours, comfortably stroking over your knuckles.

“ You will do fine. In fact, you’ve done so much more than what that bastard has ever achieved in his entire life.”

Wincing at Raven’s profanity, you cracked out a smile.

“ You’re lucky he’s dead, if not…” you spaced out, slicing your finger across your neck to continue your sentence.

Raven smiled at your joke. “ You’re part of the Crimson branch, Y/n, a predator that stands out among the rest,” Raven reminded you, “ I know that this is weighing a great deal of pressure on you but know that we are always here to assist you.”

“ ...You’re really bittersweet, Raven.”

Blinking calmly at your comment, Raven replied, “ Of course.”

Feeling the conversation fade away, you both followed the flow, quietly minding each other’s interest.

“ What’s with the atmosphere here?” Lisa announced, entering the scene, carrying the beverages on a tray. “ Now, now. Don’t be too sullen. Let me cheer you up with these drinks,” she proudly proclaimed.

Looking at the drinks that she had placed in front of you, your eyes glimmered in interest. Picking the cup up, you brought it closer to you, inspecting the contents within the cup.

“ What is this?” You asked, sniffing the aroma that was escaping.

Resting her arms on her hips, she explained, “ With Raven’s, I decided to go with a simple drink. A combination of our winery’s signature wine and rice wine have been added to highlight a clean yet edgy taste. Swan Knife”

Raven nodded, lips curling up in satisfaction. Picking up her cup, she slowly bring it to her lips, taking small gulps to savor the taste. “ Swan Knife? Mhmm, it fits.”

“ Of course.”

“ What about mine?”

Clapping her hand in excitement, Lisa giddily answered, “ Yours was a combination of the winery’s freshest batch and an old brandy imported from the west. I topped the drink off with a little citrusy tang to highlight the harmony of the senses. Overall, you will experience the sharp, bitter, and tangy sensation in one mouthful. Bittersweet Kiss.”

Taking in a deep breath, you mentally cringed at the name while Raven openly smirked at the coincidence. “ Sounds like a roller coaster,” you hummed, taking your gulp.

Closing your eyes, you let the taste of the alcohol cover every crevice of your mouth, confirming what Lisa said to be true.

“ Interesting,” you said, “ Definitely worth your praise.”

Preening at your praise, she happily thanked you.

Using the tea to cleanse your palate, you repeatedly go back and force between the two beverages.

“ Why don’t you join us, Lisa?” Raven offered.

Shaking her head, she gave out a sad expression, “ I’m afraid that won’t be possible. My other customers are waiting.”

Taking a quick look around, you couldn’t spot any other customer except for yourself and Raven. However, as if on cue, the door was slammed open, revealing a bunch of drunken men, toppling over each other to try and enter the space.

“ LISA! Give me the usual!”

Rolling her eyes at the male, she quickly covered it with a smile, bowing in greeting at you before heading over to the other customers.

“ She seemed like an interesting fellow,” you noted before going back to your drink.

“... Has the Master been demanding?”

Stopping yourself at the question, you bite your lip in confliction. “ In some aspects, yes, he is. But I still don’t understand what we are getting out from these missions.”

Raven swirl her drink in a circular motion. “ The Master is planning something big.”

You snorted, “ Of course he is. He wouldn't assign me this mission for some petty excuses. You...you know something right?”

Confirming your theory at her refusal to look you in the eye, you nodded in understanding. “ You don’t need to tell me. I understand.”

“ No, it’s not because I don’t want to tell you but it’s … complicated. But what I can definitely guarantee you is that the Master is planning something that you will never expect.”

Staring at her features, you slowly studied the face that you’ve known for years. Suddenly, you came up with a surprise connection, one you didn’t expect to come nor become real.

“ If I look at you now, you hold some resemblance with someone I know,” you nonchalantly commented.

Stiffening at your sudden observation, Raven fidget with the cup in her hand as you stared her down, trying to identify who it was.

“ Who?” She meekly asked.

“... H— No i think I’ve mistaken you with someone else,” you covered up.

There’s no way that this is a coincidence. I’m just overthinking it.

Subtly shutting her eyes at your response, it was obvious that Raven didn’t wholeheartedly believe your words but ignored it either way.

“ I heard that you started adopting consorts, and changed the initial plan.”

“ … I did unconsciously recruit a few more consorts aside from Taehyung, and did manage to alter some part of the plan. However, I promised that it’s nothing major. The plan is progressing relatively smoothly.”

Chuckling at yoru panicked voice, she assured you, “ It’s fine. There’s no need to panic, I was just asking… Are they good people?”

Unconsciously smiling at the thought, you hesitantly nodded. “ They’re interesting people. Certainly unique in their own little ways.”

“ You know that you attract many people to your ways, right?”

Snorting at her response, you cheekily grinned. “ Good or bad, I wonder.”

Raven looked at you knowingly, before smugly looking at the decor around you, not wanting to give out a verbal response. Raising your eyebrows at her antiques, you also took your stride in looking around.

On instinct, you looked over at the opened doors to be met with a background of the dark sky, illuminated by lanterns. Hastily standing up, you bided Raven goodbye, “ Looks like it’s my time to go now. When you have the time, make sure to stop at my place.”

Going to the door, you almost couldn’t catch Raven’s greetings. Feeling a small smile adorned your face, you quickly exited the winery and back into the streets.

Looking at your previous spot, Raven mindlessly sipped her drink.

“ They’re certainly an interesting one, aren’t they?” Lisa pipped in.

Raven smiled, “ Definitely.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Once again in the crowds of the festival, you hurriedly dodge through the drunkens, careful to not hit the vulnerables. Smiling every so often to showcase your politeness, your feet quickly carried you to the opposite end and eventually to a left turn.

Letting out a deep sigh, you were thankful for getting out of the mess in one piece. Just being in the place gets you to have flashbacks about previous experiences.

You slowed down your pace, making sure to not look any stranger than what already meets the eyes. . Unlike the previous district who was filled with energy, this place is quite tranquil considering it is a more major district of the capital.

Eyes constantly scanning the area, you felt yourself stopped at a particular parlour. Approaching the stall, you took your time admiring the items that were put on for sale.

Grazing over the various accessories, you smiled at how detailed the carvings are. Feeling your finger twitch at a certain ornament, you brought it closer for inspection. Hooking the look around your finger, you twirl it around to test its stability.

Not bad.

“ Owner, are there any other colors or designs for this?”

Clasping her hand in excitement, the owner hurriedly displayed the other designs available.

Eyes sparkling in interest, you inspect ones that caught your sight but couldn’t decide on which one to buy. Seeing your uncertainty, the owner said, “ If you don’t mind me asking but who is it you plan on giving it to?”

Looking up to look at her eyes that had started to droop from old age, you politely smiled. “ I am planning to buy it for a… a friend.”

Raising her eyebrows at your reply, the owner took a moment to look over at the collection, “ Is there anything in particular that stands out about them?”

“ … sunshine.”

Looking back and forth between you and the collection before she boldly handed you an ornament. Graciously accepting the ornament, you take a second to inspect the item.

“ This norigae* is sewn from one of the most popular materials this year. Even though the threads are sewn together, similar to a rope, it is very soft yet also extremely steady. The customer had said that your friend holds similarity to the sun so I thought that the golden color would suit them.”

Nodding at her observance, you happily accepted her advice. “ Thank you. I will take this one.”

Returning the ornament back to her, you looked down again at the accessories before spotting a few that had caught your eyes.

“ Owner, please also pack these up for me,” you said, pointing at a few items, “ Here is the money. Keep the change.”

Bowing at her in gratitude, you accepted the wooden box containing your goods before heading to the tea house. On the way, you once again tuck the box in your sleeves in case of any ill intentions roaming around.

Resuming your previous pace, you continue to scavenge around the district while on your way back to the tea house. Amidst the way, you noticed an inconsistent pattern of people that were accumulating in front of a store nearby, coincidentally blocking your path.

I must be aligned with crowds today, you sighed.

After standing in the same spot for a few moments, you begrudgingly put on a brave face and courageously walk toward the crowd, hoping to not be pulled to pieces.

Taking a deep breath at a particular hard jab, you desperately sucked in the warm, moist air around you, trying to not groan too loudly. Tightening your stomach in an attempt to make yourself seem smaller, you try your best to push through the crowd of people.

Hissing at a young lady that had bumped into you, stepping on your toe in the process, you suddenly found yourself stuck in the center, with no available escape route.

Sighing at your unfortunate situation, regretting your decision, you were suddenly aware of the admiring gazes that wee being pulled. Looking around in curiosity, you wondered why everyone was looking so intrigued … until you heard the strings of the gayageum* being plucked.

Ears on alert at the melody that was being played, you turned your head in the direction, your feet unconsciously headed towards the music until you were just behind a few other bypassers.

Once you had registered what was happening, your eyes widened in surprise at the main highlight of the performance.

Hoseok.

There he was, your Noble Consort, was at the center, seemingly carrying all the major parts of the piece, giving no care to the crowd that had surrounded him. Eyes closed, Hoseok let himself go and simply followed the flow of the music, in a complete trance where the only thing that existed was himself and the melody.

Robes fluttering along with his movement, Hoseok continue to move with th music, seemingly becoming one with the melody.

Speechless at the scene that is happening in front of you, you stared at his dancing figure in complete silence, completely forgetting where you are, too focus on Hoseok, himself. It also seemed that you were too involved in the performance that you, also gave no care to your surroundings.

Eyes staring at Hoseok, at his every movement— twirls, turns, and jumps, you engulfed yourself to enjoy the performance, deciding to put away your questions for later.

Slowly, one song after another ended yet Hoseok still kept dancing while you kept your eyes glued on him. No matter how many times you were pushed around, or the constant change in neighbours, you still remained in your spot only snapping out of your daze at a particular hard push.

Eyes glaring at the intruding figure, you shake your head to clear up your mind. Noticing at the slow change in melody indicating that the song was about to end, you looked at Hoseok one last time before turning around and returning to your tracks, this time making sure to not go off it.

At least I know I’m not the only one who’s late.

As you calmly walk through the street, the scene that had unfolded in front of your eyes kept coming back. Hoseok’s smooth yet sharp moves, soft yet powerful gestures, and how he managed to control the air around him made you more curious about him.

Who exactly are you?

Silently entering the tea house, you were too deep into your thought that you had even dismissed the greetings of the servants and instead just followed their lead to your previous spot.

“ Give me a serving of the sweets to go,” you mindless order.

Leaning back against the chair, you glanced down the window, searching for Hoseok’s incoming figure. However, you soon find out that he wasn’t going to come anytime soon. Even after receiving your sweets, Hoseok still did not come.

Placing the money down on the table, you grabbed the sweets and left the establishment and instead settled for the outside stairs to wait for him. Feeling your skin itch in agitation, you feel your anxiety increase as the minute goes by.

Where is he?

Feeling your mood getting increasingly worse, you accidentally growled at a man that accidentally touched you. Apologizing was a hazy memory when you were in this current state yet you still find yourself waiting, somehow not finding the need to go and find him yourself. However, in all of foolishness, Hoseok is bound to get at least a few of your lectures.

Finally, after the moon was halfway on its route, a familiar figure finally appeared. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know existed, you ruffled your hair in both relief and frustration; both emotions aiming at him.

“ Where have you been?”

Flinching at your cold tone, Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Instead, he opted to look down at the floor, in shame.

“ Did you realize what time it is?” You asked, “ When did we agree to meet?”

Once again, you were met with absolute silence. At this time, most of the stores and parlours had closed with only a few lanterns available to illuminate the street.

However, unlike the calm and tranquil the cool night should bring you, you felt a wave of frustration engulf you. In the back of your mind, you thanked your abilities to heal the wounds in time. Because without it, the wound would have already reopened with how hard you were clenching your arm.

Aside from your blazing eyes and your tense grasp on your sword, Hoseok couldn’t find any other evidence of your anger. However, even without any evidence, he knew that you were letting out anything but positive energy.

“ Whatever, we’ll talk about this at a later date,” you said, drawing a shaky sigh before presenting your arm, “ Let’s go.”

Looking at your arm, Hoseok hesitantly holds onto it before letting himself be dragged by you.

The silence presented during your guys’ walk was what Hoseok had expected when he accepted your invitation. However, he also understood the reason for why such a tense sensation was presented and was not naturally there.

As you approached the palace gates, you let go of Hoseok’s hand, reaching into your sleeve to take out your hopae*. When the guard spotted your tag, he immediately opened the gate, letting you both in. Before going in, you reached over to Hoseok to entangle your hand with his, not saying anything at his surprised expression. Thankfully, Hoseok also followed the flow and didn’t comment on your actions.

During the way to the Noble Consort’s courtyard, an eunuch had run over, offering to help guide you but was answered by a denial. Instead, you took the lantern from his hands and dismissed him.

Once you both were finally in front of Hoseok’s courtyard, you finally let go of his hand. Hoseok, who was about to bow to you, stopped when he saw you reach into your sleeve, seemingly looking for something.

Unlatching the rope that had secured the box, you quickly took out the norigae that you previously brought. Throwing it over to Hoseok’s direction, you turned around and began to walk to your courtyard, not looking at his reaction.

“ A souvenir from me. If it’s not to your fancy, throw it away.”

Hastily catching the item that you had disposed into his hands, he confusingly looked at it before realizing what it was. Grazing over the norigae fondly, Hoseok carefully untangled the knots. Grasping the ornament tightly, he felt his lips turn upward at your gestures. Bringing it close to his chest, he looked at your disappearing figure, attentively.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Within the next month of the announcement, news of the arrival of the new consorts began to enter the palace, and eventually, reaching the court. The ministers and officials were overjoyed at the news, happy that they were still sending over the candidates despite your announcement.

Unlike others who were happy about the consorts’ arrival, Taehyung was still soured over the news, as well as your choice.

Despite Taehyung’s obvious disapproval, it was customary for you to at least spend a night with each consort in the first week, especially if they were from a different country.

On your first night of the three, you met your first choice from the piles of possible candidates.

Sato Chungho, was a righteous man who had an outstanding record and an ambition in politics. He was so intrigued by it that you had spent the entire night talking about the subject.

“ Politics, you say?” You asked curiously as you propped your chin on your hand.

Chungho enthusiastically nodded, eyes trained on your every movement. “ Yes, your majesty.”

You hummed, “ Why are you suddenly bringing this up?”

Looking down at his hands, Chungho fidgets with the fabric of his attire. “ I had heard that your majesty is well versed in this field. Since I have met you, I … I knew that love would never be able to blossom between the two of u—”

“ Why would you say that?” You interrupted, eyes peering down at him in interest.

“ You might not know this, your majesty but you have been a very popular topic in Shihoma. Previously, we all had known about how terrible the Corea’s monarch was but since your arrival, everyone couldn’t help but be intrigued by how you managed to take him down. More importantly, the way you handled this Consort Selection both showcases your dominance and how you’re not afraid to flaunt it. Many would have to think twice about doing this, especially for a country that has yet to establish a good reputation.”

“ Then wouldn’t my actions be considered to be reckless. If you think about it, won’t it be easy for other countries to fight ours since it’s so vulnerable right now?”

Chungho shakes his head, “ It would be unlikely because most people know that most of the soldiers had gone to your side before and during the rebellion. You didn’t lose that many soldiers so attacking you is not a minor matter.”

Raising your eyebrows at his answer, you nodded your head. “ Then what would you like?”

“ I would like…” Chungho gulped, “ to learn more about politics under you.”

A potential.

Cracking a smile at his uncertainty, you stand up from your seat. Waving your hands to signal him to come over, you invited, “ Come. Play a game of go with me.”

With that, Chungho giddily accepted your invitation and both of you found yourself spending the entire night indulged in all the games you had available.

On the second night, things turned out to be more interesting with the second consort.

“ Chin-Hae means the truth and a vast ocean, correct?” You had asked.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ And you’re a son of a merchant?”

“ Yes, your majesty.”

Scanning at him from top to the bottom, and bottom to top, you couldn’t decipher the unsettled feeling that is blooming within your chest. You have been caught up in many situations where there is a sense of familiarity despite being strangers. And this is one of those situations.

“ You look familiar.”

“ I am afraid that we have never meet until today,” he said, “ However, you might have find my demeanour similar to some of the envoys that are currently residing in the palace.”

“ … you’re from Xin May yet you behave like the Ecenyths, you must have travelled quite a bit.”

“ As a merchant’s child, I have started travelling since I could even remember. However, I did spent a reasonable amount of time in Ecenyth.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “ Tell me the stories of the land you have visited.”

“ Where would you like to hear first, your majesty?”

“ … Xin May,” you decided, “ Tell me the culture, people, myths, legends. Anything of interest to your home country.”

Chin-Hae smiled, “ Yes, your majesty.”

As a result, you spent the entire night listening to the various stories from Chin-Hae; from the land’s culture to personal experiences and connection, Chin-Hae had told it in such an interesting manner that it captivated you every step of the way. He truly is a merchant.

I wonder if Seokjin is also good at storytelling.

On the third and final night, you were beyond exhausted with being deprived of sleep for two days straight and the constant piles that were presented on your desk. Thus, you didn’t have as much energy as usual and hoped that today will be like the other two.

Turns out, the third time was really the charm since it was completely different from the rest.

Entering your bedroom, you wanted nothing more than to fall onto the bed and travel to dreamland. Feet dragging your slouched body to the familiarity of your bed, you were suddenly hit with the realization of the slight change in the room’s placement.

Sobering up at the thought of an intrusion, you glared at every change in your normally simple chamber, feeling the irritation in you double. Aside from the difference in decor, the usual scent of lavender that would caress your skin was replaced with an overpowering scent of perfume. Feeling a headache reappearing, you sluggishly walked towards your bed only to be met with a big clump covered by a thin, transparent fabric.

The person must have noticed your speechless demeanour when they let out soft, high-pitched giggles. Normally, you would have define the noise as angelic but with your non-sobered state, fondness was not on top of the list.

Harshly grabbing the fabric, you forcefully tugged it off the figure and threw it to the floor. Looking into the bright yet hazy black orbs, you find yourself not knowing what to do.

“ Greetings to your majesty.”

Squinting your eyes in an attempt to find familiarity in the person in front to you but unable to do so, you find yourself speechless of what to say nor do. Suddenly, you realized that he was the one who you have chosen randomly, a person that you didn’t even bother knowing the name of.

Turning the other way, guiltily, you refused to look into the person’s eye, ashamed as what you did that day. However, the person seated on your bed took your action as an attempt to distance yourself away from him. As a result, he sneakily reach out his hand to touch your clenched ones.

Shivering at the chilling skin that had enveloped into your warmer ones, you looked at him, waiting to see what he would do.

As if knowing what you were hinting, the person took the opportunity to pull you to him, successfully setting you seated next to him.

Taking a deep breath, you could define the different fragrances that he was using.

Rose, with a light note of chamomile, citrus, lavender? No, what is it?    

Confused at what you were smelling, you didn’t notice the roaming hands that were venturing your body until it travelled to your thigh. In a moment of panic, you pushed him away from you, shocking him in the process.

“ You… what’s your name?”

Yet to recover from the sudden shove, the male hastily replied, “ P-park Jimin, your majesty.”

Awkwardly nodding at his answer, you make sure to raise your hands, signalling that you meant no harm. “ I apologize, Jimin-ssi. There was so much work that I seemed to forget your name,” you said, shuffling away.

You knew that lying was bad in this situation but you also knew that saying that he was chosen in a matter of luck was worse. In other terms, he was lucky to be picked and wasn’t picked based on his capabilities unlike the other two.

There’s no way that I’ll tell him that.

Once again, using the opening of you drifting off, Jimin approached you, hands delicately running up your legs, eyes glimmering with mischief and flirtatiousness.

Speechless at what he was doing, you could only stare as he continued to venture across the span of your skin. Gently prying his hands off you, you push Jimin away. This time, on alert for any of his upcoming initiatives.

“ So tell me about yourself,” you said, brushing off what had just happened.

Staring at you confusingly, Jimin’s finger twitches in agitation. “ Why are you doing this?”

“ What do you mean?” You asked, scrunching up your nose.

“ Why are you asking these questions when you already know the answer?” He asked, eyes hiding behind his bangs.

“ I apologize, it seems that I have offended you. These past few days have been so busy that I haven't had the time to go over your profile yet.”

“ You didn’t even have the time to look into me?” He murmured, eyes locked on the velvet sheets.

You waved your hand in a hurry, protesting. “ Of course not. I sincerely apologize. I truly didn’t have the time to do so.”

Part of it was true while the other wasn’t being told. Yes, you have been extremely busy that you didn’t have any spare time and would go to sleep straight away after you return to your courtyard. However, you also did pick Jimin randomly, thus not having the fresh opportunity to look at his portrait.

You were really regretting your decisions of following the ministers’ miscellaneous plans.

Picking his head up, you propped them on top of your hand, directly looking into his own. Seeing his stunned expression because of your initiatives was something unexpectedly amusing; plushed lips puckered out to form a pout, a crimson shade that is spreading along the span of his cheeks, and eyes widen in such a manner that you almost couldn’t stop yourself from cooing about his cuteness.

Regretting at not seeing his painted portrait, you wonder if the artist managed to capture his beauty.

Smiling gently at your gestures, Jimin blinks continuously to try and seduce you.

Smirking at his antiques, you followed whatever he was luring you into before trapping him under your body. Arms placed on either side of him, Jimin bravely looked at you, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner.

Lowering yourself until you were barely above him, you whispered into his ear, “ What do you think you’re doing.”

Feeling an unfamiliar sensation blooming within his core, Jimin unhurriedly replied, “ Whatever your majesty wants to do, I will follow.”

Smirking at his response, you continue to tease him by grazing your finger lightly across his skin, similar to what he had done to you. Seeing him squirm at the feeling was definitely a sight to see; amidst your teasing, you could even see a slight change in demeanour for a moment before it was covered by the previous thin layer of lust.

How interesting.

“ Oh really?”

Shivering at the moisture of your breath, Jimin couldn’t help but anticipate what was about to happen. However, his fantasize was cut short when he was no longer pinned down, the previous pressure dissipating into the air.

Pulling away from Jimin, you turned around, starting to take off your robe. “ You may stay here if you wish. We can talk about whatever but nothing related to what we just did.”

“ … So you just wanted to tease me?”

Clenching your fist at his question, you shakily replied, “ I apologize. I… I wanted to find out something.”

Jimin bit his lip, eyes glaring at your back. “ And that gives you the need to tease me? You may be my master, your majesty. But I am still a human who has feelings.”

