#and then a single positive line connecting veils and wines

[thegreatyin]

honestly the more i learn about master interpersonal dynamics the more i find it funny that veils and wines are just like. buddies. yeah bag a legend is A Thing That Happens but before that point they're the closest thing to friendly in this entire bat flock?? they're like friends adjacent??? which is. utterly incomprehensible. what does veils see in it

[preservationandruin]

Rhythm Of War Liveblog Part One, Part 1 (Chapters 1-2)

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On to Part One of Rhythm of War, after I finish screaming at the ghost of Gavilar Kholin. Actually, we can’t wait for that, I’m never going to be done screaming at the ghost of Gavilar Kholin. 

Our POVs are Kaladin, Shallan, Navani, Venli, and Lirin--so Kal’s family is coming back to prominence, I guess. It’s a short update, but I gotta go to work. 

Lirin talks about the ethics of continuing a hopeless fight, Syl lets loose an “I told you so” first thing, we see a new and terrifying variant of Fused, I come up with a new, more accurate name for the Sons of Honor; Veil finally gets kidnapped; I start getting philosophical about the ethics of continuing a hopeless fight; and Kaladin organizes an airlift. 

Epigraphs for this part seem to be a lecture that Navani gave on how to trap spren in fabrials, so that’s cool.

Alright, so our timing here is a year after the fall of Alethkar, and Herdaz has been next on the Voidbringers’ target list. They’ve been fighting the entire time, but the voidbringers have intensified their assault and now refugees are pouring into the villages in Alethkar; Lirin is insisting on examining everyone as they come in, making sure that he can find people who need treatment early. The leader of Hearthstone now is Brightness Abiajan--from the name, I’m assuming she’s one of the singers. 

Also, apparently someone is coming through this line today that Lirin is anxious about. Abiajan comes to talk to Lirin, wondering if he has no compassion because he’s so numb to others’ suffering--he explains that he has to numb it to survive as a surgeon. She mentions that he set her arm, once, when she was a child. Also, hilariously, Abiajan says that plaguespren cause plague and that the idea that it’s improper sanitation is superstition. 

Laral, Kaladin’s childhood friend, is helping out now, determined. Apparently the person that Lirin is worried about is a Herdazian general; Lirin does see him as responsible for much of the current strife for continuing to fight; however, he’s not going to turn him in, and instead has contacted Kaladin to come pick him up while Laral helps Roshone make a distraction. 

Lirin’s condemnation of continuing a hopeless war as something that just gets people killed and is stupid (”Heroism is a myth you tell idealistic young people. It got one of my sons killed and another taken from me”) makes sense and is deeply sad. It’s also a good second perspective on the fact that so much of Roshar’s narrative has been about being forced to choose between two bad options and having the resolve to find another path or stick with the honorable thing--Lirin here is a reminder that that’s not always an option and sometimes makes things worse. “I obey the person who holds the sword to my neck, General, same as I always have.” 

Heroism isn’t always an option. Heroism can get you killed and hurt the people around you. You have to be willing to take responsibility for that in order to try heroism, and that’s some of what Kaladin has had to struggle with, too--the fact that he can’t protect everyone and that his actions will lead to death sometimes.

Also, shoutout to Roshone for actually making a distraction here, good on you buddy. Anyway Lirin noticed that the parshmen always focus on what appears to be the person being seen to rather than, say, the people carrying the litter--probably because they’re used to the people doing those menial tasks being unnoticed and unspoken to, and have absorbed that norm of society? I don’t know, but Lirin is exploiting it. 

Oh man, someone has visited Hearthstone, someone who Abiajan refers to as having blessed them, and she demands that Lirin come with her and that nobody leave the town. It’s one of the Fused, and it’s interrogating people about Kaladin--and they noticed that Kaladin was there, and Lirin notes that he barely recognizes Kaladin anymore, referring to him as the “harsh man Kaladin had become.” 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, just let Kaladin babysit people this book, let him rest, he deserves it. I mean, what’s happening is him having to fight again, but he deserves rest.  

Cut to Kaladin’s perspective, Syl is delivering an “I told you so” about them being spotted, which is so relentlessly on-brand. Kaladin notes that he’s not looking at Lirin to avoid giving Lirin away, and also because “he knew what he would see. disappointment. So, nothing new.” 

HEY. SOMEONE LOVE AND APPRECIATE KALADIN STORMBLESSED PLEASE HE’S DOING HIS BEST. 

Meanwhile,  Kaladin is learning the different “orders” of Fused; he’s mostly dealt with the shanay-im, “those of the heavens,” who share the flight of windrunners. Apparently Jasnah posited there would be ten orders, logically, and Dalinar--offering no explanation for how he knew--said it would only be nine. I mean, at this point if anyone knows Odium it’s Dalinar. 

Also, this Fused has learned not to do single combat, which is Kaladin’s normal mode of dealing with them. I wonder if the order they’re modelled after affects their behavior--honorspren create windrunners, and agreeing to a one-on-one duel is a very honorable thing to do. Maybe there’s more connection there than either side wants to realize. 

Ok, so what we know about this new Fused: 

Teleports via shooting their spren forward, then forming a new body of voidlight and stone where they end up. 

Probably elsecaller-linked (teleportation and then forming things out of energy) 

Favors exploiting teleportation to allow for a grappling fighting style and sneaking into blind spots extremely quickly (big rogue energy) 

Teleportation ability is extremely costly, can only be done three times before needing to recharge on Voidlight. 

Does not teleport instantaneously; the spren-travel can be outrun, as Kaladin does by lashing himself forward five times (so, approximately five times the speed of gravity on Roshar, which is not gravity’s speed on earth, is faster than them; they’re considerably slower than light, even though that’s what they look like)

Can’t transport objects/make them from voidlight; clothing is a hair wrap and weapons are fragments of their skin

He leaves but tells Kaladin to watch for him; it also seems like Kaladin’s depression is coming back. Syl shows up to talk to him, wearing a different style--she’s been taking fashion notes from Adolin, which is hilarious. 

Meanwhile, Veil is wandering around the Sadeas warcamps, irritated that she hasn’t been kidnapped yet, or even mugged. Also, Veil and Shallan are apparently teaching Radiant to appreciate humor, which is great. Adolin and his soldiers are apparently backing her up for this hopeful kidnapping, which is reassuring--I’m glad she’s not going it alone, although she’s very competent. She’s pretending to be a merchant who has a way in past Dalinar’s tariffs and is also implying he doesn’t have the authority to demand them. 

