#and we all wrote her letters and compiled it into a book for her to read

[lanshappycorner]

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[chairofchaos]

Letters of Love: Part I

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: “The love story of Eris and Azriel Vanserra is a tale for the ages. Their story is best told through their letters to one another and their family in the first year of their mated union. In this new newest edition, their letters are joined by excerpts of Eris Vanserra’s journal entries, as newly released by the Vanserra family.” - from the summary, “Letters of Love”

A work in which Eris and Azriel’s slightly tumultuous love story is explored through interviews, letters, and journal entries.

Rating: Explicit (not in this chapter so much, but in later parts definitely)

Word Count: 8.5k (roughly)

A/N: Got an idea, had a breakdown, bon appetit! We’ll call this my contribution to @azrisweek for Contact Day. If formatting is messy, it’s because I wrote and edited this entire thing on mobile in the span of 24 hours.

A HUGE thank you must be extended to @ninthcircleofprythian, to whom I dedicate this part of Letters of Love. This is entirely owed to her ideas. Thank you especially for accepting my all-caps freak outs that have spawned 8,500-odd words in the last 24 hours. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for your ideas, and your support of my insanity. Enjoy, have a gold star, and enjoy the extra thousand words of Eris’ journal at the end!

Letter from the Editor

Eris and Azriel Vanserra, the famed High Lords of Autumn, were not always the lockstep, solid foundations we now think them to be. This new edition of Letters of Love is the story of two great tacticians, strategists, and politicians from two previously antagonistic courts, and their journey from enmity to long-lasting marriage. The new inclusion of journal entries recently released by the Vanserra family adds a new dimension of personal thoughts by the Heir of Autumn.

The compilation of letters and anecdotes contained herein were requested by Eris Vanserra toward the end of his life. He wished to have something to pass on to his children as a reminder of the great love that he and Azriel had shared, and all that had transpired in the first year of their life together. It is no doubt that the volume was also of some comfort to him at the end of his life. The loss of his mate some hundred years earlier had significantly weakened the Vanserra heir. Their three children acknowledged after Eris’ passing that the loss of Azriel had been one from which their father never truly recovered.

Other volumes will contain details of the years following their mating ceremony and the immediate challenges they faced upon being mated, but it is this one that their eldest son Carmine assembled at his father’s request. The letters, generously provided by the courts of Autumn, Night, and Day, continue to paint a vivid picture of the High Lords in the tumultuous years following the war with Hybern, the birth of the Cauldron-born Archeron High Ladies and their own mates, and the defeat of Koschei. It was in that final conflict with Koschei that Eris Vanserra became High Lord of Autumn. Whether it was a blow dealt by the heir or by the death god himself, we will leave to you to decide, as its relevance to the subject matter contained within is only passing.

It is our hope that this new edition of Letters of Love is as enthralling as the ones which have come before. May your fires be warm, and your shadows a comfort.

***

Introduction from the First Edition

By Carmine Vanserra

Dear Reader,

Within the pages you hold are the proof of my fathers’ love for each other. Their life together was a happy one, though it was frequently troubled. It is no secret that for a great many centuries they were no more friendly than two bucks fighting over some perceived slight in the forest. The love that grew between them with maturity and age gave significant weight to that excellent phrase of Ms. Sellyn Drake: “The line between hated and love is a fine one, indeed.”

I would be remiss not to acknowledge the origins of this book. It was my father, Eris Vanserra, who requested its compilation just three years before his death. Greatly weakened by the loss of his mate some years before, he found himself more prone to reminiscing about the events of life. The love he had for my father Azriel was, to him, the greatest of all the happenings in a centuries-long life. It was their story which was told to my siblings and I at bedtime; their tales of misadventures and romance which in turn encouraged our own hearts to love.

Despite these joys, the truth must out. Their life was not always a happy one. This small volume tells but one fragment of their story. Perhaps other writers and historians will have opportunities to explore the full history of their life. It will not be me. This assignment, which my father set me to centuries ago, inspired a great many works and my own life’s work of the exploration of the true romances of history. It was this initial work which inspired the birth of my own publishing house, Leaf Bridge, and to write my many books. I would find it the greatest personal failing if, as I now depart from the ink scented office of my printing house, I did not publish the work which inspired this building and the work we do in it.

With the full consent and understanding of my siblings and other relevant parties, I am thankful to offer you at last the full story of my fathers’ love.

I must extend my gratitude to Lord Nyx Moonbeam, whose initial hesitation easily gave way to understanding and even joy upon hearing what we sought to do with this published edition. Nyx, my most beloved friend and confidant: as these letters and this story have graced our personal libraries and lives for centuries, I hope it will so grace the homes and hearths of your court. May it bring them the same joy and richness of life that it brought us.

I must thank also my cousin, Lady Flora, whose permission of access to the libraries and records of Day Court has been indispensable. I am especially sorry that your mother did not live to see the volume in its published format, as she was instrumental in the early research and saving of the letters contained within. It is very likely she saw me write this letter some time ago. Only she could know, so thank you, Aunt Elain.

One last thank you to the living must be extended to my eldest sister. Lady Arbora, without your arduous notes, Symphonia recordings, and truly obsessive nature for details of the smallest order, we would have no record of many of Papa’s thoughts and feelings of these early years. The transcripts of your thorough interrogations of both Father and Papa made it possible for this volume to tell a complete story using their words. Annoying as I may have found your obsession when we were young, I now realize that we all owe you the deepest debt of gratitude, and none more than I.

To the deceased: Aunt Feyre, Uncle Rhysand, Uncle Lucien, Aunt Elain, Aunt Nesta, Uncle Cassian, my brother, Ash, and to all of those whose names have been forgotten to time and ignorance, we the living offer you our heartfelt gratitude for all you made possible for Eris and Azriel.

Eris and Azriel, my fathers. To you, we offer the greatest debt of thanks. May this collection bring you honor and peace.

***

LETTERS OF LOVE

Day One

Letters:

Dear Lord Eris,

You are cordially invited to visit Rhysand and I at our home in Velaris this week-end. There will be a small tour of the city, if you wish it. Dinner will be provided. Please arrive at 4.

Sincerely yours,

Lady Feyre

***

Dear Lady Feyre,

I look forward to attending. What further details can you provide? And please, stop calling me Lord.

Sincerely,

Eris Vanserra

***

Transcript from Interview:

Arbora: What did Aunt Feyre say when you asked her that?

Eris (amused): Arbora, I have told this story before.

Arbora: It’s not funny, Father.

Azriel: It’s a little funny, sweetheart. Go on, Ere.

Eris: Well, she told me that dinner would be at 6 in the River House. It would be my first visit where I was allowed to see where your aunt, uncle, and cousin actually lived.

Arbora: That would be Uncle Rhysand, Aunt Feyre, and Nyx.

Eris: Yes.

Arbora: Anything else?

Eris: Yes. She let me know that Cassian and Nesta would be out of town, though Azriel would likely be in attendance along with their immediate family. She also provided some details about where exactly to winnow, though I can’t say I really remember those.

Azriel: You were to winnow to the outskirts of Velaris near the base of the House of Wind stairs. Rhys was supposed to bring you the rest of the way. I changed it to see how you would react.

Eris: I’m sure you’re right.

Together, Azriel (normally) & Arbora (mockingly): I usually am.

[all laugh]

Azriel [with affection]: Smartass.

Arbora: Sorry, Papa.

Eris: We love you. Though that’s all the time we have for tonight, I’m afraid.

[End Interview]

Day Two

Letters:

Dear Azriel,

I’m sorry for writing, though I will admit I was hesitant to wake you. My powers are drained, as are Rhys’. We’re fine here, but we’re going to need to do some more work in Windhaven before returning and I doubt we will be home in time for dinner. It’s unfortunate, since Eris is expected, but Rhys and I don’t want to share with him exactly what’s going on.

Will you take over the dinner? Nuala and Cerridwen have the meal fully in hand. He’s to winnow to the base of the House of Wind, though you could write to him with other arrangements. I also offered him a tour of the city, which I planned to do myself. Perhaps the Rainbow would be a safe bet?

I don’t want to put you under any stress. Delegate your other things, please. We’d like this relationship to continue between Night and Autumn, so consider this your top priority until the end of the night.

Thank you, Az.

Love,

Feyre

***

Dear Feyre,

Not to sound too much like your son, but, do I absolutely have to? Will it be just the two of us for dinner? You do remember the first time you saw Eris and I go at each other’s throats, yes?

Love (though I’m not happy about this),

Az

***

Dear Azriel,

You do sound remarkably like Nyx when you ask things like that. Though it could be said he sounds a bit like his father, though don’t tell Rhys I said that.

Yes, it will just be the two of you. Nesta and Cassian are still on the continent. Amren’s visit with Varian began today, and since they haven’t seen each other in a month, I would suggest avoiding the apartment at all costs. I’m not sure why you would care for her backup with Eris, but just in case you were desperate? Don’t go to her. Everyone else is here, as you know, and very needed. If it wasn’t for Eris coming, I’d have you here, too. As I said, Nuala and Cerridwen are taking care of the meal, so you’ll just need to handle the tour and making sure you’re back in time for dinner.

I remember that meeting well, thank you. Do me a favor and let’s try not to have a repeat. I promise you a huge favor when we get back. Name the price. I’ll even see if I can get Rhys to leave Nyx in your care for a day without interruption. Exercises in trust, and all. Speaking of, let’s attempt to not repeat history. Please keep in mind the importance of this visit for the relations between our court and Autumn.

With love, even when you aren’t happy with me,

Feyre

P.S. - Brother, I owe you. Though I can’t say I’ll hand over my son for a whole day, no matter how much I love and trust you. I love him more. I’d miss him. Be civil. Send us a report once it’s over. And whatever you do, don’t hit him first. - Rhys

***

Dear High Lord and High Lady,

It is with great pleasure- fuck it I’m not writing this formally. You both know I don’t like writing these. If you hate it, give the writing job to someone else. I’ll train them if it means I don’t have to do this anymore.

I changed the location of pickup to see how he would react. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit. Probably because he knew I was just trying to annoy him a bit. I picked him up at the border of Night instead, and teleported him to the River House. I figured we could start a tour from there.

From the River, we walked through all four palaces. I gave explanations of why they were called what they were, and their wares. He called the bridges “unique” and “beautiful,” and couldn’t seem to stop staring at the cliffs. He seemed almost enamored with them.

He had very little to say about Velaris otherwise, though he asked any shopkeeper we came across questions about their wares or other things to engage them in conversation. He almost seemed like he was genuinely curious. He bought one or two little things in the Rainbow.

Dinner was uncomfortable. With just the two of us, the River House dining room felt opulent, but we persisted. We kept conversation to a minimum. Nuala and Cerridwen excelled, as usual, and he spoke to them briefly following the meal, in which he sang their praises.

When dinner had finished, I offered him a look at the portraits in the main hall or the gardens outside. He chose portraits, so I let him wander the entryway. He stared at them. For some reason, mine seemed to be of particular interest. Feyre, it occurred to me that he may actually make a good subject for a portrait if relations are ever good enough and you could convince him to sit for you. My shadows had nothing to say in his favor or to his detriment, though they did seem to like swirling around his chair during dinner.

I took him outside the city again, and he winnowed home. Nothing notable. He seemed peaceful. He didn’t mention your absence- thank you for not leaving that explanation to me.

I’ll see you soon.

Azriel

***

Dear Azriel,

Thank you for the visit today. It was delightful to see the city in the evening, and to be able to walk its streets for the first time. Please extend my thanks to Rhysand and Feyre. Their home is lovely, fitting for a city like Velaris. It truly is, as my brother said, a Court of Dreams. I am grateful to have been able to experience all of its beauty in the evening light.

Thank you also for your courtesy in sharing the history of the the city and the previously secret history of the Night Court. It was a privilege to hear, especially since you clearly have extensive knowledge on the matter.

Sincerely,

Eris Vanserra

***

Lucien,

I have a matter of urgency to discuss with you. Please come tomorrow morning.

Eris

***

Eris,

My mate is days away from giving birth. Forgive me this frankness, but I’m not leaving her for a minute and I don’t want you here until this is all over. Write to me instead. Whatever it is can’t be that bad or you would have just showed up.

Lucien

***

Lucien,

I had a visit to Velaris yesterday. It went perfectly, from a diplomatic standpoint, though the only one present was Azriel. Everyone else had been called away to an emergency in Windhaven. I received no explanation for the extent, or the nature of the issue, but I believe it to be extensive. I was invited to explore the city. Azriel was beside me, or close behind, through the whole city. To his credit, he spoke well of the city and its history.

At one point, I was in awe of the cliffs and mountains- you’ve been there, so you know how impressive they are. The way the city is built into the hills is truly incredible. I was looking up while walking, and I tripped on a cobblestone. (I wouldn’t tell you that unless it was incredibly important, and trust that given the circumstances, you will never mention it again.) Azriel caught me by the wrist and the upper arm and hoisted me straight again.

I cannot believe what I am about to say, but I believe Azriel is my mate. The second his hand was on mine, I felt a tug in my sternum pulling me towards him. He gave no indication he felt it.

