#and woven into a bucket to carry more oil

[leavesfromthemind]

yes, religion is important. yes, historical context is deeply important. yes to all of the disclaimers that are required to have opinions. please let everything melt away and think with me.

what would you pray, hope, wish, manifest, do anything, for your great great great great²⁰ grandchild to do ? what would Your great²³ grandchild want You to do? as mahmoud darwish said, if the hands that saw the olive tree planted saw who reaps the fruit now, they would weep.

let all time melt like sand, like sand does. tell me, what do you want? justice? mercy? mercy for who? mercy for what? mercy when and where? what does mercy mean? think. just think, you'll be fine as long as everybody else has the heart to think too.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So i just worked my ass off and retail is always crummy this time of year so I’m gonna escape with some sweet Arvin Russell writing. 

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The spring air was warm as the breeze swept over the low fence and fluttered the tails of shirts hung across the line. You grabbed two pegs and a swathe of damp fabric and stretched it over the cord, pinning it in place before moving along. Your old machine had taken much of the day to wrangle and had even received a kick. It was decades old, an heirloom inherited with the old country house and much more clunky than the modern machines. Not many in the county had anything more than the old wringing machines.

Roy would be home soon. Your husband hated to hear about how the wringer jammed so easily and the fear that your fingers might again be bruised by the mechanism. Even so, you were certain it wouldn't last for much longer. It's rattles foretold its imminent fate. You'd be back to a bucket and board soon enough.

As you hung the last piece, Roy's oil stained overalls, you heard the putter of the truck. You picked up the woven basket and headed for the gate along the front of the house. You waved as he pulled up, tires loudly mulching the dirt, and you stopped short as he came to a jagged halt. He wasn't alone and you were stillwearing your grimy and wet apron.

Roy pushed his door open so roughly it creaked. He stepped out and gave an exaggerated stretch as he glanced across the roof of the truck and slammed the door.

"Don't forget your bag, boy," he growled at the other man as he felt around the chest pocket of his overall for his smokes. "Looks like you're too late for laundry day."

"Roy?" You unclasped the gate and opened it as Roy stomped across the gravel and lit up a smoke, "How was your day?" 

You peeked over at the other man who climbed out of the truck. He wore similar overall, though they were unbuttoned over a greasy white shirt, and he was shorter and thinner than your husband. He reached back into the truck and grabbed a long military style duffel before he swung the door shut. 

Your husband grumbled and blew out a mouthful of smoke.

"We have a guest?" You asked as you stayed by the gate.

"Arvin Russell," Roy flicked the ash away, "You remember I was talkin' 'bout renting out the attic."

"Um, yes," you blinked as the other man, Arvin, neared meekly. Roy had mentioned the idea once when he noticed the way his truck had started rumbling.  "It'll need a good dusting."

"So you better get on that." Roy coughed. "What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf," you answered and turned back to smile at the other man as he bowed his head and passed through the gate.

"Hello, missus," he said kindly, "Nice to meet ya. I work with your husband, says you're a fine cook."

"The one thing she can do," Roy muttered as he ambled up the steps of the porch and dropped onto the bench sat by the window. "You go grab us some bottles."

You closed the gate behind Arvin but he waited for you to precede him before going any further. He was surprisingly polite for any man who worked at the shop. 

"Yes, Roy," you hid your disappointment. Those nights when Roy started drinking before dinner rarely ended well.

"Can I just have some water?" Arvin asked as he followed you onto the porch, "Please. I didn't get to my lunch today so I'm not really feeling like drinking."

"Of course," you said, "If you're hungry, I got a box of crackers and some cheese I can bring out."

"Thank you but I'd hate to spoil dinner." Arvin sat on the end of the bench and kept his bag between his feet as Roy threw away his cigarette. "Thank you both for having me."

You nodded and quickly skirted inside. You were a bit confounded by Roy's sudden burst of generosity. He rarely did anything for anyone else. To think he'd offer a room to a coworker was unlike him.

You went to the old fridge, marked with dings and dents, and wiggled the handle until it opened. You remember the day you Pa had broken the handle, he'd always promised to fix it but had only managed to make it worse. You missed him. It was easy to miss him in this old place. His wedding present to you and Roy. It was too tragic he hadn't lived long enough to see you enjoy it.

You grabbed a brown bottle then filled a tall glass from the tap. You went back to the door and opened it with your elbow. You handed Roy his beer as Arvin stood to accept his glass of water.

"Thank you," he chimed but your husband only popped the cap of his beer with his teeth and glared out at the yard.

"Well dinner is in the oven still. I'll just be finishing that before I get started in the attic." You told Roy but he only shrugged and gulped down the beer. "Let me know if you boys need anything." 

"Peace and quiet," Roy snarled. "S'all I need right now."

Arvin gave a sympathetic look and traced his thumb along the side of the glass. You hid your discomfort and retreated inside. That was just Roy. He was always in a mood after work. An hour or two and he would mellow out. The beer would surely help.

🚬

When you finished supper, you called the men in to eat. Roy started his second beer as Arvin remained quiet and awkward at the table. You didn’t say much as you pondered the work still left to be done. You had to tidy the attic before the night ended and collect the laundry from the line. You would also have to clear the table and clean up the mess of your cooking.

You stood before the men finished. You scraped your untouched scraps into the dish of leftovers and placed the glass lid on it. You scoured the loaf pan as you listened to the clink of cutlery on plates and set the pots on the drying rack. You returned to the men to gather their empty dishes and Arvin thank you as Roy belched and stood with a satisfied but gruff rumble.

Arvin watched you as you tried to ignore the pity in his face. You knew your husband wasn’t the most loving or vocal, but he was yours and he worked hard. You turned away and went back to the kitchen. You finished washing the last of the glassware and dried it before stacking it in the cupboards.

As you passed through the dining room, Arvin was gone and you could hear the buzz of the radio from the front room. Roy always liked to listen to the game after he ate. Sometimes you sat with him and crocheted or read but not often.

You tiptoed upstairs and found the footstool hidden in the bottom of the linen closet. You climbed onto the step and reached up to unhook the cord of the attic door. It dangled down and you pulled it carefully as you backed off the stool and kicked it away. The steps unfolded and you barely stepped out of the way of their descent as the heavy wood thumped against the carpet.

It had been a while since you ventured up to the third floor. There was only dust and forgotten memories up there. You slowly made your way up and sneezed as you reached the top. A wall of boxes blocked the window along the front of the house and shrouded furniture sat beneath grimy sheets.

You started with the boxes. You took one and peeked under the flaps. Some old oil lamps hoarded by your father from his own parents. You awkwardly made your way back down to the second floor and placed the box at the bottom. When you had them all down, you’d take them into your father’s old room to store. Perhaps you should sort through them at last and get rid of the unneeded artifacts.

You were six boxes deep when you were startled by a shadow in the open hatch. You exclaimed and nearly dropped your armful as Arvin poked his head through and peered over at you.

“Arvin,” you gasped. “My apologies, this place is a mess.”

“Not so bad,” he climbed up and stood, “You need some help?”

“Don’t be silly, I can manage--”

“You’re right. It’s a mess,” he insisted, “A lot for just one person.”

You stared at him and gave a small smile. He was funny. He neared you and reached out for the box in your arms.

“How about this, I’ll stay on the ladder and you bring the boxes to me and I’ll take ‘em down.” He took the box gently from you, “It’ll be much quicker.”

You looked into his soft brown eyes and let him. He backed away and cautiously made his way down the ladder. You turned and grabbed another box and he reappeared through the hatch. You handed him the box of figurines and he retreated once more. You carried on and soon, the boxes were stacked high on the lower floor.

“Alright,” Arvin climbed up and dusted off his hands, “Already lookin’ better.”

He neared the old sofa against the wall and pulled off the sheet. He coughed as the dust was kicked up and it soon turned into a chuck as he waved away the cloud.

“We can keep this here,” he draped the sheet over his arm and pulled the next from the tall lamp with the glass shade, “Move this into the corner,” he continued on and peeked under a sheet before unveiling the tall shelf, “If you don’t mind, of course?”

“Not at all. We should’ve sold all this years ago.” You teetered on your heels anxiously. Every piece reminded you of your father. “There’s a cot folded up over there,” you pointed behind a hidden end table, “But that wouldn’t be much better than the floor.”

“It’ll do,” he assured you and turned to sit on the sofa. He bounced as he hugged the sheets. “This isn’t too bad.”

“Well, there’s a bed down in my pa’s room. We could try to bring it up tomorrow. If you don’t mind offerin’ a little more help.” You wrung your hands. You were never very good with strangers and Roy’s friends often weren’t much nicer than him. You were tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think I could do that,” he stood and wiggled his nose as a sneeze threatened. “You got a broom? Maybe a duster?”

“You’ve done enough, I can finish it--”

“Ma’am, I’m a guest in your home. I might be paying for the room but it doesn’t make you my maid,” he intoned, “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since before my momma died.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry,” you uttered. “I--”

“Now, don’t be sorry,” he cooed, “Nothing to be sorry for. I assume you lost your daddy if his bed is free.” 

You nodded dumbly and blinked.

“Well, at least let me take these,” you reached for the sheets and he hesitated before he let you take them. You struggled to keep them balled up and hugged them against your hip as you turned back to the hatch. “I’ll bring you the broom.”

“Thank you,” he said behind you and you looked back at him as you took your first step down the ladder, “You let me know when you bring that washin’ in and I’ll help you fold.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to. Makes me feel a little better about stealin’ your attic,” he assured you.

You looked down and slowly descended. As your feet met the carpet, you sighed and looked around at the boxes. You couldn’t remember a time Roy had ever offered to help with anything. If it wasn’t to do with his truck, he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.

🚬

You were completely drained by the time you retired to your bedroom. You were still on edge, your exhaustion laced with anxiety as you unbuttoned your blouse. You sat on the side of the bed as you slowly undressed. It was still absurd to you that another person, barely more than a stranger, was living in your home. In your father’s house.

It changed your whole routine. You couldn’t help but go over it in your mind. That meant three plates, not two, for every meal, that meant the laundry basket would fill up quicker, than meant the shoes tracks in the front entrance would need to be mopped up more often. That mean you had to act like your marriage was truly happy.

You pulled on your night gown, the short sleeves tickled your upper arms as you dropped your clothes in the wicker basket on your chest of drawers. A framed photo of your parents’ wedding day sat beside it and on the shelf beside the door, was your own wedding portrait.

Three years wasn’t so long but it felt an eternity. You couldn’t quite recall when Roy had changed. When the beer had started to taint his kisses and his words. When all pretense fell away and only the man remained. The brutish country boy with the churlish demeanour.

Maybe the first day of your marriage. Maybe. You were so nervous on your wedding night that it angered him. You’d mend your dress one day, hopefully when you had a daughter of your own so you had something to promise her. 

Or maybe a week after the wedding, when you broke the vase gifted to you upon your nuptials and it shattered across the floor. Roy’s booming voice and his boulder-like fists.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, a month in when the world went black with his hand on your throat and you awoke alone on the kitchen floor.

Maybe a year when your finger was dislocated by a slammed door. Maybe the next year when you couldn’t sit for the pain in your hips. Maybe the one after when he’d grown impatient for a child only to find your sheets soaked in blood. 

Maybe it had always been there, from the first date, but you’d simply refused to accept it. Not you. Not Roy. You loved him and he loved you, didn’t he?

The door slammed and shook you from your sombre recollections. You looked up as Roy stumbled in. He snickered darkly as your eyes met his and his legs wobbled beneath him drunkenly.

You slid off the bed and turned to plant your elbows on the mattress. A prayer before bed, as your grandmother had taught you. Another sarcastic chuckle aimed in your direction as Roy’s stained white tee missed the basket.

“On your knees for me already,” he sat beside your elbow as he unbuckled his belt.

You couldn’t focus on your inner recitation. You could smell the alcohol on him, the stench of oil and his sweat. You clutched your hands together and cleared your throat.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You asked calmly.

He frowned and stood to shove his pants past his knees. He kicked the jeans away and fell heavily back to the bed.

“Call you?” He sneered.

“To let me know about our guest?” You wondered innocently. “I could’ve readied for him better.”

“Workin’,” he growled. “I don’t got time to be callin’ you with my head under an engine. Fuckin’ Christ.”

“There isn’t a bed in the attic.” You said.

“So. Arv’s small enough. I’ve seen him sleep on a stool.” Roy spat. 

You hid your chagrin behind your hands as you pressed them to your lips.

“Why’d you bring him?”

Roy’s nostrils flared and a fist formed atop his hairy thigh. “I gotta explain to you?” He snapped. “He paid me outright and he been sleepin’ at the motel since he started.”

“Mr. Dace has a room--”

“Mr. Dace lives twice as far as we do. I did the kid a favour. He saved my ass his first day.” Roy stomped his foot. “Woulda burned down the whole garage if he hadn’t caught that leak.”

“Kid? He that young?”

“Couple years younger than you, I s’pose, maybe less,” Roy rubbed his cheeks and shook his head, “What’s it matter to you?”

“Curious,” you said quietly and closed your eyes as you rested your chin on your knuckles.

Roy was quiet. He let out a long, thick breath and the bed jolted beneath your arms.

“You finished bleeding?” He asked gruffly. 

“I’m praying, Roy,” you insisted.

“How long’s it take you? I’m sure God’s heard it all before.”

“Don’t talk like that, R--”

You squeaked as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched your arms away. He rose and lifted you with him. Always a strong man, he moved you like a puppet to his will. He took your other wrist and pulled you against him.

“You know, I don’t even care if you’re bleeding.” He turned you and shoved you onto the bed. You cried out as you bounced so hard you bit your tongue.

“Roy, please, I’m tired,” you stared up at him fearfully as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. You could taste blood.