Ooh, specifically Shallan is hunting the Hypocrite’s Association, which is what I’m calling the Sons of Honor for the moment I guess. For a moment, while they’re doing accounting, Shallan starts having a bit of a memory come back; Veil suggests it might be time to remember everything, but Shallan shuts that down. 

Apparently, in the grand tradition of Sadeases not knowing when they’re beaten, Ialai is plotting treason. Ialai, how did that go for the last two Brightlords Sadeas? I’m begging you, quit while you’re...behind, honestly. But still alive. Anyway, the wine was drugged--finally--so they have officially been kidnapped! 

Back to Kaladin,  Syl is trying to convince him that it’s easy to sleep, he just has to lie down and pretend to be dead for a few hours (oh, Syl, honey, you’re trying to help but that’s not...that’s not it) but Kaladin is noting that it feels like life is strangely disconnected for him, like it keeps going for everyone else and he’s in stasis. 

Chronic depression is a bitch. 

Syl cheers him up by doing a terrible Kaladin impression, though. I love her. Kaladin goes back to talk to the singers, telling them that there’s a shelter half an hour to the east and telling them not to fight if they don’t want to die. They, of course, fight, which Kaladin doesn’t like; it’s very Alethi of them, though, to throw themselves forward. 

Again, we’re back to whether or not there’s heroism in fighting a fight you can’t win. Even with Ialai, kind of--continuing to fight against Dalinar when she can’t win it. Hopeless fights are all well and good when your protagonists do them and it works, this part seems to be pointing out, but what if they fail? And how does it feel to be on the other side of them? 

Anyway, the others retreat, and Kaladin gets to meet with his mom and baby Oroden (who pronounces his name as “Gagadin;” i’m gonna CRY). Syl always appears to Kal’s family. Also, apparently Kaladin was dating Lyn, which is wild because I’m almost positive based on her appearance last book that she’s gay as fuck, and she broke up with him. Also, Syl and Hesina are ganging up on Kaladin and it’s great. 

"It’s demonstrably unfair that I have to deal with both of you at once,” Kaladin said. 

Meanwhile it also turns out that the Radiants haven’t been supporting Herdaz because they saw it falling as inevitable, but it’s continued fighting against all odds. Another perspective: is it alright to abandon others fighting a fight that you assume is impossible, when it could be winnable with your strength? 

Also, apparently the Mink likes to sneak away from his guards without letting them notice, and he’s done it again here. That’s pretty impressive, I’ve got to say, although Kaladin is aghast at the idea of leaving one’s men behind like that (of course). 

Also, Kaladin organized one of Navani’s platforms to essentially airlift out all of Hearthstone. Trying to save as many people as he can, even still. 

[sinceileftyoublog]

Pearl Charles Interview: A Portal to Yourself

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Like looking into its title object, Pearl Charles’ new album Magic Mirror follows external observations to internal reflection, the journey from feeling the sparkling lights of a city to instead finding something within yourself. Out Friday via Kanine Records, the album has an arc that follows a similar move in Charles’ life, from Los Angeles where she was born to the desert of Joshua Tree. Don’t let the sparkling piano lines of opener “Only For Tonight” fool you--at its heart, Magic Mirror is very much a spacious and cosmically insular album, exploring the infinity of intrinsic motivations buoyed by artistic influences and inspirations. Throughout, Charles doesn’t pretend to know the answers but poses important questions nonetheless: Is having a creative identity really you, or just a persona? Who remembers us after we leave the earthly realm? Is love truly the end-all powerful entity we think it to be? Notably, she stylistically harks back to other pop singers and songwriters who have wondered the same things, from the longing nostalgia of ABBA to the breezy psychedelia of Todd Rundgren. 

Last month, I spoke to Charles over the phone from her new home in Landers where she and hey boyfriend and bandmate Michael Rault have just moved and are starting to build up into a studio. We talked about the different genres Magic Mirror encapsulates, the role weed and psychedelics play in Charles’ creative process, and why she doesn’t sleep on planes. Read the interview, edited for length and clarity, below.

Since I Left You: What about Magic Mirror is unique to you as compared to anything else you’ve released?

Pearl Charles: I think there are a couple specific points that are different. One, I used my band that I use on the road on this record. There were some members of my road band on the last record, but I used a lot of session musicians. I used some session musicians here, too, but overall, I feel like this band was my band for the last record’s tour cycle. We toured really hard on that last record. They really got to know me, and we got to work on the songs before we made a bunch of different demos and practice them live. We got to workshop them and figured out how they worked best. I also got to play them the type of music I love, and we really got to know each other, musically and as friends. Those guys really got me, and this record is very personal. Having those people who spent time with the material also spend time with me really comes across in the record. I feel like we achieved that.

SILY: It’s really stylistically diverse. Did you know going into the writing process the different aesthetics you wanted to explore, or did they come naturally?

PC: A little bit of both. Some of the songs were written really organically, and I didn’t know how they’d end up sounding. But I wrote a few songs with the producer [Lewis Pesacov], and at that point in the cycle, we already had a style that was emerging and revealing itself. So then we could ask, “What don’t we have that we can include, and what’s the theme, so that we can figure out what’s already there and how we can expand on that?” It’s diverse, but it’s music I love. I have diverse taste, and the music reflected that.

SILY: You’ve mentioned ABBA as an influence on the opening track “Only For Tonight”, and I definitely heard that as soon as it started. It’s a pretty bold move for an opening track!

PC: That was the first song we sat down to record, besides “Sweet Sunshine Wine” which was recorded separately to be released as a single last year, which we included on this record because it never got a vinyl release. You start thinking about the record sequence in your mind in the order of when you recorded things. And then you go back and kind of lose that order, a little bit. But since we started with it, it felt like such a big opener. And the story of the record is chronological: It starts out with that side of the story. It made sense to open up with going out on the town and having one-night stands, which turns into the reflection that comes later in the album and the following processes that occur.

SILY: The chronology stands out for sure. For instance, it’s immediately apparent that “Don’t Feel Like Myself” answers the questions and builds off the themes from “Imposter”. Were you trying to have the songs converse with each other?