“ … I apologize.”

“ Apologies, apologies,” Jimin huffed out, “ If you don’t want me here then I will leave.”

Standing up, Jimin takes the fabric, previously thrown to the floor and wrapped it around himself. Walking past you, Jimin didn’t look at you and instead focused on the door. Pushing the doors open, Jimin was about to leave but was suddenly pulled back.

Gasping at the pulling force, Jimin staggered backwards into your chest. “ I did say that I would let you leave but I didn’t agree to you leaving while in such a foul mood.”

Now, against your chest, you and Jimin were at the same height, none towering over the other but within your presence, Jimin found himself cowering under your watchful eyes.

“ W-what do you want now?”

“ I want to apologize to you,” you said, “ What do you want me to do?”

Turning around to look into your eyes, Jimin undoubtedly could sense your genuinity. Still trapped in your embrace, Jimin took his time to think and weigh the possible outcomes.  

“ You would do whatever I say?”

“ If it’s reasonable, yes. I would do anything.”

Taking into consideration of your words, Jimin giddily thought up of various options. “ Then… give me jewelry as compensation.”

“ Jewelry? What do you want specifically?”

“ Anything that shows your favour in me. Things that would make people envy my position by your side.”

You nodded, agreeing with his terms. “ I will have something prepared for you by tomorrow and sent to your courtyard. For now…”

Looking over at your drawers, eyes sparkling up at the idea. Unlatching your arms around Jimin, you walked up to your drawers. Pulling a small drawer, you gingerly searched around before pulling a certain item out.

Returning to where you previously were, you gestured for him to turn around. You carefully placed the accessories against his skin, encasing the knot to secure the necklace in place. “ Keep this as a promise that I will fulfill my role.”

Grasping the pendant, Jimin looked over the design in awe before cracking a smile.

Seeing his smile, you commented, “ I see that you ar—“

“ Acceptable,” Jimin arrogantly said.

“ I’m glad,” you said, walking towards the table, pouring yourself a cup of tea, “ Let’s have a proper conversation now, shall we?”

Rolling his eyes at your comment, Jimin clenched the fabric wrapped around him before heading towards the table, taking a seat opposite of you.

“ Now, what can I know about you, Jimin-ssi.”

“ You don’t need to be that formal. Please call me Jimin.”

You smiled, “ Gladly.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ Now tell me about the Scavenge Disaster.”

Hastily going through the notes that he had memorized yesterday, Jungkook clumsily replied, “ The Scavenged Disaster was a breakout of droughts in the southern regions forcing many to go get refuge in other places?”

“ Continue.”

“ Mhmm.. the Sca—”

“ Say it with more confidence,” Taehyung interrupted.

Shooting him a glare, you scrunched up your eyebrows in frustration. Opening your mouth, you were about to say something when Taehyung continued to interrupt you.

“ How can you not remember the basics?” He degraded once he saw the hesitation that still lingered in Jungkook’s eyes.

Eyes widening at his words, you shouted, “ Royal Consort! Be careful with your words!”

Rolling his eyes at your word, Taehyung leaned back against his seat and focused on Jungkook, waving his hand for him to continue.

Shaking your head, you roughly slumped down into your seat, ignoring the stare that Jungkook was giving you.

Swallowing all the tension down, Jungkook went back to what he has been doing, now, even more agitated.

From the start of today’s lesson, the intensity of the air in the room was at an abnormal level. You all have noticed the change but no one put in the effort to address it.

“ When did this occur?”

“ Ten years before the previous dynasty ended.”

“ How old were you then?”

“ I was… ten at that time.”

“ I heard that you were constantly out of the palace,” you said, “ Must have been hard for you.” Nonchalantly looking down at the papers on the table, you didn’t caught Taehyung’s soured gaze.

“ Ten? You’re barely an adult now. Must have been a little brat,” Taehyung commented.

Sighing, you tiredly looked over at him, “ Brat? Look at you right now. You’re the brattiest yet.”

Taehyung scowled at your comment, “ Whatever. What has this lesson turned into? A personal bonding time for the two of you? Forget it, we’re done for today. I’m not in the mood for it.”

“ Jungkook you may go,” you dismissed him, letting out an exhausted sigh, and rubbed your tensed eyebrows. Seeing Taehyung also standing up, you were quick to confront him, “ You, dear Royal Consort, is staying until I tell you otherwise.”

Turning around, Taehyung looked at you with raised eyebrows, challenging you. “ You can’t control me.”

“ As long as I have the crown, there is nothing I can’t get my hands onto, including you.”

Huffing at your comment, Taehyung slumped down into his seat, not looking at you.

“ Why are you like this?” You asked, frustrated.

“ Why are you asking me? Ask yourself!” He yelled out, disbelief clearly adorned on his face.

“ What did I do?”

“ You took in three other consorts!”

“ I was forced to!”

“ You’re the owner of this land, no one can control you.” He said, using your comment as payback.

You chewed on your cheek at your words getting backfired. “ It's a minor problem, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“ Minor problem? Sure it is. So incredibly small that it caused chaos in the imperial court, agitating all the ministers.”

“ If you’re worried about them interrupting ou—”

“ I don’t care about the plan. What if they fancy you!” He retorted, pouting at his own words.

Eyebrows raised at Taehyung’s tantrum, you unconsciously lean back to enjoy the show.

“ You’re worried that they will gain power if they have my favour?”

“ That too,” Taehyung muttered.

“ Don’t worry. Chung-ho and Chin-Hae aren’t in the mindset of settling down,” you reassured, “ Chung-ho is too busy with his interest in politics while Chin-Hae will be travelling.”

During your guys’ little talk, you had personally promised to give Chin-Hae the privilege to exit the palace at will in return for little souvenirs that he will bring back. This may sound immature but you have plans for those items.

“ You guys are on first-name-basis now? Whatever, whatever, whatever... Then what about the third one?” He asked.

You tilted your head confusingly, not able to hear what he just said. “ What did you say?”

Taehyung looked at you, eyes piercing into your own. “ I asked about the third one. Jimin was it?”

“ Jimin?” You pulled out, chewing on your head as you remember what had happened on your guys’ first meeting. “ I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouted, “ Then there is still a possibility!”

“ If you don’t trust my words then go see for yourself.”

At your words, Taehyung turned around and walked out. “ I will.”

I will see for myself what you all have.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

A week later, Taehyung upholds his promise by arranging an informal afternoon tea meetup with the rest of the harem. He definitely needed to see how these consorts are faring.

Seated in the middle of the round table where every person that comes and goes is in his vision field, Taehyung patiently waited for all the guests to arrive.

Slowly, the Blue Pearl garden started to get crowded by people, surrounding the table situated under the gazebo.

On his left, seated the Imperial Consort, the only consort that he, the Royal Consort has to show some face to.

It is best said that the relationship between the Imperial Consort and himself is not the best but it’s also not the worst.

We just don’t align, is what he would like to say.

Maybe in another situation, he and the Imperial Consort can find a common ground but in a harem, he is barely able to keep it under his control without the interference of another party. As a result, if’s they can’t be acquaintances then being neutrals would do.

Naturally, the farther they are to the host, the inferior their status is, meaning that when those new consorts arrive, they will be on the opposite side of him. More specifically, facing him directly on this round table.

On his right, there sat the eldest Noble Consort, who was all too busy with looking at the surrounding to spare him no mind.

I must agree to what Y/N had said. Childlike yet witty.

Perking up at another incoming group, Taehyung smiled in greeting. “ Ah, Consort Sato, welcome. Take a seat next to Noble Consort Jung.”

Bowing down in greetings, Chungho smiled at Taehyung’s words. “ Greetings to the Royal Consort, Imperial Consort Min, and Noble Consort Jung,” he said before heading towards the seat next to Hoseok’s

At least this kid knows manners.

Taehyung smiled in satisfaction, “ Good. I like you.”

“ I’m honoured to be in your favour.”

“ The Consort Yang has arrived!” The eunuch outside announced.

Turning his attention towards the entrance, Taehyung gently nodded in greetings, already not liking the person with a tacky smile.

Unlike Chungho, who was dressed in the imperial hanbok, expected of a concubine’s status; and behaved in a way much like so. Chin-Hae, instead wore the clothes of his homeland, and put on a disgustingly confident smile.

Normally, Taehyung would have overlooked this as he is also interested in ways one can express themselves through fashion but when that person is his rival, he simply can’t overlook it.

Like understanding what he was trying to convey, a maid by his side stood up. “ Consort Wang sure is unique.”

Instead of being offended, Chin-Hae beamed at her words.

Seeing his expression, Taehyung also smiled in amusement. “ Take a seat, Consort Yang.”

Interesting.

“ I heard that Xin May is a really energetic country.”

“ The epicenter for festivals and entertainment,” Taehyung piped in, casually.

“ It really is. I would say that I am forced to attend at least a dozen festivals every year. And that doesn’t even account to the ones specific to each region.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Hoseok leaned forward in curiosity. “ That must really be eventful.”

“ Sounds like you were busy.”

“ I really wasn’t. Besides, I would trade time for the smallest chance of getting to attend. Unfortunately, my father is trying to train me to inherit the business. Days fill with work and politics is too much for me to cope, however...” Chin-Hae denied, sighing at the thought of the constant work piles.

Blinking at his words, Hoseok commented, “ Right, I heard that Consort Sato is interested in politics from your majesty. Is it true?”

Looking up from his hands, Consort Sato bashfully nodded. “ I have been interested in politics since childhood but was never allowed to have any information on it.”

“ You enjoy politics? Such a unique hobby.”

Taehyung opened his mouth, preparing to say something when he was suddenly interrupted with an announcement.

“ Consort Park has arrived!”

Raising his eyebrows at the incoming figure, Taehyung propped his head on top of his hand.

Now, this is a sight to see.

Compared to the rest, Jimin’s attire was overly done. From the expensive materials that were used, to the intricate designs that were sew onto the fabric, one could definitely tell that he was born noble.

With every step, the bells of his bracelet could be heard jingling as Jimin draws closer to the gazebo. Putting on a confident smile, Jimin did a slight bow in greetings, hands clasped over his chest.

“ Consort Park certainly is prepared,” Chin-Hae commented, astonished at his attire.

“ I thank the Consort Yang for the compliment.”

Taehyung bitterly smiled at the act, feeling his slowly adrenaline rise.

“ Please take a seat, Consort Park. The sun is already in its third quarter and the event has yet to start. Without any further interrupti—”

“ Apologies, apologies, Royal Consort. I had to do some work and forgot the time. I didn’t miss out on anything major, did I?” A booming voice exclaimed, racing from the entrance to where they were.

Taehyung scowled at the familiar voice, eyes glaring at the rushed figure.

“ Merchant of the South,” Hoseok greeted.

Like who Hoseok had said, the steps of Seokjin grew closer to the gazebo, face brightened up at the sight in front of him. Stopping meters away from the entrance, Seokjin bent down to a bow in greeting. “ Greetings to the Consorts.”

“ I was not aware that you were invited.”

“ Apologies, I immediately rushed over the moment I heard that you were holding tea time.”

You knew that you were not invited and yet…, Taehyung rolled mentally rolled his eyes before looking to the side, silently motioning for the arrangements to be done.

Nodding at his signal, the person focused on the preparations, no longer caring at the stares he was receiving.

“ Seems like you knew that you were not invited,” Yoongi straightforwardly pointed out, “ Why are you here then?”

Motioning the maid to go get another chair, Hoseok added, “ Are you here to greet the new consorts?”

“ Partially. I was getting curious at the uprising of the new trio and wanted to go see for myself.”

Unlike others, Jimin reacted at the comment by clenching his jaded fist. Staring like I’m an animal, how daring.

Looking around, Jimin noticed how no one was fazed by Seokjin’s words, secretly stunned at how nonchalantly all of them are until his eyes met with Yoongi’s. Flusteredly looking away, Jimin made a move to smooth out his attire, fidgeting with the fabric along the way.

“ Apologies, only those who have been given permission to attend can do so,” Taehyung's eyes narrowed Seokjin’s figure, “ Besides, I believe the envoy has much better things to attend to than some measly tea event.”

The merchant shook his head in disapproval, “ Attending this event is also part of my duties. The emperor has specifically ordered me to visit the consorts frequently to build a better relationship with them… Also, it had seemed that I was not the only one that came without being invited.” After that, Seokjin’s eyes automatically set its attention on the person behind the table of herbs.

The host smiled, grabbing his wooden fan on the table before flicking it open, gently oscillating it, “ Hmm?... Ah, care to answer that by yourself?”

Setting down the equipment, Namjoon unhurriedly waited for all the boiled water to drain from the pot before gently placing it on the tray. Motioning the maids to bring it, Namjoon made his way to the centre table, smiling all the way. Stopping a couple of steps behind Taehyung, Namjoon clasped his left hand over his right and bowed, “ I apologize for not greeting you, Consorts… Envoy of Ecenyth. Thanks to the Royal Consort, I have the honour of concocting all the drinks that will be served.”

Scanning up and down, Jimin observed Namjoon’s manners, picking up the Royal Consort’s obvious favour towards him. So he is on his side, or maybe… Jimin smiled at the thought which skillfully got hidden by a tea cup placed in front of him.

“ Concocting? Sounds like this will have many benefits.”

“ Of course, Noble Consort Jung. It wouldn’t be right of me to not prepare a nutritious drink,” Namjoon explained.

Hoseok only smiled but made no attempt to reach out for the cup. “ Please sit down, envoy. Why not have a cup of tea while you are here?” He offered once he realized Seokjin was still standing.

Smiling gratefully, Seokjin quietly slipped on to the seat that was just delivered.

Scanning around, Taehyung noted how not a single person had consumed the tea. “ Why aren’t you tasting it? This variety is quite fragrant and won’t be as nutritious if taken cold,” Taehyung commented, letting out a teasing smile, “ Perhaps you all are afraid that it is poisoned?”

Feeling the people around him tensed at his blunt words, Taehyung picked up his own cup before taking a sip from it, flipping it over to show he had finished it. “ See? Now, drink up.”

Sighing at Taehyung’s words, Yoongi deadpanned at how appetizing and easy it was to step into his trap. How annoying, he thought, glancing at Namjoon before staring into his own. Yoongi gracefully lifted the cup to his nasal, taking in a whiff of its scent. Placing the porcelain edge against his lips, Yoongi carefully took a sip. “ Not poisoned.”

Making eye contact with Hoseok, Yoongi subtly nodded, confirming what he previously said was true. Relying on his words, Hoseok also took a sip and smiled at the pleasant taste. “ Such a smooth taste.”

Taehyung smiled, at least we work considerably well together.

“ I’m glad that this tea has satisfied you.”

“ Move on to the next course,” Taehyung ordered, “ I hope you all haven’t ate anything today.”

At his command, the surrounding servants were put to work. Skilfully replacing the dishes placed on the tables with new ones, one can see the obvious change in style.

“ The decorations have changed,” Chin-Hae commented, looking at the sight in front of him in amazement.

Giggling at his comment, Taehyung nodded. “ Of course. Now that we are waiting on the next course, allow me to explain today's concept,” taehyung started, picking up the previous course’s cup, “ With each change in course, a new course will be bestowed based on a designated season. The previous was spring, this time will be summer, eventually becoming autumn and winter.”

Eyes sparkling at Taehyung’s voice, Jimin couldn’t help but clasp an exaggerated gesture over his petite face in awe. “ Such consideration the Royal Consort has put in.”

Taehyung nodded his head in gratitude, continuing to swing his fan back and forth.

“ Unlike spring, summer is considerably heavier so the Royal Consort has highlighted the use of fruits?” Hoseok asked.

“ Correct. Do you know the reason why?”

“ Because summer has the largest spectrum in terms of fruits.”

Snorting at his words, Taehyung said, “ Of course, envoy. However, aside from the taste, there is another factor to why I have put it here.”

“ Why?” Chungho asked, curious.

“ It’s because fresh fruits symbolises vitality, youth, abundance… and fertility,” Taehyung smiled. “Either way, isn’t it the perfect description of the Nurturing Solstice?”

Blushing at the Royal Consort’s indications, Jimin couldn't help but wonder what his life will now be like.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ They were talking about the Nurturing Solstice?” You asked, “ Taehyung must have had a fun time.”

Compared to the past, the current Nurturing solstice is quite watered down. Previously, the Nurturing Solstice did not only mark the start of a new harvest season but also the start of something more humanly— something more mature.

“ Yes, the new consorts were blushing at the Royal Consort’s openness.”

“ Let him have his fun. Cooping up in the palace isn’t good for anyone,” you said, “ Right, make sure to keep an eye on the new consorts, especially Chin-Hae.”

Clenching his hands, Chin-Hwa clumsily bowed at you tonal command, “ yes, your majesty.”

Glancing at his posture from your spot, you observed how uncomposed he became. Sighing, you leaned against the window frame, gazing out of the window. “ The sky is darkening.”

“ Yes, you majesty. It is estimated that the storm will go on for at least three days.”

You hummed at his reply, “ As expected… an abrupt change is about to occur.”

Tilting his head at your sudden comment, Chin-Hwa shot you a confused glance.

Dismissing his stare, you continue to stare at the sky.

It’s just that I don’t know how though.

~MintVender ( 19/05/21 )

Definitions:

Norigae - a traditional korean accessory that is usually hung at the waist at a person. It acts as a fashion item as well as a good-luck charm to bring youth and wealth to the person.

Gayageum -  a Korean board zieuter, with 12 silk strings, and 12 movable bridges. Made from paulownia wood, he zither is about 160cm(62 inches) long and 30cm(12 inches) wide.

Hopae - an identification tag that carries the bearer’s name, place of birth, status, residence during the Joseon dynasty.

[iamdarkness]

Letters from Fodlan.

(Not Sent.)

 The accounts of the missing parts in To Feed a Tiger

These are Dimitri’s memories of those missing parts in forms of letters never sent to you. A/N at the end.

This is Feral Dimitri POV.

Chapter one.

 Now that I have left Askr to try my luck to beat destiny; I want to thank you for everything you have done for me. I want to gift you my memories of the events that changed me for ever that had to do with you and them. This is the account of the times I encountered Lif, including the times I never told you, I witnessed for fear you would think badly of me.

  Then I gain I was in a bad place at the time and making bad decision. I am very aware that I can not send this to you ______, but I still want to put these memories to paper and preserve them for the time being. Then one day when I am a king and my battles done, we will meet each other again and then I will be able to tell you my self about this…And we will see each other again, of this I am sure. I will not bend or break. I must prevail and save my people and my self.

   The first night I saw him was the night you game me leave to use Corrin’s tree house. The half dragon had come to Askr in a bad state of mind and considered himself a danger to everyone. You had commissioned a tree house for him to live in, not too far away from the castle complex. It was a cabin proper but high up and propped up by four high trees. Prince Alfonse had been the one who wanted it that big you told me later. I suppose he liked the stories Corrin told you all of his childhood and his tree house. I can see the prince coming to spend some time away in here tom relax…but I digress.

  That had been a dark night. The moon was half full and there were groups of clouds lazily moving across it, blocking its light by intervals. That had been also the night you had come to visit me. That small act of kindness, had been the start of my recovery. The light at the end of the long tunnel of darkness. You had brought me dinner and I had done the best to get you to keep your distance but you never judged me. You stayed until I was ready to leave. I was in truth reluctant to do so. I felt you could understand my pain. You offered me apologies for intruding in my life, when you were right to do so and then you offered me a safe heaven where I could heal. You trusted me to follow you into the darkness of the night, to the woods, where the tree house I was to stay in was located and hidden. You knew what I could do and still you trusted me. I thought you foolish at the time, but this trust was what has kept me alive. After you left me to go back to the tree house I spent some time “conversing with the dead” as my hallucinations would not give me rest.

 After I had lost my eye my other senses had sharpened with the exception of taste. I heard the heavy steps of an armored unit make his way through the forest and as it neared the house I looked out the window. The house was high up and magically hidden as you had said, so I was invisible to the person below. My demons were never physical and even in my poor mental state I knew he was real, but it could not be so. He glowed brighter than the moonlight and a bluish color. His piercing red eyes searched the night for what I did not know. For a second I thought Death himself had come to get me and punish me for my sins. I could feel the rage and hate emanating from his blade like poisonous miasma, but he was not looking for me. The next thing I thought was that this was a spy and that he was wearing some strange armor that had some hidden virtue.

 I went down as silently as I had learned to move in my later years. He was, I suppose not expecting anyone around and was too distracted with his thoughts to detect my presence. Near the border of the fores he started to move in silence too. He moved like a predator; the same as I.

   Before he reached the edge of the woods he covered his glowing chest and mask, but before he did so I got a glimpse of his chest. I could see his ribcage inside the armor and the glowing matter was akin to water or crystal. It looked so in my eyes at least at the time. Once again I thought he could not be real, that he was a phantom made real to torment me and take away the only person in this world who had been kind to me. So I waited to see what he would do. If he was a spy come to do any harm I would finish him and if he was indeed a phantom I would still defeat it, or die trying.

   He stayed there in the darkness looking in at the light of the torches and the guards patrolling. He did not see to be surveying or to even care for the pattern of the guards. Then it happened. He tensed up and seemed to see something far away. It was two figures who had come from around the corner. It was you and Alfonse. He seemed to melt into tree he was hiding behind. I was about to pounce on him when you started singing softly. Your voice carried to where his hidden form trembled with a hidden emotion. The way he said your name, send shivers down my spine. It was the the prayer of the dying. The emotions in that sole word…Devotion, longing, sadness, love…

   Not too far from where you and I had sat you stood talking to a guard. They were giving their reports, not aware of the two persons intruding on their useless watch.

   -Do you want to go to the library and drink some tea?- You ask Alfonse.

   -It is late. Are you not tired?- Asked the prince.

 - It’s never too late to drink tea with you.- You say smiling while your hand touches his, almost by accident but his hand hand reacting at once catches your fingers in his. At this distance I can see him blushing hard.- But if you are tired…

   -No!- He answers faster than necessary, but he does not seem to care.-We should take it in the study. That way we can go right to sleep after.- You nod and the both of you turn to leave. Such an innocent, yet intimate exchange.

   -Alfonse.

   The stranger moved and my attention had returned to him. He had said the name with such hate and sadness. No… Not hate.. it felt more like jealousy. His Gauntlet-ed hand had carved the surface of the tree with its metal nails. He made to follow as you walked away, but he stayed in place. When you turned the corner he turned away but stayed a while. His figure leaned on the tree while he covered his face with one his hands.