Luc, my hand burned when I pulled away from him. It was like his hand had lit me on fire- and not the kind that can be controlled, not even by us. I had to flex it to get the feeling to go away even a little. It grew in awkwardness from there. I had the good fortune to be able to hold my tongue, unlike you, so if I hid it well, he won’t know.

I do not know what to do. Please, I have never asked you for anything more valuable to me than this.

Eris

***

Eris,

Elain says to come over. We have tea. Apparently babies like drama too. Helion is aware you’re coming, but not why. Pack a bag so you can stay the night. And Elain says to be nice to me or she’ll tell you something horrible that may or may not be true.

Lucien

***

Luc,

I’ll be there in ten minutes. Please ask your mate to never do that again. The last horror was enough to keep me awake for two days.

Eris

Transcript from Interview:

Azriel: The shadows brought me the letter. At the time, the standard was for one or two of them to place letters on the counter for me to deal with them. But this one, not marked as urgent or hasty, arrived in the morning the day after Fath - I mean, Eris, had visited Night.

The shadows had brought me his letter from the night before as well. I chalked it up to it being a professional correspondence and after reading it, sent it to Rhys and Feyre to pass on his gratitude at their hospitality and the loveliness of their home. The shadows did seem uncharacteristically eager.

[End Interview]

Day Three

Letters, Part I:

Dear Azriel,

You are invited to join me in Autumn this afternoon at 3 for a tour of my orchard, with dinner to follow. The orchard is the source of the fruits for the cider you enjoyed on your last visit. I thought you may enjoy seeing it, and wanted to return the hospitality you offered me in Velaris.

Please let me know if you are able to come.

Sincerely,

Eris Vanserra

***

Dear Eris,

Thank you for the invitation. I will come.

Sincerely,

Azriel

***

Rhys,

I’ve been invited to Autumn for a tour of Eris’ orchard. I accepted because I knew you would tell me to. I’ll be gone this evening.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Good. Keep us updated. And please wear something nicer than leathers.

Rhys

***

Rhys,

I have just returned from Autumn. You’ll be pleased to know I wore sensible boots with a nicer pair of pants and a crisp white shirt. Not that it really matters.

I have no words for what happened. Please understand this is only being sent to you because I may have royally fucked up and wanted you to know in case it affects court relations.

I went to join Eris for the tour of the orchard. It was exceptional. Beautiful. Well organized. We were walking side by side down the rows. Eris was explaining the trees, the cultivation of their apples, and the importance of keeping the varieties separated. We moved into a neighboring field with smaller trees, and the rows were closer together. It got so narrow I moved to let Eris walk in front and his hand brushed mine. Well, really his signet ring brushed my hand, and I jolted and almost fell into one of the trees.

Rhys. I don’t even know what to say but… it felt good. It felt like warmth wrapped around my heart and PULLED. I don’t know how else to explain it. I didn’t know what to do. I balked and immediately shot into the air then let my shadows carry me back here. I don’t think I know what to do. Fuck, I said I wanted a mating bond. This feels like a cruel joke.

But what if there’s a reason? What if it’s good? What if I just ran and fucked things up so badly that he never wants to speak to me again? I don’t even know if he noticed what made me run- he didn’t look surprised. He just looked stoic, even as he watched me fly away.

What the fuck do I do? Why HIM? I don’t know where to go from here. I’m sorry if this creates problems for you.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Unfortunately, you have to go fix this. I don’t know what he felt, whether he felt it or not. I care, but as High Lord, you know I can’t put this over the court relations. You abruptly leaving a diplomatic exchange is something I can’t explain away or excuse. Go fix it. Tomorrow at the latest. We’ve spent years working with Eris in order to improve our relations. I’m sorry, Azriel, but I cannot allow this, no matter how personal, to interfere with that tenuous bond.

Rhys

***

Azriel,

Rhys shared your letter with me. I helped him write his letter, but wanted to add a few things. Do what he said though. I agree we need this connection of courts. You will need to address this.

To the personal aspect: I won’t say congratulations, though I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. Nesta is always commenting on how the line between love and hate is razor thin or something of that nature. I think it’s a quote from one of her books. It’s proved to be true a few times, I think.

Azriel, you have to try. If the Cauldron thinks Eris is the best one for you, you owe it to yourself to try. You’ve frequently noted to Rhys and I how happy we all are. Offer yourself that same chance. If you don’t try, you will likely come to regret it. I hope you will go to him, not just to fix things for us, but to see for yourself if there is the chance of affection and love.

All my love,

Feyre

***

Feyre,

Tell Rhys I’ll go. After all the things I’ve said to Eris, how could he love me? How could he forgive me that? I cannot see how it would be possible. I will fix what I can. I also won’t pretend to have any hope here.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

You do remember how my courtship with Rhys started? I despised him. I hit him over the head with a shoe. He had done things with and to me under the mountain that he regretted deeply. We got over it. If we could, so can you two. I also notice that you are concerned only with what you have done, not what Eris has done to you. From my understanding, your relationship to this point has been equally antagonistic. I wonder if he may be having the same self-deprecating thoughts?

Feyre

***

Feyre,

Yes, I remember. But throwing a shoe at someone is a little different than telling someone you have proof of his efforts to kill his father and you won’t hesitate to use it if it means Beron removes Eris from the equation. Not to mention the knowledge that I threatened him with exposing his mother’s affair with Helion if he stepped out of line not long after that.There’s no coming back from something like that.

Azriel

***

Az,

All you can do is try. Go. Fix it. You can do this.

Feyre

***

Lucien,

He found out. We were walking to the dinner table- I hadn’t mentioned the bond yet, or that we’d eat dinner in the orchard. Our hands brushed and it must have snapped for him. He nearly took out one of the trees. I think if he hadn’t stabilized himself with his wings he would have.

He flew away. I’ve never seen such a look of panic on his face. One or two of his shadows lingered reluctantly- I wonder what they know, if their will is separate from their master’s or if there was some part of him that wanted to stay and that will kept them there a moment or two longer. He glanced over his shoulder as he left. I couldn’t even see his face.

Regardless, he is gone. I don’t expect him back. I can’t push him to return. I can’t imagine after these years of enmity that he would bother. I can’t even blame him for it. We’ve said despicable things to one another. I’ve threatened his family more times than I can count. I’ve dressed his brothers down publicly, decade after decade, sometimes to their faces, sometimes behind their backs. It’s a tenuous starting point for even court relations, let alone a mating bond.

I cannot imagine that this would work.

Eris

***

Eris,

Elain says you deserve to try. I am inclined to agree. You meant to talk to him, so invite him, clearly this time. Clear intentions. You do still have dinner on the table, don’t you? You never ate well when you were nervous.

Lucien

***

Lucien (and Elain, apparently),

I suppose it can’t hurt. He’ll probably show up at some point anyways. Might as well try to temper the reaction however I can.

Eris

***

Dear Azriel,

I am writing to inform you that I was aware of the revelation you have just experienced. The bond snapped for me yesterday when you kept me from falling in Velaris. I wasn’t sure how you would react, or if there was any possibility of affection. I also knew it would be easier for you to leave from here, as you just did, than it would be for me to walk out of Night without you.

If you would like to discuss this, I will be in the orchard. I had planned to share what I knew with you at dinner, and had dinner waiting on the table here in the orchard. It is just a few rows away from where we were. If you would like to join me to discuss this, I will be here until midnight. If you decide to join me some other day, please write first. I’d prefer to have this conversation in private, to allow us to speak freely without concern of courts or politic.

If I may be so bold, I hope you will come.

Yours,

Eris

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

He left. I hadn’t realized how hopeful I was until he was flying away. I couldn’t see his face except in that one last glance over his shoulder- not granting me even one last look at the beauty contained within. It was too much to hope for. I suppose 24 hours of hope is all I could have hoped for. I’m sitting at the table now, wishing he was across from me. Lucien was right. I haven’t touched a bite. I feel too sick to even try.

It was foolish of me to dream of him last night. I stood on the balcony before I even retired, thinking of the way he had looked at me before he realized. Did he notice the unguarded open stares I couldn’t help but look at him with?

I can’t say it hadn’t occurred to me before: the way he might look leaning in to kiss me, the way he would have held me. It is not a possibility I had even considered until last night.

Last night, walking in Velaris, it was all I could do to focus on the people around us, the city noises. He was beside me, calm and less menacing than usual. He was a good guide. He knew the answers to every question I had. But the bond snapped and I found that I wasn’t surprised at all. I hadn’t realized how much affection had grown on my part in these last years, how much I admired the way he is.

If walking around Velaris was hard, dinner was agony. I could look across the table and see him, see his shadows swirling around him. I could feel them watching me, feel them darting around my chair as if they were nervous to get too close. But Azriel seemed calm, unaffected. He hadn’t seemed to notice any change in me.

Lucien convinced me to invite him today. I agreed. I’m going to kill my brother for that. What an idiotic idea. Here I am, alone.

The shadows lingered as Azriel left. They curled in my hair and around my wrists and ankles, and brushed against my cheek. They had never been so brazen with me. They were cool, like little brushes of a breeze against my skin. I can’t bear it. I couldn’t bear it when they disappeared with him. It was a loss I didn’t expect. It hurt more than I have the words for, losing that lingering fragment of him.

I was going to tell him. I didn’t know what else to do. So I’m sitting here at the table where I had hoped to confess. If I had held it in I could imagine the rage he would fly into when he found out. It would not have helped for there to be secrets. Not about this. This table, this entire meal is pointless without him here. It’s no use pretending I’m not breaking at this loss of a chance. The bond is eerily still. I do not dare touch it in case it shatters to pieces.

I will wait. Just like I said. Likely for longer than I said. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to let this go. I just hope he will forgive me for loving-

Transcript from Interview:

Azriel: The note he sent me made it easier to go back. I felt better knowing he knew. Somehow that made it easier than if I had had to break the news to him myself. I didn’t hesitate long after getting it. It was probably half an hour before I got the courage to show up. It was nearing sundown and I didn’t want him to give up.

Arbora: How did you feel?

Azriel: Anxious. Mostly because it could go so sideways for so many reasons. I didn’t know what to expect.

Arbora: Walk me through the evening.

Azriel: I teleported to where I had left from. Since I was right back where I was before, I just had to follow Eris’ footprints through the trees to find where he was. He was sitting with his back to me, scribbling furiously in his journal. I didn’t know that at the time, of course. But I noticed he was writing like it would kill him if he didn’t.

It wasn’t easy to walk up to him. The second he heard me he slammed the journal shut and stood. I don’t think I had ever seen him this disheveled. His hair was unbound, and he looked shocked I had even come.

Arbora: Who spoke first?

Azriel: He did. I didn’t know what to say. He seemed to regain some control and he asked me to sit. I think of the two of us, he was more worried about the personal. I had come with the intention to repair court bonds. He didn’t seem to care about that as much as the personal.

Arbora: How did the conversation go?

Azriel: I think he started. He told me how he had realized. I interjected to talk about-

Arbora: [interjecting] Papa. Details, please.

Azriel: Right. Sorry, sweetheart. [sighs] He explained the way the bond had snapped when I had grabbed him to keep him from falling. He told me he knew it was a surprise, but that he didn’t mind. He started to let me know he didn’t expect anything from me but that he wanted to be clear he was open to exploring it and I just… exploded a little. He seemed too calm, too steady. It was as though he was suppressing everything just to control what he could. It unsettled me.

I couldn’t understand why he didn’t seem interested in talking about what this might mean for his court, and I told him so. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look he gave me. He hadn’t met my eyes since he started talking, and in hindsight, I think he was probably fidgeting with his jacket cuffs under the table. You know how he does that in meetings when he’s anxious.

But he looked at me, really looked at me. He paused, and just said, “You cannot expect me to put my court first in this conversation. Not when you’re sitting in front of me. Not when I haven’t breathed easily since yesterday.”

It… [lengthy pause] It broke me, a little bit. He had never been so open, so directive in such a vulnerable way. It shook me. I don’t think the night would have gone the way it did if we hadn’t had that moment.

Arbora (quietly): Keep going.

Azriel: He waited while I gathered some thoughts and pieced together a sentence or two, telling him I was sorry I had left the way I did. That I was surprised, and alarmed. I told him what Rhys had said, that I had to come back to mend things between the courts, to repair anything that had been broken. And when I saw how it seemed to hurt him, this implication that I was only there to fix things, I admitted that I had wanted Rhys to force me back.

It was true. I did. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but if Rhys hadn’t have forced me back I would have run and kept running. But I admitted it to Eris. Somehow it was easier to admit to him than to myself, and to tell him how it scared me because I recognized what a monumental thing this was. It must have been the right thing to say, because he looked more relieved than hurt after that.

He asked me frankly if I wanted the bond. I told him honestly that I thought I did, but also that I was nervous about what it may mean. I asked him if he wanted it, and he just pursed his lips and looked away. I waited him out. I thought it was the only way he would answer me. But he didn’t, verbally.

Instead, he shoved about a million emotions down the bond- relief, anger, pain, desperation, sadness. So much sadness. It wasn’t mournful, it was more… desperate. He’ll hate that I said it that way, but that’s what it felt like to me. It was agonizing, to sit there, feeling what he was feeling. I was taken aback by the strength of his emotions, and found my own deepening in kind.

