#and when the release cue comes she dives in for a treat which

[fjordfolk]

pictured: dogs sorted in order of most to least amount of pigment

[linuxgamenews]

Solve Puzzles and Uncover Chaos in One Thousand Acts of Decency Case 3

One Thousand Acts of Decency Case 3 releases for the episodic mystery visual novel on Linux, Mac, and Windows PC. Thanks to DomeDev for bringing their creative magic to life. Which you can find on itch. If you’re into mystery, drama, and solving puzzles with a touch of chaos, you’re in for a treat. One Thousand Acts of Decency Case 3 is dropping soon, and it’s bringing a truckload of content with it. Not only are we getting the third instalment of this episodic visual novel game on Linux, but it’s also launching on mobile. So you can now crack mysteries on Android. So, what’s packed into this new episode? Let me break it down for you. Case 3 rolls out with over 120,000 words (that’s like quick-reading a couple of novels), 50 fresh illustrations, and 12 brand-new music tracks to set the mood. Expect around six hours of gameplay, filled with clever puzzles and mind-twisting mysteries. Oh, and did I mention? One Thousand Acts of Decency is completely free to download. All three cases.

A Film Set Full of Secrets

Case 3 jumps in a few months after the events of the last episode. Chive O'Higgins has been enjoying some rare peace, hanging out with Shallot and Oscar. But of course, that doesn’t last. Enter Melanie Moore, a film director who calls up Chive out of nowhere. She insists he meets Shallot at this sketchy chemical plant, which just screams trouble. Curiosity gets the best of him, and Chive heads over to this shady place called Xedex Industries. Turns out, there’s a guerrilla film shoot happening there. All seems relatively normal (for once) until Bentley, the Dome's all-seeing robotic moderator, pops in to drop a bombshell: Someone’s been murdered. Cue the dramatic music. Melanie immediately points the finger at Shallot, but she’s acting suspiciously jumpy about the whole thing. Now it’s up to Chive to dig through the mess, solve the murder, and clear Shallot’s name.

One Thousand Acts of Decency - Case 3 Trailer

The theme this time? Betrayal. Why do people turn on each other? Can you ever really trust your friends? And when someone betrays you, can that bond ever be fixed? Expect to uncover hidden lies, face twisted secrets, and ask yourself who you can trust. Chive’s about to dive headfirst into a web of deceit, and you’re coming along for the ride.

What is One Thousand Acts of Decency?

For those new to the series, One Thousand Acts of Decency is a murder-mystery puzzle adventure available on Linux, Mac, Windows PC, and now Android. The first case released on January 16th, 2024, followed by Case 2 in April. Case 3 is landing on December 28th. The story follows college student Chive O'Higgins, who somehow gets mixed up in this dystopian system called The Dome. Here’s the kicker: if a murder happens, the Dome locks everyone inside until the killer is found. You’ve got eight hours to solve the crime or, well... no one really knows what happens when the timer hits zero. With Shallot, his wild cousin, and Oscar, a nosey journalist, Chive races against time to figure things out. Think classic detective games but with extra flavor – quirky characters, bizarre situations, and puzzles that actually make you think. Plus, the soundtrack slaps, and the art style makes it all pop. The devs behind One Thousand Acts of Decency wanted to make sure anyone could jump in and have fun. You can play the episodic visual novel game however you like – keyboard, gamepad, mouse, or even just tapping away on your phone screen. They’ve put a lot of love into this Linux game, and it shows. So, if you’re down for some detective work with a side of chaos, One Thousand Acts of Decency Case 3 is waiting for you. Grab your magnifying glass, and let’s get solving. Check it out on itch, since it is FREE!

[babi-correia]

Finding Fire (Part 13)

Words: 1184 Warnings: None Pairing: None A/N: No hate for anyone during this part, I just think she’d react like that

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

You had just passed the baby through the window to Severide when the powerline's spark comes into contact with the fuel on the floor, a fire flaring up quickly. 

You slam your window puncher into the rear window and dive out, feeling someone grabbing your suspenders and pulling you away from the car as someone else douses you with water. 

"I'm fine, I don't need another shower, cut it out!" You scramble to your feet, watching the car being consumed by flames as the Engine crew works to put it out. "We got reinforcements, huh?"

"Yeah, you do." Casey's voice is right behind you, and you feel your suspenders being released. 

"Our conversation isn't over." You nearly growl at him before you move on to the next vehicle.

----

You're washing your hands back at the firehouse when the commotion starts. You shake your hands dry as you make it onto the floor, seeing a blonde woman on the driveway. Her face reddens the moment she sees you.

"You, you bitch!" She screams, coming towards you. "What have you done!?" 

She shoves you and you shove her back.

"Who the fuck are you!?" You retort, anger rising. The rest of the firefighters come your way, trying to make some distance between you and the blonde. Casey tries to pull you back and you step away from him. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm Hailey Upton, Jay's partner." You nod, gesturing with your hand for her to continue. "He was conducting a raid on the supposed arsonist you gave us intel on, and the building exploded. He's in the hospital right now."

"I just gave you the result of the investigation at the time, nothing else, don't try to pin this on me!" You can feel the veins on your neck strain as you point your finger at her. "You got some bad intel from your CIs, and that surely isn't my fault."

You see two cars pull up in the driveway to the firehouse, the rest of the Intelligence unit coming out of them. 

"What about the shooting two nights ago?" She pushes.

"What about it? Chicago is a dangerous town, and we happened upon a turf war."

"Such a coincidence that your car was shot, huh?"

