#at his presence and instruct him to stand apart‚ is deeply affecting. it makes you wonder how Karloff's own self image fared (the script

[fragmentedshards]

The Final Curtain, Chapter Eight

The New Case

-

The next morning began - as, presumably, all mornings would now begin - with Matilda's singing voice echoing through the whole of the servants' quarters. It seemed the new maid was an earlier riser than the rest.

Her singing voice was unremarkable but by no means unpleasant, and she seemed to have a full repertoire of lyrics at her disposal to accompany her morning activities. Matilda had risen early, washed, dressed, and begun her chores while the rest of the Phantomhive staff was still shaking cobwebs from their brains. When Sebastian - who, as per the usual, had not slept that night - entered the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast for the earl, he found Matilda adding the finishing touches to the young master's meal, and that she had taken the liberty of making a plain but substantial breakfast for all of the servants.

"Good morning, Mr. Sebastian," she piped cheerily as the astonished butler entered the kitchen. "Help yourself to breakfast." she gestured at the corner of the table, where Sebastian found nine plates of crispy bacon, fried eggs, and a slice of toast each, as well as a large teapot and nine steaming cups of tea. His jaw dropped momentarily in his surprise.

"We all need our strength to serve the young master as best we can, yes?" she asked the butler, seeming to read his surprise as insulting. "It's hard work, keeping up an estate like this.

Don't worry though, I didn't lose any time over making us breakfast. I grew up on a farm, remember? I can do this in no time, even in my sleep. Oh, and I brought my own teapot and cups when I came here; I didn't use the master's set."

The rest of the servants, including Paula and Agni, began walking through the door to the kitchens, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the meal prepared for them. They ate hungrily from their respective plates, thanking Matilda for preparing the food, Tanaka even embracing his granddaughter as he complimented her skill. Sebastian recovered from his initial shock, taking several bites from his plate for the sake of manners and taste, then inquired, "I see there are two untouched plates of food. One is obviously yours; for whom is the other?"

"The Phantomhive footman, of course," Matilda replied, garnishing the breakfast trays she was preparing for the earl and his guests with a different flower for each person. "I met him this morning in the greenhouse; I daresay he's a new addition?" she picked up a tray with a white rose; apparently, the young master's breakfast tray. "Should I take this to the earl myself, or is that your job?" she asked Sebastian.

The butler came unacceptably close to stuttering before answering that he would take it up to the earl, Agni would take Prince Soma's tray, Paula would take Lady Elizabeth's tray, and Matilda could take the two trays to Lau and Ran Mao. Footman?, he thought to himself, his mind racing momentarily until he remembered Snake. The young master rarely made use of his

footman, having only taken him on in the first place out of a fiercely-denied sense of guilt. The entire Phantonhive household had all but forgotten about Snake.

Sebastian quickly recovered and looked at the different flowers on each tray. "A white rose for the master, a pink peony for Lady Elizabeth, a marigold for Prince Soma, an orchid for Lau, and a camellia for Ran Mao. How very clever of you, Matilda. I must compliment you on your creativity."

Matilda beamed at him as she hurriedly consumed half of her breakfast and picked up Lau and Ran Mao's breakfast trays, and all but skipped out of the kitchens. Sebastian watched her and listened absently to the other servants babbling about how fortunate they were to have Matilda working alongside them. He himself was not quite convinced. There was something off about the new maid; he could smell it in her blood. The butler took a deep breath and made his way to the earl's bedroom. He could further investigate the Matilda situation later, but right now he had to remind the young master about Snake.

~

When Sebastian entered the earl's bedroom, the earl himself was already awake and pacing back and forth in his nightclothes. This was unusual for the boy earl, who ordinarily slept as late as he could before Sebastian would wake him and remind him of the day's responsibilities. Ciel hardly regarded the butler as he entered, placed the breakfast tray on the nightstand, and began making the bed while explaining the food on the tray, as per his usual behavior. The boy was too preoccupied with last night's letter from the Queen. He read it and reread it, searching for some type of hidden message or clue that would bring more understanding to the matter, but had found nothing when Sebastian finally caught his attention.

"I beg your pardon, Young Master," the butler spoke with a slightly irregular tone. "But I am afraid we have forgotten about Snake."

"What, the footman from the circus?" Ciel asked, though he knew the answer perfectly well. He furrowed his brows in a momentary grimace. "I haven't forgotten about him, I simply have no practical use for him. At least not while he is always covered in snakes. Why are you telling me this?"

"It seems Matilda met him this morning," Sebastian explained. "I thought it best to remind you of the young man's presence here at the estate."

"Yes, well," the earl brushed off his butler's words. "That is irrelevant. I have too much to think about regarding this letter from the Queen to bother with a circus freak."

Sebastian took a few steps closer to Ciel. "If I may," he began. "What about this letter is so puzzling?"

"Everything," Ciel answered. "She gives me very explicit instructions, but they are simultaneously vague. She warns of threats she cannot describe." he shook his head and placed the letter on the bed. "Dress me, Sebastian. It is time I address my guests again."

~

Lau, Ran Mao, Prince Soma, and Lady Elizabeth conversed in low voices in the drawing room, awaiting Ciel's arrival. When the door opened and the young earl entered, everyone fell silent and merely stared at him. He glowered back at them.