“You’re my wife. You do your duty.” He pushed his underwear down as his cock twitched. “You got energy to wash all them clothes, you can lay on your back for your husband.”

“Roy--”

“Shut up!” He shouted. “We got company. I don’t need ya keepin’ him up with your whining.”

You closed your eyes as he fell onto you. He crushed you beneath him as he tugged your skirt up harshly. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and you braced yourself for his painful intrusion. Even so long into the marriage, you had never grown used to his touch.

He retracted his hand and began to touch himself. He stroked his cock as he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. Come on.” He moved his hand quicker and rubbed his soft tip against your folds. “Open up.” 

He forced his dick against your entrance and tried to push inside. He was still half-flaccid and struggled to get further than an inch. You balled your hands and sank your head into the mattress as he thrust. He fell out of you, softer than before.

You opened your eyes sat up on his knees and looked down at his limp dick. He gritted his teeth as you watched him.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he punched your stomach as hard as he could and you wheezed as you folded in on yourself. “Can’t even keep me hard.”

“Roy--” You hissed. “I’m s--”

“One more word and you’ll be real sorry.” He pushed himself from between your legs, making certain to pinch you as he did.

He stood and turned. You barely moved out of the way before he sprawled over his side of the mattress. You held your stomach, a painful pressure lodge there, and rolled to the edge of the bed. You reached over and pulled the chain on the lamp. 

As you laid back, Roy caught the back of your neck and kept you in a painful limbo.

“On the floor,” he jarred your neck as he tried to throw you off the bed. “Like the dog you are.”

You slid off the side and landed sharply on your knees. You stifled a shameful sob and lowered yourself down onto your side. You bent your knees and cushioned your head on one arm. You stared into the void beneath the bed as the frame groaned beneath Roy’s heavy body.

“Goddamn bitch,” he uttered groggily. “Fuckin’--”

His words turned to snores as he finally drowned in his bellyful of beer. You listened to his jagged, drunken breaths as you shivered on the cold wood. You closed your eyes and recalled the first night you’d slept on the floor. You’d been in much poorer shape and it had been the dead of winter.

At least, you didn’t have to sleep next to him.

[snidgetwidgeon]

My excitement rivalled Impa’s here when @jabberwockyface brought this scene from my story to life. It is a true delight and I adored the addition of the cuccos!

I have been working on my longfic for quite some time now and was only intending to publish when complete, but this art has me so pumped I thought I’d drop a ‘trailer’ XD

Please enjoy Chapter 1 of Insurrection, a ZeLink story set mainly after the fall of Calamity Ganon

The Horizon

Impa woke early and sighed as she looked up at the large wooden beams in the ceiling of her house. One of the small, lidded lanterns hanging there, usually alight with a soft, golden glow, had gone out during the night. No matter, she thought. An oil refill would just be one of the mundanities to be dealt with over the course of the day. She had always been an early riser, though for the past two decades or so, her aged bladder was demanding she be up at sparrow’s fart to cater to its whims.

She was nestled atop her three red pillows which were stacked like a pyramid. This was where she liked to stay these days, meditating and even sleeping. Her granddaughter, Paya, had long since had the upstairs bedroom to herself.

Rising to stand atop her pillow tower, with quite a few bodily creaks and vocal sound effects, Impa hopped down. She gently removed her large round hat and placed it in the vacated spot, then saw to her ablutions before a morning walk. She poodled around the ground floor of the spacious living quarters, which also doubled as the town hall. Having the largest house in the village was one of the perks of being the Elder. Her seating platform was centrally located toward the rear of the room and looked out across a spacious, open floor plan. Dark blue mats decorated with a diamond pattern sat neatly aligned in rows and served as a comfortable place to sit when village meetings or festive gatherings took place. Her pillow tower looked straight down an aisle, lined with a blue rug, toward large double doors that led outside to the veranda.

Set in a free standing wooden frame behind her perch was a canvas tapestry. Its earthy color palette and tribal art style depicted a very specific history of the Kingdom of Hyrule. There was a large monster embroidered in the center, and it was flanked by what seemed to be a divine person on the left, and a warrior on the right. There were hundreds of machines surrounding them and in each corner were strange animals ridden by pilots of varying races. Due to the nature of the design, it was unclear if they depicted any of the races residing in Hyrule today.

The platform was flanked by two staircases which rose to the back of the house and then turned on ninety degree angles to meet in the middle at the top. To the right and left of her platform on the outside of the stairs were four posts topped with frog guardian statuettes. They bore the red Sheikah symbol on their bellies, an open eye drawn in a minimalist style with a central tear. Various banners and lanterns hung from the rafters, and low shelves lined the walls. Like the other dwellings in Kakariko Village, furnishings and household items were sparse as most Sheikah lived a simple and humble life, free from clutter.

Impa regarded her wide and wrinkly face in the water basin that sat on one of the low shelves. The reflection reminded her of how much time had passed. She splashed the sleep out of her eyes and made her way upstairs to check on Paya, as she did every morning. She favored going up the right staircase, so she could come down the left in a satisfying circle.

Reaching the second floor, she went over to the bed against the back right corner to look upon her sleeping granddaughter. The young woman usually slumbered well into mid-morning as she tended to pray until very late at night. Impa pressed her forehead against Paya’s and their matching, but different colored Sheikah eye tattoos touched. Though she hadn’t meant to cause a stir, Paya yawned and whispered, “Grandmother?”

“Shhh, it’s still very early, dear,” Impa cooed. “Go back to sleep.” She wanted to tell Paya that she stays up much too late praying outside to the village guardians. But she knew the young woman was doing her best to help bring success to their courageous Hero. He needs all the help he can get, she thought earnestly.

Satisfied that all was well with Paya, she headed back down and paused to view the large painting which hung above the low shelves on that side of the house.

The verdant marsh it depicted was spotted with just a few trees and a grey range of hills in the backdrop, topped by fluffy clouds in a blue sky. Toward the rear of the landscape, to the left and right of the center of the canvas, were two weathered stone ruins indicating that this area had not always been a marsh. Spread out in the foreground were some strange looking, bell shaped machines. The one closest to the viewer on the left side of the frame had a single eye-like protrusion in the middle of its bucket-shaped head.

They were all partially sunken into the marsh, becoming overgrown by time. The furthest one had a single, tentacle-like limb sticking out from its wide base, as if it had once been going in that direction. Overall, they seemed oddly out of place- yet also part of the greater scenery. Impa sighed and wondered, like so many times she had sighed in this spot before, if that fateful marsh would ever again reclaim being just a beautiful field.

Time to get moving before breakfast, she decided as she headed for the front door. She had just started to open it before realizing she had forgotten her hat. She tut-tutted herself as she headed back to claim it. One had to look proper if going outside. Her large, straw hat had a very wide and circular red brim which swooped up into a tall metal ornament that brought it to a point. The Sheikah symbol was prominently featured in red on the front. It also had five chains hanging from the brim with axe blade-esque ornaments that swayed metronomically as she walked. Placing her beloved hat on her head, she headed outside.

She was greeted by a bright, blue summer sky and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the golden glow of sunlight spilling over the valley walls. She never tired of this tranquil vista. Tall, steep mountains with weathered, rounded peaks flanked her view to the right. These were aptly named the Pillars of Levia. She followed a flock of ducks with her gaze as they flew over the mountain vale in a perfect v-formation. They passed a lone peak on the left which towered above the forest on the hill behind the village. This small mount had a more flattened mesa at its peak rather than a weathered mound like the others. Another group of birds she couldn’t make out through the bright sunlight swirled around the top.

As she descended her long front steps, she felt content, taking in the sounds and smells of her home. The breeze which blew through the valley from the west carried with it the scent of the grassy slopes and the wooden chimes that were suspended from ropes between posts all around the village, were gently teased into their soft rattle by it. The cuccos added their crow to the morning chorus.

At the base of the steps was a wooden-framed, open gate. She tilted her head slightly to the side so that as she passed under, the ornament of her impressive hat could avoid catching on the three banners hanging there. On either side of the gate were some young plum trees. The lovely white blossoms they produced in spring were something she looked forward to seeing every year. These plum trees, as well as the others scattered around the village, acted as the residents’ protectors, just like the frog statuettes. They also symbolized endurance and prosperity, two values which Impa had instilled in her people for the better part of a century.

She nodded to the guard who kept the late night and early morning watch at her gate. He was adorned in standard Sheikah attire, a pair of beige trousers and a tunic with a high back collar and red trim. A dark blue undershirt could be seen that matched the blue diamond-shaped pattern on his straw hat. His hat was much different than Impa’s in that it appeared to be a woven disc of straw that he folded over his head and strapped under his chin. It also sat prominently forward to allow for his high, white bun to stick out at the back of his head. Some red chopsticks poked stylishly out of the side of his big bun.

Cado returned the nod with a short and respectful bow. “Lady Impa.” He waited for the Village Elder to take several paces before retrieving his quiver from against the gate and followed at a polite, but observant distance. Though her residence was always guarded, he felt he should be extra vigilant about her safety when she ventured out, especially since there had been an unexplained theft not too long ago.

He checked over his gear as he followed Impa through the canyon pass that led north out of the village. On his back he carried a darkwood Phrenic Bow, good for long distance accuracy. On his waist was sheathed an Eightfold Blade, the traditional, single-edged sword of the Sheikah people, and one of the remaining vestiges of their ancient technology. Etched at the blade’s base was the tell-tale eye symbol, believed to offer the user an extra layer of spiritual protection.

Impa walked along at a slow but comfortable pace, enjoying the sound of the breeze whistling through the canyon walls. As she approached a large open gate, one of three marking the entrances to the village, she paused at the sound of a rustle. She looked back at Cado who had drawn nearer, with one hand reaching for the handle of his blade, ready to react to the disturbance.. She merely smiled and shook her head. After taking another step, a lizard dashed out of a tuft of grass and made its escape up the canyon wall.

The north canyon did not lead out of the village as such. After about a ten minute walk, the narrow walls fanned open to a natural platform which offered a scenic, if slightly restricted, view of Hyrule due to the high cliffs on either side. The serenity of this place and the breathtaking view overlooking Hyrule had inspired the community to recognize it as a sacred site. Here they paid their respects at the graves of their loved ones. Unlike Hylian graves, which tended to spread out over an area, the Sheikah piled narrow, upright stones on the left side of the clearing. They were placed without any inclination to create neat rows, and their jumbledness added a certain charm. The only markings were caused by the passage of time, demonstrated by how weathered and overgrown with moss they were.

To the right was a single, large tree, its shade offering a welcome respite to those who visited during the hottest hours of a summer day. Just past the tree stood a simple wooden fence. A precaution for children, or perhaps for those foolish enough to get too close to the drop off overlooking Lake Telta.

At this time of the morning, the sun had yet to reach the clearing, so it was still in the shadow of the cliff walls. Impa slowly shuffled up near the fence, her head bowed in respect as she passed the graves. To offer Impa privacy with her morning prayers, Cado held back just before the canyon opened up.

Goddess Hylia, she prayed, keep Princess Zelda safe within your womb. Lend her your strength so that one day, with the aid of the chosen Hero, she may overcome and banish the Calamity. Even now, as over the course of a century, the Princess was trapped in the castle, bound in an endless battle of wills with the malice of Ganon. Impa would never forget the night the poor young woman had come to the village in ruins.

In those days, she had been assigned as an Adviser to the Royal Family of Hyrule. Her duties in this capacity focused mainly on heading the research into various ancient Sheikah technologies. Her older sister Purah and another scientist, Robbie, ran their own divisions under her guidance. Princess Zelda had eventually joined their ranks as well after she showed a great aptitude for scientific research. During her spare time outside of devotions, she possessed an unrivaled curiosity for a wide array of subjects, which was beneficial to the research teams. Having such a high connection within the Royal Family meant that their work was well funded continuously.

Their efforts were in answer to a prophecy that had been delivered to the Royal Family. It spoke of the revival of a legend known as The Calamity, a primal evil which had risen to plague the land ten thousand years ago. King Rhoam was hoping to use the same means their ancestors had to defend against the possible return of The Calamity. The more they uncovered, the more they realized the legends were true.

Relics, which came to be known as Divine Beasts, were unearthed in various locations across the land. Impa’s teams began an intense study of these artifacts, as well as the many Shrines that dotted all of Hyrule; though they were, as yet, unable to ascertain how to gain access to their inner sanctums. They also uncovered the smaller, autonomous Guardians. Robbie took a great interest in these contraptions and even brought some back to working order.