"We were at the wrong place, at the wrong time." You hear your voice shaking, becoming even more irritated. "If you're even thinking that I did something to get me and Jay shot at, you can quit it."

"What's going on here?" Chief Boden's voice booms through the floor as he greets Voight curtly. 

"Nothing, Chief. Detective Upton here had some doubts and I cleared them up for her. I believe they were on their way out right now." You remark, your eyes on Upton the whole time. "Right, Detective?"

She turns her back on you and walks out quietly. You storm off inside the house, locking yourself inside your office and closing the blinds. 

You take a deep breath, sitting on your bed, and resting your elbows on your knees, watching your hands as they shake before wringing them together. A loud knock against your door startles you.

"Locked door and closed blinds means no visitors wanted." You growl, dropping back onto your bed and covering your eyes with your hands. 

"I'm just checking in on you, girl." Severide's voice was right outside your door. "I wanna have a little chat with you."

You reluctantly open the door, letting him in before closing it again. 

"What can I help you with?" 

"What was she talking about? What shooting? You didn't tell anyone anything."

"Sorry if I'm not putting it out there that my car got shot at with me and Jay inside, didn't think it was that important to broadcast."

"I'm not attacking you, (Y/L/N). I came to talk to you as a friend and as a coworker." 

You sit on the bed and put your head on your hands, rubbing your temples. 

"I got my candidate living with me, injured, I got shot at, I almost burned down inside a car, apparently a good friend of mine got blasted and is in the hospital, and I'm being blamed for three of those four things. You guys think I'm bailing on CFD and banging Jay, but guess what, I'm not. We're friends. And then Casey comes with all his self-righteousness about how I'm sleeping with Jay and implying it's a bad attitude when in reality the one who had a bad attitude about anything was him." You pause and take a shaky breath, feeling the tears prickling in your eyes. "I know you're his friend Kelly, but I can't deal with his bullshit."

"He's jealous out of his mind." Kelly says, sitting next to you. "Casey. I think he went to see Jay now to talk to him about you. You know, give him the whole 'you better treat her right' speech."

"Oh God please no." You groan, burying your head on your hands. "Jay and I aren't dating. Jay knows what happened the night of the gala. He's going to be so confused, oh dear." 

As if on cue, your phone signals a message from Jay.

"What the hell is Casey thinking? Is he out of his mind?"

You quickly type back. 

"You told him we weren't dating, right?"

You anxiously wait for the next notification, which comes not long after.

"I was too dumbfounded to even reply to him. He came, he gave his little speech and left right after."

You sigh and cover your face with your hand, taking a deep breath before replying to Jay.

"Alright. We'll talk about this after you're discharged, get well soon!"

You put your phone on the table and turn to Kelly.

"Casey just talked to Jay, didn't even let him reply." 

"He's just mulling over and convinced that you and Jay are dating. Even Stella told him you were not and he didn't believe her." 

"Kelly, this conversation never happened, you understand?" You can feel a headache setting in. "I just want this whole ordeal to be over with." 

Severide nods and pats your shoulder before leaving your office, closing the door behind him. You lay back on the bed and close your eyes, covering them with your arm... until another knock jostles you. 

"What??" You grumble, rolling over and sitting up as the door opens, revealing Casey. "Look, other than Upton, you're kinda the last person I want to see right now." 

"Didn't you say our conversation wasn't over?" He raises a brow at you and you feel your blood begin to boil. 

"Are you so dense that you can't read the mood to tell when a conversation is appropriate or not?" You get up, getting almost chest to chest with Casey. "Also, what were you thinking, going to talk to Jay at the hospital? Are you out of your mind?" 

"I'm trying to do the right thing."

You can't stop the laugh that comes out of your mouth.

"Now you care about doing the right thing, huh?" You point to the hallway. "Get the fuck out of my office."

[doomonfilm]

Thoughts : Ganja & Hess (1973)

I’m not sure how it got by me when Spike Lee released Da Sweet Blood of Jesus, but I was somehow unaware of the fact that the film was a remake of the Bill Gunn underground classic Ganja & Hess, which I’d heard of but had not had the pleasure of seeing.  With Black History Month approaching, and a plan in place to use my timeline to voice examples of unjust killings, I decided to use the DOOMonFILM - FIlm Discussion Group as a platform to celebrate Black creatives.  On the same day that I shared an article about Bill Gunn to the page, the I Saw What You Did podcast covered him as well, and I took that as a sign to finally dive into his catalog, with Ganja & Hess being the obvious entry point.

Dr. Hess Green (Duane Jones) is the personal doctor for George Meda (Bill Gunn), a man with a vampiric addiction to human blood that must be satisfied in order for him to survive.  After contemplating a failed suicide, George Meda decides to attack Hess in his sleep, stabbing him with a ceremonial dagger that passes the vampirism forward to Hess before finally succeeding in killing himself.  For a brief time, Hess attempts to feed on the blood he is able to find and obtain from victims without drawing attention to himself, but one day, Ganja Meda (Marlene Clark), the estranged wife of George, returns home.  Ganja and Hess quickly form a romantic bond, and eventually Ganja discovers George’s body, but rather than be fearful, her relationship with Hess deepens, and the two are eventually married.  For a time, they share their exploits, but eventually the pair is forced to make tough personal decisions that directly impact their relationship.