"Stop that. You look like you are gawking at a menagerie attraction." he barked at them. Inhaling deeply and standing so that everyone could view him easily, Ciel began to elucidate the

Queen's letter to the best of his ability.

"Last night you witnessed me receive this letter from our queen," he began. "I confess I am somewhat vexed by it, given its paradoxical nature. Queen Victoria first tells me that I must continue to house all of you here. According to her, there has been an attack on the Midford estate-" he paused as Elizabeth gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, "As well as what she calls racially-motivated crimes throughout London. Apparently this is primarily affecting people such as Lau and Soma, so it appears I continue to suffer you lot to stay here."

Ciel paused again and glanced around the room. Apart from Elizabeth's surprise, there was no visible reaction from the rest of the guests, so the earl continued as Sebastian and Matilda entered with a tea tray. "She further expresses her concern regarding a certain ballet troupe in London, and its connection to a rival toy company. She does not elaborate on the nature of this concern at all, merely entreating us to attend the ballet and keep our eyes peeled for unusual activity." He held up a handful of tickets. "As such, it appears we will be attending a ballet tonight. Prepare accordingly; we will make the journey into London as soon as possible so we may investigate before the show as well."

Matilda gave Lady Elizabeth a cup of tea and gently patted her shoulder, a gesture for which the fourteen-year-old girl was visibly grateful. "Are the Queen's concerns potentially related to the attack on my home?" she asked worriedly.

"It is unclear from the letter, although she does mention in the postscript that the attack was unsuccessful and your family remains safe," Ciel answered his cousin. "I expect I ought to have mentioned that before. Are there any more questions?"

Instantly there was a clamor of voices from each of the guests, and Ciel did his best to decipher the separate questions. At last he held his hand up, an action the guests correctly assumed to mean silence, and took a teacup from Sebastian.

"The prima ballerina with this troupe is a woman named Bryony Redruth," Ciel informed them, taking a sip of his tea with a scowl on his face. He furrowed his eyebrows once more. "A common, disgustingly rural name, if you ask me. She is most likely the suspect in this case, though of course we have no way of knowing. It may be best for some of us to watch her closely during the ballet, while the others observe other possible suspects." he took another sip of his tea. "As for my supposed rival toy company, my guess is that the Queen is referring to Kurios Toy Emporium. I have actually been meaning to meet with the two sisters who run the company to see how they would feel about collaborating on a new product. They create miniature steam- powered mechanical toys - they branded them curios - made so that children can take them apart and rebuild them in different ways. Frankly, I think their ideas are ingenious. I cannot understand why the Queen has involved them in this case, but I expect we shall find that out soon enough. Now then, it is time we finished our preparations and departed." He added under his breath; “I hope this isn’t like that stupid circus.”

With that, the earl set his teacup down on the nearest table and left the room. His guests, after several bewildered glances at each other, followed suit, leaving only Sebastian and Matilda in the drawing room collecting cups. Noticing the odd look on the maid's face, the demon butler inquired as to what was wrong.

"Bryony Redruth," Matilda repeated the name. "I may be mistaken, but I think I know this girl."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the maid, but said nothing more.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for September 15 of 2021 with Proverbs 15 and Psalm 15, accompanied by Psalm 88 for the 88th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 108 for day 258 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 15]

[Wisdom Far Better than Wickedness]

Respond gently when you are confronted

and you’ll defuse the rage of another.

Responding with sharp, cutting words will only make it worse.

Don’t you know that being angry

can ruin the testimony of even the wisest of men?

When wisdom speaks, understanding becomes attractive.

But the words of the fool make their ignorance look laughable.

The eyes of the Lord are everywhere

and he takes note of everything that happens.

He watches over his lovers,

and he also sees the wickedness of the wicked.

When you speak healing words,

you offer others fruit from the tree of life.

But unhealthy, negative words do nothing but crush their hopes.

You’re stupid to mock the instruction of a father,

but welcoming correction will make you brilliant.

There is prosperity in the house of the righteous,

but the house of the wicked is filled with trouble,

no matter how much money they have.

When wisdom speaks, revelation-knowledge is released,

but finding true wisdom in the word of a fool is futile.

It is despicable to the Lord

when people use the worship of the Almighty

as a cloak for their sin,

but every prayer of the righteous is pleasing to his heart.

The Lord detests the lifestyle of the wicked,

but he loves those who pursue purity.

Severe punishment awaits the one

who turns away from the truth,

and those who rebel against correction will die.

Even hell itself holds no secrets from the Lord God,

for before his eyes, all is exposed—

and so much more the heart of every human being.

The know-it-all never esteems the one who tries to correct him.

He refuses to seek good advice from the wise.

[Living an Ascended Life]

A cheerful heart puts a smile on your face,

but a broken heart leads to depression.

Lovers of God hunger after truth,

but those without understanding

feast on foolishness and don’t even realize it.

Everything seems to go wrong

when you feel weak and depressed.

But when you choose to be cheerful,

every day will bring you more and more joy and fullness.

It’s much better to live simply,

surrounded in holy awe and worship of God,

than to have great wealth with a home full of trouble.

It’s much better to have a meal of vegetables surrounded with love and grace

than a steak where there is hate.

A touchy, hot-tempered man picks a fight,

but the calm, patient man knows how to silence strife.