But Calamity Ganon had outsmarted them.

~~~

As the sun was setting, a young Impa and her team of scientists were concluding their experiments for the day and packing up under the stone pavilion in the castle courtyard. Suddenly, a large rumble echoed around the area, followed by a short earthquake. Everyone fled out from under the roof in case it collapsed but immediately froze in shock upon seeing the castle being engulfed in a swirling pink and black miasma. It circled around and took the shape of a boar-headed demon. A cloud continued erupting into the sky and started to spread, mirroring the overwhelming sense of dread everyone was now feeling. No, we’re not ready!

Before they had time to react, globs of malice erupted from the castle and began to rain down on the ground. The creature roared menacingly to the sky from the epicenter as if to announce its freedom and dominion over all. Impa watched a large glob soar over them like a meteor. She turned northwest to follow its trajectory. Is it possible it was headed for Rito Village?

Someone screamed and she snapped back around to see that the stationary Guardians they had been working with had become active on their own. They were glowing magenta with an evil energy, their heads spinning back and forth as if they were calibrating. Her instincts kicked in and she ordered everyone to grab the most important things. “Take the research! We must get it safely to Kakariko!” At once, people ran in all directions trying to gather their most important work.

Purah ran over to her younger sister and looked at her frantically. “Impa, the Guidance Stone!”

Impa closed her eyes and bowed her head. “We should only save what we can-”

Purah grabbed her arms and Impa looked back up at her in surprise. She was hardly ever so serious. “Anything we take from here will be useless junk unless we have the Guidance Stone to access it. This is not a discussion. It’s a necessity and you know it.”

“Fine. But just us. I’m not risking anyone else going in there.” She looked up towards the high pointed towers of the castle, some now covered in a dark ooze.

“Fine,” Purah acquiesced and started to walk away. “Just us, and Robbie.” Robbie, who had been stuffing schematics into a satchel whipped around at the sound of his name.

Impa grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her back. “What did I just say?!” Suddenly, one of the Guardians stopped spinning its head back and forth and now focused its single blue eye on the Sheikah women, who were too wrapped up in their stare-down to notice.

Robbie paled. “Oh... shit!” They had seconds. His eyes darted around for something, anything... There! A Royal Guard, easily identified by his red tunic under a gold embroidered dark blue tabard, was running their way carrying a large, half-bodied shield.

The Guardian began emitting an ominous beeping noise and a red laser targeted Impa. Robbie pounced on the guard and grabbed his shield away. “Sorry, my man!”

Purah gasped when she saw the red laser on Impa’s shoulder, and utterly terrified, yelled, “Jump back only when I say!”

Impa’s eyes widened in fear as the beeping got faster. Robbie scrambled over to them as the Guardian made a piercing noise, and blue energy shot out of its eye with the intent to destroy. There was a massive ricochet as Robbie parried the energy back at the Guardian with his pilfered shield. Its eerie pink glow fizzled out and it blew to pieces, cogs and gears flying everywhere.

“WOOOOO!” Robbie exclaimed. “Yeah!” He pumped his fists and stretched out a bit. “Man, I saw the Champion do that once and have been wanting to try it ever since.”

Impa, who had ended up huddled on the ground with Purah behind the thrill-seeker, now stood and pulled her sister up as well. “Right, so it’s just us, and Robbie.”

She watched as the rest of the Royal Guard’s unit arrived and set upon the other stationary Guardians before they also had the chance to start working. Robbie returned the shield to the guard he had ambushed and instructed him on the technique to parry the blasts. “The shield should withstand a number of hits this way,” he explained.  

Impa’s mind was a flurry of questions. Was the miasma poisonous? How did it take control of the Guardians? Could they make it to the Guidance Stone?

The Royal Guard unit had now taken out the other three legless Guardians, but she feared it was a small victory. The research team tried to settle now that the immediate danger in the vicinity was over, but every noise set them off, causing them to pause and look around like prey at a watering hole.

She then heard members of the Garrison yelling from the Western Gatehouse, “They’re coming out of the pillars! DOZENS!”, “Hylia above, they’re headed for the town!”

Her stomach flipped over as she thought of those monstrous contraptions overtaken by evil. The very machines that were supposed to protect them were instead destroying everything in their path. All those people...

They had to get out. Now.

Her researchers started to panic after also hearing the desperate cries. She had to focus again, lead them. She addressed them in her authoritative tone, “Everyone, stay calm. We’ll make for the docks. The south exit is... compromised.” Impa looked over to see the Royal Guard leaving to heed the cry from the Western Gatehouse.

“Sir Karane!” she called out. She ran over from under the pavilion to hail the Knight who had just led the assault on the stationary Guardians.

Karane held out an arm to stop her men. When the last one fell into line, she turned a pair of steely blue eyes toward Impa and crossed the same arm over her chest, tilting her head forward in respect. “Adviser.”

Impa regarded the soldiers, some of whom seemed itching to get to the battle. Luckily, she had a better fate in store for them. “The ancient tech research team requires an escort. It’s imperative we get this material safely out of the castle.” Karane spared a glance at the scientists stuffing papers and artifacts into any available containers they could find.

“We have a possible escape route via the docks,” Impa continued. Best case scenario is obtaining some horses and a cart for this gear,” Impa continued.

Sir Karane bowed curtly and then turned sharply to address her unit, her red braid whipping behind her. “You heard her men! We are now on special assignment for the Royal Adviser! Three of you with me,” she gestured to the men on her left. “We’re going to commandeer ourselves a ride. You four, make sure the way is clear to the docks. The rest of you escort our scientists!” She held an arm out to Impa and they clasped each other’s wrists.

“Thank you, Sir Karane.” Robbie and Purah came up beside Impa and she nodded their way to indicate to Karane that they would be working together. “We must retrieve the Guidance Stone. We’ll do our best to meet you there. If these things find you,” she looked towards the felled Guardians, “then leave without us!”

“I’ll give you an hour.”

Impa nodded. “If we don’t make it, there is another stone at the Royal Ancient Lab. I imagine they are doing the same and taking what they can.” She regarded the remaining regiment. “Can you spare your fastest guard from this lot and have them instruct the other team to rendezvous with us in Kakariko?”

“A solid plan, leave it to me.” Karane walked away and yelled, “Konba! I hope you’ve had your rushrooms.”

Impa then left her team in good hands as she went to fetch the Guidance Stone with her sister and Robbie; who was grinning, as he’d acquired himself another shield.

It was a rather large blessing that when they arrived at the docks, the research team was still there, unharmed. It seemed like they got ahead of the Calamity just enough to slip out the back, though the same couldn’t be said for the residents of Castle Town. Impa tried not to think about it as she helped shove the cart with the Stone and its activation pedestal onto the boat.

They made it across the river in the two boats which had been moored at the docks, and battled their way up the sloped bank. The ones who weren’t pushing stared blankly across the river at the scene of destruction unfolding before their eyes. The ones who didn’t want to see busied themselves with helping. Once they reached the grassy Irch Plain, they moved quickly without resting to scale the Elma Knolls. These would at least provide them some cover before heading east. It was unsettling to be so close to a pillar behind the castle, but it appeared that, at least for now, the invasion was focused on Hyrule Field.

After retreating to her village, which was currently safe in the mountains, Impa had sent out a search party for Zelda. She stood in the same spot near the graveyard under the tree, looking in horror at the castle across Hyrule Field. It was still engulfed in a swirling black and magenta miasma. The giant pillars, the existence of which she was aware but had never seen before they had risen out of the ground, were angled toward the castle. They had originally been meant for protection and housed the Guardians that, in the past, defended Hyrule. But all the Guardians had been turned against them, and the pillars were now menacing rather than a comfort. She thought they looked like the fingers of a demon come to enclose the castle in its grasp.

At the base and to the left of the ominous cloud was a wide, orange glow. Castle Town was destroyed; engulfed in flames.

~~~

When Zelda was later escorted into Kakariko, Impa discovered she was there on a mission, and had come bearing a request. She was a bit weak on her feet, but refused rest and clean clothes. Even though she was muddy and her white prayer dress was in tatters, she would not be deterred.

The worst had befallen the Kingdom and she just had one hope: that their Hero would return one day, as she saw when the Master Sword spoke to her. She sat in Impa’s old house at the time, bathed in a soft yellow light from the lanterns. She explained to Impa and the other scientists, her friends, Purah and Robbie, “Link must regain control of the Divine Beasts! Ganon has taken them from us. He controls them now and… and the Champions were… they’re gone.” Her hard stare and exhaustion made it look as if she was going to cry, but at this point she was out of tears, trying desperately to replace them with determination.

Impa felt a weight pool in her gut at the news. So the malice she had seen heading for Rito Village was meant for Vah Medoh, and spelled Champion Revali’s doom. She thought of each Champion, having returned to their Divine Beasts, only to find a deadly trap. She was silent for a moment, unsure; wondering if she should offer comfort or if that would merely be a distraction at this point. Her sister was fiddling with random items she could reach on the table, but rather than be annoyed, she knew it was Purah’s way of dealing with stress.

Zelda then gave a weary sigh and continued. “There’s a chance that Link may not retain some of his memories while in the shrine, so I have an idea of how to help him when he wakes.”

Impa nodded and silently agreed with Zelda’s sentiment. It was when he wakes, she thought, not if he wakes. It was best to be thinking positively in such dire circumstances.

“Purah,” Zelda looked at Impa’s sister, who stopped braiding the frayed threads of the tablecloth as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “I sent the Slate with Link and the Sheikah who found us to the Shrine of Resurrection. He’s going to need it when he awakens.” She paused and then added, “For guidance and access.”

She thought back to her discovery of the towers underground, the existence of which she had not yet been able to discuss with anyone due to trying to keep her research a secret from her father. He would have her only praying to awaken her power, rather than try to help in any other way. So she had been biding her time, not knowing that it would soon run out.

Now, there was only time to act, so she focused on the most important things and didn’t bother to elaborate. Telling Purah and Robbie about the towers was pointless anyway since only Link, as the chosen Hero, would be able to access them.

“I need you to take the contents of the Compendium out of the Slate and keep them in your Guidance Stone. Hopefully the images, or visiting the places where I took the pictures, will help him remember things.”

Purah agreed and nodded, “The Guidance Stone will keep them safe.” She stood from her chair and looked over at Robbie. He seemed to be lost in the shadow of self-loathing, head down and fists clenched at his knees, all previous bravado gone. “Robbie, let’s go see to Link. He’s not going to heal himself.” Robbie looked at Zelda sadly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. Purah snapped his attention away. “Quick smart!”

They made to leave the house and prepare their things when Zelda called out, “Purah wait! The last picture in the Compendium. Can you delete it but keep a paper copy like the one you made of us before? When the Champions were alive and happy. He should remember that last. It was where he… where I…” She tried, but couldn’t bring herself to talk about what had just happened, “it was where we parted,” she finished, while lowering her eyes in emotional defeat. “I don’t want him to be overwhelmed right after he returns to us.”

Purah blinked her red eyes, suddenly feeling trapped into a sense of responsibility that felt heavier than putting Link into an untested machine. That’s going to be fascinating- Focus Purah!

“I… of course I can make a copy, Princess.” She looked furtively over to Impa. It was one thing for the Guidance Stone to hang onto something in its database, but she, personally? She thought of the state of her workspace at the Royal Ancient Lab, which probably didn’t look so different now that it had most likely been reduced to rubble.

Impa knew her sister well and fought off a massive eye-roll in the presence of the Princess. “Once you are finished in the Shrine, bring me the picture and I will keep it safe for Link,” she offered reassuringly.

Purah visibly relaxed. “Sure thing, Sis.” She prodded Robbie to open the door as he was nearest.

Robbie slid it open and before stepping out, softly spoke to Zelda. “Good luck.” He couldn’t manage much more than that.

Purah looked back at Zelda, looking so small and forlorn, and stuck her chin out with conviction. “Zelly,” she said, “You give that Ganon bastard what for. And don’t get dead!” She followed Robbie out and the room suddenly felt heavier in her absence.

Impa placed her hand on Zelda’s shoulder, and though the young woman was doing everything she could to remain brave and strong, she was shaking. Impa was certain that there was a good amount of fear behind that shaking, but if any part of it was due to lack of nourishment, she wasn’t having it. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink before you go.”

Zelda’s head snapped up. “No, I should leave right away. I’ve already stayed too long. The more time I take, the farther the Guardians can go. They’re laying waste to the Kingdom!”