“I want this. I want you,” he finally said. His voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear him.

“Are you certain?” I asked him. He said he did, and I think I nodded in response. Your father hardly told me anything after that. He asked me if I was willing to try, to give it a shot. Then he offered me dinner.

I didn’t think about it before accepting. I didn’t even consider that this meal could be acceptance of the bond. I’ve wondered since if he knew what he was doing. He insists he didn’t, but I am not entirely sure I believe him.

Arbora: Would that be something he would have done?

Azriel: It’s not out of the question. I’m sure you’ve noticed your father is a tricky male, Arbora. It’s one of the things I continue to be surprised by- and amused. Make no mistake, I love his trickery. It’s endearing. It always has been, if I am truthful. Something about the way he schemed to make his court a better place…

Anyway, his argument is usually that since he didn’t make the food and he didn’t intend it at the beginning that this would be food to offer as an offer to accept the mating bond that he didn’t even consider what might happen, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have at least hoped.

Arbora: How did you feel when you realized?

Azriel: I felt peaceful. I think that’s what made me realize most of all, that he seemed pleased but surprised, and nervous about what I would say. I just felt peace. It was as though I knew it was right, even in the face of all the challenges it might present.

There’s no denying I’d considered what he would be like before. You’re an adult, I’m going to say this even though it’s a bit… risqué. But I’d considered what it would be like to bed him. And there was always more to that than just fantasy.

Arbora (sarcastically): Thanks for that.

Azriel: No problem. I’ll spare you the details. The realization was like making a breakthrough in training- the way you’ve fought to gain a skill, and then all at once, it clicks and you realize you can do it. It was like that. I didn’t see my feelings until all at once, they were there, big and powerful.

Arbora: Following that realization, what did you do?

Azriel: Arbora, after you just thanked me for holding details you may wish to rephrase that question.

Arbora: Ah- Okay. Um.

Azriel: Don’t worry. I’m teasing. We went to Eris’ private residence. He winnowed us. We took a couple of minutes to just let the people we needed to talk to know that we would be unavailable for the next few days. And we talked. A lot. Admittedly, probably more than most newly mated couples. Though I assume most of them would have had head conversations before hand.

Arbora: What did you talk about?

Azriel: The past. We discussed the things we had said to one another. The insults we had traded and threats we made. We also did typical newly-mated things. Again, I won’t lie to you. You asked for unabridged honesty. So we rotated between bed and living room, dining room for brief meals before sitting on the couch and talking, then moving back to the bedroom. It was six days of torture, because we had so much to talk about but it wasn’t what we really wanted to be talking about or doing, but it was things we had to get out of the way first. We wanted to enjoy it.

Arbora: Can you expand on that?

Azriel: Well, the things we talked about were unpleasant. They were emotional. Highly charged. Occasionally, Eris would step out for an hour, though he swore it was the last thing he wanted to do. With Lucien unavailable to help, he wanted to keep things under control in the court and since he hadn’t given the full reason for his absence, he didn’t want to draw too much attention, so there were a few meetings he said he absolutely couldn’t miss. It was a bit brutal.

Arbora: What was the reasoning behind keeping it quiet?

Azriel: I was spymaster of Night Court. He was High Lord of Autumn, and in the grand scheme of things, relatively recently crowned. Night and Autumn historically did not have a good relationship, and our immediate families had been the poster child for that dysfunction. It could have been a disaster if we had publicly stepped out in those first few months.

Arbora: How did your families take it?

[End Interview]

Letters, Part II:

Feyre,

I’m going to ask you to share this with Rhys. I can’t do it myself. I don’t know how to explain the events of the last 4 hours.

I’m mated to Eris. It was quick, and sudden. I’m happy about it. I need a few days. I won’t disclose anything that could put Night in danger- I hope you both know I would never do that. I’m sure he’ll be equally careful with Autumn. And we’ll need to talk about all of this. I know it complicates things. I’m sorry about that. But I can’t say I’m sorry we’re mated. It wouldn’t be true.

Thank you, and Rhys, for pushing me to come. I’m very grateful that you did.

Love,

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Well. I suppose now I can say: Congratulations! I’m glad you’re happy. I’ll let Rhys write you himself once I tell him. He’s with Cassian now. I’m assuming you’ll want to tell Cassian yourself, so I won’t trouble you with that.

Enjoy your time. I’ll make sure no one bothers you. And say hello to Eris for me.

Love,

Feyre

***

Cassian,

I wanted you to hear it from me. I’d appreciate it if this could stay between us- Rhys and Feyre know, and you can tell Nesta once she promises not to tell the other Valkyries.

I’m mated. It was almost as much a surprise to me as I’m sure it will be to you. My mate is Eris. Yes, that Eris. Yes, I am aware that he is High Lord of Autumn, and that we have had several very public fights. Yes, I do remember what Helion said about “being his new fantasy” and I also remember you teasing me about it afterwards.

I am sure you have about as many questions as I do right now, so let’s just leave it at that for now. I’ll be gone for the next few days. When I come home, I’ll answer as many questions as you want.

Azriel

***

Lucien,

Thank you for your advice these last few days. I’m going to take a few days off. Write if Elain has the baby. I’ll be otherwise occupied, but I’ll come when I can. Azriel and I will be at the Acorn in case of emergencies, but if anyone asks, you have no idea where I am.

Details to follow.

Eris

***

Dear Eris,

You forgot to include me in the salutation again. Don’t forget, I see things you don’t. It’s your duty as my brother-in-law to keep me informed, especially while I’m on bed rest. It doesn’t matter how much I see, I still want to hear every detail from you when you two are done with your little getaway. How you ended up going from pining agony (don’t bother pretending otherwise) to very near mated bliss in three days will be a tale for the ages. And a vespertine confession of feelings? Very romantic.

Lucien says congratulations. I’m sure he’ll write later. Feel free to ignore him. It can be his turn to be ignored, for once. He’s running himself to the ground trying to keep me comfortable when all I really want is to have him next to me until I have this baby. Anyways, tell Azriel we say hello. You’ll have to come for dinner soon and introduce him to the baby. I’m sure he or she will be here by the time you two can make it to us.

Affectionately,

Elain

***

Dear Elain,

I’m assuming you’ll have heard from Lucien, but if you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t worry. It’s nothing serious.

Love,

Feyre

***

Dear Feyre,

Oh I know very well what you’re talking about. Not to mention, I knew before they did. Pesky stubborn males. I told you to keep Cassian and Nesta away. Aren’t you glad you did?

Elain

***

My tricky sister,

You’re just as bad as them when it comes to being pesky and stubborn. Don’t forget the promises you made me in order to convince me to keep C & N away. Thought I can’t say I’m disappointed with the result. Azriel wrote me- he seems glad.

Love,

Feyre

***

My equally tricky sister,

I won’t forget my promise. You were always going to be a godmother, though, I don’t know why you didn’t consider that I would make you one in the first place. Of course, with Azriel now mated to Eris, the godfather is now up for debate…it might please Lucien for his brother to be involved. (Kidding. That was already decided, too. It’ll just be one more way to keep Eris close and involve him in the family. Be happy. And don’t tell Rhys yet.)

Azriel is more grateful than he has likely let on. Don’t bug him too much if you can help it, and once your powers are recovered, don’t let Rhys egg him on.

Love you more,

Elain

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

My god, he is a good lover.

***

Day three since we were mated. I love him. I love him so much. It’s been agonizing, and beautiful. I wish I had known how much I would feel from him down the bond. The bond is alive. It’s spinning, twining us closer at every moment. I told him I had a meeting, which is true. I just am taking ten extra minutes to write, to remember this feeling.

Azriel is everything I hoped my mate would be. Male, for one. But he’s gentle. He’s kind. He’s passionate about his family, and his court. He’s protective of them, too, and already that protectiveness has extended to me.

I went to get a new glass of water last night after he had fallen asleep, and when I turned from the sink, he was standing in the doorway looking concerned as he scanned the room.

“Are you alright?” He asked. His brows were furrowed, and I found myself admiring the wrinkle that made between them. When I nodded, he relaxed, but huffed grumpily. “I was worried when you were gone,” he admitted. He crossed to hold me, pulling me against his bare chest. Azriel apparently likes to be naked. A lot. I don’t mind. Not at all.

I told him I was fine and that I was sorry to have worried him. He just tangled his hands in my hair and pulled my head from his shoulder to kiss me. And what a kiss it was: firm, gentle. Teasing, then sweet. This male is addictive. He should be illegal. And he’s mine. My mate. My love.

I told him yesterday that I had been in love with him for longer than I could say. He admitted he hadn’t acknowledged it until the bond snapped, but part of the reason he ran was because it was forcing him to confront things he already knew. He apologized extensively for the threats, but seemed even more apologetic about the antagonism he had displayed. He blamed it on an abundance of feelings he didn’t know what to do with. I would say that it was a bad excuse, but since it’s the only one I can think of to excuse my own behavior, I said nothing. We always did rile each other more than anyone else.

Still, each conversation, each apology, each remembrance of ways we had wronged each other brought up things we weren’t proud of, and with it, floods of emotions we had to handle. I don’t think either of us were expecting to burst into tears when Azriel confessed how a few months ago, he had started having nightmares about the way he threatened me at that High Lords’ meeting and the look I had in my eyes- “as though you expected it. As if you thought you deserved it,” he said.

We’re falling apart a little bit. But we’re also putting each other back together. That’s not to say I don’t feel awkward half the time. I don’t know him, not really. Every kiss, every whisper of affection comes with the knowledge that I don’t know what his favorite color is (it’s yellow) or that I didn’t even know until this morning that his mother was alive and a part of his life. He wrote her a letter, telling her he would come visit in a couple of weeks. He didn’t mention whether he wanted me to come with him, or if Rhys would even allow me into Night. Frankly, I wouldn’t know if Azriel even knows if he wants me there.

Still, every kiss… When I winnowed us here two days ago, I winnowed us to the outskirts of the Acorn house lawn. He looked at it and understanding rang in his eyes: this was a place I kept quiet. His wings tucked tight into his back as he looked at me, waiting for me to lead. So I did, walking across the lawn as leaves crunched beneath our feet, disturbing the serene silence of our stowaway.

We reached the door, and I found him hovering over my shoulder as I opened the door.

He choked my name, and I spun, worried someone was there, that we would be disturbed before we had even had the chance to know each other. Azriel was looking at me, heat in his eyes. His jaw twitched, and he opened his mouth to say something before slamming it shut again. He looked so beautiful- the darkness of night falling around him, the last hints of light peeking through the leaves and the membranes of his wings.

How had I never noticed how beautiful his wings were? I stared at him openly, admiring him, and found myself thankful for the fact that this male stood with me, on the doorstep of my home. I almost said so, but he moved first.

His hands cradled my head so gently I wondered if he was scared of breaking me, and then he kissed me. His hands didn’t stray as he tilted my head to deepen our kiss, guiding me backwards with little pushes of his chest against my hands (I couldn’t help but let them wander- how he kept it together I have no idea) until we were inside. He pulled back, wild hazel eyes darting between mine as he reached back to close the door without even looking.

I don’t know if it’s the wings that make him so aware of his surroundings. Regardless, his eyes didn’t even leave mine. “May I?” He asked softly. It took me a solid ten seconds to realize his hand had come to settle over the buttons of my shirt. I nodded silently, and he lost no time in removing it, kissing me with renewed vigor.

I could hardly breathe, finding myself completely at a loss for words. Simply kissing him is addictive, but this complete contact, the sounds he made, the slow stroke of his hands down my sides was taking all I had to not collapse completely into him. The loss of his lips from mine was like losing air, like drowning in need. All the while, his desire, his love, poured down the bond. When he pulled my shirt all the way off I nearly died at the way his eyes roamed over me. He reached for my hands, stilling their wandering over his shoulders and back.

His groan and the way he pulled me back into him made me nearly feral, and I didn’t wait for him to protest before I made easy work of removing his shirt. I am sure I was less than gentle. He didn’t seem to care.

And he is a good kisser, but like I said yesterday… he’s a damn good lover.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Secret Exchange Diary of the Beauty and the Tyrant (His POV)

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors. Not 100% accurate.

CW: Slightly Suggestive

Emma: “Prince Silvio, would you like to exchange diaries?”

Silvio: “Ha?”

We were chillin’ out in bed after taking a bath together when Emma suddenly proposed an unexpected idea.

Emma: “We’ll show each other our diaries.”

Silvio: “Who would do something so embarrassing? I ain’t gonna do it.”

Emma: “You really think it’s embarrassing? Your voyage log is in a book, you know?”

Silvio: “Those two are different things. I won’t do it even if you ask me to.”

(Her head is really full of such fantasies.)

Emma: “Fine.”

Not expecting me to disagree, she easily backed down.

Emma: “Then, it’s okay if I send you my diary alone, right?”

Silvio: “What’s your goal here?”

Emma: “It’s a secret.”

(I don’t get it.)

I could tell she was up to something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

(Never mind. If she’s satisfied with it, fine.)

Silvio: “You’re going to send it anyway, aren’t you? Fine, I'll go along with it.”

Emma: “Thank you!”