PC: Not necessarily intentionally from when I was writing them, but I think they do that naturally because that’s what was going on with me in this process. It’s all tied together with my emotions. I’m very autobiographical in my writing, so the songs are definitely about what I’m experiencing. Another thing different from this record to the last record is that while the last record had a little introspection, it was more about what was happening to me in the external world. This album, I kind of focused more about how I was feeling about the things that were happening [in] me.

SILY: “Imposter” poses a key question that seems to be posed throughout the record, one about fostering a creative identity. Do you feel like you’ve done that on Magic Mirror just by presenting your different artistic inspirations?

PC: Yeah! I think so. I think it’s a lifelong pursuit of questioning the self, and the album is one step of that journey, but it is reflective of all of the things I was feeling at the time and the music I was listening to and what I was inspired by and continue to be inspired by, whether that’s music, spirituality, or literature.

SILY: So “Imposter” was written on mushrooms, and the title track has a weed reference. There’s also the line on the title track, “I keep trippin’ into you.” Am I reading into it or is that a double meaning, too?

PC: It’s totally a double meaning. They’re there throughout, and even on my last record, Sleepless Dreamer. That title means a lot of different things. [laughs] Also on “Only For Tonight”, the line “Sparkle fading, strung out on the town / Thought we were falling, we were just coming down.” Yes. You’re not mistaken. Those are all thinly veiled drug references. I mean, hey, I’m a rock ‘n’ roller. What can I say? [laughs] I definitely am a stoner. I smoke a lot of weed and I love psychedelics. They can be so inspiring and therapeutic and good for creativity. And for self-reflection. That’s really what I’m about. That’s why I love writing songs. It’s a great tool for that if you want to use it that way.

SILY: When writing “Slipping Away”, you were high in a different way, on a plane! When you fly, do you tend to reflect? You don’t just fall asleep on the plane?

PC: In this world, there’s so much distraction. Being on the plane, I suppose you can get internet now if you pay for it, and you can choose to be connected, but it’s one of the last experiences where you can disconnect and go into your thoughts without tons of distractions. I also think a lot when I’m driving, and I know I’m actually the one driving the car and have to be focused on that, but it gives me a good opportunity to clear my head. I’m not looking at my phone, and I think that’s so crucial. Patti Smith said something about living in New York and taking the subway, and in that time, she would come up with a lot of her ideas because she’d let her mind wander. We live in a world where letting our mind wander is kind of a rarity. We’ve allowed ourselves to constantly fill the void because looking into the void can be scary. But that’s where the creativity is. It’s a beautiful thing even though it’s overwhelming.

SILY: When you find yourself looking into the void, do you ever have anything on in the background, like music?

PC: It depends. I’m a huge music freak. But if I’m writing, I need to be in my own zone. If I’m sitting back and reflecting, I love listening to music. It’s so emotional for me and can bring up and create all sorts of feelings.

SILY: The back half of the record seems to have a lot of unique arrangements and instrumentation. You mentioned “All The Way” is inspired by Todd Rundgren. The guitars really reminded me of George Harrison. Are you a big Beatles fan?

PC: I’m a super huge solo Beatles fan. I love The Beatles, too, but Wings is one of my favorite bands ever, and I love the George solo stuff. And I love the John solo stuff! And you know what? I even love Ringo’s solo stuff. Sue me, what can I say! I love the Traveling Wilburys, I love it all. I love 70′s sounds, styles, and instrumentation. I also think Todd Rundgren kind of reminds me of Carole King.

SILY: “Take Your Time” seems to be the most vocal-forward track on the record. How do you approach your voice in the mix of these songs in terms of how up front you want it to be?

PC: That’s a really hard decision. I feel like it’s a fine line whether you want to be a part of the band or whether you want to sit up front. I don’t really love to cloak my voice in reverb, because my voice and what I’m saying is the focal point of the songs. But it’s definitely a balance, and it’s more modern to put it more forward.

SILY: I think I can tell why you wanted to close the record with “As Long As You’re Mine”. On the surface, you might read the lyrical formula [“[insert world problem] doesn’t matter as long as you’re mine”] as apathetic, but looking closer, it comes across as “It doesn’t matter” not because these things don’t affect people with varying degrees of severity, but because the power of friendship and love can overcome. Can you talk about that theme and how you’ve come to terms with it?

PC: I wrote that song pre-pandemic, so there was no predicting how much worse things were gonna get. It’s a little tongue-in-cheek. Despite the fact that there are hard times now and in the future. Hopefully there’s some hope and positivity coming forward. “Times are gonna be tough, but we can get through it together,” is the point, but coming at it with a little bit of...what’s the word I’m looking for?

SILY: Facetiousness?

PC: Yeah, exactly. I wrote the song with my producer, who said, “Write a positive song!” and that’s what I came up with. My manager, I remember when we wrote it, I remember there was a fire happening, before all the fires this year, and he was like, “I don’t know, is this gonna offend people?” The whole thing has the potential to offend people if they’re gonna be offended by it, but it’s half a joke and half serious. It’s pointing out the fact that there are a lot of problems in the world that can be fixed, not to make light of them.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

PC: I knew I wanted my friend Dana Trippe to do it. Sydney Costley did the hair and makeup. I found an image I really loved but didn’t know how to get in touch with the artist or license it for the cover. I told Dana the inspiration, that it was a portal with an archway where the outside was a blue sky and clouds and the inside a night sky with a shooting star. The album name came to me in a dream. I led it lead me where it wanted to go. The idea of a magic mirror as a portal to one’s self, through self-reflection or with psychedelics. It really made sense to me, and the image spoke to me, so we went for something cloud-oriented.

SILY: You’ve done some livestreams. How did you adapt these songs to a live performance?

PC: It’s been really hard because of COVID to balance when is safe to play music with people and when isn’t. We all wear masks except for me. It’s hard to translate the album because it’s a layered record. I really like this version of it because we're still able to have a 5-piece band with pedal steel, electric guitar, neon acoustic guitar, and bass and drums. The one thing we’re missing is keys, and the record is a keys-heavy record, but it’s fun to do this cosmic country version of the band that sounds like the Dead. It feels really good to play that rootsy, dirt in your veins kind of stuff in the desert.

SILY: The pedal steel for sure stood out to me on the record because it was juxtaposed with keys in a way you normally don’t hear them together.