Impa tutted, “As if I’d let you face Ganon on an empty stomach. What would Sir Link say!?”

~~~

Since that day, Impa prayed for her Princess, overlooking a horizon that never changed. She eventually married, had a child, and then a grandchild. And though her life had known massive loss, and this sacred ground where she stood was for mourning, it was also a place of hope. Hope that one day the Hero would return, and things would change. As more time went by, she became uncertain if she would see Link again. She had started to seriously consider passing Zelda’s message on to Paya should he wake after her death.

But he had come, and with him, an ever-changing vista as he reclaimed the Divine Beasts from Ganon’s control one by one. His successes were revealed to her when she would come out here to pray. The Beasts aimed their divine light as red beams towards the castle from their respective perches across the land, ready to fire when the Hero finally faced his evil foe.

Now there was only one hurdle left, though it was certainly the highest. Before Link was awake, Impa had given most of her prayers to Zelda. But since his return, she prayed for his boundless courage to succeed in the fight against Calamity Ganon. For if he failed, she couldn’t imagine the dark world her granddaughter would inherit.

Impa finished her prayers and raised the brim of her hat to look at the castle on the horizon. She sucked in a breath as she took in a change to the scenery she’d been waiting to see for a hundred years. The cloud of malice had gone. “Eeeeee!” She gave a toothy grin and smacked her thigh.

At the sound of her shriek, Cado rushed over, his weapon drawn. “Lady Impa, what is it!?” She practically barreled past him at top old lady speed, leaving him confused as to where the danger was. He, too, then saw the castle and chin dropped silently agape.

“Cado!” She yelled, while hobbling back to the village. “Get everyone to make preparations. The Princess is coming!”

She rushed toward the house and almost ran over a cucco that unfortunately strutted in front of her gate. It squawked and flapped out of the way at the last second, allowing her to huff up the stairs. Cado, who was following just behind, picked up his panicked cucco and scratched under her wings until the cuddle calmed her down.

“You’re ok, my lovely. The mean old lady was rude, wasn’t she?” He whispered. He waited until Impa was safely inside before walking across the main path to the Inn to inform Ollie to prepare a suitable place for the Hero and the Princess. Lady Impa would want only the very best hospitality that Kakariko could offer.

Ollie blinked as he groggily woke up from sleeping at his desk, and stated, “Hey, no cuccos allowed in the- wait,” he squinted, “a princess is coming?”

Cado lifted an eyebrow and sighed in annoyance. “I’m holding her, she just had a scare.” He stroked the cucco’s tail feathers. “Did you not hear anything I just said?” The Innkeeper just blinked slowly again, so he raised his voice, “The Calamity is gone, Ollie. The Hero was successful, and now Lady Impa is sure that he is to arrive here with the Princess at any moment!”

Ollie now made an ‘O’ of realization with his mouth and gazed off into space. After a moment passed he looked back at Cado. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Yes. So make sure they have every comfort,” Cado repeated as he turned around to make his way back to his post. He paused at the open door and looked back at Ollie, his cucco now tucked under one arm clucking softly. His stern stare implied that he needed affirmation.

“Right, right.” Ollie waved with a dorky half-smile. Cado, now satisfied, slid the door closed behind him. Ollie immediately slouched again. I’ll get to it in a bit, he thought before swiftly falling back asleep. Claree, who ran the tailor shop in town, was convinced he was actually a cat who could shapeshift into a Sheikah because of how often he slept.

As Impa entered the house, she yelled for her granddaughter “Paya! Paya, wake up!”

Paya’s eyes flew open and she kicked her covers off, her feet thumping on the upper level as she rushed to her grandmother’s call. Impa had only made it halfway up the lower steps when she ran into a descending flurry. “Grandmother! What’s wrong?! Are you ok?” Her two red hair bun chopsticks, which she usually forgot to take out before bed, had come loose during sleep and fell out, clattering down the stairs. She paid them no mind as she dropped to her knees in front of the small woman to immediately begin looking for injuries.

Before she had a chance to become too frantic, Impa took Paya’s hands into her own and gave a toothy grin, wherein a gap on the top left added an endearing charm of age. “Be still, child. I’m fine. All of Hyrule will be fine. Our Hero has done it!” She squeezed Paya’s hands in excitement. “Sir Link and Princess Zelda have rid us of The Calamity!”

Paya gasped. She began thinking of so many things at once. Is Link ok? Is the Princess ok? Did her fervent devotion help them even in some small way? How can she help now? “But Grandma, does this mean-?”

“Yes, dear. I think they’re coming.”

“Eeeee,” Paya jumped up suddenly, “I have to clean my room!” She rushed back upstairs and then turned around and came back down to grab her chopsticks. Then she scurried up the stairs again. Impa chuckled as she heard furniture moving and things being tossed around. It was amusing because Paya’s room was already spotless; but yes, a place would need to be made for Zelda. And she would be welcome to stay as long as she’d like.

Impa made her way slowly down the stairs now and back to her pillows. At long last, she thought. Today was certainly no longer mundane. Ah, yes, the oil. “Paya!” She barked as she settled onto the top cushion, “When you’re done up there, one of the lamps needs a refill!” Can’t have the place looking anything but perfect for the Princess.

“Yes, Grandma!” Came the muffled reply.

Impa looked over at the painting on the wall again and thought back to a time when this future was still uncertain.

Link had just returned to her after visiting the place detailed in the frame. He seemed very unsettled and wasn’t his usual self. Or, at least, he was unlike his new self. He was actually emulating his old self quite a bit. Stoic, measured, and a bit guarded. Zelda was right. It would have been too hard for him to remember so much all at once. He now reminded her of how Zelda had been the night she left to face Ganon on her own, trying to be so brave.

“You’re troubled by what you’ve remembered.” She peered at him from her perch in a way that made him feel like she could tell what he was thinking. “You haven’t lost your courage though. So what’s weighing on your mind?”

Link sat on his knees before her on one of the blue mats, free of his gear which he had left leaning by the door. He carefully considered his answer. Looking down at his blue Champion’s tunic, he let out a soft, ironic sniff at how it was the very same he’d worn that terrible night. The night he almost died. It must have either been remade entirely, or so lovingly repaired, that it did not show any of the damage it had once sustained.

His eyes moved over the painting on the wall and he marveled at how a decoration, which before today was so unassuming and almost lost to the background, could now stir so many emotions from one glance. The Guardians in the frame, which were now still and decaying, had been there in the marsh, glowing magenta under Ganon’s control. Hunting them.

As he remembered, he was surprised at the sense of fear that it brought back. In the past few months he had become proficient in fighting all types of Guardians, especially with the ancient weapons that Robbie had since created. But experiencing that night again, hearing the sound of the gears turning, and the thumping of their spidery legs on the ground as they searched for anything and everything to destroy, that really unsettled him. Perhaps because he had failed.

The Chosen Hero had managed to defeat so many of the machines as he and Zelda fled south from the castle; a feat that no other warrior of Hyrule could accomplish. But they never stopped, never tired. They were relentless. And when he had nothing left to give but his very body as a shield, a golden light and a comforting warmth spread over him, and somehow he knew that he was finally free to relax, to let go. Zelda was holding him, and then there was darkness for a century, until her voice reached him, urging him to wake up.

He focused again on Impa, who, in her wisdom, was waiting patiently for his response. He thought the Princess now seemed familiar. But she also still felt like someone he did not know. “I’m just not sure what to do for her if I defeat Ganon.”

“When.” Impa corrected.

Link smirked, “Very well. When.” He couldn't seem to stop the smirk from turning into a genuine smile as he considered her faith in him. He appreciated the interjection of positive thought, even when it was delivered with a bit of sass.

There he is, Impa mused.

“As her sworn Knight Attendant,” she began, then squinted at him and added as an aside, “should you wish to still honor that oath?”

Link nodded his head forward slightly in agreement, so she continued, “Then it would be best to simply follow her wishes.” She paused a moment and, after considering other possible outcomes besides the ideal, mentioned, “Of course, should she be worse for wear, bring her to Kakariko and we will take care of her. At least here she will have someone who knows her if you have not regained your memories by then.”

Link stood and bowed respectfully before taking his leave. He knew that she had not meant the statement to be a slight, but it still stung. Not remembering his past made him feel like he was failing all over again.

[siren-dragon]

1,001 Lucian Nights -- Somnus x F!reader fanfiction (Ch.2)

Summary: After what he did to Ardyn, Somnus becomes haunted by the memories. Yet he soon finds comfort in the woven stories of a young woman (Arabian Nights AU)

Here is Chapter 2 for my Somnus x reader story, everyone enjoy. Also, here is the link to the story on my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19031473/chapters/45200254

“None knew when or where Verstael would strike; he was a skilled tactician and a master of disguise, showing no mercy to any he and his men raided within the entire region,” you began once more. “It was during this time that young Prompto was collecting fruits and herbs, to sell in the local markets; he was a very kind and hard-working soul….”

“If the rains don’t start up soon, there won’t be much fruit to collect.” Prompto spoke aloud, sighing as he tossed the few oranges he managed to obtain into his satchel. “This is no way to make a living, Pryna.”

The loyal dog barked in acknowledgement, keeping pace with her young charge. Prompto smiled down at his companion and let a hand run through her fur, causing a grin to stretch across her muzzle, “and I have so many good ideas that are way better than just gathering fruit. Just think Pryna, what if we had away to have a portrait done in an instant; with no need to wait hours for the painter to study his subject?”

Pryna let loose a soft whine, tilting her head to the side as a show of her confusion, causing Prompto to sigh. “I suppose you don’t really understand too much of what I’m saying, do you?” He stood upright once more and continued down the faded path on the search for more wild produce. But before he could continue further into the forest, Prompto was startled when Pryna began to growl that was quickly followed by her barking. Turning to see what had caused the normally placid hound’s drastic change in behavior, Prompto noticed several silhouettes approaching over the rolling hills of the Causcherry Plains. “What is that? Is that what’s troubling you Pryna?”

The alabaster dog quickly took hold of his tunic and tugged forcefully before releasing him and barking in alarm, as if trying to force him to follow. Prompto quickly took the hint and immediately gave chase after Pryna as she led the two of them to a secluded out-crop of trees in order to hide. It was not much longer that the earth began to rumble as a herd of chocobo’s stampeded past, each bearing a rider clad in black robes and leather armor coming to a stop not far from Prompto and Pryna’s hiding spot.

“Those men…they must be the bandits that have been massacring the caravans.” Prompto whispered, gently petting Pryna to soothe her quiet whines. “Shh, it’s okay Pryna; good girl.”

“Pryna’s warning had saved Prompto from danger. Animals can be far cleverer than their masters.” You explained, chuckling softly.

“….And you can trust them,” Somnus replied with an edge of irritation before gesturing for you to continue.

When the mob of chocobos and their riders had come to a halt, the man atop the lead chocobo ushered the beast forward to near a large rockface. It was only once he had dismounted his large avian mount was Prompto able to catch a glimpse of the man. His clothing was worn, though made of sturdy and expensive material- with the tunic, breeches, and cloak all colored in various shades of black and deep crimson to defend against the torrential rainfalls. Only half of his hair, which was hue of blonde that held a twinge of silver, was oiled against his scalp while the rest fell into his face while his sideburns grew into a beard along his chin. However, it was his cerulean-blue eyes that caused fear to grasp at Prompto’s heart, eyes that were colder than a winter wind and sharper than ice.

Verstael then raised his hands and in a crisp, clear voice spoke; “gysahl greens.”

At the sound of his words, a loud rumble began to shake the wall of stone until the rock formation began to shift and crumble to reveal the entrance of a cavern, startling Prompto. Though his shock soon turned to fear as roar sounded from within the cavern to expose a large Jabberwock who emerged from the hidden hollow and rushed toward the bandits. While the other thieves immediately took flight, Verstael remained perfectly still as the monster sprinted toward him.

“Down!” Verstael snarled, raising his hand and commanding the monster to halt in its tracks as it growled and roared in anger. Retrieving a slice of meat from within his robe, Verstael then threw the piece of flesh to the Jabberwock. It was then that Verstael began motioning for his men to continue into the cavern to deposit their recently acquired ill-gotten spoils as the Jabberwock slowly retreated away into the stone den once more.

Prompto watched with awe as the thieves made quick work of hiding their loot. “That must be the bandit Verstael and his men but, gysahl greens? Aren’t those the leaves that chocobo’s eat? It must be their passphrase….”

The young man and his faithful dog laid in wait for twenty minutes until the thieves quickly finished and Verstael waved his hand and sealed the entrance once more. Lowering himself further to ensure they did not see him, Prompto waited till the sound of chocobo’s disappeared as Verstael and his men left once more. When the forest had fallen silent Prompto and Pryna slowly abandoned their hiding place and moved to where Verstael had stood mere minutes earlier. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure that the thieves had truly left, Prompto took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“No guts, no glory,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and lifted his hands aloft. “Gysahl greens!”

Once again, the stone began to fall away to unveil the cavern’s entrance. Prompto grinned widely at his success until the ground shook from the Jabberwock’s heavy-set footsteps approaching at a fast rate. Pryna hid behind his legs and whined in fear as the large dragon approached, but Prompto stood motionless and prayed to any Astral that would listen his plan would work or it would be the last sight both he and his dear friend would ever see. When the Jabberwock was mere feet away, he lifted his hands similarly to Verstael and shouted, “down!” pleased his voice did not crack or stutter.

The Jabberwock ceased its movement and obediently sat upon its haunches, growling softly at Prompto’s command. Heart racing, Prompto opened his eyes and nearly collapsed in fear at the sight of a Jabberwock mere feet away; though noticed the beast did not attempt to cause him harm. Gently resting a calming hand upon Pryna he slowly walked around the enormous dragon and proceeded into the cavern. It was the scent that was first noticed; a musty stench of still air and mildew that caused Prompto to cough heavily as he dove deeper into the cave. However, his journey soon came to an end as he stopped in his tracks when the light from the entrance illuminated what it was Verstael and his men had the Jabberwock protecting.

“By Ramuh,” Prompto cursed faintly as he gawked at the sight that greeted him.