She giggled and hugged me around the waist.

(I don’t really get how women think.)

Just like what she said, from that day on, she really did send me her diary.

Today I holed up in the castle's library to learn about the history and transition of Benitoite.

I've always known that the country is famous for its sea and trade. However, it was Prince Silvio's voyages that gave Benitoite the edge over other countries.

He had three major voyages in the past.

All of them were his greatest achievements that had already been compiled in history books.

My fiancée was really cool. I couldn't help but fall in love with him even more as I read about him in history books.

But what he achieved so far was not limited to voyages.

I'd like to know everything about him.

I might fall in love with him each time and suddenly want to hug him, but I hope he forgives me then.

(........)

(How can you write something so cringy?)

After reading her diary during my break, I closed it, and for some reason, my face wouldn't stop blushing.

It was so embarrassing that I almost jumped into the water but resisted and just ruffled my hair.

(But what's in it for her by giving it to me?)

(It's not like she has anything special to tell me. If anything, it just makes me feel good.)

(This is like a love letter now. Ah, damn it.)

It was sickening as a trader to benefit from the diary alone because the principle in business is fair trade.

Receiving Emma’s diary alone wasn’t fair.

(If she's only giving this to make me write a diary, then that's quite impressive.)

She might be a sassy woman, but I didn’t think she would use this kind of tactic.

(No point dwelling on it. I just have to ask her.)

Silvio: “Why do you want to exchange diaries?”

As soon as I finished my official duties, I stormed into her room and blurted out these words.

She was apparently studying hard, with a stack of history books on her desk.

She widened her eyes at my sudden visit, but stopped writing.

Emma: “I heard a rumor that you might be going on a voyage soon.”

(You already heard about it, huh?)

It was just a minor voyage一one that would leave the castle empty for a few days. But despite knowing this, Emma didn’t look too happy.

Emma: “This is the first time I’m going to be separated from you here in Benitoite.”

Emma: "I know you often go sailing, and there'll be times when we won't be able to see each other in the future, so I thought if I wrote a diary, I'd miss you a little less."

Silvio: "I see..."

I ended up clutching my head and grunting.

(If that's the case, you should've said so from the start. Why can't you do something as cute as this?)

Silvio: "It wouldn't make sense if you were the only one writing the diary."

Emma: "That's not true."

Emma: "Just having my diary will make you remember me when you go on your voyage. Pretty wicked, huh?"

(What's so wicked about it, you idiot?)

I ruffled her hair messily in annoyance at her overwhelming cuteness.

Emma: "Are you mad?"

Silvio: "Why would I be mad?"

Emma: "Because it was pretty selfish."

Silvio: "*sigh* It's not even close to being selfish."

(To be honest, I was planning to take your diary without telling you.)

Emma: "Then why did you mess up my hair?"

Silvio: "I just feel like it."

Emma: "Don't mess it up just because you feel like it!"

Silvio: "Shut up. I'm in the mood for this."

Now that I'd heard the reason, I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed.

As I continued to mess up Emma's hair, I remembered again that no Benitoite businessman should ever break the most basic and important principle.

(It ain't my style, though.)

(Tch, I guess I don't have a choice.)

A few nights later, I returned to my room after finishing my work and heard the sound of lively footsteps thumping from the corridor.

Emma: "Prince Silvio!"

Silvio: "!?”

The door swung open with a bang, and Emma jumped into my chest like a rabbit.

Without giving me a chance to react, she suddenly hugged me, causing my body to freeze in surprise.

Silvio: "How many times do I have to tell you not to startle me?"

Emma: "This is not the time for that!"

She moved away from me and held up a diary.

It was the diary I purposely left in her room when she wasn't there.

(I left it there because I couldn't stand to see it being read in front of me.)

Emma: "I didn't expect you to write it."

Emma: "The content一"

Silvio: "Don't say it! Don't say it out loud!"

Emma: "I can't?"

Silvio: "You can't, you idiot."

(I want to get the hell out of here right now.)

Anticipating this, she blocked my way.

Emma: "Then let me tell you what I think of一"

Silvio: "I don't want any feedback!"

Emma: "I'll only say one short phrase."

I tried to cut off her words, but she quickly covered my mouth.

(This bitch...)

Emma: "I love you!"

I gulped, and my heart thumped loudly in my chest as I saw her face up close, beaming with delight.

Silvio: "You're getting carried away."

Emma: "Of course, I'd get carried away if I read that. It was like a love letter一"

This time, I put my lips on hers and took the words I couldn't bear to hear.

Silvio: "Don't say anything else."

(I don't want to remember it.)

Every time she tried to speak, I kissed her lips and entwined my breath with hers.

I held her hips and felt a slight tremor in my palms as I deepened the exchange of our tongues.

(I won't let you say anything cheeky for a while.)

Just to be sure, I kissed her more deeply, and lewd wet noises echoed around the room.

I knew that if I did this, she'd be even more embarrassed than I was.

When I took everything away from her, Emma turned her teary eyes upward, her breath uneven.

Emma: "Are you embarrassed?"

Silvio: "So what if I am?"

Emma: "Nothing."

She only grinned and said nothing about what I did, which would normally make her blush and complain.

Silvio: "Are you sure you want to be smiling like that?"

(Is my diary really making you that happy?)

I pushed her against a nearby wall and put my knee between her legs.

When I forcefully shook her, I could see from her expression that her composure had vanished.

Emma: "W-What do you think you're doing!?"

Silvio: "If you humiliated me, it's only fair that you should be humiliated as well."

Emma: "Ngh…I didn't humiliate you."

Silvio: "You ain't convincing me."

I unbuttoned her blouse and forcefully pulled down her upper garments.

As I mercilessly squeezed her exposed breasts, she began to moan.

(I was trying to keep you quiet, but if you keep making that kind of face, I wouldn't be able to hold back either.)

I lifted her skirt and continued to stimulate her directly with my knee.

When I smirked at the faint wetness I felt through my clothes, she noticed and looked away, blushing.

Emma: "Did you really hate the diary so much?"

Silvio: "If I really didn't like it, I wouldn't have done it."

I let out a small laugh, and despite her becoming somewhat disheveled, she laughed as well.

Emma: "Then, please stay with me for a little longer."

Silvio: "Ha?"

Emma: "Is that a no?"

(.........)

There was no way I could resist her request, seeing how she carefully held the diary.

Silvio: "I'll go along with you as much as you want if this makes you that happy. Damn it."

Swearing, I hold Emma in my arms and lay her on the bed.

As I sank her into the bed, the diary slipped from her hands, its pages flipping open.

I'm off to the shipyard today for a meeting to discuss the new voyage.

I'd most likely be sailing in a few weeks at this rate.

I plan to return in a few days, but I kinda feel bad leaving you alone.

We'll use an unknown route this time, so the danger is uncertain. This is why I can't take you with me.

I'll be back as soon as I can because you seem to be more lonely than I thought.

As you know, I'm a businessman before I'm royalty.

I will probably go on less risky voyages as I take over the throne, but I don't intend to stop because Benitoite has made rapid progress by crossing rough seas and creating new trade routes.

My way of doing things is different from my old man's.

I may make you lonely and worried, but I will spoil you when I can be with you.

I'll keep up with the diary, and if there's anything else you want me to do, just let me know.

I'll even do a few outlandish things for you.

I can't help but fall in love with you, too, every single day.

Fin.

[weylersource]

WYLER VALENTINE'S DAY EVENT 2024!

Dreadful Valentine's Day to you all! I hope someone rips out your heart and uses it as a decoration in their bedroom during this beloved holiday! 💔 🔪

So I, Kara (@remusjohnslupin) one of the mods here at @weylersource, decided to create a chill, straightforward event to celebrate our favourite totally healthy and wholesome insane couple.

SO WHAT'S THIS ABOUT?

The concept is simple. Under this post, you will find prompts assigned to each specific day leading up to the Valentine's Day, on which day we post or share something related to that theme. It can be anything: gifsets, fanfiction, fanart, graphic.

WHAT IF YOU'RE NOT A CONTENT-MAKER?

That's okay! If you're not a content creator, you can share a passage from a book or a quote you read that reminded you of Wyler and that specific prompt. Or you can make a compilation, or a playlist! Basically, all content form is welcome during this event.

ABOUT PARTICIPATION

Lastly, it should go without saying but, of course you don't have to participate every single day and post something for every prompt to be a part of this event.

Just pick whichever ones that inspire you, and please make sure to tag your contributions as #wylervday2024. Don't hesitate to shoot a message if you have any questions.

Special shoutout to Gabbi (@tastethesetears) for indulging my insanity and the fact that I just sprang this on her, and Wince (@wincestation) for helping me through the whole process of picking the prompts!

I can't wait to see what you all come up with!

Prompts can be found here:

DAY 1 (8th of February): Jail/Prison (Because according to an early tradition, Saint Valentine restored sight to the blind daughter of his jailer.)

DAY 2 (9th of February): Letter (An 18th-century embellishment to the legend claims he wrote the jailer's daughter a letter signed "Your Valentine" as a farewell before his execution.)

DAY 3 (10th of February): Key. (In Italy, Saint Valentine's keys are given to lovers "as a romantic symbol and an invitation to unlock the giver's heart", as well as to children to ward off epilepsy, called Saint Valentine's Malady).

DAY 4 (11th of February): Flowers. (In 18th-century England, it grew into an occasion for couples to express their love for each other by presenting flowers.)

DAY 5 (12th of February): Spring and/or Blindness. (A proverb says "Valentine – the first spring saint", as in some places Saint Valentine marks the beginning of spring. / According to an early tradition, Saint Valentine restored sight to the blind daughter of his jailer.)

DAY 6 (13th of February): Heart. (According to legend, in order "to remind these men of their vows and God's love, Saint Valentine is said to have cut hearts from parchment", giving them to these soldiers and persecuted Christians, a possible origin of the widespread use of hearts on St. Valentine's Day.)

DAY 7 (14th of February): Red. (Yes, I mean Valentine's Day in its modern sense. Throw us all your stuffed animals, hearts, and red decorations that are wholesome. Or, knowing this fandom, you guys will use this prompt to break each others' hearts.)

[lulu2992]

Hey there!

After reading your great insight on what to keep in mind when, say, writing the Seed brothers in fanfiction, I was wondering if you wanted to cap things off on what to keep in mind when writing Faith?

You don’t have to do it immediately, just when you have the time.

Hi! Sure, let’s conclude this “series” with the last member of the family, Faith Seed :)

First, while she’s referred to as a/the Siren by Dutch, a couple of NPCs, and in promotional material, this isn’t her official title in the Project. And as you probably know, Faith Seed’s real name is actually Rachel. However, unlike what the Far Cry Wiki claims, I’m quite certain her full name was never Rachel Jessop. Unfortunately, the biography on her Wiki page is partly made up and based on that incorrect assumption, so I really don’t recommend trusting it. This advice goes for all Far Cry characters, and I don’t think the Far Cry 6 Season Pass is a good reference, either, since the DLCs were written with the help of the Wiki.

In Far Cry 5, in addition to the story cutscenes, she has three sermons (here, here, and here), four answering machine messages (here, here, here, and here), and can also be randomly encountered in the Henbane River region as a “specter” (term used in the files). When she appears, she either hums the song “Oh The Bliss” (here and here) or talks to the Deputy. I think what she says really is worth listening to and adds a lot to her character. @teamhawkeye has done a tremendous job recording and compiling all her appearances in 9 videos (1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9)! As for Marshal Burke’s “apology video”, in which Faith also appears, it’s here.

I wrote a summary of what other characters say about her here (masterpost here), and all the NPCs’ comments about the Seed family are available here and here.

Faith isn’t in Far Cry Arcade and doesn’t have the same “combat lines” as most other characters, but you can still listen to everything she says during the final fight against her here.

Her deleted lines are here, and she has even more here. Most of them probably aren’t relevant anymore, but they’re still interesting and make me wonder what they originally had in mind for the character!

If I’m not mistaken, there’s only one note in Far Cry 5 written by Faith: the “Note for Tracey” (Hope County Jail). The note “A Confession” (Throne of Mercy Church) was also written by “Faith”, but it seems to me the author is one of Rachel’s predecessors.

Indeed, in-game evidence indicates Rachel wasn’t the first woman who took on the role of Faith Seed. There were at least two others before her, Lana and Selena, but we barely know anything about them or why they were replaced. Two letters, written by people who knew and loved them, can be found in the game in the Horned Serpent Cave and the King’s Hot Springs Hotel, but that’s pretty much it.

There was another note written by Faith, apparently cut from the game but still available in oasisstrings. It was supposed to be in her bunker, Faith’s Gate:

To my guardians, Because we have each other, we are already strong. But when the Collapse comes, this gate will need to be the heart of our strength. Guard it with your lives, knowing that any sacrifice you make will be for the future of humanity's greatest ideals and dreams. Jacob and Joseph have chosen you to guard this gate. You should be very proud. I know you serve me with love, but never forget that this will be your home, too. If you falter from this purpose, remember the bliss is there for you. With love, Faith

It’s worth noting that, in the game’s files, Faith (or the Henbane River) is sometimes referred to as “Selena Seed”. To me, this suggests that her identity and her backstory went through many changes during the development of Far Cry 5, and that might explain at least some of the grey areas surrounding the character.