For a vampire film made in the heart of the exploitation (and blaxploitation era), Ganja & Hess is surprisingly high-brow, intellectual and poetic in its approach.  Rather than linger on scenes of vampires creeping in the shadows, glamourizing themselves and hammering home their bloodlust to the point of being ridiculous, the film treats its vampiric characters as sympathetic victims, similar to someone with a drug addiction that fuels their actions and desires.  To that end, when Hess becomes the new victim, we are forced to share in his torture and despair, rather than find entertainment in his potential adventures and folly.  When served up Ganja on a silver platter, he would rather retreat in shame to curb his addiction to blood rather than use her as a source of food, even when Ganja chooses to display the less favorable aspects of her character.  Ganja & Hess also takes a brief stint to focus on Black identity, among all of the other topics it handles, with the same amount of grace and subtle touch as said topics... Ganja’s reflections on Black womanhood and child-raising particularly stand out as a powerful moment.

The way that Bill Gunn mixes the ideas of faith and fear are poignant to say the least, and the inclusion of both the church and religious art provides an interesting source of emotional subtext for the film.  This point is driven further home with the inclusion of different African visions and music that fade in and out of the film’s “consciousness”.  Even the George Meda character (played by Gunn) speaks of his failed suicide attempt as “the murderer releasing the victim”, as if to inform us that his soul is a prisoner in the body of a vampire.  Ganja & Hess is also presented as a love story more so than a horror film, which is interesting in of itself as the romance spawns from the dark recesses of George Meda and Dr. Hess Green’s conflict, as well as George and Ganja’s fractured relationship.  Once the sparks begin to fly between our titular characters, the moments of love are given the same attention and presentation as the moments of fear, making the relationship portions and the vampiric portions feel like parallel films rather than an intertwined narrative, and further driving home Dr. Hess’s hold on humanity in the face of his tortured existence, with the only true connecting thread being Ganja’s acceptance of Hess’s condition (and the way she aides him in his survival)... it is this singular connecting thread, however, that eventually pulls the two stories together into a shared journey.

The film soundtrack oscillates between deep soul, Christian-based music and songs that emulate spirituals to great effect, pulling us down into the murky depths of our main characters with each new music cue.  Portraying all of the characters in the film as educated Black men, women and children rather than disadvantaged and impoverished potential victims is a breath of fresh air, and Hess is given the chance to display his humanity even in the wake of his tragedy.  The editing and pacing of the film have a “slice of life” feel that is unique to the “genre” (if you want to label the film as a traditional “horror” or “vampire” film in the first place), which in turn, brings a sort of narrative expansion to the idea of the vampire that seems to have been in itself expanded upon, especially in the modern era of the vampire-loving movie-going public.  The sex scenes and moments of sensuality are handled in possibly the most tasteful, artistic manner I have seen scenes of that nature ever handled.  The cinematography implements a voyeuristic, fly on the wall approach, as flash and flare would distract from the methodical, grounded approach taken by Gunn (although artistic insert shots are occasionally sprinkled throughout).

Duane Jones carries himself in a very dignified manner, partly as if to portray the stereotypical associations that come with a vampire, but also seemingly as a ploy to keep his humanity (and his lofty position as a doctor) front and center, rather than be defined by his tragedy.  Marlene Clark could easily have stepped in as the femme fatale, but she instead opts for a more grounded, well-rounded characterization, warts and all, which humanizes her amongst a world filled with chameleon-like “monsters”.  Bill Gunn is the closest thing to a traditional vampire presentation, letting a charismatic intellectual vibe fuel his brief stint in the film.  Supporting roles by Candece Tarpley, Leonard Jackson, Sam Waymon, Richard Harrow, John Hoffmeister, Betty Barney and Mabel King round out the cast.

For a film that was supposed to be a cash-grab follow-up to Blackula, Ganja & Hess is anything but that.  The film stands as possibly one of the most gorgeous and powerful pieces of art to come out of the Blaxploitation era (though the film in itself is not necessarily a Blaxploitation film), and as mentioned previously, it has seemingly served as at best a direct influence, and at worst, an unknown indirect influence on the entire span of vampire films that followed.  It was also interesting hearing lots of soundtrack moments and little sound snippets that I have heard sampled in endless songs, which I did not expect, but wholly enjoyed.

[royal-writer]

Memories 6

Nnnnn my brain is drumming some dubstep pain over here but I forced myself to finish this terribly.

One day I hope to say in the campaign “My grandpa was a badass bird” becuz of this. A grumpy old fart.

The climb up the rolling hilltops was dreadful. With no direction; no map, no compass, Essätha couldn’t determine the nearest road anymore. When woods turned to valleys, valleys to hills, hills to adjacent, low level mountains that plateaued and rose in increments she could no longer gauge a marker. No way of finding the next town. No way of finding her way out of the wilds that were both a comfort and a wall-less prison.

Only climbing and descending these hills existed. Hoping to see something. The steep incline and decline one after another proved hard on her calf muscles, her thighs, her… everything.

She stopped to rest as she met the ridge of the latest hill. Palms to her knees, sweat on her aching back as she leaned over. Breathing deeply; slowly. She loved the heat, but the sun was close and it was hot with no shade or protection at all. It was becoming overbearing on her dampened mocha skintone now with undertones of sunburned redness.

A loud snapping sound caught her attention.

With a glimpse around the hilltop, she spotted what appeared to be massively feathered wings. They were pulled close against the back of fuzzy tufted creature looming many yards away. Whatever it was, she couldn’t determine. The winged beast was aimed in the opposite direction of her. Swiftly tearing into the remains of a hooved animal hungrily; the creature torn to pieces and long since past expiration.

Another crack. Bones snapping.