Nothing seems to work right for the lazy man,

but life seems smooth and easy when your heart is virtuous.

When a son learns wisdom,

a father’s heart is glad.

But the man who shames his mother is a foolish son.

The senseless fool treats life like a joke,

but the one with living-understanding makes good choices.

Your plans will fall apart right in front of you

if you fail to get good advice.

But if you first seek out multiple counselors,

you’ll watch your plans succeed.

Everyone enjoys giving great advice.

But how delightful it is to say the right thing at the right time!

The life-paths of the prudent lift them progressively heavenward,

delivering them from the death spirals

that keep tugging them downward.

The Lord champions the widow’s cause,

but watch him as he smashes down the houses of the haughty!

The Lord detests wicked ways of thinking,

but he enjoys lovely and delightful words.

The one who puts earning money above his family

will have trouble at home,

but those who refuse to exploit others

will live in peace.

Lovers of God think before they speak,

but the careless blurt out wicked words meant to cause harm.

The Lord doesn’t respond to the wicked,

but he’s moved to answer the prayers of the righteous.

Eyes that focus on what is beautiful bring joy to the heart,

and hearing a good report

refreshes and strengthens the inner being.

Accepting constructive criticism

opens your heart to the path of life,

making you right at home among the wise.

Refusing constructive criticism shows

you have no interest in improving your life,

for revelation-insight only comes as you accept correction

and the wisdom that it brings.

The source of revelation-knowledge is found

as you fall down in surrender before the Lord.

Don’t expect to see Shekinah glory

until the Lord sees your sincere humility.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 15

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Voice)

[Psalm 88]

For the worship leader. A song of the sons of Korah accompanied by dance. A contemplative song of Heman the Ezrahite.

O Eternal One! O True God my Savior!

I cry out to You all the time, under the sun and the moon.

Let my voice reach You!

Please listen to my prayers!

My soul is deeply troubled,

and my heart can’t bear the weight of this sorrow. I feel so close to death.

I’m like the poor and helpless who die alone,

left for dead, as good as the unknowable sea of souls lying under our feet,

Forsaken by Him and cut off from His hand,

abandoned among the dead who rest in their graves.

And You have sent me to be forgotten with them,

in the lowest pits of the earth,

in the darkest canyons of the ocean.

You crush me with Your anger.

You crash against me like the relentless, angry sea.

[pause]

Those whom I have known, who have been with me,

You have gathered like sheaves and cast to the four winds.

They can’t bear to look me in the eye, and they are horrified when they think of me.

I am in a trap and cannot be free.

My eyes grow dim, weakened by this sickness;

it is taking my strength from me.

Like a worn cloth, my hands are unfolded before You daily, O Eternal One.

Are You the miracle-worker for the dead?

Will they rise from the dark shadows to worship You again?

[pause]

Will Your great love be proclaimed in the grave

or Your faithfulness be remembered in whispers like mists throughout the place of ruin?

Are Your wonders known in the dominion of darkness,

or is Your righteousness recognized in a land where all is forgotten?

But I am calling out to You, Eternal One.

My prayers rise before You with every new sun!

Why do You turn Your head

and brush me aside, O Eternal One?

Why are You avoiding me?

Since the days of my youth, I have been sick and close to death.

My helpless soul has suffered Your silent horrors;

now I am desperate.

Your rage spills over me like rivers of fire;

Your assaults have all but destroyed me.

They surround me like a flood, rising throughout the day,

closing in from every direction.

You have taken from me the one I love and my friend;

even the light of my acquaintances are darkness.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 88

[Psalm 108]

A song of David.

My heart is committed, O God:

I will sing;

I will sing praises with great affection

and pledge my whole soul to the singing.

Wake up the harp and lyre, and strum the strings;

I will stir the sleepy dawn from slumber!

I will stand and offer You my thanks, Eternal One, in the presence of others;

I will sing of Your greatness among the nations no matter where I am.

For Your amazing love soars overhead far into the heavens;

Your truth rises up to the clouds

where passing light bends.

O God, that You would be lifted up above the heavens in the hearts of Your people

until the whole earth knows Your glory.

Reach down and rescue those whom You love;

pull us to safety by Your mighty right hand, and answer me.

God’s voice has been heard in His holy sanctuary:

“I will celebrate.

I will allocate Shechem and the Succoth Valley to My people.

Gilead belongs to Me, and so does Manasseh;

Ephraim is the helmet that protects My head;

Judah is the scepter through which I rule;

Moab is the washpot in which I clean Myself;

I will throw My shoe over Edom in conquest;

Philistia will soon hear My victory shout.”

But who will take me into the fortified city?

Who will lead me into Edom?

Have You not turned Your back on us, O God?

Will You stay away and not accompany our armies, O God?

Help us against our enemy; we need Your help!

It’s useless to trust in the hand of man for liberation.

Only through God can we be successful.

It is God alone who will defeat our enemies and bring us victory!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 108 (The Voice)

[heyymonkey2]

First Night Back in Fuuga Chapter 18: Comfort in His Arms

AO3 Link to Chapter 18

Summary: Yona is at the center of a bittersweet bromance

Warning: Mature content

“And take this,” Jae-Ha hands Hak a small canteen, “...to ease her pain.”

“I’m not gonna encourage the princess to drink when she’s upset.”