Strewn across the interior of the cavern was a vast assortment of treasure. Every item of value a person could desire was tossed haphazardly inside the thieves’ horde. From gold and silver coins that over flowed from chests and crates to endless strands of pearls laying upon heaps of fine fabric and beautiful armor, though Prompto gulped nervously as he noticed the few bloodstains upon the metal. Sapphires, emeralds, rubies, diamonds, topaz, amethysts, and opals littered the stone floor like flowers in a meadow; sending a spectrum of colors onto the walls as the light reflected off their crystalline surfaces. Prompto had never seen so much wealth in his entire life and almost thought himself dreaming were it not for the Jabberwock who proceeded return to its den at the far end of the cavern.

Though soon Prompto’s attention was diverted to the quickly closing entrance, shrouding the entire cave in darkness with the exception of a miniscule skylight. Biting his lip nervously as he mulled over his recent discovery, Prompto quickly threw caution to the wind and took hold of whatever treasure he could carry. With his pockets filled to bursting with coins and jewels he took hold of several nearby satchels while another was draped over his shoulder and cried out the passphrase once more. “Gysahl greens!”

Rocks and stone shifted once more as the entrance was opened, allowing Prompto to race out of the cavern with a new spring in his step. “Pryna! Pryna look, we’re loaded! Have you ever seen anything so wonderful in your life?”

Pryna gave a joyful bark at the obvious happiness displayed upon her owner’s face, which caused Prompto to laugh in response. “Come on, Loqi isn’t going to believe this!”

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Despite the bucket of cold water that was tossed upon Loqi’s face, the young man was barely pulled from his sleep having been far to accustom to his younger brother’s antics. Yet that did not stop the irritation he felt at the rude awakening he suffered from. “Ugh, what are you doing brother? If you are hungry, go bother mother,” he grumbled crossly.

“Nothing of consequence, and mother’s been dead for five years Loqi.” Prompto shot back dryly, “now come on, get up.”

“If that is the case, what is for breakfast?”

Prompto gave a cheeky smile as he tossed an orange at his older brother, “fresh air and oranges. Why are you not awake yet?”

“Because some of us still wish to sleep. Why are you awake so early?” Loqi groaned, blinking the sleep away from his eyes.

“That’s because I’ve got something to show you.”

The sounds of the two brother’s cries of delight could have been heard for miles as Prompto poured the contents of his satchels onto the dirt floor of their home. Loqi tore through the various coins and jewels like a starving man tore through a loaf of bread; eager to touch and observe every glittering piece of their new-found wealth. Prompto couldn’t help but smile at the joy his elder brother showed at the wonderous surprise they have been blessed with until a sudden and horrifying thought crossed his mind. “Where gonna have to move to a new house. In case the thieves find out who found that cave of theirs….”

A hand quickly landed upon Prompto’s shoulder as Loqi pulled the younger man to face him. “But I want my share,” he demanded harshly.

Prompto shrugged, “of course, I don’t want it all for myself. We can split the treasure.”

“What, half and half for both of us?”

“Of course, half and half.”

Loqi scoffed, releasing his brother and making his way toward the front door. “I am going to that cave to get my own share.”

That declaration sent a jolt of panic through Prompto’s system as Loqi began tugging on his wool cloak. “No, it could be dangerous now.”

“I can take care of myself fine, Prompto.”

Prompto frowned, “well…if you truly want to go, take Pryna. She knows the way and she’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“Pryna is a dog, Prompto.” Loqi replied in exasperation….

“Do you really think I need a dog to look after me?” you spoke as Somnus gave a slight chuckle at your words. “Both Prompto and Pryna nodded, neither of them denying that Loqi was certainly in need of someone to look after him.”

“But why was Prompto so different from Loqi?” Somnus questioned curiously.

Your lips tugged into a small smile at the king’s sincere question. “Both boys possessed various similarities, but Prompto had something Loqi never had: a good heart.”

Somnus smirked in disbelief, “and you think a good heart can protect people?”

“Well, have you ever known someone with a good heart?” you asked kindly.

It was here that Somnus fell silent, his expression turning cold in an instant as his gaze became unfocused; as if he were lost in a memory. The soft, orange light of the oil lamp did nothing to warm the frigid visage he now sported, making you wonder if you had pushed your luck to far. Clenching his fist tightly, Somnus let his now icy gaze fix itself upon you; “no…never.”

You briefly opened your mouth to speak but soon closed it, deciding it best to continue with your story. “Well, anyway, Loqi soon found himself at the robber’s treasure horde.”

Pryna’s guidance proved invaluable as Loqi walked closer to the hidden entrance, eyes gleaming in anticipation for the reward that lay beyond the stone obstacle. Prompto had even given Loqi a bushel of gysahl greens so that he would remember the passphrase to grant him access to the cave. “Gysahl greens,” Loqi called aloud; his face alit with glee as the rock structure began to shift and twist to reveal the cave entrance. Of course, Prompto did not forget to mention the protective Jabberwock guarding the treasure, but even the brief warning did not quite prepare Loqi to see the ferocious creature in the flesh.

“D-Down, boy.” He stuttered briefly, causing the monstrous reptile to fall back onto its haunches. Loqi gave a nervous grin to the Jabberwock and tossed the creature the gysahl greens within his hands, which the beast sulkily ate before returning toward its den while Loqi swiftly followed while Pryna stayed behind. At last setting eyes upon the vast treasure that covered every inch of the cave, Loqi drank in the endless wealth with an insatiable greed as he merrily celebrated the fortune that was now his, and his alone. A mad laugh began to echo across the rock walls as Loqi came to forget all but the treasure that lay at his feet.

Meanwhile, outside of the thieves’ hideaway, Pryna waited patiently for Loqi to leave the cave until the sound of heavy footfalls soon caught her attention. Recognizing the scent of the bandits as they quickly approached, Pryna barked at the cave in an attempt to regain Loqi’s attention but it was no use. With no other choice and desperate to avoid danger, the snow-colored dog raced off down the path and back toward home.

It was during this time that Loqi had finished collecting all the treasure he could carry when he heard Pryna’s calls. Immediately he stood up and hurried toward the stone wall ready to say the passphrase…but found himself possessing no memory of it. Having tossed aside the gysahl greens to the Jabberwock, Loqi had no visual aid to assist him in remembering the passphrase to re-open the entrance of the cavern.

“Wh-What was the phrase? Was it ‘green lizards’ or ‘fallen greens’?” Loqi muttered frantically, trying to recall the means to his only escape. “Ma-Maybe it is something like open? Open…Open now! Open sesame!”

Outside the cave, Verstael swiftly dismounted his chocobo once again and raised his hand as he said, “gysahl greens!”

Loqi watched in horror as the entrance began to move and open, signaling the arrival of Verstael and his forty thieves. Scrambling through the heaps of treasure, Loqi soon found a jewel-encrusted blade buried beneath a pile of coins in order to fight his way out. Counting to three, the young man raced out of the cavern with satchels of jewels hanging from shoulders while a string of pearls lay wrapped around his neck and startling the unsuspecting thieves. Loqi quickly parried and slashed madly at any bandit that dared to approach him but his escape did not last as a blade ran through his stomach, staining his tunic crimson.

“G-Gysahl greens…. yes, t-that was…it….” Loqi coughed heavily as Verstael glared at the fool before angrily twisting his sword within the would-be thief as his blood drained from his body.

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

“In the time Loqi was off getting himself killed, Prompto had hired a young servant maiden named Cindy; to help him now that he had money.” You continued, shifting your position against the floor pillows.

Somnus frowned, “and what was this Cindy girl like?”

“Well, many said she was beautiful; though she was certainly very clever. And a kind, independent spirit.”

“She sounds just like you.”

You blinked in surprise at your sovereign’s words, “like me? Oh no, she wasn’t like me- not like me at all….”

“That’s everything packed into the cart, sir.” Cindy confirmed with a nod, the brogue drawl of her accent only complimenting the beauty of her golden hair and olive-green eyes.

Prompto could only smile as a slight blush tinted his freckled face when meeting his new employee’s eyes. “Thanks Cindy, we’ll leave just as soon as- Pryna?”

Indeed, it was Pryna who was racing down the main path of the village and colliding with Prompto’s body, knocking him to the ground as she curled close to his body for comfort. Cindy hurried over to help Prompto up once more, watching Pryna’s actions with concern. “Is she alright?”

“S-She’s just scared is all but… Pryna, where’s my brother?” Prompto asked fearfully as he tried to calm his dear friend, “where’s Loqi?”

When Pryna had finally led them back through the forest to the hidden cave, Cindy let loose a gasp while Prompto stared in horror at the sight before him; his legs soon giving out from shock. Tied to the very trees that both Prompto and Pryna used to hide from Verstael and his fellow thieves that very morning was Loqi; covered in blood as lifeless, vacant eyes remained frozen in terror. Tears began to fall from Prompto’s eyes as he sobbed at the fate that had befallen his brother and the warning the bandits had used him to showcase. “Loqi, no! No, no, he can’t be dead!” He pounded a fist against the dirt in anger, “I should have been here! I should have tried harder to stop him…”

Cindy stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on Prompto’s shoulder, “I am sorry for your loss, but you mustn’t blame yourself. Come now, we should leave as soon as we can.”

“No,” Prompto answered back, moving to his feet as he trudged toward his brother’s corpse. “We can’t leave him here for the Sabertusks to pick at his bones. H-He has to have a proper burial.”

“I don’t believe that would be bright idea.” Cindy countered delicately as Prompto began cutting the ropes, “when the robbers return and see the body gone, they’ll realize someone else knows about the location of their treasure. They might… They might search for you and do to you what they did to your brother.”

“I know that you’re right Cindy, but we can’t just leave him here. He…. He’s my brother.”

When they were finally able to arrive within Lestallum, Prompto immediately set about preparing for Loqi’s funeral. Due to his recently acquired wealth, the service was one of the grandest ever seen and talked across the city for weeks afterward. It was the least that Prompto could due for his departed brother and he was more than willing to spare no expense. However, it seemed that Prompto’s good fortune was soon to take a turn for the worse….

“Someone else knows as well, Chief.” One of the thieves spoke, showing the sliced ropes.

Verstael cursed, “I made a mistake. And it seems we will have to correct it.”

“Chief,” another man interrupted as he emerged from the cave with a grim expression. “We’ve been robbed. Jewels and gold coins are missing.”

Outcries of anger rippled across the pack of bandits, only to be silenced by a wave of Verstael’s hand. His quiet rage was barely contained as he calmly asked, “how much?”

“Only a few satchels.”

“There must have been two or three thieves at the most,” Verstael murmured. “We will have to search for them in Lestallum now.”

“But, how do we find them?”

Verstael smirked, “they took the body and will require to perform a burial. So, we must search for someone who has come into wealth recently and can afford a rich funeral.”

“Huh, that’s very clever Chief. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Nor me.” “Or me.” “Or me.” “Or me- “

“Spare me your repetitive praises,” Verstael snarled, silencing his men instantly. “We will scout the city in groups of two or three, and in disguise…. Or they will not hesitate to hang us on sight.”

Verstael and his men traveled through Lestallum secretly in search of their unknown thief. Truthfully, robbers find nothing wrong with robbery of any kind…except when it happens to them. Meanwhile, Prompto had come to modestly enjoy his new found wealth; the comfort of a new house, fine clothing, and plentiful food a welcomed change to the life he once led. Sitting within the open-air courtyard of his home Prompto sighed, tossing an orange slice upon a silver plate while Pryna lounged beside him on the plush carpet. “I… I feel sad.”

Cindy, who was currently sweeping the cobble-stone path, briefly stopped when Prompto spoke. “Don’t you like the new house and clothes?” She asked politely.

“I do, but it’s just… I just miss Loqi is all.”

She smiled as she continued with her sweeping, her golden hair starting to plaster against her face from the slight sweat on her brow. “That’s understandable: he was your brother.”

“Yeah but… you know, everyone should have good fortune.” Prompto replied, “it’s just that its so much better when you have someone to… to share it with.”

“You are a good man Prompto, and any woman who can’t see that well; she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Prompto gave a bright grin at Cindy’s words, “…Thank you, Cindy.”

As the day began to fade to evening, Verstael’s men were quick to follow the lead of their new found information and were hot on the trail. They dug up Loqi’s body to make sure they had the right man before racing off to their small camp, eager to reveal to their leader the fruit of the labor. Verstael, meanwhile, was solemnly relaxing in the warmth of the small fire when his men stopped beside him to show the tattered cap in their hands.

“This once belonged to a young Loqi, elder brother to Prompto…who has recently come into money.”

“And do you know where this Prompto lives,” Verstael questioned, spitting out the boy’s name as if it were a foul curse.

“In a small villa, near the outskirts of Lestallum across the Wennath River. It possesses a rather splendid view of the river and plains though it’s price is quite- “

“I don’t want to buy it you idiot,” Verstael growled, shoving the man out of the way as he came to his feet. “I just want to kill him, and everyone else in the blasted house.”

“How many do you want for the job?”

“All of us.”

“But…how do forty of us manage to get pass the city guards?”

Verstael smirked cruelly, “I know how. And by this time tomorrow night, Prompto and his household will be slaughtered!”

At the sound of Verstael’s command, every single thief drew their blades and cheered for the bloodshed they were more than eager to commit….

“And so, the foul and monstrous Verstael walked toward the main gates of Lestallum. Ready to butcher Prompto and everyone in his…house…”

You let your words trail off into silence as you took in the sight of the King sitting across from you, who had appeared to have slouched further into the cushions. His arms were crossed over his chest as half-lidded eyes began to hold a glassy look of drowsiness, shifting his gaze to the floor. For a moment you had thought your tale too dull to entertain the severe man’s icy exterior, but your thoughts soon proved false as Somnus tried to fight against the exhaustion he felt. “What is the…. the matter? Why have you stopped?”

“It is nothing, your majesty.”

“Then tell me what… what happened to Prompto and Cindy? What happens next? Does…does Verstael kill them or,” Somnus turned to face you as he blinked slowly. “Do you not know what is to happen.”

“I do know, sire, but the hour is late and you appear to be exhausted. Perhaps it is best if you retire for the evening.”

“No. No, no, no; I can’t sleep.” He muttered under his breath, tossing and turning against the pillows; “every time I sleep, he’s there. I-I can’t face him again. Please, continue your story.”

You frowned at the incoherent words Somnus was speaking, wondering if what Gilgamesh had spoken of was far worse than any of you were to believe. Rising to your feet, you quickly retrieved a linen blanket from the chaise and laid it over Somnus’ body to keep out the evening chill. “It’s alright, sire- you have nothing to fear. Remember my story? When Prompto showed no fear when facing the Jabberwock?”

A soft chuckle escaped Somnus lips at that, “that boy was either very courageous or very…. foolish. Just like…. just like brother was…. ” And it was then that Somnus fell silent as he descended into the Realm of Dreams.