Gods it was huge! The feathered beast had to be at least six and a half feet tall. She’d never seen a bird that large. Crouched down, wearing some strange, dark navy wrap around its neck and something covering its torso. Which made no sense to her; who would put that around a bird-

It turned it’s head towards her sharply.

Essätha let out a surprised cry, watching bone fragments and blood drip from it’s face.

The creature screeched in retaliation to her own.

Pivoting in the tall grass seemed a bad idea as soon as she took the act. Essätha suddenly slipped and fell, sprawled out in the stalks of yellow and green.

She pushed herself up nearly as quickly with her palms to look over the grass. Gasping for breath; her still dull, aching body throbbing from the heat and hard hard walk was screaming for her to lay back down. That it was too hot; that she had to be hallucinating.

Nothing. Only the decayed- deer? Goat? Whatever it was-

An ear-splitting squawk echoed from above. The beat of heavy wings against a current-less sky fanning from above. Flapping, flapping, coming faster and faster-

Essätha rolled out of the way as something struck the ground inches from where she’d just been lying.

With aged feathers molting, the bearded vulture rose up from it’s bipedal talons. A daunting height; all of that six-foot prediction and maybe more. Startling bright golden eyes so small for the shape of its head moving over her and cocking in her direction. Colors of white, tan, dark maroon, black and brown; all covering over features and tufts laying out around an enormous curved beak that came to a sharp point.

The humanoid-shaped bird wore a bulky scarf. Large enough that it could be easily be swooped over to drape over the creature’s face for concealment but still leave plenty around the neck that would fall down the back. Only the chest of the feathered bird was covered with clothing; nothing around the legs. It wore a mixture of fashioned animal pelts for warmth as well as sections of armor plating and leather that looked like the fashioning of a half-plate cover.

The bird snapped it’s winged plumage open with a screech. The gesture revealed sections of dappled black and brown underside with white dots just visible along the edge of the wings.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t just some mere bird.

Shouting loudly so her voice cracked, Essie scrambled back from the creature. Her hands digging into the dirt, diving for cover, searching for a stone to throw, something, anything in a whim of shock-

Her digits landed on a quiver.

Tearing her eyes around, she spotted the outline of a bow nearby. It sat neatly on a boulder just a few inches out of reach.

Launching herself out from the tall meadow, Essätha took hold of both. Fingers fumbling for an arrow, trying to hook it on the thread as she stood and turned-

The vulture was no longer there.

The arrow; improperly set against the bow and the line, tilted to the side.

“What do you think you doing?!”

Another yelp, and Essie released the string.

The arrow fell on the ground directly in front of her.

She turned, awe and fear written on her features to stare up at the vulture as it landed with ease on the rocky surface behind her. Massive wings snapped open and closed as it balanced before finally settling in place. Arms crossed; a look of disapproval set in judgmental golden eyes as wings neatly folded against the beast’s backside.

“Ignorant child,” the bird screeched; it’s pitch high with anger but tone suggesting masculinity. ��That’s not proper arrow nock!”

Her mouth dropped open, not with humiliation, but with dumbfounded shock.

The bird-man reached across the space between them to grab hold of the wrapped riser area of the bow. It took him no effort to yank it out of Essie’s numb, loose fingers.

“Y-You’re making fun of how I notch an arrow, and not the fact I was going to shoot you with it?” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest with alarm.

She was talking to a bird. A large, scavenging bird. An intelligent, mocking bird who spoke the common tongue. A bird who was correcting her stance in holding a weapon.

That made a lot of sense.

The vulture opened his mouth as he exhaled sharply. It was the closest thing to a snort Essie could imagine. It caught off guard by by the foul stench from it’s mouth and her gag reflex activated at the smell of death wafting from the creature’s maw.

“You would missed,” the vulture informed her smugly. “If you not nock arrow, you miss.”

“Wait wait wait,” she wheezed, taking a step back to keep from breathing in the reek of rot and avoid any blood from splattering on her. “You can talk? You understand what I’m saying? You know about how to fire a bow?”

Insulted, the bird furled out his wings once more, giving a screech directly into her face as she cringed away from him. The stench of decomposition had her learning backwards, swallowing back the urge to hurl.

“I certainly do, child!” he snapped angrily. “And what of you, nosy terror? You have scales, but you no dragon. I’ve seen them. You do not carry blood of ancestors from mine home.”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Then why is my ability to speak and understand concern of yours?”

Essätha recoiled from the furious glare of the bird-man. Though his face lacked the muscles and facial cues to really look any other way then intimidating.

Satisfied with her silence, the vulture ruffled his feathers so they lay flat once more. Wings neatly tucked, his three digits; one opposable thumb to three fingers really, reaching out to her. They curled, an indication to give the quiver that hung from her arm by the sling.

With her mouth gaping, then closing, she finally connected two and two together. The sling released, and offered out to the bird-man in front of her.

He took it with an irked noise, slinging it over his shoulder.

Tilting her head towards the carcass, Essie spoke quietly: “Is that… your kill?”

“No,” the bird clicked. “A free meal in passing. A missed opportunity not to take it.”

Oh, that made her stomach even queasier.

Cocking his head in curious gestures in return, the bearded scavenger regarded her. His expression showed fascination; a far cry from her anxiety and uncertainty in this strange interaction.

“What is child doing out in the Emercour wilds?”

“I’m no child,” she defended with annoyance.

“You are no Aarakocra, but I am no stupid. Human age are very reliable placed on face,” the bird stated, gesturing to her features. “Your face says youth. A child.”

“Well in my species, I am an adult, and I demand you treat me as such.”