“It’s not for that, Little Brother,” Jae-Ha lifts his brows into a telling expression that Hak immediately understands.

Swiping the object from his friend’s hand, “Right. Thanks.”

Jae-Ha watches Hak walk to her tent in the woods, open the cloth door, spilling light into the night, then disappear inside.

To Yun and the dragons close by, “You guys should move your tent a ways over. Give them some privacy. I’ll keep watch that no one’s coming.”

As they all go, Yun eyes Jae-Ha, “Pervert.”

Jae-Ha sighs. It was easier to simply be a pervert before I knew I really loved her.

Hak climbs down next to where Yona sits and pulls her against his broad chest. Yona’s eyes are wide, wet orbs. She closes them in relief. He’s here. She wraps her arms around him. Her man. Don’t go.

They hold and hold, pressed tightly against one another, the smell of the day on them both -- the floral scent of Saika’s garden, the masculine radiance of Jae-Ha’s jacket still on her shoulders, and the fresh presence of Yona’s tears. Hak buries his face into her hair and she lets him. He feels one of her hands creep up to his necklaces, as to verify they’re both still there. He moves a hand over hers and gives it a squeeze. Of course they’re still there.

He pulls back and brushes her crimson locks behind her ears so he can look at her, “Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet... I miss you.”

He smiles encouragingly, “I’m right here.”

“I know…” that’s not it.

He knows what she means. This sucks. They’re together but apart. All the time. That little distance between them feels like miles.

“Stay?”

He’s not sure how long is ok, given their proximity to so many prying eyes. People who’d take any excuse to kill him or even them both. But in his heart... there’s nowhere he’d rather be. He’s waited to be able to be this close to her at a time like this for over half his life.

“For just a little bit longer?” she pleads, separation anxiety rising, “I need you,” both hands cling onto his robe, desperate not to let him go.

I need you. He plays her words over and over in his head as pulls her into his arms, “Are you kidding, Princess? I’m not leaving until you send me away.”

She nuzzles her face against his perfectly-muscled pecks, then lifts her face up and kisses his neck, “How could I ever do that?”

He runs his hands through her hair, his eyes heavy with affection, “After seeing another man down on his knees for you today, I do like reassurance.”

“Oh, Hak,” she runs a hand up to his cheek and pulls his face down to hers, grabbing his lips in a sweet kiss, offering herself to him -- he surprises her with the immediate strength of his return, taking her mouth with a possessiveness that weakens her under him as it kindles an incredible fire in her core. He’s never kissed her quite like this before. Not needy -- telling. His arms wrap around her gently but firm, muscles flexed, she cocooned in his intoxicating jealousy.

She moans and realizes she’s losing herself already -- she pulls away to catch her breath, and make clear, before the topic is completely lost in the night, “You have nothing to worry about.”

Oh but the way he looks at her, “I worry every day,” not taking his eyes off her, he lifts the canteen he brought and slips it into her hands, “Every day since I met you… how troublesome.”

As she looks down at the canteen and tries to calm the heat rising in her cheeks, “I heard. I threw off that nap schedule of yours.”

“Completely ruined it,” he loosens the cap on the canteen for her and nudges her hands to bring it to her lips, “Drink. It’ll soothe some of the pain.”

They’re both practically panting for one another now, but they’re trying to communicate before giving in to their wants.

Pain. Yona eyes where now she's allowed to because she’s his wife -- that incredible place between his legs. Her mouth opens ever so slightly as she begins to think about this powerful, headstrong man helplessly aroused for her...

Hak tries to slow what’s becoming inevitable, encourages her to drink more, distracts, “What happened tonight? ...I’m your husband now, I need to know.”

Ooo that possessiveness again. Yona breathes deeply to steady. That’s right, no longer just her bodyguard and friend. Though he would’ve wanted to know back then, too. But now… all the more, everything that happens to her happens to him, as well. They are entwined. Yona tips back more of the strong liquid, her attitude tonight completely reactionless to the burn on her throat. She’ll take it. There are things that hurt far worse right now.

“We encountered a lost family from Kai, fleeing the war.”

Hak immediately knows what that would have meant to her. He’s a former war general, after all -- a master of the chessboard of Kouka. And, to the same level of skill, the princess’ heart for her people.

“Are they OK?”

She drinks again, “Zeno took them to Tae-Jun.”

Hak pushes air out of his nostrils as he looks to the side in an “of course” sorta way. Yona squeezes his hand, changing the subject, “You didn’t sleep well last night?”

He doesn’t want to get into that, “Did you?”

She shakes her head, “Even if I try not to think about it… every second I’m anxious about this war.”

He puts a hand on the canteen to stop her, “That’s enough,” he sets it to the side, “I know you. You’re going, no matter what anyone says. But whatever happens there, it is not your fault.”

Her face creases in self-anger at her inability to believe that.

He sighs and pulls her fully onto his lap, “What can I do--” he traces fingers over the creases on her forehead, “--to keep my wife from getting more wrinkles?”

Yona, totally surprised and semi-offended, breaks into a laugh while smacking his arm, “You always--!”