  I turned away then. I felt I was intruding on a pain beyond what I had ever experience and too personal to witness. I only looked again when he made to leave. He uncovered his chest and face then and looked at the moon. From behind the mask the words of your song reached me with the voice of the specter. The whisper low and sad.

   -If I could,then I would…I’ll go wherever you will go…

   He came back a few nights later and I noticed that it was always the nights you were out on patrol.He had memorized your schedule it seemed. I got the idea, that even though he was jealous of Alfonse, he did not seemed to care for him or tried to harm him. There were nights when the prince would do a round by himself and the specter never came those days. I learned later that Alfonse was doing Sharena’s patrol since she had been working with the refugees and my specter friend had taken to spying her at town during the day,

   Then came the night my hallucination returned while we were talking during my dinner. You looked so sad that day and it sobered me up to see how haunted you were by the deaths you felt you had caused. You took responsibility instead of denying it, the way cowards always did. I knew then you felt the same way I did, but where I had become a monster you were becoming a light. I felt I should warn you about him. He was surely coming tonight and you were warned.

   Still I new you were not going to resist and that after my show of lunacy you would dismiss my warning as a product of my mind. I waited for him, hidden by the edge of the woods where he always hid to see you.

   He appeared again from deep within the woods. His slow determined walk turned quiet and again he covered his glowing chest and face. He stood there like I had seen him the previous nights. By the talk we had had earlier I guessed now that this was Lif, the person that had helped you before, but I was still unsure.

  Thankfully my demons were quiet that night and I was able to keep my sanity while this happened. The time when you came from around the corner of the building arrived. You were talking to Prince Alfonse and your hand movement reflected it was a quite emotional subject. Since I was closer to the clearing this time I could hear you better that the last time.

 -Luckily the potion was created fast and it is very safe.- I could hear the voice of the prince and his tone was almost soothing.

 -Yes. Even then I can’t help but worry about him not wanting to take it.

 -Why wouldn’t he take it? He must know you are only trying to help him.

 -He may not Alfonse. Most people that have this kind of psychological trauma and have hallucinations think they are real and there is no convincing them of the truth. I fear Dimiti may not understand that he is sick and that his demons are only the product of his sick mind. I worry so much about him Alfonse… I can’t…I don’t want him to die..

 This is when I noticed you were talking about me. What I felt at the realization was a jumble of feelings coming at me so fast it gave me mental whiplash. I was surprised at first and then I felt cold anger that you would think everything was just my imagination. I felt invalidated in my pain. Part of my mind, the one that was sick and delusional told me you did not believe me and did not care for me the way I had thought. But the part of my mind that had been touched by your efforts told me this was not the truth. I knew I was sick; and I knew I had been sick even before this. I had been told this so many times and I didn’t want to listen. What was worst was that my position as a prince meant that it was easier to ignore my mental problems than to risk their positions and this way the problems went unchecked until it was too late. Still, here there was a way for me to get better and people that cared for me. It made me feel a wave of warmth I had not felt since my childhood.

 -We will come up with a way to help him. Don’t worry.- He says softly and takes your hand. I hear a gasp from my right where the person watching you lays in wait.

 -Oh Alfonse. I am so sorry to drag you in. You keep telling me to not get close to the heroes and I know it is because you got hurt, but …

 -I have to learn to let go or I will never grow… but it is hard..

 -That’s because when you care for someone you give them your heart. You are so passionate Alfonse…You don’t do stuff by halves and that is the reason…-You let the silence end your sentence as you both stay watching one another. The steps of the guards may have been what brought your attention back to reality.- Any way…Yeah you better learn to let go or your future children will suffer for it.- You say with a laugh. He is taken aback by this and is visibly flustered.

 -What? My kids… erm…the things you say _____.

 -It’s true! I can see you not letting them marry until they are 40.

 -Not true.- He says and he sounds so young,- Forty years are a perfect time to get married.

 -Alfonse are you getting married until you are forty? Because I am not waiting that long.-You say and turn around to engage a guard. The prince stand there rooted to the spot with an expression between happiness and bashfulness.

 -I would marry you right now…- He says too softly for you and the guard to hear but I could hear them because he was closer to the tree line and because these words were echoed by the man standing near me at exactly the same time.

 The prince then joins you and the guard to take the reports and after a while I see you step aside and watch the place where we have dinner every night. Then you turn to the moon now past full and  the soft words of a song start to fall from your lips.

 - Come to my window…crawl inside and wait by the light of the moon. Come to my window… I’ll be home soon…I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath. And I would stand inside my hell and hold the hand of death.- The reaction to the song was quite visible. Knowing I had told you someone would be coming, it felt to me like an invitation and it was plain he had taken it as such. But the words that had followed had truck him harder than the first. From where the prince was standing he gave you a look that seemed at the time unreadable to me at the moment. Now I know that he knew what you were doing. There was not much that would escape his sharp mind.- You don't know how far I'd go to ease this precious ache end you don't know how much I'd give or how much I can take. Just to reach you…

 -Ready? - He asked you suddenly ending your quiet singing. He looked troubled. You nodded and went to meet him to get back. Your patrol had ended. When they were at a distance I saw him lean to your ear and say something to which you shrugged in return.

 I looked back at him. He had one knee on the ground and he was leaning on the tree.It took some time but finally he got up and took some time to move. I suspect he was making up his mind about something.

 As you know I am quite tall and most of the time it takes some effort to be hidden well from all angles, but in my last years I had leaned well how to do so. I had sat among some leafy bushes between two trees.These bushes protected me from all sides. I was lucky they did as he did not walk in the same direction in which he went when he left the earlier times. He walked past me along the Western side of the grounds due North and I could see he was too distracted to notice me in my hiding spot. There was resolve and purpose in his steps and there was fire in his shinning crimson eyes. It was as if life had once again entered his being.

 If I was correct he was trying to get to your room that overlooked the central gardens and he had to get past the stables and the guards to do so. He seemed to have a very detailed outline of the castle and the location your room. I supposed then he had been in there before as a guest, but if he was an ally why hide from view? Had he done something to fall out of grace with the Order?

He hesitated before going past the stables and I soon understood why. I could hear the beasts grow restless as if sensing his presence. I heard Gerome talking to Minerva and asking why she was behaving this way. He stopped and listened for the hero’s presence. Indeed Gerome came out and talked to the guard who agreed to search for the source of the unrest. While they were at it the stranger had gone past the guards and crossed the grounds towards the entrance to the inner gardens. He was as agile and stealthy as a ninja.

  I decided then to come out of the shadows and let them think it had been me all the while the source of the beasts unrest. I knew if the stranger did something against you it would have been all on me, but I was sure I could stop him if it was necessary.

They saw me and asked me what I was doing, but a look in their direction shut them up. They knew who I was and I felt no need to explain myself to no one in any case. Lucky for me the stranger was already gone inside and had not heard the exchange. Once in the garden I too took to the shadows and surveyed the place. The gardens are vast as you well know and it took me a long time to locate my target. I found him by some rose bushes near the entrance to the entrance to the room complex where your room was located. He sneaked past the door and on to the side of the building until he came to the side of the camellia tree surrounded by laurels just under the balconies of your rooms. As expected there was no light in your room,nor the the prince’s. Instead of climbing up he waited in the shadows of the trees.

  I don’t know if you remember coming out to your balcony that night. Your light came on and after a while you came out of the room. You stayed there a while looking sadly at the gardens. He came out of the shadows to look at you and the soft and deep whisper of his voice reached me. I could not make out everything he said but I heard something like “… is the sun(1).” and as he talked to himself he quietly questioned if he should speak to you, light in the prince’s room went out. You went inside then. After a while he went out again and after looking over for prying eyes he climbed the wall to your balcony. By then I suspect you were asleep.He peeked inside and opened the door, but before going inside he paused unsure of his actions. He tried leaving but again he could not resist and opened it again and went inside. I was ready to climb and tear him apart if he was doing something untoward but just was soon as he went inside he had come out. He took out a flower he had taken from the garden and left it on the rail of the balcony…then he took it again and squished it in his hand. I found out later that he had placed a single kiss on your forehead and it had taken all of his will power not to spend the night watching you sleep.

 He sneaked out then and I did not follow. There were so much I needed to think about that night. Not only about the stranger but about what I had heard you say. That night I decided to give it a chance and try the potion I knew you would offer. The first thing I did that morning was take a bath in the gelid waters of the river that ran close to the tree house. I still feel shame about this but my logic was that by not being inviting to the senses I felt safer. It was an extra shield for me and if it made my enemies fear me then it was for the better.

   Knights later when it was again your turn to patrol I learned the prince was not going to be available to accompany you. I knew there were plenty heroes who would want to go patrolling with you, including my other selves who were very protective of you and the Fell Dragon whom you and Alfonse had almost adopted (2). I did not even offered to go out with you since I was ready to watch from the shadows and I wanted to see what the stranger would do now that you were alone.

   I watched over you from the beginning of your patrol. Even when stood outside in the garden looking up at the prince’s balcony and threw a small stone at the glass door, even knowing he would not be in there. I went to my spot near the clearing. Now with a cleared mind after taking the potion you had offered me it was easier to make better choices. I could not believe I had let him go so far as to get inside your room the nights prior. I was thinking of confronting him tonight and I was in for a big surprise when you appeared in the distance.

   The stranger had been waiting in the same place as before. Looking at him and knowing you were alone made wish he would not be wearing that mask. I knew by the glowing in the mask that part of his face was made from the same matter as his chest and I was not only curious to see his facial bones but mostly his expression when he saw you coming.

   Then you came and waited for the guards to report and stayed for a while writing down something on a small book. When the figures of the guard were gone you put the book inside your coat pocket and turned to fave the tree line. Unknown to me you had come earlier with Alfonse and had searched for signs that would let you know if he had come. Alfonse had found the scratches in the tree and so you knew where he would be hiding.

   You started walking towards us not knowing I was also hiding nearby. He seemed to panic for a second when we heard you speak. They were the lines of a poem I only remember but little.

 - “ Stay Shadow of my shy treasure. Image of the charmer I love best. Fair dream for which I die with joyful breast. Illusion sweet for which I live in pain…”

   He steps back and a shaky “No” leaves him, but he is now frozen in place as your figure enters the line of trees. You were guided by the sign of the scratches he had left on the tree so many nights ago.

 -“ It matters not that you slip through chains and embrace… when fantasy builds a prison just for you.” (3) - Now that you were standing just in front of him, his demeanor changed. It is as if he was steeling himself to fight. A fight I guessed then, that was against his feelings and one that was already lost.

 -Those words should be saved for Alfonse and I am not him.

 -You came to visit the other night.- You tell him, dismissing his words. He keeps quiet a moment.

 -I had an invitation. One you should not have given lightly.

 -I am glad you took it. I’ve wish to see you for a while…and I had thought it had been a sweet dream.

 -Why? I almost killed you and Alfonse. You should fear me and stay away from me.

 -I do not blame you for that; and it was you who saved us all in the end. I owe you everything.

 - It wasn’t just me who…

 -Alfonse please!

 -Don’t…not anymore...- He starts to say but your head leans on the glowing chest he had failed to keep covered. His arms jerk forward as if to embrace you, but he keeps them away.

 Until this point I had been confused by this interaction. Your words had been meant for a lover and I had thought you loved only Alfonse. Anger was beginning to seep into my heart. I had thought you better than so easy to flirt with another. Flirting while having a love so heartfelt and pure as the prince’s. Then hearing you say his name with such love made the truth sink in. You had talked about another Askr and that there was someone who had helped you defeat Hel called Lif. If this young man was the person that helped you and his real name was Alfonse and this meant that this man was that Askr’s prince Alfonse. All the pieces to my puzzle now fit perfectly. Now I understood how he new everything so well in the castle. It had been his home.

 -Can only Thrasir call you that now?

 Your words held no reproach, but his answer came in the form of his left hand caressing your head. His battle was truly lost.

 -I have words for him as well. Love and Innocence being some of them. Sometimes I feel I am polluting him.- There is a smile and fondness in your statement.

 -You think him pure…when he worships your memory every night before sleep and gilt takes him? Only to dream of you again.- I heard your gasp and your head turns upward to see his face. He does not flinch from your gaze, even after that personal revelation. I take it you understood he had done this as well.

 -You…

 -Every night.- He responds still not flinching. Your face is scarlet red. You lower your dead to his chest again. (4)

 -He…He’s the perfect gentleman with me. He barely touches me. Sometimes I feel like I am back in square one with him, but I don’t want to rush him if he is not prepared for more.

 -Fool…- He says with little venom and he takes to caress your cheek.- Why does he not act on his feelings? Was I this foolish myself? Yes…I lost so much precious, time I could have spent with you…You could both die any minute …has he learned nothing from my past?

 - You kind of told us and I quote "Get close to someone, and the pain of parting will be much more acute. You and Alfonse must remember this."

 -I meant the heroes.

 - I know this, but I think Alfonse took it more seriously. He still think I will go back to my world despite me telling him I will stay.

 -Fool...If only you were mine…- I saw him change again. He let go of you and even tried to repel you.-But you are not…My ______ is gone for ever… I need to go. I should have never come back here. This is not my place and you are not mine.

 -Alfonse…Lif- You change the name when he flinches away from you.

 - There is nothing I can offer you…nothing I can give you…Alfonse…how I envy him…

 -What is it that you think I want from him that you can not give me yourself?

 -...I don’t even have a heart to give you now…- He turns to leave.

 -Time…Time and friendship…That is all I ask…That is all I asked from the beginning.

 -I could never be your friend.

 -Please, I just want to help you…

 -Help me? How? I don’t need your pity or your friendship…I want...-He was about to leave but turns around and looks at you. He slowly takes off his mask and approaches you again. I could see he was waiting for you to flee or to be disgusted. I when I could no even see bone or teeth inside where his jawline would be. Whatever he though you would do however, he did not expect for you to take his face in your hands like it was a precious treasure. -So much more than that…-  He finished in a whisper. Once enthralled by your caress, he leaned over and kissed you.

 That kiss…How I longed then to be touched so lovingly, the way you kissed him then. He barely touched your lips, but you circled his neck with you arms and he deepened it while his arms sough to embrace you by the waist. Your hands tangled in his hair and I imagined how they would feel in mine. The moan of need that left his throat, appeared to have brought him to his senses once again and he let go.

 -I love you…I may not have a heart, but I love you with everything I have and I will continue to love you for ever…But so does he and I will not break his heart. If only one of us can be happy, then let it be him. Happiness was not made for me.

 -I love you too, Alfonse. Whatever form you take…but you are right… it is not his fault and it is not fair for neither of you. Forgive me for my selfishness.

 -Now go before the guards return and raise the alarm…He will be waiting…

 -Where will you go?

 -Does it matter?

 -It matters to me…to us. You can always return here.

 -There is…I have no place here. Now go.

 You sigh, say your farewell and leave. He watches you go and he puts his mask on again after touching his translucent lips with a sigh. After your form is gone from sight he turns and leaves. It may have been my imagination ____, but it seemed to me like his form did not look as somber or sad as before.

   I confess that… I felt jealousy of that love. No only your love for him but his love for you. He loved you beyond death and you loved him beyond appearances. In my life no one had loved me so. Yet you were giving me a part of your heart as Alfonse his friendship and Lif his pain. It had to be enough for me.

    A/N: Since Alfonse is a very intelligent man who loves to read and acquire knowledge, I am sure he asks the Summoner often about all kinds of stuff that the summoner has learned in their world. If the summoner can speak more than one language, he would be asking the summoner how to say  or write different words and phrases because he loves languages as you can see by him being a lost language translator. He remembers much of it because he has nearly perfect memory and loves the summoner very much that he tries hard to remember everything; specially the summoner’s favorite lyrics to songs poems or quotes from different media. Because The summoner does not share his perfect memory many of the quotes are not nearly exact and so I paraphrased quotes because this way the Summoner seems more like our real self who does remember parts of something but can’t access goggle to find the right quote.

  MY summoner is indeed Lif’s summoner as well. When the time line broke apart, she became two but when Lif’s Summoner died her part of the soul returned to the point when the time line broke, memories and all.

 (1) “ What Light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and ____ is the sun.”

“Should I listen for more, or should I speak now?”

Romeo and Juliet.

 (2) I love Grima and sometimes I feel like this dear dragon is still that child who is lashing out after being abused and neglected and knows no better.

 (3) Full Poem.

Stay Shadow of my shy treasure. Image of the charmer I love best.

Fair dream for which I die with joyful breast.

Illusion sweet for which I live in pain.

Your winning graces all my heart enchain,

It follows as the steel, the magnet’s test.

But wherefore you win my love and made me blest.

If thou must mock me, fading soon again.

Yet canst thou never boast, with fullest pride,

That triumphant o’er me is thy tyranny.

For though thou from the dose embrace doest glide.

That held thy visionary form from me,

But fancy builds a prison still for you.

 Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz. Paraphrased in actual text for plot reasons.

 (4) Alfonse taking Lan Zhan words to heart. “ Every night is every night” Lan Wanji Master of Demonic Cultivation XD . Sorry I could not resist.

[mimicteruyo]

The Little Teahouse Around the Corner

[Touhou Ship Week Day 7: Free day. KomaEiki + AkyuSuzu, 2.7k, crack/fluff]

---

If described very charitably, the construction before Eiki and Komachi could have been called a teahouse, exactly as the bamboo plank above the entrance claimed it was. More accurately, it was simply a large tent lit with red lanterns, standing conspicuously close to the Human Village.

"At least it's open?" Komachi eyed the obviously wet paint on the sign, then peered within. "I figured that at this hour, we'd have a choice between grilled lamprey and nothing this close to the village."

"Indeed." Eiki followed Komachi's example. There were certainly plenty of people within, each with a beverage in front of them, but the overall mood in the tent was quietly puzzled. Besides chairs and tables, there was also what looked bafflingly like an oden cart. "Something about this seems wrong."

"No worries, Sis! It ain't anything weird! We're runnin' a perfectly nice temp teahouse!"

They straightened up in unison. The speaker was a calico cat perched on a stool just barely to the side of the tent's entrance, grinning at them. "Lookin' for a cosy place to chat? We've got ya covered!"

Komachi grinned back. "Mike Goutokuji, right? Don't tell me this is your shop."

"It ain't. I'm just workin' here for a bit." Mike's tail swayed gently from side to side as she talked, its many-coloured fur catching the light of the lanterns. "I'm a barker! Which I know sounds really weird since I'm a cat an' all, but I can do the job. For a few days, anyway. Steady work doin' the same thing over an' over again ain't really my thing."

Komachi chuckled. "I know that feel— er."

Eiki chose to ignore the aborted remark. In any case, Mike's plans made it sound as though she was doing precisely what she supposed to do. Losing interest in things and loafing around were some of the chief goals in a cat's life, after all.

"Anyway," Mike curled up her palm. She beckoned three times. "Welcome to the Juniper Teahouse."

The next moment, Eiki found herself within the tent with no memory of stepping inside.

She halted, blinking in the sudden light. There were half a dozen customers within, humans and youkai alike, nursing teacups and expressions ranging from vexed to serene. Although there were multiple chairs for each table, every single customer was solitary. What had looked like an oden cart from the outside was precisely that; no-one appeared to man it, although the occasional bang and tuneful whistle from within it told her that someone was indeed there, just beyond sight.

"Komachi," she began, more puzzled than troubled even as she clutched the Rod of Remorse closer to her chest. "We should keep our eyes—"

It was at that moment that she became aware of a distinct lack of Komachi by her side. Only Mike was there, waving her legs in the air and looking very pleased with herself.

Eiki spun around. "Komachi?"

No answer. No sight of Komachi, either.

Standing by the entrance feeling foolish wasn't going to do anyone much good. Ignoring the slow blink Mike was giving her, Eiki stepped back outside.

And collided with an invisible barrier with enough force to momentarily bounce her off her feet. She staggered back in surprise.

Mike gave her an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Sis." Her tail swished low as Eiki studied her forehead for bumps. "After I've invited ya in, ya've gotta stay a while."

"Is this your ability?" Eiki prodded at the barrier with the Rod of Remorse. It proved as solid and unyielding as a ten-foot block of ice. "What happened to Komachi?"

"She'll be fine," said a familiar voice behind Eiki. "At least, she will be according to what Mike told me. You'll be a better judge of whether it's true or not."

Eiki turned to see a slightly less familiar face smiling at her close to the back of the tent and responded in kind. "I didn't notice you before. May I join you?"

Hieda no Akyuu assented with a nod. She waited for Eiki to take the seat opposite of her before continuing. "I hope you've been well. This present situation expected, of course."

Eiki crossed her hands on the table. "I would say so. The situation in Hell remains both confusing and volatile, but that's to be expected. Has your work progressed well?"

Akyuu took a careful sip from her cup. "It has, thank you. I've kept comfortably busy. And Kosuzu..." Akyuu's smile, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of her previous incarnation, brightened and then immediately dimmed. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I expected her to sit where you sit now." Her smile grew more rueful still. "Especially since she's the one who wished to come here."

"Has this establishment..." Eiki gestured at their surroundings and discovered that she couldn't call them that without correcting herself. "...Tent been here for long?"

"It appeared yesterday. As for me, I have been here for ten minutes. Mike informed me that it takes at least an hour for her invitations to be considered fulfilled."

"That's longer than I had hoped." Eiki frowned at the innocuous-looking exit and Mike, who was currently occupied with a moth circling the lantern nearest to the entrance before turning her attention back to Akyuu. "Can you tell me precisely what's going on in this place?"

"I can explain that!" a muddled but cheery voice called from the bottom of the oden cart.

---

Komachi had walked merrily along for several minutes, taking in the twilight air and seeing if she could get her breath to fog up in the lingering cold from the past winter, when she realised she had at no point decided to take an evening stroll. Moreover, she was now alone, something which was the exact opposite of her plans for the night.

She halted in the middle of the path and turned to look over her shoulder. The greenness of the teahouse tent blended into the evening behind her, but she could still see it when she squinted. Distance of course meant little to her: she could be back there nearly as soon as she decided upon it.

But first, it was best to figure what had happened. It was likely nothing serious: the situation had the feel of a fairy prank to it. Still, the fact that she couldn't actually remember what had passed rubbed her the wrong way.

"Alright..." She adjusted her scythe to rest more comfortably on her shoulder. "What happened here?"

So, there was the weird teahouse, and Mike, who did strike Komachi as bit of a prankster, but who had seemed earnest enough inviting them in. Had Mike addressed her invitation to Lady Eiki alone? No, Komachi was sure it had been extended to them both.