The look the vulture gave her said he seriously doubted she was an adult. Nevertheless, he gave a crowing sound of exasperation and nothing more.

It vexed her, but she really had no room to argue. At a mere twenty-one, she was only just barely cusping adulthood. Not many people looked at her with full respect. Even without bringing up age, just existing as she was made her distrustful to those who knew. And to those that didn’t, well, it all depended on the lie and the willingness of a person to believe said lie.

She picked up on the one interesting word though that the feathered folk stated: “Aarakocra?”

The beady eyes blinked rapidly.

“Yes?” he responded quizzically. “It is mine species. I have traveled here from ways. Some dragons roam free in the mountains and crevices. Rough terrain. People- humans find unfitting. It is where earth meets sky, in the Seaside Mesacliffs. Your speech, not mine. We call it else-names among Aarakocra.”

How intriguing. How confusing. Essätha found his speech pattern easy enough to follow, but they clearly showed some strain. However this bird-man learned common; he was well aware of himself, but didn’t always flow his sentences in the way most natural forms. Stiff and rigid words, blunt and to the point responses.

Seaside Mesacliffs? The name meant nothing to her. She wondered if it was even on the content they resided on, or if it was some other, smaller island.

“What is human doing with not-dragon scales?” the vulture inquired, waving a hand at her.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Fair question. I answered your one. You try also to fire at me.”

“You said yourself, I couldn’t have possibly hit you! I wasn’t holding the bow properly!”

The Aarakocra shrugged. “Fine then. I take it back. Pleasant meetings, girl.”

“I have a name,” she growled angrily, stomping a foot down.

“Girl has a name,” the bird mused, already turning away as his wings snapped out. “So does I. But girl did not ask.”

“Well, what is your name then?”

Was it satisfaction glinting from his eyes? The pull of his beak a bit sharper, like he was trying to smile.

“You call me ‘Kraw’. It is fine”

Essätha shook her head with disbelief. That sounded like the sound birds made. That was no name!

“You just made that up!”

“No!” Kraw insisted angrily. “Made up some time ago! Easier for humans tongue than-”

He let out a screech so terrifying and loud that Essie was forced to slap her hands over her ears to stop the penetrating, ringing cry from busting her eardrums.

“Your real name is lovely,” she rasped, looking up through squinted eyes of pain.

Kraw didn’t seem to acknowledge the sarcasm in her tone. He nodded vigorously. An honorable stance; his head held high and arms pinned to his sides like a solider.

“A girls name?” the bird pressed, intrigued.

Looking to the side and back again, she let out a single, quiet sigh.

“Essätha.”

“A fine name too.”

They stood there. A tense silence, with Essätha reaching up to wipe sweat from her brow.

“Essa’ is hot?” he questioned curiously. “Does not dirt bath?”

“No, I prefer water baths,” she stated with a slight smile. A nice, cool bath would be lovely about now...

Giving a sage nod, the bird-man gave a flick of his digits to her.

“Follow,” Kraw stated gruffly. “I will show you shelter. Mine shelter. Take time out of the heat.”

The Aarakocra took flight. A few flap of his wings, and he was steadily airborne. Flying higher and higher, until he could catch a faint breeze to help him glide as he circled around like, well, like a vulture.

He was clearly waiting for her.

Seeing no better or worse option at the moment, Essätha decided to go with him. Trailing sluggishly on the ground, her steps dragging, as the bearded bird-man lead her down the hill.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It turned out Kraw had created a tipi all by himself on a flat terrain in a valley bridged between grasslands and rockier mountains. There were trees nearby to cast shade for at least half of the day from the position he took root. He claimed there was a small lake nearby, but the route they’d taken had lead anywhere near such a location.

No high winds would likely tunnel and blow down the wood and tarp created structure. It looked stable, and going inside proved cool with the cone funneling out heat.

She learned Kraw was a scholar. He spoke high of his flock; of their schools and principals. They were civilized, culture beings. It marveled her into fascination to listen to his stories. Flying high in the clouds, soaring above the world. Learning how to hunt, to trap, to kill. Teaching the stories of their ancestors; about religion, about the dragons and what they knew of the world outside of the clouds and sun and the land that was their sanctuary.

“But I never settle,” he’d said a bit sadly. “Never. Learned much. Grew old, but never bothered to nest. Only wanted to see the world. So one day left; found myself flying far from home.”

From there, he acknowledged how he’d entered into a prestigious institute. The master’s were so amazed by his eagerness to learn and commitment, even with his knowledge only so-so and with a language barrier, they accepted him. Teaching him the common tongue a challenge. Learning of him as he did them. How there were humans and elves there; some dwarves and dragonborn.

“Even met lizardfolk once,” Kraw stated with awe. “Very pleasant.”

“What kind of things did you learn there?” she asked; more out of politeness than intrigue.

The sun dropped lower and lower into the sky the more he spoke. Explaining his deep interest in history; telling her tales that didn’t always cling to her mind but she nodded nevertheless. He was boisterous and appeared quite happy to share what he knew of the world and people. Things she never would have imagined or placed a bet on. Individuals long since gone from races and places she never dreamed or heard of.

She discovered Kraw was old. Quite old, really.

“I’m pretty sure no vulture lives more than twenty, thirty years maybe,” she remarked with skeptisim.

“Aarakocra are not just bird,” he stated pointedly. “We birdfolk. Birdmen. Our lives meet most humans. Ending in eighties, sometimes later.”