“Good evening, your majesty.” You whispered softly as you made your way to the exit. However, when you opened the door you were not greeted by the two glaives that stood guard there, but Gilgamesh himself. “Lord Gilgamesh….”

“Lady (f/n),” he inclined his head in greeting. “Will you permit me to escort you to your rooms?” It was more a demand than an inquiry, one you knew you would not be able to deny.

“Of course, your Lordship.”

The tension between the two of you as you returned toward the East Wing was so thick it could be sliced with a blade. You glanced briefly at the warrior walking beside you and took note of Gilgamesh’s solemn face, the stony expression making it seem as if he were a made from marble. It was only once you were passing the garden courtyard just outside Lady Selene’s rooms did Gilgamesh speak. “Lady (f/n) ….do you know what duties the title of ‘Shield’ encompasses?”

“I am afraid I do not, Lord Gilgamesh.”

“A king’s shield is his first line of defense and his loyal aid in battle. Similarly, I am charged with remaining at my sovereign’s side and protecting him from any and all threats. Be they on the battlefield or within his own palace.”

You stopped walking and turned to face the tall warrior. “….I do not wish to cause harm upon the king, Lord Gilgamesh.”

“I do not believe you do, but I advise you to remain cautious Lady (f/n). For should you find yourself out of favor with the king, not even your position as Lady Selene’s handmaid may save you.” He warned, bowing deeply, “good night, Lady (f/n).”

“Good night, Lord Gilgamesh.”

You watched as the silver-haired swordsman swiftly took his leave and disappeared down the darkened corridor, taking a shuddering breath only once he had left your sight completely. Despite his intimidating mannerisms, Gilgamesh had offered you not only a kindness; but a warning as well. You knew Lord Somnus to be a fair and just king, but if he were to feel your presence to be a threat due to his taxed health, you could find yourself at the mercy of the headman’s axe. And yet… you recalled azure eyes the shade of a summer storm over the ocean, whose glassy surface gazed at you in fear at the thought of the memories that hid in the shadows of his own mind. You wondered that perhaps maybe, just maybe; your brief meeting was able to grant Somnus a small relief.

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The sound of a crowing Daggerquill was the first thing Somnus registered as his eyes opened and began to gain focus. He frowned in confusion as to why he awoke on the cushion’s in his sitting room with a blanket tossed over his body before memories of the previous night flooded back to him. Images of a young woman who had sat beside him as she narrated a story; a fairy tale of all things. He had scoffed at her meager attempts to soothe his anger at her trespass but… Somnus couldn’t deny he found himself pulled into fable she had slowly and clumsily wove together. And it was the first time in a long while that his mind was not haunted by elaborate nightmares the left him screaming.

A knock soon sounded against the door only to be followed by Gilgamesh’s voice. “Your majesty, are you awake?”

“Yes Gilgamesh, what is it?” Somnus replied.

“The noble lords are awaiting to begin council, sire.”

Barely biting back, a groan of irritation Somnus sighed, reaching for the pitcher of water and pouring himself a drink. “Is it not rather early for them to be asking for an audience?”

Gilgamesh remained silent for a moment before responding, “….it is 10 o’clock in the morning, your majesty.”

Somnus spluttered and coughed as he accidentally inhaled the water he was currently drinking, which prompted Gilgamesh to immediately enter the room. In a few quick strides, the Blademaster gently clapped his lord on the back until Somnus waved him away, taking in deep breaths once more. “I’ve been sleeping for that long?! Why was I not awoken?” He croaked, spinning to face his Shield with a look of panic and confusion.

“Truthfully, I had believed you to already be awake until I found you missing for our morning spar. One of the servants informed me that you were still resting.”

“Gil I-I’ve been sleeping for most of the morning! I can’t lounge about like some drunkard sleeping off a bender!”

At this, Gilgamesh sighed, “I apologize Somnus, but with the lack of sleep you have been suffering from I thought it appropriate to allow you a time to rest.”

Somnus was about to speak once more though paused, looking away from the inquisitive eyes of his friend and mentor. If he was being honest with himself, it was the most relaxing night of sleep Somnus had in months. He remembered dreaming of a Jabberwock hording a cavern of treasure eating gysahl greens and thieves ridding chocobos across the Causcheery Plains; an image he had no memory of but was a welcomed change from the nightmares. Anything was better than the nightmares….

“Are you alright, Somnus?” Gilgamesh asked once more.

“Y-Yes, I am fine. Tell the noble lords I will be there shortly.”

“Of course, sire. I should also mention they requested that Lady Selene join the meeting as well.”

“Very well then.” He answered, moving toward the wardrobe to prepare for the day while Gilgamesh took his leave. Whoever that servant girl was that sat with him last night, he would be certain to find them.

“You seem tired (f/n), did you not sleep well last night?” Selene asked, having noticed you yawn for the third time now.

“I’m afraid not, Lady Selene; and I seem to now be suffering the consequences.”

A sly smile spread across the blonde priestess’ lips as cerulean eyes gave you a knowing look. “Oh? It wouldn’t happen to be due to your late return from the kitchens would it? Did something occur that had managed to delay your journey?”

You recalled the evening you spent with Somnus in his chambers as he listened to your story and flushed crimson, hoping the Lady Oracle would not notice your reaction. Unfortunately, she did and gasped in surprise and joy at your now red face, “you were with a man, weren’t you?”

“L-Lady Selene!” you cried out in alarm, “it is not what you think. I didn’t- it wasn’t-. M-My virtue was not compromised!”

“(f/n)… being with a man does not mean only keeping his company in an intimate fashion.” Selene explained, rising from her chair and taking hold of your hands in order to calm you down. “I am merely inquiring if you have found a good man with who you wish to spend your time with. Forgive me, if my words have hurt you.”

“No, there is nothing to forgive your Ladyship. And…” you paused, nervously biting your lip before speaking, “the reason for my late return was because I was speaking with a man.”

The joyous smile on Selene’s face could have but the brilliance of the sun itself to shame. “Would you be willing to tell me about him? What is he like? Is he your…beloved?”

The thought of the King of Lucis, who was known for his rather… serious personality, being referred to as your beloved by Lady Selene nearly made you faint. “N-No, nothing like that. I just ran into him upon my return to my chambers and we started talking and I…I told him a story.”

“It seems to me that you enjoyed his company, (f/n).”

“I…I suppose so.” You answered weakly, remembering when Somnus had threatened you with a dagger.

Before either of you could speak, a knock sounded on the door to reveal young Ceres, who bowed in greeting. “Lady Oracle, Lady (f/n); his Majesty and the council is awaiting your arrival.”

“Thank you, Ceres, we’d best not be late then,” Selene spoke, nodding her thanks to the little girl as she walked out of the room.

“A moment, your Ladyship; you mustn’t forget this.” You added cheekily, placing the obnoxious fabric headdress over her long, blonde hair.

“…. I despise this headdress.”

Together, you walked just behind Lady Selene as the two of you journeyed to the Council Room where the two guards opened the doors for you. The open-air room was quite expansive with sheer, decorative drapes hanging from ivory columns with unlit braziers lining the walls. In the middle of the room was an enormous table with most of the seats already filled by the lords of the noble houses within Lucis while their attendant stood behind them. Each man rose to his feet at the arrival of Lady Selene, showing the Oracle the reverence and respect her duty bestowed upon her. However, you couldn’t help but notice that while every seat was filled, one remained empty: the chair belonging to the king himself.

“Lady Selene, thank you for gracing us with your radiant presence.” One of the lords addressed with what he likely believed to be a charming smile that ended up appearing like a slimy grimace.

To Selene’s credit, she reciprocated the look with nothing but a kind smile. “You are too kind, Lord Aldercapt. May I inquire as to where his Majesty is?”

“Late, for a start.” Another of the lords huffed angrily, “it does not do well for a king to appear late to his own council.”

“The responsibilities of a sovereign are numerous and of great import, Lord Leonis. I sincerely doubt his Majesty’s delay was an easily avoidable occurrence.”

Before anyone else could speak, the doors opened once more to reveal Somnus Lucis Caelum with Gilgamesh at his side. Everyone stood and bowed to the King of Lucis and seated themselves once more, ready to begin the meeting. You watched nervously as Somnus’ drifted across every person’s face before halting on yours. His eyes widened a mere fraction while you felt the color begin to drain from your face when you realized that he was not aware of your occupation as the Oracle’s attendant....

[vastknowing]

How To Clean Thick Carpets For Different Stains?

Thick carpets make our feet very comfortable, but it is troublesome to clean. Different stains require different methods, and many people may choose oem thick carpet cleaner. For a simple method of removing dust, you can use the cordless rod vacuum cleaner, which is now more popular. For other stains, you need different methods.

 Dust: use cordless rod vacuum cleaner

The fluff of the carpet is easy to accumulate dust, it is a good helper to deal with carpet dust, fruit shells, food residues, etc.

 You can use a cordless rod vacuum cleaner to clean a large area of ​​the carpet, and perform the first step of dust removal; then lift the handheld vacuum cleaner to carefully treat the places where dust is particularly serious, such as under the coffee table, corners, and edges of the bed. The cleaning is easy and thorough.

 Use a vacuum cleaner to clean the carpet must be fixed regularly and consistently. If the dust is left unattended for a long time, the surface of the carpet will be discolored and deteriorated. Once mildew appears, it will be too late to clean.

 find a cordless rod vacuum cleaner manufacturer 

  The working principle of a cordless vacuum cleaner

It is also called a wireless vacuum cleaner. The motor of the vacuum cleaner rotates at a high speed and sucks in air from the suction port to generate a certain vacuum in the dust bucket. The air left in the dust bag or barrel body, the air filtered by the filter enters the motor, and then flows out through the motor. The filter material is generally non-woven, which makes the filter cleaner and easier to clean.

 The biggest advantage of a cordless vacuum cleaner is that it can be carried anywhere, whether it is taken to camping or kept in the car, especially for families with child seats installed in the car. Having a cordless vacuum cleaner helps the family solve a big problem. trouble.

 For different stains, carpet cleaning methods

Pet odor

Add 4 cups of vinegar to 4 warm water, soak with a towel and wring dry, wipe.

  Oily

Choose gasoline and washing powder to mix and apply evenly on the oil stains. After one night, wash them with warm water.

  Tea stains/coffee stains

Remove with glycerin, or use a dry cloth or facial tissue to absorb the water, then mix the same amount of white wine and alcohol on the stains, and wipe off with a dry cloth.

  Broken glass

Use a wider tape to stick up the broken glass: if the broken glass is powdery, you can stick it up with cotton dipped in water, and then use a vacuum cleaner.

  Paint

Use gasoline and washing powder together to make a porridge, apply to the paint at night, and wash with warm water the next day.

  Ketchup

Dip the sponge with cold water and wipe with detergent solution or citric acid oxygen cleaner.

  Scorch

When it is not serious, use a hard-bristled brush or nickel coin to brush off the burnt part

 Carpet cleaning of different materials

Wool carpet professional cleaning in the laundry

Pure cotton carpets directly into the washing machine to clean

Leather carpet, shake with talcum powder and then shake it off

Fiber carpet, sift out the dirt and clean it up

 A thick carpet cleaner can reduce the burden of cleaning work. There are many styles of it. You can choose cordless or handheld. No matter which one it is, it will alleviate the trouble of cleaning thick carpets.

[thumbgarden]

Apple ermine moth: How to control the pest

Apple ermine moth is also known as Yponomeuta malinellus. this is a winged leafworm, or as our grandmother called it, a leafroller moth. These silvery-white moths are small, with a wingspan of only 0.8inch (2cm). In most parts of the country, this pest has been very successful in attacking fruit trees. Often, the plants are attacked so severely that their normal development stops completely. The apple tree (if that is what is meant) has almost 90%, if not all, of its ovaries immediately reset, and the most unpleasant are the buds generated, that is, those that must bloom and give next year's harvest. The method of controlling the Apple ermine moth is explained in our article.

WHAT IS HARMFUL - BUTTERFLIES OR CATERPILLARS? Indirect harm is caused by Apple ermine moth laying eggs, but tangible harm is caused by caterpillars, in addition to apple trees, with the pleasure, literally, of destroying the harvest of Flowering quince and pears. The caterpillar has a yellow color and a pair of black, tar-like dots. Its body is only 0.6inch (1.5cm) long and has a fairly reliable shield to protect it from returning cold. Once the weather warms up and the re-emerging cold becomes unaffected, the caterpillar cleverly disengages itself from this shield and begins to "chop" the leaves. It actively absorbs the mass of the leaf, forming a kind of nest or woven web around its dislocation. In this nest, just like at home, Apple ermine moth caterpillars feed on the green matter and, once depleted, move on so that swarms of caterpillars can destroy all the green matter on these plants. Most interestingly, one caterpillar of the Apple ermine moth feeds almost continuously for forty days without interruption. During this time, even one caterpillar of a two or three-year-old apple sapling will leave it leafless, and if there are a hundred caterpillars, it will leave an absolutely mature tree. After eating their fill, the caterpillars pupate in their nests and then turn into Apple ermine moths, and only 10-12 days after turning into butterflies, they will be ready to make new eggs, sometimes consisting of a record number of eggs - as many as 70. To protect them from birds, they are covered with a sticky substance, a special compound secreted exclusively by the Apple ermine moth. Later, if the caterpillars hatch without anything to eat, they hide under this sticky mass, where they wait for the whole winter. Usually, this moth lays its eggs on the bark of the thinnest branches on the tree.

APPLE ERMINE MOTH DAMAGE TO TREES It's great that the most intense plant damage occurs, culminating in the tree standing completely bare and still entangled in spider webs. In this case, photosynthesis is completely eliminated, there are no leaves, and the root system is effectively suppressed. Naturally, the plant completely stops absorbing carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen, loses up to 90% of its immunity, and dies easily in winter. In particular, plants that are often attacked by the Apple ermine moth for several seasons in a row become extinct, gradually weakening their immunity and eventually reducing it to almost zero. The stage of Apple ermine moth infestation can be any. This pest can attack trees when they are seedlings when they are young when they are large adults, or even on the mother plant in a nursery.

Important note: Moths can easily travel long distances in any container, whether it is a box of vegetables or fruit.

In general, the Apple ermine moth is a very dangerous pest and must be controlled.

CONTROL METHODS OF APPLE ERMINE MOTH