“I’ve gotta take care of you! I’ve swore to too many times at this point,” he smiles down at her, she beaming love back up at him, “Imagine how much trouble I’d be in if anything happened to you?” he starts counting the liabilities, “The old man would kill me, King Il would meet me with an axe in the afterlife and he doesn’t even touch weapons, the gods would--”

She grabs the collar of his robe and pulls his mouth down onto hers, Jae-Ha’s liquid taking full effect in easing her body… and chasing away every last inhibition. She’s going to have this man -- now.

Jae-Ha stands against a tree in the moonlight, a good distance from Yona’s tent, but not far enough away to miss the sound of her laughter emanating from within it.

How does he do it? Jae-Ha is amazed. She was in such a state just minutes before. He had tried to cheer her up himself, but every attempt returned only silence. She wasn’t trying to be mean, he was sure, she simply was in a stupor. Hak, somehow, can pull her out of those every time.

Then he starts to hear her moaning. Oh. Well, that makes sense. After he’s cheered her up... and I gave them that alcohol for a reason. More moaning. Jae-Ha sighs and looks up at the moon, suddenly trying to distract himself with memories of his own previous escapades. If he can just think about some other woman…

He smiles sadly. This isn't working.

“Princess!” Hak is both thrilled and worried by her intensity. She has him completely disrobed on top and is working her hands to free the rest of him. He’s helping her, but barely keeping up.

“Yona…” she instructs as she licks his abs.

What the hell did Jae-Ha have in that thing? Hak isn’t exactly complaining as he wonders and watches in awe. Yona is now masterfully removing her own clothing. Hak was going to mention that she didn’t need to do this for him, but he picked up along the way here that this clearly was not just for him. And as far as he’s concerned, if she needs something from him… this sort of something… it’s hers.

Her breasts now exposed, he instinctively reaches a hand forward to cup one. She looks down at his erection like a cup of water after a marathon through the desert. Seriously, Jae-Ha, what the hell was that?! Her mouth is on it and she’s sucking. He gasps and starts focusing on breathing, trying not to come quickly. This is amazing. For all the years he’s wanted to make love to her, he never once guessed she’d be this eager about sex.

Yona moans with him in her mouth. She’s quickly fallen in love with this part of him. Not only that it visually fascinates and draws her in, or that it fits inside her so perfectly and hits such elusive places, but most of all because of what it does to him. She can feel him feeling from there. And there are so many times she’s wanted to comfort Hak.

She licks all the way from the base to the tip and takes it from the head into of her mouth once more.

Hak has his hands on her shoulders now, “Wow-whoa... slow down.”

She looks up at him in question with innocent eyes, her mouth glistening wet and his cock gripped in her hands.

“It’s too good... I’ll come,” he’s trying to slow his heart, but her beauty and curiosity aren’t helping.

She smiles mischievously, “What is it you were saying earlier?”

Uh oh. He watches her climb onto him with a naughty little fire in her eyes. She places her hands on his great shoulders, looks down as though assessing a challenge, then slowly lowers herself onto him, letting out a little cry as his cock penetrates her.

Inch by inch she slowly slides down, filling herself with him. He holds his hands on her hips and momentarily loses his mind into his own pleasure. She leans against his hard chest, gasping.

“If it hurts…”

She smiles against him, “You’re so predictable, Hak.”

He twitches inside of her and she moans. He praises into her ear, “All the unpredictability was taken by someone else… Yona.”

With a deep blush, she wraps her arms around his neck further and uses her knees to life her vagina off of him a ways and then to fall back down, pushing him in deeper yet. They both gasp amazement. She giggles despite the pain. Fucking with Hak while fucking trumps everything else.

She begins bouncing more and more on him and he helps with his strong hands on her hips. She watches his arm and ab muscles flex and is wildly turned on. Her moaning is loud and passionate. Hak can’t even keep his own audible pleasure in check. Incredible.

Then their eyes meet and suddenly all the playfulness melts into something more. He grabs her mouth in a wordless I love you, then looks into her eyes again, expressing the deepest I’m yours she’s ever seen, felt, or heard.

Jae-Ha hears their climax, both of them, loud and clear. Newlyweds, he sighs. Hearing them almost makes him want to get married. He’s had his share of great sex. But to anyone who could have beheld the succession of events tonight would know, what just happened between those two was something far more. Soul-moving?

Yona climbs off Hak, a portion of his semen slipping out from inside her and traveling down her thighs. He sees that and thinks about that pregnancy talk again… but tonight is not the night.

He grabs one more kiss from her lips before starting to put his clothes back on. She watches bittersweetly, “You have to go, right?”

As he pulls his pants up, “I promised not until you send me away. But… I’m asking you to.”

She pouts, knowing it’s the right thing, “Jae-Ha keeps telling me it’s only for a little while. Things being like this.”

Hak finishes pulling his outer robe on, “I won’t let this go on much longer.”

“Just touching you… it calms me so much. Just being near… you’ve always kept my nightmares away.”

“I’m never far. And I know that’s not good enough. As your husband, that’s really not good enough.”

She hands him Jae-Ha’s overcoat, “I’m sure he’s cold out there.”

Hak remembers.. Jae-Ha… probably standing right out there.

Yona leans forward and pecks Hak on the lips, “I’m sending you away. Go warm up my Jae-Ha and send him back to me. I’ll be dressed in just a moment.”

“I need to talk with him about something, so I’ll leave Kija outside for a short while. Jae-Ha will be at your side before you know it,” he looks bittersweetly back at her, “You know, he can keep nightmares away, too. If you let him.”