PC: I love including it whenever I can. Michael [Rault], my boyfriend, plays guitar, and Catfish [Connor Gallaher], plays steel, including on the record. They’re both great at what they do. Getting to see them is a pleasure.

SILY: Have you thought about doing any socially distant live shows?

PC: I feel a little weird about ticket prices. Music should be accessible, and not only for the people that can afford a private show. It’s a weird time, for sure. I miss playing live and playing new music for people.

SILY: What else is next for you?

PC: I’m gonna do a side project band with my boyfriend, and because the record was finished pre-pandemic, I had the whole pandemic to write a bunch of new material. I’m ready to go with new songs, so hopefully they’ll be coming shortly thereafter.

SILY: What have you been listening to, watching, and reading lately?

PC: I’ve been listening to a lot of Mixcloud playlists. We finally got HBO Max, and it seems like they have a lot of really good content, like true crime, the Heaven’s Gate documentary about that cult. I’m really into cults. I love to go to the library and just returned Journey To The East by Herman Hesse, a book about Fleetwood Mac, which goes through all eras of the band, before Rumours, the Peter Green era, the Bob Welch era. There are so many different incarnations, and they’re all amazing. Fleetwood Mac is one of the best bands of all time, and I like to read rock books. Just keepin’ busy.

[marquis-teren-kiden]

“You shouldn’t.”

                          ��                                                05/21/37

The Western Porch Teren’s Mansion in the Nishan Marche

Stepping out onto the Western porch, Teren looks out toward the Great Garden with a soft sigh. Having dressed in navy blue slacks, a loosely buttoned powder blue shirt, and little else when he left Lycan's bedroom in the pre-dawn twilight, it seemed a meaningless waste of a beautiful sunrise to return for more suitable attire. Moving beyond the immediacy of the perfectly manicured landscaping, the nobleman arrives to stand amidst the lush green grasses beyond his porch, dropping his sapphire hues to the lush lawn as morning dew soaks his bare feet, eliciting a soothing sound from deep within him.

Depositing himself on his buttocks in the wet greenery, Teren soon sprawls his long limbs outward, closing his eyes as his body soaks up the icy chill with the same relaxed acceptance others might a warm bath. With a look of abject serenity on his face, his eyelids part felinely, shut enough to allow him to take in the first rays of sunlight cresting over the horizon.

The tumult his own thoughts had set him in for the last several weeks seemed somehow to still in those first few moments where he was alone in every meaningful sense to simply bask in the present - the moment - without being doused in conflicting necessities.

He was not, however, alone in his own mind for long. Soon, new thoughts - not his own - focused themselves on the Psionicist, sending him once more into the tumult of confusion that had suffered him for several hours over the last two days.

Adilynia Silverfall. 

A month ago the name meant absolutely nothing to him, and with it - the woman who bore it. 

Three weeks ago, she was a lifeline to his Twin, albeit inadvertantly so; and his sibling’s salvation as well.

Two weeks ago, she was wholly initiated into his household. Invited to partake in the lives of those he most cherished, and to make herself comfortable within the Mansion; with clear caveats for those matters which might lead her to personal harm or injury. 

A week ago, he felt a kinship to the wounded spirit she safeguarded. So much of Lochlyn in the little Paladin; though the two were clearly born of differentiations in appearance and position, there was no denying that the two Shieldmaidens would have been fast and steady comrades on any front line.

In that understanding, it had been easy to speak to her as he did. To treat her as another budding and soon to be cherished friend. 

And then...it all came crashing down around them in a single moment of insecurity. In no other moment between them had she so crisply defined the proverbial battle lines between them than to flee from him the way she had, as he attempted to liberate her from his Lover’s relentless teasing. 

Not Lycan.

Him.

That a Lord of the Marche - any Lord in the Nishan Federation - should find themselves incapable of instilling the sense of calm and safety she deserved was a bitter pill. To be the failing noble in question left him feeling exhausted and impotent. 

Long after their last discussion, he’d settled himself on a new course. That he should eliminate all but the most chaste displays of effection between himself and any other in his home, unless those actions were to take place within the discretion of his Study, or more practicably, Lycan’s suite within the Mansion. To that end, he’d spent much of his birthday confined to his Study, taking time with Lycan, Annest and the Twins, while leaving the remainder of his home for the Quel’Dorei to take liberty with. 

A weighty sigh falls from his lips as he continues to watch the thin veil of warm lighting drift lazily up along the horizon to birth a new day for several minutes to come. He could hear the ambient emotions trickling through her as she caught sight of him, fixing him with her teal gaze, and while he could have made effort to acknowledge her arrival, he’d no intention of feeding that nervous energy that seemed to wrap around her every time she took notice of him. Ah, to want and want and never say a word. 

She was utterly foreign to him. Not only as an Elf - for he knew not many, and only one other Quel’Dorei Knight - but also as a woman. He knew women who felt such hungers toward him; some he took, others he left as they had been - unharmed and unmolested by his affections - with little more thought than he might have considered in taking up or leaving behind a bottle of fine wine. 

Though others might have argued it, he was equally familiar with those women who held no particular desire or interest in him, and they, too, he left to their own preferences with no wounded pride to show. Sexuality was, perhaps, the most subjective reality of all, and he’d never seen reason to interject opinion on another’s affairs in that regard; save only those few he’d encountered who did seek such concourse without consent from their partners. 

Adilynia, however, was somehow both, and neither. For she clearly held a hunger to touch and be touched by him. She seemed struck upon each encounter when her own body sought his, even for the vaguest touch of a hand, or the briefest hug. Yet, in all other means, she abstained his keeping, and it was those conscious choices, he took his understanding of how best he ought proceed.

Until the soft rustle of wet grasses shifting caught his ear, and the bustle of a mult-tiered pixie-ish sundress swished into view before him as she inexplicably settled herself beside him on the dew laden lawn.

Without a word shared between them, the two lay on their backs with their respective gazes set upon the sunlight as it crested over the verdant landscape set before them. For that brief and shimmering moment, they held the same pristine belief that the Light of a new Dawn had blessed them. 

As Adilynia rises up on one elbow, her focus shifts from the sunlight shimmering pearlescently along her pale skin to the dew-soaked nobleman beside her, beckoning him with a hand. The weight of that curious entreaty is more than enough indication that it is, perhaps, time for a strategic retreat on Teren’s part. Languidly returning to his feet, he accepts her offered hand, if only to offer her a proper choice to enter inside the Mansion or remain planted in the nearby grass at her will.