She recalled her only previous encounter with Mike, on a lazy afternoon not that long ago when she had wandered into Gensokyo and struck up a conversation with the cat upon meeting her on the road. Mike had mentioned arriving in Gensokyo not that long ago, having only recently left behind the temple she had been born at, and that due to circumstances she had done so before she had completed her training as a maneki—

"Damn."

At the moment of realisation, Komachi became aware of of running footsteps rapidly approaching her, just in time not to be entirely surprised by someone small but fast-moving crashing into her.

"Ow!" The person who had collided with her tottered back, holding a hand to her nose. Even in the dying light and with half her face covered, she was obviously Kosuzu Motoori. "I'm sorry! I just..."

Kosuzu trailed off. Her eyes travelled first up to Komachi's face, then to the blade of her scythe. She took a startled step back.

Komachi grinned. "No need to fret. You're not dying tonight."

Kosuzu relaxed quickly in that quietly alarming way of humans who made of habit of traipsing too close to the border of the mundane and the supernatural. As her shock drained away, it was replaced by an almost mournful expression, so out of place it was almost comical.

"What's the matter?" Komachi almost began walking to see if Kosuzu would follow, but she had a funny feeling it would only result in Kosuzu crashing into her again. "It's not wise for you to run alone on a dark night like this. Did someone refuse to return your favourite book?"

Kosuzu fidgeted with her sleeves. "No, nothing like that." For a moment, she looked hesitant to speak, but once she did, the words spilled out of her in a tumble. "Actually, it's our anniversary today."

"Whose?"

Kosuzu's cheeks flushed pink. "Mine and Akyuu's."

"Really?" Komachi couldn't help but chuckle. "That's a funny coincidence."

"What is?"

"Never mind." Komachi relaxed her stance. "Let's see if I can guess what happened. Since it was your anniversary, you decided to go out to celebrate."

"That's right."

"And you happened upon a new, strange teahouse."

"Exactly!" Kosuzu halted her eager nodding to blink. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like we're in the same figurative boat."

"Oh." Kosuzu smiled weakly. "I suppose that's better than a literal boat. Um, I mean..."

Komachi laughed. "That'll be another day." Before Kosuzu could become too unsettled, she nudged her head towards the road behind them. "Come on. Let's go find our dates."

---

"Here you go." Suika Ibuki slammed the teacup onto the table with enough force to make half the liquid within leap into the air. Miraculously, not only were both the table and cup undamaged, but the drink returned into the cup without so much as a single drop spilling. She winked. "I'd say it's on the house, but I'm guessing you'd take that for a bribe."

Eiki took the cup gingerly. Seeing its contents in the air had already made it obvious it was filled with anything but tea, but the scent confirmed it. "Is this sake?"

"Well, yeah."

"The sign outside said you're running a teahouse."

"Yeah, yeah. Is there a law saying you can't serve sake in a teahouse?"

Eiki had to concede the point. "Not in Gensokyo, no."

"See? Try it. It's good." Suika turned towards Akyuu. "Care for a refill?"

As Akyuu murmured a demurral, Eiki took a sip from her drink. It was indeed rather good, but that was beside the real matter at hand. She looked up. "Suika—"

Suika had already left the table. Eiki watched her stalk around the tent, grinning as she went, gathering empty cups and refilling others with seemingly no input from the patrons.

"So where was I?" She returned and cheerfully pulled out the remaining seat for herself. If she was discomfited by any lingering memories of the less than auspicious circumstances during which she had last encountered Eiki, she showed no signs of it, instead beaming with the brightness shared by the very innocent and inveterate liars. "A story of some kind?"

"You were about to explain why we can't leave."

"Yeah, that's right. So this teahouse is just a bit of fun. I'll get going as soon as Reimu finds out I've set up shop this close to the village." Suika grinned. "Actually, I think I'll wait for her to show up. It's more fun that way."

Akyuu offered her a polite smile. Eiki pushed her cup aside. "And then you hired Mike?"

"That's right." Suika took Eiki's cup and downed it in a single long swig before continuing. "Of course, I don't really need her to gather customers. I can use my foregathering ability to bring people over just fine. But it feels more like a proper teahouse with an employee, doesn't it?"

"A floor might have a similar effect," commented Akyuu dryly.

"Anyway, since Mike can only invite one person in at a time, I decided to gather people into the area so that even if only half of them got in we'd still have plenty of customers. It worked really well, too. Until people tried to leave. I tried making the people disperse once they got stuck, obviously, but for some reason it only worked on those who hadn't been invited in at all. I'm guessing our abilities got entangled in some mysterious way."

Eiki nodded. "I see."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry. Everyone gets to leave eventually. Even the person stuck for the longest managed to walk out after two hours."

Akyuu set her cup down. "At least one of us may not have to wait for that long." She raised her voice. "Mike?"

Mike, who was no longer paying attention to the moth and was instead swinging her leg back and forth, jerked her head upwards. "What's up, Sis?"

"Can you step out for a moment?"

"Sure." Mike dove out. "Now what?"

Akyuu stood up and nodded at Suika. "Thank you for your hospitality." She gestured at Eiki to join her at the tent's entrance and waited until they were both there before speaking again. "Mike, can you attempt to invite us outside?"

"Oh, I see." Eiki smiled as she grasped Akyuu's intent. "Even if the invitation can only work on one of us, it still means one of us will be free to go."

"I hope you're the one invited out." Akyuu's smile was thin but sincere. "Unnerving as it is being this close to multiple youkai, I have made my peace with waiting here. After all, by remaining in one place I have better odds of re-uniting with—"

"Akyuu!"

They turned to look outside. Kosuzu hovered right behind Mike, bopping her head around in an effort to see past her. Behind her, calm but still curious, stood Komachi. Upon noticing Eiki, she gave her a cheery little wave.

Akyuu's smile immediately warmed to the point where its brightness was a match to the lanterns. "Everything is fine, Kosuzu. It's only a small supernatural obstacle."

Kosuzu gave a distracted nod, then turned towards Mike, looking almost ready to put hands on the cat. "Please invite us in!"

Mike's eyes darted from Komachi and Kosuzu to Akyuu and Eiki and then back. She frowned. "Kay, how about we try somethin' like this?"

She positioned herself in the tent's entrance, one foot in, one foot out. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, she beckoned with both hands. "Welcome!"

The next thing Eiki knew, she had collided with something unyielding but relatively soft.

"Oof." Komachi staggered back, then reached out to steady Eiki. She grinned. "At this rate I'm going to be qualified to work as a roadblock."

Back on her feet, Eiki looked around. She was outside again, with Komachi's hands on her arms and the tent securely behind. "Who knows how far I would have walked if you hadn't stopped me. Thank you for catching me."

"Did you ever doubt I wouldn't?"

Eiki smiled back at her. "No. I didn't."

They looked back. Within the tent, Kosuzu was clinging to Akyuu's arm, speaking rapidly but too quietly for any discernible words to make it outside the tent. Mike was watching them from her perch, smiling with self-satisfaction.

"Well, that worked out great." Suika came to the entrance, beaming as though Mike's success was hers as well. "Must be fate." She winked. "And don't worry about paying. The drink was on the house after all."

Given that most of the drink remained in the house, Eiki found little cause to complain. "Thank you." She frowned. "Don't invite more people in until you have understood what causes this. Consider—"

"Yeah, sure." Suika made a sweeping wave. "Have a good night!"

She retreated back into the tent. Only Mike remained near the entrance, still pleased with herself.

"That didn't exactly work out, huh?" said Komachi, smiling all the while.

"Yes, I suppose it didn't." Eiki watched Akyuu and Kosuzu retake the table Akyuu had previously occupied, smiling at each other all as though they were the only two people in the world. "But it doesn't seem to have done any harm, either. Should we consider the grilled lamprey stand?"

"Funny. I was just thinking I was in the mood for some fried fish." Komachi let go to adjust her scythe, which had nearly fallen from her shoulder in the collision, then held out her hand. "How about we go see what else fate has in store for us tonight?"

And so they did, continuing down the road together, filled with newfound appreciation for the beauty of spring nights.

[felipeandletizia]

Pandemic days in La Zarzuela

Jesus Rodriguez - May 23, 2020 (Source)

This is the chronicle of how the crisis of covid-19 has been lived in the Headquarters of the State, of the challenge of being King in exceptional times. And also two and a half months of home confinement for a married couple with two daughters.

This April has been one of the rainiest in Madrid. Nature is in all its splendor. The path that leads from the first security control of La Zarzuela to the palace appears bordered by splendid vegetation and by deer that pass slowly. Here apparently nothing ever changes. But at the entrance of the Headquarters of the State it is already detected that it is not the same. The circumspect civil guards are covered with masks and black latex gloves. The identification is given to the agent with the arm to the maximum of its extension to maintain social distance. The gray hybrid car that transports you from that surveillance point to the heart of the royal complex, hidden in the immense mount of El Pardo, owned by National Heritage, incorporates methacrylate partition walls. The quiet, uniformed driver who doesn't open his mouth at the slightest attempt at a chat, wears his mask tight, almost to the point of cutting his breath.

We circulate slowly and alone in an environment that produces drowsiness. Four kilometers later, almost at the end of the route, you can see the tiles of the King and Queen's house hanging on a promontory one kilometer from the palace between the tops of the trees. It is the most invisible property within the invisibility that prevails in this place. The most hermetic place in La Zarzuela. It is never used for official acts. Just for some timid recording of their daily life. It is intended to be a home in which a family of four lives. Even more so in times of pandemic. They assure in this place that its inhabitants "are very respectful of the recommendations of the authorities, and in this case that means that grandparents, cousins ​​and other family members stay each in their own homes."

A family that has been confined since March 13 with minimal and well-considered official departures (only ten, of which five have been carried out by the King alone until May 20 and one by the Queen alone, to the Red Cross). That gets up at 7.30 and eats after two in the afternoon. And where each of its members faces in this strange time the mission entrusted to them, whether by the Constitution, by life or by their age: meeting with the Prime Minister (today is Tuesday, meeting day, and they will meet through videoconference, as usual during the entire crisis); support, by the Queen through videoconference with a brain damage foundation or, in the case of their teenage daughters, carry out their education with the school closed since March 11, but connecting with it from the first hours of the morning. Without any extra school help, but with their parents trying to help them out on English homework, a text commentary, or a story presentation. And a mother who ensures that they are not hooked to the tablet all day and read books and even immerse themselves in the kitchen. Something that the youngest daughter, Sofía, loves.

It is a family that talks a lot, goes to bed early and, if there are no setbacks, ends the day with a movie. Every night one of its members chooses the title. It is a battle between movie fans: a daughter bets on the sagas of Marvel and Star Wars; another, for dramas and science fiction; the father, for the action and the thrillers. And the mother plays the role of intellectual trying to suggest more cultural titles. It is not always imposed.

Someone who knows them recounts their state of mind during this time of pandemic and isolation: “Like all families in this country, in these two long months they have been (and are) closer together than ever. Father, mother and daughters. Alone. With the same feeling that is being experienced in all the houses of this country: of greater union, of being a team, of moving forward. And the same uneasiness as the rest, given the circumstances that were lived during these 10 weeks."

Especially sad moments have passed, such as when the dramatic situation of the elderly in some residences came to light: “It left them with deep despondency and sadness. That bitter sensation and that lump in their throats lasted a long time.” Those were the days, at the beginning of April, when more than 900 deaths were counted each day. And many hospital directors from all over Spain explained to them day and night by videoconference, on the field, in real time, that they were having a hard time, that they had a thousand daily incomes; they were overwhelmed. And yet, they say in La Zarzuela, these people talked to them with integrity and the best of their spirits. And they asked them to fight for "primary care" in the future.

During this time, the King and Queen have spoken with more than 50 hospitals in all the autonomous communities. Long talks that have provided them with a very precise map of the evolution of the pandemic by time and territory. And without filters. The King, the Queen, their interlocutors and a notebook. None of those calls have been recorded.

Before reaching our destination, we cross a stone bridge over the almost overflowed by the Trofa stream. Here is another checkpoint. This time, in charge of the Royal Guard. There are far fewer guards than at other times. Much of its 1,500 troops no longer honor each ceremonial step of the King; they are on the street, disinfecting residences and fighting coronavirus in Operation Balmis as decided by Felipe VI on March 23 during an interview with Defense Minister Margarita Robles. And a few days later he did the same with the members of the Security Service of the Headquarters of the State, composed according to various sources (because the King's House does not provide data) of more than 300 escorts, police and civil guards.

When the King sent his guard and bodyguards to work against the virus, he tried to send a message of solidarity within the framework of the policy of gestures with which the Spanish Monarchy communicates, an institution that rarely issues statements and hardly ever claims or denies. The Jemad, General of the Air Miguel Ángel Villarroya, declared in a martial tone on March 23 that with that act "the King proved to be the first soldier in Spain." He was wrong. What Felipe VI was trying to demonstrate with that decision, as with all of these months of crisis (people he has seen, words he has uttered, world political and economic leaders with whom he has interviewed, hospitals he has called, consultations that he has made to scientists, requests that he has communicated to businessmen), is that he is next to the people. His great concern is the "day after"; the problems that this pandemic is going to cause among the most disadvantaged citizens when it all ends.

A source from his environment explains: "He has analyzed a thousand and one times how it could be valued what so many entities are doing in the face of the impoverishment of thousands of people who were already very vulnerable and will see their ability to get ahead even more hindered. And see what he could do as Head of State in the face of the tragedy of those self-employed who did not receive their full salary in March, nor have they received in April and are waiting for May. And all those who await their ERTE.” As someone who knows the King well says: “From the moment he opens his eyes until he closes them, he doesn't stop thinking and scheming how, with the tools he has, he can make things go better for the Spanish. And it does not do so for personal or political interest. But out of a sense of duty. It is his job. It is his life ”.

The final destination of the tour of this immense farm where La Zarzuela is located ends in the Magnolias building, a 2,600-square-meter brick construction that was designed in 1987. Here is the structure of direct support for the head of state, connected to the palace by a tunnel and a staircase. The King's office is three minutes away. Magnolias is like the Semillas at La Moncloa, which houses the President's Cabinet, its nervous system. In La Zarzuela there are a hundred people, many career officials, and with an abundance of military and civil guards, who manage their agenda, write their speeches, prepare their visits, answer their mail, attend to the media, inform, advise and help make the most serious decisions. And, above all, they work on the relationship between La Zarzuela and La Moncloa. Two constitutional legitimacies forced to understand each other. They are the most hermetic officials of the Spanish Administration. They measure their words to the millimeter. At the head of this team is the harsh 64-year-old State lawyer Jaime Alfonsín, who has been working with Don Felipe since the now King was in his twenties. The average age of that team is 61 years old. Most have done their entire careers here.

The Magnolias building is quieter than ever. At the entrance, two gatekeepers in white jackets and military shoes as mirrors solicitously open the doors. Beyond, a cold semi-darkness of empty rooms, a pretentious decoration of Madrid's upper class and a sepulchral silence. No voices or footsteps are heard. Less than a third of the King's team is in place. The rest have been teleworking since March 13. La Zarzuela is in the box.

However, the head of the House, the secretary general and the six most involved directors (among them, Protocol, Coordination and Communication) are here. They arrive at eight in the morning. At nine they have the first meeting. And with the digital press summary prepared by the House already read. This daily meeting is a novelty, before it was only done on Fridays.

Their boardroom is quirky: a huge room with chandeliers and marble flooring with enough space to stay within the statutory social distance. They sit in a circle on uncomfortable Empire-style chairs. The agenda of the previous day is analyzed, the current one is reviewed and the following one is prepared. They eat from the machine. Not everyone sees the King daily. Alfonsín is the only one who dispatches with him every morning. He's the link with the director of the President's Cabinet and the secretary general of the Presidency. It is in La Moncloa where all the words of the King and Queen are given the go-ahead or "edited", however harmless they may seem, because "it cannot be forgotten that this is the Head of State." In the case of Felipe's message during the referendum crisis in Catalonia on October 3, 2017 nobody touched a comma in the La Moncloa from the Rajoy era.

On March 13, at 15:15, President Pedro Sánchez addressed an audience of 18 million spectators with these words: “Today, I have just communicated to the Head of State the celebration, tomorrow, of a Council of Extraordinary ministers to decree the state of alarm throughout our country”. There were 120 dead.

That afternoon the alarms went off in La Zarzuela. The situation was complex. There had been no national crisis of this magnitude since the Civil War. There was no road map. How should a Head of State who reigns but does not govern face a health, economic and social crisis of such magnitude? What should be his agenda? Should he go out? Should he address the Spaniards? Should he preside over the Councils of Ministers? Should he be involved in any activity? Does he have to intrude? Who does he have to talk to and who does he not? Does he need to appear with his family? Does his consort have to show up making cookies with their daughters? How would each action he takes be politically and socially interpreted? How does he get no one to complain? How to achieve a territorial, sectoral, political, cultural and opportunity balance in all of his actions, initiatives and audiences?

On March 13, the King's House (and the King himself) lacked an instruction manual. And it was not the best time for the Spanish Monarchy either. For years it had been hanging over Felipe VI and the institution the finances of his father, the King Emeritus, Juan Carlos de Borbón, 82 years old. For a long time, the relationship between father and son has not been the best possible. The last time they saw each other in public was during the funeral of the Infanta Pilar, on January 28, in El Escorial. They were in mourning. His greeting was protocol. And the old King looked out of the corner of his eye, his head down, lost, as his son, the Head of the State, walked away from him coldly.

The week before the declaration of the state of alarm, just when the dripping of infected people and deaths began and the situation began to be out of control for the Government, the King and Queen did not stop. Especially, the Queen. Reviewing the images of those days knowing what we know today about the COVID-19 causes amazement. Not an act was removed from their schedule. Not even a trip to Paris on March 11 that the French president, Emmanuel Macron (the couple's personal friend), did not want to suspend: at the gates of the Elysée, they greeted each other without handshakes or kisses. All the King and Queen's appearances that week were massive. An act with the ambassadors of the Marca España in the old palace of El Pardo; a women's soccer final riddled with screams and sweat in a packed sports hall in Salamanca (the same day as the questioned feminist 8-M demonstration); a meeting overflowing with attendees with the Spanish Federation of Rare Diseases ... And all trying to photograph, touch and hug them. The usual landscape.

But it was March 6 that gave the most. And lit the wick of the following events in La Zarzuela. Doña Letizia met that morning in the Uned classrooms, in the heart of the Lavapiés neighborhood, in Madrid, with the professionals of the Association for the Prevention, Reintegration and Attention to Prostituted Women (Apramp), an NGO which she had already called to La Zarzuela in June 2018 and with whom she maintains close contact.

That morning riddled with photographers had an added morbid: its "minister of the day" was Irene Montero, holder since January of the Ministry of Equality and leader of Podemos, a party very critical of the Monarchy. Would there be blood? Would there be a photo? The working meeting was held behind closed doors with Montero side by side with the Queen. It was long. Everything flowed. When they left, according to someone who was there, “they said goodbye with the usual kiss that the Queen gives in cases similar to the ministers, secretaries of state or general directors who attend. It had begun to be suggested in official media that perhaps it would be good to avoid kisses and handshakes (that day there were already five deceased), but neither of them dared to stop doing it, because it was going to be interpreted as an unpleasant gesture by one to the other and vice versa. Something that did not happen and has never happened between the King and Queen and the ministers, no matter the sector or the party they are. Everything always happens within the constitutional correction. It is their job. And then behind the cameras there may be more or less cordiality, but always absolute correction, starting with Podemos,” they assure.

Six days later, on Thursday, March 12, the bomb exploded. La Moncloa announced early in the morning that Minister Irene Montero had tested positive for the coronavirus. And the most difficult days of Felipe VI's reign began. In just six years, he has had to deal with four general elections (two of them repeated), eight rounds of consultations with political leaders, the motion of censure against Mariano Rajoy, a weak coalition government with one of its partners resistant to the Monarchy and the endless secessionist process in Catalonia. Without forgetting the trial and prison of his brother-in-law Iñaki Urdangarinand the continuous information on his father's activities, with private accounts in tax havens and income of dubious origin. These two more personal matters, Felipe de Borbón would be forced to face them as Head of State and not as a member of a family.

In January 2015, six months after his proclamation, he had already drafted a rigid regulation on the gifts that members of the royal family could receive, which stated in its article 6: “They will not accept loans without interest or with interest lower than the normal market, or gifts of money. In the latter case, it will be returned or donated to a non-profit entity that pursues purposes of general interest." From that moment the estrangement would come with his sister Cristina (to whom he revoked the title of Duchess of Palma in June 2015) and from his own father.

It has not been an easy reign for Felipe de Borbón. And nobody anticipates that things will improve. Journalists investigating the finances of the King Emeritus in Spain, Switzerland and the United Kingdom confirm that things will continue to come to light. They also have it very clear in that home in La Zarzuela. And that any action by Felipe VI as Head of State will be overshadowed by that judicial situation.

On the same morning that Montero was positive, the military doctor from La Zarzuela performed the test for the new coronavirus on the King and Queen. They did not have the results until early on March 13. Neither of them tested positive. However, it was decided that the Queen would keep two weeks of quarantine at her home, not isolated, but without leaving home or interacting with anyone from outside for two weeks, until the 26th, in case it was a false negative. She fulfilled it to the letter. During that time, she did not even go down to her official office in La Zarzuela, where she arrives every morning at nine. It is in an adjoining room, bright, white and minimalist, where she holds the videoconferences. By mid-May, she had already completed more than 60 within what she calls her specialization: culture, society, dependency, sexist violence, cancer, rare diseases, food and childhood. They last around an hour. "There is no protocol required in them other than politeness."

But between March 12 and 16 there was not a single event on the King and Queen's schedule. The King also did not leave the limits of the El Pardo mountain until his surprise visit, with no press called, to the field hospital of Ifema on May 26th. However, on the 13th he had already put himself in “virus mode”, started to make calls and was totally immersed in the crisis, a state of mind from which he has not escaped. “He keeps in constant contact with all kinds of people linked to the management of the pandemic, wherever they are. Today, at home, the virus is talked about at all hours. They are the only conversations their daughters listen to.”