A sixty-eight year old, weathered bird-man, still on a journey of discovery. She was amazed, and a bit envious. He had goals. Priorities. So much to say and mule over as he followed dreams and curiosities to the end of the world and back.

As the cool air of night began to drift in, she nodded tiredly to his stories. Her thoughts drifting; finding it harder and harder to stay awake. She needed… she needed to get moving, yes-

“You is tired,” Kraw stated with alarm, standing suddenly.

Her voice slurred as she responded, “Only a little. S’been an exhausting day walking…”

She came to, her eyes opening and closing only to close again as a blanket was dropped over her shoulders.

“Take rest,” advised the old bird, placing laying layers of furs down beside her. “Tomorrow will be better.”

The phrase struck Essätha as ominous. She shivered, leaning down into the makeshift earthen bed with her hand reaching out. Groping, trying to find her bag. She couldn’t just lay there undefended, what if something happened?

Her eyes slipped closed, a drowsy sigh as she fell asleep.

Shaking his head, Kraw clicked his tongue down to the outstretched girl taking up half of his tipi.

“Just a child,” he grumbled to himself.

A helpless, thin, lost little child.

He could do something about that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Why did I ever agree to this stupid task!”

“Because a girl needs it. Essa’ knows this.”

Her hand trembled. Trying to hold the arrow steady. Pulling it to the anchor point on her chin. Exhaling deeply as the string was pulled tighter and tighter; drawing it further back. Her arm aching to hold it there, her other fingers curled to white knuckles against the rest.

She released.

The arrow only limply dropped a few feet away.

“This is impossible!” she cried, frustrated tears in her eyes.

The bow was yanked from her arm. She only had a moment to gasp, before the wooden edge was thunked upside her head, making her tears fall as she wailed with pain.

“Impatient!” Kraw sneered. “Try again.”

“I don’t want to!” she hiccuped, mouth trembling.

He raised the weapon in the air once more.

“Ssstrike me again, and I’ll end you!” she threatened, iridescent lines etching against her face. “I’ll leave!”

They remained there. Posed in equally threatening stances; a fist in the air to a bow.

“You need this,” he pointed out roughly, this time holding out the bow. “Magic not solve all problems. Death will not always save you.”

His words sent chills down her spine.

She didn’t dare ask if he meant dark magic, or something… more sinister.

With tears still trailing down her cheeks, she reached out to accept the bow once more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Kraw, are you drinking again?”

“Ayyyee no! No stop that! Ye’in can’t take mine! Mine bottle! Foolish girl! This only good thing humans’s make!”

She sighed, raising her hands in the air with submission as the bearded vulture held a dagger threateningly in her direction.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” she countered sadly. “It’s not good for your health; especially someone your age.”

“M’drinkin is fine!”

“Do you drink because you’re lonely?” she asked, a whisper while staring up to the sky with understanding to her own words. “Do you drink because it hurts?”

No answer.

After a moment, eerily somber, the ranger bird-man pushed himself to his feet. His talons scrapping against the dirt mound free of grass around their fire as he shuffled away, into the late twilight darkness.

Her worried, light brown eyes looked from him back to the stars.

She never would get a real answer to that question.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I don’t want to do this-”

“Quick! Longer struggle, the more pain.”

She plunged the dagger into the juggler of the rabbit, watching it twitch once more before falling dead with the thread still knotted around it’s leg where it had been captured by the trap Kraw forced her to set up earlier.

Essätha dropped the blade, and placed her bloody hands over her face as she wept.

“I hate you!” she sobbed. “I told you I didn’t want to do this-”

A hand gripped her shoulder. Pulling her, until she rested against Kraw’s side. Her fist coming up, weakly striking his armor plating as she cried. Ugly, blubbering tears falling down her face, snot running down her face.

“A girl learns well,” he soothed, ignoring her attempts to physically harm him to stroke her shoulder. “Essa’ grows stronger. You hurt, but now have substance.”

“I could have done it another way!”

“Sometimes, better to see eyes. Payment. A life ends, a life continues. Not everyone lives, Essätha-child. You can not make all live. You must survive.”

“Why do I have magic if I can’t use it! Why can’t I-”

The arm around her shoulder slipped to her back. Pulling her closer, hugging her with one arm against the thick armor and fuzz of soft but dirty feathers to her face.

“Trust. You will need this some day.”

Everything he said was always so cryptic and threatening. It didn’t help her feel better; it didn’t stop her from sobbing against his chest like a pathetic, weak child as he called her. As she was. Spineless and afraid.

She hated that he made her skin that poor thing.

She hated that he forced her to eat it.

She hated him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A shriek awoke her from her sunbathing nap. Uncoiling from the folds of her serpentine frame, Essätha let out a hiss as talons came down upon her.

Nails hooked painfully into her side, drawing blood.

“Kraw!” she screamed, agonizing pain rippling through her as she reached out to grab his leg.

The vulture didn’t seem to hear her. Squawking, he tried to lift her from the ground.

Hissing, her hood folding open fully, she struck out at his leg.

He cried out, releasing her and amazingly, dropping her to the ground a good two feet.

The old man tried to flap his wings to go higher, but fell in a crumpled heap on the ground instead.

Wincing, Essätha placed a hand to her bloody side as she slithered over, tongue darting in and out sadly.

“You’re drunk again, aren’t you?”

A crooked beaked smile; or attempt to one, was offered up at her.

“Large snake! Sounds just like Essätha.”

“You know it’sss me, Essätha, Kraw. We’ve been over this. You sssaid how it makes us closer being more animal like, but alssso mortal enemies becaussse of our species.”