The way she accepts his offered hand - interlacing their fingers as she stands, drawing their conjoined digits to rest at her left breast above the thready pulse of her heart beating haphazardly in her chest - garners a curiously lofted brow. Despite the protracted silence which had continued long enough that even the ever-astute Priest couldn’t have hazarded a guess as to why, though it was clearly a gesture intended to offer meaningful contact. To reassure him in some way that she would not lose her composure if he removed the edict he’d set forth to limit affections in his own home for her sake. 

If she’d understood the effect of setting a man’s hand - even inverse to the norm - against her modest breasts, she’d likely have fled him all over again. 

Then the little Paladin bowed to press her lips to the knuckles of his hand as they held one another’s gazes in utter silence; requiring yet more restraint on the part of the Priest as the electricity of that minor connection sent a thrill coursing from his flesh to his groin with adamant conviction; stealing his breath for a single compelling moment as he perused the teal-eyed woman for something more intelligible than the mixed assortment of communications she’d compiled in their last few moments. 

He’d have brought life to the myriad questions roaring through his mind, but her own were so incomplete. She didn’t have words in her mind. Only feelings. An assortment which left her frightened and convicted to return to his grace, despite having not given forethought to what form such recompense might take.

As her lips had lingered on his knuckles, Teren took several moments for his own sapphire hues to drift slowly downward, taking in the plump meat of her pink lips, tapered neck and pale decolletage appreciatively before continuing to the shapely rounds of her modest breasts and tapered waistline, halting there to return along that same path to meet her unwavering look of trust as rose petals bloomed across Adilynia’s cheeks and the narrow bridge of her nose as if she’d been kissed by one of the flowers in his garden.

True to the norm for most of his people, the Nishanian Lord was honest enough with himself about what he felt in the moment. The errant spark she’d inadertantly delivered had caught flame, and his sapphire hues had already begun to smolder with a fire he had every intention of quelling by returning to his Paramour and sating it there. 

Turning away from Adilynia, Teren coughs lightly, trying and failing to find suitable words to chide or coerce her to mind the words being spoken by her body as she so often preferenced in her spoken communications. Absent a polite turn of phrase, however, he merely waited in silence for her to relinquish his hand so he could take his leave.

She didn’t. Instead, she’d set her fingertips to stroke lighty along the stubble of his jaw, waiting for him to return his errant gaze to her, and leaving him on the verge of ransacking her mind for whatever answers seemed to be eluding them both, yet that seemed a far cry from the ambient awareness he held for surface thoughts. He couldn’t bring himself to take further liberty absent her becoming a threat. Instead, he simply asked her to speak plainly. “What would you have of me?”

The halting response showed integrity of thought in the moment, though little to indicate she’d stirred his loins for any specific purpose. "This... Listening to you breathe. Allowing yourself even a moment of peace." the Elf explains, continuing the warmth of her touch along the Priest’s jaw as she speaks in that hushed and lilting Thalassian cadence that wasn’t quite proper Common. After a brief pause she continued the thought. "That you would answer that same question in regards to me. Candidly....honestly...without thinking you will cause offense."

The initial response he understood. In it were words she’d strung across other conversations they had shared over the last few weeks. The latter words, however, were a disaster waiting to happen.

Relinquishing the exploratory fixation she’d had along Teren’s jaw, Adilynia drops her hand and her chin, all too aware of the destructive potential of the words she’d just spoken, but unwilling to retreat from them. Instead - after a protracted silence - the little Paladin... doubled down. "What... would you have of me?"

A loaded question if ever one had been posed to the man before her. Thus far she'd given every subtle sign of a woman seeking the affections of a man she only dared hope would take her notice, and the physical urges settling like fire in the nobleman’s veins and loins required significant effort on his part to quell. 

Given the question she’d posed, Teren understood that if he chose to answer as truthfully as requested, it would almonst certainly have sent the poor woman scurrying back to Quel'thalas. 

Which left him to offer only silence. Long, drawn out, and utterly uninterrupted by either party for several minutes. 

By the time the Priest has anything approaching an honest answer fit to speak, it seems almost pointless to do so, but he does. In a hushed baritone, the noble whispers life into the words spoken recalcitrantly. "I wish you to find your place within my home, in such a way that you feel safe to dwell within it while you remain." Was it the truth in the moment? No. In the moment, he felt desire suitable for few beyond his chosen Paramour. But, it was a truth. A thing he desired of and for her. He settled himself that, for now, the answer given would have to suffice for both of them.

"It should be an easy wish to make come true... now that I'm settled with the idea that I have a place..." Adilynia’s quiet admission came with her own far off look cast somewhere along the mansions exterior walls as her brows knit with another tangent of thought.  A new silence takes hold as she lets her thoughts drift; her eyes, too. As the teal hues return to their interlaced fingers, so do the Nobleman’s. With little thought as to the consequence of her own curious intention, the Quel’Dorei raises their clapsed hands higher, taking in the scent of lavender, sage, mint, patchouli and white rose petals which clung faintly from his skin, and the hinted at lemon of her own with a tranquil expression on her face.

Another crooked tip of her lips brings an unexpected admission. "Holding your hand.... makes me feel safe..." The first hint of her nervous disposition manifests in the form of a hitched breath at her own confession, followed almost immediately by teal orbs darting upward to meet Teren’s sapphire hues, as if waiting for the nobleman’s reaction.

The way she took in his scent caught at Teren's senses, the intimacy of the gesture hitching his breath and making him hyper aware of every other innocuous shift and sound that took place between them. The cadence of Adilynia's voice hushed just above a whisper of her own as she speaks imparts an ease to the concerns that had turned his spirits inward to chide and rend at him, even as he slept. 

The tease of her teal gaze along their interlaced digits and curling along the edges of her mouth reminds him - physically - that she is still speaking two languages when they are together. Her words and behavior still not in alignment with one another. As the first fires of her anxiety spark, he sets his now smoldering sapphire hues to her teal orbs with apology etched into his features, for he recognizes how much she has struggled to offer plain words without war to him. Adilynia’s softly spoken declaration arrives like a sin set against parched and hungry lips. 