Since she isn’t the Seed brothers’ biological sister and they weren’t raised together, The Book of Joseph doesn’t give a lot of information about her life before Eden’s Gate aside from what the game already tells us: she was a broken person, addicted to drugs, and was “adopted” by Joseph as his sister and Herald. When she joined the cult, since drugs are forbidden by the rules, she first had to overcome her addiction, and the book says she succeeded with the help of scopolamine (basically Bliss). It’s also explained she then worked with a geneticist named Peter, probably on developing Bliss. That said, in the game, he’s never mentioned, cultists never use the word “scopolamine” (always “Bliss”), and nothing clearly indicates it can be or has ever been used as a substitution treatment, so I’m not sure what’s still canonical...

Faith also appears in the short film Inside Eden’s Gate (not entirely canon to me but still good) where she’s played by Mackenzie “Kenz” Lawrén Johnson. I must admit Faith is my favorite Herald in the film; I really like Kenz Lawrén’s interpretation as well as her opinion on the character, which she gave in this interview!

Weirdly, Faith has often been referred to as the “half-sister” by the game’s main writers (such as here or here) even though she isn’t related to the Seed family in the game. It’s possible that she used to be but that was changed at some point. According to the Lead Writer, “Maybe she isn’t liked by the other two brothers as she didn’t grow up with them” (which is hinted at by NPCs and John himself in Far Cry 5). In a now-deleted interview for GameCrate, he also described her as “more of an outsider” and “probably the most fervent believer in Joseph”.

Greg Bryk, who co-created and played the Father, said he believed he needed Faith because “the maternal aspect of the feminine energy is missing” in his life even though it’s something “essential for Joseph to have”. He thinks there have been several Faiths because “when [Joseph] would lose faith, [he] would find another Faith.” And according to him, “she doesn’t need to have a specific energy because there’s something of an essence that [he needs] as opposed to a person”, and she almost has a “mother earth energy”.

While she does give a bit of information about her past life as Rachel in the game, saying she was “ostracized by her community”, “bullied by friends”, “abused by her family”, and “wanted to die”, it’s not always easy to know what’s true and what’s not when it comes to Faith because she’s known for being a master manipulator; lying is canonically part of her modus operandi. In a way, because Faith Seed is a role, I would say she’s also always performing. Unlike what a few NPCs claim, I don’t think that means she never tells the truth, but she’s still undoubtedly “very skilled at twisting the facts and turning any situation to her advantage”, as the game’s Narrative Director put it.

Although the details are unclear, I believe it’s true Rachel was “lost” and “broken” before she arrived in Hope County and joined the Project. It’s also true that, as Faith Seed, she’s now powerful, dangerous, and not innocent anymore, as her former best friend Tracey Lader, who knows her very well and witnessed her transformation (but was unable to stop it), warns the Deputy. I neither mean nor think the situation Faith is in is normal, healthy, or the best thing that could have happened to her, but I do think saying she’s unhappy with it, helpless, in danger, or that she only wishes she could run away from the cult really is a misunderstanding of the character. Faith knows what she’s doing, and she’s very good at doing it. To me, she’s the most powerful Herald.

Since the lore is a bit inconsistent, we’re not entirely sure how the Bliss works and who created it, but we know it’s an almost magical, hallucinogenic and pacifying drug made from “bliss flowers” (heavily inspired by Datura stramonium) that Faith is immune to, can control, and uses to brainwash people. “The Bliss” is also a place, but once again, the details are unclear. It could be her bunker, or maybe just a distorted version of reality that individuals who are exposed to the drug “live” in. Wherever or whatever it is, most people never truly come back from it or fully break free from Faith’s influence, as seen with the Marshal in the game…

In the Project, Faith’s role is to lure (hence the nickname “Siren”) people into the cult and convince them to follow the Father, often with the help of Bliss. If they keep resisting or are “too full of fear and doubt”, high doses of the drug can be administered to them and turn them into Angels, who are comparable to zombies according to some characters. Bliss irreversibly damages people’s brains, and those who become Angels unfortunately can never be saved. Faith and her followers seem to think they’re beautiful creations because they’re faithful to the Project and unable to sin. It seems she has the power to control them (at least partly), and the cult doesn’t hesitate to use them as “shock troops” or “slave labor and beasts of burden”, as NPCs say. They’re indeed very docile and resistant... as well as hard to kill.

Again, there are some discrepancies regarding what happens to potential converts in the Henbane River region, but it seems people first have to walk along the Pilgrimage path and, at the end of it, take a literal leap of faith from the statue of Joseph, just like Faith explains she did (even though whether or not the statue already existed at the time is a bit uncertain). As unbelievable as it sounds, NPCs confirm it’s entirely possible to survive the leap. After walking the Path, some pilgrims become Angels, some simply join the Project, and others don’t survive, either because they don’t make it to the end or die when they jump (maybe because their faith isn’t strong enough, I’m not sure how that works).

In the Family, Faith can be described as “the favorite child” (and I think that makes John jealous), who saw Joseph as her savior when they met and wants others to experience the same feeling, by force if necessary. Just like her brothers, she basically weaponizes her trauma and makes people relive a sublimated version of her life story: she targets the most vulnerable individuals, gives them drugs to ease their torment, and sometimes takes their minds away from them. Even though Faith is fully capable of thinking for herself, isn’t mind-controlled, was a drug user before she joined the Project (not after), and left her old self Rachel “in the darkness” willingly to be reborn as Faith Seed, she still became a new person for the Father and expects the same from anyone she converts, even if that means she has to completely brainwash them.

In conclusion, we don’t really know much about Rachel and her backstory, simply that she was broken, saw Eden’s Gate as a chance to start anew, and happily took it. Since she was young, desperate, and therefore suggestible when she met Joseph, one can wonder if Faith is simply a manipulated, brainwashed victim; a poor, helpless soul devoured by a cult. But although that situation is far from ideal or normal, she and other characters confirm that she too has teeth, and she doesn’t hesitate to use them. Rachel should theoretically just have been a victim, but as Faith Seed, she’s transcended this status. She’s found purpose, power, and is committed to her beliefs. Not everyone in Hope County precisely knows who she is, but now, she does. She’s a multifaceted mystery whom people tend to underestimate, and it’s something she likes to cultivate because that’s how she gets them. She’s a Siren, but in my opinion, also a Phoenix, who was consumed completely and rose up from her own ashes to be born again. Rachel was broken, but Faith is strong. Rachel lost herself, but Faith was found. Rachel was nothing; Faith can be anything.

[itsumoegao]

Make Note

Izuku had said he had always wanted to become a hero since he "was a little kid" and this is true by the fact he has taken notes since he knew how to read and write. Below we have his first two notebooks. The 1st one, with 50pgs, appears juvenile with the blue sky and green grass which is common for very young kids as he began around ages 4-5. Looking at the handwriting, the words are also written rather largely, another common trait for young children when learning how to write.

For the 2nd notebook, the green one, his handwriting is smaller but also slighty shaky as a year passed before he obtained it. He needed a new one after filling out the first as it [[ and the 3rd book ]] are not vertical. Looking at the spines, they are horizontal which is usually for sketch books.

The 3rd book shows he is still writing while very young, evident by the All Might drawing on the cover. He looked at it as part of his reason to keep writing those notes, to keep studying heroes as new ones came into the spot light but All Might would be his top tier. With this one being a sketch book, he ran out of room quickly, again.

But with his 4th book, he had actual lines to compile the information from the previous 3 notebooks. Resketching, rewriting, adding more details to the heroes from the notebooks prior. Here his handwriting is compressed and steady, showing time has passed, perhaps between 7-8 years old.

#5 is another yellow book, filled with completely new heroes now that the older 3 were organized in #4. These were completed around the same time as the handwriting on the covers for #4 and #5, such as spacing, letter size, the curve of the first kanji, distance between header and footer are the same. As if he wrote the titles one after the other.

The 6th book is later addition, ages 9-10. The handwriting stands out for being straight and stiff. As it is an outlier, not matching the others, Izuku may have been in a situation where he needed a book and picked up the first one he saw in a shop. Perhaps there was a new pro on the rise, #5 was filled so he just snatched one, paid and wrote to his hearts content.

Izuku had always been serious about becoming a hero, using whichever materials were available to him at the time. However, with the introduction of #7, ages 11-12, Izuku took a more professional approach as campos books are sturdier and contain between 80-100 pages. [[ Though, I think these are 40pg count? ]] #7 is another compiling of the previous books with #8 being a continuation of what #7 couldn't fit.

This is his current handwriting where he uses thick ink and sharp lines. Now that he sticks to the campos brand and has been writing for about 8 years, he found a formula of efficient note taking, such as drawing the hero's costume and writing down details, leaving spaces for any additional information he may discover later on.

Starting with #9, following notebooks are no longer reiterations. They are filled with new heroes. He may have an updated version of a hero here and there or a page with more information but these have fresh information.

Below we have Notebook #10, the one which contains an entry for Eraserhead! [[ Izuku did not recognize Mr. Aizawa as Eraserhead because he only knew of Eraser with the goggles on. The moment he saw the goggles around Mr. Aizawa's neck, he instantly knew who he was. ]]

#11 and #12 were written between the ages of 13 going on 14. Again, new heroes were added and such.

During the final year of middle school, Izuku continued to write in #13. We see him in the process of writing a Hero Analysis when Mount Lady first appeared and as he observed her battle, he detailed her strengths and weaknesses. Izuku commented "but it'll be kinda hard for her to get around much in the city without damaging lots of things."

Which Mount Lady herself proved to be correct in the following episode. "I need at least a two lane road if I'm going to make my way through!"

After the immediate burning and water damage of #13, Izuku continued to use it but this time, he wrote about students. With all of the new quirks presented to him at U.A. it didn't take long to fill it out with his classmates and those outside of his class too.

He accepts and writes without hesitation. It shouldn't come as a surprise that Katsuki has an entry. Technically, #13 has an updated version of Katsuki as Izuku drew his hero uniform too which Izuku has for all who own a uniform. Even Izuku has featured himself in #13 with a sketch of his own hero costume idea.

His current notebook, #14, age 15-16. One he has not titled yet. It appeared in season 5 as he was ready to write down additional information on the class 1-B students. Class 1-A vs 1-B was useful to Izuku to help observe possible settings a hero may face. Being outnumbered, fighting people who's quirks you don't know, using the environment around you to your advantage, etc.

This exercise taught Izuku how to achieve a flawless win, thanks to his symbol of victory. Izuku knows there is more than one method of winning but in the end, it's teamwork. #14 contains more than just a list of powers, strengths and weakness, what ifs. It has strategies, counters, scenarios as well for possible situations for battle.

As Izuku has an admiration and passion for heroes, he will continue to write and study them. Despite becoming a hero himself, he will still take notes as he is willing to learn from others. He is more than happy to show his entries to anyone wanting to read or learn about a specific hero too. It would make his day actually, someone reading and interested in his studies.

[dodscans]

Hello, tysm for your work translating DoD! I have a question about chapter 68 - when Suleiman says Hurrem sent him poems again in the letter, he comments that she's "much better at this than me." Do you know if "this" is referring to Hurrem being better at composing poems than him, Hurrem being more consistent about sending him poems than he is with her, or something else? Thanks!

Hi anon. Sorry for the late response (because work has been killing me).

When he says that in chapter 68, he means that she's a better poet than him. Actually, Suleiman dabbled in poetry himself and has his own diwan. That's really cool. The Latinized version of his diwan can be found here. I'm not at all knowledgeable about classical Turkish poetry, so my comments are probably bullshit, but from what I gather, Suleiman was quite an accomplished poet. To a modern, ignorant reader like myself, his poems reeks of simping. Well, based on what I've learned in high school about classical poetry, it is indeed about simping about an idealized "beloved" in the most exquisite way, and Suleiman follows this trend. They don't have to mean what they say, because that is how poetry is supposed to be written. But knowing that all those flattery could have been written for Hürrem makes all the difference. Join the squeal party, fangirls!

So, him saying that Hürrem is better at poetry than him shows that she's quite well-read and intelligent, and has the respect of another fellow poet. And I'd like to emphasize that classical Turkish poetry wasn't just about saying pretty things; you had certain metres to follow, and say what you wanted to say in those meters with the fanciest mix of Persian/Arabic/Turkish vocabulary. I, for one, fail to understand those without the excessive use of a Ottoman-modern Turkish dictionary.

On an unrelated note, I have read some of her letters to Suleiman we still have today, and she sounds too cute! I can't tell if that's how palace people spoke at the time, or if it was her actual accent, but reading her letters about how much she misses and is worried about Suleiman make me go "awww..." While a considerable amount of letters were written by the Harem ladies' scribes, they say there's evidence that Hürrem wrote hers herself. Domestic Hürrem and Suleiman ftw!

Actually, thank you for this question. I need to revisit her letters sometime, some of which are compiled in this book.

tl;dr: Hürrem is a scholar and an intellectual.

[princesssarisa]

As long as it's still the anniversary of Branwell Brontë's death, I thought I'd post a question for fellow Brontë readers.