When Hak arrives at Jae-Ha and hands him his overcoat, the green dragon has an impressed smile on his face and is nearly at a loss for words, “...well done.”

“Pervert,” Hak sighs, then, “Come with me.”

Jae-Ha has no idea what’s going on but follows. They swing by the Bunch and send Kija to watch over Yona’s tent. Then Hak walks and walks, leading Jae-Ha much further away from their camp then he would have thought necessary.

“You’re starting to worry me…”

“You can stop worrying. I’m not leading you out into the middle of nowhere to kill you.”

“But the thought crossed your mind, right?”

Hak smiles thoughtfully, sadly, “Kind of the opposite.”

Now Jae-Ha’s really fascinated. Hak stops at a promontory over a lake reflecting the moon and takes a seat on the end. Jae-Ha sits next to him. It’s silent, beautiful.

“Wow, finding a place like this in the middle of the night… is there anywhere you haven’t been, Hak?”

“I’m well-studied more than well-traveled. Remember, I’ve had a impossible princess to look after for a long, long time.”

“I’m guessing she’s why you brought me all the way out here?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Always.”

Hak is silent for a while, unsure how to start. Then finally, without looking at Jae-Ha, “This is gonna sound strange at first, but I’m serious.”

Somehow, Jae-Ha doesn’t need Hak to say another word. A foreboding feeling is creeping.

“I have a favor to ask. You can consider it the most important thing I’ll ever ask of you.”

Why are tears already in my eyes? Jae-Ha wants Hak to stop.

Hak looks down over the lake, then up at the moon. Finally he turns his face, looking Jae-Ha directly in the eyes, “If something happens to me… no, think of it as… if one day the princess cannot stand, please... let her to fall on you.”

“What…” Jae-Ha’s breathing is labored, “...kind of metaphor is that?”

Hak remains serious, “It has to be you.”

Jae-Ha looks around in frustration, then stands. Hak rises, watching him.

“What the hell, Hak. What the HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!?”

Hak doesn’t respond, waits for him to calm down.

“What are you planning?! This is insane… completely insane!”

“There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me like I don’t know what THAT is!”

“You only know a portion of how deep this goes. It has to end now.”

The way Hak finished that sentence silences Jae-Ha for a moment. The depth of pain and hatred there… but--

“Do you love her at all?”

“How can you ask me that?!” now Hak is incredulous.

“You are talking about going off and dying!”

“FOR HER!”

“That’s not what she wants!”

“It's to get her what she needs!”

“Is this the kind of man you are?! You marry a girl, have her fall madly in love with you, then disappear -- but only after making arrangements to pass her to a friend?!”

Hak’s eyes flash but there’s a sadness there so strong that any anger dies on the spot.

Jae-Ha lunges and punches -- smashing Hak across the face, knocking him to the ground. He looks down at his dear friend as he shakes his hand in pain. The sight of him taking the hit like he deserved it… that troubles Jae-Ha very deeply. He extends a hand down to Hak, who takes it. Once up, Jae-Ha pulls him into a hug, embracing him tightly, desperately as if to stop him.

“Don’t you know how much she needs you?”

Hak is almost in tears himself, “She thinks she'll die without me.”

Jae-Ha trembles as he realizes that may be true.

“That’s why I’m asking you… if worst comes to worst, save her.”

Jae-Ha steps back, looking his friend in the eyes seriously, “It’s not up to me, Hak.”

“I know her better than anyone. It has to be you.”

“There are other men who could step in and provide for her far better. Tae-Jun--”

“She doesn’t love him. She cares for him, she does not love him.”

Hak and Jae-Ha hold eyes, the magnitude of that sentence transferring between them. Then Hak finishes it, “Only someone she loves could possibly save her spirit.”

Jae-Ha’s eyes are wide, he’s so mixed up, but all he can manage is what his heart is screaming, “...don’t do it, Hak.”

Hak only looks sad. Regretful. Resolved. Jae-Ha watches him walk away. His dear friend. Little brother. The conversation has ended. He closes his eyes to think. But he can't. There's only pain. Doesn’t that beast know how much he loves him, too?

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

Standing between the two armies eager for battle, Krishna’s exhortation to his friend in dismay was, in essence, this: Why do you hesitate to do what is most natural to you? Why are you so afraid to be yourself? Why are you combating your own temperament, making a mockery of your hard-earned proficiency, and behaving in a manner singularly ill-suited to what you hold dear? Arjuna’s despondency was a consequence of his own sentimentality and hence Krishna inspires him to return to himself, reminding him constantly of his true nature as a warrior. A twenty-first century Krishna would have most certainly appended a proviso to his famous utterance – “Try to excel in the work and path aligned to your nature, even if it is flawed or less glamorous. It is better than following the way of others. You will never feel guilty if you follow your inherent nature.” In that rider, he might well have illustrated the various machinations of society that detracts from the individual the opportunity to stay true to the Self. At every turn in the road of life, people—even with the noblest of intentions—await the slightest of chances to misguide the traveller, gently nudging him away from the inner path. He is expected to tread the beaten track; he is directed to follow the well-known route.