Turning himself to properly face her, Teren shakes his head, even as the fingers of his free hand rise to gently settle along her cheek and he bows to lower his sapphire eyes level with her own. "You shouldn't." He murmurs softly, before pressing his mouth tenderly to hers, his fingers curling like spider's feet along the side of her jaw - resting along the side of her neck and beneath her ear lobe - while his tongue slips forward to tease her lips apart and sample the savory organ within.

[ @adilynia ]

[acim]

Ramblings on Limits on Faith

I laid there, my head in my boyfriend’s lap, resting against his warmth as he dozed off. Something dumb on TV was in the background, casting a bright white-blue light on two empty wine bottles on the coffee table. A tender scene of intimacy and comfort and simplicity, which I ruined. I had my phone in my hand, distracted as always, with a dating app open. My ass pics out, dick pics being sent to me left and right, all while I rested so unrestfully in my boyfriend’s lap; him being innocently unaware of what I was doing to him.

We somehow meandered to the bed and fell asleep there, but I woke up to him saying “is something wrong between us?” He had seen the texts somehow, which does not bother me, as I am an incredibly unprivate person. A deep dread entered me, and unfortunately it was not from some sense of guilt, which I should’ve felt, but instead it was from this fear and loathing for communicating to him something that he did not want to hear, for disappointing someone that I truly did care for. He cried to me, and as his heart broke I didn’t do the brave thing, I did not communicate why I did what I did and how I truly felt about our relationship, I blamed it on something else going on in my life and apologized; damage control that was blatantly a lie just to avoid the painful truth. 

Thankfully, he did not buy into my poorly-veiled damage control completely, he thought it was best to at least take a break, if not fully breakup. Words like music to my ears at the time. Through my actions I was able to communicate the truth of unhappiness between us, even though I should’ve communicated it so much sooner. We tried to stay friends after, but I could not stop judging him and seeing him not for who he was in the present but who he was in the past. I could not see his perfection as an image of God. I caused him so much pain and I ask for forgiveness for that.

I have never been truly faithful in any of my relationships, except for my most recent one, which was the only time I felt like I was truly even remotely present in a romantic relationship. He challenged me to be more present in and of myself and I am thankful for that, even though that relationship is over. And that challenge was so intriguing, it was the reason why that is the only time I had not at least redownloaded dating apps if not done more unfaithful things, during a relationship. And when I was dumped, the pain was so acute and sharp, like a nail bursting a balloon: suddenly, loudly, and violently. Just like a balloon popping, this pain woke me up to how unpresent I was due to my own disordered thinking. It also woke me to how poorly I had been treating people; I have treated people, even people I greatly and deeply cared for, as nothing more than interchangeable toys. Never truly creating that sacred space for connection between myself and someone else. Never truly seeing everyone I interact with romantically or platonically or professionally as the true and utter perfection they are.

Both here and in previous posts, I’ve hinted at from where this arises. My intense need to please people and never disappoint people brings up this pain and this separation between myself and others. We often think all day that if we bring up something difficult or something unpleasant to someone else that they will react negatively.

“Maybe they’ll hate me” “He’ll end it with me if I tell him” “He’ll fire me if I express my frustration”

And we can obsess over this and turn into these little balls of stress over something that we have entirely made up. An inner play of self-inflicted torment. But when you really think about it, it is so nice to hear these things. It is so liberating to know the truth; so liberating to know what someone else thinks in earnest without the filter that comes with worrying about other people’s reactions. The pain of our expectations not coming to fruition through inaction or lies on someone else’s part is much worse than the pain of being told the reality of the situation up front. So go forth and be a blunt ass binch.

If we betray our gut instinct to tell the truth and instead go down the route of people pleasing, which I am guilty of, then we also ensure separation through inauthenticity. By creating this fake persona for every single person we come into contact with, we ensure that we cannot truly ever get close to anyone. Even if they like that persona you have created to please them, which is rare, as that kind of fake energy inevitably pushes people away, then they like not you. They like this not you because you have not at all even allowed them the possibility of knowing the real you. My most egregious way of doing this is by not being vulnerable, by being so sheltered in myself, as I have said in one of my previous posts. Specifically, I take myself too seriously. I’m afraid of being vulnerable and doing goofy, fun, or stupid shit because I’m afraid of what people will think of me, I’m afraid my inner fun won’t appease everyone. I am too serious to dance with most friends, or to sing with most friends, or act like a fool with most friends; there are a select few that I can, all women, but the story behind that is for another post. I also can feel this aggressive seriousness whenever I talk and it is silent but for my voice, a deafening silence that makes me retract into myself and stop talking as soon as possible. We all take ourselves too seriously, and sure there’s a time and place for reverence and formality, as life itself should be taken seriously, but our meager selves should not be taken so seriously. So lighten up, have fun, live a little. 

uwu Live Laugh Love uwu

I am taking steps now to be more vulnerable (not only in terms of levity) with almost every person I meet, and it truly has been transformative. It is incredibly uncomfortable to let anyone, even those close to us, in and to see how we treat ourselves. To show them how cruel we can be to ourselves when we could not imagine anyone else being nearly as cruel to our friends. An odd conundrum. “Do as I say not as I do.” But with that inevitable uncomfortability of change comes this opening up to everything and this ability to receive so much more deeply. Which in turn creates a deeper sacred space between ourselves and others, it unseparates us, and that is truly all we are trying to do. I have been doing this vulnerability-increasing with my father, and have never had such a healthy relationship with him.

I mentioned faith above and how I have struggled with it romantically. However, that is not the only way that I have struggled with faith. My entire life I have struggled with faith in anything. Always cynical about everything. Flitting about from one thing to another, never truly staying in one place long enough to maintain and promote faithfulness. Specifically, my religious/spiritual faith has always been weak, and that’s still something I struggle with today. My prayer group, who I cherish deeply as they have so much wisdom and compassion to give and receive, take things in the Course much too seriously for me. They take these metaphysical concepts of the big bang, of oneness, and cosmic certitude, and apply it to the physical world. And it makes me wonder about where I should put limits on faith, or if I can even put limits on faith without it losing all meaning. Perhaps I am just intellectualizing some of the lessons and not truly taking them in spiritually, which is where this limiting comes from. At the same time though, we live in the real world. The real world is filled with fear due to our unseparation that populates the energy surrounding us. And that energy causes real physical danger to be present. I cannot be compassionate and caring and loving if I am dead or in such an emotional rut because of my situation that I am too loving to leave. To be a loving person is to be bold and to be a blessing, and sometimes that boldness requires the opposite of people pleasing, instead it requires to be brutally honest and authentic. And to do that I must take care of myself.