Do you think Charlotte stopped loving Branwell?

Juliet Barker thinks she did. She wrote just that in her definitive biography of the family. I haven't read the bio in full yet, but I did just read the section on Branwell's death after someone I know shared it on Facebook. And as an AuDHD person who in some ways relates too much to Branwell – even though I'm not an alcoholic or a drug addict – and who struggles with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, the idea that Charlotte completely rejected her brother in the end hits hard.

While I don't own Barker's The Brontës, I do own her later compilation of all the family's letters, The Brontës: A Life in Letters. Obviously, when she wrote in the earlier bio that Branwell's failures and vices killed Charlotte's love for him, she was thinking of the famous letter Charlotte wrote to her publisher William Smith Williams after Branwell's death. In that letter, Charlotte described his death as "a mercy" for the family, and wrote:

"I do not weep from a sense of bereavement – there is no prop withdrawn, no consolation torn away, no dear companion lost – but for the wreck of talent, the ruin of promise, the untimely dreary extinction of what might have been a burning and a shining light."

Maybe that letter makes the situation self-evident. Branwell wasn't a "dear companion" to her anymore; she only grieved for his wasted potential, not for him as a person.

But does that really and truly mean she had stopped loving him?

Now, I don't begin to know what it's like to have a family member become an alcoholic and a drug addict, and to have to live with him every day in that state. But from the way Emily and Anne depicted it in their books – clearly drawing on their personal experience – it's obviously brutal. The addictions must have turned Branwell into a different man than the brother they knew and loved. I'd like to think it was that man – the product of the alcohol and opium, not Branwell's true self – whose death Charlotte called a "mercy" and couldn't mourn, but that at heart, she did still love and mourn for the brother she grew up with, even though she had lost him long ago.

I think her letters on the subject make a good case for that. Here's an excerpt from a later letter, also to Williams, about her feelings as she watched Branwell die:

"All his errors – to speak plainly – all his vices seemed nothing to me in that moment; every wrong he had done, every pain he had caused, vanished; his sufferings only were remembered; the wrench to the natural affections only was felt."

And here are the same sentiments expressed with even more rawness in a letter to her best friend Ellen Nussey:

"The final separation – the spectacle of his pale corpse gave more acute, bitter pain than I could have imagined – Till the last hour comes we never know how much we can forgive, pity, regret a near relation – All his vices were and are nothing now – we remember only his woes."

In both letters she also wrote about her certainty that God had forgiven Branwell and the comfort she took in believing he was in heaven and finally at peace.

She also became seriously ill for a week after he died.

Of course it was complicated. But is it fair and accurate to say that Charlotte stopped loving her brother, or is that a little unfair?

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Sunlight – A complete history of the pale elf and the hero 

[Half of the book is stuff you've heard before. All glorious tales of famous battles, wonderful allies, and deals gone wrong. Halfway through the book, the tone shifts, and you land on this page after which the book becomes a compilation of stories told at the campfire.] 

Down in Baldur's gate, at the edge of the city, is a strange house. The shutters seem permanently shut and the couple, seemingly getting paler and paler as the years come by, only go out at night. Only go out together. Truth be told, the people know of his past. They know of his years of torturous being, his year returned to the light of day, and the subsequent taking of the ability to live in the sun once again. And them, well, they are a hero. Thus, no one cares for the two people living in the strange house at the edge of Baldur's gate. They've well deserved their rest and freedom, even if they only spend it in the darkness of the night.  Though they spend their life quietly, they invite everyone over for drinks every once in a while, when their friends are in Baldur's gate. They call it "camp nights" and light a fire in their backyard while the famous bard Alfira plays the night away. As a little jab, she always ends the night on the son she wrote of the main guests of the party each and every time. It is a grim reminder of what the group of friends left behind to fight for the freedom of all, yet, the group always sings alone with glee. It seems they've gotten past the grim mourning of lost memories and getting used to battle scars.  Tonight seems a different kind of camp night. There's a nostalgic blanket over the whole get together and Tav shares stories she's never told before. Gruesome stories that she seemingly finds humour in after all these years. Arabella, a Tiefling who mastered the weave after spending time at the heroes camp, tries to scribble along with the stories hoping to eternalize as much of this history as she possibly can. The pale elf is nowhere to be found; neither is the owlbear Tav called Honey as a tribute to her friend Halsin.  The pale elf is known to curl up to the owlbear in the huge shed and read when everything gets too much but this is usually at the end of the night, not when the night has barely begun. A few guests seem to worry, but before anyone can question Tav on her partner's absence he comes out of the shed and mingles among the crowd. Something you will only find in Arabella's report of the night is that it looked like he had been crying.  In hindsight, most who attended the "camp night" think he might have been writing the following letter. It was found on the porch next morning next to Tav, who had seemingly passed just after first sunlight. The letter was opened, suggesting Tav might have read it before they took their last breath. 

My darling, my soulmate, my sun, 

Our time has been too short in every sense of the word. My mind may wish we had met before I was turned into what I am today, but I know I would not have appreciated what I had at that young age as I could in these years.  This day was bound to come as you are mortal and I am not. As much as I hate that the moment is now, we both knew this day would come sooner than we'd both like. When you told me you felt like your body was failing you, I made peace with passing with you. I've feared the sun for so many years but not today, not tomorrow, not whenever you decide to go.   You have told me you would like us to experience one last sunrise together and I have decided that that is to happen. I will sit beside you, as I have a million times at camp, and bask in the glorious sunlight with my arms around you. Though it was a joke before, I do realize that I never lied a word when I said "when you go, I go." My mind is at peace knowing we will spend our last moments together.  Though I do think we should have discussed vampirism again before we got to this point, I do truly believe that this is good for us. I do not want to be alive forever, I just want to be with you. 

Two hundred years of shit seems like nothing compared to the days spend in the glorious light of your smile, my darling. 

Love, 

Astarion 

Masterlist

Writer's note: I wrote this on, like, six beers and in less than an hour. It is not beta read. Now go cry.

Based on this lil fanart Hamrikaa made which made me ugly cry on the bus.

[1cky-boi]

TW: Topics Of Suicide

The Week After I Killed Myself.

Monday,

I watched as the time ticked slower and slower,

I could feel my pulse in my hands,

Burning edges to a paper that can never be read how it was wrote,

I forgot to leave a letter,

Now my parents are left to wonder where they went wrong.

Tuesday,

The news reached my best friend,

I don't know what he does, but I wish I was there to comfort him.

The news comes on the same,

Police chase,

The weather,

Politics,

And the weather again,

But my parents don't watch.

The faucet in the bathroom drips,

Raising the water bill because I forgot to make sure it was fully off.

My mother would flip it off for me and not say a thing even after it being the fifth time that week,

But now she's trying to remember the way I used to play in the sand,

Before the move,

Before she knew what was happening to me.

When she thought she could still save me.

The school is notified,

But my grades don't weigh me down where I am at now,

I don't have to try so hard to matter anymore.

Wednesday,

The letters in my room are just letters now.

Ones that will only be read maybe once more,

Though it'll never be said how many times it saved a life, I'd hope you knew.

My stuffed animals have not slept in days,

Without a cold body to warm what place do they have in this old house?

The neighbors find out.

Condolences are sent.

Not one has my real name on it.

Thursday,

The funeral I arranged for Saturday,

Because my mom is always off work then.

I do not know who comes, or what is said,

I do not know where or how I was buried,

I was not old enough to pick it for myself,

Knowing my parents I'm probably a diamond, or a tree.

The letters have been found.

They know.

They know I loved you,

And you loved me.

I would have joked about how awkward it'll be when you see my parents again,

But my mom hugs you this time

And says she hasn't seen her baby happy like that in years,

And you both forget where you are for a moment ,

Dream,

Hope a little it's a different situation.

Friday,

My mom is going through my stuff.

My phone first,

She'll find out we were more than friends,

She'll tell my friend I am gone

And she won't know if it's a joke,

But when she sees what I've written

The sinking feeling in her stomach will be all too familiar

After, she'll go to the store,

See the man who always used to ask me how I am,

And break down in front of the produce.

Saturday,

The baby breath is half dead,

The lavender makes the air tense,

There's a mix of regular clothes and formal wear

I would have laughed at anyone who bothered to put on a suit.

I would have said how pretty you looked

My mom compiled home videos and photos from the last year's,

Though there's only a few she thinks are really me,

And they're usually the ones where someone else is with me.

She says the usual:

The "kind"

The "smart"

The "talented"

The "too young for this"

Or maybe she'd say nothing at all.

Ask you if you'd like to say anything and I couldn't hear it.

I always wanted to know what you thought of me.

Sunday,

My room is still how I left it,

The coats on the hanger

And the boots on the outside the closet door.

The books,

Dusty and un-bookmarked,

They'll search for me here,

But none of the words will sound like my voice,

And my mother will keep the video of me.

The video of me as a kid laughing close to her chest.

She wonders where I went when I got older.

How was this grave her baby?

How could I leave her behind after all of the things I said without an apology.

After all that's been done for me,

It was a waste to love me,

That's what somebody would think,

But I won't know for sure.

Whether im in Heaven, Hell, or Nirvana,

I won't come back.

I won't be able to run my hand through your hair,

And I cant feel the warmth of another hand to remind me I'm still here.

I can't hear the music,

I can't hear the screams or the pleas,

I'll be at peace,

But I'll be no more than I am now.

[opaldisaster]

Deity Diaries

11/11/23 8:27 p.m.

It's been maybe a month or two since I made the switch form worshipping Athena, Apollo, Aphrodite, and Hermes to just worshipping Aphrodite and I wish I'd written down when that was exactly. I want to keep track of these things more, especially since I have time blindness. (This legit could have happened two weeks ago idk.) But here we are.

So, I reconfigured my altar. Stripped it down, threw out the food offerings, put away the rest, said goodbye to all other deities, gave them the run down of what was happening, reminded myself that this is only temporary. I wrote Athena a heartfelt letter as she was my main deity and really my introduction into the Greek pantheon all the way back in 6th grade World History class. I cried a bit but was really excited to start this new chapter and really focus my practice so I had enough energy for everyone. I just want to be the best worshipper I can, eventually becoming a devotee.

Well, a few weeks later, turns out I still barely have enough energy for one deity. My memory is shit so I have to go back and reread and recheck everything before I do it. All of my sources are online which I didn't think threw before I "quit" social media. Turns out it's hard to cut down on screen time when your screens have all your information on it.

Between my multiple colds and TikTok withdrawals, (world's cringiest and embarrassing phrase) I haven't done much besides assemble 75% of my altar and stare at the other 25% then ignore it. As I'm writing this I'm only just now realizing that I didn't plan ahead very well, kinda setting myself up for failure. If I had laid out everything I needed to do on paper before getting started, I wouldn't feel like such a failure. I wouldn't be floundering so much.

Since I can't afford a ton of books, (and my booklist is all stored in my TikTok favorites, ugh) I have to spend hours hand writing and/or printing the resources out, organize them, and make them cute (Aphrodite worshipper, duh). All before I even make a formal offering. Ugh this is so exhausting. I'm losing touch with the joy and excitement of research and learning and practicing this faith and craft.

In my own defense, I've been stuck in the same loop for months because I keep losing the list of prayers, spells, and hymns I've compiled over the last 3 years. Either from lack of organization, online sources getting deleted, having too many servers, or being slowed down from not being able to find anything quick enough for my ADHD brain.

It's been super discouraging, tbh. I can't even think of a single spell or prayer to say over my coffee in the morning, the same coffee I've drank for 2 years? And all the research I've done on Aphrodite specifically escapes me the moment I stand in front of her altar? That took me weeks to set up because I couldn't remember if there is any specific ritual done before setting up a new altar? Just talking about this makes me wanna take a nap.

I'm not giving up, though, just frustrated. I know there's a lesson in all this, I just have to be willing to learn it. A well-organized grimoire is a must for me, especially since I have decided not to buy books or return to the hellish rabbit hole that is social media. I have to keep reminding myself:

You're not lazy, you're just unprepared.

You're not lazy, you're just unprepared.

You're not lazy, you're just unprepared.

I'm not lazy, I'm just unprepared.

[fashournalist]

Celebrating Small Wins: Reflections on the First Five Years of my Career

Time flies indeed. As of last Sunday, it's been exactly five years since my "first day in the real world." I know I still have a long way to go, and so much to learn, but I want to appreciate the progress I've made in the past five years.

I've had several part-time jobs back in college but it was on August 20, 2018 when I first reported to work full-time. I was a Media Writer (aka Broadcast Monitor) at Asia's leading media intelligence company, Isentia. Whenever I reached the office, I texted my parents "Happy place na" to let them know I got safe.

I stayed for two years before I got laid off, which triggered feelings that led to this article. (And an open letter to my colleagues/friends on my personal blog)

Looking back, I will always be grateful for my time as a Media Writer. It wasn't easy, I spent countless hours beyond my shift because I wanted to give my best in each of the 41283 summaries I've done for two years.

For five months, I commuted from Los Banos, Laguna to Ortigas everyday, and vice versa, before we were finally able to rent a 5 sqm room in Manila. That was the only room we could afford back then.