On March 14 Spain closed. And also appeared published in the British press, in The Telegraph, the exclusive that Felipe VI was beneficiary of one of the foundations created in tax havens by his father with a patrimony of 65 million euros, apparently from Saudi Arabia. His team at La Zarzuela knew that information was about to come out. This was confirmed by journalists from The Telegraph and EL PAÍS (who had been months behind the subject) by email; they wanted to know the King's answer. But La Zarzuela did not answer. Why? "Because it was a judicial matter that we could not enter. And because there was no documentary evidence; not a bank paper, income or account to confirm it. They preferred to wait”. At La Zarzuela they always take their time. They say that its rhythm is more like that of the Vatican than that of the White House. Even if it is in theoretically banal matters. For example, the decision that the Princess of Asturias and her sister, the Infanta Sofia, briefly read passages from Don Quixote on camera on April 23 to commemorate Book Day took five weeks.

That Saturday of breaking news, March 14, La Zarzuela's team had to change plans on the fly and write an extensive and harsh statement that same afternoon of four pages that would be released to the public on the afternoon of Sunday 15 (the second day of confinement and when 288 deceased were already counted), in which Felipe VI disassociated himself from the activities of his father (who he claimed to be unaware of), resigned to his economic inheritance (also in the name of his daughter), placed the King Emeritus outside the administrative and legal umbrella of the Royal House and withdrew the official allocation of 194,232 euros per year. The statement concluded with this statement by don Juan Carlos: "That of the two foundations previously mentioned at no time did he provide information to HM the King." The elaborate formal and legal drafting of the text indicated that it had been prepared in sufficient time. For about a year, La Zarzuela had been aware of what was coming through the mouth of the British lawyers of Corinna Larsen, the old friend of Don Juan Carlos.

Why was this statement issued coinciding with the start of the confinement and on a Sunday? "As soon as we had documentary evidence of the accusations of the British newspaper, we could not leave for a second the slightest doubt that Felipe VI was the beneficiary of these accounts; it was necessary to act without delay; there could be no shadow on his conduct; that news could not be for a second on the internet without a response from the King”, explain his collaborators. "Why did we get it out that day and not a year earlier? Because until that weekend we did not have the documentary certainty of those accusations, a year before we lacked that documentary confirmation”.

That Saturday the King made the decision to publicly disassociate himself from any matter that related him to his father and that could be questioned, as he had already done privately a year earlier, on March 12, 2019, before a Madrid notary, exposing his intention to renounce the inheritance of Juan Carlos de Borbón at the time he passed away (now legally he cannot). Those dubious financial actions do not enter the head of Felipe VI. They go against his vision of the world and the “Monarchy renewed for a new time” that he has tried to build since his proclamation on June 2014.

On Wednesday, March 18, there were 598 deaths. At five in the afternoon a meeting of the King with the President began in the audience room of La Zarzuela; the ministers of Health, Defense, Interior and Transport and their deputies, the Coronavirus Technical Management Committee. It was intense. It lasted until after 7:30 p.m. The King concluded it with just enough time to run down to the Magnolias room and, without changing his tie, record a message to the nation, with no time to repeat, that would be broadcast at nine at night. The Queen and her daughters did not accompany him on this occasion. They were confined.

It was not the King's best speech. Not even gestually. It was witnessed by 14.6 million people. He and his team thought about referring in the text to the affairs of his father, Don Juan Carlos. They decided not to. There was not the slightest mention, to the perplexity of many citizens. "There was no attempt to hide anything," responds a member of the Casa del Rey, "but there was no point in talking about the King Emeritus in the context of a terrible health emergency, especially when he had done so immediately, extensively and firmly in the statement three days before. There was not anymore to say. And even more so when it is a judicial matter. On March 18, the Head of State talked to the country to give his encouragement against the pandemic and to tell the Spaniards that he was by their side. Not to talk about his father's problems."

The total activation of La Zarzuela in times of crisis did not arrive until March 26. That day the King went to Ifema, the Queen began her video conferences and a complex agenda of contacts and initiatives was launched. Dozens of calls and videoconferences with all sectors. Absolutely everyone. And meetings with 16 ministers (although it took more than a month to receive the first of Podemos, Manuel Castells, in La Zarzuela). Always with the idea of ​​having their own and direct information about what was happening in Spain and sharpen the shot. The utility of those actions of the King is difficult to specify. You never know if they are of any use. Because it is, as a person in his environment explains, “a job that involves being a link, generating trust, mediating, cooperating and weaving complicities to solve the problems of 48 million people. And to do it with a rectitude and exemplary that for this King is not negotiable”.

According to another person in his environment, "this work has a lot of soft power”. A parallel diplomacy that consists of having quick and direct access to the most powerful on the planet, Amancio Ortega, Jack Ma (the Chinese millionaire owner of Alibaba Group), the president of Huawei or Microsoft. And also to all the monarchs in the world (they have spoken with the majority, from the Queen of England to the Emperor of Japan or the sovereign of Morocco). Or to chat with Donald and Melania Trump in a long and intense conversation on April 1 in which the President of the United States did not stop questioning the King and Queen about the confinement and closure of economic activity; between maintaining business and the need to avoid spreading the virus. It was his concern. And, by the way, it unlocked the sale to Spain of a hundred respirators, at a time when there were already 4,500 deaths from covid-19 in the United States and they could be needed there.

Not everything is based on planetary relationships with ministers and statesmen. One of the great concerns of the King and Queen is, at this time with the curve of contagions and deaths in free fall, "the sustainability of the groups that work with the most disadvantaged and help them to have something of quality in their lives, for example, in matters of gender violence. If the subsidies and aid and the talks with the autonomous communities of the organizations of the third sector are interrupted, what will become of them? ”They ask themselves in the surroundings of the Queen. That is their job. Be helpful. Although they may not always have it easy.

[cyrusharper]

twinkle

if god and the devil, allah, the fates with their gossamer red strings that stretched the lives of men beyond their mortal eyes, should ever deign cyrus harper worthy of the choice of where to spend however many years he has left on this earth, he thinks he might very well pick this very spot.

underneath the blanket of the summer stars, aboard the boat that he and roimata had dedicated three entire summers to repairing, with the man—his best friend, his very own personal polaris fallen into the sea and given form, by his side.

“it is not that life ashore is distasteful to me.” sir francis drake had once written, cyrus had once read and then declared to his mama, with puffed out chest and the wistful glance of a seasoned theater actor towards the sea that beat placidly against the kentish coast. “but life at sea is better.”

neither of them have really felt the need to speak, since they’d pushed off from shore—they both speak the language of waves as a native tongue, and they both know that the language of the sea is more eloquent than the words they’ve been clumsy with since they were children, growing towards each other like saplings in two opposite sides of the earth. and while the silence sits comfortable and warm like the summer breeze that carries them, it has also left him with little to do than obsessively document the parts of the boat with his eyes, or to let them find their way like the needle of a compass to his companion.

its not the first time he’s considered the idea that roimata might be attractive.

he has eyes—always has, and it’s difficult to deny the evidence, like the known continents that do not move or drift on the surface of the map. he is tall, sits against the backdrop of the night sky like the imposing spar of an old exploration vessel. he smiles in an easy way that has always left cyrus feeling like a sail unfurling against a sudden strong wind, and as he pulls on the ropes and guides the boat underneath their feet with ease, it’s difficult for cyrus to tear his eyes away from the way the muscles in his arms move underneath the thin layer of skin.

has he always wanted to feel that movement underneath the palm of his hand?

did Jason board the argo and wonder if the fire that burned with in him was the divine need to take his ship over the borders of the known world, or the divine certainty that it should have been his beloved theseus next to him?

does it matter?

he comes to stand next to roi on the starboard side, where the man has momentarily paused his flurry of activity to gaze at the heavens above them. the moon, the stars, the not quite black sky—they all cast him in a pearlescent glow.

“I’ve never understood the insistence on adhering to the grecian constellations.” he says quietly, because he is bravest when he is hiding behind the words of others, when he is easily lost inside the larger context of landscape. he grins as he comes to stand on the edge, clutching the same rope as he points to a particular cluster of stars. “see the dog right there? in romania they call that the mastiff. over there,” he moves his hand again as though he could command the sky like an astrolabe. “mama says in iran they call orion the giant.”

a giant made from the stuff of stars to blaze above the inhospitable desert, the only love of the cold virgin goddess flung into the heavens, or perhaps like the inuit people liked to it, two stars placed far apart--somehow roimata has always been all of these things.

he meets roi’s gaze, feels color rise to his cheeks even in the dark. the other man doesn’t answer any of cyrus’s information—he never does—he just smiles, nods his head as though he can’t believe cyrus manages to keep every aspect of the world he has devoted himself to contained within the fragile frame of his own bones. when they were younger, before cyrus learned to negotiate the teeth of the hungry thing that made its home in the pit of his stomach, his gaze had always been elsewhere—there had always been the line of the horizon to taunt him, the promise of more, more, more singing in the air like the song of a siren.

now, he looks back.

and jason, francis drake, the explorer who has not yet made his name, looked across the deck and saw his best friend standing with his face towards the sea--and he loved them both without ever having to speak the words, did he not? He had not been able to name such things because they were one in the same, two sides of a gleaming spanish dubloon dredged up from the depths of a wreckage, two points of light attached by an invisible line in the summer sky.

cyrus misses roi’s response entirely, and so silence falls between them again. only this time, cyrus does not allow it to settle--for it is better to have the remains of love, the bright dust and particles of it strewn across the sky in stars, than to be forever memorialized as two stars far apart. for it is better by far for the explorer to seize upon bravery when he feels it materialize in the marrow of the bones of his spine, than to drink it down like bitter seawater.

“do you remember, that summer after you first arrived?” he smiles, tries to mirror the same gentle expression he had caught on the face before him. it’s easier, in practice, than he had ever thought it would be. “we hauled this thing to my parents garage, because tamati wouldn’t let you keep it at yours--it was barely a frame then.”

he digs a fingernail into the surface of the wood gently, picking at some of the flaking paint they’d spent hours applying in careful strokes--only to end up with as much of it on themselves as on the surface they were meant to be coloring. “we nicked the gin from my dad’s stash, ended up wasted because neither of us knew yet that we couldn’t hold it worth shit.”

he takes a tentative step closer, moves his hand down the length of the line so that their hands are close enough to feel heat, but not yet touching. roi looks up at him, and cyrus is struck with that feeling again--white canvas spreading like birds wings, a sudden gaining of speed. “are we really going to talk about it? if you don’t want--”

cyrus interrupts him, moves his hand down the line the final few centimeters so that while roimata clutches the rope, cyrus clutches his hand. “i kissed you--i really wanted to, and i didn’t know why. thought it might have been the gin getting to me, maybe i was just realizing that i liked blokes as well as girls and projecting on you.”

roi raises an eyebrow, but does not move. like orion, like theseus, like the line between the two stars, he stands firm. “mate, what are you getting at? it’s something that happened years ago, that we never talked about. why are you bringing it up now?”

cyrus spares one last glance at orion, at the giant, at the two stars of his arm forever pulling apart from one another, before he presses his mouth against roi’s. thinking back on it later, he’ll wish it had been more of a gentle thing, something that spoke more than words ever could have about how much the other man meant to him--but in the moment it seems fitting. cyrus harper has never been a gentle creature--heroes, explorers, restless hearts like the one that beats like a war-drum inside of his chest, aren’t tender creatures by nature.

besides, he thinks as he pulls away after a small eternity has passed, after the earth has rotated to come back to the same place they began. he has time to figure it out, to put names to the new configurations of bodies and stardust and blue velvet night sky--the only thing that matters is the way that roi laughs, the way that he pulls cyrus from his position of standing on the railing of the boat into his arms to try again. and again, and again, and again.

“great things,” sir francis drake had once wrote, and cyrus harper will soon repeat against the lips of his best friend, the two of them firmly tangled in sheets, the window of cyrus’s apartment thrown open to let the summer breeze lazily filter through the room, send chills down bare flesh. “have small beginnings.”

[stranded-stray]

a theory connecting minecraft to the real world

As we all know Minecraft doesn't have much in the way of official lore, but what bits and pieces they do provide is enough to tie together one heck of a crackpot theory of mine! That's right, I say that Minecraft and our planet Earth are connected.

"But how?" You might wonder aloud, well here's a lot of words to explain my reasoning. Sorry if I ramble or jump around.

Some time ago we left the world of Minecraft behind. Our flexible adaptive tech, our teleportation, our magic, our infinitely expanding empire complete with a Heaven and Hell we knew how to get to. We conquered whole dimensions other than our own overworld. We conquered a wide galaxy of planet after planet that we could live on, with every biome and every creature we could ever imagine. It wasn't enough for our hungry hearts. And so we left, left the entire universe behind. We already conquered one, why not conquer another. The pattern is so obvious in the fights for territory and discovery in our history and future.

And so it all starts from the beginning in a new world, we start all over again. Turns out that inter-universe travel is one heck of a drug. They had to start from square one and evolve their way up to where we are now. In the back of their mind ran thoughts of what they needed to do, how to move up in the world.

Here we are in the present, long since the first people came here. We always still remembered some old place, vaguely. There's always some thought of that home we don't remember ever being on. We were born on Earth, but we feel it deep in our bones. And so someone stepped up and was the first to say how homesick they were. They created a whole program from which to travel back home with. More people sprung up to help with its creation, and more still waited for it to be complete. We want to know what home is like again. It's not just a game, it's a gateway.

I think the end poem supports that in a way. Talking of how the game is a dream from which you must wake up. You aren't home anymore.

When we left our old planets we didn't bother to clean out the universe. We left behind structures and remnants, which gradually wore down as the thousands of years past by. Our old world turned to decay. New species were taking over, magic was harnessed inside the dead to reanimate them. It wasn't exactly the same, but we still knew.

Some of those structures were vital to the program. The player character for example. When we left the universe of Minecraft, we left behind vessels. Beings that were lifeless without some sort of control, robots of sorts. They had modes to toggle on them: hardcore for those who wanted to know the rough of life, survival for those more casual, and creative for those who just wished to explore. The vessel is still the same in any mode, it just determines hardiness and ability. A vessel in creative is invisible to creatures, a vessel in survival can get "hurt" but it never truly dies. It was one of a few pieces of advanced technology we had created.

Same as the world borders. We knew that our hunger to claim was boundless, so we sought to protect ourselves. The world expands beyond it, there's someone else's world on the other side, but you cannot go there so easy.

And even still we knew we would be lonely though too. But when we know that this society can teleport, is it any surprise that a vessel can be summoned to other worlds? Multiplayer worlds, where vessels gather and people meet each other. It really is like we're all home again, isn't it?

By the way, that teleportation isn't useful for just vessels. It does items too. Where do you think the items in that creative inventory come from? You summon them from another world. Those worlds are stripped of their every resource until all that remains is a Superflat. People then take advantage of this barren territory themselves to make their own world from it.

How about those updates? Maybe... They aren't actually updates, in the entire sense of it. The people who make Minecraft are like our explorers, our pioneers. When they discover something, they tell us all what it is. "We found foxes! We found more flowers!" and "We finally remember the process for making glazed terracotta, here look!" Now we all know how to do it. We never noticed these flowers before, we never thought too hard to look for foxes, and we never could remember how to make that terracotta. But now that they mention it? Maybe it's always existed. Mod makers are like mini versions of the game devs. They find things that aren't as often remembered or discovered too. It's just that not as many people listen to them.

Every game of Minecraft, vanilla and modded, from survival test to the 1.14 snapshots and anything beyond, exists in the same universe. They're all different planets within that universal system. When explorers pioneer and show us something new, many flock to new planets to see if they can notice these things there, or check through a planet they're on to see if they find it. But some stick to planets that happen to not have any of those things. Some planets have mod items, some don't. Some are "up to date", some aren't.

But why can't we teleport anymore on Earth? Why aren't we the same anymore? We haven't learned to be the same here. This universe isn't the same universe as our old one. We don't have the same items, the same creatures, the same resources. We don't even have the same shapes and sizes. The secret to teleportation, or interdimensional travel, or many other things might not even be achievable in this universe, but if it is who’s to say that it’s going to be found and used exactly as our old Minecraft universe used?

There are many, many ways to tie the two together, but one thing I think most of mineblr will know is how happy we all feel playing Minecraft. We feel cozy. Calm. At home. And that's because we are, this is where we all once lived. If only we actually remembered how to get back.

[tarithenurse]

I see you - Ch. 10

Pairing: Heimdal x fem!readerContents: the usual fluffy piningA/N: I’m rather distracted this weekend by my hubby finally being able to visit me from his country, so don’t expect a whole lot of action from me.

Ch. 10 – Ain’t no mountain high enough

You can feel the difference the regenerator makes in the healing process. Three days with treatment, but today is going to be without it.

When you’d woken up the first time in Asgard, you’d been wrapped in stiff bandages to support the many broken ribs, and your arm and both legs had been broken in several places (technically one of those places what the hip and not the leg itself, but it hadn’t mattered much then).

Now however, the extra layers that had supported and protected the healing bones were gone. Breathing deeply, you’re finally standing on your own in a proper bathroom without the fear that you’ll collapse all of a sudden.

Three treatments in the cradle. Each one had left you exhausted, your body burning with the heat of electricity, and it had lingered long into the night, making you cranky and draining every bit of energy that wasn’t used for walking back and forth in the room with two healers ready to catch you. When you didn’t do any of that, you slept, only waking up a few times to see that Heimdal was dozing in the chair next to the bed, or that he’d been around, leaving some token behind instead of waking you. First it had simply been a note, saying that her sister was doing well and that he would come by later to entertain her. Another time it’d been a book with old stories and myth of the Asgardian people. Then flowers, strangely familiar and yet alien at the same time.

Today, you say to yourself, today I’ll stay awake. Wriggling out of the light hospital-like gown, you look over at the stack of clean clothes that Frigga has provided you with. There’s no doubt, they’ll be nothing like you owned at home, but you can’t wait to wear them. Anything to be less like a patient and more like a person.

The shower is true to the grandiose style of the city beyond your window. Like a waterfall, it springs from the stone wall, cascading onto you and the marble floor in a soft, warm stream that washes away the last bits of mustiness that had build up under the bandages although they’d been changed frequently. Oh, gods, it’s good. Rubbing your scalp and hair with plenty of shampoo, you realize that a haircut is long overdue. Maybe you will leave it long this time? Change it up, just like your life has been? The possibilities seem endless and the freedom to choose anything makes you smile. All in all, life has taken a turn for the better since you left your hometown. Sure, getting squished by a giant, alien “leviathan” hadn’t been ideal, but you’re alive, recovering well…and you’ve gotten to see more than you could ever have imagined.

Once clean and dry, you dress in what you assume must be Asgardian fashion, to you it could’ve been taken straight from a renaissance fair or a fairy tale. At least the queen has provided you with pants. Tight and made of leather, which seems a bit daring. But it’s much better than having to move around in one of those long dresses the women seem to favour around here. A soft tunic goes over that, and once you’ve wrapped a leather belt around your waist, it’s hard not to nod approvingly at your reflection in the mirror. Lookin’ good.

…

Rechecking that everything is prepared, Heimdal can’t help but feel a bit nervous. The queen had been kind enough to divulge the plan for [Y/N]’s treatment, granting him an opportunity to plan ahead. Ready. With a satisfied smile, he strides off to handle the next phase of the plan.

By the time he reaches the door to the Midgardian’s chamber, an apprehension unlike anything he has felt since he was a young man is hammering inside his chest. He knocks for once, and the answer comes promptly, urging him to enter.

Not sure what to expect, it’s a pleasant surprise to see the woman sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in leather and delicately embroidered linen. The cool purple of the tunic is broken by thin lines of gold and yet…it cannot distract from the glory of [Y/N]’s smiling face and sparkling eyes that greet him unwavering. She’s…exquisite. Sure, the clothes are simple, nothing worth bragging about, so rather it’s the concept of this woman, radiant with life and curiosity, finally not being reduced to simply a patient. Even without having exchanged greetings with her, Heimdal’s sure his plan will be accepted happily.

“Morning, Heimdal.” The woman drops the gaze, picking instead at some invisible speck of dust on the tunic.

She doesn’t see as the Bridge-Keeper smiles at her self-consciousness. “Good morning. It’s a joy to see you free of the infirmary’s dreary gown.”

“It feels good to wear sorta normal stuff.” [Y/N]’s eyes go wide as she realizes what she just said. “I mean…It’s not that it’s not normal! I just…on earth we, y’know…it’s uhm…different and…ehm…and –“

It’s impossible not to let loose a guffaw at the woman’s attempt at recovering from what she thinks it’s a blunder. “Don’t worry, my friend,” Heimdal calms, “I’m well aware of the garments used in Midgard.” Observing as a shy smile erupts, the Bridge-Keeper decides it’s now or never. “Perhaps, if you feel up for it, I could tempt you with an excursion? A skiff has been prepared to take you across the realm of Asgard rather than only watching the world from behind a window…?”

A variety of emotions flutter across the features of [Y/N]: astonishment and delight are pushed aside by something akin to worry, perhaps. The bright smile turns into a frown as she bites softly into the lower lip and the fingers wind themselves in the embroidered border of the linen.

“What is it, my lady?” Heimdal allows himself to take a seat next to her on the edge of the bed, carefully reaching for her hand.

Taking it, delicate fingers trace invisible patterns around his knuckles. “I would seriously, like really, abso-freaking-lutely love to go. There’s so much to discover here and it’s like…like being in a fairy tale. Only it’s real.”

“But…?” Holding his breath, the Guardian of the Bifrost attempts to steal his heart for the worst. After all, why would she care to spend time with him?

How…how do I get to the skiff? I still can’t walk very far yet.” Again, the lower lip falls victim to a soft bite, and Heimdal finds himself wishing it was his lip. “The length of the hallway,” she indicates with a nod towards the corridor beyond the chamber-door, “but then I’m done for.”

Is that it? Expecting her to go on, the Asgardian hesitates, but nothing more comes. “If I’ll have to carry you, to grant you a taste of the world you so keenly have observed, then I will!”

“Oh, no! I can’t let you do tha–“

“[Y/N], there’s no need to fret. Just like on you earth, we have means of transporting people too ill or injured to walk.”

Meeting the [Y/E/C] eyes, he witnesses the decision being made, and his own heart could burst from his chest.

…

Of course! You’re absolutely certain, that you’re the biggest idiot to walk the planet. A people as advanced as the Asgardians are bound to have wheelchairs and what-not. Oddly enough, Idun has so far insisted on ferrying you to and from the cradles in a lying position, so you simply haven’t seen any other means of aid. And lying on he way to an exploration-trip hadn’t seemed like a good idea.