Lolling his head from side to side, Kraw sighed. His eyes closing, a tired groan escaping him.

She waited for a response, but all she got was snoring.

Relenting a sigh, Essie reached down to half pick up half drag the old fellow back to the tipi. He needed rest and water to recover from the hangover he was sure to have.

Oh, and food. This wasn’t the first time he mistook her for a snack in his drunken stupor. Better make sure he was fed so it wouldn’t happen again. Hopefully.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The arrow shot true, taking the deer down in a single, well placed hit.

Essätha smiled to herself. A bit of her fangs peering out as she turned her head, looking up to the sky as the beating of heavy wings caught up to her.

Kraw lowered himself down beside her. The impression of a grin on his face, his clawed fingers resting against her shoulder.

His eyes glimmered. A deep well of pride and satisfaction. Giving her a nod of approval, and a gesturing tilt of her head for her to go collect her trophy.

She bounded along the small treeline, still grinning to herself.

She no longer hated archery.

She no longer despised Kraw.

Patience. All she needed was a little patience, time, and the willingness to learn.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“How does one keep fire during rain?”

“Avoid digging a pit for your fire so rainwater doesn’t collect and put it out; keep your wood dry and peel off damp bark before use. Pine and needles are better for kindling and to keep a flame as the sap is highly flammable. Keep your fire tight; the looser your build, the more susceptible to it burning out.”

“How best find water?”

“Listen for water. Search for plants known to live close to water. Keep an eye out for bees and birds; especially finches, as they crowd water sources. Listen for frogs, as they live and breed near water sources.”

“Good examples,” Kraw praised, reaching out to pat her head.

Essätha beamed from ear to ear.

“Always remember Essa’; knowledge is power. We learn, we store information. Keep safe in your head. Learn every day. Grow.”

She nodded her head slowly in response, drinking in the older gentlebird’s words. There was no guarantee she’d be the wisest, or the most intelligent, or even spend time to search out the answer to all the history and questions in the world. She wasn’t like Kraw. Those things didn’t appeal to her.

But she understood that the comprehension of the world and all that dwelled in it to some degree was a power all it’s own. And like any fine-tuned weapon she owned or trained, that too would be something she would need to feed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She was no match for him.

His fist knocked the wind out of her. She moved to counter-strike, but he was already pivoting away from her to avoid the blow.

Another jab. Not quite as forceful this time. He was regretting hurting her by mistake now and was just pitying her with these weak blows.

Essätha snapped her leg up and missed entirely as Kraw took to flight.

“That’s no fair!” she panted, wavering on her feet.

“I know!” he cawed with laughter. “Not all enemies fight fair!”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. Reaching down to her belt, she brandished a dagger as Kraw landed. That big, feathery asshole looking proud of himself. Adjusting his armor, fixing the posture of his wings so they laid perfectly to his back-

She flung her knife.

Kraw’s shoulders jerked up. His head turning, looking slowly to the blade wobbling in the trunk of the tree beside his head.

“You was aiming for tree, right?!” he screeched, rounding on her with wide eyes. “Yes?!”

A devious smirk played out against her face.

“Let’s just say, if I had wanted that blade in your head, it would have landed.”

The look of horror on his face turned to delight and pride.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She gave a whistle, waving her arm out in the air as the rider circled her. Their steed giving unpleasant snorts as they approached, almost as though it sensed something inside of her. A danger; a coiled snake ready to spring.

Fixing the sling of her bag, Essätha offered a polite smile to the young man traveling the road. His eyes curious, boring into her.

“Hello~” she sang, offering a gentle smile. “You wouldn’t mind helping a lady out with a ride, would ya?”

He looked her up and down, swallowing. A distinct look of wanting in his gaze.

“A’ight.”

It took the horse more convincing than the man to give her a ride, but he managed to put her things in one of the large saddle bags. Her hands around his waist mischievously, hearing him breathing almost as loud as the racehorse as hooves ate up the distance quickly down the flattened earthen road. The wind blowing in her hair, the freedom, her eyes wild and grin crazy. Filled with adrenaline; fueled with excitement.

She turned her head back once. A bit unsure, a bit apologetic. Looking off in the faded hills that jutted out behind her and faded more and more behind trees and distance.

He would be okay. She had everything she needed with her right now, and a whole new range of talents to put to use out there.

After all, she was Essätha. Never one to settle.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

His territory was empty. Looking high nor low proved any visuals of his Essätha-child.

In his sorrows, Kraw drank alone that night. Angry, hurt, vexed.

He had not been done teaching her.

What would the world do to that poor, broken, fragile child?

With a shudder, he continued on drinking until he passed out by the faded embers of his fire.

[words-by-andy]

Noah would tear Lucia's heart open on April 4th, 2016 at 6:32pm.

This was only two hours after the couple had fantasized about future children on a walk through the harbor, and 47 minutes after Noah had mentioned how nice a road trip through the Pacific Northwest would be. Neither of them saw it coming, and both were just as surprised when the words came out.

Sitting on the docks overseeing the evening set, Noah could only recall staring at the forfeiting sun collapsing on itself, as it had every day in the past. He imagined the burdens of the sun: that infinite cycle of falling into exhaustion after being forced to rise each day, all to sustain life for something so doomed. He felt a deep, complicated empathy.

Lucia, who was well into a perceived conversation at this point, took his silence as a cue to continue her thoughts. She felt comfortable in his stillness and had begun exploring topics she had once shuttered to ever expose. As she spoke, she too, stared at the evening horizon and saw the sun gracefully relinquish into the calm waters, like her walls had before her. She felt connected and open, as she imagined, love should be. Noah, however, only heard bits and pieces of her words. His existential crisis, combined with the muffled sounds that he presumed as gossip, now wore unbearable.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore," he blurted out.