There were struggles and days when I wanted to give up. But I've also grown a lot, gained meaningful friendships, strengthened my faith in the Lord, and developed my work ethic.

It was worth it.

I remember often feeling so drained and tired on my way home, but I still looked forward to the next day so I could do my job again. I love learning new things everyday, and this job gave me that opportunity.

If there was one word that would describe my work ethic, that would be Passion. I always put passion and love in every task that I did.

More than a year later, I'm astonished that Isentia has recognized that passion. My teammate and friend Morris Manalaysay nominated me for the Isentia Awards Q1 recognition (without me knowing) and on Nov 21 2019, I was Manila's Isentia Awards Q1 winner alongside colleagues from different countries. That was my first career milestone.

I was so happy Momi got to see this day before she went to heaven. She was so proud, and I'm grateful I got to tell her it's all because of her and Dad that I get to survive each day and reach these milestones. All that I am and all that I ever will be, I owe it to them.

Isentia has been very supportive during my Mom's fight with cancer and raised funds for her, too. When Momi died in 2020, they also supported me in my grieving. I took a break and they only asked me to go back when I was ready.

When I was laid off, my separation anxiety was so strong, especially since I've been close with my batchmates and team friends as if we were high school classmates. (I'm glad we're friends until today even when we're in different companies already.)

Good journeys come to an end, too, for new and better chapters to unfold.

Chapter II

Getting laid off was bittersweet. I said goodbye to a job that I loved but it also led to better opportunities. I've been a Content Writer at Sevron Safety Solutions, worked on various projects for over a year. I got to do things I never tried before and wrote almost everything from blogs, social media posts, courses for The Knights of Safety™️, email campaigns, assessment tests for applicants, pillar pages, cluster pages, technical documents, and more. But my favorite task of all was writing the life stories of my colleagues, which was compiled into an internal book. As a storyteller, creative nonfiction is my favorite form of writing.

I'm also grateful we always aimed to change the world and save lives in each task. This meant a lot to me because I value meaningful work. Dale Allen was possibly the most passionate CEO/founder I've ever worked for. We had a therapist and life coach, too, Markos Yiannis, who had been so helpful in addressing our concerns, whether it's personal or work-related.

But one day, I was included in the layoffs again.

Chapter III

And that was when the plot twist happened. I returned to Isentia! This time, I was reporting to Isentia Singapore. Thanks to Ms Lady Ochel Espinosa, Regional Insights Director for Emerging Markets in Southeast Asia for encouraging me to apply for the role of Senior Insights Analyst in 2021. It was my dream job since 2018. I applied for the role of Insights Analyst in 2020, but I didn't get in. When I got laid off that year, Ms Ochel invited me to apply again, but I was already hired at Sevron. It was my "the one that got away". I'm grateful I got to pursue it in 2022. My favorite task was being part of our PH Elections white paper which was featured by media outlets. My favorite SG client was AIC.

However, I later on realized that as much as this was a truly great opportunity with so much learning and growth, what I really wanted to do was content writing instead of media analysis. I'll always be grateful I reached my dream of being a Senior Insights Analyst, but I realized it wasn't for me.

So after a year, for the first time, I resigned.

I love the company. I love the team. But I had to go. And find my passion.

But no matter where my career takes me, Isentia will always have a special place in my heart.

Chapter IV:

I applied to several Writer job openings. There was this one opening for Content Writer, but during the interview, they said the role was actually article moderation. Then I went through three challenging interviews and thankfully, I passed as an Article Moderator at iOPEX Technologies. Three months later, I became a Senior Article Moderator. And in my sixth month, I was recognized as the Top Overall Performer and agent with Top Attendance.

As much as it's fulfilling to be recognized for having good performance, I'm just as grateful for maintaining a good attendance. I have five rides to the office every day, encounter some floods along the way when it's raining, commute as early as 12AM, 3AM, 4AM, or 10PM depending on our shift, and so far, I've never been late yet since I started in February 🥹 I'm not saying I'll never be late, although that's the goal, but I just feel grateful and lucky that I was never late yet. Grateful, because everyday is a struggle, but I'm surviving it through God's grace. Lucky, because I know there are things outside our control that make tardiness inevitable and valid sometimes, but so far those things haven't affected me yet. So thank you po, Lord.

I believe in celebrating small wins just as we treasure huge milestones, and each time we report to work, each time we punch out after a long tiring day, each hour that we meet our quota, those are daily wins worth celebrating.

I'm glad to be back in the world of news, just like in my first job. From monitoring to moderating :)

There may be struggles and challenges, but I appreciate the job and the team. Very blessed to work with proactive teammates who happen to be good friends as well. (By the way, we are hiring! Let me know if you want to apply haha I doubt if anyone will read this lengthy story time but just in case, I'm putting this out here).

I was looking for Content Writing, but I found something else. And I enjoy it.

I realized, my adviser was right. it's okay to be open to new opportunities other than my passions. I shouldn't limit myself to writing.

What they say is true: you'll never know until you try. (I'm still writing everyday now, though, but in my journal or my verbose Instagram stories which are literally stories because of their long captions 🤣)

I'm grateful for each job I've had and currently have. My Dad and I were also able to transfer to a much better, bigger apartment unit (about 21 sqm?) since October 18, 2020. Thanks to the severance pay from Isentia 😅 Indeed, "All things work together for the good of those who love God." (Romans 8:28)

There are plenty of dreams that are yet to be fulfilled, but for now, I want to cherish the fact that I'm already living what I only once dreamt of.

I may not have been (or not yet?) a startup founder and CEO, or UNHRC/UNCHR diplomat, or New York Times bestselling author, or Miss Universe (😅) just like my younger self dreamt of, but I'm still thankful for the progress I've made. It's not much, but to my younger self, this is already a miracle. Sometimes imposter syndrome hits me, but I fight it by appreciating my hard work.

I look back at my first job, the struggle of commuting from LB to Ortigas each day, the struggle of squeezing ourselves in a 5 sqm room, the struggle of making ends meet, and I just feel so blessed to be where I am now. We haven't reached financial freedom yet but little by little, we're on our way.

To my future self, I don't know where you'll be, but I hope I've made you proud as well.

At the end of the day, all wins, big and small, are because of God's grace. His faithfulness carries me through every single day. As always, without Him, I can do nothing.

To everyone who's been part of this journey, thank you for the memories and lessons you've shared with me. And thank you for the moments we have yet to share.

To Momi, how I wish you're still here to celebrate our small and big wins but I know you're watching over us everyday. I'll do my best to keep making you proud up there. 🥹

To Apa, Dad, I'm so glad you're here with me. All that I accomplish each day is a result of how much you believe in me. I have many dreams in life but my greatest dream is to see you live up to 104 years old.

Thank you Lord Jesus for sustaining me in the first five years of my career. I surrender to You the bigger picture and the little details that make up each day.

Here's to the journey that lies ahead and to the growth that awaits ❤️

(PS. If you've read this far, message me an emoji. I just want to conduct an experiment char haha I'm just curious who was patient enough to read all this but I doubt if anyone will read this all 🤣. It's okay though. I had fun releasing this out of my chest 🥹)

[shadowjtrev]

2 of 2

I knew I had a few months ahead of me but I wanted to make sure I did what I could to just showcase what she meant to me, to give her something that would stand the test of time, something that she could go back to and just go through during hard times or even happy times, something that just captured us and everything we've been through within a year of our time together, because we both saw and felt, even though we had only known eachother for such a small amount of time, the bond and impact we had on eachother was something, beautiful, and unique..

so I brainstormed, I got ideas, threw some away, started rough drafts and threw those away, I can't count how many times I reworked all of this but during this time I was also gathering and going through every single message we had sent eachother, every picture, the good and bad, everything, and I meticulously compiled everything together, and in that moment i didn't know what I was doing but I just felt it was important.

so with all these ideas, messages, pictures, everything, on the wall, I finally decided exactly what I wanted to do.. I had gathered and printed countless pictures of us and our loving messages to eachothers, pictures of her and her son together, random moments, and I compiled everything into this booklet I found, I filled nearly every page with our memories together, leaving little notes and stickers and empty spaces so she could draw and decorate, and towards the end of the book I had put these square sticky label notes each showing every single song we had sent eachother.. and at the very end I wrote just how much I love her.. I remember the tears I had shed making this gift, all of it out of love and passion, but some out of heart ache, just because I was seeing how different things had become, the distance that was created, how much things had changed and idk, I guess I knew I was losing her so creating this was my attempt to just.. bring her back to me.

but I sealed the book shut and wrote a letter to her like if it was my last and attached it to the frame of the box, and in an envelope I dropped a USB in there that held an archive of every picture of us, almost every message, basically the story of us..

during that time was a difficult time, and just getting her to show her the gift was a struggle in itself but the moment she went through it was a moment and experience I will forever have in my heart.. she laughed, she cried, especially on the section with her and her son, she teared up snd laughed and looked at me saying how it was her favorite, she loved it, I read my letter to her and towards the end i made a few promises to her, and then I asked, no matter what happens between us, before any decisions are made, if i could have a dance with her ..

and I remember the tears in her eyes as she said "oh wow" as I turned my little radio on, with the Elvis Presley song Love Me Tender, and I took her hands into mine and we slow danced as I hummed along to the song.. that night ended exactly how I had hoped.. unfortunately things didn't plan out as time went on, certain things had happened, certain decisions were made, and although it devasted me, I was happy that I got to show and give her something like this..a testament of my love for her

as it stands though, I'm sure that USB is lost or thrown away.. she never took her gift as it stayed with me because she felt it was safer here.. although it made me sad, I understood why.. and it'll be something I'll always protect. even if it breaks my heart, even if my mind runs with how I could've done things differently.. I need to remind myself and understand that I was in a very difficult and impossible position, and I was doing everything I could..

[yihrae]

I attended Literati’s typewriting workshop today. It was an absolute blast. The decision to attend was very impromptu, but now I can confidently say it was a wise choice.

I entered the seminar room as a stranger to all, as they were to me. They asked if I was here for the typewriting workshop, to which I nodded. They told me seating was free, so I hesitantly walked around, until I found a group of guys and sat with them. There were around 10 groups of three or so within the room, so around 30 in total. We experimented with the typewriter for a while. It was functional but difficult to use. Getting the indentation down was most difficult. Not to mention sometimes the keys would get stuck if you typed too fast. The paper was also exceedingly excruciating to insert. But I think if you gave me a week or so I’d get used to it eventually, and life would function as per normal! It’s really not that primitive in that sense.

They had Dunkin Donuts too. This was the moment where I was convinced I was destined to join the literature club. Anyway I gave them my telegram so they can send me a sign up form :)))

I thought of who I should write letters to. I ended up thinking of my parents first. This was what I wrote:

After writing our letters, we got to seal them inside a letter with a wax stamp. First, we would choose the colours we’d like for our stamp. These colours came in little hexagons of wax. They were around the size of a quarter of a Mentos.

For the letter above, I chose gold, white and bronze. It turned out quite pretty! Unfortunately I forgot to take a picture. I did however seal another one, which I did get a picture of!

(Mine is the top-most one!)

Pretty right? I think it’s very well made. I’ll keep this letter for a while.

During the event, I met some people. There were two guys, one named Ron (who upon revealing his name, I had asked if it was the same Ron as Ron Weasley), and another being Raman, who had written a letter to his mother, wishing her a happy birthday (very sweet). I also met Amber. They had given out a book containing a compilation of works (writings and poetry mainly) that people had submitted for the literature club’s most recent writing competition. The theme was “Seasons”. Amber asked for my signature on the book. She asked whether I had written anything, to which I replied I hadn’t! But she said I should sign anyway so I did. Conversely, later I had asked for her signature on my copy, which she had written in! It was a poem which the contents of I have not analysed yet. I also met two people named Wint and Crystal. Wint asked me what my read of the year while Crystal typed out a poem on the typewriter. I told her it was “The Paper Menagerie”. I provided some context of the story as well as how I had cried at the halfway mark (page 6). She told me she had been into Wife Divorce stories lately (or something???). She said her obsession had led her to read five books in a week which I was throughly impressed by of course. I also got to meet some of the literature club EXCO. They are all very pleasant. I think I’ll fit in well here.

I also wrote some nonsense HAHAHA

[reasoningdaily]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2023/07/29/black-hair-children-book-bans/

Her book empowers Black children, and hopefully won’t enrage adults

The email shouldn’t have made me nervous.

It was from a young Black woman raised in D.C., and it contained an advance copy of a children’s book she had written.

The work had grown from an earlier project St. Clair Detrick-Jules launched after her younger sister, Khloe, was bullied by classmates for her Afro and didn’t want to return to school. Other students had called the 4-year-old’s hair ugly, and she had believed them. Hearing what happened to her sister reminded Detrick-Jules of how she was teased for her own hair when she attended a predominantly White elementary school in D.C. and how it took her until after high school to stop wishing her face was framed with straight, silky strands.

She didn’t want her sister to waste that much time disliking a part of herself. So, Detrick-Jules taught herself photography. She then photographed 101 Black women with different natural hairstyles and compiled those images in a book she titled “My Beautiful Black Hair.”

I told you about that book in a column two years ago.