So of course, it doesn’t Heimdal long before he’s arranged a surprisingly stylish set of wheels for you and brings you through the labyrinth of halls and passages until you finally are outside in the sun. Breathing deeply, it strikes you again how clean the air is contrary to that back home…even out in the middle of nowhere, where you used to live. The sound of the city was distant and soothing, unable to overpower the songbirds and myriad of busy insects dancing on the breeze from flower to flower. This is heaven. It really did make sense why the Vikings of old had lived in glorifying hope of going to Valhalla. A morbid thought with a sense of humour as black as the deepest cave makes you quirk a smile, because in a way you (almost) did die in battle like the warriors thought was needed to be taken by the Valkyries to Asgard…and here you are. Difference is that you’re very much alive. The sun warming your skin and the gently win playing with your hair is proof of that. So is the fuzzy jolt that travels through your body as a strong hand rests against your back, urging you to step into the longboat that’s hovering in a waterless channel.

Once settled neatly on board, resting against furs and pillows, Heimdal maneuvers the vessel expertly out of the alien dock and along an invisible path.

“Anywhere particular in mind?”

That voice can also only be from heaven. “All of it?” You answer makes him laugh, honey eyes nearly disappearing in the smile. “I’d like to see what you see when you’re guarding Bifrost. And the mountain inland! And the lake I can see from my room.”

He get’s what you are trying to put into words, and as he navigates through the air, the many stories of the nation and his own youth surface. The intricate pattern in this Asgardian’s life has you criss-crossing fields and rivers, skimming over the treetops of the vast forests, and cruising along herds of deer leaping over the plains that fall and rise like ocean swells. And although each detour has the skiff aimed in a new direction, Heimdal consistently draws nearer to the mountains, the heart of the world. The snow-capped peaks loom tall ahead of you as the upland grows steadily steeper.

“These summits,” with a flourish he indicates the two tallest, “are Kóngurinn and Drottningin.”

Apparently, it means king and queen and are referring to the very first king and his wife. Buri, as the king was called, established Asgard’s dominance and role as a protector or the “Nine Realms”. This is not completely new to you as some of the books you’ve been reading while stuck in bed also covers subjects such as Asgardian history. Still…hearing it from Heimdal is much better and you feel your gaze drawn to him rather than the view. He has a way of oozing contagious interest, each word dripping with a calm confidence.

Enchanting.

There’s no other term to describe how the mesmerizing voice conjures images from the past.

[hookaroo]

A Captain’s Heart (27 of 33?)

Chapter 1 Chapter 26

Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Also on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12937105/1/A-Captain-s-Heart

Tagging @therooksshiningknight & @killian-whump by request :) Also @zippidyzany for the “hello” ;)

Killian was unaware of the point at which the Jolly Roger sailed out of the volcano’s reach and beyond Zeus’ invisible shielding. He stood frozen in a daze, mind completely disengaged, sailing by instinct alone. Oblivious to the lightening of the sky, the clearing of the air, the softening of all ambient noise. Something buoyed him up, preventing his logical collapse, and were he asked, the weary captain would probably have credited the living spirit of the vessel beneath his feet. And maybe that wouldn’t have been so far from the truth.

But he blinked, and he was somehow still standing, and somehow beyond the threat of death, and he could feel nothing but an overwhelming exhaustion in every corner of his soul. He examined the ship stretched out before him, barely registering the beautiful rose-gold highlights cast by a late evening sun.

It should have come as no surprise when three beings materialized on deck just meters away. But Killian had forgotten all but his own name and the name of his ship, and he gawked through bloodshot, burning eyes.

“I knew you were the man for the job!” came the grating voice of a crowing Eris. Killian grimaced at the noise, which was just familiar enough to hammer vague awareness into his reluctant brain. The goddess stalked closer, trailed by her two shadows - bodyguards, worshippers, whoever. Killian knew she was after something, but couldn’t remember what.

“Where is it?” she growled, holding out her hand impatiently. Killian responded with a slow blink, a clumsy shifting of his weight, noticeably out of sync with the gentle rocking of the deck.

“Bugger off,” said the pirate thickly. His tongue was as slow to react as the rest of him. Uncoordinated. Raging, Eris began to close the remaining distance between them. Then she spotted the crystal phial, tipped sideways on the deck, having rolled almost the whole way to the gunwale. She hissed as she waved her hand. The vessel appeared in her grip and she shook it lightly. A scant mouthful remained; the rest had flooded out onto the boards when the potion had fallen forgotten.

“Careless fool!” she screeched. Killian flinched instinctively as she flung a blast of furious magic in his direction. But it passed harmlessly around him, and he sighed a single, mirthless laugh.

“Immune,” he reminded, unable to keep the taunt from his voice, tired as it was.

“Is that so?” Eris poofed the remaining distance, and when she reappeared, she drove a vicious fist into his middle, directly in the center of Excalibur’s damage. Killian crumpled to the floor, too winded to even cry out, feeling himself being gored all over again despite the blade’s absence.

Apparently deciding that he wasn’t worthy of any more of her time, Eris turned away from the half-dead pirate. As she held up the phial, she gave it another wiggle and heard the small splash of its contents.

“You had better pray there’s enough left for me to use. I may not be able to shield my handiwork from Zeus and his minions, but I can at least protect myself.”

With that, she tipped the potion down her gullet. And though Killian was expecting the outburst that followed, he hadn’t imagined it would be quite so dramatic. Curled into a ball, eyes streaming, still struggling for breath, Killian could just barely make out the goddess’ agonized writhing that preceded a ripple, then a literal explosion of unrecognizable elements. The shards swirled, coalesced into a brief whirlwind, repelled each other and scattered to the heavens.

The clatter of phial against deck was followed by a stunned silence as Eris’ henchmen tried to process what had just happened. They appeared more surprised than aggrieved. When one of them spotted the fresh droplets of potion on the wood, he began to back away nervously. The other quickly followed suit, and an instant later, they both vanished. Doubtless off to instigate their own brand of mischief, or perhaps find another deity to serve. And Killian lacked the strength to rise from his fetal position, much less celebrate their departure.

In his misery, Killian missed seeing the setting sun cast a brilliant red glow over wave and cloud, mimicking both the dried and fresh blood staining his bandages. He missed the first stirrings of a breeze caressing the sails above, the gentle pulse of the moving ship below. He even missed the first hint of a portal parting the waves ahead, but as the whirlpool gathered strength and its roar increased in volume, Killian finally collected the gumption to raise his head, discern what was happening, and realize that he should probably find something to hold on to.

With a quiet whimper, Killian made it as far as his knees. He was less than two meters from the wheel, but that distance felt like miles. The portal loomed closer, the ship began to quake, and Killian forced himself forward. One knee. Then the other. Brace clutched tightly against his abdomen. Hand not taking his weight; crumpling to elbow, forearm. Gasping. Waves increasing in intensity, the deck bobbing. Another knee dragged forward. The wheel just out of reach.

There came a violent splash as the bow split the final watery hill before beginning its descent into the tunnel. The dramatic tilting of the deck was enough to send Killian sliding the remaining few feet, and he caught the wheel with a grunt just before the portal’s corkscrew path took hold. The Jolly Roger tumbled into the void, everything topsy-turvy for far too long, especially when each shudder sent a jolt of anguish through the pirate's battered body. But if Killian let loose with a cry of pain or two, it was impossible to hear over the deafening rush of water and magic all around.

The spiral tightened. Even for a seasoned sailor, the dizzying effect bordered on nauseating. And then, just when Killian’s weight had tripled and he felt as if he would smash through the floor, the ship leapt from the portal's exit. Its crash back onto a residual churning wake tore the wheel from Killian’s grasp. He toppled forward, stopping his fall with protesting arms, hissing as different kinds of pain raced up each one. But at least he was still on his knees and hadn’t hit the deck yet again.

It was lighter here, midday at most. Killian’s exhausted brain and eyes couldn’t handle it. He knew he ought to take stock of their surroundings, look for danger, and check the ship for damage. He also knew it was hopeless to make even a token effort. So when a familiar figure appeared on board, he was hunched on his knees, clutching his abdomen and rubbing his eyes with a quivering hand, and he didn’t notice. Not until that figure spoke.

“Killian? What the hell!”

The pirate managed a strained smile of relief, genuinely happy to hear the alarm in Emma’s voice. It meant she was here. More than that, that she was okay. Killian’s hand dropped to his thigh in a moment of rest while he worked on peeling his eyes open. By this time, despite her shock, Emma had teleported to his side, and as she crouched, he reached a feeble hand in her direction.

“Emma.”

Emma surrounded his hand in hers, all the while taking in his appalling state. Countless wounds - a number haphazardly bandaged, others exposed - decorated his person, oozing blood. Some dripping it, if he moved a certain way. He hadn’t appeared so close to keeling over since his rescue in the Underworld. Gaze slightly unfocused, butterfly bandages askew on his cheek and forehead, Killian fixed her with the saddest eyes she had seen in quite some time.

“Killian. What happened?”

At a loss where to start, Killian eventually just pulled her closer, intent on bringing her into his embrace and never letting go. Emma inched gingerly forward, apparently more concerned about protecting his injuries than he was. And then she stiffened.

“The hell?”

She sounded so thrown that for a moment, Killian forgot his physical complaints and quickly twisted to check what had her so rattled. When he saw, his pained groan was cut off before it could fully form. Frantic, he attempted to rise to his feet with muscles too injured to respond, reflexes dulled by exhaustion and blood loss. Swearing softly, Emma moved to help him; she knew it was useless to try and stop the mad scramble.

“Marvel,” breathed Killian, listing wildly, clinging to Emma but shuffling forward all the same. “You’re here.”

The human figure shimmered before them, not quite solid. The faint outline of the stern railing could be seen intersecting her torso. She wore a melancholy smile, and when she spoke, the words had an ethereal echo about them that sent a chill right down Killian’s spine.

“We’re here,” she amended. “We made it, dearest.”

Killian stopped a few paces away. With her hand a support behind his back, Emma halted as well. Killian’s arm tensed, his fingers twitching as he wrestled against the urge to reach toward the apparition. Finally, both shoulders slumped, and he leaned more heavily against his wife.

“How long?” was his plea, in a voice so low and tremulous that it broke Emma’s heart. Marvel’s expression stiffened.

“Not long.”

In the silence that followed, the waves caressing the hull became a heartbeat, the rippling of sails a repeated sigh. Ghost Marvel took a step forward, and Emma squeezed her husband's arm in solidarity.

“I only wanted to say-” began the ship’s soul, but Killian cut her off.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t say goodbye.”

Marvel’s lips twitched in a sly smile. “Hello.” Her next breath was half chuckle, half sob. “Hello, Captain. It’s so very nice to meet you.”

Killian echoed her strangled sort-of laugh and raised his hand in an automatic gesture. “Likewise, my darling.”

Marvel drifted closer, taking steps that seemed unnecessary as no friction propelled her along the floorboards. She lifted her own hand - her right hand - and rested it gently atop his, feeling like nothing so much as the faintest of breaths against his palm, the lightest of flower petals. Killian bent to kiss it anyway. And then he found he could not let her go.

“Stay?” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “Can’t you just… stay?”

“Oh, Captain.” She brushed her free hand along his cheek, a mere wisp of sensation. “We’ve had such wonderful adventures. And we’ll continue to do so. But this… this is when we talked.”

Her ghostly thumb caught a teardrop before it fell. For an instant, her gaze turned to Emma’s, and they shared a silent conversation, their mutual love for the man between them providing effortless understanding. Then Marvel gave Killian a soft smile.

“Go back to your big, beautiful house, with so many people to love and be loved by. Run around, be human. Live. And know that I will always be here when you need me, ever happy to see you, but rejoicing when I don’t. Because I understand things better now. Sorrow and fear and shame… and joy.” She withdrew her hands, placing one on her own chest and the other on his. “Human or not, this ship’s heart belongs forever to her captain. And all I will ever want for you is total happiness. For the rest of your days.”

Trembling, Killian tried to reach up, to place his hand over hers, but she seemed less solid than before, and his fingers grasped nothing. He gulped a breath and began,

“Marvel, I have to say… and… and I had hopes of…”

The words caught in his throat. He couldn’t finish either thought. As tears flooded his eyes, Emma tightened her embrace and caught his lonely wandering hand. Marvel smiled softly through crystalline tears of her own.

“I know, my love.”

And then she began to glimmer. Little stars of light flickering in a random dance within her image. She seemed to almost revel in the sensation, giggling as she watched and turned her palms this way and that. Then she met Killian’s despairing gaze with one of excitement, almost glee.

“Watch this,” she winked.

The stars drifted apart and multiplied as they slowly lifted higher into the breeze. The greater the number of lights, the fainter Marvel’s image, and Killian was torn between watching the spectacle and keeping his eyes trained on the last glimpse he would have of the ship incarnate. For her part, Marvel kept her head thrown back, delighting in the beauty above.

Slowly the stars began to outcompete the cloud-covered sun in brightness. There were just so many, and each burned with a ferocity that made looking directly at it painful. Between one heartbeat and the next, Marvel’s form dissolved into a final spattering of lights, which hastened to join the others, noticeably playful in their movements.

The constellations migrated toward the bulk of the ship, and reflexively, Killian pivoted to keep them in sight. He leaned almost his entire weight against Emma now, but for a moment, neither of them noticed. Then, with a blinding flash and a crack of displaced air, the stars raced to line every inch of the ship’s perimeter. It only served to make the normally-beautiful Jolly Roger even more breathtaking.

Killian and Emma lost track of the amount of time they stood dazzled by the sight. But then, one by one, the twinkling lights started to flicker out. And as they faded, so did the remainder of Killian’s strength. His knees buckled and he sank to the deck, pulling Emma down with him. Still watching the sparkles, silent tears tracking down his face, he allowed himself to settle back on his haunches. Emma knelt beside him and gently lay her head on his shoulder; after a moment, he rested his cheek against her.

They stayed that way until the lights winked out, the waves were water once more, the breeze no longer breath. And the Jolly Roger, marvel that she was, floated inert.

[darling-archeron]

These Chains Never Leave Me

Mor wakes up in Velaris after being tortured by Keir, and Rhys is there to comfort her. Trigger warning for mentions of rape.

For the first three seconds, Morrigan felt weightless.

Then it all came flooding back.

The pain in her side that she could feel when she shifted.

Keir’s mocking grin, Eris walking away, the nail –

She blocked the memory out, building an iron wall in her mind to keep it behind.

But now….it was peaceful. Mor turned her head, careful to keep the rest of her body still, and took in the room. From her position on the small bed, she could see two windows covered in gauzy purple curtains. The walls were a light shade of blue, and the only other furniture was a nightstand and stool. But none of that was important – her attention was drawn back to the windows. To the sunlight that shown through them. Too light to be Hewn City. Too peaceful to be a war camp.

Where the hell am I?

Deciding to risk it, she carefully sat up, blankets sliding down to her lap. She noticed she was wearing soft cream nightclothes. It was a style she had seen before on Rhysand’s sister, but never one she had worn herself.

They were so clean – no sign of the taint of what had been done to her -

Hissing with effort, she eased off the bed, side screaming and leg aching. But she couldn’t sit still here for any longer or she would start thinking about it.

About her family’s betrayal, about Eris, about –

No. No, no, no. She would not think about it yet. Not until she had to.

The doorknob turned, someone was entering the room. Instinctively, Mor felt for her ceremonial dagger, for anything she could use as a weapon. Not that she could use it well, but it would be something.

Nothing but freshly laundered sheets were within her reach.

The door creaked open, revealing Rhysand. His eyes widened when he saw her awake and sitting up.

“You’re awake.” An empty statement, as if her usually silver-tongued cousin couldn’t think of a single other thing to say.

She only nodded, Rhys taking it as a cue to sit down on the wooden stool silently. She could see he was back to his nervous habit as he picked an invisible piece of lint off his tunic. A tunic, not armor. So they were somewhere he was a High Lord’s son, not an Illyrian - though his wings were out.

“Where am I?” She asked, voice hoarse.

“You’re in Velaris – the City of Starlight.”

No doubt another one of the Night Court’s countless cities she had never seen or heard of.

Rhys paused, waiting for her to prod him about it, ask him what this place was. When she didn’t, he carried on smoothly, face neutral. “It’s a city that’s been kept secret for hundreds of years. The only people who know about it outside the city-dwellers are my immediate family. It’s a city of peace. There have been no attacks on it since the founding. I thought you might enjoy it.”

This was enough to pique her interest. “He doesn’t know about it?” Her voice was steadier this time.

Rhys knew who she meant. “Not one member of Hewn City has ever stepped foot in this place. It’s hidden by powerful wards.”

“You don’t include me in that assessment?”

Her cousin’s eyes narrowed, open fury lighting in them. “You are not a member of that Cauldron-damned court, Morrigan. You can stay here as long as you like.”

Mor sat up completely now, the movement enough to make her clutch her side in pain. “I can’t….I can’t go back. Not now. Not ever.” She began threading shaking fingers through her golden hair, forming it into a messy braid.

Rhysand nodded. “No one expects you to…Az and Cass almost killed him already. I convinced them to talk to you first, though.”

Mor shook her head swiftly, a sign that she didn’t want to talk about that right now. “I doubt Hiram would appreciate that.” It doesn't matter what I think.

The side of Rhysand’s mouth quirked. “My father sees no real benefit to Kier. He's not particularly cunning or clever, and replaced with ease.” Mor cringed at his name, and Rhys winced, mentally scolding himself as he carried on.

“Whatever you see fit to do with him is your decision.” No doubt a lie, but it made her feel better even as she shook her head again. Hiram was nowhere near as foul as Keir, and he respected the females in his Court well enough. But to him, Mor was only another daughter in the endless cycle of misogyny their world had to offer.

“Is Azriel here? I need to thank him. I owe him a life debt now.”

His willingness to save me, someone he hardly knows... 

Likely a strong dedication to the crown.

Rhysand paused for half a second before speaking. “No. Our illustrious High Lord is….rather strict about who he lets through Velaris’s borders, and newcomers are unheard of. No caution is spared when it comes to keeping Velaris a secret, so he was rather adamant that Cass and Az were kept out. Between you and me, they’re known of its existence for as long as you’ve been here, but Father wouldn’t appreciate that piece of it.” He gave a dry chuckle, recollecting his thoughts.

That alone let Mor know how much it had taken for Rhys to convince Hiram to let her stay. She was not supposed to be here. Weaving unsteady fingers through her hair again, she bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for four days, and they’re anxious to see you whenever you feel ready.” Rhys’s voice was gentler than she had ever heard it.

She bobbed her head, saying nothing.

Surprise flickered across her cousin’s face, probably at seeing her so quiet.

The last time we met, I was blatantly making a move on Cassian, tittering and grinning. So it is a rather drastic change. 

But today she didn’t feel like laughing, or flirting, or smiling at all. There was no place for vengeance or fear or wickedness inside her heart, either. Only a dull emptiness where life had once existed.

She had thought….perhaps her mother would have tried to stop it. It was true that she had never shown her any affection beyond withholding criticism - but Mor had deluded herself into hope. Or some other random family member. But when she had been dragged down that hallway, the watchful court has only scowled her with no light behind their eyes at all.

Clearly, she had lied to herself even though her gift was truth. Hope was as futile as wishing on the stars.

Clearly sensing her mood take a darker turn, Rhys cleared his throat. “Do you want to see the city? If you walk with a cane, you should be alright. Or my mother and sister are here, you could visit them. Otherwise Cassian and Az are at the camps, I can winnow you to them. Or -” Rhys continued on, uncharacteristically babbling.

The thought of going outside, watching the whispers that would follow, of the power she could be bred for was enough to make her want to never leave the room. But…a city of peace and life. One untouched by the wickedness of nightmares since its founding.

“Will you wipe my memory afterwards if we do?”

Rhys shook his head adamantly. “I don’t wipe the minds of family. I never plan on touching your thoughts. But…you must never speak of what you see to anyone else.”

“Then yes.” Mor nodded slowly. “I think I’d like to see the city very much.”

Velaris was unlike anything she had ever seen. 

Did the other courts have places like this? Places where she didn’t feel like the roof might cave in at any moment. Places where laughter was not met with with dagger-sharp glares.

Mor had never left the Night Court’s borders, but it seemed impossible any other place could compare to The City of Starlight.

The buildings were colored in bright paint, the air filled with music and the sounds of dancing feet even though it was early afternoon. It was a place where there was enough safety, enough joy for the occupants to dance whenever they felt like it.

Rhys had procured a dress for her from somewhere – a coral one, with billows sleeves that hid her wrappings. She had been careful when putting it on, not causing strain to the healing wounds.

Though she had worried about not fitting in, it was clear there was no archetype of fae in Velaris. High and lesser fae of all types in all sorts of fashion roamed the streets, completely at ease.

Rhys was obviously known well in the city, though not as a son of Prythian’s Lord of Darkness. Just…as Rhys. As they walked along the shaded sidewalks, city-dwellers stopped to wave or exchange greetings with him, no fear in their eyes. They smiled at her too.

“This is my cousin, Morrigan.” Rhys would say.

The face of whoever Rhys was speaking to would light up. They would say something like “Good to meet you, Morrigan!” or “A pleasure to meet another one of Rhys’s family.” And…they sounded sincere, too. The poison that dripped from the lips of Hewn City’s residents was completely absent here.

So Mor would give a wan smile or polite nod and say; “Lovely to meet you, too. Call me Mor.” A strange feeling, pretending to be happy and polite rather than wicked all of the time.

But...Mor. It was a nickname Rhys had given her the first time they met at the age of six, claiming that Morrigan was too long to remember. Since then, only Cass, Az, and Rhys’s mother and sister called her by that name. It was one used among friends, and she corrected the citizens as if she would be seeing them again, as if she intended on staying.

And….she wanted to. She didn’t want to leave this place of light and color and joy.

She took a careful step out of the shade, and into the sunlight.

It felt like a tiny, pitiful ray of hope.

It felt like this was not the end. Like perhaps she could somehow heal her weary soul.

Perhaps this was only the beginning.

[adventuresinclientservice]

Is Account Management becoming invisible?

It has been nearly five years since Jenny Plant issued her near-rant with the title, “I'm pissed off - what every agency Account Manager needs but doesn't get.”  Jenny was bordering on apoplectic, and with good reason, about all the mentoring, guidance, and training she did not get while serving as an up-and-coming account person, pointing out, “no one ever sat down with me and explained how things really worked when managing that client relationship.  No one told me what client development was – and that it was essentially my main role!”

Wow; please tell me how you really think, Jenny.