For someone who has relentlessly strayed from the banal passageways leading to predictable endpoints, I faced a profusion of advice and admonition this year from family and friends, badgering me to recognize, nay embrace, the multi-hued, dazzling avenues that would lead me to some goal or achievement or outcome of their choice, which in turn would be hailed by the people of the world as something that perhaps justifies my existence. I’m glad to place on record that all such attempts have failed miserably and I continue to be myself, treading the inward path wholly aligned to my nature. What is particularly memorable is that I did not react to the advice and admonition with anger or arrogance (I must admit that at times I was tempted to flash the middle finger but such murderous thoughts didn’t last long); instead, I quietly accepted it as a gift that is useless to me but given with warmth nevertheless. I smiled at them, not condescendingly, nor artlessly, but with the awareness that nobody is in a better position than I am to evaluate my mind, and therefore any such attempt is bound to fall short – at least in my eyes. Of course, the dark side of this whole business is that my instincts have driven me—often unconsciously—to be more careful around such people – the unsolicited advisors and admonishers; this has translated into the unfortunate measuring of utterances and the calculation of gestures – clearly a deviation from the natural flow of the self. Therefore the informal tête-à-têtes with such people are bound to decline albeit gradually and in not-so-obvious ways.

In my view, friends are those exceptional individuals with whom you can be yourself, in addition to the unmistakable emotional connection. This is both a function of the attitude of the friends—whether they continually judge you or not—and of your own preoccupation with what the world is thinking of you. The less they judge you and the less you agonize over what others’ think, the more comfortable the relationship. As a silent witness I observed some of my close friends moving far away from me and some of my casual acquaintances moving closer, becoming friends. Through this transitory phase, I tried to remain calm and accept the changing reality, which is inevitable. In such instances, I find solace in recollecting memories with old friends of mine whom I hardly get to meet but every time I do, we start from where we left off, even if that was months or years ago.

When I sat down to gather my thoughts on what the year 2017 has meant to me, more than what my ‘achievements’ were, or even what my ‘learning’ was, my mind was forcibly drawn towards where I stand as an individual; my focus was primarily on how I transformed through the course of these twelve months. ‘Achievements’ implies ego; ‘learning’ suggests an unfinished process; but ‘transformed’ connotes a newer, perhaps better, state of being that has already been effected. That said, to record some of the completed tasks and learnt lessons might be valuable for future improvements, and hence I have found it appropriate to archive them here.

My activities in 2017 were largely confined to the following domains: i. Writing, ii. Music, iii. Research, iv. Design, v. Publishing, and vi. Monkey Business (what my friends at Infy would call ‘इत्यादि-इत्यादि’).

I. I wrote some articles/essays and did a fair bit of translation/editing for Prekshaa Journal as well as for my upcoming books. Apart from having two short stories published (in Indian Review and Cha), I also spent some time writing a detailed outline of my first novel. I taught two courses at Bangalore Writers Workshop and was also a judge at the annual Deccan Herald short story competition. (Lesson learned: Working without constant expectations is both pleasurable and profitable; fretting over deadlines and unfinished projects is counterproductive.)

II. I formally dived into the amateur circuit of Carnatic classical music with an hour-long solo violin concert at Chowdiah Memorial Hall in November. Earlier in the year, I played a couple of chamber concerts. (Lesson learned: If playing in your room is tiring and playing in front of your guru is sweat-inducing, playing in front of an audience is in a different league altogether.)

III. This has mostly involved reading some of the important texts of the Hindu tradition, both primary and secondary sources. This has also meant my taking baby steps into the worlds of Sanskrit poetry, ancient Indian polity and law, history, Kannada literature, and the Epics.

IV. I designed close to fifteen books and four album covers, the highlight being the Prekshaa calendar. I also explored a bit in the area of Indic fonts and hopefully will have a breakthrough soon.

V. For all practical purposes, I didn’t write any book in 2017; I only published books (through W.I.S.E. Words Inc., the Indie publishing setup I run along with Dr. Koti Sreekrishna); eight in all: Stories Behind Verses (by Arjun Bharadwaj and Shashi Kiran B N; in collaboration with Prekshaa Pratishtana), பகவ��்கீதை தற்காலத் தமிழில் (by Sripriya Srinivasan), The Song in Pictures (in association with my photographer-friends Anirudh, Anshuman, Divya, Frank, Navneeth, Prathigna, and Skanda), and five anthologies of essays by Prof. M Hiriyanna (a republication of otherwise unavailable classics).

VI. Apart from getting addicted to cryptic crosswords and card magic, I did some voice-acting on stage and voice-over work in the studio. Two short videos produced for Shaale stand testimony to what they’re worth. I signed out of Twitter and LinkedIn. I also spent a few extra hours sorting out my finances. Plus, I started cooking regularly. (Lesson learned: Without all this monkey business, my life will be meaningless.)

It is impossible to write down all the wonderful things I learnt in 2017 but it might be instructive—to my future self, if not anyone else—to document some learnings from my gurus as well as the wonderful artists I had the good fortune of meeting this year:

A. Ever since I was getting ready to perform on stage, my guru Dr. L Subramaniam has been consistently pushing me to improve my art; his focus has entirely shifted from the technical aspect of violin-playing (which was the mainstay during the early years of my lessons with him) and moved to the aesthetic and emotional aspects of music. To give life to every note, to add emotion to every phrase, and to make every performance unique has been his refrain. LS sir has often said: Even if you play for five minutes, it should be something sublime.