1. Biological agents and insecticides for the control of Apple ermine moth Let's start with the algorithm of treatment with biological agents and insecticides. So, let's take apple trees as an example: these plants usually finish flowering in mid-May (although it depends on what kind of spring it is). During this period, the caterpillars of the Apple ermine moth are in their most vulnerable state and have access to almost all insecticides. Then you should not hesitate to start fighting them. But before spraying the plants with chemicals, you must check, and only if you find a large accumulation of Apple ermine moth (very voracious, as we found out), you can start treating it.

Important! There is no selective treatment. The plant must have access to the entire contents of the product - no exceptions. If the caterpillars miraculously survive, they move on to the next untreated tree.

But even the elimination of insects and their larvae is not as difficult as the elimination of oviposition of the Apple ermine moth. Usually, for this purpose up to three treatments with preparations (containing paraffin), such as "Diflubenzuron" (but if the ovaries are small, you can limit yourself to a few treatments). There are also biological combinations. For example, the "preparation of bacillus" was tested on the basis of the author's own experience. It is necessary to dissolve 100 grams of this preparation in a bucket of water and treat infected plants as soon as the air warms up to 60-62 °F (16-17 ° C) above zero. Undoubtedly, the advantage of biological agents is that, as we know, they are completely safe for humans and can be treated, in fact, in unlimited quantities, until the pest is completely eliminated. This is important in this case because the death period of Apple ermine moth caterpillars can sometimes be up to a week after treatment. However, this is also a disadvantage - not everyone is patient enough to wait for the death of this dangerous insect for almost a week after the treatment.

Therefore, especially impatient people should use approved insecticides, but strictly follow the instructions on the package and use "Diazinon insecticide" to combat the caterpillars of the Apple ermine moth if they are just "stroking" the tree. In addition, in cases where a large number of trees are affected, "New Phosphorus Organic Insecticide" can be used." What are the advantages of the "new phosphorus organic insecticide"? It has a gentler effect on the green canopy and does not leave chemical burn marks on the leaf discs. This drug can easily replace organochlorine compounds and up to 75% of Apple ermine moth caterpillars will be eliminated. It is a big misconception to remove the spider's encrustation prior to treatment with this agent. This envelope does not prevent the preparation from entering the caterpillar's nest, as it only serves as a formidable defense against predators thinking that a large-sized spider lives there, but it has no power over the poison.

2. Additional fertilization in conjunction with drug treatment It is possible and necessary to feed the plants at the same time as the dance moth control or to give them strength and increase their immunity by alternating treatments. Usually use nitroglycerin dissolved in water in the amount of one tablespoon per bucket, it is taken to 2-3 liters per tree up to 5 years old, more than 5 years - 5-6 liters, one bucket is enough or several adult plants or four to five young plants. If there is no nitroglycerin, you can dilute 1.5 tablespoons of urea in a bucket of water, and this solution treats the crown protrusions (leaves), which is carried out so-called foliar spraying. Immediately thereafter, the soil should be watered, one bucket under plants less than 5 years old and two buckets under older plants.

Attention! Change insecticides as often as possible, even if they are strong. It is possible that the Apple ermine moth adapts to the given insecticide and even has the opposite effect, i.e. accelerates its reproduction.

It is not necessary to increase the dose - just switch to another preparation, no less strong, with the same strict adherence to the dose and duration of treatment. As for Apple ermine moth, they usually do not get used to them and only one treatment is needed to eliminate them during their flight period. As for the caterpillars, sometimes as many as five or six treatments are required to eliminate them completely.

3. But what if you don't use chemicals? There is no doubt that insecticides are effective, but no one cancels their high toxicity. Take "persistent broad-spectrum insecticide" for example, it is allowed to treat only once a year, so this preparation is toxic. So what to do? There is always a way, for example, you can use the so-called mechanical method to fight the Apple ermine moth. the method itself is simple, but of course, requires some effort and time. To do this, you have to take a scraper, walk through the garden, remove all the shields planted by the Apple ermine moth, under which you will reliably conceal the ovipositor and burn them. This takes more time than effort. Also, in early spring and September, try hosing down trees and leaves to create the strongest water pressure and simply crush Apple ermine moth caterpillars on the ground. It is also possible to collect (rather than prune off) all diseased leaves with Apple ermine moth caterpillars, which can certainly be done on young, not too tall trees, or if you only have one or two trees in the garden, use ladders and steps. This is effective during and at the end of the active flowering period. All collected material must be burned, preferably in a small digging trench outside the plot. Sometimes it helps to apply a dispersion solution of almost any mineral oil to the shoots and central trunk during the opening of the buds to deal with the Apple ermine moth.

The use of traps for the fight is also effective. Of course, pheromone traps with sticky bases are placed in the area, to which moths stick (these are mainly male specimens of Apple ermine moth that fly towards the scent of the so-called females). Certain parts of the efficiency possess ultraviolet radiation of the light trap. In the light of this trap, the moths fly away voluntarily, with a thin network in front of the "lantern", which is under voltage and accumulates during the day from the solar cells. A small secretion is enough to kill an Apple ermine moth of any sex. If you don't want to spend the extra money, you can also make a bait-type trap yourself. To do this, you will need moisture-resistant cardboard and a piece of plywood. The board should necessarily be painted yellow - a signal to the moth - and then simply coated with glue for mice that will not dry. apple ermine moth flies to the signal, sticks, and dies. You can also make or buy a capture tape; you should wrap it around the trunk of a tree; it is best to take sticky tape because caterpillars and bulky moths stick to it.

4. Natural enemies of Apple ermine moth Apple ermine moth also has natural enemies that live in the garden - it is mainly insects: frass flies, wasps - which parasitize the caterpillars of moths, that is, lay eggs on them. But thanks to the use of pesticides in the garden, this "magical" parasite is now almost impossible to find. The not-so-bad enemy of the Apple ermine moth is also the birds, for whom it is like a feast, but the birds are shy and get full rather quickly. Therefore, in order to attract them to the garden and reassure them, it is necessary to hang at least one nest per hundred square meters, not more, otherwise, there will be competition for territory.

5. Folk methods of Apple ermine moth control Let's choose the most effective folk measures to control the Apple ermine moth. so, bitter peppers, straight out of bed. You must grind the pods into the smallest parts, put on goggles and rubber gloves, then pour a liter of water and boil this explosive mixture for an hour. After that, you have to put it in a tightly closed container for a day. After that, strain the resulting decoction well, trying not to let them get into your eyes, and pour it into any container, but preferably glass, so that you can see what is inside.

These containers must then be closed tightly and placed in the refrigerator with any deterrent labels glued on (God forbid, a child would swallow it and there would be screams). To prepare a working solution, you must take half a liter of pepper concentrate and add half ahead of laundry soap as a sticker. And use this magic potion to treat the plant. The second version is fly ash; you have to soak 100 grams of fly ash in a bucket of water for about a week, stirring occasionally, and then treat the affected plants. Try it and see if you like it; it turns out that folk remedies may be more effective than insecticides. And share your experience with us in the comments of the article.

#ThumbGarden #GardeningTips #Apple #Fruits #Orchard #erminemoth #Howtogrow #Pests #Tips #Why #What #Howto #Trees #Garden #Largegarden #Mediumgarden #Smallgarden #Outdoorgarden #Plantcare #Techniques #Inspired #Treatment

Author: Ms.Geneva Link: https://www.thumbgarden.com/apple-ermine-moth/ Source: ThumbGarden The copyright belongs to the author. For commercial reprints, please contact the author for authorization, and for non-commercial reprints, please indicate the source.

[dfroza]

there is no fear in Love

because Love has not given us a spirit of fear. and we see this clear in Paul’s 2nd Letter to Timothy in its first chapter for Today’s reading of the Scriptures:

[Introduction]

From Paul, an apostle of Jesus the Messiah, appointed by God’s pleasure to announce the wonderful promise of life found in Jesus, the anointed Messiah.

My beloved son, I pray for a greater release of God’s grace, love, and total well-being to flow into your life from God our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ!

You know that I’ve been called to serve the God of my fathers with a clean conscience. Night and day I pray for you, thanking God for your life! I know that you have wept for me, your spiritual father, and your tears are dear to me. I can’t wait to see you again! I’m filled with joy as I think of your strong faith that was passed down through your family line. It began with your grandmother Lois, who passed it on to your dear mother, Eunice. And it’s clear that you too are following in the footsteps of their godly example.

[Timothy and the Holy Spirit]

I’m writing to encourage you to fan into a flame and rekindle the fire of the spiritual gift God imparted to you when I laid my hands upon you. For God will never give you the spirit of fear, but the Holy Spirit who gives you mighty power, love, and self-control. So never be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor be embarrassed over my imprisonment, but overcome every evil by the revelation of the power of God! He gave us resurrection life and drew us to himself by his holy calling on our lives. And it wasn’t because of any good we have done, but by his divine pleasure and marvelous grace that confirmed our union with the anointed Jesus, even before time began! This truth is now being unveiled by the revelation of the anointed Jesus, our life-giver, who has dismantled death, obliterating all its effects on our lives, and has manifested his immortal life in us by the gospel.

[Paul and His Gospel Ministry]

And he has anointed me as his preacher, his apostle, and his teacher of truth to the nations. The confidence of my calling enables me to overcome every difficulty without shame, for I have an intimate revelation of this God. And my faith in him convinces me that he is more than able to keep all that I’ve placed in his hands safe and secure until the fullness of his appearing.

Allow the healing words you’ve heard from me to live in you and make them a model for life as your faith and love for the Anointed One grows even more. Guard well this incomparable treasure by the Spirit of Holiness living within you.

Perhaps you’ve heard that Phygelus, and Hermogenes and all the believers of Asia have deserted me because of my imprisonment. Nevertheless, so many times Onesiphorus was like a breath of fresh air to me and never seemed to be ashamed of my chains. May our Lord Jesus bestow compassion and mercy upon him and his household. For when he arrived in Rome, he searched and searched for me until he found out where I was being held, so that he could minister to me, just like he did so wonderfully as I rested in his house while in Ephesus, as you well know.

May Jesus, our Master, give him abundant mercy in the day he stands before him.

The Letter of 2nd Timothy, Chapter 1 (The Passion Translation)

and a song about trusting in Love that overcomes fear as track #4 on the album Vulnerability by Strahan

and in Today’s paired chapter of Exodus 27 we read further instructions given to Moses about building the Sanctuary (the Tabernacle) in the wilderness:

[The Altar]

“Make an Altar of acacia wood. Make it seven and a half feet square and four and a half feet high. Make horns at each of the four corners. The horns are to be of one piece with the Altar and covered with a veneer of bronze. Make buckets for removing the ashes, along with shovels, basins, forks, and fire pans. Make all these utensils from bronze. Make a grate of bronze mesh and attach bronze rings at each of the four corners. Put the grate under the ledge of the Altar at the halfway point of the Altar. Make acacia wood poles for the Altar and cover them with a veneer of bronze. Insert the poles through the rings on the two sides of the Altar for carrying. Use boards to make the Altar, keeping the interior hollow.

[The Courtyard]

“Make a Courtyard for The Dwelling. The south side is to be 150 feet long. The hangings for the Courtyard are to be woven from fine twisted linen, with their twenty posts, twenty bronze bases, and fastening hooks and bands of silver. The north side is to be exactly the same.

“For the west end of the Courtyard you will need seventy-five feet of hangings with their ten posts and bases. Across the seventy-five feet at the front, or east end, you will need twenty-two and a half feet of hangings, with their three posts and bases on one side and the same for the other side. At the door of the Courtyard make a screen thirty feet long woven from blue, purple, and scarlet stuff, with fine twisted linen, embroidered by a craftsman, and hung on its four posts and bases. All the posts around the Courtyard are to be banded with silver, with hooks of silver and bases of bronze. The Courtyard is to be 150 feet long and seventy-five feet wide. The hangings of fine twisted linen set on their bronze bases are to be seven and a half feet high. All the tools used for setting up The Holy Dwelling, including all the pegs in it and the Courtyard, are to be made of bronze.

“Now, order the Israelites to bring you pure, clear olive oil for light so that the lamps can be kept burning. In the Tent of Meeting, the area outside the curtain that veils The Testimony, Aaron and his sons will keep this light burning from evening until morning before God. This is to be a permanent practice down through the generations for Israelites.”

The Book of Exodus, Chapter 27 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, April 13 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

[hollywoodjuliorivas]