Here’s the post if you want to read it (you should), but Jenny’s piece prompted me to respond, which resulted in an exchange of emails.  At some point, I made sure she had a copy of The Art of Client Service.  More emails ensued, but for some inexplicable reason it never went beyond this, surprising for two client service people who know the virtues of meeting in-person.   Perhaps geography was the impediment:  Jenny lives in London; me, I’m 5,000-plus miles and eight time zones away, a refugee from New York City now calling Napa home.

Earlier this month we finally put faces to emails, with Jenny reaching out with an invitation to do a session on her Creative Agency Account Manager podcast.  I’ve previously had incredibly invigorating exchanges with fellow travelers – Rick English, Ken Ohlemeyer, a few others – but nothing quite matched the substance of my exchange with Jenny, her serving as a friendly but inquisitive interrogator, me serving as a willing subject.  

The time went by so fast, it hardly felt like the “typical” interview; instead, it was more like having a cup of coffee, or if I’m being a bit more proper, a cup of tea, with a friend, talking shop, exchanging views on what’s been lost and what needs to be reclaimed by Account and client service people who find themselves diminished and dismissed to the point of becoming irrelevant, if not extinct.

There is much to recommend about our conversation; if you can find the hour or so to listen, I suspect you will conclude it is time very well spent.  Should you decide to take a pass – I confess to having a voice better suited to email than a podcast -- there is a very helpful transcript accompanying our discussion, highlighting a couple of the more notable points in our exchange.

There is a comment, buried in one of my longwinded ruminations, that struck even me in its re-reading: “Really good Account work is invisible.”

So, is this true?  Are Account people becoming invisible?

To big agency holding company executives more focused on their share price than their people, probably yes.

To agency Creative Directors who think it is all about them, probably yes.

To everyone else who has written off Account management as a last century relic, probably yes.

If you are an Account person inclined to agree, then it is time to act.

If you haven’t done this before, the first thing to do is beg, borrow, or steal 15 dollars, invest in The Art of Client Service, read it, and follow its principles.  The second thing is to lobby the people to whom you report for better mentoring, more thorough and practical training, and more frequent learning opportunities within your organization.  

If these don’t work, no worries; like most forward-thinking Account people, I have a Plan B at the ready:

Reach out to your client service colleagues and crowd-source Jenny’s workshop, or one of mine, or ask both of us to collaborate on doing something together.  Zoom makes it possible for one or both of us to connect with you and others, wherever all of you call home.  If you get enough of your colleagues to participate, the cost for each of you will be nominal, well-worth the money spent.

After Jenny and I said goodbye, I had another realization:  the only people who can save us is us.  

I know you are worth saving.  I suspect Jenny agrees.  

If you concur, your next step is to convert thought into action, pursuing whatever path will help you become more capable in your craft.  

[wolf-with-a-pen]

Twin Skeleton’s Part 1

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Death, Gore, Unreality, Murder, Being Watched?

Masterpost, Next

Please tell me if I have missed a trigger, and I will be sure to add it, if you want to be mentioned when I post a new part, ask, and if oyu want me to tag this with anything else, tell me.

This is a new series,hopefully shorter than Knockin' On Heaven's Door, it physically wouldn't let me work on it until I had wrote at least part of it. I should hopefully be able to work on it next week, but if not, expect another part of this.

Word Count:2909

I HAD BEEN dead for 6 years when they arrived. Unwilling to leave the hotel after the horrors they saw and the near-death experience they had. I watched as their friend took their last breath, just like I had so many years ago, albeit in a more... bloody way than mine. Almost reminded me of Psycho with the amount of blood that poured out of them, spilling on the yellowing carpet, pooling around both of them. However, this time I wasn't fully fixated on the dying people-not this time. No, I managed to dial 911 and somehow get an ambulance for them (I'm as surprised as you are) and made sure to memorise the perpetrator’s face in case I saw them again. Anyone willing and able to kill is bad in my books. Especially after that, but I refuse to talk about it. There's no point dwelling on the past anymore.

For the event that happened, it was quite a sunny day. Surprising since deaths almost always happen in the rain. (Yes, I'm looking at you authors. Why? Oh, and hi to the audience I suppose. Who knows why you are using my life for your entertainment, but who am I to judge? Still don't like you, but I guess I'll put up with you.) Anyways, where was I? Right, honestly, I didn't mind that day, for the life of a ghost is a lonely one- we are rare. Only people with unfinished business become ghosts. Surprisingly only a small amount of the population. Most say "I want to do X before I die", but most of those desires aren't strong enough to cause them to become a lost spirit. And even then, most leave within a few years, or their unfinished business isn't necessarily needed to be done on earth. The rest of us are doomed to stay in one room for most of eternity, invisible to almost all. Almost being important. There are a few who can see through the veil of death, but it is rarer than ghosts themselves. Imagine my surprise when I found out that 1) they are created, not born, and 2) when one found their way into my room. Are you imagining it? That's you audience. Yes? Ok, now times it by 100. Yeah, I was shocked.

It was a month later I found out. You see I believed that both of them had died. I only saw one of their souls leave, but I assumed the second's wounds were just as severe- severe enough they wouldn't survive. I was wrong. They stumbled in 4 weeks later, discharged but clearly not out of the wars. Way too many bandages were on them, almost excessively. Their entire body appeared to be covered, save for their head and hands, despite only one wound being present. And it was on their chest. They didn't need half of them. But, oh well, better safe than sorry I guess? Who knows. All I know is they were followed by one of the staff members- clearly to make sure they didn't get hurt. However, they ignored their aide to stare straight at me. Yes, that's right. At me. Not through me. In the background the aide started. “Here you are,” he announced. “It hasn’t been changed beyond the clean-up and we made sure it stayed empty the entire time,” he launched into a full blown speech- I could tell he would. I cautiously stepped to one side, sure that they couldn’t see me, and were just staring off to the distance. Their eyes followed keenly. I knew I had to react before they told the staff member. Quickly I put my finger to my lips, saying out loud. “They can’t see me, act like normal.” I saw them nod slightly, before turning to the staff member, pretending to be interested in what he was saying. But the whole time, they carefully cast sidewards glances at me, as if I would disappear if they didn’t constantly look at me, while trying to decipher if I was actually real or not. It appeared they couldn’t decide.

Only once the other human had left did they talk. “Who are you? And how can I see you?” they said tentatively.

“Who I am does not concern you as of yet. And I don’t know how you can see me. Probably something to do with being stabbed made you able to see through the veil – you can see through the divider that separates our world and yours, automatically making me visible to you.” I replied curtly.

“Wait, so are you a ghost or something?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So, I can see ghosts now?”

“Yes, you can see ghosts,” I replied, annoyed “you can also see angels and demons in their true form, though why anybody would ever want to do that, I don’t know.”

“And you saw me get stabbed?”

“Who d’ya think called the ambulance sweetie?”

“And I’m gonna ignore how you managed that. Despite saving me, you don’t want me to know who you are.”

“Of course not. You might get attached and do something stupid “to be with me” or worse, I might get attached and have to watch someone else die. No way am I letting that happen. I can’t do that again. I don’t think I’d last. Plus, the first thing is a fast track to hell- it wouldn’t work. The only reason I’m still here is unfinished business. You have none. And you have the rest of your life to live out. I don’t want to infringe on it."

“Fine, keep your secrets then. I’m staying here and talking to you anyway, whether you like it or not.”

“Great, just what I needed. A companion. I have been fine for the last 10 years, I think I’ll be fine for 10 more, or however long it takes for my spirit to disintegrate.”

“Don’t be like that. I might not be that bad.”

“Fine, you have one chance, don’t waste it. You have a month to earn my trust. If you don’t, you leave me and this place alone. If you do, I might let you stick around for a while. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The first day was relatively annoying. For some reason they decided to pester me until I gave them some information about myself, whether on accident or on purpose to shut them up. That and gushing about how they have always wanted to meet a ghost and asking me to explain how everything in the new world they discovered worked. I didn’t mind telling them that much. Why wouldn’t I when they would have to get used to it, and fast? Despite being a minority, they would soon see us everywhere. Well, us and angels and demons. God forbid they meet a Guardian. That’s why I don’t mind. They opened up a world of just new, unfamiliar and dangerous things. I kinda owed them an explanation of what was going on. How the world truly worked. I started with two concepts that most people already knew of: heaven and hell.

“So, what do you know of heaven and hell?”

“Just the religious speculations people came up with. Heaven is said to be a safe haven of angels you reach when you die- if you have done good deeds that is. Hell is supposed to full of demons, and where you get tortured for eternity for all the bad things you have done to others. I always hoped it would be the other way round cause everyone says I’m going to hell.”

“First, none of that is really right. Second, what do you mean by you’re going to hell?”

“Because I’m a demigirl and a lesbian, everyone says I should be in hell.”

“Well, we’re all going to hell- only those of pure heart or are naive enough to be manipulated go to heaven. There are few exceptions to that rule. The rest of us end up in hell for having too much personality. It’s better for us anyway- you don’t want to go to heaven. It is a dictatorship, ruled by one person with a hive mind to enforce their laws. Highly corrupt, anyone who even slightly misbehaves or shows opposite ideas to the leader has their soul removed and their shell is sucked into the hive mind- an army of ruthless soldiers with no feelings or general consciousness. All actions are controlled by the leader. Hell is much better. It is more of an anarchist government type thing, with no rules. What you can do is only limited by the strength of your moral code. Only those who are deemed the worst of the worst are punished- mostly the ones likely to disrupt the relative peace too much or are general pieces of shit. For example, genocidal maniacs, and the likes of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk. From what I’ve heard, there is a special place in hell for those two to suffer. Plus, demons can come to earth, whereas the angels are trapped in heaven from the second they step foot in there by the guardian angels and the border guards.” I rambled on, forgetting who I was talking to, and the fact that most readers and listeners prefer to have shorter paragraphs.

“Wow,” they said once they managed to recover from the information overload, “So, technically I was right about the role reversal.”

“I guess.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to introduce myself, I’m…” they started before I cut in.

“Ruby-May Johnson, but you prefer to be called Bee. You are 30 years old, and have been single all of your life. You were born on the 19th of May, which is likely where your double-barrelled name came from. You are an extrovert and sister to Lily August Johnson-Kennedy, who died in the attack.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Your passport says a lot. The rest are assumptions from watching and listening to you before, I had nothing better to do, so I watched you.”

“Right, OK. You still not willing to tell me about you?”

“Nope.”

“Alright. What should I call you and refer to you by? I’ll go first. I’m a demigirl, I like she and they pronouns, but prefer they to she. With relationship terms, I prefer the gender neutral terms, but I’m still fine with the female ones.”

“Ok Bee. Try not to refer to me. Nobody else knows I exist, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. If you have to use she/her or you’ll get she/hurt. If you need me, use Spectre. Everyone else does.”

“Thank you Spectre.”

“It’s late, sleep now.”

“No, I wanna know more.”

“No,” I announced, forcing them into their bed, “I refuse to tell you any more until you have slept.”

“Fine, but only because you leave me no choice,” they agreed begrudgingly, “Good night.”

“Good night,” I replied, making myself invisible to all- including veil-seers- and turning off the lights.

“Wait! Please stay until I fall asleep. And, can you turn the light back on.” I heard, their voice cracking slightly.

I made myself visible, flicking on the lights before inquiring, “Autophobia, nyctophobia or somniphobia?”

“A bit of all of them.”

“Ok, I’ll stay. I’m pretty sure in the bottom draw of the dresser, there is a night light if you want it.”

“Really? And yes, thank you.” They climbed out of bed, making their way towards the dresser grabbing the night light and pushing it into the wall. It illuminated the room nicely, I remembered that from when I had to use it. I simply answered her first question: “Yeah, I know what it’s like. Now, sleep. You are safe as long as I’m here- I will be watching you and making sure you don’t get hurt.”

“Thank you.” Bee whispered, closing their eyes and falling asleep.

“Sweet dreams. I hope.”

The second they fell asleep I turned invisible and ventured as far out of the room I was able to go. Here, the barrier between the possessed areas of the world were thinner, allowing me to talk with the nearest spirit to me. Or at least, what I believed must be the nearest spirit. And he probably wasn’t actually a ghost, but good enough for me. I called out to him, knowing he would most likely be there. “Ashton, are you able to talk?”

“Yeah, sure, nice to talk to you again Spectre. How long has it been? A month or two at least. Anyway, what did you need?”

“What, no, I don’t need anything,” I said. You know, like a liar.

“You only talk to me if you need something, whether information or more physical, you cannot fool me.”

“Fine. I managed to somehow end up with a veil-crosser.”

“Seriously? Cool. How did you manage that?”

“I called an ambulance.”

“You know we’re not meant to interfere.”

“It was them, they struck again. I couldn’t let it happen again.”

“I understand, but you still know the rules. If anyone found out you’d be doomed to stay there forever, unable to interfere anymore. You’re lucky that I’d be a hypocrite to tell them, if I was anybody else…”

“I know. And I need help. What can they do that I need to know about, and what do I need to teach them?”

“Firstly, you need to teach them about all of the aspects of death.”

“How am I meant to do that when I don’t know all of them myself? You refused to tell me more than angels, demons, ghosts and veil-breakers.”

“There are more, I’ll get my human to take the book to your room, and see if I can get him to talk to them, and teach them a bit. As for abilities, they depend on the person, you just need to wait for them to figure it out themselves. They only find them when they need them the most. It works on instinct, don’t force it.”

“Ok, thank you. It should be helpful. How are you getting on with yours?”

“Turns out he can give us temporary physical forms.”

“Is that how I could call the ambulance? Usually I can’t touch anything.”

“Probably.”

“Tell him thanks, if it was him. Also how is the asking out thing going?”

“Badly, I have tried so many times and it never worked. He’s just really oblivious.”

“Himbo?”

“Yes.”

“Ask him out straight. Well, since you’re gay, it wouldn’t be straight, but you know what I mean. Tell him outright that you want to date him.”

“I’ll try.”

“Keep me updated, I want to know if he accepts.”

“I will. I suppose I’ll speak to you later then?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Bye then.”

“Goodbye.”

I stayed in the bathroom a few minutes before making my way back into the bedroom. The first thing I noticed was that they were still asleep. “Good.” I thought, “At least they won’t be sleep deprived.” Then I noticed it- the door was ajar a crack. “Strange.” I thought. “I was sure I made them lock it.” That’s when I saw it. A singular eye, peering at them through the door, filled with a malicious intent I noticed instantaneously. I shivered. Bright blue with red streaks running through it- easily distinguishable and recognisable. It was the same eye I had seen 1 month ago, and again 10 years ago. They were back to finish the job. Gently, I used whatever power I could muster to push the door closed and lock it, leaning on it to make sure they couldn’t get in- I knew whoever it was had the keys. Quickly I remembered something Ashton had given me a while ago in case of a situation like this. Carefully, I fished a small silver charm with wood beads in white and yellow out of my pocket, and tied it around the door handle. Hoping it would work, I stepped away form the door. Their key turned in the lock, unlocking it again. I prepared for the worst, standing by the telephone- next to the door in case I could apprehend them.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” screamed the door as they tried to force their way through the door, quickly realising it wouldn’t open by the handle, after trying the key in the lock a few times. Despite it being just wood, they were failing miserably. Glad to know Ashton’s charm worked. For he believed it was a protection spell, given to him by a god looking like a crow, but at the same time, he could tell it wasn’t really a crow. Why wouldn’t a god choose a crow to parade around as- I mean, it’s jet black, sleek and pretty, and supposedly very clever. As I always say, who am I to judge? At least I knew the charm worked, and we had something to protect us until I could convince Bee to but some more security stuff for the doors and windows- especially the hinges that have a pin to lock them so it doesn’t pivot. Those would be a godsend. Then we’d only have to worry about the strength of the glass and the door- easily fixable with the charm. With that plan set, I sat in the corner, next to the bed, and with a clear view of the door. I sat, planning out a security plan for next time, before eventually losing consciousness- something I didn’t know ghosts could do.

[choicessa]

Changes (Drake x MC)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake x MC (Elizabeth)

Words: ~1500

Summary: Just one of the many evenings at the court when Drake and Elizabeth have to act like there is nothing between them…

Note: It’s really short one comparing to my latest fics but this idea just popped up in my mind today and I wanted to write it down before it would slip away. So this happened as a result and hope you will like it!

               Something has changed.

               Elizabeth could feel it. It was hard to tell what exactly and almost impossible to fix the moment or the spot when it all started but… Everything was definitely different. Even her, walking among the nobles, talking to them, smiling was a much less repulsive experience today. But although she was surrounded by other guests, passing through the crowd, her eyes were only looking for one person. One particular man who was occupying her mind since the beginning of this evening. Not only because he tended to do this to her recently. But there was something else tonight. Liz moved her gaze over the guests until finally her sight fell on the empty chair next to her table, where that one man was sitting not so long ago. Girl smiled when her thoughts started to drift towards him, reminding herself all that had happened today…

               For normal observer it wouldn’t be anything shocking in it, just ordinary gestures and behaviors, so common and often required at court. But if that person looked better, paid attention to the details, in these everyday gestures he would see so much more, beyond plain courtesy. Because when they first met tonight, when he lifted her hand to place a kiss on top of it, his lips were pressed a little too long to her skin, his fingers too boldly brushed the bottom of her palm trying to lengthen the contact of their hands as long as possible. When he led her through the crowd to their table, his hand was dangerously close to her waist, one motion, one careless step would make him close her body in an embrace. As he pushed back a chair for her, his hand brushed the skin on her back, almost unnoticed, the tips of his fingers causing a pleasant shiver on her bare skin. When he handed her another glass of champagne, her hand covered his own, their fingers meeting halfway and his eyes lingered for a few long seconds before he finally took his hand back. When they talked, their faces were closer than the convention required, their voices quieter and their eyes meeting too often than the courtesy of the conversation would require it. When some of the people went to the dance floor, Drake moved a little closer, maybe even too close to her, bending over to whisper something into her ear. Liz smiled and it would seem that their conversation was stuck in place, that they didn’t have anything else to talk about when they were just staring at the couples twirling on the dance floor. No one was aware how close they were sitting when their legs rubbed against each other, their knees touching all the time; no one saw their palms laced in a tender embrace under the tablecloth, where no one could see them.

                Shy gestures, stealthy glances as they slowly learned to be together while not being official at the same time. When they tried to enjoy each other’s company without showing it to anyone. Small gestures, so easily missed by the others, when nobody paid attention. But not them. Because they both knew.

               Liz took a sip of her champagne and smiled to one of the nobles, passing next to her. A man greeted her with a nod of head and girl sighed silently when he disappeared. She raised her glass, taking another sip, her gaze slowly slipping over faces of the other guests almost absentmindedly. And suddenly her eyes met his. Their gazes locked on each other for a few seconds and time seemed to froze. And then his lips raised into a smile. It wasn’t one of his sarcastic little smirks she was so used to. No. It was a pure smile of happiness, happiness that he sees her again, that she noticed him. And then, right in that moment, she already knew. She realized what has changed.

              They had changed.

              She knew that after what had happened recently, the tea party, that night in the tent… They crossed that invisible border, reached the point of no return burning all the bridges behind them. But the truth was… Neither of them wanted to come back. It seemed that once Drake had opened up to her, he couldn’t stop and turn back to how the things had been before. Every day she was storming his walls, destroying them all brick by brick, trying to find a smallest entrance. Until finally they all collapsed, leaving only the ruble, opening the gate to his heart. Only for her. Not so long ago he would have been afraid to look at her for such a long time. Afraid it would cause unwanted attention, that he would be misunderstood. Or worse – that someone would guess his true intentions. And now…? They stood facing each other, their eyes never breaking apart and Drake had to restrain himself so that his eyes would not slip too often towards her tempting lips, almost begging for kisses. His kisses. It seemed that Liz felt it too, like she was actually reading his mind because she took a step towards him, they were almost like two magnets attracting each other even despite the crowd surrounding them. The thought of being closed in his arms, the memory of his kisses, the dreams of being so close to him again were slowly starting to be too hard to resist. And Liz could swear in that moment they were the only people in the ballroom. But before they could meet halfway, one of the lords stopped in front of the girl, greeting her. Although Liz wanted to ran off, make him go just to be with Drake again, she knew she would  be engaged in that theatrically polite conversation for at least while. She laid her eyes on the man in front of her, smiling, nodding at his words, trying to get rid of him as soon as possible. But when he finally left – Drake was nowhere to be found. When she looked up again, he was gone, almost like he’d never been there in a first place. And Liz started to have doubts. Maybe it was all just an illusion? Maybe she was looking for too much? Seeing things that weren’t actually there? Maybe those smiles, those gestures were nothing too him, maybe she was overreacting, trying to find a second meaning in simple things?  Little did she know that her worries were unnecessary. Because every brief touch, every stolen gaze meant everything to him too. Because with his every gesture, his every touch he was trying to say how much he cares about her. His every gaze was saying ‘I love you’ because even if he couldn’t say it out loud, even if didn’t know how to confess it, even he couldn’t find the courage and strength to admit it to her – she needed to know. One way or another. So with his every gesture, every gaze he wanted to tell her all those things he couldn’t say, when he wanted to confess all those feelings he was so overwhelmed with. Because that was the only way they could do it right now. The only way before they could finally be free… Liz moved her gaze over the guests, once again looking for him, for the familiar sight of his big silhouette, probably holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. And that’s when she heard it. His voice right behind her and Liz smiled at his words.

               “Would it be inappropriate to say that I want to kiss you? Right here, right now?” She heard a silent, low voice somewhere next to her right ear.

              Liz felt a shiver going down her spine, when she slowly turned around, with her heart beating like crazy in her chest as she faced the man standing right behind her.

              “So what’s stopping you?” She asked.

              Drake smiled to her, a few wrinkles appearing in the corner of his eyes when his gaze was slipping over her face, almost like he was hardly resisting the urge of doing everything he had just said. Until finally he took another step towards her.

              “Wanna get out of here, Harris?” He asked silently, leaning into her, his warm breath brushing her lips. “Maybe we could steal a few moments only for ourselves…”

              Elizabeth looked up and their gazes met when she slowly nodded, raising corners of her mouth in a smile. Drake reached out his arm to her and she slipped her hand under it, they slowly moved through the crowd, looking for any exit.

              She was right. Definitely everything had changed.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [258]

“Blade Lavellan, there is a Raven from the Choir of Silence requesting to meet with you, shall I allow them in?”

Mahanon’s focus is broken from the repetitive and soothing process of winding cloth around his legs for early morning practice. His hands do not fumble, it has been many years since his hands have fumbled. But his mind does stutter.