If at the time Detrick-Jules had told me that she was also planning to publish a children’s book, I wouldn’t have felt nervous for her. Not even a little bit.

But the country has changed in the past few years. We are now witnessing a war on children’s books that is expanding in ways that would be laughable if they weren’t so concerning.

The push to pull books that address race, ethnicity and LGBTQ+ issues out of public spaces has lately been growing even uglier and more unpredictable.

People have gone from focusing mostly on school libraries to now making demands of public libraries. A recent Washington Post article detailed what that has looked like for a community in Virginia. In Front Royal, people have overwhelmed the library staff with hundreds of book “reconsideration” requests, persuaded lawmakers to withhold library funding until concerns are addressed, and accused the library of sexualizing and brainwashing children. “Bearing the brunt of the anger is the library’s staff and its 15-member, all-volunteer Board of Trustees, who include a retired Air Force general, a lawyer, an accountant, parents, grandparents, churchgoers and home-schoolers,” my colleague Gregory S. Schneider wrote in that article.

People across the county also are taking aim at picture books. That’s right; they are scrutinizing those brightly illustrated books created to capture the attention of babies, toddlers and young readers and filing complaints with school systems about them.

Some of the illustrated books that have received complaints, according to an article that my colleague Hannah Natanson recently wrote, are: “Julián Is a Mermaid,” a book that features a boy who dresses as a mermaid, “Peanut Goes for the Gold,” a book about a nonbinary guinea pig, and “Skippyjon Jones,” a book about a cat who believes he is a swordfighter.

The person who filed a complaint about that last book, according to the article, argued that it “promotes negative stereotypes towards Mexicans and the Spanish language” because the letter “O” is added to the end of the words throughout the book. The cat sings at one point, “My name is Skippito Friskito. / I fear not a single bandito. / My manners are mellow, / I’m sweet like the Jell-O, / I get the job done, yes indeed-o.”

Yes indeed-o — that is how ridiculous the fight over the children’s sections of libraries has become.

I remember reading “Skippyjon Jones” once to my sons when they were younger. I’m Mexican American, and I didn’t find it offensive. I found the rhythm catchy, and I was glad the story held the attention of two squirmy boys for a few minutes.

But that was just my impression of the book. I don’t expect everyone to share it. I can respect that some people will want to put down the books I want to pick up. What I can’t respect is their belief that they have the right to snatch from my hands, and the hands of other parents, books that we want to read to our children. That picture books are coming under attack shows that the objectors’ fight never was about supporting parental choice. It’s always been about eliminating choice.

The titles and themes of the books that these groups want to ban may differ, but they all share this: They empower the people those groups would rather see weakened.

“I’m deeply concerned about the current slew of book bans across the country,” Detrick-Jules told me. “I’m concerned for Black and Brown students, for LGBTQ+ students, for immigrant students, for students with disabilities. … Our kids — collectively, as in, the kids of America — deserve to feel seen, represented and valued.”

After Detrick-Jules published “My Beautiful Black Hair,” her book was mentioned by name in a column by the conservative author Ann Coulter. In it, Coulter wrote that “white schoolchildren are being browbeaten about their ‘white privilege’ and instructed to ‘unpack’ their ‘white privilege knapsack.’”

When people share their stories with me, I become invested in them, which is why I was nervous to read Detrick-Jules’s new book. I knew the story behind it — that it had grown out of White children teasing a Black child. I also knew that other children’s books that have dared to point out how racism has harmed, and continues to harm, Black people have become targets for book bans.

But when I opened her book, which was illustrated by Tabitha Brown and will be available to buy in September, I realized she didn’t tell that part of the story. It was a picture book, after all. The book is titled “My Hair Is Like the Sun,” and the pages feature photos of Black children with different hairstyles next to images from nature.

Detrick-Jules said the idea for the book came to her when she was interviewing one of the women for her other book. The woman told her that her classmates used to call her “Tree Girl” because she wore an Afro. The nickname was meant as an insult, but it got Detrick-Jules thinking about how curls can resemble the waves of an ocean and how locs can flow downward like the rain.

“So much of what we admire in nature — its power, its strength, its freedom, its beauty, its joy — can be found in our own kinks and curls,” she told me. “For so many Black kids, and adults, our hair is seen as a chore, as something that needs to be done. I want ‘My Hair Is Like the Sun’ to be a reminder that our hair is actually a gift, and it’s a blessing that we get to experience it in so many forms.”

One page of the book reads: “My hair is like a waterfall, rushing toward the ground.”

Another page: “My hair is like a river, winding all around.”

When I finished flipping through the book, I felt sure of one thing and unsure of another. The book will no doubt empower some children. Less certain is whether it also will upset some adults.

[ms-hells-bells]

20 years later, someone wrote a poignant letter to another guyana paper, in regards to how poorly the girls were treated, with so little celebration and news in regards to their survival, and even worse, all the support they were promised after their rescue, like over $50,000 to the eldest when she turned 18, and helping her into nursing school, never materialised.

Dear Editor,

Really time does fly, I couldn’t believe that it’s almost 20 years since those two sisters were lost in our dense jungle. I’m sure that I speak for many when I say it was completely blotted out from my mind until Stabroek News’ Gaulbert Sutherland took us back in time: “Girl lost in jungle 19 years ago recalls ordeal” S.N. Oct 6th, 2014.

Reading the story about Bertina and Bernadette Domingo was definitely not a “Cinderella” kind fairy-tale stuff, and if there is anyone who reads it and thinks so I beg of you to share your views perhaps it may help me to see it from a different and positive perspective.

I can remember so well their humility and respect which they exhibited upon reaching some miners at a camp-site after such an ordeal even as young as they were then, the first set of words they uttered were “good afternoon”, such impassive response befitting philosophers. Few grown adults under such condition would have been able to maintain their composure.

But after reading what Gaulbert Sutherland reported, the permutations of thoughts that flooded my mind left me in quandary: Just why should I be worried, bemoaning over the affairs of others? This is the way of Society, these things will go on and on forever, just who do you think you are? Who is listening?

Who cares? Why keep writing words that no one hears? Then for a moment a thought – why allow yourself to become like them, what good does it bring?

And by the way I think these kind of stories should be compiled into a book, we have so many poignant, heart-rending human interest stories that would sure make wonderful readings – they need chronicling.

But definitely there are some worrying things that were mentioned: the promise made to the sisters by the then late President, $65,500 they were to uplift upon attaining the age of 18 years; Bertina said she lost all of her documents when she took ill – bank slip, medal awarded, plaque etc.

She had wanted to become a nurse, was she assisted in any way in realising her life’s ambition? She never got a chance to write exams, form two was the highest class then in that community – what now!?

Also mentioned was the difficulty getting items to those remote areas; that her 11-year-old daughter would soon be sent to Secondary school at Annai and would be boarding there, the money promised to her and sister would certainly be welcome. I will play the positive card here and assume that Bernadette the younger sister is doing well in Brazil, so let that be.

Editor, in light of all the above it behoves one to ask; just where was/are the representative of the community? Government officials, Toshaos and other personnel?

For a very long time I was under the impression that special attention was being paid to those two sisters, they were our young heroines. I remember two American pilots who were lost somewhere in the desert for two weeks, their plane was shot down/crashed and they were decorated and honoured as heroes. They made headlines all over magazines, tabloids etc. And they were grown men, soldiers with sturdy constitutions trained in survival skills as compared with our two young women-virtually babies – 9 and 13 years old and had to battle with a formidable and treacherous jungle infested with wild ferocious beasts and dangerous reptiles empty handed – except for a cutlass – starving and being stalked by a jaguar which they endured and survived for about six weeks! You know it’s so disheartening, one hears and reads so much about the big brouhaha being made, the rapid and radical positive changes being made in these remote far-reaching hinterland regions, yet now reading this story after twenty years, it seems such an illusion, sad indeed.

Bertina and Bernadette, though now 32 and 28 years old respectively, together have 11 children six and five; and while that is nothing unusual, upon reflection and examining the present I don’t think we would want to classify the outcome of events, since their ordeal as a form of achievement where we can be proud. With six children to take care of, Bertina does farming and fishing in the jungle surrounding her remote village Apoteri, while her eldest son who is 15 years old works in the gold field.

In the inner recesses of our minds our conscience speaks.

Yet I sensed that she does exhibit heroine qualities, for though she has not been able to become a nurse, she does possess the strength, resilience and determination nursing six children – a nurse in her own right, as mothers are in spite of broken promises, disappointments and lost medals. But she deserves more than a medal at this stage. I wish the sister the grace and fullness of life and I hope that somehow she would be able to see this letter.

in reading more about the colombian children that survived the plane crash and jungle, i stumbled upon this story. there is almost no english news about it, largely only an AP article from 1996 about it, there's not even a wikipedia page, but i found a translated page of a guyana newspaper with the story.

THE gripping, inspiring survival experience of two young girls lost in Guyana’s jungles is the stuff epic films are made of.

Bertina and Bernadette Domingo of the Wapishiana tribe, Apoteri Village in the Rupununi began travelling from 7th April 1995 with their uncle up the Essequibo River; an uncle who had been instructed by the father of the girls to take them direct to the family farm.

Instead he diverted in the opposite direction with them, paddling for ninety-five miles in a canoe, then forcing them to trek through the jungle, threatening to kill the terrified girls when they cried.

At Pakani Falls they watched in fear as their uncle died of malaria – an uncle whose motives for his actions are shrouded in secret, lost forever in the hinterland landscape that had been the undoing of men from a time even preceding the Spanish Conquistadors.

If that uncle meant harm to his innocent, trusting nieces, as his actions indicated he did, because terrible pictures come to mind of child and female trafficking, he paid a terrible price for his heinous betrayal of his brother and nieces.

But that was no real consolation to the two young girls, who were left alone and defenceless to fend for themselves in the dense, dark rainforest, with merely a cutlass, a hammock, and their traditional tribal skills to keep them alive.

They were forced to undertake a journey that would test all their survival skills, their resilience, their character, and their survival instincts if they were to live.

The older Bertina, at thirteen, would have to become the leader, transmitting her unshakeable faith that they would survive their ordeal to her frightened nine-yr-old sister. In turn, the response of the younger girl, and the faith she reposed in her older sibling, would bolster Bertina’s spirit and inspire and encourage her to greater feats of endurance.

Before their journey ended they would have traversed over 200 miles of virgin rainforest, at the mercy of the elements, with all the inherent dangers of the deep rainforests – from the remote reaches of Essequibo to approximately 190 miles up the Berbice River – a mile away from the Lindo tributary.

They ate what they could, but their knowledge of the land and basic survival skills, inculcated from birth by the traditions of their aboriginal tribe, came to their rescue, resulting in their finding the “haiwa” wood to produce the most crucial requirement for their protection at night – light.

The girls staved off hunger by eating berries, peppers and fish caught by the traditional method. They remembered their tribe’s ancient skill of lighting an area of water with the “haiwa” wood to entice fish to the surface, then spearing them with a spear – in their instance with a cutlass.

The girls also had a miraculous escape from the claws and jaws of a jaguar and were forced to keep their terror at bay when they encountered the large snakes, crocodiles, and other large and dangerous denizens that proliferate in Guyana’s rainforests.

At one point they thought that they were about to be rescued. Hearing the sound of an engine their hopes soared as they walked quickly toward the sound and what they hoped would have been the end of their ordeal.

But as fast as they walked it was not enough and the frightening sounds of the rainforest enclosed them once again.

Rescue seemed near at hand once more when they stumbled upon a porknocker’s camp, but the camp had long been abandoned and was empty of any human presence. At nights they slung their hammock high in the trees to protect themselves from the many ever-existent perils threatening their survival every minute, with every step they took, and even in their sleep.

Many nights Bertina stayed awake for hours watching protectively as the exhausted Bernadetta slept the sleep of the innocent.

Meanwhile the girls’ parents were frantically looking for them and search parties were organized. The parents, accompanied by members of one search party went as far as Kurupukari – 60 miles from the Potaro River, but had to give up, not knowing what direction to take in the vast, dense rainforest.

Frantic messages were sent to relatives living in Georgetown in attempts to locate the uncle and girls, but to no avail.

Finally, at 5.50 p.m. on the third day of May, 31 days after they had left home, covered with mosquito bites and weak with hunger, Bertina and Bernadetta stumbled into a porknocker’s camp.

The astonished miners fed the girls and then took them into the city, where officialdom took over, affording them medical and other care.

Their rescuer, a miner named Gonsalves, said that the area in which they were found was so remote that hardly anyone ventured there.

The indomitable will to survive, their stoic resilience in the face of betrayal and overwhelming dangers, and the epic journey of these two fragile little ones is the stuff of which legends are made.

This was triumph of the human spirit against all odds. These two little girls were imaginative, resourceful, determined, tenacious, and, above all, courageous beyond the parameters of normal human endurance of body and mind.

To honour their resilience and courage in the face of danger and adversity, the Domingo sisters were deservedly conferred with a special award for courage during the 1996 investiture ceremony by then Executive President of Guyana, Dr. Cheddi Jagan.

They had also been awarded with a plaque saluting their bravery by the South Ruimveldt Policing Group.

Bertina and Bernadetta Domingo represent the best of the indigenous peoples of this land.