But where’s the limit? Where do I draw the line of taking care of myself and taking care of others (especially in a partially unhealthy situation)? When do I leave the train station if the train is not for me? So I am obviously thinking of a specific scenario, and that scenario is teaching. I come back to this over and over, that I need to quit, that I got into it for the wrong reasons, that it is unsustainable, and not a career for me at all, even though I am good at it according to my observers and students. And there are perks, summer vacation and a solid schedule, that do attract me, but it still feels like I’m forcing it? 

Anyway, the main thing I am gleaning from this is that can we give if we are not in a good place? Can we give what we do not have? And if you really think about it, yes we can, and thinking we can’t is a way of scapegoating; of making an excuse for being fearful and unloving. There is no place and no situation where giving out of an abundance of desire for love does not help you feel more loved and connected, which in turn improves your position you were in. What is the pain in being loving, honestly and deeply loving? Where is the danger? It does not exist.

So for me, I am trying to incorporate that into my teaching job and see if it helps open me up to the possibility that things will be okay. However, I also know that I am forcing teaching and that goes against what I should be doing… so I am both actively looking for a way out while also accepting my current job through being more loving.

Long story short, maybe there should be no limits on faith, maybe spirituality can pervade all areas of my life. Maybe it can be like a vine growing through all areas of existence, cohesing them into a more whole union. And that’s honestly truly what we should all want, a more whole and full life. We can all take action towards this by not being people pleasers, but rather being authentic people; by putting faith in yourself that you are as you are meant to be and you will find the people in your life that will love your authentic self. 

[ganymedesclock]

(in response to a bit in your "haggar as altean royalty" post from today) You think that the mystery galra pilot from s2e9 might have something to do with (or could even be) Lotor too? (I'd actually started thinking about the possibility of that only a couple days ago, with your mentioning of them collecting scaultrite adding to my intrigue at the idea)

This seems like a tangent at first but I promise it’ll get to your point:

So one thing that VLD does very, very well in setting design is that armor, clothing, weapons, technology, and vehicles all have very clear specific aesthetics that denote exactly what organization things are built to. This can be pretty dang nuanced: for example, while the Blade of Marmora and Zarkon’s Empire have completely different aesthetics, both of them also read very clearly as galra styles. Both have more in common with each other than they do, say, Balmeran or Olkari styles.

There are also distinctive subsets within the empire. For example we can look at Thace and Haxus and know they’re the same rank even though Thace is the only one we hear addressed as lieutenant- Haxus was a lieutenant as well. How do we know? Their armors are a complete match:

Haxus, above, and Thace, below

They have the same emblem on the chest, the same black armor with pink highlights and paler shoulder ridges. Everything down to the style of ‘cuff’ on their bracers is a perfect match. The only obvious detail of difference is Haxus’s gloves enclose the hand, which makes perfect sense because we only see Thace on ships or at galra high command, and we know that gloves on space suits are usually retractable and seal or dissolve as needed. Haxus out and about on Arus or on the unsecured castle, would leave his gloves on.

Taking this back to your point about the Weblum Galra, Keith’s enigmatic erstwhile ally:

Here is WG, above, and Lotor, below.

Viewed from the front, comparable shots of the upper body:

Again: WG above, Lotor below:

As people have pointed out, their armors are not a direct match for one another. However- they share a particular unusual color scheme that we have seen nowhere else in the empire: the primary color of the armor is black, like the lieutenant uniform, but it’s backed by slate blue, and while any glowing spots are the empire’s standard purple-pink incandescence, flashing and details alternate between vivid orange and royal blue.

The silhouette of the helmet is nearly identical between them- and radically different from the foot soldier’s helmets. We have not seen helmets for lieutenants or commanders, but the scientists working on Zarkon’s armor have similar lines, as does Zarkon’s headpiece. The scientists’, Zarkon’s, and the soldier’s headgear all make an M-shaped line on the forehead, compare the shot of WG threatening Keith above to the soldier helmet, as thoughtfully modeled by Allura.

The only similar helmet we see to the open faceplate design donned by Lotor and WG is an Altean helmet, and not the paladins’ or Coran’s, but specifically Allura’s helmet:

Much of the uniqueness that causes WG and Lotor’s suits to stand out is that they are incredibly unusual: heavily evoking the lines and shapes of both the standard empire, and Altea. The royal blue color so prominently appearing would even be easily achieved as a mix between Altea’s cyan and the violet associated with the galra. 

Ergo? This is hybrid armor, very likely evoking specifically Lotor and his divided, Galra-Altean heritage. A curious decision on the writers’ part, considering Lotor is very likely the son of Haggar and Zarkon- both people who are all too eager to wipe Altea and any trace of it from the universe. It would seem decidedly odd for their son to be poncing around in even adapted, partial Altean aesthetics.

But then again, just from the trailer and writer’s comments, Lotor is very unlike his father- but probably for his own survival, has gotten very good at packaging himself as exactly what his parents, and the empire, want and expect out of him. The Altean aesthetics blended in carefully with the empire’s not only creates a unique look for Lotor that can denote things affiliated with him, important for a major player taking the scene, but could very well be an act of Lotor sneaking in potentially “rebellious” sentiments under a veil of imperialistic zealotry. 

Comparing Lotor and WG specifically to one another:

Lotor’s armor, from what we see, has very little orange. Just on his collar and elbows. The royal blue, and its slate-blue backing, utterly dominate. In silhouette, the armor is sleek and streamlined, featuring a long cloth piece that may be a kilt, pants, or something added on to give it the silhouette of an overcoat.

Most things in imperial aesthetic tend to be spiky, warm colors and dark ones. Lotor’s use of primary cool colors is jarring in contrast, especially to his father’s primarily wine red ensemble. But Lotor, as “this little fellow” is already a pretty jarring departure from his father- and has not a trace of Haggar’s gold-and-tyrian-purple hues, either.