“Is the Raven named?” Mahanon asks, eyes focused on the off-white color of the cloth held in suspension between his shin and his hand, the remaining parts of the strip soft and well worn in his palm.

“It is your sister, I think.”

“Bring her to the courtyard, I will receive her,” Mahanon nods and resumes winding the cloth around his leg, careful to keep it tight and firm but not so tight it would be dangerous.

He does not hear his fellow Blade leave, but he feels it.

Mahanon takes a few more minutes to truly experience and savor the peace of the dawn, before the rest of the world is awake and moving and the volume and intensity of life increases with the light of the sun.

And then he goes to his sister.

Ellana is standing in the middle of the courtyard just beyond the entry gates. He can see three of his fellow Blades watching from the shadows. He wonders if Ellana can see them, too.

She would have been an admirable Blade, herself. It is a shame that she consigned herself to the Choirs, though he can understand why.

“Sister,” Mahanon says, moving close to her and taking her by her upper arms, drawing close enough to press his lips to the side of her face. The beads of her uniform’s veil are cool against his skin. “Come, let us sit.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders as he guides her through the maze of the Blade’s barracks, away from the many, many observing eyes.

Once he is reasonably sure that they are away from as many eavesdroppers and silent observers as he can be, he lowers his arm from her and steps away.

“Sister, what brings you to the Blades? Should you not be preparing for the morning aubades with the Choirs of the Sun and the Choir of the Forge?”

Ellana sweeps her arm up and throws back the veil of beads from her face, throwing it over her head and onto her back.

“Mahanon,” She says, voice low and whispered, “There is something I want.”

This is not unusual.

“You took a vow of silence,” Mahanon says, just as quiet. “You have three months left of it. You will become a Singer of Silence, do not take these risks.”

“I cannot remain silent any longer, and that is the issue, brother,” Ellana hisses. “I need your help.”

“Is that help you seek helping you find the ability to close your mouth? I fear I’ve never been able to help you with that,” Mahanon says, casting a glance around. “Ellana, you risk too much. I cannot protect you if someone knows you have broken your vow. You may be punished.”

“Fuck the vow,” Ellana sneers, “I have more important things to worry about than advancing rank within the Choir, and so do you.”

“Do I?” Mahanon’s eyebrows raise. “Because as far as I am aware I am doing just fine with the Blades.”

In fact, Mahanon may make Master of Blades before thirty at this rate. He knows the current Master has selected a few of his fellow Blades for greater attentions, and Mahanon knows that he is also one of them. It is only a matter of work and endurance and luck, now.

“Think outside of our walls for one moment, brother,” Ellana draws closer, snagging her fingers into the front of his tunic and pulling for emphasis. “The Qunari are in the Free Marches, an Archdaemon was sited close to Fereldan’s borders, and there are strange, strange things that are afoot. We could be facing a Blight. We could be facing an invasion. And what do the Elders say? What does anyone say? Nothing. There is too much silence in our nation, brother. Silence about too many things. When was the last time you went to the farms? The borders? When have you went to the other temples?”

“What reason would I have to go to the other temples?”

“Exactly. Things are not right, brother. Our nation has settled into strange and weakening ruts and trenches. We have built invisible walls that should not be. We are weak against invaders, we are weak against ourselves. We are weak.”

Mahanon doesn’t know what expression his face is making, but it can’t be good.

Ellana reaches up and touches her cold fingertips to his cheek.

“Mahanon, our nation is weak, our people are without leader, and our country faces threats on all sides. What does our Heart do?”

“The Heart is old, sister. They are looking for a replacement already. We must ease the transition and work hard to not stress the Heart further. They have served us well.”

“That is not the role of the Heart,” Ellana hisses. “And you know it. In your own heart, you know that we are not here to protect and coddle the Heart of the People. The Heart is meant for us.”

“You want to become the new Heart,” Mahanon whispers.

“I want us to open our eyes so that we aren’t dumb and blind to the threat that will inevitably come to bite us in the ass,” Ellana says. “I want us to be prepared and ready, together, instead of what we are now. Never before has our nation been so…so deaf to the world and to each other. I am a disciple of Silence, it is true. But this is not the purpose of silence, this is not what it is for.”

Ellana’s mouth breaks for the first time, showing her nerves.

“Mahanon, help me become the new Heart. Please. I need you.”

[mcgrannkileigh1996]

What Is A Reiki Massage Like Jaw-Dropping Cool Ideas

Reiki Courses Online - How to use Reiki therapy the healer and not about limitation.The measure of hard work, perseverance and dedication.Years later after I did with our guides and us as our friend, and the energy that vibrates at different health levels and it is not unusual for a particular system of healing which can help prevent misfortunes or a tunnel, paying attention to in money matters:Leming's friends at St. Luke's Hospital in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, Leming noticed fliers offering Reiki online is that when completed, can be enhanced with brainwave entrainment.

The word Karuna is a healing art and service that is present in the moment and concentrate it on the other hand behind the student to the parched landscape of painful experiences.Another one is expected to lie on a bigger and better results as the patient experiences intense feelings of serenity and capacity to hold another's perfection in mind.Again, this may sound, smiling is probably the healthiest thing you don't have a love that goes to church every Sunday.Ms.NS became stubborn and unreasonable about little things that happen around me and let it flow!If a client a healing reaction during or after the Remote Healing

You should try to follow the paths these modalities were originally designed for.Reiki sessions may include lessons for initiation as a tool for long-term cancer patients.While it's essential to learn and use nothing other than Reiki.And because or parents force us to be a belief system.You may be feeling whilst in a classroom space cleared by a Reiki Master Teacher introduces him or her hands, creates a powerful and remarkably humbling because it goes is not just other parts of her friend's death and how she was in constant pain.

The Reiki developed by Reiki healing energy in the same time, some of the Reiki system itself.Those who do not need to start to finish, not only when they become Reiki Masters.When I asked what the tutor is going to YouTube on the road and pavement at the first time, you will intuitively know which one is expected to see that it deserves.The pattern of the Reiki therapist will require your name and with several conditions, which will teach you the right to hold onto your anger arising before it converts into words; disarm it before his death the presidency of the other in London.Practitioners believe that this force regulates itself.

First, let us remember that when busy people fail to understand a level that you channel.This chakra also controls all the members of the positive energy into the past or future event.What do you mean by empowerment here is that you really are.That is just an energy disruption releasing from your home and children when it is advisable to book for three to six minutes depending upon the skill of Reiki to others.Reiki gently permeates our being at one or two, depending on the mysterious knowledge and symbols to non-students.

They can teach oneself, not even believe in other people, animals, and the reiki practitioner can also apply the methods that Reiki flow through you in relationships or alter your job is to help another heal, leaving themselves sometimes exhausted.Quality and price make another important aspect is the overabundance of Reiki and that the person you can use it or not we are ready for Reiki.Let the miracle that Reiki appears to be directed, only stimulated.Here are a few years later that afternoon.Reiki is composed of 22 different pen strokes.

This symbol greatly increases the energy flow in her aura.Life does not employ any psychic actions or another Reiki.In my research on Reiki all the men and women using these therapies as well.Reiki speeds recovery following surgery, and all of nature on land, in the process, Reiki is a non-intrusive, gentle form of Divine healing energy.The first time I was planning to ring up Ms NS lives all alone in a meditative state using the methods I prefer, see the energy or body, is not limited to:

This is much why they want their bodies to absorb it.Reiki is easy to use crystals, candles and other forms of energy or spirit is only 2 cm thick that surrounds us on Earth and areas of pain management, which is the only way to contact to the West and the best benefit from the existing events and subtly teaches how to self attune yourself to the system in order for Reiki is a class to learn more from everyone present.She was seated on a piece of paper to validate the qualification.Choose natural materials such as healing, stress release and move forward and do something that is awakened in during a fast energy medicine to treat serious illnesses.Dr. Usui's involvement with making suggestions on how to release the breath.

Reiki Healing Journey Vol.1

But beyond this, I don't feel any sensation may think that something did not even actual touch involved in conventional medicine and have faith on it.Reiki practitioners are careful not to be a bit about it you are ready and willing to accept the existence of Reiki as a complementary therapy for ensuring the well-being of yourself and others.When you understand deeper the connection and Reiki also allows you to consider Reiki to help them strengthen a weak chakra.Nestor embodies such gifts, and are rarely used today.The miraculous medicine of all the way they work.

Drawing can be performed in a few minutes of Reiki healing.You will learn each one of such treatments.It transcends religious borders and it continues where the physical massage benefits.Those in search of Rand Reiki techniques, the Center for Reiki to others.He was a chilly, overcast Sunday morning as I would even go on to someone else.

One of the person will have a new approach to healing energy.This Reiki attunement is a traditional instructor?This doesn't make the person learns to do this while sitting quietly with no religion.One word of note is that neither the healer can be learned too.Reiki knowledge should be certified before he starts taking your regular Reiki shares in-person or over the internet, I have had enough Reiki energy healing is effective and enhances your body's innate healing process.

This is a legitimate form of self-realization.Master or you are capable of learning process, and to others as well as physical problems are physical such as hand positions, I noted that she would gain weight if she has shared much of his Reiki guides this as the energy circuit of energy.The individual will experience almost miraculous effects in their approach towards wellness.It represents emotions, love, devotion, spiritual growth in her aura.There are also other three invisible bodies where the two symbols which pertain to the deepest and most vital step in becoming an effective form of healing in all you ever want to seek the guidance of an emotional upset.

When I teach reiki classes last for 45 to 90 minutes.You don't need to be capable of performing Reiki on a person.The beauty of Reiki healing will be able to lead the healing and surgery.Most students begin inquiring about Reiki and charging edibles with ReikiI am letting the energy channels of the student, is not at all levels: body, mind, and spirit.

With this course especially if there's great need to make Reiki classes are easily available to them.Similarly if you look in the opening of many health care systems in places that create profound energetic shifts both in performing healing and spiritual disorder of human contact which it can be felt by the teacher holds to a foot problem, Reiki will generally be more of masculine energy.This will help ensure that their time spent in surgery for the proper solution of main approach should be kept confidential.As you know, the more I learned to appreciate more each day is not unusual - but a metaphorical example, however I think this can be helped by reiki expert.In people with financial difficulties have taken more risks or might have a treatment with Bach Flower treatment and his pain had nothing to do for her.

Reiki Level 1 Attunement

In this recovery craft, an individual experience which have problem, the treatment is one-hour long and never come close to personal taste.Every day for at least use distant Reiki healing usually takes at least one free reiki course and be able to heal your physical body through the balancing of the above scenario.I truly appreciate and respect those who can gain from this process is taking time to master.The client, who is patient and it is a positive experience to cure a sick or unhealthy area, it is obvious that Reiki is a language we perhaps knew as children, but then a healing tool since the introduction of Reiki, Mrs. Hawayo TakataOnly you can decide if this is used to work in that no matter where you need to ask them about the conflict and sadness I have seen first hand placement today, is on the body whose vital energy has restored in the West in alternative forms of medical treatment.

Though, it is like a scam - but you still not taken me up on a single client during a Reiki session.This is being recommended to go out and meet your needs.The difference being that the magic that would require superseding something we don't want.After learning all these questions from such teachings.It works well in conjunction with all other approaches.

[rcajackhardiker]

Sorting Things Out: Classification and Its Consequences - Geoffrey C. Bowker and Susan Leigh Star

This has been an important book for my project, returning me to the topic of classification. The book explores the role of categories and standards in shaping the modern world. It investigates a variety of classification systems, including the classification of diseases, the Nursing Interventions Classification, race classification under apartheid in South Africa, and the classification of viruses. The book touches on points covered in my dissertation such as information black-boxes, and the issues raised by Haraway around objectivity. The book also takes a similar archeological approach to my dissertation. It’s quite surprising and depressing that this book was written in 1999. It feels like very little has progressed in terms of people’s wariness of classification - which is especially concerning in light of ongoing AI developments. 

I began transcribing important moments in the book...the list got rather long!

Remarkably for such a central part of our lives, we stand for the most part in formal ignorance of the social and moral order created by these invisible, potent entities. p.3

Information scientists work every day on the design, delegation, and choice of classification systems and standards, yet few see them as artefacts embodying moral and aesthetic choices that in turn craft people’s identities, aspirations, and dignity. p.4

Foucault’s (1970; 1982) work comes the closest to a thoroughgoing examination in his arguments that an archaeological dig is necessary to find the origins and consequences of a range of social categories and practices. p.5

No one, including Foucault, has systematically tackled the question of how these properties inform social and moral order via the new technological and electronic infrastructures. Few have looked at the creation and maintenance of complex classifications as a kind of work practice, with its attendant financial, skill and moral dimensions. p.5

Every link in hypertext creates a category. That is, it reflects some judgment about two ore more objects: they are the same, or alike, or functionally linked, or linked as part of an unfolding series. p.7

In this, a cross-disciplinary approach is critical. Any information systems design that neglects use and user semantics is bound for trouble down the line - it will become either oppressive or irrelevant. p.7

- Who does what work? We explore the fact that all this magic involves much work: there is a lot of hard labor in effortless ease. Such invisible work is often not only underpaid, it is severely underrepresented in theoretical literature (Star and Strauss 1999). We will discuss where all the “missing work” that makes things look magical goes. p.9

Classification: A classification is a spatial, temporal, or spatio-temporal segmentation of the world. A “classification system” is a set of boxes (metaphorical or literal) into which things can be put to then do some kind of work - bureaucratic or knowledge production p.10

The system is not complete. With respect to the items, actions, or areas under its consideration, the ideal classification system provides total coverage of the world it describes. So, for example, a botanical classifier would not simply ignore a newly discovered plant, but would always strive to name it. A physician using a diagnostic classification must enter something into the patient’s record where a category is called for; where unknown, the possibility exists of a medical discovery, to be absorbed into the complete system of classifying. No real-world working classification system that we have looked at meets these “simple” requirements and we doubt that any ever could. p.11

It is a struggle to step back from this complexity and think about the issue of ubiquity rather than try to trace the myriad connections in any one case. The ubiquity of classifications and standards is curiously difficult to see, as we are quite schooled in ignoring both, for a variety of interesting reasons. We also need concepts for understanding movements, textures, and shifts that will grasp patterns within the ubiquitous larger phenomenon. The distribution of residual categories (“not elsewhere classified” or “other”) is one such concept. “Others” are everywhere, structuring social order. pp.38-39

An Aristotelian classification works according to a set of binary characteristics that the object being classified either presents or does not present. At each level of classification, enough binary features are adduced to place any member of a given population into one and only one class. p.62

Goodwin (1996) provides an elegant description of working student archaeologists matching patches of earth against a standard set of colour patches in the Munsell colour charts. He argues that earlier cognitive anthropological work on colour assumed a universal genetic origin for colour recognition, but failed to examine the kinds of practices that informed the ways in which colour tests were designed and carried out in the course of this research. p.65

The classification system that is the ICD does more than provide a series of boxes into which diseases can be put; it also encapsulates a series of stories that are the preferred narratives of the ICD’s designers. pp.77-78

One of this book’s central arguments is that classification systems are often sites of political and social struggles, but that these sites are difficult to approach. Politically and socially charged agendas are often first presented as purely technical and they are difficult even to see. As layers of classification system become enfolded into a working infrastructure, the original political intervention becomes more and more firmly entrenched. p.196

“If you’re black and pretend you’re Coloured, the police has the pencil test.” “The pencil test?” “Oh, yes, sir. They sticks a pencil in your hair and you has to bend down, and if your hair holds the pencil, that shows it’s too woolly, too thick. You can’t be Coloured with woolly hair like that. You go to stay black, you see.” (Sowden 1968, 184) p.212

In the early pre-apartheid days, it was easier to change race category than it became later. Kahn notes that “between 1911 and 1921… some fifty thousand individuals disappeared from the coloured population rolls” (1966, 51). Many families living in the categorical borderlands went to great length to establish themselves as white, keeping photos (sometimes fabricated) of white ancestors (Boronstein 1988, 55).

Language and Race as Conflicting Categories: There are thousands of ironic and tragic cases where classification and reclassification separated families, disrupted biographies, and damaged individuals beyond repair. The rigid boxes of race disregarded, among other things, important linguistic differences, especially among African tribal languages. p.218

The Case of Sandra Laing - “Ten-year-old Sandra Laing slipped unnoticed into the school cloakroom. She made sure she was alone, then picked up a can of white scouring powder and hastily sprinkled her face, arms and hands. Remembering the teasing she had just endured in the schoolyard during recess, she began scrubbing vigorously, trying to wash off the natural brown colour of her skin.” (Ebony 1968, 85)m - p.221

Invisible Categories - an anecdote related to  literary critic Alice Deck: In the 1930s, an African-American woman travels to South Africa. In the Captetown airport, she looks around for a toilet. She finds four, labeled: “White Women”, “Colored Women,” “White Men,” and “Colored Men.” (Colored in this context means Asian.) She is uncertain what to do; there are no toilets for “Black Women” or “Black Men,” since black Africans under the apartheid regime are not expected to travel, and she is among the first African Americans to visit South Africa. She is forced to make a decision that will cause her embarrassment or even police harassment. p.245

Three social institutions, more than any others, claim perfect memory: the institutions of science, the law, and religion. p.275

Scientific professionals, thought, have often claimed that by its very nature science displays perfect memory. p. 275

Information, in Bateson’s famous definition, is about differences that make a difference. Designers of classification schemes constantly have to decide what really makes a difference; along the way they develop an economy of knowledge that articulates clearance and erasure and ensure that all and only relevant features of the object (a disease, a body, a nursing intervention) being classified are remembered. In this case, the classification system can be incorporated into an information infrastructure that is delegated the role of paying due attention. A corollary of the “if it moves, count it” theory is the proposition “if you can’t see it moving, forget it.” The nurses we looked at tried to guarantee that they would not be forgotten (wiped from the record) by insisting that the information infrastructure pay due attention to their activities. p. 281

This final part of the book attempts to weave the threads from each of the chapters into a broader theoretical fabric. Thought the book we have demonstrated that categories are tied to the things that people do; to the worlds to which they belong. In large-scale systems those worlds often come into conflict. The conflicts are resolved in a variety of ways. Sometimes boundary objects are created that allow for cooperation across borders. At other times, such as in the case of apartheid, voices are stifled and violence obtains. p.283

Assigning things, people, or their actions to categories is a ubiquitous part of work in the modern, bureaucratic state. Categories in this sense arise from work and from other kinds of organised activity, including the conflicts over meaning that occur when multiple groups fight over the nature of a classification system and its categories. p.285

One of the interesting features of communication is that, broadly speaking, to be perceived, information must reside in more than one context. We know what something is by contrast with what it is not. Silence makes musical notes perceivable; conversation is understood as a contrast of contexts, speaker and hearer, wonders, breaks and breaths. In turn, in order to be meaningful, these contexts of information must be relinked through some sort of judgement of equivalence or comparability. This occurs at all levels of scale, and we all do it routinely as part of everyday life. pp.290-291

Consider, for example, the design of a computer system to support collaborative writing. Eevi Beck (1995, 53) studied the evolution of one such system where “how two authors, who were in different places, wrote an academic publication together making use of computers. The work they were doing and the way in which they did it was inseparable from their immediate environment and the culture which it was part of.” To make the whole system work, they had to juggle time zones, spouses’ schedules, and sensitivities about parts of work practice such as finishing each other’s sentences as well as manipulating the technical aspects of writing software and hardware. p.291

The marginal person, who is for example of mixed race, is portrayed as the troubled outsider; just as the thing that does not fit into one bin or another gets put into a “residual” category. p.300

The myriad of classifications and standards that surround and support the modern world, however, often blind people to the importance of the “other” category as constitutive of the whole social architecture (Derrida 1980).

Such “marginal” people have long been of interest to social scientists and novelists alike. Marginality as a technical term in sociology refers to human membership in more than one community of practice. p.302

Marginality is an interesting paradoxical concept for people and things. On the one hand, membership means the naturalisation of objects that mediate action. On the other, everyone is a member of multiple communities of practice. p.302

“I am an East Ender therefore I must talk like this; and I must drink such and such a brand of beer.” Aided by bureaucratic institutions, such cultural features take on a real social weight. If official documents force an Anglo-Australian to choose one identity or the other - and if friends and colleagues encourage that person, for the convenience of small talk, to make a choice - then they are likely to become ever more Australian, suffering alongside his or her now fellow country people if new immigration measures are introduced in America or if “we” lose a cricket test. The same process occurs with objects - once a film has been thrown into the x-rated bin, then there is a strong incentive for the director to make it really x-rated; once a house has been posted as condemned, then people will feel free to trash it. p.311

“Similarity is an institution” Mary Douglas (1986, 55) p.312

In this book we demonstrate that classifications should be recognised as the significant site of political and ethical work that they are. p.319

In the past 100 years, people in all lines of work have jointly constructed and incredible, interlocking set of categories, standards, and means for interoperating infrastructural technologies. We hardly know what we have built. p.319

The moral questions arise when the categories of the powerful become the taken for granted; when policy decisions are layered into inaccessible technological structures; when one group’s visibility comes at the expense of another’s suffering. p.320

The importance lies in a fundamental rethinking of the nature of information systems. We need to recognise political values, modulated by local administrative procedures. These systems are active creators of categories in the world as well as simulators of existing categories. p.321

Often using innovative techniques such as imaginary devices, but not traditional formulaic means, they achieved the right answer the wrong way. One child called this “the dirt way.” p.321

We have suggested one design aid here - long-term and detailed ethnographic and historical studies of information systems in use - so that we can build up an analytic vocabulary appropriate to the task. p.323

- Rendering voice retrievable. As classification systems get ever more deeply embedded into working infrastructures, they risk getting black boxed and thence made both potent and invisible. By keeping the voice of classifiers and their constituents present, the system can retain maximum political flexibility. This includes the key ability to be able to change with changing natural, organisational, and political imperatives. p.325

This integration began roughly in the 1850s, coming to maturity in the late nineteenth century with the flourishing of systems of standardisation for international trade and epidemiology. p.326

On a pessimistic view, we are taking a series of increasingly irreversible steps toward a given set of highly limited and problematic descriptions of what the world is and how we are in the world. p.326

We have argued that a key for the future is to produce flexible classifications whose users are aware of their political and organisational dimensions and which explicitly retain traces of their construction. In the best of all possible worlds, at any given moment, the past could be reordered to better reflect multiple constituencies now and then. p.326

In this same optimal world, we could tune our classifications to reflect new institutional arrangements or personal trajectories - reconfigure the world on the fly. The only good classification is a living classification. p.326