It took 2.3 seconds for Noah to finish saying the words, one full minute to realize what he had even said and an untold 86 hours to realize the repercussions of his actions. As for Lucia, she felt the befuddled numbness by the end of the sentence. Her engaged presence now muted into a petrified stare, cold eyes searching for quick answers in places that used to be warm. The sun was gone now.

It wasn’t the vanished talk of children or plans of adventure that had caused Lucia to coil into shock; on the contrary, she understood these sweet nothings as simple treats for the imagination, even after Noah had swiftly lacerated each word like machete to sugar cane. This isn't what phased her now. What now had Lucia in shambles wasn't anything present.

All Lucia could picture now was the view from Noah's passenger seat. The perforated cigarette burns, the crunched water bottles, the lightly foul odor that neither cared to question. She could see Noah's profile in the driver’s seat, the same she had been admiring earlier, with eyes always attending more onto the next song than the road. She recalled how odd she had felt being so comfortable in such a death trap.

Then, staring two years, three months, and nine days back into the same seat, Luciaremembered the first time she fell in love, and how similar the shock had been.  

She recalled the rain, the coldness of the air and how deserted the streets had felt that night, how their families had both been away for Christmas, and how they thought it fitting to just spend the holiday lonely together. Parked along a dimly-lit street in the passenger seat, she remembered sipping cheap beer out of tall cans, both listening and speaking freely amongst each other, almost as if it were for the first time. She remembered the conversations. The guilty music pleasures (Lucia's purchased every Disney album since 1996), the dream aspirations (Noah wanted to be a world traveler), the things they familiarly hated (Tom Cruise and wet socks). She remembered laughing -- at their jokes, at his shamelessness, at her vulnerability, she remembered laughing at everything. And like the puddles that surrounded them, their conversations grew deeper and reflected wider through the night's rain.

Music, of course, only served to catalyze the memories. Putting on Face Candy's "Pillow Bite," Noah recalled stories of walking endlessly to the song in middle school, of always pretending he had somewhere to be in order to save himself the embarrassment of standing alone. He disclosed these memories with the initial delivery of a punchline, yet the more he spoke the more both realized laughing was no longer necessary. Their voices fell calmer, syllables growing in heaviness. As he continued, Noah spoke of that constant feeling of inadequacy and how permanent emotions felt in a time when there was no one to tell you it would be okay.  

"...We're bruising our inside of the teeth biting on the same thing," Listening in, Noahcould hear his favorite part of the song coming on. Quickly ending his thought, he turned up the volume to let Lucia hear:

"But I'm here: to rip your jaws open even when they're clinched tight,

I'm here, I'm here to shed tears, I'm here to stay up all night, I'm here."

"Those were the lyrics that saved my life," Noah said, before releasing a chuckle to ease the tension in the air. He smiled at her, she smiled at him. Lucia remembered the nudity in his voice.

In return, she played "Jesus Christ" by Brand New. It was a song she felt connected to; it was also the song she was found in a bathtub in, 253 days prior, laying face up in a body of increasingly pink waters. The pluck of the slow guitar strings reminded her of the leaking faucet drops, how she stared at them wondering which one of the two would cease first. She could feel that same pain now. Nervously twiddling her fingers to the tune, she let the song play with the cautiousness of an open diary:

"Do you believe you're missin' out?

That everything good is happening somewhere else?

But with nobody in your bed,

The night's hard to get through."

As the song played, Lucia began to speak about her own familiar trials with loneliness and isolation. She quietly recalled of the time she hid from her mother when she was five, stuffing herself in the corners of the backyard shed -- not to protect herself, she pointed out, but to feel her mother's embrace when she would realize Lucia was missing and finally find her. Lucia, voice now cracking under desperate attempts at a clear throat, revealed:

"I ended up waiting in the shed for two days."

It was actually 38 hours -- 38 long hours before she eventually gave in. That exhausted Monday morning sun was enough for anyone to call it quits. The hunger and boredom, she recalled, didn't measure to how cold she had felt those nights.

The silence of that shed, her naked body in the tub; they all felt strikingly familiar now. She was scared and open. There was a special fear in diving head first into her harshest memories, a fear of not being entirely sure how deep the pain actually went. Noticing her own free-fall as the story ended, Lucia gazed down to catch herself. Instead, she saw Noah's open palm waiting on her lap.

She could feel it. She was unsure of what it was, but she felt it. Lucia hadn't imagined love being like this. She had imagined love as overpowering; she imagined love as numbingly excessive; she imagined her heart oozing warm putrid emotions through every scarred vein in her flesh, filling each void she had ever had. Instead, this was different. Now, she could only feel the carving bareness of her soul.

It was growing, and Lucia could feel her transparency permeate. Starting from the tingle in her fingertips down to the goosebumps in her arms, she watched her hands slowly vanish, and felt the sensation creep towards her chest. The more they spoke, the more the invisibility swept, and soon enough, her whole body had been taken by the feeling. She knew by now she had become completely dematerialized. His eyes still watching her almost like the only pair in the world that could. She looked up at him with tears resting in place:

"You know," Lucia spoke, "I've never told anyone about that."

Her voice cracked again, yet she let the last quiver sustain like a perfect note. Noahsmiled as he reached for his keys. The sun was rising now.

How beautiful, they both thought.