B. My entry into Sanskrit poetry and literature has been a direct result of the single-minded prodding, encouragement, and support given to me by Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh. His emphasis on the importance of familiarity with Sanskrit literature and classical art forms of India—particularly dance—for any student of Indian culture has influenced me deeply. Time and again I have felt that any student of Hindu heritage will benefit by embracing the holistic approach as advocated by Dr. Ganesh as opposed to the numerous other approaches, far more seductive in appeal but piecemeal all the same.

C. Dr. S L Bhyrappa made the astute observation that as a novelist and philosopher, instead of getting affected by a certain individual’s actions (often antagonistic in nature), he tends to go deeper into the psyche of that individual—regarding him/her as a character in a story—and analyzes the more fundamental reason that makes him/her behave in the said manner. In another instance, when Dr. Ganesh asked him during an interview, “What in your opinion keeps a relationship going? What truly sustains love?” he replied with a single word: Mārdava (tenderness, gentleness, compassion).

D. Every visit to Dr. S R Ramaswamy’s office room—rather karmabhūmi—in Chamarajpet is equivalent to reading a pile of books; he teaches us so much, not only by his eloquent speech but also by the force of his personality. When a friend of mine inquired about his fragile health condition, he merely said, “From my twentieth year, I realized that I’m just an āgantuka (stranger, guest, visitor) here in this world.” One seldom finds that sort of awareness—not merely in word, but in action as well. The wonderful paradox in SRR’s worldview is that although he feels like a visitor, he toils with the gusto of a landowner!

E. I have learnt so much just by observing Prof. L V Shanthakumari, an epitome of tranquillity. It baffles me how a person can transcend such pain and yet not make any bones about it. Her presence itself is calming and reassuring but not without a healthy dose of humour and wide-ranging discussion. If only our society had more elderly sages like her.

F. During a conversation I had with Mantap Prabhakar Upadhya, he spoke a great deal about the mind of an artiste during performance. He underscored the importance of art leading to self-forgetfulness; unless the artist can become one with the art, the connoisseurs will not get the ultimate experience. He then told me that when he dances, he doesn’t do it for the applause or for appreciation but as a means of washing off his ego.

G. In my interactions with Nirupama and Rajendra, I found unmatched zest for innovation and a relentless pursuit of self-betterment, not just as dancers but also as human beings. I am reminded of an old saying—One can accomplish almost anything for which one has unlimited enthusiasm—whenever I meet them. When there is absolutely no need to do anything different, when the formula works, and when things are going smoothly, and yet you choose to innovate, that is when you become a pioneer.

H. The continual learning from the extended Prekshaa family—it would be gross injustice to use a term like ‘team’ or ‘crew’—is something that I cannot fully put in writing. I have never seen a more selfless bunch of people, always putting the needs of the organization over their own, making mock of their own travails, and creating an atmosphere of riotous fun without ever subtracting from the tasks to be accomplished. To me, this is nothing less than lokasaṅgraha in action.

2017 started off with a celebration of my mother’s sixtieth birthday (in February) with a small get-together and large doses of music. On the occasion, we brought out her book Sixty Years, Sixty Episodes, a collection of interesting anecdotes from various dimensions of her life. By mid-year, our family was going through a terrible phase with the sudden deaths of members of the immediate and extended family. My grandmother, Smt. Malathi Rangaswamy passed away in July at the age of eighty-five. She was perfectly normal even the previous evening—afflicted by neither a fever nor a cold—and the next afternoon, she was gone. To live according to your terms is rare but rarer still is to die according to your terms. Those who knew her surely felt that with her passing, an era had ended. An old school orthodoxy that had its own warmth and beauty in spite of its obvious limitations. A life of rigorous economy and wise investments. A determination that always placed principles before passions; a firmness, even rigidity, that put faith above joys and comforts; motherly love that knew no discrimination; and benevolence that knew no bounds. The end of 2017 brings with it my father’s semi-retirement from his erstwhile semi-retirement. After a few successful consultancy assignments, he is setting out to write a book chronicling his twenty-year journey of social service in the area of Avoidable Blindness; quite aptly, he has chosen to call the book Eye-opener.

My travels this year were mostly limited to South India—south of the Vindhyas, to be precise,—a place that is my home and that satisfies me more than anywhere else on the planet, with the sole exception of the Himalayas.

The more I read international news and the more I talk to friends living in the US and Europe, the more I’m convinced that as on date, India is—in addition to being so vibrant and diverse—among the safest and sanest places to live in the world; doubtless, we have our own problems but when a population of over a billion is governed by less than a hundred thousand police stations and yet able to maintain peace by and large, then it has definitely something to do with our ‘civilizational maturity,’ as one of my friends put it.

Speaking at the launch of his most recent book, Dr. S R Ramaswamy recalled a wonderful remark by his guru D V Gundappa: “If we were to think that the Supreme [or Destiny or the universe; call it what you wish] bestows upon us those things that we deserve—ex officio—then we would have absolutely nothing. It is because of His immense kindness that He grants us—ex gratia—all the things that we have.” In sum, we don’t get merely what we deserve, but far more than that. And I shall leave you with that thought.

Here’s wishing you and your loved ones a great 2018!

Cheers, Hari