On WG, there is more black and neutral gray, and less blues- and a lot more orange. Like Lotor’s, it’s not very bulky, but unlike Lotor’s it features a lot of flared outward points- the pauldrons, the thigh armor. It shares many of Lotor’s peculiarities and Altean aesthetics, but there’s one major glaring detail here that Lotor probably doesn’t have, given the position of fabric on his armor:

WG features a pair of calf-mounted jet boosters. Boosters in general are rather rare from what we see- limited pretty much to the paladins and Zarkon- and Zarkon specifically is the only one whose boosters are on his legs rather than back. WG, with more warm colors, spikier armor, and that very obvious homage directly to Zarkon’s own armor, seems closer to the standard empire than Lotor.

This is emphasized by physiology- WG has larger, clawed hands, typical of a galra, while Lotor’s hands are slim and very humanlike- or, rather, very Altean.

To me, the takeaway is: Lotor and WG are very obviously, powerfully connected to one another, and WG in particular is directly connected to Zarkon. However, they’re very different people- the color and shape language used for them is very different. 

Furthermore, weapons are used a lot to tell us about character identity: the revelation of Zarkon’s status as the former Black Paladin went directly hand-in-hand with the revelation of his weapon- the black bayard. Said bayard even specifically changes its shape when it passes into Shiro’s hands.

WG wields a gun. Lotor uses a sword. Neither have any obvious ability to take the other’s form, and neither are seen carrying the other- even when having a sword would blatantly benefit WG (they would not have needed to wait for Keith and his bayard to come cut them out of the cockpit they were trapped in)

They’re different people yet two of a kind, and I doubt one is subordinate to the other- it’s ambiguous if they’re even working together at this point, considering Lotor seems canny enough that if he had a lot riding on getting scaultrite, he would not let WG go do that alone.

This is what brought me to a theory I came up with a long time ago: that Lotor and WG are siblings, and that the reason why Lotor and only Lotor was sent for is that WG at present is somehow disgraced, exiled, or even simply ignored. Considering how ambiguous it is that Zarkon would ever really even need a royal heir or want to acknowledge a successor as more than a temporary stand-in if he’s injured, he would probably never bother with two of them. If he potentially got, say, a pair of twins when he was expecting a single child, it seems likely he’d just focus on whichever one more aligned with what he wanted.

Again, in both armor and physiology, WG seems more “conventionally” galra. With the helmet off, they would likely resemble Zarkon at least a little more than Lotor does, considering Lotor looks, if anything, even more obviously Altean than his mother does. This is the main reason, combined with the out-of-the-way, dire straights they seem to have gotten themselves into utterly without backup, that WG reads as disgraced or cast out to me- not allowed to completely shed their connection to the empire and Zarkon’s insignia on their armor, but certainly not given any resources or help, or anyone watching to make sure they aren’t in danger.

Because seemingly, WG would be the favored candidate over Lotor, and yet, Lotor’s the one hailed as the prince. 

This might seem a little Zuko and Azula, here- but I’d challenge that. 

Because again: there seems to be some small act of rebellion here. Lotor isn’t just by pure happenstance taking more after his Altean lineage- when Haggar is not obviously acknowledged as Zarkon’s consort and hides most of her hair by tucking it in her robes or beneath her hood, Lotor has grown his hair out… and the first thing he shows to the empire is that hair, letting it tumble dramatically out of his helmet.

After that, seemingly, Lotor makes a habit to leave the helmet off.

Historically, Lotor has also been very interested in Allura, and very unhappy at the idea of people trying to kill Allura- which is bound to create some conflict if he retains this in VLD since Haggar is quite inclined to seeing Allura dead without damage or delay.

If Allura is tied very directly to the side of Haggar’s history she’s doing everything to ignore or destroy evidence of, she is not going to like Lotor doing anything like sniffing around Allura, or waffling on orders to kill her.

WG, for all of seeming more conventionally galra in some ways, is still wearing those Altean characteristics- the color, the shape of the cuirass- loud and proud. WG, the “more galra” of the two of them- is the one gathering scaultrite, a mineral used in Altean technology, seemingly exclusively- a mineral that, like luxite for the galra, responds only to Altean energy.

And WG being where they are suggests that they did something to make their parents very unhappy with them. Potentially, if WG isn’t just silent by psychology or birth defect, it’s very possible Zarkon or Haggar were displeased enough to silence them by force.

Like Zuko and Azula, we have a favored sibling and an outcast sibling- possibly even an outcast sibling who was scarred traumatically by their parents. But unlike Zuko and Azula- it doesn’t seem like Lotor and WG were turned against each other.

Because again- they read very much as two of a kind. While, outside of general empire aesthetic, there is almost nothing to tie the to their parents. WG has Zarkon’s booster configuration and the long ‘skirt’ on Lotor’s uniform may evoke Haggar’s robes, but neither of them wear even a scrap of either Zarkon’s wine red-on-black or Haggar’s tyrian-and-gold. The only obvious thing Lotor’s wearing from Haggar is again, his Altean white hair, which sounds to me like a bit more of a subtle “screw you, mom” than anything admiring, considering Haggar doesn’t like having her hood off and letting people see any more of her hair than just the bits framing her face.

Another twist to the “Zuko and Azula” implications- it seems like WG, the ostensible Zuko, would be the one in the position to be Azula instead- the favored child who’s more conventionally galra, who seems to lean more towards Zarkon, who’s athletic and fighty and a hell of a good shot.

Lotor, conversely, is Altean, and historically, Zarkon hates him and derides him, calling him a failure or accusing him of “whining”. Historically Lotor has been a very sentimental person, exactly a quality Zarkon blasts as weakness.

But wait a minute here.

So we have a highly talented, stoic hotshot who’s somewhat aggressively self-sufficient, more warm-toned, but who despite promise, was kicked out of the organization they represent, quite possibly after getting into a big nasty argument with an authority figure. We first find them in the middle of nowhere.

And the less-favored candidate who is a hard worker and still good, but not as good, but picked up to fill the space- coincidentally a kind of sensitive person who’s very interpersonally aware and inclined to picking up new allies from people around them. Who stays behind, but is probably not doing so good, still sort of living in the shadow of their predecessor. They are also blue-toned to their counterpart’s warmer tones.

They’re probably going to end up bickering a little and also working together, and in a place to move into a position of power given the sudden absence of the black-themed leader figure of their group. One of them uses a sword and one of them uses a gun.

Sound familiar...?