The Congo River. Credit Christian Ziegler/National Geographic, via Getty Images With Conrad on the Congo River What counts as progress? I traveled to Africa to see what has, and hasn’t, changed since the author’s visit over a century ago. By MAYA JASANOFF AUG. 18, 2017 The smoked monkeys brought the point home. During my first day on a boat on the Congo River, I’d embraced the unfamiliar: how to bend under the rail to fill my wash bucket from the river, where to step around the tethered goat in the dark and the best way to prepare a pot of grubs. But when I saw the monkeys impaled on stakes, skulls picked clean of brains and teeth thrusting out, I looked otherness in the face — and saw myself mirrored back. I was the real exotica: the only tourist to take this boat in nearly a decade, and the only white woman, as far as the crew knew, ever. Expect to be kidnapped, people had warned me. Expect to have everything stolen and expect every arrangement to go awry. Bring your own mosquito net, waterproof everything twice and strap your cash around your ankle. The Democratic Republic of Congo, I read in my guidebook, was “a huge area of dark corners, both geographically and mentally,” where “man has fought continuously against his own demons and the elements of nature at large.” This, in other words, was the heart of darkness, which was why I had wanted to come. More than 100 years ago, a Polish sailor named Jozef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski traveled to Congo to take a job as a steamboat captain on the river. The Congo Free State, as it was then called, had been founded in 1885 under the supervision of King Leopold II of Belgium with the self-declared mission of promoting progress and civilization, free trade and the abolition of slavery. Korzeniowski was supposed to stay for three years, but after just one round-trip on the river, from Kinshasa to Kisangani and back, he quit. Photo Joseph Conrad onboard a ship. Credit Culture Club/Getty Images Behind all the high-minded ideals, he saw a colonial regime of appalling greed, violence and hypocrisy, and he left in despair. He kept a diary of his journey and almost a decade later, in 1899, when he’d settled in England and Anglicized his pen name to Joseph Conrad, he transformed those notes into a novel called “Heart of Darkness.” The book describes a voyage up and down a river in Africa by a British sea captain named Charles Marlow, who is commissioned to fetch a renegade ivory collector called Kurtz. Marlow travels up the river enveloped by a sense of increasing mystery and encroaching danger. Kurtz, Marlow discovers, has become a tyrant in the jungle, his idealistic hopes for spreading European civilization in Africa perverted into a brutal injunction: “Exterminate all the brutes!” Photo A 19th-century depiction of an encampment on the Congo River. Credit Universal History Archive/UIG, via Getty Images The book has been read as many things, from an exploration of the individual psyche to a prophecy of genocide. Most of all, it’s a meditation on progress. Conrad indicted the European imperialists who plundered Congo in the name of progress even while he portrayed Africa, in terms that seem racist today, as irredeemably backward. Continue reading the main story ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story The Democratic Republic of Congo has now been independent for nearly 60 years, almost as long as it was a European colony. Yet it is by any measure one of the world’s most dysfunctional states. Congo’s modern-day Kurtz was the kleptocrat dictator Mobutu Sese Seko, whose ouster in 1997 led to a civil war and some five million deaths. It has one of the lowest per-capita incomes and is ravaged by continuing rebellions in the east, an escalating conflict in the central province of Kasai and a national political crisis: President Joseph Kabila has refused to leave office despite reaching months ago the end of his last term. So what counts as progress? To try to answer that question, I went to Congo last December, to see the places Conrad had seen and take the measure of what has and hasn’t changed since his time. Kisangani, the innermost navigable point Continue reading the main story Continue reading the main story Bumba 100 MILES Congo River REPUBLIC OF CONGO Mbandaka Kisangani GABON DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO AFRICA Brazzaville Area of detail Kinshasa Boma ANGOLA By The New York Times In 1890, Conrad traveled on one of the first steamboats on the Congo River. The Roi des Belges had been constructed in 1887 out of parts imported from Europe, then carried up the rapids on the backs of 1,700 porters and assembled in Kinshasa, the capital then and today. Steamships were the engines of European civilization, bearing merchants, missionaries and militias into Africa’s uncolonized interior. Conrad hated them. More than a century later, with hardly any roads or rails linking most of Congo’s cities and with flights too expensive for nearly all Congolese, boats — belching tugs that push open barges with no facilities — are still the primary way people use to travel between Kinshasa and Kisangani, a commercial hub a thousand miles upstream. If you’re lucky, you can make the upriver journey in four weeks and the downriver journey in two, the same amount of time it took Conrad. I began my trip in Kisangani, the river’s uppermost navigable point and once a crossroads between eastern and central Africa, for the trade in ivory and slaves. In the city center were faded colonial bungalows and crumbling brick factories, interspersed with advertisements for diamond brokers. Not many boats venture so far these days: Fuel costs too much, and there aren’t enough goods to transport. The handful of vessels that were moored along the waterfront when I arrived weren’t leaving for another two weeks at best. But upstream stood one vessel in stately isolation, moored in a private stretch of waterfront. It belonged to Bralima, Congo’s biggest brewery, and was emblazoned with “Primus,” the name of the company’s signature beer brand. Four barges were lashed to the boat, stacked with plastic cases piled into 12-foot-high cubes like crenelations on a castle wall. Primus I was going to pick up some rice in Bumba, deposit the beer in Mbandaka and deliver the rice to Kinshasa. Miraculously, it was leaving the next day. ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story Officially, Bralima doesn’t allow passengers — a dinged-up metal sign disavows company responsibility for any “unauthorized” travelers — so it took a day of negotiation (and a payment) to persuade the captain to take me and my guides, a white expat and a native Congolese. But the next morning at dawn, I scurried on board with at least 80 other people toting stools, sacks, sleeping mats, tarpaulins, buckets and stoves. The first mate showed me to a cabin on the boat proper, whose two tiny decks housed just five cabins, the engine room and the bridge. Photo The vessel we began our journey on, Primus I, belonged to Bralima, Congo’s biggest brewery. Credit Maya Jasanoff As I walked down the barges, maneuvering around bollards, hatch covers, cables and ropes, I felt like I was peering into a series of living rooms. A family gathered around a game of ngola, scooping and dropping seeds in carved hollows on a wooden board. A group of men on low rattan stools were studying the Bible. A young man with a pair of clippers and a bamboo chair unrolled a poster of men’s hairstyles and set to shaving the crew members’ heads. I counted at least two chickens, two ducks and a tufted black mangabey monkey, which scampered around a plastic oil barrel held back by a short strap bound to his left leg with a hair clip; later, I’d discover a live crocodile tied up under the freezer chest. We were underway for only a couple of hours when the pirogues started to come, poled frantically by people trying to catch our boat. They tied up alongside and clambered aboard with wares to sell: deck furniture woven from cane, heavy wooden mortars for pounding manioc, baskets of charcoal for cooking and ngola boards to pass the time. In the diary Conrad kept on the river, he never mentioned whether canoes approached the Roi des Belges. In “Heart of Darkness,” the primary interaction Marlow and his crew have with the people on the banks comes when they’re attacked. As I watched the constant traffic between ship and shore, I saw none of the hostility portrayed in the novel, only interdependence. I suddenly remembered a photograph of the Roi des Belges from 1889, the year before Conrad’s trip, with pirogues tied up alongside, exactly the way I saw them outside my cabin. There’s a famous scene in “Heart of Darkness” where Marlow looks through his binoculars and sees what he thinks are “ornamental knobs” on a palisade around Kurtz’s house. Drawing closer he realizes they are human heads, barbarous trophies of Kurtz’s power. Some historians have suggested that Conrad based this detail on a real-life Belgian colonial official. I think Conrad had closer interactions with the African villages on the river than he ever let on: From what I saw of smoked monkeys, they make a pretty good model. Bumba, which used to be somewhere The Congo River is always changing, as sandbanks morph and shift. Conrad kept a detailed journal of the river as he traveled up, noting landmarks and turns and obstructions, sometimes sketching the profile of a stretch of bank to help him remember. But how to sail the Congo River has barely changed since Conrad’s day. The captain of Primus I showed me his only navigational aid: a crumbling atlas with mimeographed pages containing bird’s-eye sketches of the river, divided into 10-kilometer (about six-mile) legs. In shallow stretches, two men flanked the helm, turning sounding poles in the water to assess the depth, exactly the way they did in Conrad’s time. A third crew member stood on the beer cases on the prow and signaled readings to the captain by punching his fists in the air, like Black Power salutes. Continue reading the main story Photo Approaching Bumba. Credit Maya Jasanoff Thirty-six hours out of Kisangani, Primus I moored at Bumba to stock up on rice. I’d never heard of Bumba before, but in the colonial era, this used to be somewhere: part of a string of stations that drew the country’s economic spine. Upstream I saw rice warehouses, a palm-oil factory and vast sugar works. But the businesses have left, and the factories have shut down. An emblem of what once passed for progress has become a relic. ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story The first order of business for me there — as for any foreigner in any Congolese city — was clearing my presence with the infamous Direction Générale de Migration, charged with monitoring the internal movement of people and goods. That means showing your papers (passport, visa, yellow-fever certificate), which generally means officials finding problems with them, which means finding a solution, which means giving someone “money for beer,” as the local euphemism goes. On a makeshift bulletin board on the wall were pasted dozens of passport pictures of foreigners who’d passed through Bumba over the decades. From one quadrant stared a succession of strong-browed European nuns frozen in black and white; from another peered the spit and image of Sigmund Freud and the browned 1970s Polaroid of a tow-haired little boy. After an hour of hard haggling, my guide bargained the Bumba authorities down from $40 to $20 to let me walk freely through the town. The place felt like the set of a western, the road red dust and every facade like a false front. Small traders set up what passed for shops in the unlit hollows of concrete buildings. There were scarcely any mopeds, let alone cars; just squeaky bicycle taxis with red and yellow crocheted cushions for seats. Continue reading the main story Photo The boat, Primus I, transformed into a bustling, haggling market. Credit Maya Jasanoff One day was enough to get a feel for Bumba, but Primus I stayed for three. All day long men with calves like clubs trotted down planks from bank to barge, balancing one, two, even three 50-kilogram (about 110-pound) sacks of rice across their shoulders and smoking marijuana between runs to dull the pain. When there was a soccer match on, the crew set up a small generator-powered television on the freezer chest. Boys in pirogues sidled up in the dark to watch. Our boat, with its reliable generator, fully functioning motor and more or less reliable schedule, was the most developed thing in sight. River life, a way to get by As we left Bumba, I sat on my stool on the prow, drinking instant coffee mixed into ginger broth, and watched the forest rise again around us. Since Kisangani, the riverbank had been a ceaseless curtain of green, tall and taller, with canopies so majestic they seemed like forests in themselves. Here and there a small village appeared in a clearing, a few thatched huts on stilts — to the eye, no different from the ones I’d seen in 19th-century photos. However basic they looked, though, they were on the vanguard: the one part of the forest linked to the mechanized, urban world, thanks to boats like ours. In front of the Primus sign, Jeanne, the strong-looking woman who served me my tea, had set up a stall of shiny packets of biscuits, AA batteries and small bags of salt — urban luxuries unavailable in the forest — which she sold, at a premium, to the river dwellers in pirogues. Photo A checkerboard on sacks of charcoal onboard Primus I. Credit Maya Jasanoff What seemed like a way to get from here to there was also, I was coming to realize, a way to get by. Most of the people I spoke to had been educated to do one thing, but in an economy without viable wages and jobs, ended up doing whatever else they could find. Jeanne used to study law; now she did washing and cooking on the boat, tended her onboard shop and bought sacks of rice en route to sell in Kinshasa. Nadine, a generous woman with gold-edged teeth, used to work for the central bank but couldn’t live on the pay. On the boat she got up before dawn every day to mix a batter for beignets, which she fried up and sold for breakfast at five cents each. ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story In the midafternoon heat, as I lay on my bunk rereading “Heart of Darkness,” batting away tsetse flies, I had an uneasy sensation that for all that I’d come to Congo to follow Conrad, he’d never felt farther away. “Everything is hateful to me,” he once told a confidante. “Men and things, but especially men.” Yet I was having precisely the opposite experience: On board Primus I, I was becoming part of a dynamic floating village, where things had become familiar and people were becoming friends. Such a rich country, such poor people: That was the universal refrain. One evening I watched the sunset on the prow with members of the crew. The fundamental problem in the country was bad governance, they all agreed. But how to fix it? Some championed radical protests to unseat Mr. Kabila. One person said the problem was lack of infrastructure; another said that even if you built hospitals and roads, nobody had money for a doctor or a car. One said he wanted the Belgians to come back because they actually invested in the country. Another reminded him that the Belgians pillaged, too. From Mbandaka to Kinshasa, the last leg On the 10th day we reached Mbandaka, the biggest town between Kisangani and Kinshasa. It would take at least a day and a half to unload the beer, so I checked into a hotel for a night, hoping for a brief reunion with tap water. The Nina River Hotel, Mbandaka’s best, was well situated on the river bank and had a swimming pool and a dining room with red upholstered chairs and chandeliers. Posted rate: $350 a night. But there was no water in the hotel, and electricity only between 6 p.m. and midnight. Continue reading the main story Photo The Congo River. Credit Alex Majoli/Magnum Photos I took a walk down the riverfront road, past a market of thatched stalls tumbling down the muddy slope and street vendors in the shadow of colonial bungalows, when I spotted something startling. Behind a whitewashed wall stretched a shipyard for Onatra, the national transport agency, and on the grassy bank sat the rusted-out hulls of four or five old steamers. I approached a group of men sitting in the shade outside the office and asked to have a closer look. One of them led me to the craft that had caught my eye. The Yanonge, he explained, was a wood-fired, stern-wheel paddle steamer built in 1928 from pieces cast in Hoboken, Belgium, and assembled in Kinshasa. It had a 250-horsepower engine and traveled at nine kilometers (about six miles) per hour, the same speed as the faster boats now. It had electricity, showers, a kitchen and refrigeration. I’d never imagined I would see something so similar to Conrad’s Roi des Belges, and the feeling of proximity to the past was electrifying. And then, just beyond the hull of the Yanonge, I saw the passenger boats of today, so overcrowded and so squalid they look like refugee camps. Conrad was rightly skeptical about imperial promises of progress. I left the shipyard sickened by a hideous realization: Measured in relative terms, most people in Congo were probably better off 100 years ago. We left Mbandaka the next day for the last leg of the journey. I sat outside Nadine’s place while she cooked dinner and talked to her mother, a jowly lady who never smiled. Nadine’s mother had been traveling up and down the river since she was 18. ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story What are the biggest differences between boats then and boats now? I asked. “These aren’t boats,” she said. “Then, there were boats, with cabins, restaurants. This” — she paused — “this isn’t a boat, where everyone sleeps under the stars.” I asked her if the river had changed. “The river hasn’t changed.” I asked her if the forest had changed. “The forest hasn’t changed.” But, I hazarded, it was a lot taller closer to Kisangani than it is here. Has it always been like that? “The forest hasn’t changed.” Early the following morning we entered the deep, narrow stretch of the river that runs straight down to Kinshasa. There were no more pirogues; villages now had huts with walls and solid roofs. The forest had thinned out, and I could see how, if you traveled upriver, as Conrad had, you might imagine it closing in around you. Yet the river itself would widen, I now knew, and the more time you spent on it, the more you might feel the deepening warmth of familiarity, and human contact, in place of Conrad’s alienation. That, to me, was progress. Maya Jasanoff is a professor of history at Harvard and the author of the forthcoming “The Dawn Watch: Joseph Conrad in a Global World.” Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook and Twitter, and sign up for the Opinion Today newsletter.